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moonlightspencie · 1 year

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This Ain’t for the Best

Description: Mutual pining. Classic hunting scenarios. Sharing a bed. Wearing the other’s clothes. Confessions. Friends to lovers. Tswizzle title. Need I say more?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Warnings: a little bit of violence, me cramming in every cliché i can because i love the classic fanfiction tropes more than i love breathing

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i was kicking my feet and giggling as i wrote this, especially when i snuck in criminal minds AND taylor swift references. i love writing and never beta-reading or editing what i’ve written. catharsis.

Crashing at Bobby’s had its benefits.

First, we had the comfort of knowing where we were going to sleep at night. It was good to have a bed waiting that wasn’t in a motel room.

Second, there was almost always good food around. I had a knack for home-cooked meals, and it was much easier to be appreciated for it when I actually had a stove to cook on.

Third, there were boundless opportunities for Sam, Dean, and I to kick back and actually relax.

That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, laughing with Dean over old stories we’d told a million times before. He reached in the fridge, pulling out two bottles after we’d come down from the most recent remembrance of an old case. He cracked open the top of his beer, then my drink, sliding it towards me on the counter. Sam and Bobby strolled in st that moment, pausing when they saw us.

“You both woke up like an hour ago,” Sam said, unamused.

“6pm somewhere,” Dean and I said in unison.

We looked at each other with a small laugh, leaving Bobby and Sam rolling their eyes. I took my drink and stood a few steps away.

“We should really get going, though, Dean,” Sam stated.

“Where?” Bobby asked.

“We were planning on doing a run to the grocery story. I don’t want us to eat up all your food without repaying you, and we’re almost out of beer,” Sam said, pointedly looking at his brother.

“This one needs more of those little fruity drinks, too,” Dean teased, nodding at the bottle in my hand.

“Hey, it’s still a malt liquor. Just one that I like,” I said with a laugh.

They said their goodbyes, and I started walking into the front room. Bobby watched the door for a few moment after the boys left, then turned in the archway and locked his gaze on me as I sat on the couch.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I know y’all are all about beer, but I can’t help if I prefer something with a little flavor.”

“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he grumbled, fed up with me already. “What in the world is goin’ on with you and Dean?”

“Huh?”

He furrowed his brow. “Don’t act all shy, now. You two have been flirting nonstop lately.”

“What’s new? We’re both pretty flirtatious in general.”

“Not like this,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know the last time I saw that boy blushing, or you getting all flustered like a teenager.”

“I am not,” I scoffed. “Nothing’s happening, Bobby.”

“I’ve known your for five years, now, and I’ve known those boys since they were kids. You stayed in my house for a year, too. You can’t hide this kind of thing from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book.”

Now, he scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m running for president.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another drink. He came closer, sitting down next to me.

“If you keep denying all this…”

I swallowed, finally resigning. “There’s nothing to do about it, Bobby.”

“Yes, there is. You could tell him.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is, he doesn’t want to be tied down. If we don’t make any moves or promises or whatever, a lot less doesn’t get broken.”

He raised a brow. “I do know how he is. For you, he’d make an exception.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s all just flirting for him. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you blind?”

I looked at him, brows raising. He shook his head, picking at the label on his bottle.

“Sorry. I just— I know what I’m seeing, and I really don’t think it’s just a little friendly flirting for him, either,” he said, looking at me again. “I really think you should speak up while you’ve got the chance to. We don’t often get good things with lives like ours.”

“I know. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“You’re gonna end up screwed if you keep pushing it down, anyway.”

I sighed. He took that signal as a time to change the subject, and for that I was thankful.

“Well, let’s find you the next case, huh?”

The next one was an easy find, and it would’ve been great to break the news to the boys when they got back, if not for a very clumsy Sam walking in the door with a twisted ankle.

“You what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.

Sam sighed, pouting. “I rolled it when I stepped in a pothole.”

Dean shook his head, clearly hiding his amusement as he helped his brother hobble towards a kitchen chair.

“So, no case, then?” I asked.

Bobby perked up. “No, you and Dean can still go. I can take care of Sam.”

“Bobby…” I warned, seeing through him instantly.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean said, cutting off my death stare. “When was the last time we went on a case, just you and me?”

I looked at him.

“Seriously, you guys can go without me,” Sam said. “It might be good for you, Y/N. You seem a little restless.”

“I am not,” I defended.

Bobby chuckled. “Sure, you’re not. But I’m not suggested, I’m telling you. Get out of my house.”

I glanced at him, offended. “I am a delight.”

“You are, but I still want you out. You become much less delightful when you’re antsy.”

Dean laughed. “Come on, it’s only a state over, right? If we start driving now we can make it by sundown.”

I took a moment.

“Alright,” I nodded, heading towards the stairs to gather my things.

The case was a hot mess, to say the least. We couldn’t figure out what we were hunting to begin with, and the only true consistency is that the deaths were messy, leaving each victims with missing livers. It wasn’t until we were at the most recent site of the death that things took a little bit of a turn.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, leaning in my direction.

I shrugged, looking around the house.

“It seems… clean.”

“I mean, I guess. We haven’t found hex bags or EMF readings—”

“No,” I cut him off, gesturing around the living room. “Like physically clean. Nothing is out of place. Look at the mantle.”

I walked over, using my gloved hand to wipe along the surface. I showed him my hand.

“Clean. Not even dust.”

He raised a brow. “And that matters because…”

“Because we’re supposed to be looking for some monster-unknown that never cleans up their messes. Every other scene we’ve been to has been a wreck, so why is the only thing out of place the blood stains on the floor? This is also the first time it’s been in the victims house.”

He paused. “You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes, taking off the glove.

“That’s not important right now,” I shook my head, standing next to him again. “And, for the record, it’s helping our case.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, profiler, why don’t you tell me more about what you’re gathering from the scene.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said with a laugh.

He smirked, placing a hand on my back.

“Let’s get out of here and figure out why things changed.”

We followed dead-end leads all over town, until we hit a lucky streak.

“Check this out,” Dean said, calling me over to the table in our room. “Remember that dive bar our last vic was seen at? Look at this dude’s last social media post.”

I walked over, resting a hand against the table as I leaned in. I looked at the laptop, raising a brow.

“Same place.”

“Same place,” he confirmed. “Wanna check it out? See if anything suspicious is up?”

“You sure you don’t just want to hit the bar?”

He looked up at me with a quirked brow.

“What do you think I am? Drinking on the job. I’d never,” he feigned innocence.

I snorted. “Right. So not you.”

“Leave in ten?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We hit the road soon after, winding up at the bar with our eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. There was plenty for us to see in a seedy town like this, but there was only one interaction that truly piqued our interested. I nodded at the man who was paying a little too much special attention to a woman, drawing Dean’s gaze in that direction. He was equally skeeved out. We kept an eye out for another hour or so before the weird activity took another step into the creep category.

We followed out the man who we caught following the woman, all the way to a neighborhood just outside the city. We made our move as soon as the man walked up to her house.

I followed Dean up to the house, and we started to slink around, waiting for any sign of trouble. I first checked through a window near the front of the house.

“Nothing,” I said, motioning for us to move further.

He took the lead, and we came up on a window that looked into the dining room. He slowly looked inside.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” Dean mumbled, pulling his head back from the window.

“What?”

“Well, do you want the chance to play out your little crime show fantasies?”

I raised a brow. He sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s not— well, it is a monster in there, but not our kind of monster,” he said, tilting his head.

“It’s a human?”

He nodded. “Looks like it. Nothing supernatural that I can see. She’s passed out now, but let’s get a move on before he starts in on her.”

He started walking towards the back of the house, but I stopped him before we got to the door.

“Can— How do we do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s a human. We can’t just chop his head off or exorcise him.”

“We could still stab him.”

“But should we?”

He gave me a very unamused look, waiting for me to make my point.

“Can we attempt to just— Kick his ass and leave him to deal with life in prison? Only go for the shot if it’s necessary.”

He softened. “He killed people, Y/N, does he really deserve mercy here?”

“Do you really think the prison system is mercy?” I asked, earning a slight chuckle. “I just feel weird about killing humans unless our lives are in immediate danger.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. But if anything goes sideways—”

“Then you feel free to shoot him.”

He nodded curtly, then we continued to the door. He opened it carefully, and we stepped inside, checking our surroundings before we headed towards the woman in the dining room. We saw the man first, his back to us as he sat across the table from her.

“Playing house? Really?” Dean quipped, causing the man to whip around.

My gun was pulled before the man had a chance to stand up and react. He looked between us, obvious annoyance on his face.

“You’re not cops,” he stated.

Dean smirked. “No, we are much worse news for scumbags like you.”

“Now,” I started, “you can try and fail to fight your way out of here, or you can sit still while my partner here makes sure you’re sitting nice and pretty for when the cops do show up.”

Dean moved before he had a chance to formulate a response, dragging him out of the chair. The man tried to put up a fight, but it was pretty quickly silenced by means of a fist to the face. Dean left him on the ground after a few minutes and a roll of duct tape.

“Nice,” I commented, then put away my gun.

I moved to the woman at the table who was still passed out. I checked for a pulse, and when I was sure she was still breathing, I started undoing the binding that kept her to the chair. Dean called in an anonymous tip to the police station as I finished up clearing her of everything. She started waking right as I was about to try and move her to the couch.

“Hey, hey,” I said quietly, trying to give a little comfort before her panic set in. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re fine.”

Her eyes opened, and she immediately clung to me when she saw the man on the ground incapacitated.

“What happened?” she asked with a quivering voice.

“Me and my friend Dean saw this guy creeping around your house. We wanted to make sure everything was okay, and when we found out it wasn’t, we found a way in. The cops are on the way now.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

I glanced back at Dean with the ghost of a smile on my face. He raised his brows at me.

“Why don’t we get you to the couch?”

“You’re not staying?” she asked, still in shock.

“No, we gotta leave,” I said, helping her to the couch. “We’ll stick around for a few minutes outside till the cops get here, though.”

“Okay,” she nodded along absentmindedly as she laid on the couch.

I walked back to Dean, motioning for us to go outside. He looked back down at the man for a moment who was still passed out, then followed behind me. We got back to the Impala and waited.

“Weird to be thanked,” I said, watching the house.

He hummed. “Doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe we were accidentally hunting a serial killer.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more crossover when we hunt.”

I hummed in agreement. “I also wonder why things changed so much. From the murders messy and public to being more confined in the homes.”

“Who knows,” he said, shaking his head. “Monsters make a hell of a lot more sense than people do.”

“You got that right.”

Soon enough we saw flashing lights coming down the street. We watched some officers step out of the first car, and a few more get out of an SUV.

“Is that FBI?” Dean asked, looking intently.

“I mean, we just found them a serial killer. They’ve probably been on high alert,” I said.

He nodded, and we watched for another moment as they prepared to go inside.

“Man, those vests are cool as hell in real life, too,” I commented.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he wrapped up the conversation with a laugh.

He pulled off the sidewalk at that, and started driving in the opposite direction of the cops. We decided to stay the night at the motel, neither of us awake enough to get back to Sam and Bobby. He pulled into the parking lot, and we trudged inside.

“At least we aren’t covered in monster guts this time,” I said as I fell onto the mattress.

“Right?” He chuckled. “Cool if I take the first shower?”

“Of course. I’ll be here.”

He shut the door of the bathroom, and I let out a sigh. All of the teamwork bull crap we’d been doing certainly didn’t help my case, but I could at least be thankful he didn’t want to go the bars and find a hookup. I threw my arms over my eyes and sighed.

“Hey,” I heard Dean’s voice call out, his hand on my knee.

I uncovered my eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

He smiled. “Go take a shower.”

“You sayin’ I need one?” I asked with a quirked brow.

“Yeah. You’re a mess,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t know how I sat in a car with you all day, to be honest.”

I scoffed, getting up. He moved enough for me to get by, but didn’t let me get far before he started talking again.

“Movie tonight?” he asked.

I rustled through my bag, pulling out my pajama shorts.

“Sure.”

“Any requests?”

“Uh,” I started, still looking for a clean top. “Maybe a comedy. We could use something funny.”

“Good point.” He stared for a moment as I kept digging. “You missing something?”

“I can’t find my t-shirt. I thought I packed three in here.”

“Do you want one of mine?”

I paused, considering the offer. One one hand, I wouldn’t have to wear a cami to bed and risk accidentally flashing him in my sleep. One the other, I’d be wearing his shirt and that would be a sure way to get me in my own head. The risks of the first definitely outweighed my lack of self control.

“That would be awesome.”

He walked to his own bag, pulling out a shirt that matched the one he wore and handing it to me.

“I still think wearing our outside clothes to bed worked just fine.”

“Did you ever feel rested doing that?” I asked.

He sighed dramatically. I laughed.

“Exactly my point,” I said. “Most of your well-being has to do with mindset, Dean.”

He grumbled to himself as he settled into bed, and I took that as my chance to get in the bathroom. My shower was quick, especially since Dean used up most of the hot water. I knew I should’ve gone first, but it forced me not to stay in forever. I pulled on his shirt and my shorts, trying not to let myself smile when I saw myself in the mirror wearing his clothes. I walked back into the room before I allowed myself to think too hard.

He looked at me as I walked out, a smile creeping on his face. I fought back my own to raise a brow as I lingered at the foot of my bed.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Funny seeing you in my shirt.”

“Looks better on me than it ever did on you,” I sassed with a smirk, crawling into bed.

“Can’t argue with that,” he noted, still watching me. He cleared his throat a moment later, looking at the TV screen. “Uh, I found something, I think. They had Step Brothers on demand.”

“Oh, perfect,” I said as he clicked play.

We settled into a comfortable silence for a while, and I cuddled into the duvet. After we were halfway through the movie, I gathered the blankets around me even more.

“Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” I asked, looking over to see Dean still sitting above the covers.

“It’s a little cold,” he shrugged, then looked at me. “I can check the heater.”

I nodded as he got up and crossed the room. He held a hand out, a puzzled look on his face after a moment. He smacked it with his hand, and still felt nothing.

“Hm. Hang on,” he said, moving to the phone. “Hi, I think the heater in here’s broken.”

A pause.

“Ah, great. Okay, thanks.”

He hung up the phone, looking to me apologetically.

“They said the heating’s down in the whole place.”

I sighed. “That sucks.”

He sat back in his bed, looking at me for a moment before he spoke again.

“I know it’s been a while since we had to, but do you wanna come sleep in my bed tonight? I run hot, it might keep you warm.”

“I know. I had to sleep next to you in the summer, and it was like roasting in an oven,” I chuckled.

“See? It’ll work perfect when you’re cold,” he said, standing again.

He pulled the covers back, getting underneath and patting the mattress next to him. I cursed myself for finding this case in the first place.

“Just don’t complain if I kick you in my sleep,” I said, getting out of my bed.

He chuckled. “I’m not worried about it.”

I got into his bed, and he threw the covers over me. He then reached over top of me to grab the remote, pressing play and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, leaning into his side.

This position put me in a delicate spot, and I found that to be true more and more with every passing minute. Every time he laughed, I felt it reverberate in his chest. Every time he talked to me, I’d look up to see his face inches from mine. Every time he moved, he held me a little tighter.

In short, Bobby was all too correct about me being screwed.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice soft. “You okay?”

“Mm?”

I looked at him, once again trying not to think about the proximity.

“You always laugh at this scene. You didn’t make a sound this time.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, looking towards the screen. “Sorry, I must be exhausted.”

“Is that all? Seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

“Seriously,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I think I just need some sleep,” I replied, glancing at him again with half a smile.

He quirked a brow, clearly not believing me, but willing to drop the subject.

“Okay. You know you can always talk to me?”

“I know.”

He smiled softly, then looked back at the TV as he shut it off. He settled into bed, still holding onto me. I snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow. I felt him breathe deep before he shut off the light.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

I woke up the next morning before he did, and decided there was little harm in remaining there. I shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy the fact that I was still snuggled against him. It gave me a moment to pretend he was mine, at least for the morning. I listened to his breathing, and wondered if he ever dreamt about me in the same way I did about him. As if on cue, his arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. His thumb brushed against my shoulder where his hand had snuck under the sleeve of the t-shirt, though I couldn’t tell if he was really awake until I felt a soft kiss against the top of my head.

At that moment, I decided it was probably best to continue pretending I was still asleep.

He stayed that way for a little while, his hand still against my shoulder, making little patterns with his thumb. It took everything in me not to move when I felt him brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, and even more when he let his hand linger against my cheek for when felt like a few seconds too long to be purely friendly.

I wondered if he was always like this when I wasn’t awake. Extra attentive, and sure not to wake me. Maybe that’s why I somehow remained asleep every time I fell asleep in the car that normally jostled me around like a rag doll with his driving. I wondered even more if Bobby was right about something else he’d said days ago: the unrequited feelings might not be so unrequited after all.

I nestled my head against his chest, trying to give him a warning that I was about to open my eyes, and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a breath, blinking slowly as I let the light seep in for the second time that morning.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly, his voice still soft and raspy from tiredness.

I smiled. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” he asked, drawing my attention to him.

I nodded, leaning back a little to see him better.

“Very, and I saw a café on the way into town that looked good,” I said.

He smiled softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then, he yawned, finally sitting up. He turned and looked at me as I stayed laying.

“How’d you sleep? Warm enough?”

“Thanks to you, yeah,” I replied, stretching. “I’m scared to get out of bed, now, though.”

He patted my leg over the covers, “If you want food, that should be motivation enough.”

“Good point.”

I reluctantly climbed out of bed as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was cold, but not unbearable. I decided to throw on some clothes in the room since he always took a while in the bathroom. By the time he was finished, all I needed to do was wash my face and brush my teeth, then we were off.

Breakfast was short and sweet, and we made it back to Bobby’s in record time. We strolled in the door, seeing Sam gimping around the kitchen as soon as we walked in.

“Still letting that ankle beat your ass?” I asked immediately.

He laughed. “Trust me, if I had any control over it, this wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Maybe you just wanted out of the hunt,” I said in reply.

“Oh yeah, I loved hanging out and making Bobby bring me ice packs all day. Dream vacation, actually.”

Dean shook his head with a smirk. “You didn’t miss out on much anyway.”

“How’d it go?” Sam asked as he took a seat.

I looked to Dean who was already glancing in my direction. I shrugged.

“We stopped a serial killer, actually,” I noted.

Sam gaped. “And I ‘didn’t miss much’?”

“Just knocked him out and called the cops. Not much fun, anyways,” Dean shrugged. “Oh, we did find maybe the best pancakes I’ve ever had, though.”

I hummed in agreement enthusiastically, nodding.

“They were freaking incredible,” I said, then looked back at Sam. “And they had like, real, fresh maple syrup.”

“Unlimited stacks when you bought the platter, too,” Dean chimed in with a gleeful smile.

“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sam scoffed out with a laugh. “What, did you fall asleep together after reading the newspaper, too?”

“After watching a movie, actually,” Dean corrected, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Then, he looked at me. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam looked between us, a raised brow and an amused look on his face.

“You two actually fell asleep together?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

He smiled mischievously, then looked at Dean.

“Making moves on her, now?”

Dean swallowed, glaring at his brother with wide eyes. I furrowed my brow, about to see if I could prod Sam for information, but Bobby walked in before I had the chance.

“Hey, you two. How was the hunt?”

Dean let out a breath. “Not real eventful. I could use some sleep.”

He started walking out of the room, all of us watching as he left. Bobby turned to me first, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t look at me,” I said with my hands up in defense. “I think Sammy pissed him off.”

“Real smooth, Sam,” Bobby commented.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. Bobby merely sighed, going to take a seat across from Sam. I looked at them both, hands on my hips.

“Why do I get the feeling you two know something I don’t?”

“Did Dean not talk to you?” Sam asked, looking at me.

“We talk plenty.”

“That’s not what I mean. He said he was gonna talk to you when the next case was over,” he stopped, then looked at Bobby. “Case came and went, and still nothing.”

Bobby shrugged. “Out of our hands, Sam. Told you not to meddle.”

I sighed in annoyance. “You two are children, you know that?”

“Hey,” Bobby said, offended.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said finally, turning for the door.

The second I was halfway out, they started talking again, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much about what they said. Clearing my mind sounded like the best option, and I was determined to do it.

I started walking around the yard, music blaring from my phone to keep me preoccupied as I watched the sky light up with a million different colors. I found an old car with a relatively clean exterior and decided to climb onto the hood. I leaned back, watching the sky as it turned darker, the stars slowly peaking out.

“Room for one more?” Dean’s voice asked from behind me.

“Come on up,” I said, scooting over a bit.

He came and sat next to me, looking up at the sky. He let out a slow breath, then looked at me.

“Taylor Swift?”

“You know it,” I replied.

He smiled, turning his head back.

“Stars are coming out,” he commented.

“They are. You should’ve seen sunset, it was gorgeous.”

He scooted closer, leaning his head against mine silently. After a moment, I let myself lean against his shoulder a little more.

“You okay, Dean?” I asked after a beat.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno. You just seemed a little off when we got back today.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It’s— It’s nothing.”

“You sound like me, now.”

He chuckled. “Guess we’ve got the same bad habit, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

We stayed there until it got dark enough to really see the stars come out, not moving even when the chill of the night started creeping in. I readjusted my head against his shoulder, preparing myself to speak again.

“Did you really follow me out here just to look at stars?”

I felt him still. Then, after a moment, I sat up a little straighter and looked at him. He glanced back at me, clearly feeling caught out.

“Thought you could use some company.”

I raised a brow, and he smirked, looking away.

“Alright, you got me,” he said, “What gave it away?”

“First off, I’ve known you for years,” I started, nudging him in the arm. “Second, Sam and Bobby were all uppity about the fact that you apparently told Sam you had something to talk to me about.”

“I swear, he can’t keep a secret to save his life when it comes to stuff like this,” he said, rubbing at his face.

“Well, try me,” I said, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He was extra cute all flustered. “I’m a good listener.”

He let out a breath, then looked at me, scanning my face for a moment.

“I know I’ve got a certain type of reputation—”

“You?! No way,” I exclaimed with a smile, my eyes wide.

He laughed. “Exactly my point.”

“You know I don’t care about that, though. Reputations are a one-sided story.”

He hummed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He sighed, looking back at the sky for a moment.

“I just,” he started, giving a shrug, “I feel like it— Like it makes people feel like I never want anything but a hookup, you know?”

“It makes people feel that way?”

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” he asked, looking at me again with a faint smile. “You. I mean you.”

“I gathered that much.”

He laughed softly, as did I.

“How’d you know?”

“I had suspicions fueled by Bobby. Then you kissed me and started being all affectionate when you thought I was asleep this morning.”

His eyes widened. “You were pretending to be asleep? That’s so not fair!”

“Hey, I woke up snuggled into my own personal space heater, I didn’t exactly want to be up and at ‘em.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging me into his side with an arm around my shoulders once more.

“How long has it been for you?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t even know. I guess I started realizing it a year or so ago.”

“That’s embarrassing for me, then. I knew the second I met you,” he said with a laugh.

“Dean,” I said with surprise. “It’s been half a decade! No wonder Bobby got on my ass about it before we left.”

“Well, hey, Sammy’s been on mine for a couple years. You got off easy up till now.”

I laughed. “I guess so. To be fair, we were flying under the radar for quite a while, though. The incessant flirting the past few weeks is what got us in trouble.”

“Why did you start being extra flirty, anyway?” he asked, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I don’t know. I guess I was, like, subconsciously seeing a window. You haven’t been doing your normal bar hookups the past few months, so I thought maybe there was a reason for it,” I paused. “Though, finding out you’ve been crushing on me for five years kind of makes me question that.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Easier to keep my mind off you that way. That sounds terrible. I just— I never thought in a million years you’d think anything of me.”

“Well, when did you realize I might?”

He sighed. “You remember a couple weeks back when we were taking down that vamp nest? You easily could’ve died, and we hugged afterwards, but when I pulled back I… I saw that look in your eyes that seemed an awful lot like how I look at you when you’re not paying attention. I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t doubt in that moment that you would’ve let me if I had.”

I paused. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long, and we practically do everything together. I didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that I was reading those signs all wrong.”

“You weren’t.”

He fell quiet for a moment. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me as I did. He quickly wet his lips, drawing my gaze downward before my eyes flicked back up to his. His lips parted momentarily. Then…

“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” he said quickly.

I nodded curtly, pulling away to let him get off the hood first. He gave me a hand, helping me down next. We walked back to the house quietly, saying soft goodnights before we went to separate rooms.

I was all settled in for the night, cozy in my bed with a book in hand. Then, I heard a knock on the door. I grumbled as I got up, annoyed that I had to leave the comfort of a mattress that wasn’t a sure cesspool of germs I didn’t want to think about. I flung the door open.

“Someone better be dying or I’m gonna kick some ass for—”

Dean’s lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me from my rant. I melted after a few seconds of mental delay, my hands gripping onto the material of his shirt as his cradled my face. I felt him smile into the kiss, drawing my closer with arms that snuck around my waist, holding me tight. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss once he was sure that the signs were all giving him a positive response.

We finally broke apart a few minutes later, breathing heavy with pounding hearts.

“I figured I should stop letting opportunities pass me up,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good thinking.”

His eyes scanned over me, his chest still heaving.

“You wouldn’t happen to need another space heater for the night, would you?”

“I run cold, what can I say?” I replied with a smirk, and a spark in my eye.

He smiled, walking me into the room with his lips on mine, kicking the door shut behind him.

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

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

#i haven’t written a spn fic in years this felt good #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #delicate #reputation #taylor swift #gender neutral reader

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janeyseymour · 28 days

Text

Just Sex

Summary: Melissa is hooking up with the chief at the firehouse, so you decide that you can have your own fun.

WC: ~2.1k

After the failed relationship and proposal with Gary, Melissa has been going out to bars and staying out late at night. She finds herself in bed with quite a few men and women, and while she’s not thrilled that she’s back to this lifestyle, she’s impressed that she still has what it takes. Getting older did not make it any easier to attract people.

But then one night she sees the fire chief out at the bar, one thing leads to the other, and they’re in a friends with benefits sort of situationship.

Of course, all of this comes out when you’re renewing your CPR training certificate with the Abbott clan, and Barbara has made it quite clear that she’s upset Melissa didn’t tell her of this relationship before.

You had been busy trying to pass your test, but now it’s your partner’s turn to go, and you tune back into the world around you.

“But if I were gonna label it, I would say it’s just sex,” you hear Melissa tell her work wife in a low voice.

You don’t really know what she’s talking about, but you shrug it off. That is, until Janine comes back into the room and asks for the gossip. Barbara of course goes off, claiming that her friend of over fifteen years trusts her no more than a common street stranger. It becomes apparent to you that whatever hookup situation they’re talking about has been going on for a bit of time now. You feel a nasty pit settle in your stomach at that.

That pit only grows when you go out with the crew after the CPR course to celebrate the fact that you all passed. Of course, conversation leads back to Melissa and Jacob both having sexual relations with people from the firehouse.

“Well, I think I blew that one,” Jacob groans as he finishes off his aperol spritz. “But let’s talk about you, Mel Mel.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” the redhead waves him off. “It’s just casual sex.”

“Casual sex that’s been going on for how long?” Barbara asks with a raised brow.

Melissa purses her lips as she thinks. “Couple weeks now?”

“A month,” Jacob cuts in. “C’mon, Melissa. When are you just going to admit that you like him?”

“I do not,” she states very clearly. “I just need something to take the edge off for me, and… he does that.”

“How kinky is it?” Ava asks, a smirk on her face.

Jacob opens his mouth, and Melissa very quickly shoves her hand over his mouth. “You say a word, and you’re out on the curb faster than you were out with Zach.”

The man’s eyes widen, and he nods quickly. She pulls her hand away from his mouth, and he breathes a deep sigh in relief.

“I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” the second grade teacher says as she finishes off her beer.

Barb turns to look at her work wife with a curious face. She knows of the little crush that her best friend has on you. Melissa just nods at the kindergarten teacher’s silent question.

But you don’t take it that way, because you have no idea that Melissa has had her eye on you since before she broke it off with Gary. You see it that you have no chance with your favorite coworker at all.

Feeling as though you could burst into tears at any given moment, you quietly excuse yourself from the rest of the outing and head for your apartment.

“What was that?” Melissa furrows a brow and purses her lips as she gazes in the direction that you left.

“I’m sure it was just a long day for her is all,” Janine tries to come up with some sort of logistical reason as to why you would leave early. “I did have a meeting with her before school even started today, so she’s been up for quite some time.”

Everybody seems to accept that reasoning, and they continue on with their night.

The next day, you march yourself into Ava’s office bright and early.

“Girl, what are you doin? I’m tryna get this knot out of my back,” your principal groans as she shuts off her personal back massager.

“I need your help,” you tell her, not even bothering to acknowledge that she isn’t doing her job at all.

“With?” She leans forward just slightly in her chair.

You smile at her. “I know you know a bunch of people… set me up with someone?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs. “What’s gotten into you? Every other time I’ve asked if you want someone, you decline!”

“Just… thinking I should get myself out there,” you shrug. “You know? If Melissa can do it, so can I.”

Ava’s jaw drops. “So this is about Melissa.”

“What?”

“I knew you had the hots for her!” the principal grins.

“What? Not! I- I just figured, if everyone else can have at it, so can I?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs in your face. “This ain’t you at all, but I am in full support of it. Give me til the end of the day, and I’ll have someone for you.”

You end up going out with a woman that night that Ava set you with, and you do end up actually liking her… and she’s pretty damn good in bed.

The next morning, you’re practically glowing while you drink your morning coffee in the break room. Julie, the woman that you ended up in bed with last night, is texting you about maybe meeting up again later this week.

And if you weren’t still in love with the redhead that comes in a few seconds later, you would say yes. Instead, you send her a text that says, Maybe. Kinda busy the next couple weeks.

She texts you back a picture… a rather scandalous picture. And you blush when you see it.

“What’s got you all giddy today?” the redhead asks as she leans over. She sees the picture before you can close out of it, and her eyebrows creep up her head.

“Who’s that?”

You shrug. “Just someone Ava set me up with.”

“Ava?” Melissa asks in disbelief. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Not long,” you tell her. “It’s just sex, really.”

The redhead folds her arms over her chest. “I didn’t think you were like that.”

“I’m not, but I figured I might as well give it a shot,” you say. “Now, I have to head to my room to finish up some of my grading, but I’ll see you later.”

You don’t have any intention to see her later. And you don’t. You pull back from her and her group- although most of them still find their ways to you. It’s mostly just the redheaded second grade teacher that you avoid. And it happens that way for a few more days.

You’re in the break room heating up your lunch when Ava comes in. “Girl! Are you gonna text Julie back or not?”

Melissa makes her way in, and you sigh. “It’s just sex. I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” you unintentionally repeat what the second grade teacher had said out at the bar. The microwave indicates that your food is finished, and you pull it out before heading back down to your classroom for lunch.

You miss the scowl on Melissa’s face, but Ava sure as hell doesn’t.

“Girl, you jealous or something?” the principal leans in with a smirk.

“What would I be jealous of?”

“That someone else is hitting that hot piece of ass,” Ava says like it’s obvious. The second grade teacher rolls her eyes, but Ava continues. “I see the way you look at her. Practically undressing her with your eyes every time she walks into the room.”

Melissa crosses her arms again. “I can’t believe you set her up with someone if you knew I like her.”

“I was hoping it would give you a swift kick in the ass that she was gonna start hoeing it up,” Ava shrugs. “Now admit that you’re jealous before everyone else comes in here.”

“Okay, I’m jealous,” the redhead relents. “But it don’t matter anyway. She isn’t lookin’ for anyone- she just said that.”

“She said, and I quote, ‘I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along. And girl, you’re that person for her!”

Everyone else starts filing in, and Ava makes it so that she looks impossibly bored, although she is actually quite the opposite. “Okay, I’m leaving this snooze fest.” She heads out, but not before giving Melissa a subtle wink and tap on the wrist. “Get it, girl.”

That day, Melissa sits thoughtfully during her lunch period about what Ava said… maybe she’s right? But she can’t be sure, so after dismissal duty, the fiery second grade teacher heads down to the front office and bursts into the principal’s office.

“Schemmenti,” Ava grins. “You do it yet?”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ until I’m positive Y/N has a thing for me too,” Melissa sits down across from the woman. “So tell me what you know.”

Ava spends a long time telling the redhead about the various times she’s caught you checking Melissa and only Melissa out, how you always seem to linger around her during events, how the two of you are almost always partners for things now and how you being around always makes her soft and you absolutely bask in her warmth. She even confesses that you went down to her office to ask her to set you up because of Melissa.

“You convinced yet?” the principal asks after ten minutes.

Melissa bites her lip. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’d make a move quick though. She said something about potentially seeing Julie today.”

“Isn’t that going to piss off your friend that Y/N might leave her for me?”

“She ain’t my friend,” Ava says as she files her nails. “I made a dating profile for Y/N and picked the first mildly attractive woman I saw.”

“You’re unbelievable sometimes,” the redhead pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Maybe, but ain’t you gonna go get your girl?”

Melissa stands from her chair and thanks the principal before rushing out and down your hallway. She hopes to catch you before you head out for the night. And of course, because you’re a dedicated teacher, you’re still there prepping for tomorrow. She knocks on your doorframe and leans against it.

“Just a sec!” you reply cheerily, not turning around yet. You’re hands deep in soil for the gardening project that your students will be participating in tomorrow.

“I don’t got a second,” Melissa says. You whip around at her voice.

“Hey,” you sigh, all joy in your voice gone.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” the redhead tells you.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I want you to go out with me instead,” she tells you seriously.

“You’re dating the fire chief,” you deadpan.

“I ain’t dating nobody because the only person I want to date is you,” the redhead admits.

That gets you to drop the dirt that is currently in your hands. “What?”

“I told everyone I was just having casual sex and wasn’t looking for a relationship unless the right person came around because… because the only person I would want to be in a relationship is you, and I didn’t think I had a chance.”

“Melissa, are you an idiot?” You ask her. “I’ve shamelessly flirted with you since you broke it off with Gary and practically thrown myself at you in hopes that you would pick me instead of some random hookup.”

She crosses the room, and she’s kissing you before you even know what’s happening. You instinctively kiss her back, and… wow. When you pull away, you quickly wipe the dirt off of your hands before pulling her in close again.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” she pleads again.

“Don’t go out with the fire chief anymore,” you mumble against her lips.

She nods and mutters, “I already called it off. You cancel on Julie, and meet me at my place?”

You end up at Melissa’s house within the hour, and she wines and dines you. And then you end up in her bed seeing stars. Your legs tremble for what feels like forever before she makes her way back up to you.

“And just so you know,” she husks into your ear. “There ain’t nothin’ casual about this. This ain’t just sex.”

Tags: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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symp4nat · 4 months

Text

Gentleman

clarisse la rue x fem!reader

part 2 to unexpected love!

authors note, mainly for me: its 3 am literally i have church in 5 hours

summary - you're feeling insecure from your past relationships and you tell clarisse that she can treat you however she'd like which makes her slightly upset

warnings: toxic past, ghosting

1.5k words

As you both pulled away from the kiss, you teased, "I still hate you."

A smirk crept out of Clarisse as she caught her breath. "I hate you too," she jokingly responded.

You tried not to smile. "So. Are we friends? Lovers? Friends with benefits?"

"Does it have to be one of those?" She was breathing heavily and still a little dazed. It had been a long time since she had kissed anyone and you had caught her off guard. "Do we have to have a label?" She asked softly, and her voice still sounded very foreign to her.

Your eyes softened. "I would prefer," you then trailed off. She thought a few things in her head. “I think we can be… friends,” she paused for a moment, but your lips and the way you looked at her was not something she could ignore. “With some… benefits."

Your eyes fell to the ground. "Oh."

She was quite surprised to see your reaction. “Is… that not what you wanted?”

You faked a smile and said, "Yeah.. no, it's- it's fine."

"No, it’s not." She looked at you with concern. She had assumed you would be happy to hear that. "Would you have preferred something… more?"

You gulped and decided to say, "No, no, this is- this is fine."

"Are you sure?" She still looked worried. What was happening with her and these emotions she wasn’t used to feeling? She was not a soft person, but her voice was gentle and her expressions were sincere. "You can tell me if you had wanted something else."

You shook your head. "No, no, whatever you prefer."

"Then I prefer this." Her voice was softer than normal, and she leaned in close to brush your lips again.

You caressed her cheek as your fingertips brushed her face. You leaned in and kissed her. It was a delicate kiss.

Her hands curled around your neck, pulling you a little closer. Her kisses were more gentle now, her lips soft and sweet.

You pulled back and your eyes met the ground. "Is something wrong?" she asked you, a little worried. Could she have done something wrong? No, she did not think so.

"I um… so… friends with benefits?"

She smiled softly, brushing your cheek. "Friends and benefits, yes." She stepped back, but her hands stayed around the back of your neck. She liked how warm you felt. "Do you have… a problem with that?"

You shook your head. "No, no! What- whatever makes you happy." You nervously played with your fingers which Clarisse quickly picked up on.

Your response surprised her. She would have assumed you would have been more… happy, because she knew she was. "Well I prefer this," she paused because she wanted to say more, to compliment you, but she wasn't sure if you would respond well. "You feel nice," she said as she held your hands.

"Thank you.." You shuffled your feet. "I wanted to be your girlfriend," you said gently.

That caught her off guard. She had been about to say something, but that was not the response she had expected at all. She was speechless, and her cheeks went red when she realized what you had said.

She took a deep breath as she thought of what to say, and she spoke softly. "I- I'll be your girlfriend."

"No- no, it's okay, you wanted friends with benefits, we can do that," you quickly exclaimed.

She shook her head, she knew that she wanted something more than friends with benefits. She liked you more than just some fling, she wanted you in her life. And she was sure that she was ready for that commitment.

"I want to be your girlfriend," you hesitantly looked at her.

You childishly asked, "Pinky promise?" You stuck out your pinky.

She laughed. Your request was so simple, so immature, but it made her laugh and it was refreshing in this moment. She reached out to lace your fingers and put her pinky against yours.

"I pinky promise."

Her hand closed around yours, her pinkie finger wrapped around yours. She pulled you close and kissed your cheek. "I like you," she whispered. "I really do."

Both of your bodies were pushed up against each other. "I like you too…"

She pecked your lips and then your cheek. You admired her silently. "You're gorgeous," you said.

A blush came to her face and she looked down. The fact that you found her attractive truly boosted her ego.

It made her feel a little confident and it made her want to smile in spite of herself. She looked back up at you and her blush only grew.

You fake-gasped, "I made the big, bad Clarisse blush!"

"Shut up," she scoffed playfully, though the flush of her cheeks spoke differently. "Shut up, idiot," she said in a whisper. She had never felt this… loved… before, but she did have to admit that she liked it.

You rolled your eyes and tried to hold back a smile. "So um… about our relationship… you don't always have to talk to me, if you wanna date someone else, I get it… you don't always have to hang out with me and um- you only have to hug me maybe every few weeks," you said.

"You get it?" She looked genuinely concerned. "No, I don't want to date anyone else. You're everything for me right now.” Her voice got low as she spoke and she looked like she was trying hard to keep her emotions in check. "Why would I want anyone else when I have you?”

You had an uneasy look on your face and Clarisse continued, "I don't want anyone else, I want you. That's not going to change for the rest of the time that I live." Her eyes were still very intense as she spoke and her voice was low.

She noticed your eyes wandering. "Hey, look at me. I want to talk to you," she said softly, gently brushing your cheek with her thumb. "I want to talk to you every… single… day."

"There won't be any ignoring either. I don't want to ignore you, I want to kiss you. I want to keep talking to you every day. I want to do everything with you. You're mine and I don't think you understand that at all."

You looked slightly up at Clarisse with innocent doe eyes. "No, but," you said until she cut you off.

“No," she whispered, "I will NOT ignore you." She caressed your face. "Why are you doing this to yourself, baby?"

"My last girlfriend was… toxic? She used to barely talk to me, so I get it if you do the same…"

It was at that moment she had realized what she had to do.

She was going to have to be softer with you. The way you described how people treated you in the past made her feel very sad for you and she wanted to give you what they had not given you in the past.

"Your last girlfriend was stupid if she didn't talk to you, and I would never be stupid. I will talk to you every single day," she said, her voice more tender.

"But you don't have to, Clari-"

"But that's what I want to do," she repeated softly, taking your hand and gently pulling you in closer to her. "I will talk to you every single day, and I will give you hugs and kisses, and I will… I will…" She sighed softly and her eyes narrowed.

You lunged at her and hugged her tightly. You then pulled back and apologized, saying, "Sorry, 'should'a asked first…"

She raised her eyebrow. "You're apologizing?" Her voice was still low and she leaned close to you again. You nodded. "How cute, are you going to ask me every time before you ever touch me," she teased

"If- if that's what you want," you stuttered.

She laughed and shook her head. "It isn't what I want. I want you to be more forward with me. Don't be afraid to put your hand on my waist or hug me without asking. You don't have to be so… submissive… you know."

You nodded hesitantly, not being used to this kind of healthy relationship. "May I have a kiss, please?"

“Of course.” She spoke softly and let one of her arms wrap around your neck, drawing you closer to her with a light pull. Her lips met yours and they kissed passionately and deeply.

You kissed her back gently, but still with passion.

Her lips were soft and gentle on yours, and she was so happy to feel your lips against hers. Her hand was still on the back of your neck, and it started rubbing the skin gently. She then pulled back. "Did I distract you from hurting Marissa," you questioned.

"You thought I was gonna hurt Marissa," she asked.

"Well, I mean, you did say you were going to…"

"I- I was joking, I was kidding,"

"Okay!" You pecked her cheek. "And um, by the way?" The horn blew. "Blue team won! Sorry, baby, you lost!"

Clarisse rolled her eyes and said, "C'mon, mamas, let's go celebrate."

#clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue x y/n #percy jackson show #percy jackson tv #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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timeflow · 10 months

Text

good evening reddit users, welcome to the website. not seen one of these that tells you how to make this website bearable so here goes

starting off with dashboard settings you want to turn off endless scrolling (it slows down the website after a while of scrolling), turn off shorten long posts because one of the main things about this website is the total lack of a character limit (as an alternative to this setting, you can press j to skip to the next post on the dashboard if the current one is kind of long). turning on timestamps is convenient because it allows you to check when a post was made (don't get me wrong: this website absolutely LOVES reblogging old posts, but there are times when it's worth checking if a post has very old news in it)

turn off best stuff first right away. one of the main reasons cited for joining tumblr is because "there is no algorithm". this is not entirely true, we have one but we routinely turn off anything algorithmic that staff adds. turning off best stuff first means your dashboard will be reverse chronological no matter what, and turning off based on your likes and stuff in your orbit will get rid of the rest of the algorithmically-recommended content that appears on your dashboard

following tags is nice because you will occasionally see posts with tags you follow sprinkled into your dashboard. this is considered good because it's almost always recent, I personally recommend turning on include followed tag posts and just following a bunch of random tags that you think could be interesting (characters, media, topics, whatever)

this one's a more personal thing but I would absolutely turn off any community labels because tumblr staff has recently been just putting a bunch of random posts under this despite being entirely sfw. if you ACTUALLY want to filter content, then go to filtered tags:

unlike the community labels which are put arbitrarily by staff, tags are put on by the actual users and so you can MUCH more reliably filter out content you don't want to see by putting filtered tags. this also works for any kind of content unlike the community labels, meaning you can just filter out stuff that you don't want to see (a particular character, a particular piece of media, a certain topic, anything you want really)

turn on custom theme immediately. the standard view of tumblr.com/url will give people who are not logged in a forced login wall, meanwhile url.tumblr.com will not. by doing this you also get access to your post archive at url.tumblr.com/archive, which lets you look through your posts more easily (the search function is awful). the main benefit of this, however, is that you get to have a custom look to your blog: going to edit theme brings up a menu that allows you to customize your css, add pages to your tumblr blog, etc. all very useful stuff

it's also worth taking the time to consider whether or not you leave your liked posts and list of blogs you follow public (most people have likes turned off, following is also commonly turned off but I personally don't care about others seeing who I follow)

turn off the let people blaze your posts. blaze basically allows you to pay money to show a post to a random group of people by paying money, suffices to say that allowing others to blaze your posts without your consent will inevitably lead to one of your personal posts getting blazed by some prick and now hundreds of people have seen it

asks are one of the main ways of interacting with blogs so absolutely turn them on. whether you allow anons is your choice, anonymity allows people to say nice things without feeling embarrassed about how everyone knows who said that, but it also allows people to send hateful stuff with no consequence.

submissions are like whatever. I personally leave them on but in my 5 years of having this blog I've been submitted to twice.

to close off this post I'll leave my personal thoughts on reblog etiquette:

reblogging is great. reblog the fuck out of anything. does the post amuse you slightly? reblog it. go wild

that being said please don't put anything in your reblogs unless it's like a really important comment. your comment will be immortalized forever if someone reblogs the post from you and on popular posts I have to constantly go back a couple years to get rid of an annoying comment like "LOL THIS IS SO FUNNY" because that person didn't realize that their addition was wholly unnecessary

if you DO want to add something to say your thoughts on the post in a quiet voice that doesn't get permanently added onto the original, consider talking in the tags of your reblog. this is considered nicer since when the post is reblogged from you your tags are not going to stick around. there is also this process known as "peer review" in which if your tags are sufficiently funny one of your followers (or sometimes a random person browsing the notes of the post) will screenshot/copy and paste your tags into a reblog, which is a much more natural way of having your comment added into the post

tags are also nice to use or organizational purposes. clicking on a post with a certain tag on your blog will show you every post with that tag on your blog allowing you to find posts later, alternatively you can go to url.tumblr.com/archive/tagged/[insert tag here] to a similar effect.

that's all I have to say on this subject. have fun on our glorious website

edit: oh yeah also unfollow staff. it will make you look normal 👍

#reddit migration #reddit #196 #r/196 #r196 #curatedtumblr #r/curatedtumblr #think those are all the relevant ones. hi redditors btw #r/tumblr

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twice-inamillion · 2 months

Text

The Company

Newest Recruit

Story Building and Fluff

Chapter 8

3,160 Words

(You and Mina’s family have a talk about her enjoying the company. Jessica goes to America to buy her new home. A new set of trainees arrive to the company from a different company.)

After talking to Mina and the choreographer, you ask them for an appointment to talk to her parents. Mina agrees and calls her mom to see when the best time to talk to them both.

You return to your hotel and talk to your assistants about recruiting her into the company. As you’re going over some possible offers, you can make you receive a phone call from the choreographer telling you that Mina and her family can meet tomorrow evening. I am glad about the rapid response and that you prepared everything for your meeting.

It’s the following day, and you’re standing in front of her house and ringing the doorbell. It doesn’t take too long for the door to open, and you see an older female, assuming to be the mother. “Good evening; you must be here because of Mina, correct?”

“Yes. Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

“Come, take a seat. I’ll call Mina and her father over.”

“Thank you,” walking to the living room and sitting on the couch.”

You see Mina walking down the stairs to the living room, “Good evening,” she shyly waved her hand. She sits on the couch across from you and waits for both her parents to arrive.

From the kitchen, Mina’s parents and the choreographer walk to the living room with drinks and snacks.

“Sorry for the wait; we wanted to bring snacks for us to enjoy.”

Once everyone is seated, you introduce yourself as the CEO of Olympus Entertainment, surprising everyone. Knowing some information about the company, the choreographer briefs the parents on the benefits offered to the trainees and the education they get.

Both the parents smile when they hear about the great benefits offered and the chance to finish their education, unlike other companies.

“We like that your company allows them to finish their studies. We want Mina to finish her schooling if possible,” says Mina’s dad.

“Yes, we understand that joining the entertainment business isn’t what some parents see as an ideal job. Here, out of our company, we want everyone to receive higher education in case the trainees decide to change their career path. We also allow them to gain experience in the field by applying to be staff in our company.”

Her parents seem a bit more comfortable hearing that there is a backup plan just in case she doesn’t want to continue. You go over on why you want Mina in your company and what you are willing to offer.

“I’m glad you think highly of our daughter and her talents. She’s been a good girl, and we think she should make this decision on her l own,” says Mina’s mom.

Mina shyly speaks up, “I want to go. I’m a bit nervous, but I think it’d be nice to meet other people who enjoy dancing.”

“Are you sure, Mina?” asks her dad.

“Yes, Ceo-nim complimented my dancing a lot, so I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Her mom then asks, “Okay, then it’s decided. Please take care of our daughter and her future.”

“I will.”

Mina and her parents sign the contract. You congratulate both of them and assure them they won’t regret it.

“Do you need her to fly to Korea now?”

Take care of your schooling and enjoy a small break. I’ll personally come and you all to the company and give you a tour and see our facilities.”

As you’re about to leave, Mina walks up and grabs the edge of your jacket, “CEO-nim, I won’t disappoint you,” as she plays with her fingers.

——————

It’s been a few days after signing Mina to your label, and you have been preparing for her arrival. During the week, you also had Jessica living with you after collecting her items from her apartment. She tells you about her plan to return to America and set up her own fashion brand.

During her stay at your place, Jessica has looked online for possible houses to buy during her stay back in San Francisco. “What do you think about this one?” she asks.

“That one looks nice; it has a nice backyard, and it's not directly in the middle of the city.”

“I like this one too, but it seems busy.”

“You said you want to relax, so maybe something where there are not too many tourists.”

“It has been nice to see them in person.”

“If you want, I can schedule a few open houses; I’m almost done with what I have to do.”

“But how are we going to get there without getting noticed? I don’t want the public to see me like this.”

“We can take my plane there.”

“You got a plane?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go through the hassle of chartering a plane, so I just bought one myself.”

You arrive in San Francisco two days later and go to multiple open houses. Most of these homes are in the millions, but you’re willing to spend that much for your child. After a few days of looking, Jessica makes up her mind, and you sign a contract to purchase the house. The both of you stopped by her parents' house to drop off some items before heading back to Korea. Jessica is about to open the door when you hear, “Jessica, is that you?” Out comes a younger version of her, her sister. She looks at you in annoyance and says, “Is that the guy that knocked you up?”

Jessica reacts and smacks her, “Shut up!” The sister runs back inside as Jessica tries to hit her again but fails. “Sorry for the rude girl over there, but that is my younger sister, Krystal.” You try to introduce yourself to her sister, but she ignores you.

“So, I heard from Mom and Dad that you bought a house nearby.”

“Actually, he bought the house,” she said as she looked in my direction.

“Hmph… that’s the least he could do after getting you pregnant and causing you to get kicked out.”

“Krystal, be quiet.”

“But it’s true. He was the cause for everything.”

“It’s partially my fault, too, not just his.”

The two of them continue to discuss with each other, and you say, “I’m going to be heading back to the airport. I’ll be back to help you move in. Also, send me the information on the fashion line.” Jessica turns around and kisses you on the cheek before you head out.

————-

A bit over a week has passed, and you are headed to Japan to pick up Mina and her parents.

They board the plane, and during the flight, you give them the rundown of what they will see during their stay in Korea.

“After arriving, we can have lunch and tour the campus. I will lead the tour while your items are taken to the hotel I reserved for you during your stay. The second day would be reviewing some fine details about Mina’s stay and looking at the dorms she would be staying in. You then have the next few days to tour around and do as you wish, and the company will pay for it.”

“Ceo-nim, you don’t have to do that,” says Mina’s mom.

“I want to. Mina is the first idol I personally recruited, making it a special moment. Plus, your daughter has a lot of talent, so it would be rude of me not to respond in kindness.”

Mina and Mina’s mom smile while her dad agrees that his daughter is worthy of such consideration.

You all arrive at the company and walk into the main building. You take them through the meeting room, cafeteria, and main practice rooms. The next stop is the education center, where most trainees have classes to finish their education, take extracurricular activities, or want to study.

The last place is the large building where I have practice rooms for small to large groups or for individual practice. “The place is so big and new,” says Mina’s mom.

“We want all our trainees and idols with the opportunity to succeed, so we provide them with the best, anywhere from education to mental health.”

“What about security, like the safety of the trainees and idols?” asks dad.

“The campus is normally closed to the public. Most areas require a security clearance based on the position you have in the company. For example, we separate the trainees and idols to prevent any potential conflict, such as education builds and dorms. Since most of them have a regular schedule, we tend to know where they are at. If there are any irregularities, we use these bracelets to know where they last were since they are used to access building doors.”

“What about if they get sick? How do they get treatment?” asks Mina’s mom.

“We do have a health center that can deal with common issues and is planning to build an in-house hospital for all company employees, trainees, and idols.”

“Seems like you all have things figured out,” says Mina’s dad.

“We want to ensure the safety of everyone here and make it as easy for them to concentrate on their goals.

After the tour, all of you go out to dinner before calling it a night. “I’ll leave you all for the night and see you early in the morning. You’ll get to experience our cafeteria and see the dorms.”

————-

Early in the morning, you meet Mina and her parents outside the cafeteria. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Ceo-nim.”

“How was your sleep?”

“It was great; the beds were really comfortable.”

“That’s good to hear. We use the same mattress for our dorms here.”

“You hear that, Mina. Make sure not to sleep in too much,” says her dad.

“Otōsan… not in front of the Ceo,” whines Mina and covers her embarrassed face.

“It’s fine; I sometimes enjoy a good rest.”

The four of you head to the cafeteria. Mina is surprised by the number of food options that the area offers. “We offer meals three times a day and have cafes and small shops throughout the campus. You can even order a custom meal if given prior notice.”

Mina walks to the line, gets various dishes, and walks out of the line with a gummy smile.

“Seems like our daughter is going to get accustomed to here in no time,” says Dad in a joking manner.

We all laugh, and Mina turns red again from her dad teasing her. We continue to have breakfast. When we are done, we head out to the dorms where she will stay.

“The dorms are not that far away but separate from the rest of the campus. We have multiple types of dorms for those who are over of age and who are not. We keep them separate since they have different schedules and rules. Once placed in a group, you are moved to a large dorm based on the number of people within the group. They have a kitchen and more space to get to know each other better and build relationships.”

“So does that mean I get to room with another person?”

“We actually have a room available that is meant for two, but you’ll be using it on your own. Obviously, when we get more trainees, we will pair you up with someone who has similar interests.”

As we walk down the road to the dorms, her parents are amazed by how well-maintained they look. Mina cannot help but comment on how they look like college dorms and is excited to see her own dorm. “Is this my dorm?”

“Actually, yes. The one on the left.”

You take out your phone and call the dorm manager. She came outside and introduced herself as the one in charge of managing the building and dorm RA.

She leads the group to the second floor of the building and into the unoccupied wing. “You won't be in this wing, but we are going to use it as an example. Here are the shared bathrooms with multiple stalls and showers cleaned frequently. You are all divided in wings so there are not many who use the bathrooms. There are also individual restrooms throughout the building.”

She then walks to a room and opens it, “This is an example of a double room; there are two beds, a large closet for, and a table.” The parents walk around and seem to like the room, “it’s big. I think you’ll like Mina,” says her mom. “Next, we’ll see a triple room, and it’s much bigger than the double.”

After the demonstration, the manager walks the group to the dorm that Mina will be occupying. “This will be your room, Mina. It’s a double, but you won't have a roommate as of now. We expect a new round of incoming trainees, so you might be paired up soon.”

“Look, Mina, it has a nice view,” says her dad.

You comment, “I think you’ll like it. You are more than welcome to return tomorrow so you can help with the move-in process. Let’s return to my office and discuss some minor details.”

You are all in your office and take out two large folders, a copy for the parents and one for Mina. “These will be your copy of the contract, the expectations and the list of benefits, and some of the options we offer in extracurricular activities. Also, we don’t ask for any payment from the parents, and it's covered by us until they debut. After that, we do take out a share of what was invested for training.”

“That sounds more than reasonable; I heard of other companies asking for large amounts of money upfront,” says the dad.

“Yes, some do, but since we are a new company, we want to separate ourselves from them.”

As you and the parents talk, Mina looks at the extracurricular catalog and tries to decide on what she wants to join.

“Do you have an idea, sweetheart?” asks Mina’s mom.

“There are so many options, I can’t make up my mind.”

“It’s okay, Mina. Take your time; choose whenever you are ready.”

Her mom looks through the dance section and says, “I see you don’t offer Ballet.”

“Yes, unfortunately, we don’t have many trainees that practice. It was something that we wanted to have and actually have a room for it, but it's not completed.”

“What do you think, Mina? Do you still want to practice ballet?” asks her dad.

“I don’t know. I want to try other dances, but I also want to continue.”

“If you want, we can complete it for you. I would be more than happy to see you dance again.”

“See, Mina, the CEO himself said that we want to see you dance and is willing to finish its construction just for you,” says her dad.

You see, Mina thinks about it and fiddles with her fingers, “Do you really like my dancing, Ceo-nim?”

“Yes, I really did.”

“Umm… if you like it, then I’ll be more than happy to continue.”

“Aww, sweetie, that’s good to hear,” says her mom.

“That would be amazing, Mina. Then, I’ll make sure we finish the construction of the studio. You’ll be our first user so it would be like your personal dance studio, haha,.”

“See, Mina, your own studio,” says her mom.

“Thank you so much; I’ll try to live up to your expectations of me,” says Mina shyly.

After that conversation, a member of the trainee team came in and explained the clearance system and the bracelet that Mina would be wearing. This will give her access to her room and other facilities. “We have your information in our system. This bracelet serves as a smartwatch and access key to your room, the buildings you are cleared for, your health profile for the health center, and the cafeteria.”

Mina confirms her information, and the bracelet activates. The team member puts on her bracelet and shows her how it works and what type of data it shows on our end. “This information is kept on our private servers and are not shared anywhere. So when you scan it in a certain location, it only shows based information and nothing else. Try using it here.”

The screen shows Mina’s basic information as a trainee and a picture. “Okay, it seems like you’re all ready to move in.”

—————

It’s been a few weeks since Mina moved into the dorms, and she’s been slowly adjusting to her new environment. You call her a few times a week to ask how she is doing or if she needs anything. Like always, she’s shy and soft-spoken.

Today, you called her to your office to give her some news that will affect her position as a trainee. “Good morning, CEO-nim. I’m here because you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, good morning Mina. Come over and talk a seat.”

“Is something the matter?”

“Yes. I have been in contact with JYP Entertainment, and we are going to collaborate. The company will receive a couple of its idols as part of an agreement. You will be placed together with them since you’re one of the newest trainees.”

“Do you know how many trainees will be coming over?”

“There will be fifteen others; some of them have trainees for a long time while others have just a few years.”

“Does that mean I'll be getting a roommate?”

“Yes, they should be arriving within a week, so try to make them feel comfortable.”

————-

“I hope you treat my trainees well,” says Park Jin-young.

“Don’t worry. They’re going to enjoy their time here.”

“I hope so.”

You then step forward and introduce yourself, “Hello, everyone. Welcome to Olympus Entertainment. I hope you enjoy your time here and build friendships with those around you.”

All the trainees from JYP, in unison, stand up and say, “Thank you for having us, CEO.”

“All of you already know why you’re here, but, as a formality, introduce yourselves.

“Hello, my name is Im Na-yeon.”

“Hello, my name is Yoo Jeong-yeon.”

“Hello, my name is Hirai Momo.”

“Hello, my name is Minatozaki Sana.”

“Hello, my name is Park Ji-hyo.”

“Hello, my name is Myoi Mina.”

“Hello, my name is Song Min-young.”

“Hello, my name is Park Ji-won.

“Hello, my name is Kim Da-hyun.”

“Hello, my name is Son Chae-young.”

“Hello, my name is Chou Tzu-yu.”

“Hello, my name is Lee Chae-yeon.”

“Hello, my name is Kim Eun-suh.”

“Hello, my name is Jeon So-mi.”

“Hello, my name is Lee Chae-ryeong.”

“Hello, my name is Natty.”

“Welcome once again, all sixteen of you.”

#twice #male reader #twice fluff #kpop fluff #twice Mina #TM smut #Jessica Jung #Jung Jessica #snsd jessica #kpop idol

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leclsrc · 1 year

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sweet pea ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, dad charles/pregnancy au, fluff!, humor, super slight angst

word count: 4.6k

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?” “Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm.”

Or: you finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

notes... some nsfw allusions, nothing too bad. if pregnancy isnt ur thing this is all about it so.

auds here... i hated this for a long time so i thought id never post it hahahah but i will now bec i just redid some scenes and its okay in my eyes... also this is a bit overdue. i hope u like it everyone! :) title from this

It’s an hour before the race and you’re absent from your usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, you’re leaned against the wall of the tiny motorhome bathroom, silently digging your toes into your sandals. Charles knocks twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. He beams when he sees you, goes, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He offers a hand, but you let your eyes shut, refusing to take it. You fail to even make eye contact, holding up the plastic stick that’d been in your clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s an omen, a portent, a cursed thing, casting your best friend into silence.

It’s cold and sterile in the bathroom—a stark contrast to where other families might find out they’re pregnant for the first time. You imagine a lemon yellow room bathed in noon sunlight and a happy balding doctor going “It’s positive, mama!” You picture a white family SUV in the parking lot, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness.

Instead, you get: “Do you have COVI—oh.”

“Yeah.” You say, pursing your lips. You swallow. “Oh.”

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?”

“Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm,” you counter, lifting yourself from the wall and bumping past Charles on your way out and into his room. He follows, brows knitted together, muttering something French under his breath.

“By that logic, that’d mean you’re an alien now, too. See, your kinks have finally met their match.”

You turn, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He almost collides with you, his eyes trained determinedly on the positive pregnancy test in his hand. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, annoyed. “Seriously. Jokes? Right now?”

“I mean—”

“Whatever,” you say, waving him off. “Just go and drive. We can talk about this later.”

“I’ll dedicate the race to the little alien.” He giggles, mimicking a champagne spray, waving the invisible bottle back and forth toward your still-not-showing stomach. His accent switches to a measly English one when he goes, “Oh my Gawd! And there goes the alien Leclerc! Wins in first! From pole!”

“Get out. Or so help me God this baby is growing up without you.”

He ends up winning. (“Should I dedicate every race to the ali—” “Stop calling it that.”)

—

This is nothing but a final culmination of your very layered relationship with Charles. For years, you two had comfortably gone by the “best friends” label, with a hidden “with benefits” clause. You’d grown up together, separated only when you went to university in New York. Your re-arrival in Monaco, coupled with the both of you having grown older and more independent, marked the start of the sex.

It works like clockwork. To relieve stress, to celebrate, to cure boredom. At some point, both of you just inwardly admitted there was a certain weakness to it. A glass of wine, a stick of tobacco, and you’d give in to the temptation easily. Then, in the morning—sometimes in Monaco, other times in foreign countries where your body feels like it’s still three a.m.—you come to a mutual agreement to never do it again.

But you always do, laughing in between kisses, mumbling whispered nothings between the sheets (or in the bathtub, or against the wall, or—that one time—on the balcony.) And now there’s proof of it. Well, barely any yet, you realize, staring at yourself in the mirror of Charles’ hotel room. You turn and flop yourself onto the bed, but face-up. You inch yourself toward the headboard and lean against it in a half-seated position.

“I can’t believe I’m…” You sigh. Finally, the jokes fizzle. This is the real talk.

Charles burrows himself next to you, shirtless and in a stupid pair of boxers with red hearts all over them. You’d gotten them as a Valentine’s Day gag two years ago, but now you’re thinking of the future, of telling this kid their dad has a pair of heart-decorated boxers. Momentarily, and temptingly so, you weigh the options of telling Charles you were joking and running away before sunup.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks. He’d learned the phrase from some obscure American rom-com, if you recall correctly. He uses it constantly, and for many years, improperly.

“I’ll give you them for free,” you say, breathless with worry. “We’re having a kid.”

A hand places itself on your knee. You almost jerk away, but you relax. “What do you want to do?”

“With?” You ask, emptily. There’s so much to do. “The baby?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but also us.”

“We’re not dating,” you say, a bit sharper than intended.

“We could.” He pauses. “For its sake.” He pokes your abdomen.

“I don’t—” You inhale, trying to reorganize all your thoughts. “I don’t want people thinking we’re suddenly dating and engaged and happy just because I’m about to pop a Charles Jr. out. I mean, what are you going to do with your racing? With a kid on the way, how’s travel going to work? My job? My masters?”

“I think… I think you and I are lucky enough,” he says slowly, “to be able to weigh all these options without losing too much time or resources. I will support you no matter what, and you know that. And really, who cares if people think we ‘date’ because of the baby? You and I have been ‘dating’ since we were eleven.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until your laugh is mixed with a sob. You don’t know if you’re sad, pissed, overwhelmed, loved—or all four. “Okay? So… let’s both think about it. More you than me. And tomorrow, we can weigh this all over again. Let’s sleep on it. Remember? La nuit—”

“—porte conseil,” you finish tearily. “Okay.”

—

It’s two weeks later. Charles gets stuck in the paddock doing something or other for Sunday, so you’re left to your own devices in the parking lot. Five minutes of waiting turns to fifteen, then a half hour. That’s the catalyst for your mid-evening freakout—suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you and this weird thing inside you might be alone, left for work, by an athlete dad.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks when you’re heaving out another dry, panic-induced sigh. You turn, finding it familiar, and see Seb behind you. He may have been Charles’ teammate, but he’s a friend to you, too, and you find he’s always the most grounded in heated discussions.

“Seb,” you croak, caught off guard. “I’m fine.” Your voice breaks on the ine, and suddenly fat tears roll quietly down your face.

You tell him eventually, when he asks you again if you’re okay, making him the second person to know; still, the telling doesn’t get easier. You didn’t even tell Charles, you think. You merely shoved a Clearblue stick in his face and waited for the goofy reaction that would undoubtedly meet your ears.

“A baby,” he says softly. Happily. “Congratulations. This is a big step… but you don’t sound excited.”

“I mean,” you say in between waves of tears, “I am? I am. But—it happened so fast—we’re not even officially together—and Charles is—”

“Do I need to talk some sense into Charles?” Seb asks suddenly, concerned.

“No. He’s—he’s being great. Really supportive.�� You wipe the tears and fresh ones come. “He’s happy. You know him. I think I’m just overwhelmed. I mean I’m the one who’s toting this baby around.”

“Take it one step at a time,” he muses. “See a doctor, work out non-race schedules with Mattia, get everything in order. If I know you, this baby will be in the best hands. And that’s not even counting Charles.” He pulls you in for a hug that lasts ages, one that says thank you and I love you better than words. You inhale, find the tears have stopped. You realize what comes after this—it’s telling everyone else. Lily, your best friend. Carlos. Charles’ family. Your family. The fans, oh God you’d forgotten about the fans. The social media announcements.

Charles strolls into the parking lot—runs, more like, with apologies spouting out of him, just two minutes after Seb leaves. He presses a delicate, apologetic kiss to your forehead, a hand on your stomach. “Hey,” he says. Then, to your abdomen, covered by a sweatshirt, “Hey there, alien.” You wonder what this will be like in two months. In seven. In nine.

—

You tell your families over lunch on a lucky off day. There is little surprise—just tears from both your moms and Arthur teasingly asking you to recount the details of conception. You’re in a sundress serving crostini when Pascale pulls you aside to the back of the yard.

She presses a kiss to your cheek, one of conviction and faith. “I always knew,” she says. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom.”

—

The drivers all find out one way or another, news trickling through the grapevine like honey. You share it to Lily first, and of course she tells Alex. You tell Lewis, too, over spring rolls that he claims will power up the baby when it’s born. Charles tells Pierre, who tells Yuki, and Carlos, who tells Lando. You tell Mick, who hugs you and says, “Oh my god! I already knew, Seb told me. I kept wanting to say congratulations.”

It’s a matter of two weeks before everybody knows. You know because you’ve barely taken a step into the dimly lit Ferrari motorhome when you halt and bolt back outside, harboring yourself a few metres away at a safe distance. Charles, who had been walking beside you, arm looped around your waist, turns, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“No. Nuh-uh. It smells in there.”

He sniffs the darkness, fumbles for the light switch. “No it doesn’t.”

“It smells like”—you grit your teeth, trying to identify the stench—“cheese. And champagne.”

“Why would it smell like che—”

He bangs the light open and illuminates a surprise party. The entire grid starts cheering, having unheard the entire conversation. There’s a huge banner that says CONGRATULATIONS PARENTS, and on a makeshift table in the centre, an assortment of cake slices, cheese, and flutes of champagne. Charles laughs with delight at the surprise, and then turns to find you squatting on the ground, trying to quell your stomach.

“Give me five,” you say, waving him off.

He returns after ten to find you still trying to calm the waves of nausea. You hear his footsteps and heave yourself up, standing to face him. “I asked Esteban and Max to evacuate the place of cheese and champagne. It’s just coffee and cake now. I even got three fans going.”

“Desolée,” you say, miserable. He wraps two big arms around you, nestling his chin atop your head. “I feel like a high-maintenance monster.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not the monster. The alien is.”

“I told you to stop calling it that,” you say, shutting your eyes and leaning into his touch. “Before it catches on.”

“Okay. E.T.? Spock? Open to suggestions.” Hand in yours, he walks you gently to the party, arising loud cheers again. In between sips of hot water, he says, “How about Chewy?”

—

The sense of smell proves to be useful in endeavours elsewhere.

“You never clean your car,” you say, lying horizontal on the leather seat and picking bits of dirt off. “I can smell month old Cheetos.”

Charles watches you obsessively nitpick at the detailing. “Last time you looked like this, I gave you a baby.”

“One more word,” you warn sharply.

“But seriously, be careful. The alien might get stressed.”

You brace yourself for the stupid words that will indubitably follow.

“Don’t worry. If it falls out I’ll plop it in a race car and it’ll be the next Hamilton. Imagine how light it’ll be.”

There it is.

—

Your first trip to the doctor’s is interesting. Charles insists on wearing a wig because he’s so easily recognized in Monaco, so now you look like you’re conceiving a baby with Weird Al Yankovic.

The doctor wheels in a cart with a monitor and all the necessary equipment, and even if it suddenly feels all too real, Charles squeezes your hand and you’re calm again. “I’m back,” she says, sliding into a wheely chair beside you and gelling your stomach.

“Hi, Back,” Charles responds in a crude, twangy Texan accent. The dad humor starts early, you suppose.

You grit your teeth to try and excuse his embarrassing behavior, but suddenly the monitor clicks open and there it is. It looks like the ones in movies, print-outs from friends, but at the same time it doesn’t. It looks different. Special. Yours. You zero in on it, breathless. That’s yours. The doctor says a couple minor things—nothing worrisome—and when you turn to relay it to Charles in case he’d zoned out, you find his face splotchy.

“Are you crying?”

“That’s ours,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s mine and Charles’, not mine and Bob Ross’,” you say, but you pull him closer anyway.

You order two printouts. The week next, you discover that Charles snuck back in to order an extra eight and has mailed them out to friends and drivers. You find out because Kylian Mbappe messages you “Due in April? Make me godfather!” on Instagram.

—

Gradually, you fall into a pattern of being queasy constantly. You get nitpicky with meals, and not irrationally—Charles had fed you a spicy hotdog and you’d gone half a bite before hurling it, and your breakfast, into the nearest toilet. You find solace in your cravings—all of which happen to be the same everyday.

Chinese takeout from just about any restaurant ends up being your best friend. You somehow can’t stomach anything but that specific cuisine, much to your own surprise. You find new ways to combine them with each other. Rice paper wrappers with chow mein. Hotpot with fried rice. If you’re not eating Chinese, you reduce your appetite to crackers or hot tea to avoid becoming too nauseated.

It’s poetic almost, the way he sets out the food carefully, in the order you like them. He always presses a kiss to your forehead after.

Around this time, you develop a crazy sex drive, waking Charles up at numerous points of the night, begging into his neck for something, anything. You last an hour before you’re asking again. This proves especially difficult before races, where Charles gives in a bit too easily and Carlos has to knock on the door, going “You have to finish somewhere else too, Charles!”

—

You insist Charles hold off on telling the fans, for a few months. It goes okay until your outfits on the paddock evolve into the variety of “Charles’ hoodies” to hide the increasingly evident bloat of pregnancy, and nosy fans start speculating all over Twitter. That’s when he sits you down and gently tells you he thinks it’s time you both announce it.

You’re sitting beside him in his hotel room, after two calls with his bosses, trying to formulate the proper announcement. You download PicsArt to make it pretty and clean and formatted—because the poor guy was about to post a Notes app screenshot—and then it’s on the Internet.

“She’s truly MOTHER,” one fan comments. Despite yourself, you press the heart icon beside it. It’s your bit of comfort when you catch sight of the nastier comments under the post.

—

You’re ironically gifted an ancient 80s aerobic exercise DVD for mums by Lily and Alex. You’re sure it’s older than you. Charles, though, in his valiant effort to connect with you and Chewy, does the routine everyday. You wake up to the electronic synthpop and Charles doing booty squats in the living room.

The permed instructor smiles through the scratchy 80s quality and goes, “You are rocking it, momma!”

“You hear that?!” Charles pants. “I am rocking it!”

—

Your first parenting fight ends up being one over the baby’s name. Yeah. Of all things. You don’t know why you’re so worked up about it, considering you don’t even know the gender of the baby yet. You arrive in Monaco to mark the first of five off days and Charles makes some random, offhand joke about naming the baby Daryl, and you suddenly start rambling on and on about how it’s too ugly, even if you’d never thought about names before now.

“It’s not going to be Daryl. It won’t be Daryl,” Charles says, hands on your shoulders. You heave another sob. “Please stop crying. You never cry. I’m a bit freaked out.”

“It’s—just—that,” you hiccup, “I—don’t—want to name a—our—baby—Daryl.”

“Yeah, yep,” he says, soothingly. “I got you. It’s not going to be Daryl. Never. We don’t need to decide anything. You gonna calm down for me?”

“I can’t—stop—crying,” you snivel desperately, burying your face in your hands.

He presses a firm kiss to the corner of your quivering lips, and you tug him in for a real one. You calm down when you pull away, exhaling. You gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Blame the alien,” you sniff.

He kisses your stomach, which shows signs of pregnancy more and more as the days pass. “Hear that?” He whispers into the skin. “She’s blaming you, Chewy.”

—

Your next trip to the doctor’s is with your appointed private physician, Dr. Davies. Two minutes before the doctor walks in, you make a serious and compelling order for Charles to remove the Weird Al wig, which he does—but stores in your bag, “just in case.” It’s also his opporunity to play teacher’s pet and showcase how involved he is in your pregnancy, which, judging by the amount of weird cultish pregnancy books he’s burned through, is very much so.

“It’s gonna be a boy,” you declare while you’re being gelled up. You’re past the point of denial and bloat, now showing way too obviously. “Mom’s intuition.”

“Well, all the books say it’s a girl,” he says proudly.

“Yeah, they also say drinking lemon juice while trying to conceive gives you a girl. I’m sure scientific accuracy was their greatest objective.”

“Girl.”

“Boy,” you say dismissively.

“Girl.”

“Boy.”

“Girl.” It’s not Charles this time, it’s the physician, with a small smile on his face.

You squeeze Charles’ hand so hard you’re half sure it’s chipped off and fallen to the tiled floor. You’re having a girl. Normally Charles would turn and make some petty statement about he’d been right, but—you’re having a girl. A pretty baby girl. You almost can’t believe it. He totally can’t, pressing kisses to your hair and face.

You let him buy pink paint later that day.

—

You predict it, but it comes—fights and squabbles over nothing at all.

First it’s about work, then housing, then his job, then the danger of his job. It’s petty, and usually you storm off in an emotional cloud of irrationality, brought down after a talk, a play-by-play, compromise, reassurance. It’s hard when you’re carrying around a human being, you want to say. Try being in my shoes.

“Can we talk?” Charles says, in the thick of another fight. You’re on the balcony of your flat, mulling over nothing at all. Your stomach is heavy, you’re always exhausted, you never feel pretty anymore even if Charles is always unfailing at telling you you are.

“Okay,” you murmur, turning. You’ve already developed a habit of placing your hands on your bump always.

He inhales. “I’m scared.”

This is a first. And you realize—in these six months of being pregnant, Charles has been your rock, but has never expressed much fear until now. He’s always been good. Great. Supportive. “Of what?”

“Of—becoming a dad.” He pauses, as if to weigh his words. “I don’t have… a blueprint anymore.”

It dawns on you what he’s talking about. You accept the hug when it comes, holding the nape of his neck. He isn’t crying, but is close to it. His voice is shaky when he continues, whispers against your ear. “What if I don’t know what to do?”

“Baby,” you say, weakly. You push him gently so he’s looking into your eyes. “If the way you’ve taken care of me the past how many months is any indication of how you’ll treat this alien, I know she’s in good hands. You’ve got so much of your dad in you. You’re caring, sweet, you even got a headstart on the dad jokes.” He laughs. “I want this. And the only reason I ever did was because I knew you’d be with me, being an amazing dad, and an even better…”

“Boyfriend,” he says. His eyes hold hesitance—but you quell it with a nod.

“Boyfriend,” you echo. “For now.”

—

The nursery looks like a nursery in February. It was a storage room in Charles’ flat that had really, at some point, become yours, too. Full of boxes and old suits and memories, it’d taken weeks to properly store everything and make way for the furniture. Charles, of course, insists on painting it himself, with the shade of pink he purchased especially for the room.

He hits his head twice and touches the wet paint. There’s a handprint embossed above the bassinet. (Yours is next to it, at his insistence.)

—

You’re a yoga ball by mid-March, having trouble sleeping and dealing with everything being swollen. Charles helps you through it all, turning the heating up and down every time you get even a bit scratchy with the temperature in the flat or motorhome. Your cravings also morph again at this point, into rigatoni that Charles cooked sometime over winter; he requests Ferrari add an induction stove to every race weekend motorhome that you can make it to so he can cook it at your beck and call.

The season begins. Every race is dedicated to Chewy, and every race is won.

—

It’s early morning in late March when Dr. Davies sends you an email with a one-liner that sounds firm enough to set you and Charles in place after two races that involve you being flown around.

Absolutely NO more air and long car travel for Mommy.

“Can we manage?” You mope, rereading the email, genuinely distressed as you watch your boyfriend pack for Australia. It’s a long haul flight, with only one stopover in Zurich, and you’re filled with anxiety. There isn’t a compromise—until you’re popping the baby out, Charles needs to try and score the title.

“You know I can always drop out of races,” he says softly. “That’s what reserve drivers are for.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “I’m just worried.”

“You’re not due ’til the 12th,” he assures you. “I’ll be back then, even if it means dropping a race.”

He leans down and kisses you softly, rubbing your shoulders and ankles. “I’ll be back before you know it. Get some sleep first, okay?” He repeats the sentiment to your stomach, adding a kiss and a bye bye Chewy. You drift off to a sorrowful sleep when he departs, a slow ache in your lower back blooming that feels just like many of the other slow aches lately.

You’re up after a half hour with discomfort. You suppose something is just up with your sleep position, and readjust yourself. The discomfort sharpens, then melts. You sigh with relief, a long whistley exhale, and sleep again.

Bliss lasts about three hours, then you’re up again, groaning. You’re not due for a prenatal yoga class until four in the afternoon, and your body isn’t used to being awake. Hell, it’s not used to being this pained. You shift once, twice, trying to sleep with fruitless and exhausting attempts. It takes a while, but in between shifting positions and trying to make yourself yawn, it registers.

“Chewy.” You groan, cupping your gigantic bump. “Seriously?”

—

The first person you call is Charles, naturally. He should be in Zurich, but maybe signal is spotty or something, because none of your texts or calls ping. So you move down the list to the person you know will be in Monaco and not off racing, like everybody you know is—and it just so happens to be Dr. Davies.

You always thought Charles would be nowhere but beside you when you went into labor. But you’re here clutching the straps of your overnight bag being driven to the hospital, exhale, inhale, try Charles, try Carlos. Exhale, inhale. Try Charles. Try Carlos. Your contractions don’t quell; they only grow in intensity and you wince the whole ride through.

“Looks like it’s going to be a fast labor,” Dr. Davies says when he’s done checking you in and making sure everything is in order. You nod, breathless and flushed. You’ve called your mum here and she’s on the way with Charles’ but—Charles is the issue.

“I will weld myself shut if it means I’m giving birth without the dad,” you beg. “Without Charles.”

Charles, who picks up after forty-five minutes of radio silence. He’s in the jet. Give him an hour. “I will pilot this plane myself if I have to. Don’t do anything—don’t make any decisions without me.”

“Too fucking late.” You say, wheezy with labor. “I’m putting N/A on the certificate.”

“You carry Chewy around for nine months and I don’t get to meet her first?” He asks, in a last-ditch effort to cheer you up. You tear up, splotchy and red all over.

“We can’t call her Chewy. We never discussed names. And oh God it can’t be Daryl,” you say, whimpers turning into half-sobs of overwhelm and yearning. You’re scared. You need Charles, who’s been with you for every week, every milestone, every kick, every rigatoni craving. But he’s not here. You have Dr. Davies, and in five minutes you’ll have your mum and Pascale, but they are not Charles. You breathe heavy into the phone.

“I love you,” you say finally. “Please, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says gently. “I love you. I’ll be there, okay? Just—just wait for me.”

—

Lil 3s ago

does it hurt?

i know it does but i’m trying to make u feel better

love from houston. i will call you ASAP.

You 1s ago

yeah it hurts so bad

apparently they don’t do epidurals

fuck europe

—

In between quiet periods and intense ones, you finally reach your peak. A nurse takes one glance and nods and your bed is disengaged and wheeling around again. Pascale squeezes your left hand, your mum the other. “Wait!” You pant, voice spent, totally tired, flustered.

The nurses exchange a look. “Ma’am—”

“No, you don’t understand. The dad, my—the dad—he’s out—and I don’t.” You pause, the onset of a cry coming on. Pascale takes the lead, firm, asking for a few more moments of patience.

“I can’t do this,” you say hopelessly, throwing your flushed head back. “No. Not without Charles.”

“I’m here,” Charles says, bounding through the door. He’s in official Ferrari gear and his hair is disheveled and he's clearly been crying. Had Chewy not been wedging her way out, you would’ve kissed him right then. You feel nothing but love.

“You’re a sneaky fucker,” you say instead, and the rest is a blur.

—

It’s an hour before the race and Charles is absent from his usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, he’s leaned against the wall of the motorhome, silently digging his toes into his shoes. You knock twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. You beam when you see him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

His two girls.

Julia stretches out a chubby hand, but he smiles teasingly, refusing to take it. He holds eye contact, holding up the ring that’d been in his clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s a symbol, a sign, a blessed thing, casting his girlfriend into silence.

It’s a bit dark—a stark contrast to where other guys might propose for the first time. He imagines a Caribbean beach bathed in sunset. He pictures a Jeep in the sand, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness. He figures if you don’t like this, he’ll pay for that.

Instead, he gets: “You’re a doofus—oh.”

“Yeah.” He says, pursing his lips. He swallows, gives you the biggest smile of his life. “Oh.”

It’s perfect.

#f1 #leclsrc1000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader

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p3ndeja6 · 10 months

Text

-; ✧˖*°࿐

Summary: you and colby brock have been friends with benefits for a while, You eventually developed feelings and so did he. But you didn’t know, he would always give you the cold shoulder after sex. you were fed up.

Content tags: jealousy, arguments/yelling, alcohol usage, angst 100%, light smut, MAJOR plot, possibly a happy ending probably not (there is)

Colby b. x reader

(this was in the drafts for like 5 months, my bad if it’s ass)

-; ✧˖*°࿐

———————————————————————————

“fuck.. colby, right there” you whined at the roughness Colby was hitting you with. both you and Colby were almost to your climax, hitting your g-spot constantly and you being fucked dumb.

“you feel so good y/n, no one like you”

these words coming from him felt so good and loved but you knew that the minute he came in you, that would all go away. You wanted to savor the moments where he would say all these sweet nothings in your ear.

“fuck colby….almost ….there.. faster… faster” you tried completely full sentences but you’d become weaker by every thrust and became dumb fucked every time his long, thick, dick would push through your fleshy, pudgy walls.

These words kept him going, probably for another hour if you could handle it. You both were so close, and you got closer together.

“colby!.. I can’t hold it.. I.. need to.. come” “fuck, come for me pretty girl, gimme everything .. you got”

you came after hearing these words, and not a minute less so did he. You could hear your heartbeat going 10 beats per second, your cheeks and ears were hot, forehead covered in beads of sweat, your stomach was all wet from your sweat and his cum that flowed up to your stomach. Colby on the other, was also satisfied, still heavy breathing, eyes closed, so mesmerized the way his dick had a full effect on you and how he had you wrapped around his dick. He felt guilty by what he was about to do. He wanted you to be with him but he just couldn’t bring himself to show this other affectionate side of him, (besides the one side where you are having sex)

“alright.. y/n , you can leave now”

you knew those words were coming but they hurt every time you heard them. You wanted to say something to him that enough is enough. That you were done being his fuck buddy.

“Fine.. colby, I’ll go” as you got up and started putting on your clothes, you turned to him, “but this is the last time you and me are doing this, I’m done with these late night booty calls”

you finally confessed

“w-what?” he said confused on why this sudden change

“yeah, I’m done colby, we’ve been doing this for far too long.. it was bound to happen that one of us was going to catch feelings first.. I had to be the first one,, I want to be more than friends with benefits” you exclaimed

“oh my god y/n , we’ve been over that we just fuck for fun, no strings attached. Why can’t you get that wrapped around your fucking head? I want nothing more..” he didn’t mean any of that. He actually did want to be something more, a label, a reason to call you “mine” “girlfriend” “lover” ,, he just didn’t want to .. at that moment”

you were fighting tears and did not want him to see you in this state, you hated being weak. You couldn’t help but spill a few, “fuck you colby, fuck you… everything about yourself, I never should’ve done this in the first place, you were a waste of my fucking time, I never want to see you again” you said wiping the few tears that fell with your middle finger, collecting the last of your things

you slammed the door as you walked your way out

“ yeah! Fucking go! You know your way out!” He yelled

he was so crushed and hated himself for the way this escalated, he cried the entire night.

-; ✧˖*°࿐

days, weeks, have gone by since you and Colby’s argument. you’ve been crying in your room for weeks, that kat had to make a home visit because you wouldn’t answer texts, calls, or tiktok dms.

kat had a copy of your house key, when she finally found it.

“y/n?… it’s me kat!, I’m here to check in you”

she walked around the house noticing very poor hygiene in the kitchen, dirty dishes being piled up, the living, food wrapped and tissues all over, the bathroom all disorganized and dusty. She knew you were badly hurt since you loved staying clean and loved keeping a tidy,clean, refreshing home. Before she found you she helped you by cleaning the kitchen and the living room.

she finally reached your room, knocked on it a couple of times then walking in.

she saw you under the sheets tissues, food wrappers and dirty dishes all scattered around. The smell of alcohol lightly lingering the room.

“Jesus y/n, how are you living in these conditions?” She walks around trying to get to you. “Cmon y/n, talk to me, what happened?”

you obviously have been awake but have been laying in silence.

it took you a while to speak up again, your voice raspy and groggy from all the crying, screaming and the no verbal communication you lacked for weeks

“what didn’t happen, kat. I cut it quits with Colby in hopes he’d finally let me know that he wanted me more than just a fuck. But then again.. he proved me wrong” you said while sitting up

your hair all tangled and greasy, you rubbed your eyes and your face from frustration

“we had a argument and he basically told me I’m delusional and that he’ll never be with me, I was just a fun fuck for him.. nothing more”

“what the fuck? That’s such a douchebag move!, you know what fuck him, there are other guys out there who will love you and will enjoy fucking you with love instead of lust!”

you laugh at her efforts of trying to cheer you up, her positive energy brought some joy and comfort that encouraged you to get out of bed.

“Thanks kat, your definitely cheered me up, I should probably clean my house” “oh! Don’t worry, I cleaned it up for you,just not your bathroom”

“Awh kat you didn’t have to! Thank you so much”

you started to clean your room with the help of kat, you blasted some of your favorite hype music, city girls being on there

as you finished your room and bathroom, kat spoke up

“omg ! Y/n I just remembered one of the guys is having a party ! We’re all going !! Let’s go!!”

you felt good to deny her offer, “sure ! Why not”

“oh. em. gee !!”

-; ✧˖*°࿐

you and kat had finished up the house, and she left to get ready, you got in the shower right after she left. You took a very long hot shower, scrubbed and shaved all over leaving you smooth and clean.

picking the most sluttiest, breathtaking outfit, that insinuated your natural curves and plump features. You chose this specific outfit because you knew that’s the outfit that had Colby on his knees eating you out for the first time. And this would make him regret not having you.

you did your make up, creating a gothic sort of look, a baddie, too high for males to reach.

so satisfied with your look, you finished in time where the party just started

8:47 pm

you arrive to the party, cars filled the drive way and both sides of the street, music loud to be heard outside the house, people hanging outside the house.

You walked in, in hopes to find kat and the rest of your friends.

“omg hey y/n!!” “hey kat!” You guys hug and exchange sweet words on how beautiful you guys look. kat then drags you to the kitchen for a drink. You look around to see any familiar faces, you see many unknown… until you meet with that familiar face you once would give anything for

“hey Katrina” Colby semi-shouted

kat gave you a ‘omg’ look and you tried you’re best to not give up your feelings and let him see you upset. You quickly grabbed a drink from the cooler, a Jamaican me happy seagrass

“oh hey colbs, what’s up” “I was just gonna ask where Sam was” he said while staring at you, up and down.

You knew this dress still had an effect on him, the way he stared at your boobs and while remembering each hickey that was placed there.

It’d be a lie if he said he didn’t miss you (them),

“Oh yeah! he’s over there by the patio” still staring “uh.. thanks”

“he was so staring”

-; ✧˖*°࿐

you were just sipping on all the wine coolers, until you changed up to drinks mixed with hard liquor, the mixture finally got you and the music was too good to not dance to it. You were still conscious and knew what you were doing.

you went to the dance section and started dancing, moving and swaying your hips to the music. doing the white girl dance (where you move your hips and mess up your hair)

you were having a great time until someone pulled you aside. You weren’t quite sure who it was until they dragged you to a bathroom that looked like no one has used yet. It was Colby

“What the hell colby? why did you just drag me to bathroom” “because I’m wanted to talk to you” “couldn’t you have just asked… you know something like 'hey y/n can I talk to you for a sec?'”

“hey y/n can I talk to you for a sec?”

you give him a glare, “okay what”

“I can’t stand at how insanely attractive you look out there dancing”

“thanks… is that all? .. so I can go”

he looked hesitant, scared; if he should just get over with it.

what if it comes out wrong? or if you finally got over him?

He was scared because you truly were the best thing that happened to him and he was an idiot to let that go. He realized he needs you in his life, you are the one true person to get him to get out of bed everyday.

“uh Colby?” You waved a hand over his face to get him back to reality

“Look y/n I don’t know how to use words correctly, clearly… but what I’m trying to say to you is true and it’s coming from the depths of my heart”

you were still puzzled on what he is trying to refer to but you hoped it would involve him finally confessing his feelings to you

“colbs it’s okay”

that nickname.. that nickname always put him in a trance when you say it.

Colby took a deep breath and proceeded to look at you with his icy blue eyes

“y/n I should’ve never let you walk out that night… I wanted to chase after you but I was too much of a coward to go. Y/n you mean everythi- no you are everything to me”

he paused

you were shocked by his words.. trying to come up with something to say quickly before the moment left

“and I- I love you… more then you know. please y/n..”

he grabbed your hands and made you look at him. You were still trying to find words because you felt the same way, you were happy he finally was able to tell you the words you wanted to hear for so long…

“Colby…”

he waited with pleading eyes, finally being able to touch you after what felt like an eternity, but something in your eyes said something else.

“please y/n”

why can’t you say yes? What is holding you from saying yes?! You thought it would be easier now that it was out in the open, but it’s not and it’s hurting you because now you can’t find the words.

“i don’t know what to say”

“say yes…”

your lip trembled, eyes felt watery from the salted tears that were dreading to come out

“but I’m scared… I’m scared to try”

“me too but together we can figure it out, we will work it out because I believe in us. Please y/n I’m begging… let’s try it together”

his words were just the right words to feel at ease, you were scared but if being scared with Colby meant that you would finally be with him. So be it

“okay… let’s try… together”

-; ✧˖*°࿐

#colby x reader #sam and colby #smut #colby brock #colby brock x reader #sam golbach #angst #fluff #Colby angst #x reader #Colby and Sam

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friend-of-a-cat · 1 month

Text

So... I'm doing research for a piece of creative non-fiction (a personal essay) I'm writing for one of my uni assignments about the fact that I'm asexual and demiromantic and think that we, as a wider society, have gotten the concepts of love and attraction all wrong, and I've been researching more into the split attraction model because, well, I see it as something that's important and relevant, and this came up in my Google search:

The initial red flag of this article is the fact that it's on BetterHelp. I didn't see this at first, and did a double take.

Anyway, the first thing I would like to ask is: what are these 'cons'? As far as I'm concerned, there are none. I understand that, for many people, romantic and sexual attraction are intrinsically linked, but, for many, they're not, and the split attraction model existing doesn't harm the former - it helps the latter. The latter includes people who are on the asexual and/or aromantic spectrums, as well as people who are, for example, heteromantic and bisexual, panromantic and homosexual, biromantic and heterosexual, etc. - basically anyone whose experiences differ between their romantic and sexual attraction.

I do find it a bit annoying that, when many people talk about both of these kinds of attraction, they lump them into one 'label', which is mostly [something]sexual (e.g. heterosexual, homosexual, etc.). But, for them, the two are linked, so referring to themselves as [something]sexual to cover both seems fine and dandy. Which... it is. However, I find it wild that people don't realise that, despite the fact that the two may seem linked to them, they are actually two different experiences. People who are both alloromantic and allosexual should be able to see this, right? They can think someone is sexually attractive yet not be romantically attracted to or want to date them. That is a thing that can happen.

Anyway, I decided to read through the article. It isn't bad, per se - much of the information is useful, and it seemed to be quite positive. Until I got to the 'cons':

Now, I'm not really into the discourse surrounding the split attraction model - in fact, I didn't realise there was discourse surrounding it. This is because I tend to, either accidently or on purpose, avoid discourse in general. But... 'oversexualisation'? In what context? If anything, not using the split attraction model would be considered 'oversexualisation' (even though I don't think that that is, either - I honestly don't know why this word has been brought up here) due to the fact that many people focus on sexual attraction over any kind of attraction and use it to cover romantic attraction, too, when they talk about it. I genuinely have no idea what they are referring to here.

In regard to the second point: what? Attraction is complex. That's the whole thing. The split attraction model makes it less complex for many people. It allows people to figure out who they are and have the terminology to be able to voice it. Attraction is a spectrum and so is gender. Of course both of them are going to be complex. Society made both of them rigid in the first place, so breaking out of those rigidities is going to be confusing for everyone. The split attraction model helps people understand themselves, and I would like to think it helps them understand others. Everyone benefits.

I don't know if I can speak much on the third point, as I'm not familiar with the discourse, as I previously mentioned, and don't really know what it entails. Though, in saying this... what do they mean? When has asexuality - or aromanticism, for that matter - ever been prioritised over other queer identities? There's a severe lack of discussion and education surrounding both of them. That's just a fact. People who are asexual and/or aromantic are oftentimes even shunned by the wider queer community they are a part of. I don't really have much more to add on this point because I'm so confused by it. By the way, this article barely talks about aromanticism, despite the fact that it's an important part of this model, too.

The last point is just a rehash of the second point. If I was told about any of this stuff growing up, I would have realised I was ace and demiromantic from the start. Instead, I realised I was ace a few years ago after watching Jaiden Animations' video about the fact that she's aroace (I don't want to use the term 'coming out' here because, frankly, I hate it - I'll save that rant for another time). I only realised I was demiromantic in the past month after... realising that people getting romantic crushes on and/or falling in love with someone when they barely know them is actually a thing that happens and isn't fake. These two terms fit me best at the moment, and explain everything. If I had've known these terms as a teenager, that would have been great. The split attraction model helped me so much in breaking down myself and my identity, and offered me the foundation I needed to ask myself questions. Yeah, attraction and gender are confusing - I said it before, and I'll say it again. But why would you cast something so helpful aside? That will only hinder people - both those who are struggling with their own identity and those who are trying to understand the identities of others. Education surrounding the complexities and spectrums of attraction and gender are so important, and this model will help people teach other people about attraction.

I also read a bunch of hate comments, as one does whenever they go on Reddit or Twitter or literally any social media platform ever, regarding the split attraction model. This didn't surprise me. These specific people seem to hate this model because... well, I don't really know. They were mostly spewing aphobia. I don't think a single one had a constructive point. Also, most of the search results for 'split attraction model' on Google are actually critiques of it, or articles talking about critiques of it and being on the fence. Come on, people. Do better.

Anyway, the split attraction model is important. Education is important. Allowing people to figure out who they are and express it is important. This should all go without saying.

That is all.

#my ramblings #my writing #i want this out there somewhere so i'm actually tagging multiple things for once in my life #asexual #aromantic #aroace #ace #aro #lgbtqia+#split attraction #split attraction model #uhhhhhh #i don't know what else to tag #if you've read this far... hi #edited because some of the sentences didn't flow as well as i wanted them to lmao

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thatdogmagic · 1 year

Text

Remember this smug as hell post?

Well, keep it in mind.

I'm going to give some people here the benefit of the doubt and go into this post with the assumption that they genuinely don't know how fucking awful the Tumblr """"porn filters"""" are for images deemed - or reported by users as - 'NSFW.'

This is a rehash of everything I wrote out before, but it's going over all of it in one big post, because this issue with community labels moves well beyond debates over what is and isn't NSFW. There are doublestandards within doublestandards, and no way at all for artists and creators to know for sure if their post is going to get blacklisted.

We're not merely talking about the fact that these filters exist. We're talking about the fact that they are wildly inconsistent, and that reported images aren't seen initially by a person so much as an extremely stupid algorithm. That's why there's the option to say 'this ruling was made in error.'

There are literally no set guidelines for what qualifies as NSFW, and what doesn't, when it comes to nudity, and to what characters those guidelines actually apply. Staff rulings do not match up to one another. They legitimately do not make sense. You cannot divine how a ruling is going to end up, and it is infuriating that staff is jerking us around like this when the platform very clearly wanted artists like us back.

Not only that, they were, yes: that fucking smug about it. In case you forgot, that 'cheater' picture is talking about people who fled the NSFW ban specifically.

Examples follow:

Both of these images were caught by the filters, and then appealed. The first one was (visibly, as you can see) downgraded to Everyone, in spite of the character showing more secondary sex characteristics than the first (breast, visible nipple).

Similarly, a male character showing a pube fluff was left alone, even in spite of being cited in my appeal on the second image.

Last, there is, as noted, this readily available image of Felicia, that you can find by searching 'darkstalkers Felicia' on the search bar. Did people forget that she's bottomless, and those aren't panties?

Using fluff to cover junk is an age-old trick for characters like this. And it clearly isn't a problem with the male character.

Further, you can go through just about any archive and see a ton of images that were not subject to community labels, many of which are much more racy, and much more legitimately "NSFW."

So, yes, beyond the disgust of Tumblr staff treating any body like mine as filthy and inherently sexual in nature, this is also about a system that is arbitrary, penalizes artists for no good reason, and has deeply opaque standards. You never know when a piece of yours is going to run afoul of a bot, or what a staff ruling will ultimately be, or why the ruling is there in the first place.

And that's bullshit. If you think it's anything other than bullshit, you're being a contrarian ass. Especially since a forced label absolutely WILL kill your visibility, where compared to implementing the label yourself. It is punitive, it is punishing, and I will say again: it is completely unnecessary to jerk us around like this when the platform very clearly wanted us back.

And now that we are, we're back to being treated like garbage, constantly having to guess what the rules actually mean, how they apply, and to which sorts of bodies they apply, all while watching our viewcounts on contested posts eat ten kinds of shit.

tl;dr, do not talk to me about 'following rules' when the rules are so ill-defined as to be quite literally useless, to me, and to every other artist on this website.

#tumblr #community labels #content filters #artists on tumblr

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eds6ngel · 4 months

Text

✮⋆｡°✩⋆˙ a christmas miracle

a 'when i kissed the teacher' spinoff.

summary: you and steve were in a weird situation. you weren't actively trying to get pregnant, but you weren't exactly being safe either. so, how will steve react when he opens his final christmas present?

warnings: dad!steve. mom!reader. fem!reader. afab!reader. 90s!au. mentions and allusions to sex. mentions of pregnancy. pet names. kissing. tons of crying. alena being too young to understand pregnancy (kinda cute tho). alena being a cutie pie as always. some worries over steve's reaction. but mostly fluff and comfort!! [1.9k].

author's note: hi everyone!! i am back!! my first semester of uni is finally over, so i can get back to fic writing a little more! i couldn't neglect my happy family like this, so i've tackled a pregnancy fic! i've never been pregnant, but i do wish to be in my life, so all of my research has been for my own benefit and utilised in this fic. if i'm inaccurate in any parts, please let me know for the benefit of the readers and myself!! ♡

It was hard not announcing the news to Steve. Having to attend your first scan without him was heartbreaking, but the look upon the nurse’s face after you told her you were going to wrap up the ultrasound photo, along with a card saying “Merry Christmas Daddy” and a pair of small, cream, woolen socks, just confirmed your decision was the right one.

You and Steve were in a sort of weird situation. You had stopped using protection, but weren’t in a position were you were actively trying to get pregnant. You agreed that any time from now was an okay time for the two of you to have a child, but also weren’t bothered if the pregnancy tests came back negative.

But, a little Christmas miracle decided to form inside of you, the test showing two lines on December 11th, 1999.

Steve and Alena had gone grocery shopping for an hour, the perfect opportunity for you to wrap Steve’s gift.

Rolling out the wrapping paper, you placed a grey, fluffy blanket in the centre, before laying on top the Christmas card which read:

Hi Daddy.

I’m six weeks old today!

I can’t wait to meet you soon! I’m planning to enter the world on August 20th, 2000.

My mom is keeping me very safe right now as I grow, but I’ll still be listening out for you from inside my home.

See you in nine months.

Love, your future child <3

And as you were about to place the ultrasound photo next to the cream baby socks you previous put underneath the card, your eyes started welling with tears once more.

Was it the hormones? Maybe. But, something in you felt this was all natural. You were growing a human life inside of you, one that has half of your DNA and the other half the love of your life’s. That was something to bask in the intense emotion of.

With everything laid out neatly, you reached over for the sellotape, folding over the edges and carefully sticking them in place.

Wrapping the gift in a pretty cream bow, matching the socks inside, and adding a label reading “To my darling Stevie,” you added it to the pile of increasing gifts in the corner of yours and Steve’s bedroom.

Now, just a week to go until he gets his surprise.

You cradle your stomach, despite the size not increasing at all yet, and whisper to your unborn child “A week and he’ll know, my love. Your beautiful existence will be known.”

“Mom! Dad! Wake up! Wake up!”

You are awoken by the sound of your bouncing ten-year-old, aggressively rocking your fiancé as he groans loudly, his eyes adjusting to the light peaking through the window.

“Mornin’ pumpkin,” he murmurs, you opening up one eye as Alena’s full set of brand-new adult teeth smile right at you.

“And what are you doing up so early, missy?” you ask, the clock on the bedside table next to Steve shining a bright 6:00 in the morning, illuminating the room in a red glow.

“Mom” she drags out, rolling her eyes playfully, “You know what day it is!”

You tap your chin lightly, playing along with the joke, “Hmm… I feel as if I may need a reminder.”

“It’s Christmas Mom! And I may or may not have seen all the presents you left underneath the tree…” her vocal pitch increases, looking away in a guilty look as Steve reaches up and pulls her down into his body, the girl screaming as he ruffles her hair.

“Did someone be naughty and peak underneath the tree?” he grits through his teeth, Alena shouting in a reply, “I didn’t mean to, I promise! I saw it on the way to your room!”

You begin to tickle her sides as Steve holds her in place against his chest, making the girl scream in delight loudly, “Is someone now on Santa’s naughty list?”

“Mom…” she pouts her lips, a grumpy expression adorning her face as you sigh sadly, “I know sweet cheeks, you don’t believe in him anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

You hold out your arms as you wrap her in a warm hug, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I knew you would realise eventually. You’re getting too old!”

She gasps and looks into your eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, “I am not old! You and Dad are old.”

You start giggling in shock as Steve just opens his mouth wide, “You better watch yourself, pumpkin.”

“Yeah,” you hold up a finger in warning, before pointing it over to Steve, “Dad doesn’t like being reminded he’s in his mid-thirties.”

And now it is Steve’s turn to attack you, but instead with aggressive kisses, littering them up your neck and across your face lightly, Alena now old enough to understand the playful love between the two of you. “You’re almost thirty as well, you know.”

“Two more years to go, babe. I’m still in my prime development decade,” you smirk at him.

And it wasn’t just you who was developing.

A loud gasp can be heard along with the shredding of paper as Alena holds up her latest gift, “You actually got me it?”

For such a small gadget, the Barbie Digital Camera cost you $70, the most expensive gift yet, but maybe not the one which will cause the biggest reaction.

“Of course I did! It’s the one thing you kept pointing at in the magazine!”

She giggles with a bright smile, “Thank you! Thank you!”

She launches herself at you, the motherly instinct in you clutching onto your stomach to protect your unborn child, hoping Steve didn’t notice the movement. The surprise would be known in the next half an hour.

“And after you’ve taken your photos, we can connect it to Dad’s computer and see it come to life! How cool is that?”

“Can I take it to school?” she asks, clutching the box in her hands.

“I assume you can! But, just ask Mrs. Critchley before you take it in, okay?”

“Okay!” she smiles, plopping herself back down on the carpet to open the rest of her gifts.

Your hands began to sweat. Alena was all done opening her presents, patiently waiting for you and Steve to unwrap yours.

Steve let you attend to your gifts first. Everything from a brand-new necklace designed with a rose quartz, matching your engagement ring, to the latest Nokia phone, you were thankful for everything he had bought you, praising him with many gentle kisses and warm hugs.

Now, it was Steve’s turn. You specifically told him to leave one present until last, leading him to give you an eyebrow raise and a shrug before simply agreeing, used to your weirdness by now. You got him everything from a new cologne to a new pair of Nike shoes, the soles of his old pair wearing thin from how much he was working over the Christmas holidays.

But, after one final kiss, it was finally time.

“Can I open this now?” Steve jokes, the nerves deeply settling in your stomach. You don’t even know why you were worried, you had stopped using protection in mutual agreement, knowing kids could be a possibility from that result. There was just a voice in your head trying to convince you an awful reaction would occur.

“Uh, yeah… Yeah, you can.”

“Hey,” he puts an arm on your shoulder, “Why are you so nervous?”

You lightly chuckle, “You’ll find out once you open the gift.”

Even after all of these years, Steve still wasn’t the smartest. Verbal cues were not his strong suit, but my God could he read body language like a champ.

He gives you a confused look before unwrapping the cream-coloured bow, delicately tearing apart the paper as his eyes immediately notice the ultrasound scan.

He may be oblivious, but he isn’t that oblivious. He has one very similar in his bedside table drawer of his sweet ten-year-old daughter sat next to him.

The tears form at his eyes before he can even recognise them. Small sniffles enter the atmosphere as his hazel eyes make contact with you, “Are you serious?”

And the tears follow suit for you, nodding frantically as he leans across the floor to collect you in his arms, crying into your shoulder.

“How far along?” he mumbles into your shoulder, tears dripping onto the red fabric of your dress.

“Read the card and you’ll find out.”

Steve was too drawn into the ultrasound scan to even notice the card you had gotten him. Releasing from the hug, he keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, picking up the card and carefully opening it, reading the words you had written, the tears increasing as he noticed it was from the perspective of his baby.

“Wha— How? When did you get this done?” he stutters out, still in complete shock of the entire moment.

“Pregnancy test has been in the bathroom trash can for two weeks. I was scared you were going to notice it for a while, but then I remembered it’s you, and you don’t notice anything,” you giggle, Steve not even bothered by the joking insult, too caught up in his own emotions, “And two Thursday’s ago, I didn’t go to work. Went to the hospital and got the scan, and just hung around Starcourt until the time I would normally come home.”

“Well, you fooled me,” he chuckles, leaning in for a kiss which you gladly accept, cupping his cheeks as you smile into it.

“I love you so much, beautiful girl. And I love the baby who is growing inside of you. You’re so strong. Your body is so strong. I just— I can’t wait. I can’t wait to meet them.”

His hand had migrated down to your stomach, gently cradling the unborn child inside of you.

Alena had finally looked up from her Etch-a-Sketch, noticing the tears falling down both yours and Steve’s cheeks, your hands holding tightly onto each side of his head as your foreheads were leant against each other, kneeling on the soft carpet of the living room.

“Mom? Dad? Why are you crying?”

Steve turns around to face his daughter, you looking softly into her eyes, “Because Mom is having a baby, sweetie.”

Steve passes her the ultrasound scan, her face scrunching up in confusion as she points at it, “Why is it just a black blob?”

Steve begins laughing as his head falls onto your shoulder, sweetly rubbing up and down the sides of your waist.

“Because when a baby is first made, it starts out as a black blob and then grows into the full size baby we all know and love,” you explain gently to her.

“Hmm…” she takes in, before asking her next question, “But how did it get there?”

Your eyes widen as Steve’s hands stop on your waist, refusing to lift his head and look at his daughter.

You smile through the awkwardness, remembering that her sex education lessons would start in a matter of months, “You’ll find out soon, baby.”

thank you ever so much for reading!! do you guys want any more pregnancy related fics? i really want to do some research into post-partum for myself, so do you want me to skip straight to that, or tackle other things like morning sickness, gender reveal, baby shower, stuff like that? feel free to let me know!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic @tlclick73 @steveshairspray @superlegend216

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badchoicesworld · 9 months

Note

heard you were desperate for requests!

im oriented aroace and i'd LOVE to see a hobie x spider!reader where they're not dating or putting labels on it, they're just in a mutually loving and supportive symbiosis. everyone in the spiderverse keeps trying to figure out if they're in a relationship or not and are incredibly confused that hobie will straight up kiss the reader's neck and they'll give him massages at work but they refuse to say they're a couple

where you and hobie have the most loving connection, but don’t label it

hobie brown x gn!reader

u just like me fr i miss when u could platonically kiss people, was that just me ?

warnings: none

pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader

requests: OPEN

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

so you two have a completely unlabelled dynamic that benefits the both of you w the untethered love you can just casually give out without really giving a second thought

there might be something romantic, there might not be- you’re not naming it anything at all

it’s completely natural for the two of you to hold hands, kiss, comfort each other and generally just be there whenever the two of you need it

you’re not afraid of PDA, especially if hobie’s involved. you physically cannot shy away from PDA, the man simply won’t allow it

naturally, speculation will start over your guys’ relationship and the exact details

are you dating ? is it something less or more ? is this a prank ?

but those questions remain unanswered

hobie will either shrug or say something along the lines of “we’re just there for each other,” or if he’s feeling a bit snarky he’s like “wouldn’t you like to know” but that fucker knows what you’ve got going on don’t got a label at all, just the way he likes it

again, you two will straight up refuse to confirm or deny questions about your relationship- it’s no one’s business but yours and you both are completely comfortable remaining unlabelled but loving as fuck

cause why do we even need to label that at all ? stop limiting love u fucks

hobie views it as people tryna dictate your relationship sometimes and he doesn’t give it the time of day

actual benefits of this dynamic ? spontaneous affection whenever you need it, words of affirmation.. hobie’s capable of being real loving i think

almost always has an arm around you, especially around spider society

within HQ there’s always an arm around your shoulder or maybe you guys hold hands, he likes to playfully tug you along with him randomly while you hold hands

like you could literally just be following a group together and for some reason he’s pulling at your hand as if you’re walking the wrong way, y’know he’s smiling too while he does it

you two are probably way too comfortable around HQ, too

especially since you guys don’t really label your relationship as anything, so you don’t see why you should hide certain actions if they’re not inherently romantic, y’know ?

spider-people can literally find hobie chilling in ur lap whenever in headquarters while he fixes his makeup or you fix it for him

you can swear on ur life it’s just a more practical way to do it, or that you’re just lending a hand

dozens of spider-people are so sure you’re dating, it’s split evenly down the middle

the other half think ur gross and need to get a room

there’s probably one or two hobie x you fanatics out there (pav, it’s pav. probably peter b too, loves young love)

you guys don’t help your case when you get back from missions and hobie’s massaging your hands from swinging all day- if you’ve got organic webs he’s working away the kinks in your wrists too

hopefully he’s wearing a mask to hide that concentrated, idle look he’s wearing that’s somehow charming

the speculators are even further convinced when you’re eating one of those miguel burgers in the cafeteria and hobie appears from literally nowhere, bends down to kiss you on the side of your neck while he snatches some of your food and then walks off

daylight robbery

now everyone at the table is perplexed, including you when you realise he just stole ur fucking chips

in meetings you two are fucking insufferable i just know it

if you’re more sensible, you can probably distract hobie by letting him draw on your hands during the meeting

if not, you two always sit together and are so bothersome (ily)

plz stop snickering in the back miguel cant take this stress in his old age

naps around spider-society are top tier

make like a web hammock suspended from anything and you two are sharing it, out like a light

hobie loves it cause he’s simultaneously shitting on the establishment while he gets to bask in the comfort you two share

probably a community game about the locations people have found you guys slacking

loves it when he can come back from a mission and kiss you casually before telling you all about it, pulling you away from everyone else with an arm around your neck

you are not spared from his typical hobie-ness however, still preaches anarchism to you on the daily while saying the most outrageous punk statements like you guys don’t share a bed every other day

he just incorporated compliments into it somehow to be supportive

“you’d make a great anarchist” thanks man

miguel will claim you guys cause a hostile work environment and all hobie’s gotta say is “i don’t believe in hostile work environments” before walking off w you to go set a miguel burger on fire or smthn

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

if hobie drew on me i’m getting that shit tattooed i’m just sayin

#across the spiderverse #headcanon #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie brown #atsv hobie #imagine #oneshot #ask #gender netural #gender neutral reader #gn reader #hobie x y/n #hobie x reader #hobie x gn!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider punk

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in1-nutshell · 4 months

Note

I'm gonna try again tfp team prime with a bot Buddy who has a concerning interest in poison. 😅 And now i'm beginning to annoy myself

Hello there! Don't worry about asking again, I'm just not well versed in some things that's all. Still glad you asked though! Since you did not specify which characters you wanted I will be selecting them at random.

Hope you enjoy!

Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Ultra Magnus reaction to Bot Buddy who is fascinated with poison

SFW, Platonic, talks of poison, Cybertronian/ Bot reader

TFP

Ratchet

Ratchet has known Buddy for a while. As in before the war started, before their interest in poison.

Buddy used to be a good doctor that helped him from time to time in his makeshift clinic. They were always experimenting with new forms of medicine to treat patients. It could have been medicine for a mesh wound to try to find a cure for the rust plague.

It was during the war that they had found an interest in poison.

Ratchet wouldn't see Buddy again until they crash landed on Earth. To say it was a pleasant surprise was an understatement.

"Ratchet? Ratchet is that you my friend?"--Buddy

"Buddy?! By the Allspark it's great to see you online."--Ratchet

"Likewise my friend. Now tell me, what do you need?"--Buddy

"Any help at this point would be nice, truly. "--Ratchet

"Well it's a good thing I brought my kits! Don't worry this war will be over in no time now!"--Buddy

"You still have the kits?! I thought they were destroyed in your lab back on Kimia."--Ratchet

"Kits? Ratchet what are they talking about?"--Bulkhead

"An explanation would be nice."--Arcee

"Buddy has a gift for medicine... And other things..."--Ratchet

"Oh Ratchet you make it sound like a bad thing. To answer your question, my dear Wrecker, I specialize in poisons and venoms of all sorts! Pretty exciting don't you think?"--Buddy

"... I'm just going to be over there..."--Bulkhead

While Ratchet isn't exactly thrilled with the idea of Buddy handling any type of poison, he has to admit that they do get the job done.

Buddy is often seen in their little corner of the base or near the consoles discussing things with Ratchet.

Wheeljack

Wheeljack knew Buddy from the Wrecker's. Like him, Buddy was a former scientist before the war started.

The two of them went together faster than a house on fire. One was never too far from the other, and if they were something was going to explode.

There was a huge explosion the day that the two had gotten separated.

Years later Buddy found a strange signal coming from a planet called Earth. They decided to go and check it out. Who knows if they would find more poisonous things for their kits?

They didn't find any poison yet, but they did find Ultra Magnus, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack.

"Wheeljack! Bulkhead! Ultra Magnus sir!"--Buddy

"Buddy?--Bulkhead

"Buddy?!"--Magnus

"Buddy!"--Wheeljack

"Wait how do we know if it's the real Buddy? We don't want another Makeshift problem."--Bulkhead

"Makeshift?"--Buddy

"True soldier. From what you told me we need to be on high alert in case this is a Decepticon."--Magnus

"Decepticon?"--Buddy

"It's Buddy I can tell."--Wheeljack

"How?"--Bulkhead

"There is only one bot crazy enough to carry that many kits labeled POISON like it's a collection of rocks."--Wheeljack

"Hey!"--Buddy

After the formal introductions are made, and Buddy gets to know Team Prime, they are once again attached to Wheeljack.

Wheeljack doesn't mind Buddy's fascination with poison. In fact he encourages it. The more Cons they can the better.

Ultra Magnus

Ultra Magnus knew Buddy as a new recruit for the Wrecker's medic.

How in the world they became friends?

Magnus doesn't have the right answer for that. It just happened.

He is well aware of Buddy's poisonous hobbies but he can't say they aren't benefiting from it. There have been multiple times where the Wrecker's would have been killed if not for Buddy's experiments.

Buddy had gotten separated from the Wrecker's during a rather gruesome battle. Magnus pushes his grief deep down so he could focus on leading his group.

Buddy gets reunited with Magnus when they literally crash into the IronWill.

"Identify yourself!"--Magnus

"Magnus? Ultra Magnus! I can tell how good it is to hear your voice my friend!"--Buddy

"Buddy?"--Magnus

"Sure is Commander! Might I say it again, it's good to hear your voice."--Buddy

Magnus gives Buddy the introduction to the team. He makes sure that Buddy doesn't feel isolated or left out. He knows how that feels.

It takes more time for the team to get used to the fact that Magnus has a best friend than Buddy playing around with poison.

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #tfp x platonic reader #tfp x reader #tfp ultra magnus #tfp wheeljack #tfp ratchet #bot buddy

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spadesolace · 7 months

Text

feel special - im nayeon x producer! reader

synopsis: in the midst of thousands of faces trying their best to capture a certain bunny’s heart. you were the only person who captured her attention through your skills in music, to capturing her heart with your very own heart.

spade speaks: nayeon is actually my ult bias (along with yeji) who made me stick around and listen to k-pop. on top of this, feel special being my fave album for various reasons. happy very belated birthday to my fave album and to my fave bunny!

if there was one thing you know about nayeon, is that she prefers the quiet and serene moments of being alone, watching some show on tv, and having kookeu by her side.

nothing beats that.

yes, she loves her members, they’re her second family but living with 8 girls for 3 years then moving to a bigger place with 2 roommates, she still chose to stay in her room. then you arrived.

you were no one in the midst of hundreds of producers wanting to work with the group, to say the least, maybe it was fate that made you two meet. jyp did in fact introduce you two, from working with their twicetagram album to becoming a constant producer in various b-sides.

im nayeon, who’s voice is as sweet as honey, one to bring you comfort, and overall just bring a smile to your face.

before her, solitude was in your studio with your dog who would keep you company as you vibe to music you’ve produced. your place was never quiet, there was always some sort of music playing in the background, and twice became a constant to your playlist. a part of you immediately would distinguish nayeon’s voice in every twice song, maybe it was because she’s your bias.

a little part of you wanted to get to know her, not just as colleagues, but as friends.

it started small, from bringing her drinks so as to not make her throat dry from singing for hours. visiting her after practice just to hear her talk about her day, from overall just being there.

it didn’t take long for you to ask nayeon out on a proper date, similar to the ones you’ve been doing for months. this time, there was an actual label to it, not simply a hang out to talk about each other’s day. it wasn’t much, you just invited her to your place where you cooked dinner, hearing her talk about digesting oil as there are benefits to it, having kookeu and your dog play around as you two played board games to kart rider.

“no, i don’t see any benefits in consuming oil aside from getting sick.” the debate was still on-going as the game went on, you were leading with nayeon barely catching up.

“it’s tasty and consuming oily food would get you sick.”

“eating straight up oil is worse, nabong.” who knew you would fall for this girl who eats oil.

your date was a complete success, having to cuddle with nayeon as you watched carol. bringing her back to the dorm was bittersweet, a part of you didn’t want it to end but clearly, nayeon had different plans. watching her about to leave your car, she looked back at you, a smile evident on her face.

“i’ll plan the next one.” a kiss on the cheek was all it took just for her to have your heart.

one date turned to two, then three, then it became weekly.

there was not a time that you two weren’t together. her free time was spent in your studio as you two made songs together that the world would not get the chance to hear. having the chance to hear you sing behind closed doors, persuading you into posting it on your socials. it didn’t take long for that snippet to go viral.

every love story had to start somewhere and yours was about work. from listening to her sing her parts in sweet talker, helping with their japanese album, do the remix for their concert, and overall just admire the girl.

at the very same studio you two first met; you had finally called nayeon yours.

nayeon’s idea of solitude changed from the day she met you. it was no longer being stuck in her room scrolling on her phone or watching a random series or movie on the tv with kookeu. it was now with you, in the comfort of your home where she could be alone… with you.

when their tour started, slowly your time together faded. nayeon was busy and all you could do was consider the situation, the girls are still at their peak and you were merely there to help them out. she still used her free time with you when she’s back in korea, talking about the tour and how fun it was but she wished you could be there to watch them. you did, yet it was only the first day at seoul. so, when their manager had given you a ticket to their manila concert, you immediately took it, letting their management know that you wanted to surprise the girls.

when your girlfriend was busy doing the concert, you watched with keen eyes on how the group you’ve adored since debut to working with them and now, dating the girl of your dreams, felt too surreal. too surreal.

that’s where your thoughts left you with, would nayeon get tired of you? would she pick her career over you? until when will she settle for you and realize she deserves better?

ironic how you’re watching her perform with the loudest crowd there is to date, and you’re overthinking your relationship with who you consider the girl of your dreams… you fear waking up from this dream and return to reality with nothing but disappointment waiting for you. but this is reality. she’s your girlfriend, nayeon is and will be proud to call you hers as you call her mine.

“y/n? you ok?” their manager looked at you as the show finally ended, watching the crowd leave the venue. everything feels gloomy, tiring, anxious would be the better option to describe your state.

“yeah, just tired.” it may have been unnoticed by the manager that you were lying but clearly one nayeon saw you with the same smile you give her but with eyes calling for help, she knows something is wrong.

nothing goes past nayeon, especially when it comes to you. the thing is that she knows not to ask until you feel ready… but whatever is running in your mind makes her worried. you’re one for open communication, she knows this as your colleague and girlfriend, not once did you not voice out your concern for anything. what’s stopping you now?

maybe it was the fact that your best friend, mina, is telling you how much she needs to keep going. she has to, as she would say. you knew of her state for quite a while now, but there was something after their manila concert that just made her break. you were at the manila concert, the way mina was struggling, oh you can never tell your best friend what you’ve been thinking when she needs you the most.

nayeon watched your interaction with mina, she knows well enough how deep your friendship goes but she can’t merely just watch how you were also distancing yourself from her. not when there is clearly something going on inside your mind that you can’t seem to hide anymore. that’s where it started, the sad songs, how you’re writing ballads rather than your usual upbeat music that most of their songs are about. even when mina is already in hiatus and planning to go home for a bit as to recharge and be under the care of her family. you were lost, gone, mind running with the possibility of nayeon leaving you as if you’re not doing it yourself.

that was a toxic defense mechanism, one that you’ve done multiple times. if it weren’t for jihyo’s stubbornness, you would have continued avoiding nayeon.

in your studio where everything is normally organized was a complete mess, jihyo took notice of your eyebags, the amount of takeout containers. the sleep deprivation and the lack of sunlight was getting to you. phone on do not disturb as you avoid replying to nayeon or just sending cold replies, everything is out of place. slowly, jihyo took care of you, cleaning the studio while you finally slept. that was where she took notice of the little things, how you and mina had been talking, keeping your best friend company who was back in her home country, while she was clueless to how you were overanalyzing your relationship with nayeon and how mina being on break took a mental toll on you.

“you can’t keep running away from her. not when she also needs you right now.” jihyo has always been right, the girls have had quite a hard hit when mina went on hiatus, some of which were scared of what the future holds and nayeon was handling it quite poorly.

“jihyo, she’ll realize that she deserves someone better, and it’s not gonna be me.”

“she needs you, y/n. you’re the best thing that has happened to her and you can’t just decide on what’s better for her when you haven’t told her what you’re going through.”

while jihyo took care of you, slowly making sure you were properly talking to nayeon as she set up a schedule with your personal psychiatrist. slowly you were back on track. therapy was an eye opener, how you’re the one ruining the relationship for not knowing how to communicate your concerns because you deem it to be childish.

if it weren’t for jihyo, things would have been different. you wouldn’t be in front of nayeon’s dorm holding a bouquet and a bag filled with her comfort food. you wouldn’t be crying in front of your girlfriend as you told her every single thought. you wouldn’t be able to call her yours as she gave you reassurance that you’re the best thing that has ever happened to her.

“you’re so dumb thinking that i’ll leave you.”

“i know, it’s just that- you’re literally a superstar with everyone falling for your charms, how can i not think of that?”

they say fear attracts.

in nayeon’s eyes, the idea of losing you was the last thing on her mind. that if you were gone, she’d prefer to stop being an idol and try her best to have you back. losing you is one of her biggest fears along with losing her members. when one of her greatest fears (mina going on hiatus) was close to becoming reality, she needed you. she wanted you to know that she needs you the same way that you need her. if fear would be the reason for your breakup, nayeon has every right to call you dumb; you love her yet you won’t fight for her?

solitude for you has and will always be nayeon, losing that would result in chaos, disruption of your peace. you can live without music but without nayeon in your life, without the girl who you tried to push away and yet she still stayed, it would be stupid of you to let her go.

when things have been settled, and jyp asking for your help in producing two of their b-sides, you couldn’t say no to what the message of the album was. having to perfectly encapsulate your thoughts and emotions along with the group’s own thoughts being let out. aside from the chance to work with your best friend and girlfriend; feel special holds a place in your heart.

even when the world becomes dark and you’re consumed by your thoughts, you’re reminded that nayeon is there for you, that she has the patience to understand what is happening inside your brain.

so when her birthday is a few days away, you wanted to surprise her. something that screams that i’m glad to have you in my life. and no, an engagement ring would be too early in your relationship of around 5 months. what better way than to spend the entire day or at least an hour together as she prepares for their comeback the following day.

in some world, or way, you’re back to how you first started, admiring the girls as you make a name in the industry. nayeon shines on stage and it has been like that for years. even when the pandemic hit and you could only talk virtually until things lightened up. in every song she writes, you were a part of it, and when her solo debut was on the works, one call away and you’ll produce half of it.

to nayeon, you’re every song she’s written, every song she covers, and a vital piece to her everyday life.

to you, nayeon is your solitude, baby blue love, and your everything.

“happy birthday, love.” you wave your candybong with the crowd singing happy birthday to nayeon, and in the midst of the crowd, her eyes are set only to you.

#twice scenarios #twice imagines #twice #twice x reader #twice nayeon #nayeon #twice x you #im nayeon #nayeon imagines #nayeon scenarios #nayeon x reader

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im-a-hoping-beetch · 6 months

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Many people genuinely get confused when we, native people, get uncomfortable when Katara, a native character, is reduced to a mom and her canon relationships with characters are put down in favour for a boy who lived in a society that benefitted from her oppression, antagonised her and her friends for most of the series and was even racist at times. But because he's hot and had an episode with katara, everything should be forgiven, because god forbid a native girl gets with anyone who isn't from a group of people who aided the genocide of her people. God forbid two characters who experienced genocide have a relationship and connect over this shared trauma, in favour for boy who also has mom trauma

Look, while I can understand your feelings of discomfort towards the ship, I’d still like to put certain things into perspective.

Now, I don’t really know what you meant by her being “reduced” to a mom. Do you mean that her relationship with Zuko would confine her to such a role? Which, by the way, is absolutely laughable, since one of the main reasons why so many ppl ship these two is bcz unlike every member of the gaang (aside from Suki), Zuko is the only one with who she doesn’t have to act like a surrogate mother. Katara is allowed to be angry and be vulnerable with him. All things that we rarely see her be able to do with the rest of the bunch, let alone her own brother.

Actually, one of the main appeal of the two is bcz, both have the same level of of maturity and similar way of interacting with the members of the gaang. Which is why so many ppl label the two as “parents of the group”.

But, if you’re talking about how, we zutarians usually talk abt the intricacies that come with her being a motherly person, I’ve got some news for ya. Most of us, usually, never fail to highlight how much of a tragedy, her being pushed into a role of adulthood at such a young age is. Also, on how, ironically, her canonical partner (Aang) has never really helped with that phenomenon, actually he perpetuated it even further.

Besides, wanna talk abt canon relationships being put down for a boy, well, look no further than canon itself, anon. I’m guessing that you’ve probably read this post, due to the phrasing at the beginning of your ask. One thing I specifically touched on, was how much of Katara’s existence seems to revolve around Aang, the biggest example being, the comics. In them, we do see the creators ready to strain Katara’s established relationships with the gaang (aside from her brother) in order to shove kataang down our throats. Cuz if you think abt it, Toph and Katara’s interactions are heavily reduced, let alone meaningful ones and do not even get me started on Zuko or Suki.

Yes, Zuko lived in a society that benefited from her oppression. He has antagonized her and her friends. But Zuko is also made to recognize the harm his actions have caused. Additionally, at no point is he not faced with the consequences of what he has done towards the gaang. Every single member gets to express anger or/and resentment over what he’s done in the past, Katara is no exception. Actually, she’s the one who’s given the most leeway in terms of doing so. Even for things he had no control over such as her mother’s death and the fire nation raids. However, instead of whining about how he’s not responsible for all of this taking place, something he could’ve easily done, he makes it up to her. He helps her seek justice for her mother while her canonical future boyfriend is out here reducing her righteous anger to blindsided revenge.

I don’t know what you mean by “Because He’s hot and had an episode with her, everything should be forgiven.” To me, that last part owed to make me scratch all the dandruff off my braids. Language is a powerful tool, but often than not, people don’t really know how to use it nor seem to understand the ramifications of their use. When you say “everything should be forgiven”, you are framing forgiveness as something passive, when, here, it is active. Someone does the action of forgiving Zuko, Katara does. Katara forgives him, because he earned it.

Right now, I’m assuming that you thought you were in defence of Katara, but the truth is that you are actually perpetuating an habit that many have had when it comes to the Southern Raiders. Which is to perpetually strip any agency Katara has in an episode literally centered around her character!?!

Nobody forbid anyone from anything. If people don’t feel comfortable shipping these two, so be it. However, to act as if Zuko hasn’t actively fought against the system that has led to those atrocities being done or like he hasn’t used his position of power in order to make actual change or/and retributions, is simply disingenuous.

Aang and Katara did have a relationship, but have never connected over their shared trauma. More specifically, Aang failed to connect over their shared trauma, when he should have and instead used as a way to silence hers. @sokkastyles makes a very good point about it in this post.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #zutara #anti kataang #anti bryke #anti aang #atla fandom critical #zuko #katara #pro katara #the southern raiders #anti atla comics

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nyanggk · 1 year

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR. SIM! — s.jy

PART 2 : MY SHY HUSBAND

PAIRING enhypen jake x female reader

SYNOPSIS after marrying the man of your nightmares, your husband, jake, shows you that he's actually an angel labeled with bad manners.

GENRE romance, arranged marriage, comedy

WARNING profanities, suggestive content, piercings, MDNI

wc. 5k+

— happy birthday to this pervert :)) ! I didn't have the time to write a full smut so the rest is up to yalls imaginations, hopefully you guys still find it funny.

To be wed is the practice of both hearts joining one another in a matrimonial ceremony. There, they swear in front of everyone; their families, friends, and to God. They promise to become one, to console in another, to love each through thick and thin until death do they part. But how can you surrender yourself fully when you have no such feelings for the man in front of you?

When the pastor instructs the both of you to conjoin your palms, through the white veil you wore, you watch with quiet eyes as your groom shies away from your hold. Vengeance and malice are hidden behind your irises and you almost audibly scoff.

In the background, the pastor continues to lecture the both of you about the principles of a wedding, how God should be the center of your everything. Yet your world has been taken away from you, and therefore, your center is filled with void.

"Mr. Jaeyun Jake Sim," You hear the man cloaked in white call for the boy who stood in front of you, Jake, pulling you out of your plotting thoughts.

"Do you take Miss YN to be your lawfully wedded wife in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, 'til death do you part?"

Not even a second passes, he says, "I do, father."

He wants this, wants to marry you, however, you don't. You may not be able to avoid this marriage, but you will try in every way you can to avoid him.

Jake is handsome and every bit of his physique makes him seem like the sweetest angel. Today, his hair is nicely parted and styled to perfection. He's clad in a typical yet dashing suit, the dress shirt underneath hugging his frame to the point where you can see the outline of his pecks whenever he breathes. You caught the stylists gossiping with each other a while ago, the contents being your grooms natural beauty. They were going on and on about how naturally his face glowed, and how adorable his smile is when he curled his lips upwards. Not to mention, how nice and accommodating he is. If the two of you met under different circumstances, you have no doubt that you'll be the one making the first move.

"And do you, Miss YN, take Mr. Jaeyun Jake Sim to be your lawfully wedded husband in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, til death do you part?"

I don't.

But you have no choice and so, you gulp, letting empty words fall out of your mouth. "I do."

"Now, with the power vested in me, I pronounce the both of you, husband and wife." The pastor in charge announces, and right then, cheers erupt inside the small cathedral as echoes of their claps resound all throughout. You wince when you look at your parents' smile, clapping in an excited manner as they gush to those beside them about how happy they are. Your mother even shedding a tear. However, this is all fluke, something that they had forced onto you regardless of the fact that you despised it.

You didn't think arranged marriages were still a thing in the 20th century, but your parents have proved you wrong. There's not an ounce of them that felt guilty, even when you lashed out, and told them how you don't want to be wed with a stranger just for the company's benefit. But they said it was good for you.

"Don't you see?" Your mom asks as if it's the most obvious thing, grabbing both your arms to make you face her. "Finally, your image of being a whore—"

"Yuri!" Your dad lashes out in anger as he never calls your mother anything but their pet names for each other. This case is different as she's not only making you do something that you don't want, but is calling his own daughter a slut.

You and your mother had never seen each other eye to eye when it came to your nightly agendas. Well, neither did your father, but he loved you too much to tie you down.

"Fine." She breathes out, composing herself. "A playgirl. Your image of being a playgirl can all be erased. Jake is a sweet boy. I have no doubt that you'll fall in love with him eventually."

Oh, the misogyny.

First of all, you're not a playgirl nor are you a whore. You'd prefer the term "An Anti-Romantic that Sleeps Around a lot." Yeah, that's way better.

But all your efforts to sway your parents' minds were in vain— though your dad agreed, your mother didn't, and if there was something more powerful than your father, that was his wife— as by early November, they already had the whole wedding and reception planned, and here you are now, being announced as Sim Jake's beloved wife, his last name now being attached to yours.

Fuck your mother. Fuck your dad for not stopping her. Fuck Jake for agreeing.

If he truly has a heart as pure as milk, he wouldn't have agreed, but milk goes rotten eventually, and you assume the same case has happened to Jake. Yet, the fucker still acts like he's an angel.

"You may now kiss the bride." He says, gesturing to your now husband.

Just when you thought Jake would happily lean in and kiss you, he doesn't. He shakes in his spot and bites his lip, a nervous habit you've concluded after meeting him just a few times before. He'd done the same when the two of you were introduced for the first time, when the two of you met for dinner with each other's parents, and many other occasions.

You're not going to lie, but you found this habit cute. So, you tell yourself that you're the one leaning in because you want this to be over with, not because you want to get a taste of the strawberry chapstick on his red lips.

At first, Jake's whole body becomes rigid, and you're about to pull away when he loops his arms around your waist and deepens the kiss. Now, it's your body's turn to become rigid. Nevertheless, you keep kissing him because he just tastes so good, completely disregarding the supposed fact that you hate his entire being, reasoning to yourself that you're just acting.

When the time comes to pull away, Jake watches your reaction with nervous eyes, afraid that he's overstepped his already small boundary with you. He knows you don't want this, knows that you don't have any sort of romantic feelings with him, but he can't help it.

The first time he saw you was at a club his friends dragged him to. Jake can't hold his alcohol well, and always proclaimed himself as the driver, meaning that he wasn't going to have a drink at all.

From where Jake sat, talking to a drunk Heeseung, he caught sight of you on the dance floor. He was so in awe of the charisma you showed. He knew the alcohol must've had a part in it, but that didn't matter because to Jake, you were a goddess partying within a sea of mere mortals. You were one of a kind and the spotlight was on you. At that time, Jake was having doubts if he was sane or not for how can someone be this attracted to a stranger they've never even talked to beforehand? He has no idea if it was because of the way your body moved or if it was the way your hands clumsily wrapped around his neck after he had made the daring move to approach you.

Without the alcohol, Jake had the time of his life listening to your drunken rants beside the sidewalk, and his heart started beating laps when you leaned in to rest your head against his shoulder.

"You're such a sweet guy." You slurred out, hand absentmindedly fidgeting with the loose threads of his woolen sweater. "Can I kiss you?"

Taken aback, the boy stutters on his breath, and he looks at you for confirmation. He knows you're drunk, but the determination between your eyes is so adorable, how can he possibly say no? He knows you're drunk, but giving his first kiss to you shouldn't be that bad of a crime, right?

When he timidly nods, you take the initiative, and lean in. When you do, it's like a billion butterflies suddenly fluttered their wings inside his stomach, and he coils into your touch, melting into your body.

Your lips lay against each other for a while before Jake instinctively opens his lips, not wanting to part but needing to breathe, and you take that as your queue to put your warm tongue inside his mouth. That's when Jake feels the small metal bead pierced onto your wet muscle, the piercing on your tongue rubbing against the roof of his mouth and tongue, and Jake can't help but release a small whimper into your kiss.

Jake never wanted something so bad in his life before. He was always willing to give, and put others first. Maybe, just for this time, he can be selfish, and have you.

You probably had no recollection of him, but he had every bit of you reserved in his mind. Your meeting has become a core memory, and Jake will cherish it forever. With that, he'll show you he's worth putting yourself down, and make up for what he's done. Forgive him, but he just can't continue to bear watching you sleep with random men anymore when it should be him that you come home to. You'll be safe with him and he'll treat you right. He just hopes you give him a chance despite your resentment.

Jake watches with sadness as you pull away from each other, and acts nonchalant about the whole kiss as for a moment, he thought that you enjoyed it. The priest then catches his eye and the boy thanks him for leading the ceremony of your wedding while you completely ignore everyone's existence.

It's been about a week into your marriage. Currently, the two of you are still at your honeymoon, your parents deciding to give the whole month to the two, hoping for a baby by the end of it. It's definitely not going to happen, Jake knows that much as with the way you still act cold and dismissive towards him, even Jake doubts if he can hold a civil conversation with you soon.

Though he's been trying to get close to you, it seems as if Jake still hasn't made any sort of progress. He's made sure to be extra nice and charming, accommodating to your every need, being there for you whenever you need a helping hand, but nothing is working. He doesn't want a baby with you. Well, he wants one but he's willing to wait, and if you don't want one then he'll personally make up a lie saying that he's infertile to your parents. He's never lied before, but he'll do it for you.

All Jake wants is for you to acknowledge his presence, to at least spare him a glance. He's been craving to hear your voice and he's willing to beg.

"Good morning." He greets when he sees you coming out of the room, hair tangled in a sleepy manner as you grumble out a response.

The both of you had agreed that you would have the bed all to yourself— well, you claimed it and he complied— seeing as there was no way in hell that you would sleep beside him. Jake gladly accepted the couch, not a single peep of complaint was thrown your way which saves you more time if you were to argue.

Jakes is sitting on the couch, watching a cartoon. You would've thought it was cute for a grown married man to watch children's shows if it weren't for the earful of complaints and lectures your mom threw at you in the early morning.

She knew fully that you hadn't been treating Jake like a human being. The other day, she found out through the guards that you left him to go party at the hotel's club, and when you were on the phone talking to your mother and Jake just so happened to trudge in and ask you a question, you brushed him off.

It was safe to say that your mother is the least bit pleased with your behavior, and rang your phone to death while you were happily fast asleep in dreamland. When you picked up, she continued on with her rant, effectively ruining your day even before it began, burning your eardrums off in the process.

Being the bright guy that Jake is, his cheerful mood picks up upon seeing his wife, talking to you excitedly about his plans for today as if you hadn't been the shittiest person to him for the past week. "Do you want to go out today? I was thinking we could go to the beach—"

"Sure, Jake." You answer dismissively as you pull open the fridges door. "Whatever you want."

Jake's mood deflates after hearing your lack of interest. "Oh... uhm, Okay..."

Later on, you and Jake venture out to the beach, and you watch him by the shores as you sit on a blanket, a shade put up prior by Jake. He wanted to block off the sunlight from hitting your skin, knowing full well that you hated the heat.

Now, after setting up your rest area, he runs to go and meet up with a tan man sporting stylish dreadlocks, soon finding out that he's going to be learning how to surf.

Ohh this is going to be so amusing to watch.

You watch as he keenly listens to the surfing instructor about the do's and dont's when it comes to surfing, nodding along here and there. The board he chose was a sea blue with two bold yellow stripes along the middle. Wet, his hair clings to his forehead, him having to sweep it back from time to time whenever it comes in the way of his vision.

It seemed as if their little pep talk had already come to an end as Jake readjusts his grasp onto the board before looking at you with elated eyes, a huge grin forming across his face. Right then, you notice the way the ends of his mouth curl up into adorable hooks, and you suddenly feel the random urge to trace it.

Dazed, you wave at Jake and give him a small smile. That seemed to be enough to boost his morale as he unconsciously rewards you with the most adorable look you've ever seen. It was unbelievably charming. A smile so sweet that it puts you under a trance. One where he didn't show his teeth, his mouth forming into a straight line while his cheeks bunch up, his eyebrows raising themselves up. A type of smile that made his cheeks look like soft bread, and he nudged his thumb towards the sea as if to tell you that he's heading into the water.

When Jake turns his back, you snap out, scolding yourself as you ignore the way your heart's beating.

At first, you had planned to leave while Jake is preoccupied, but now, you find yourself stuck to the same spot, looking at your husband as he loses balance on the surfboard and dives headfirst into the water for the sixth time since he went in. You tell yourself that you've stayed because his clumsiness amuses you, not because of the proud smile he throws your way at each progress he makes. He's looking at you as if he's searching for your validation each time he manages to prolong his balance on the surfboard, the eratic oceans doing nothing to help. But regardless, you reward him with a cheer and a thumbs up, him breaking into a boyish grin soon after receving his prize.

He looks overwhelmingly charming like this, and each time he falls, he makes sure to go down in a variety of poses. At his antics, you can't help but laugh at the boy and shake your head, unbelieving at the fact that you're laughing at your husband whom you supposedly hate.

Lying chest down on the surfboard, his hands paddle at his sides to gain momentum when he notices a wave soon to crash, clearly looking excited. However, you aren't.

You can't help but let the panic in you grow as this isn't just a normal sized wave. It's huge, and comparing it to his body, he looks like he's going to get devoured into the water, especially since he's still a beginner.

You stand up from the beach towel you've been laying on, a hand to your chest as you hold your breath. When Jake manages to get on top of the wave, he looks at you in victory, but before you can return the gesture, Jake loses his footing and disappears into the water.

"No…" You inch closer to the sea, feet getting soaked into the water as you wait for Jake to come up. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jake's instructor begins to grow worried, and you watch him paddle his surfboard close to the area where Jake had disappeared.

"Jake!?" You call out his name yet you don't get a reply. Jake always replies to you. Even when you scream or scoff his name out, he still answers. So, why isn't he now?

Wanting nothing more than to dive into the water and find him yourself, you chuck your dress off, and swim towards where his instructor is heading, following his lead so the both of you can search for your husband.

With the wire on the surfboard strapped onto Jake's ankle, you can only hope that his board soon floats up, and after a few long seconds, it does. Finally, you release a loud sigh, quickly paddling your hands to its location, finding your husband passed out. Your heart only sinks deeper at the thought of something terrible happening to him.

Without wasting any more time, both you and the instructor drag Jake's body up to the shore, carefully placing him down. With fear stricken eyes, you cup Jake's cheek in the palm of your hand, shaking it gently in a desperate attempt to wake him up.

"Jake? Wake up, please." You beg as your hands shake when you grab a hold of his own, clutching them in yours and kissing the back of it as you watch the instructor perform CPR on your husband.

The man presses down on his chest a couple of times before putting his ear next to Jake's mouth, searching for signs of breathing. When nothing happens, the instructor tells you that he's going to have to give Jake mouth to mouth precipitation, and you quickly agree. As the man's lips inch closer to Jakes', your husband suddenly bolt's up, stunning both you and the instructor as you realize that your husband was faking everything all along.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" He says, frantically pushing the instructor off, and your jaw hangs in disbelief.

"You asshole!" You scream out, slapping his chest as you feel stray tears trickle down your face at having been worried that he had been gone forever. "Why would you do that, huh? W-Why the fuck are you laughing?! Jake, stop!"

Ugh, how dare he laugh?! You feel so frustrated right now that you just want to punch that sick grin off his face.

Once Jake notices that you aren't taking his joke the same way he is, he immediately gets serious. He pulls you in for an embrace, and you gladly take it without much resistance, tears stopping soon after as you're just happy that he's alive.

Soon, annoyance comes rushing back into your senses and you dig your palms to his chest, pulling away from him. "Fuck you! I can't believe I bothered to give a shit about you! You pull that type of stunt again Jake Sim, you're not only going to lose a wife, but your kids too!"

And it's safe to say that mixed with the fear of losing his dear wife, Jake felt awfully guilty for trying to sneakily steal a kiss from you. Now that he thinks about it, he couldn't be anymore stupid to do such a horrid prank on you. His intentions might have been for his own selfish desire, but he didn't think you'd shed tears.

You're a fucking asshole, Jake. You just made your wife cry.

It's safe to say that due to his theatrics, your day of wild surfing and sitting by the beach has been cancelled. Not only that but it's as if the heavens sympathize with your mood, the sky turning gray and dark, a foreboding sign that a storm is about dawn.

It's currently night time and you still feel as sour as a sweaty armpit. You've been mercilessly ignoring Jake since the events earlier this morning, wanting him to learn a lesson or two in comedy because none of that shit was even close to funny! It was scary; the thought of him leaving.

Everytime he tries to strike up a conversation with you, you shut him down with short answers and snide remarks. The same topic of "Oh, why don't you just pretend to drown yada yada." recurring on and on and Jake is forced to retreat, though, the idea of trying again never leaving his mind once.

Even Though he's back in phase one— the phase where you hate his guts— he knows he can get past this. He can do it. He just needs to take his time and give you yours. All he wants right now is to beg down on his knees, and tell you how much he regretted doing it. If only you'd let him, he would lick your feet if you asked.

The two of you were supposed to have dinner outside when the rain started pouring, barring the two of you inside your hotel room as for some reason, the hotel made the bright idea to build the restaurant without a roof. Even though you detested having to be in the same room as Jake, you wouldn't dare getting wet. Luckily for the both of you, room service was a thing.

A part of you feels like you should act nicer towards the boy, besides, he is your husband. During your stay here, he's been nothing but a sweetheart; paying for everything, guiding you, and entertaining every childish plan you have to spite him— well, save for the stupid shit he pulled this morning— obviously, nothing worked. He just took every dumb thing you did as adorable, even when you ignored him.

"Room service!" A man announces from the other side of the door. Being the gentleman that he is, Jake gets up before you do, telling you that he'll get it.

When the door cracks open, pops of confetti and a series of cheers erupt inside your suite. The whole group of staff shows up, and they all start singing him a happy birthday. One of the staff drags in a cart full of intricate looking dishes placed gently on top, a large bottle of champagne sat nicely inside a bucket of ice, and a lighted cake with the writings "Happy 20th Birthday!" written on it.

Of course today just had to be his birthday! Now, how are you supposed to maintain your cold exterior once finding out that you've not only forgotten your husband's birthday, but also ignored him the whole day while he was just trying to get a kiss from you. It sounds so dumb yet you assume that it's an idea Jake is willing to entertain.

The poor boy gets taken aback, speechless as they surprise him on his birthday, but nonetheless, he starts clapping smally and humming with them. When he sees that they're putting the dishes down, he goes in to help them, however they shoo the boy away.

"Happy birthday Mr. Jake!" They all cheered in unison, and as their song came to an end, a staff lifted up the cake, and gestured for him to blow the candles off.

Before he does, he closes his eyes, a boyish grin on his face and you almost blurt out the word "Cute" in front of everyone. It certainly won't be out of the ordinary for them, but you can only guess the inner turmoil it's going to give you.

When he's done with his wish, he blows out his candles, and once again, cheers and claps erupt, you joining in and smiling at him, realizing that you can stop being an asshole just for today since it's his birthday.

"Mrs. Sim," A staff member calls out and asks excitedly, "Aren't you going to give the birthday boy a kiss?"

Both freezing on the spot, you and Jake lock eyes with each other, but no one notices as everyone shoots up in hoots, telling you enthusiastically to give your husband a kiss.

You take Jake by surprise when you suddenly stride towards him, pressing your lipstick coated lips on his in front of everybody. Like the first time you've kissed him, his cheeks burn, and his heart beats faster. It's like he's reliving his first kiss all over again; this version being done in front of a crowd.

His eyes are wide and unbelieving, and upon seeing his adorable reaction, you laugh, dragging your finger across the cake's icing and smearing it on his cheek before walking back with a shake of your head and he doesn't miss the giggle that escapes your lips.

Once he regains his composure and the rave eventually dies down, he thanks the staff, and bids them all a nice farewell, escorting them outside. Jake, being the kind and respectful boy that he is, doesn't forget to bow, showing his gratitude, and you're once again reminded that you're married to a literal angel, and not a devil reincarnate like how you make him out to be.

Maybe being married to Jake Sim isn't so bad. You're still angry at your parents for approving this, and you still haven't proved the hunch you had that Jake is an accomplice. However, if you find out that he is, would it change your perspective of him knowing that this kind and angel like persona is his natural self? Is it so bad to be stuck with this man for the rest of your life?

Gosh, it sounds like you're developing a case of Stockholm Syndrome, or are you just plainly bat shit crazy because are you really coming to terms with your situation this early on?

Regardless, you don't know why you've been fussing so much. You're not obligated to fall in love with the man. You just have to treat him how he deserves, like a normal human being. Sure, your endless nights reigned with sex might come to a holt for a few— you'll surely have to if you don't want to be perceived as a cheater by the media. God knows what your mother would do if she finds out you've broken poor little Jakey Wakey's fragile heart and it's safe to say that you don't want to hear any of that bullshit soon.

"Uhm…" Is the first thing he says to you after the kiss. Poor Jake is unsure of where the two of you stand. Maybe you were just pressured and kissed him so as to not raise the suspicion that you have absolutely no feelings for him. If that were the case, then he feels like it's his fault. "You hungry?"

Of Course he asks you. Jake always puts you first regardless of the situation.

"A bit." You reply to him with a soft sigh, feeling unsure yourself after the act you impulsively did.

Jake looks a bit disappointed for a moment as he genuinely thought that you might want to spend some time with him. It's his birthday after all, but he guessed that he had to try even harder for you to accept him if he truly wanted you.

You can see the heartbreak inside his puppy-like eyes, and you bet that if he had a tail, it would've stopped wagging right then. Now, you immediately regret what you said. You could've just lied and said you were hungry for his sake. Read the room you dumb bitch!

"Oh, then we can eat later when you're hungry. I'll heat it up later so it's still hot. For now, I guess—"

"Are you hungry?" You cut him off, placing your book down, sitting up and leaning forward so you can admire the food, and act as if your question didn't just send him into overdrive, this being the first time you've asked a question that showed even a sliver of interest in regards to him.

"Y-Yeah." He says, stuttering out his answer.

You sit up, feeling determined to make up for your bad behavior. "Then we eat." Gesturing for him to sit beside you on the rug right in front of the coffee table, you serve him a plate.

You feel Jake's stare at the side of your head as he watches you put noodles on his plate so, you look up with questioning eyes, knitting your eyebrows as if to ask if there was a problem. "What?"

"N-Nothing." He says quickly before seating beside you, making sure to put an appropriate amount of space between the two of you so as to not overstep the boundaries that he's already thankful to have with you.

"Eat up. I wouldn't want your mom scolding me for not taking care of her baby boy."

It was as if something in Jake had been ignited when the pet name came out of your mouth. It wasn't in the terms that he wanted it to be in, but just hearing your voice along with those words sends his body on fire, and Jake can only wish you would call him that.

The night goes on with the two of you talking over dinner, Jake being giddy and jumpy the whole time. Despite the grim night, Jake lights up the room with his golden aura, and it's as if there weren't thunder clapping outside.

Surprisingly, the boy is fairly clumsy. He knocked his glass of water, your glass of water, smeared pasta juice all over his face in a delirious attempt to make you smile— which he succeeded as he even made you laugh— and lastly, spilled wine all over your white shirt.

"I still don't understand how you managed to knock the wine onto my shirt." You scoff out an unbelieving laugh, not at all angry with your shirt being ruined as you make your way to the small of your suite's closet.

"I'm really sorry." He apologizes cutely, following behind you like a puppy, and you can't help but want to pinch his cheeks. "I'll get you a new shirt tomorrow if you want?"

"You're so sweet Jake." You comment, pulling your stained shirt off your body, exposing your bra cladded chest to your husband as if it wouldn't drive him nuts.

It's the wine working its way into your system that's making you act so shamelessly as you and Jake had a few glasses prior whilst eating. The both of you are a bit tipsy, but there's no decision you can't make in this state of mind.

Taking the chance, your husband rakes over your body, but not before catching himself slipping. He slaps himself for being so perverted, but does it again either way, and to Jake's embarrassment, you catch him.

He's about to blurt out another apology again, but you stop him by tangling your arms around his neck, pulling his body flushed against yours in the heat of the moment. "If you're going to be a pervert Jake, might as well own up to it, right?"

Jake can only stare at you with unbelieving and shaken eyes at having been caught, all the while having your naked skin pressed against his. His body is burning in want and need, and his lack of judgment and the heat of the moment overtakes his stature as he grasps onto your hips in a fit of desperation, hopelessly gripping them ground himself and have you closer.

"I asked you a question, Jake." You draw out, fingers digging themselves into his cheeks to catch his focus.

"I… I…" He's at a loss, finding it embarrassing having to confess his desires for you in such a scenario.

"Come on, puppy. You can do it." You urge on, and Jake releases a pitiful whine at the pet name, one he could only dream of you giving him. "I'm not going to fuck you otherwise."

At that, Jake's ears perk up, eyes wide and onlooking at your claim. His black boba eyes are addicting to look at. The hand that was pressing on both of his cheeks went to trace the curve of his lips, biting your lip in the process as if to contain yourself from smiling too wide. "Yes, I'm a— fuck — I'm a pervert."

"There he is," You cheer, smirking at how compliant your husband is already. "And what else?"

What else is there? Do you really want him to confess how much he's been dying for you to fuck him? Is that it?

Jake's mind is jumbled. The wine didn't make him drunk, you did as now, he’s tipsy from both the words that fall off your lips and your touches.

"You're a whore. That's what you are. " You say, answering for him as you release the grip you had on his cheeks. "Do you think I never noticed the way you'd peep into my room in the middle of the night, hm? Or, the time where you were humping the pillow you took from my room? You thought I didn't know what you were doing, didn't you?"

From the millionth time, Jake becomes speechless, and he's unsure if you're angry at him or not, though it seems to be as if you're just trying to make him own up. However, one things for sure, his dick is getting hard.

"At the end of the day, our little goody two shoes Jake is just a whore." You spit out with venom.

"Why don't you show me how desperate you are?"

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let's all wish jake a happy birthday!

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