#i just can’t figure out what exactly i need to do

[ugh-yoongi]

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

[revelboo]

reader: *engaging in asshole cat behavior to piss of prowl*

prowl:

Pretty much 🤣

Stand Too Close Pt 7

IDW Prowl x Reader

• Why are you like this? For some reason he can’t understand, you’ve taken it into your little mind to deliberately try to antagonize him or provoke him. It makes him almost miss the days when you just ignored him or sulked in a corner. Freezing when you decide that you absolutely need to sprawl across the back of his hand on your belly so you can draw crude, inappropriate little pictures on his report to Optimus. “Find somewhere else to be,” he growls, tipping his hand to dump you off. Aware of the slide of your little, warm body against him as you straighten and glare up at him.

• Whatever that was between you had been electric, scandalous and exciting. And your personal enemy is now going out of his way to not touch you ever since. Actually trying to avoid you like he hadn’t been the one to get handsy and pin you down. Like your current frustration isn’t entirely his fault. Blowing out a breath from your spot where he’d dumped you, there’s no figuring him out. What you do know? Something has to give. Ever since realizing big and unpleasant can get closer to your size and that he might just have a freaky side? That’s the only place your brain wants to go. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I kidnap you and ruin your life?”

• Door wings lifting stiffly, he glares as you stand up and lean a hip against his knuckles, insisting on touching him again. Arms crossed while you raise your eyebrows at him in challenge. He knows you’re baiting him, but he still grits his denta. “You ran out in front of me, remember?” He growls, struggling with that smug look on your face that makes him itch to do something about it. Remembering shocking you speechless when he pinned you for all of a handful of seconds before you got even angrier. Remembers exactly what that had done to him.

• “You’re a cop car. How was I supposed to know you’re too stupid to understand how crosswalks work?” The data pad in his big servos cracks. And then he’s shoving up from his desk so fast his chair turns over. Glaring down at you like he’s considering squishing you like a bug. Fingers digging into your upper arms to hide the faint, nervous tremble, you smile sweetly. “Oh, did I find a nerve?”

• You’re trying to provoke him. Even knowing that, he’s still lunging. Mass shifting again even though he feels the drain to his reserves from the massive expenditure of energy too soon after the last and knows he’s going to pay for it later. For now there’s your satisfying little yelp as he catches you by the arm and yanks you into him, his other arm cupping the back of your head when you try to rear back. There’s that anger that twists in his spark. “Not nearly so bold now,” he growls, lip curling as you actually bare your little teeth at him and he remembers that startling lick of pain when you’d bit him.

• Big hands on you, pinning you to him as the jerk smirks. But he’s your size again or closer to it anyway. Tugging against his grip just to feel his servos tighten against you, because you like it even if you’ll never be able to admit it out loud. “You think?” You ask him and he leans closer like he’s daring you to try and bite him again. And it’s tempting, but using the brush guard on his chassis to boost yourself, you lunge, mouth crashing against his in anger and frustration and need all twisted together.

Previous

I think Soundwave may be winning for most shelf space taken

[tripleglitchwriting]

I heard you're up for writing prowl (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)!! Maybe just cute moments of reader and prowl cuddling or baking.... anything thats cute

I did it! I posted something!! Yippee!!!

This is fluffy prowl and reader movie night!!

It’s technically Earthspark Prowl, but I didn’t really do much of a deep dive into his character so it’s just kind of an amalgamation of Prowl’s in my head.

Anyway, enjoy :-)

Movie night. Your favorite time. It just happened to be incredibly difficult to set up with a guy hellbent on working 24/7. Luckily, you knew how to be creative by now. And so when you located a particularly bountiful energon deposit, a plan started to come together.

…

“Don’t.” He rumbled, “Do not touch that.”

Prowl loomed over you like an angry building, but you knew better than to be worried. The mine you’d “accidentally” found was a treasure trove of glittering, luminescent crystals reminiscent of the fantasy worlds in your dreams. It was beautiful, but not your mission. His, maybe, but not yours.

Being about the size of Prowl’s palm, you had to watch your step everywhere you went, else you somehow impale yourself on an energon shard. Of course, you used this to your advantage.

“Hm? Why? You scared?” You teased, just slightly poking the tip of a particularly sharp one.

“No, I’m concerned. You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“What’s the problem? I see you drinking this stuff all the time!”

“Yes. Because I run on it, you don’t— it’s not even processed yet! So stop touching it.”

“Oh… I don’t know, it looks pretty delicious…”

“Are you glitched?”

“We’re about to find out!” You just about graze your teeth on a crystal before you are unceremoniously yanked away by a gigantic metal hand.

“Seriously, what in Primus’s name do you think you’re— oh. Oh. You little— don’t give me that, I can see what you’re doing!”

“Oh? And what am I doing exactly?” You grinned. He growled back.

“You have the right to remain silent. We’re going back to base and reporting this to Prime.”

And so you did. And he carried you the entire way back. You didn’t want to stay there for any longer than you had to, as pretty as it was, because tonight was movie night.

Prowl never left a job unfinished when it was right in front of his face. You suspected he would try and execute every procedure ever passed into law when it came to new energon deposits on an alien planet, even if he’d been living there for months now. And he would’ve done it right there. Standing in the equivalent to a cave full of explosives. Like a stubborn idiot.

You also knew that, if he didn’t do it, the rest of the Autobots would. Like they’re supposed to. Because it’s their job. With a mine like that, they’d be occupied for the entire night. How convenient…

…

When you finally arrived back at headquarters, he was already heading to his office. “Office” being a loose term here, as it was really just a room he put a desk, chair, and datapads in. The most basic, bland, boring kind. That was all he needed.

But not you. And you were going to make sure your plans went through.

“PROOOOOWL!!” You yowled right next to his audial receptor. He’d been doing whatever important report, but you figured it could wait.

“AGH!” He jointed up in his head, “WHAT?!”

“It’s almost time! Movie night!”

“Oh- you little fragging scraplet, can’t you see I’m doing something important?”

“More important than Terminator? Or Robocop?”

“Leagues more important than those sorry excuses for mechanical representation.”

“Oh, fine, I’ll just… put on Spaceballs…” He stopped.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. And I’d play it so loud that you could never focus on your work.”

“Don’t—” but you had already slid down his desk, racing to the adjacent room.

“YOU— DO NOT PLAY THAT AWFUL FILM!”

“I can’t hear you over the sounds of LONE STARR and his GOOFY GANG of SILLY characters!”

He could never catch you in time. Not because he wasn’t fast enough, no, he could pick you up in a second, but because you already had the trap set. The room you’d ran into was decked out with the best projector tech you could find. (AKA, the best projector tech you could convince Nightshade to make without turning the movie into a 5D nightmare) You had popcorn, energon candy, a mountain of blankets, and quite the wide array of tasteful films.

When he finally entered your snare, you received the most withering death glare known to mankind. But everything that withers must also bloom, and you could see joy behind his optics. Mostly because they were shining significantly brighter than usual. Hah, and he thinks you can’t tell when he’s hiding his real feelings.

The fairy lights you’d set up glowed a beautiful gold against otherwise dark corners. Your face was just slightly visible, especially with how small it was compared to him, but you knew he could see your beaming smile. He let out an exaggerated ex-vent, doorwings forcefully dropping and optics rolling. Still, once he finally sat down next to you, you saw them perk right back up again.

“We aren’t watching that horrendous mockery of a movie, right?”

“Psh, I don’t even have the DVD anymore. You broke it after flipping the table. Tonight, you get to decide what we watch.”

“Wait, I… but I thought you enjoyed choosing the film.”

“Sure I do. But I want to watch what you want to watch tonight.”

And his optics grew bright again, illuminating your wide selection of 80’s, 90’s, and early 2000’s DVDs. Breakfast Club, Mean Girls, Star Wars, The Godfather, Planet of the Apes… everything you could think of he hadn’t already seen.

So you were a little caught off guard when he chose The Princess Bride. Something he’d seen nearly ten times already.

Oh, sure, he played it off as an excuse to ‘get to know human culture’, but the same could be said for every other movie on the planet. You didn’t argue.

As the night progressed, you were eventually able to get him to pick you up. For a guy who claims to dislike soft things, he sure does put up with a lot of pillows and blankets for you.

You tried not to move when he unconsciously ran a digit down your back. Or when he pet your hair. Or when he adjusted himself to make sure you weren’t about to fall out of his fabric covered palm.

You fell asleep long before the movie ended. You couldn’t possibly know that he denied every call on his comm link, shooed away any bot curious enough to crack open the door, and completely forgot about the report that had been oh so important earlier.

You also couldn’t know that, had he wanted to, he could just turn his audials off if he didn’t want to hear you watch Spaceballs. He could’ve left you at the base when he realized you’d stumbled upon an energon mine. He could’ve made you leave his office when he worked on his reports. But he didn’t. He didn’t because the minuscule weight you provided in his servos was everything he needed.

Work could wait just a little longer. Tonight was movie night.

[millyh23]

Fishy Business

Katie McCabe x Reader

word count:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Katie and Y/N had been living together for a few months now, and their cozy little apartment was beginning to feel a bit too quiet. The two had spent many nights discussing how to make their home feel more like a family, and one thought kept creeping up: getting a pet. They’d always joked about it, but now that the idea was on the table, it was time for some serious discussions.

“I’ve been thinking,” Katie began one afternoon, as she snuggled up to Y/N on the couch, “We should get a cat. They’re independent, clean, and they’re just… perfect.”

Y/N turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “A cat?” She grimaced slightly. “I’m not sure about that. Cats are… sneaky, and they don’t really care about you unless they want something.”

Katie’s face lit up, and she playfully nudged Y/N’s shoulder. “That’s what I love about them. They’re mysterious, and they’re so cute when they ignore you just enough to make you want their attention even more.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, but I want a dog. A big one. Someone who’ll love me no matter what and follow me around the house like a shadow. A loyal companion.”

Katie crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “A dog? They’re so needy. Always jumping on you, licking your face, begging for attention.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you, babe,” she teased, and Katie scowled playfully.

“I’m not needy!” Katie shot back with a grin. “I’m just affectionate. But you’re right about one thing… I do want someone who’ll follow me around. That way, I’m never alone.”

“Exactly,” Y/N agreed, her tone softening. “A dog would do that. A cat would just stare at me like I’m the hired help.”

The two fell into an awkward silence for a moment, both of them clearly invested in their opinions but not sure how to move forward.

Finally, Y/N broke the silence. “Okay, fine. You want a cat. I want a dog. What do we do now?”

Katie looked thoughtful for a second before grinning mischievously. “What if we get both?”

Y/N blinked, taken aback. “Both? You want two pets?”

Katie shrugged. “Why not? We could get a cat for me and a dog for you, and they can have each other as company when we’re both out.”

“Uh-uh,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I’m not having a cat and a dog tearing up the place. It’ll be chaos.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. So we’ll have to compromise, right?”

The idea of compromise wasn’t one Y/N enjoyed, but she knew they needed to figure something out. After all, this was something important to both of them.

“What if we get a fish?” Y/N suggested hesitantly, a little unsure of how Katie would respond.

Katie paused, thinking. “A fish? Really?”

Y/N nodded. “It’s low-maintenance, no barking or meowing, and we can just watch it swim around. It’s like… the perfect middle ground.”

Katie sighed dramatically. “I wanted a furry little friend, not a fish that just floats around.”

“Well, I wanted a big dog who’ll run around the yard with me, but we’re not exactly in a house with a yard,” Y/N shot back, her tone teasing. “A fish will do just fine.”

Katie folded her arms, clearly not convinced. “Fine. We’ll get a fish. But I’m not going to be excited about it.”

Y/N grinned. “Well, at least we won’t have to deal with your cat fur all over the place.”

The two of them went to the pet store the next day, picking out a small aquarium, some plants, and a couple of colorful fish. They both looked at each other as they set up the tank, their eyes not exactly filled with excitement, but more with the realization that they’d just made a decision neither of them was truly happy about.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Katie muttered, half-laughing as she filled the tank with water.

Y/N chuckled, glancing over at her. “I know. It’s not the dog or the cat we wanted, but it’s something.”

Katie gave a mock-sigh. “I was hoping for a cat that I could cuddle. Now I’m stuck with a fish that… I can’t even pet.”

“Well, we can’t exactly pet a dog when it’s on a walk, can we?” Y/N shot back. “At least a fish won’t bite you.”

The two of them stared at the fish, their eyes softening just a little. The fish swam gracefully, moving in and out of the plants in the tank.

“It’s kind of peaceful, though,” Y/N admitted quietly. “I like watching it swim.”

Katie nodded, her arms crossing as she leaned against the counter. “Yeah, it’s kind of… relaxing.”

“I guess it’s not so bad,” Y/N said, glancing at Katie with a small smile. “And hey, if we ever change our minds, we can always get a cat or a dog later.”

Katie rolled her eyes but smiled, reaching out to poke Y/N’s side. “We’re not getting another pet. This fish is our baby now.”

Y/N laughed. “Sure, babe. Our fish baby.”

Katie shrugged. “At least it’s not a hamster. We’d be arguing about the cage size all week.”

As they both stood there, looking at the small, quiet fish, they realized that sometimes compromise wasn’t about getting exactly what you wanted. It was about making things work, even if neither of you was entirely thrilled with the outcome. And in the end, that was enough.

After all, they had each other. And a fish.

It had been two days since Katie and Y/N brought home their fish. The tank had settled in nicely in the corner of their living room, and the little fish, a shimmering orange and white goldfish with delicate fins, had quickly become a peaceful, if somewhat unexpected, addition to their home.

However, there was still one pressing issue left: the fish needed a name.

“Okay, we’ve been avoiding this long enough,” Y/N said, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the tank. The fish swam around, blissfully unaware of the importance of the conversation at hand. “It’s time to name the fish.”

Katie, who was lounging on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table, looked over at Y/N with a dramatic sigh. “I know. But what do we name it? We’re just going to call it ‘the fish’ forever, aren’t we?”

Y/N shot her a playful look. “Don’t tell me you’re not getting attached already.”

Katie rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. “I mean, I’m not attached, but it’s hard not to get a little fond of something that doesn’t argue back.”

Y/N grinned. “Exactly. So, let’s give it a name.”

Katie sat up, crossing her arms. “Alright, alright. What do you have in mind?”

Y/N squinted at the fish, watching it swim in slow, graceful circles. “What about… Fluff?”

Katie raised an eyebrow. “Fluff? It’s a fish. I don’t think it’s fluffy.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe not Fluff,” Y/N conceded, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “How about… Bubbles?”

Katie snorted. “Bubbles? You’re naming it after a childhood cartoon character?”

Y/N shrugged. “It’s cute. And it’s an easy go-to name for a fish. Plus, it suits this little guy.” She pointed at the fish, which was now hovering near the surface, its fins fluttering like delicate lace.

Katie scoffed dramatically. “That’s a bit too cliché, don’t you think?”

Y/N gave her a side-eye. “You’re one to talk. You suggested Sir Swims-a-lot.”

Katie blushed and smirked, clearly embarrassed but not willing to back down. “It’s a good name. He’s got a lot of energy. Could be an aristocrat of the fish world, ruling over all the other tank creatures.”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, Sir Swims-a-lot. That’s rich. We might need a crown for him.”

Katie stuck her tongue out at her, but then paused, looking at the fish again. “Okay, okay. Let’s take this seriously for a second.” She shifted on the couch, resting her chin in her hand. “What about something more… regal? Like Neptune?”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s a bit too formal for a fish that’s just chilling in a tank.”

Katie frowned. “You know, you’re no fun sometimes.”

“Hey, I’m just thinking practically. We need a name that’s cute but also a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” Y/N said, smirking.

Katie raised a finger, as though struck by a sudden revelation. “What about… Fishy McFishface?”

Y/N blinked at her. “Oh no, you did not just go there.”

Katie grinned, leaning back with satisfaction. “I did. And I stand by it. It’s a classic.”

Y/N groaned, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you just referenced that. It’s too much of a meme.”

“But it’s perfect!” Katie argued. “It’s funny and it makes people smile. You love making people laugh.”

Y/N paused, considering. “You know, it does have a certain charm…”

“I knew you’d come around,” Katie said smugly, crossing her arms and leaning back on the couch.

Y/N shook her head, trying to hold back a grin. “I mean, it’s ridiculous, but it’s kind of our ridiculous. Fine, Fishy McFishface it is.”

Katie’s eyes lit up with triumph. “Yes! I knew you’d see the genius in it.”

As Y/N got up to grab a marker and label the tank with the new name, she paused and glanced back at Katie, who was now looking at the fish with a fond expression.

“You know,” Y/N said, her tone softer now, “even if it’s just a fish, I’m kind of glad we did this. It’s nice having something… alive in here that we get to look after together.”

Katie smiled, her eyes warm. “Yeah, me too. Maybe it’s not a dog or a cat, but it’s still part of the family.”

Y/N gave her a teasing look. “You’re not gonna start getting too attached, are you? I don’t need you calling it your ‘baby.’”

Katie stuck her tongue out playfully. “It’s my fish, and I’m going to spoil it rotten. It’s just as good as a dog, but without all the barking.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled as she walked over to the tank. “Alright, Fishy McFishface, welcome to the family.”

The fish, as if responding to the name, swam in lazy circles, oblivious to the discussion that had just taken place.

Katie McCabe had always been a little too carefree about things. She loved her spontaneous adventures, her carelessness, and her ability to laugh at almost everything, even when it wasn’t entirely appropriate. But when it came to taking care of Fishy McFishface, she thought she had it all under control. After all, how hard could it be to care for a fish? Just feed it, change the water once in a while, and keep the tank clean. Right?

Wrong.

It had started out innocently enough. The tank had been sparkling clean, Fishy McFishface was happily swimming around, and Y/N was admiring the little fish from across the room. But Katie—busy with training, social media, and all the distractions that came with life—had let a few things slide. She’d forgotten to feed Fishy a couple of times, skipped cleaning the tank for a few days longer than she should have, and, most unfortunately, she had gotten a bit careless with the water temperature.

That’s when things went wrong.

Katie had come home one evening, after a particularly grueling practice session, to find Fishy McFishface floating lifeless at the top of the tank.

“Oh no. No, no, no…” Katie muttered, panic rising in her chest. She reached into the tank, scooping up the little fish with trembling hands. “Please don’t be dead…”

But there was no denying it. The fish was gone.

Katie quickly sprang into action. She drained the tank, cleaned everything out, and made a decision: she would replace Fishy McFishface. It was a small fish, after all. Y/N would never notice the difference, right? Katie was sure she could pull it off. She went out and bought a nearly identical goldfish, one that looked just like their beloved pet, only this one was a little more vibrant in color, as if it had been dipped in a bit too much gold.

When Y/N came home, she barely glanced at the tank, distracted by the bag of groceries in her hands.

“Hey, babe,” Y/N greeted her, setting the bags down. “How’s our fishy today?”

Katie, trying to act casual, nodded. “Oh, you know. Just swimming around. Same old.”

Y/N didn’t think much of it, but as she glanced at the tank, she could have sworn the fish had gotten brighter. "It looks different, doesn’t it? A bit more… golden?"

Katie laughed nervously. “Nah, I think it’s just the lighting. Maybe it’s been eating well.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “Well, Fishy McFishface is looking good. I’ll take it.”

Katie breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this would work. Maybe the new fish would slip under the radar.

The next day, however, the truth came crashing down.

Y/N had been in the kitchen, making some tea, when she casually glanced over at the tank. Something was off. The fish was definitely not the same one as yesterday. It was slightly larger, a little more sleek, and—now that she was really looking—its fin markings were wrong. The markings on the fins of the original Fishy McFishface had been a bit more spread out. This one had a more symmetrical pattern.

Y/N crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, suspicious. She leaned closer to the tank, staring at the fish with increasing doubt. The colors were even brighter than before.

Wait a second…

“Katie!” Y/N called out sharply from the kitchen.

Katie froze in the living room. She had been doing some stretches, trying to keep her body loose, but the tone of Y/N’s voice made her stomach drop. “Uh, yeah?”

Y/N slowly walked over to the tank, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She pointed at the fish, now darting around happily. “Katie, did… did Fishy McFishface just get a makeover overnight?”

Katie’s heart sank. She had been hoping this wouldn’t happen. How did she figure it out so fast?

“Well… uh…” Katie stammered, walking over nervously. “I, um… It’s just the lighting, right? Maybe you didn’t notice before, but—”

“Katie.” Y/N’s voice was calm, but the sternness in it sent a little chill down Katie’s spine. “This is not the same fish.”

Katie’s face went pale. “What? Of course it is! What are you talking about?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with amusement, but she kept her face stoic. “You’ve replaced Fishy McFishface, haven’t you?”

Katie’s mouth went dry. “Okay, fine. I might’ve… replaced it. But it’s the same species! It’s practically the same fish, just… newer.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Newer?”

Katie rubbed the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “I—uh, I might’ve accidentally… killed it. And, uh, panicked. So I got a new one. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

Y/N blinked a few times, processing this. She then crossed her arms and let out a dramatic sigh. “Katie McCabe, you killed our fish?!”

Katie looked absolutely horrified as she took a step toward Y/N. “Babe, I swear, I didn’t mean to! I messed up with the water temperature, and then I—” She trailed off, biting her lip. “Please don’t be mad. I’ve already replaced it, and it’s just as cute—”

Y/N interrupted her, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I can’t believe you would do that, Katie. First, you kill Fishy McFishface. Then you think you can just sneak a new fish in and act like nothing happened?” She placed a hand over her chest. “I’m deeply hurt, Katie. You’ve betrayed me.”

Katie’s face crumpled as she looked at Y/N with pleading eyes. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know what else to do! Please don’t be upset. I—” She dropped to her knees in front of Y/N, clasping her hands together. “Please, Y/N, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’ll… I’ll clean the tank every week. I’ll feed it every single day. I’ll even get another fish if you want—just don’t be mad at me.”

Y/N looked down at Katie’s dramatic display, unable to keep up the act any longer. She burst into laughter, doubling over as the tension lifted from her body. “Oh my God, you’re ridiculous!”

Katie blinked up at her, still kneeling on the floor. “Wait… what?”

“I’m not actually mad at you!” Y/N gasped between giggles. “It’s just a fish, Katie. But you should’ve seen the look on your face when you thought I was upset!”

Katie’s expression shifted from panic to confusion, then to realization. “You were messing with me the whole time, weren’t you?”

Y/N nodded, still chuckling. “You should’ve seen yourself. You were ready to do anything to make it up to me.”

Katie stood up, rolling her eyes with a relieved sigh. “You’re cruel, Y/N. Absolutely cruel. I’m going to remember this.”

Y/N grinned, taking Katie’s hand. “Don’t worry, babe. I forgive you. And I’ll let you off the hook… this time.”

Katie pulled her in for a kiss. “You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“I know,” Y/N said with a grin. “But, uh, next time you ‘replace’ the fish, maybe just let me know beforehand?”

Katie laughed. “Deal. As long as you promise to pretend to be upset again. It was kind of fun.”

Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

And so, Fishy McFishface lived in their hearts definitely still part of the family.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The End.

[rylem33]

What You Want

Casey sipped her coffee, her shoulders slouched as she stared into her cup. “I just don’t know, Amy. I didn’t mean to quit again, but… well, it just didn’t feel right, you know?”

Amy raised an eyebrow, her fingers tapping against her own mug. “You say that every time, Case. Retail didn’t feel right, the admin job ‘wasn’t a fit,’ the freelancing felt ‘off.’ And now what? The café gig wasn’t cutting it either?”

Casey’s face reddened as she gave a slight shrug, her gaze fixed downward. “It’s not like I don’t want to work or anything. It’s just that—ugh, I don’t know.” She let out a long sigh, trying to put words to the feeling that seemed to haunt her everywhere she went. “I get there, I try to stay motivated, but something’s missing. I end up feeling like I’m just… floating, like there’s no point to any of it.”

Amy leaned back, her face softening as she regarded Casey with an expression somewhere between pity and understanding. “So, what are you waiting for? You need direction, right? A push?”

Casey felt an uncomfortable twist in her stomach as she nodded half-heartedly. It felt embarrassing, admitting to feeling so lost at her age, especially to Amy, who had everything in her life so perfectly together. “I guess? I don’t know if I need a push, exactly. It’s more like I need to figure out what I even want to be pushed toward.”

Amy smiled, leaning forward with a gleam in her eye. “Then maybe it’s time you tried something different.”

Casey’s face twisted with a skeptical look as she shot Amy a wary glance. “Oh no. I know that look. You’re about to pitch me some wild idea.”

“Well, wild or not, it worked for me, didn’t it?” Amy shot back, her voice firm. “Do you see me vaping anymore?”

Casey rolled her eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I still can’t believe you actually did that. Hypnosis? Isn’t that just… mind tricks and creepy suggestions?”

Amy crossed her arms, her expression unrelenting. “Come on, Casey. It’s not like the movies. I mean, yes, you let someone guide your mind, but it’s all about relaxation and suggestion. It’s not like they make you cluck like a chicken. The hypnotherapist I used just helped me focus, made me want to quit. I’m serious; it worked like magic.”

Casey’s interest was piqued, despite herself, but she shrugged it off, unwilling to let herself be swept up in yet another thing that wouldn’t work out. “So, what, they put you in a trance, and you woke up a non-vaper?”

Amy laughed. “Not quite. It’s more like they give your mind a nudge. They plant a suggestion, and it just… sticks. If you give it a try, I’m willing to bet they could help you find some clarity. Maybe even a little confidence boost.”

Casey scrunched her nose, stirring her coffee absently, feeling her initial resistance starting to crack. “I don’t know. It sounds weird, like I’m handing over my brain to someone else.”

“You’re not handing it over; you’re steering it,” Amy countered, her tone insistent. “You’re telling it, ‘Hey, brain, we’re done wandering aimlessly.’ You just need a bit of direction. And seriously, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Casey looked away, chewing her lip as she mulled over Amy’s words. There was a part of her that was almost desperate enough to give in, but fear and embarrassment held her back. She hated that it was always Amy pushing her, while she herself seemed forever stuck on the sidelines, never really going anywhere.

With a heavy sigh, Casey finally met Amy’s gaze. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Amy’s face lit up, and she pulled out her phone. “Think about it on the way to your appointment! I’ll book it right now, and trust me—you’re going to feel like a whole new person.”

“Wait—Amy! I didn’t mean right now!” Casey protested, but it was too late.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey sat on the soft, oversized couch in the hypnotherapist’s office, her fingers fidgeting in her lap as she took in her surroundings. The walls were a soothing shade of blue, and calming, ambient music played softly in the background. She glanced at the man sitting across from her—a middle-aged therapist with a warm, reassuring smile and an air of quiet confidence.

“So, Casey,” he began, his voice gentle yet direct, “why don’t you tell me what’s brought you here today?”

Casey hesitated, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Um… well, to be honest, I’m not sure if this is going to work. I mean, I don’t even know what my problem is exactly. I just… I can’t seem to stick to anything.” She sighed, looking down at her hands. “I’ve tried different jobs, different hobbies, but nothing ever feels right. I’m just… floating, I guess.”

The therapist nodded, his gaze steady and nonjudgmental. “So, you’re feeling a lack of direction? A sense that you don’t know where you’re headed or what would give you a real sense of purpose?”

“Exactly,” Casey replied, relieved that he seemed to understand. “It’s not that I’m lazy or that I don’t care. I do… I just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“And that’s left you feeling, what? Restless? Unsatisfied?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think that’s it. I want to be… someone, I guess. I want to feel like I know who I am, what I want.”

The therapist’s smile deepened slightly. “I can help you with that, Casey. Through hypnosis, we can start working with your mind to find and reinforce that sense of purpose and self. I’d like to try a session with you today to plant a suggestion that could help you start taking those first steps.”

Casey shifted a little on the couch, nervousness flickering across her face. “I mean, if you think it’ll help. I’m… willing to try.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice reassuring. “All I need you to do is relax, let go, and trust the process. Hypnosis is nothing more than a deeply relaxed state where your mind is open to positive suggestions. I’ll guide you through it, and we’ll start by focusing on that desire you have—to find out what you want and to go after it.”

Casey took a deep breath, nodding. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

The therapist’s tone softened even further, lulling and steady. “Excellent, Casey. Now, just make yourself comfortable, close your eyes… and let yourself sink into that relaxation, letting all the tension fall away…”

Casey’s eyes fluttered closed as she leaned back into the cushions, his words drawing her deeper into a state of calm. The last thing she remembered was his soothing voice leading her down, down into the peaceful quiet, her thoughts melting away into softness as he gently guided her mind….

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey blinked in the bright afternoon light as she walked out to meet Amy, still feeling a bit fuzzy from the session. Amy was already on her feet, her expression eager.

“So?” Amy asked, practically bouncing. “How’d it go? Did he put you under? Say anything weird?”

Casey chuckled, running a hand through her hair as she tried to piece her thoughts together. “I… think so?” she said, frowning slightly. “I remember us talking about why I’m so indecisive, and he was really calm, just asking me questions. Then he started telling me to relax, and…” She trailed off, her brow furrowing as she searched her memory. “Honestly, it’s kind of a blank. I know I felt relaxed, but I don’t remember much after that.”

Amy grinned. “Sounds about right. Hypnosis doesn’t always feel like some big, earth-shattering thing right away. But it’ll get in there, work in the background. So maybe next time you’re struggling to make a choice, you’ll just… know what you want.”

Casey snorted. “Yeah, maybe. Though that would be a pretty huge change for me.”

They started strolling down the street, passing a row of little cafés and restaurants. Amy stopped in front of their usual spot, a casual Thai place they both liked. “What do you think? Thai?”

Casey looked at the place, hesitating, a dozen little thoughts flitting through her mind as they always did. It was a comfortable choice, and she wasn’t in the mood to argue or analyze anything. But then, faint and unassuming, a small thought surfaced: You know what you want…

“I mean… I could go for Thai, or maybe…” She found herself glancing across the street at a little Italian bistro they’d mentioned trying a while back. “What about that Italian place? We’ve been saying we should try it.”

Amy gave her a surprised look but shrugged. “Sure, I’m up for it if you are.”

They crossed the street, Casey feeling a bit surprised at herself. That was easier than I thought, she mused. Maybe she’d even try to make a few more decisions for herself to see if it could stick.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey opened the door to her apartment and found Liam lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up and gave her a warm smile as she walked in.

“Hey, you,” he greeted, sitting up. “How was your day?”

She dropped her bag onto a nearby chair, shrugging. “Not bad. Amy kind of roped me into something… unusual.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she talked me into going to a hypnotherapist.” Casey laughed, her cheeks flushing a little. “I know, it sounds ridiculous. I didn’t think it would do anything, but…” She paused, glancing away. “It was… interesting.”

Liam’s smile faded a bit, his brow knitting. “Hypnosis? That’s… not something I’d expect from you.”

“Right?” she said, dropping onto the couch next to him. “But Amy swears by it. She thought it might help me feel more… I don’t know, more sure of myself.”

“So did it work?” he asked, searching her face.

Casey shrugged. “I’m not sure. It was all kind of foggy. But I don’t feel any different.”

Liam nodded toward his phone. “Well, I decided to take the guesswork out of dinner for you. I ordered from that Chinese place you like. Should be here soon.”

Normally, Casey would have shrugged and let him make the call; it saved her from agonizing over small decisions. But this time, as the words settled over her, something rose up inside, that faint but clear whisper: You know what you want; you deserve what you want.

She paused, her thoughts surprising even herself. “Actually… I was thinking pizza.”

Liam glanced at her, his expression mildly surprised. “Pizza?”

“Yeah,” she said, feeling a strange firmness in her voice. “There’s that new place on Eighth, the one with the pepperoni rolls I keep hearing about. We should try that.”

“Oh.” He seemed caught off guard but didn’t push back. “Well… maybe next time? I’ve already placed the order.”

The thought flared again, insistent and unwavering. You know what you want.

“Can’t you cancel it?” Casey asked, keeping her tone light but firm. “I really want to try the pizza.”

He blinked, his eyes lingering on her a moment before he nodded slowly. “Yeah, I can call them back. Sure.” He picked up his phone, casting her an uncertain look as he started dialing.

A few minutes later, the order was changed, and the pizza was on its way. They sat together on the couch, Casey feeling a slight, unexpected satisfaction. Liam, on the other hand, seemed to be watching her a little differently, as if trying to piece something together.

“What do you want to watch later?” he asked, leaning back and scrolling through movie options. “I was thinking we could start that new thriller you mentioned last week.”

Usually, Casey would have just gone with whatever he’d chosen, trusting he’d pick something decent. But the same, steady thought surfaced in her mind again: You deserve what you want. And she didn’t want a thriller.

“How about a comedy instead?” she said, keeping her tone casual. “I’m in the mood for something light.”

Liam paused, his thumb hovering over the screen as he glanced at her. “Comedy?” His surprise was barely hidden, though he forced a small smile. “Sure. That’s fine with me.”

They settled on a rom-com, but Casey couldn’t help noticing the way he seemed to study her between scenes, a little more quiet than usual. He was clearly surprised, maybe even a bit thrown off. But, for the first time, Casey didn’t feel like shrinking back or apologizing for pushing a little. Instead, she just felt…certain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey stepped through the apartment door, her heels clicking on the floor as she set her bag down. She pulled off her blazer revealing a deep cut top, glancing at herself in the hallway mirror and feeling a little thrill. She looked… professional…different.

Liam looked up from the couch, his eyes widening as he took her in. “Wow,” he said, standing up. “You look… incredible. Where were you all day?”

A smile broke across her face as she walked over, hanging her blazer on the back of a chair. “I was at a law firm,” she said, smoothing down her crisp dress shirt. “I had an interview.”

“Wait, a law firm? An interview?” Liam blinked, looking as if he hadn’t quite heard her right. “What law firm? What for?”

“For an internship,” she said, still smiling. She felt a swell of excitement as she said the words. “This morning, it just… hit me, out of nowhere. I knew what I wanted to do. I want to be a lawyer.”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up. “Just… just like that?”

She nodded, her excitement building as she recounted the day. “Yes. I got up, got dressed, and went straight to the law offices downtown. I walked right in and asked if they had any internships available. I mean, I didn’t take no for an answer.”

Liam stared at her, clearly struggling to keep up. “And they just… hired you?”

Casey grinned, a little proud. “They did. A paid internship while I get my degree. The hiring manager even said she liked my… confidence.” She took a breath, as if reliving the thrill of that moment. “I just felt like I knew it was the right thing. So I went for it.”

Liam was quiet for a long moment, his expression shifting from surprise to something she couldn’t quite read. “So… you’re suddenly going to law school?” he asked, his voice tentative.

Casey shrugged, still feeling that steady certainty. “Yes. I mean, why not? I can handle it.”

He nodded slowly, his face still a mix of confusion and something else, something almost like apprehension. “It’s… a lot to take in. You’ve never talked about wanting to do that before.”

“Well, now I know it’s what I want.” She smiled, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “I’ve never felt this clear before, Liam. Isn’t it exciting?”

Liam returned her smile, though there was a hint of hesitation behind it. “It’s… definitely something.” 

Without breaking her gaze, she stepped closer, pressing her body against his, her hand trailing up to his chest.

“I’ve missed you today,” she murmured, her voice low. “And right now… I want you.”

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing away, his face tense. “Case, I don’t know… I’m not really in the mood right now.”

The words hit her like ice water, and she blinked, her hand pausing on his chest. Not in the mood? A twist of embarrassment mingled with surprise, leaving her momentarily speechless. They’d never been here before; Liam was always so open to her. Why would he say no?

But the embarrassment quickly melted, replaced by a simmering frustration. You know what you want; you deserve what you want. The familiar thought pushed back against the rejection, and she straightened, that tight, unyielding certainty hardening her resolve.

“Come on,” she urged, her voice growing firmer as she leaned in, brushing her lips along his jaw. “I want you, Liam. And I know you want me, too.”

Liam took a small step back, giving her a look that was half apology, half something she couldn’t quite place. “Casey… not tonight, alright? I’m just… not feeling it.”

For a moment, the refusal didn’t compute. She felt her jaw clench, her frustration rising even as a part of her tried to understand. Why would he turn me down?

Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I don’t get why you’re brushing me off.” She straightened, crossing her arms, her tone sharpening. “I want you, Liam. And you… you should want this, too.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his face tense. “I do… usually. It’s just… tonight’s been a lot, you know?” He gestured vaguely at her, as if she were somehow part of the problem. “You’ve changed so much in the last couple of days, and I’m trying to keep up. I just… I need a bit of time to adjust. That’s all.”

“Adjust?” She scoffed, her voice hardening. “What’s there to adjust to? So I know what I want now. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Of course it is, but…” He trailed off, frustration clear in his face. “But maybe I need a little space to wrap my head around all of it. You’re coming on so strong, and… I don’t know, Casey, it’s just… a lot.”

She took a step back, the sting of his words settling into her, unfamiliar and uncomfortable. She wanted him, she was clear about it—why should he hesitate? She felt herself bristle at the rejection, her jaw tightening as she held back a retort.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice icy. “If you’re not interested, then forget it.”

He looked down, his shoulders slumping a bit. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Case. It’s just… tonight, I need a little room. That’s all.”

But she was already heading toward the bedroom without another word, her frustration simmering hotly as she left him standing alone, looking after her in confusion and regret.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, Casey emerged from the bedroom, her heart still pounding with frustration. She had slipped into a figure-hugging dress, the kind she rarely wore around Liam, reserving it for occasions she wanted to feel bold, confident, sexy. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she’d touched up her makeup—darkened her lashes, painted her lips a rich, seductive red. She didn’t just look good. She looked powerful.

Liam, sitting at the kitchen table, glanced up from his phone, his eyes widening as he took her in. “Casey…” he began, his voice uncertain, a wary look in his eyes. “Going somewhere?”

“Maybe,” she replied, her voice smooth as silk. She took her time, crossing the room with purpose, letting him watch her, knowing exactly the effect she had on him. She could see his gaze waver, drifting over her, yet the hesitation lingered on his face.

“I thought we could pick up where we left off,” she said, her tone a mixture of suggestion and challenge. “Or… I can head out.”

Liam looked away, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “Casey, look, I… I told you. Tonight isn’t a good night for me. I just need a little time.”

Casey felt a surge of irritation rise again. You deserve what you want. The words repeated in her mind, steady and relentless, sparking something bold, almost reckless. She took a step closer, her gaze never leaving his.

“I don’t think you get it, Liam,” she said, her voice low, her tone tight. “I want you. And I don’t want to wait, I don’t want to be patient. I shouldn’t have to.”

He swallowed, looking up at her, clearly taken aback by her intensity. “Case, I… I get that. And I want you too. Just… not right this second. Can’t we talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about?” she replied, arching an eyebrow, challenging him to answer.

He hesitated, struggling for words. “This just… isn’t like you. You’ve always been easygoing, we never fight over stuff like this. I don’t know why this is suddenly so…” He shook his head, clearly at a loss. “I feel like I’m talking to a different person.”

She studied him, feeling the words echo in her mind, pushing her forward, unwilling to back down. She didn’t respond, but her silence said enough. If he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, then she’d get it elsewhere.

After a pause, she flashed a cold, daring smile. “Fine. If you don’t want this, I’ll find someone who does.”

She saw the shock flash across his face, but she didn’t wait for a response. She picked up her bag, slipped on her heels, and walked out the door without a backward glance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Casey found herself in a dim, crowded club. She moved through the crowd, cutting through the room with focused intent. She wasn’t here to waste time. She was here because she wanted something, and tonight she’d have it.

A man stepped into her path, flashing her a grin, his eyes drifting down to her dress. “Hey there,” he said, leaning in close. “You look like you could use a drink.”

She arched an eyebrow, sizing him up with a look that was more appraisal than interest. Attractive enough, sure, but the easy grin and lazy charm grated on her nerves. She could feel the words whispering through her mind, familiar and undeniable: You know what you want; you deserve what you want.

“If I wanted one,” she replied, her voice cold and dismissive, “I’d have gotten it myself.”

The man’s smile faltered, a flash of confusion crossing his face. He let out a nervous chuckle, still hovering too close for her comfort. “Just trying to be friendly.”

She didn’t bother hiding her irritation, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze, unflinching. “I don’t need you to try.”

Without waiting for a response, she brushed past him, her attention already shifting away, a thrill rising in her chest. She was done humoring anyone who couldn’t give her exactly what she wanted. As she let herself melt into the beat of the music, her eyes caught sight of another man watching her with clear intent.

Her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. Now this was more like it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Minutes later, Casey found herself pressed against the cool tile wall in the dimly lit bathroom of a club, her fingers tangled in the hair of a man she’d only met minutes before. 

Casey gasped as his hands tightened on her hips, pulling her even closer, her laughter turning into a low, sultry moan. “God, yes,” she breathed, her voice echoing off the tiled walls, “Just like that…”

The man grinned against her neck, and she could feel his breath, hot and ragged. “You like that?” he murmured, his tone a mix of confidence and awe, like he could hardly believe the enthusiasm she was giving him.

“Oh, you have no idea,” she replied, her lips curling into a smirk as her fingers slid over his shoulders. “I want this. I deserve this.”

She let out a soft, reckless laugh, her voice huskier than she’d ever heard it. “Don’t stop,” she commanded, her words sharp with hunger. “I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

As he obliged, she felt herself tip her head back, the orgasm ripping through her. “Yes, yes! That’s exactly what I needed,” she whispered, her voice brimming with satisfaction.

She was finally getting what she deserved, and she loved every second of it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was nearly three in the morning when Casey finally slipped her key into the lock and entered the apartment. She shut the door quietly, already kicking off her heels, when she looked up and froze. Liam was sitting on the couch, his face pale and exhausted, his eyes bloodshot as he looked up at her.

“Casey,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Where have you been?”

She rolled her eyes, pulling her bag off her shoulder and setting it on the table. “Out.”

He rose to his feet, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Out? You’ve been gone for hours. You didn’t answer your phone, you just… left. Do you have any idea what that’s been like?”

She shrugged, heading into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “I didn’t think you’d be waiting up. You made it pretty clear earlier you didn’t want anything to do with me tonight.”

Liam followed her, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and worry. “I told you I needed some space, not for you to disappear to…” He broke off, his gaze dropping to her, his face clouding with something deeper as he took in her disheveled appearance, her smeared lipstick, her flushed cheeks. “What… did you do tonight, Casey?”

She held his gaze, unflinching. “I wanted you, Liam,” she said, her tone unapologetic. “I made that pretty clear. You refused, so I found someone else who didn’t.”

The words hung in the air, cold and cutting, and she didn’t look away, letting him absorb them.

Liam’s face crumpled as the realization hit, his expression one of raw hurt. “You… you’re serious?”

She took a sip of water, unbothered by the tremor in his voice. “Look, I’m not going to pretend otherwise. I wanted something, and I got it. I don’t see why we have to make this a big deal.”

“A big deal?” His voice cracked, and he took a step back, running a hand over his face. “Casey, do you even hear yourself? You just… you went and slept with someone else, just like that, and now you act like it’s nothing?”

She sighed, her patience thinning. “Liam, you weren’t interested. I was. Why should I go without because you decided not to give me what I wanted?”

He stared at her, his face a mixture of anger, disbelief, and pain. “Because… we’re supposed to be together, Casey. We’re supposed to care about each other, to—”

“We do,” she interrupted, her voice flat. “But that doesn’t mean I should go without the things I want. I deserve to get what I want, Liam. I’m done feeling guilty about that.”

The weight of her words seemed to crush him. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a shaky breath, his eyes rimmed with tears. “I… I don’t know who you are anymore.”

She watched him, unfazed. “That’s not my problem.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next afternoon, Casey met Amy at their usual café. She strolled in, confident and calm, scanning the room until she spotted Amy at a corner table. But as she walked over, she could immediately tell something was off.

Amy looked up, her face tense, her lips pressed into a tight line. As soon as Casey sat down, Amy crossed her arms, fixing her with a hard stare.

“Casey,” Amy began, her voice low and serious. “What happened last night with Liam?”

Casey rolled her eyes, sighing. “Oh, I see he ran to you already. Guess he needed someone to cry to.”

Amy’s eyes flashed with hurt and anger. “Casey, don’t be like that. He was heartbroken when he called me. He told me what you did… what you said to him when you got home. I could barely believe it.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” Casey replied, shrugging, unfazed by Amy’s reaction. “I wanted something, he didn’t want to give it to me, so I found someone who would. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal?” Amy’s voice rose slightly, but she forced herself to stay calm. “Casey, you cheated on him. And you acted like it was nothing. That isn’t you. What happened to you?”

Casey scoffed, leaning back, folding her arms. “Maybe I’ve just decided to stop living for what others want, Amy. I deserve to get what I want. I’m not going to sit around waiting for Liam, or anyone else, to catch up with me.”

Amy shook her head slowly, her expression pained. “Casey… do you even remember who you used to be? The friend I knew would never have done this. Do you remember how you stayed up with me all night when I broke up with David? You went out of your way to make sure I felt okay, even though you had to work the next morning.”

Casey shrugged, waving her hand dismissively. “That was different.”

“Different?” Amy’s voice cracked, her eyes searching Casey’s for a trace of the friend she used to know. “Or how about last year, when Liam lost his job, and you helped him look for new ones? You were there for him through everything. You were kind, Casey. You actually cared about people.”

Casey’s mouth tightened as she felt a flicker of irritation rise, her jaw clenching. She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to remember it. You know what you want; you deserve what you want.

“People change, Amy,” she replied coldly. “Maybe I’ve just stopped letting everyone else’s problems weigh me down. I’ve moved on, and maybe you should too.”

Amy’s eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief. “You used to be the most caring person I knew. But now, you’re acting like everyone else should just fall in line because you’ve decided you’re entitled to anything you want.”

Casey’s face hardened. “I don’t need you or Liam lecturing me,” she snapped, her voice icy. “I’m finally going after what makes me feel good, and if that’s too much for you, maybe you should take a look at your own life.”

Amy’s face paled, her eyes wide with shock. “You know what? Fine,” she said, standing up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “But don’t come running to me when you realize you’ve pushed everyone who cares about you away.”

Casey met her gaze with a dismissive shrug. “If they can’t handle it, maybe I don’t need them anyway.”

Amy stood there for a moment, hurt and disbelief written across her face, before shaking her head and walking away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a few months later when Casey spotted Amy walking out of a bookstore. Casey’s heels clicked on the pavement as she approached, a slight smile playing on her lips as she adjusted the strap of her designer handbag. By her side was a man several years older, handsome and impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He paused as Casey turned toward Amy, observing the interaction with quiet interest.

Amy looked up, her eyes widening as she recognized Casey. “Casey?” She hesitated, glancing at the man at her side before looking back at Casey. “I… I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Hello, Amy,” Casey replied, her tone calm. She glanced at her companion and gave a faint nod, and he offered a polite smile before stepping away to give them some privacy.

Amy took in Casey’s appearance, the designer clothes and effortless confidence, and forced a small, bittersweet smile. “It’s been a while,” she said, folding her arms. “You seem… well.”

“I am,” Casey replied, her eyes fixed on Amy, unwavering. “And I’m glad I ran into you, actually.” She tilted her head, her expression softening slightly. “I’ve decided I want you back in my life, Amy. I want my best friend back.”

Amy let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Casey… I don’t know what you expect, but I don’t think that’s possible. You’re not the person I used to know. You’re not even the kind of friend I can relate to anymore.”

Casey’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it seemed to widen, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I know,” she said quietly, her voice edged with something unreadable.

Amy frowned, glancing down for a moment, but when she looked back up, Casey was studying her intently. “What—?” Amy started to ask, but then Casey murmured a phrase, a string of words that sounded strange and familiar all at once. Immediately, Amy’s vision blurred, and a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her.

Her hands reached out instinctively, one steadying herself on the brick wall beside her, the other gripping her temple. “Casey… what’s… happening?”

Casey took a step closer, her voice calm, almost soothing. “You see, Amy, after our last talk, I realized I deserved more than just a former friend. I deserved loyalty. I deserved my best friend back, and it turns out,” she smirked, “the hypnotherapist who helped you quit vaping was… very willing to help me, too. Just took a few compromising photos, and he was all too happy to follow my instructions.”

Amy’s dizziness intensified, her eyes unfocused as she struggled to process Casey’s words. She blinked, everything feeling hazy, as Casey’s voice continued.

“So, a few subtle sessions was all it took,” Casey said, her tone like silk. “One follow-up for vaping, another to help ‘reinforce’ your confidence, and I had him plant the right trigger. You see, Amy, I do know what I want, and I deserve what I want. I wanted you to be my best friend… forever.”

The dizziness began to ebb, and Amy slowly straightened, her movements controlled and precise. Her eyes focused, the uncertainty vanishing, replaced by a cold, devoted expression. She looked at Casey, her face suddenly serene, any trace of sadness or resistance erased. She flashed a smile devoid of warmth but filled with complete, unwavering loyalty.

“Casey,” Amy said softly, her voice calm and steady. “Of course. I’ll always be here for you.”

Casey’s own smile widened, satisfied. She took Amy’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I knew you would. After all, best friends are loyal. Isn’t that right?”

Amy nodded, her gaze locked on Casey’s, an unbreakable bond reflected in her eyes. “For now and always,” she replied, her voice a whisper.

Casey released her hand, and turned to welcome the man waiting for her.  As he approached, Casey’s ruthless smile lingered, knowing she finally had everything she wanted.

[rawbin-hsr]

Hi! Could i request Feixiao, Boothill, and Argenti with a s/o who has panic disorder (or panic attacks in general). Just generally how they react and such :)

@dragon-anon

A/N: Surprisingly I found this a little difficult IUESJhief I have a lot of experience with. having anxiety when I was younger. I think I was even diagnosed with it at some point ? Which is weird because I’m not diagnosed any longer and I no longer really get anxiety attacks so idk what the fuck that was erm. Anyways that’s beside the point. I really struggled to make Feixiao and Argenti different because I think they would handle it similarly (hence why Argenti’s part ended up so much shorter than the other two, cause I didn’t want to just. Repeat Feixiao’s whole part.) and I’m a little worried Boothill is ooc because I haven’t done the new quest and it seems like it showed a lot of his backstory so forgive me if I’m not up to date on that. Sorry about rambling I’ll get on with it now help

Reader has an anxiety disorder

Characters: Feixiao, Boothill, Argenti

Cw: anxiety/panic attacks (descriptions kept brief, not very detailed), slight mention of self-harm inflicting behaviours in Argenti's part (only reader unintentionally scratching themself, not necessarily done out of a desire to harm oneself).

Lmk if there's anything else I should add !

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

╭──────────.★..─╮ Feixiao ╰─..★.──────────╯

Oh she’s great 

Amazing at picking up your signals, amazing at assessing what course of action would help you most, amazing at following through with it

She can tell what sets you off, even without you telling her, and she has a lot of firsthand experience with handling other people’s anxiety (both from more intimate relationships and from soldiers she doesn’t exactly know on any personal level). It’s not hard for her to figure out what calms you down most quickly. 

Your episodes have never been shorter than they are with her around 🙏🙏

I’m not sure exactly how I imagine her handling it, because I think it switches a lot depending on what she knows about you. If she knows you find physical touch comforting, she’ll hold you and gently talk you down. If you’re the type who doesn’t need much reassurance, she’ll firmly remind you of where you are, that she’s with you, that you’re safe, etc, etc. She’ll find whatever solution works best for you. 

Apart from being great with damage control if you do have a panic attack, she’s also pretty good at preventing them from happening in the first place. 

If she recognises you’re stepping into an environment you’re likely to have an attack in, she’ll either steer you out of it if she can or she’ll make sure you’re in there for as little time as possible. Like, for example, if you’re bad with large crowds, she’ll usually just find a less packed road to take around the mass of people.

Obviously it’s unavoidable sometimes, and she won’t always be able to adhere to you completely because she does have a very important job that she can’t really put on hold for your sake, but like I said, she’s great at handling it then too. 

If something needs to be done but you can’t do it, she’ll do it for you (after gently trying to encourage you to face your fears and do it yourself — but she does quickly relent if she notices you really, really don’t want to)

10/10 would recommend she’s amazing

╭──────────.★..─╮ Boothill ╰─..★.──────────╯

I feel like Boothill would be absolutely dogwater at preventing any anxiety attacks from happening, but he’d be great at stopping them once they do happen

Like obviously he won’t trigger you on purpose but he won’t tiptoe around the things that put you off either. Both because he doesn’t usually have much choice in the matter considering his line of work, and because he believes in exposure therapy. And because he maybe sort of kind of forgets. 😭

But he’d be great while you’re in the middle of an anxiety attack ! So that counts for something !!!!

He always manages to snap you out of it pretty quickly. Takes you out of the situation once he recognises the signs that the attack is coming, then gets you present in the current moment again. How ? That’s very simple. He confuses the fuck out of you

You know that tip about making someone having an anxiety attack bite into a lemon ? Yeah

(If you haven’t heard about it: a way to snap someone out of a panic/anxiety attack can be to make them lick a really sour lemon without any warning. The sensory input is really overwhelming and the person having the episode might be so shocked by it they kind of just snap out of it because who the fuck makes you taste a lemon when you’re at your lowest like that ???)

You’re curled up in a ball, hyperventilating because there are too many people, too many sounds, too many what-have-you ? Not anymore, now you’re too busy being confused and lowkey angry at him for shoving an ice cube down your throat. Like wtf are you doing my guy

Usually his little stunts do the trick to get you out of that headspace, and then he can just verbally talk you down so you’re nice and calm again. Will let you cool off while he solves whatever issue it was that led to your anxiety attack. Don’t worry about it anymore, he’s got this. 

If he can’t confuse you out of it, though, he’ll just do whatever you’ve instructed him to do while lucid. If it’s hugging you and talking gently until you’re calm, he can do that. If it’s to just take you into a quiet space and let you ride it out, no problem. If it’s to just continue on and let you just stand next to him, sure. 

Only thing he won’t do is to avoid your triggers altogether. He can give you a heads-up when possible, he can let you sit it out if you really need to, but he won’t (in his words) “baby you”. In his opinion, you’ll never get over it if you just avoid it forever. 

He says it in a kind of harsh way, but there’s genuine care in his tone and his expression, so you know he doesn’t mean it like that. 

All in all I think Boothill is really great if you’re the resilient type and you have the kind of anxiety that can actually get better through treatment, but if you’re sensitive and need someone who actively helps you avoid your triggers I definitely wouldn’t recommend him 😭

╭──────────.★..─╮ Argenti ╰─..★.──────────╯

Obviously amazing at handling it is there anything he’s not good at ? 🙄 (/j)

He immediately becomes very serious when he realises your control is slipping, falls silent and looks at you worriedly. He recognises surprisingly quickly what’s happening, and steps into your field of view and crouches down, makes sure you can see his face. Takes both of your hands in his, wishes he didn’t have armour so he could let you feel his heartbeat.

He calmly talks you out of it. He sounds so sure of everything he does, to a point where you’ll question afterwards if he has firsthand experience with this. 

(He does. He used to experience a lot of anxiety and panic attacks as a child, it is only natural when you grow up surrounded by war; you’d never guess just looking at him now, though.)

He’ll obviously switch how he handles your panic attacks if you ask him to, but his default is to hold your hands (both to prevent you from accidentally scratching yourself, and to remind you he’s there) and to softly reassure you

I think he becomes sort of hyper aware of what triggers you, and does as much as he can to avoid it. Lowkey starts to baby you a little, but just a little, and even if it’s annoying it’s done with love, done out of a desire for you to be happy. It does put him in some tough spots though, considering it means he sometimes tells you to sit an adventure out, but the plan was for it to have the both of you and it’s harder to handle a lot of things alone 😭

Overall super good though I love him <3

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[sassenashsworld]

Hancock at Diamond City

(this one is not .... that canonical... I couldn't help...)

The List

John just can’t believe it. He cannot believe that his brother, whose blood and flesh he shares, is capable of such an abomination. But now this bastard is smiling at him with a carnal expression.

It’s too much for him. John can no longer bear the thought of being in the same room as him. Let this bastard have his damned town hall. John prefers to go back down to the ground of the city with the common people.

But as the elevator platform descends to the floor of the cows, all the horror of what is happening spreads out at his sight.

“Motherfuckers! They don’t even give people time!”

The guards of Diamond City, and probably several mercenaries hired for the occasion, are already seizing ghouls’ citizens of Diamond City. The Great Exile demanded by the electors is already beginning.

John wants to vomit.

The young man can’t believe what he’s seeing.

The people he has known for his entire life are being dragged out of their homes like trash, treated like criminals. They’re mostly old, and scared, and lost. Some of them have been here even before John's parents. He played with some of them as a child.

Two guards, holding Mister Carter by the arms, drag him away. He manages to turn around and look at John for a moment, his eyes wide and full of despair.

“Help us, Young McDonough, please!” the poor man exclaims, his voice quivering.

John’s heart clenches, and his eyes suddenly fill with tears at the sight. He struggles to keep his voice steady.

“Hang in there, Mr. Carter,” he says, trying to sound reassuring. “Just hang in there...”

Mister Carter tries to protest and resist, but the security guards drag him away without mercy. Some of the other ghouls in line watch this scene, desperation and terror etched on their faces.

In the chaos of the crowd, John sees a figure among the others. He has always relied on this figure as a beacon in the gloomy night, where his twisted mind can occasionally guide him. He leaps off and charges towards Nick Valentine, who is leaning his back against a wall and watching the guards drag the crowd with disapproving gazes.

Nick sees John running toward him from a distance; the expression on his face is enough to tell what’s going on in his mind. He knows the young McDonough too well; he knows that if he’s here, it’s to seek trouble.

“John,” he says as the man joins him.

“What the hell are you waiting for? Why don’t you do anything?”

The detective simply grabs the cigarette packet from the inside pocket of his coat and nods sadly. He’s giving the young boy a look in the corner.

“What the heck ya mean, exactly?”

John falls silent for a moment, staring at Nick with an almost outraged expression. He knows the detective can’t really change what is happening, but he wants to deny it desperately.

“Come on, Nick,” he stutters, his voice filled with frustration and anger. “There's got to be somethin’ we can do. This is madness!”

“This is nuts,” says the detective, lighting a cigarette. “The worst I’ve ever seen... for ages.” The poor synth shakes his head once more, then hands over his cigarette pack to John. “But there ain't nothin' we can do.”

John feels his anger coalesce into a ball of fury. He violently strikes the package that his friend has offered, causing it to drop on the ground.

“HOW DARE YOU? Those people need someone to stand and protect them!”

Nick remains passive, facing the outburst.

“What do ya want me to do? You think I can just shut down this whole town, huh? These folks don’t want them ghouls hangin’ around. I know it real good... They ain't lookin' for no synth neither. There ain't nothin' I can—

“No! I can’t buy it...” John interrupts, feeling a rage growing in his gut, ready to explode like a bomb. “We gotta do something!”

“We just can’t...” Nick sighed again sadly. “Unless we wanna end up in the same boat. We can't go against what the folks want, ya know? When ya gonna get it?”

“Never!” screams John, completely revolted.

He sees another well-liked and respected citizen.

“Mister Rodriguez!”

“No, John,” the old man stopped him before John said more. “I know what you think. We all think that. However, I have a wife and a son, so please understand.

The words of the old man hit John like a slap in the face. He stares at him, trying to find a hint of hope, a way out of the situation.

“But... but they can’t do this,” the boy stammers, still incredulous, as if he didn’t believe what was happening. “They can’t throw them out of their house like a sack of potatoes. They lived here all their life...”

Nick steps forward and puts his hand on John’s shoulder.

“We can't do nothin'—just nothin' at all. Otherwise, we woulda done it already, trust me.”

Mr. Rodriguez bows his head in shame, turning his back to the long line of ghouls that are escorted outside the city walls.

John stares in disbelief. Every fiber of his being screams at him to fight—to fight with nails and teeth. But there is that look in Nick’s eyes—that resigned look—that kills the last spark of hope in him. Because if even a rightful man as his mentor doesn’t bulge for the ghouls...

No! No, John can’t just look. He suddenly rushes to the nearest guard.

“John! NO!” Nick tries to dissuade him, but the stubborn young man doesn't stop for a moment in his crazy run. He hits the guard with full force, causing him to lose his balance and verbally protest.

“Hey!”

Another guard grabs John by the collar and puts him back on his feet.

“Easy, young McDonough. Don’t embarrass your brother.”

The other guard stands up in turn, glaring at him.

“You should go home. It’ll be over soon, don’t worry.”

John struggles against the guard's grip, trying to get free to lunge at them again.

“Let go of me! I hate you, you scumbag!" he screams, consumed by madness.

Nick runs into the fray and tries to get John to come back to his senses.

“Knock it off, for God's sake! Stop it!”

But John’s eyes are filled with anger. He doesn't hear the detective's words. All he can see are those guards forcing the poor old ghouls out of their homes.

“I hate you, you sons of bitches, damn you!” he continues to yell, trying to break free again.

Nick frees him from the guard's grasp and grabs him by the shoulders.

“You gotta listen to me. Listen up! Look at me, will ya?”

John stops fighting for a moment. He looks at Nick, his mind overwhelmed by anger.

“What?!” He replies, panting and clenching his teeth.

“Take it easy!” the detective begs. “Ya get what I'm sayin'? Take it easy, now. I get about it all, but if ya keep goin' like this...”

John's heart continues to beat fast, but his mind is starting to clear. He sees the guards watching him cautiously. But he doesn’t care. He knows Nick is right, but his anger continues to make his head boil.

“I…” John tries to control his breathing, still caught in a wave of rage. “I can’t...”

Nick nods, understanding.

“I get it... but ya gotta chill out, alright?”

He squeezes his shoulders, trying to ease his friend's anger.

“No, I can’t!” suddenly exclaims John. “I can’t stand still! I can’t accept!”

One of the guards approaches them, his hands clasped around his pistol. Nick notices and pulls John back. Not that he thinks they would dare to hurt the young brother of the mayor, but in this chaos, who knows?

“Easy, John…”

John looks at the guards, his heart pounding and his breath quickening again.

"Easy, my ass!" he exclaims, still fuming. “These guys are forcing people out of their homes! And you tell me to not do anything? They are people; they are!”

Nick tries to put himself in front of John and block his path, but the young man starts to push past him.

“Don’t be a knucklehead. Ya want 'em to shoot ya?”

“I don’t care!” the boy replies, already thinking about hitting the guard nearby again.

Nick knows he can’t stop him. If John wants to act like a madman, it’s just a matter of time before a tragedy occurs.

But all of a sudden, an authoritative voice intervenes.

A voice that John knows well.

“What’s going on here?”

John freezes and looks in the direction of the voice.

Standing a few steps away is his older brother, the Mayor McDonough.

“Brother,” John manages to say, still panting from the anger.

The mayor, however, isn't here to talk with his little brother. He doesn't even look at him. He just looks at the guards and then turns his icy gaze to Nick.

“Good evening, Mister Valentine,” he says in his formal, detached tone, looking at the synth as if he were a particularly unpleasant smell. But Nick doesn’t flinch. He knows the man too well.

“Mayor,” the detective answers in a calm tone. John, on the other hand, looks back and forth between his brother and the synthetic man, sensing that the situation is tensing.

The mayor smiles, revealing his teeth like a wolf about to pounce.

"I imagine you're concerned about the events of the day, given that you're not a full material of Diamond City yourself, right?" he asks, almost mockingly. 

Nick raises an eyebrow. He clearly didn’t expect this kind of jab from the mayor. He looks at him for a few moments before responding.

“You got a point,” he replies, his voice still calm.

The young McDonough watches silently, still seething.

The mayor continues to glare at Nick for a few more moments, as if expecting him to flinch. Seeing that the synth remains stoic and unperturbed, he decides to turn his attention to John.

“And what about you,” he says, looking at his brother with a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "Why are you making such a fuss?"

The younger McDonough grits his teeth but remains silent. He looks at Nick for a moment, and the detective gives him a look that says, "Let me take care of it."

The older man stares at his brother.

“Don’t you have something better to do? Go somewhere else and hang out with the drifters like the loser you are or find some whore to blow off some steam.”

John’s anger begins to rise again, but Nick steps in before he does anything stupid.

“He’s just concerned about the... events, that’s all.”

The mayor looks at the synth, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Of course he is. He has always been so... emotional.” He stares at his young brother for another moment before speaking again. “And what exactly is he so concerned about, pray tell?”

John can’t hold back for long.

“You know damn well what I’m concerned ab—

Nick grabs his arm, stopping him from getting closer to his brother. John looks at him with furious eyes, but the detective shakes his head discreetly.

The mayor looks at John with a sardonic smile, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Yes? Tell me then, little brother. What’s bothering you so much?”

John is shaking with anger, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. He wants to punch this bastard so bad that it hurts. But Nick keeps his hand on his shoulder, holding him firmly in place.

The mayor continues to wait for an answer. He's clearly enjoying the sight of his brother struggling to control his anger. Nick, however, notices the guards on the side starting to get restless. They’re starting to worry about the situation.

But John sees red. The mere mockery in his brother’s voice drives him to the edge.

“Damn you,” he growls, trying to rip his arm free from Nick’s grasp. “Damn you, you hypocrite!”

The mayor’s smile widens.

“I'm a hypocrite, am I?” he replies, taking on a falsely hurt tone. “Don’t you think you’re taking it a bit too seriously, little brother? I'm just performing a little civic duty for the good of the city.”

John can no longer contain himself and tries more than ever to shake off Nick's hand, his eyes fixed on the face he now despises.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he growls. “You don’t care about the city; you only care about yourself! You’re nothing more than a selfish, opportunistic bastard!”

The other man lets out a mocking laugh.

“Opportunistic? I prefer the term prudent.” He steps closer to John, their faces almost touching. “And it seems to me that I'm doing something much more useful and productive than you, brother.”

John feels like he could explode at any moment.

“Doing something useful?” he retorts, his voice filled with rage. “You're kicking innocent people out of their homes, throwing them into the Wastes, and you call it useful? You call it productive?”

John's chest heaves with fury, wanting to bite his brother's face. The mayor continues to smile, seemingly unperturbed by the youth reaction.

"Oh, come on," he says in a theatrical tone. “Ghouls. Innocent. Isn't that a bit of an oxymoron? They're ghouls, brother. They don't deserve any better than living out there, in the wasteland, among their own kind. That's just the way things are.”

John suddenly stops struggling in Nick’s hands, and the synth feels it very, very badly. The boy then raises his voice, his expression so white that it appears to be almost devoid of emotion.

“You’re right about one thing, brother. I’m better with drifters and those who are not like you. Anywhere, away from you and your kind.” He suddenly leaps out of the grip of Nick, who fails to catch him this time. “Never, do you hear me? I will NEVER SET FOOT IN THIS CITY AGAIN!”

The mayor smiles at John, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Suit yourself,” he replies, feigning indifference. “And don’t bother coming back, either. This city doesn't need people like you, and we certainly don’t need your... dubious associates.”

Nick throws the man a glance, feeling very well the treat, but stays silent, a grim look on his face.

John doesn’t cast a shadow of a glance over his shoulder as he moves forward with a determined step toward the line of ghouls that continues to be taken out of the city.

The mayor watches him go with a sardonic smile, like a snake ready to strike again.

“Good riddance,” he comments with satisfaction.

Nick, filled with worry, follows John, wishing he could stop him and talk some sense into him.

“John, hold up a sec...”

But John ignores him. His eyes are fixated on the line of ghouls, many of whom are too weakened to walk and are being dragged by the security guards.

There is nothing beyond that point that could change John’s mind.

His time in Diamond City is over.

His life as John McDonough, the younger brother of Guy McDonough, has come to an end.

Never again.

The Great Green Jewel will never again see his face.

[codgod]

found some perfect cc for my qslime sim but the textures glitch when i try to layer clothes </3

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[mcybree]

considering my brand is bitching about FH all day, sometimes I feel bad at convincing myself wcsmp didn’t end well for scott and milo. Like damn girl leave him with SOMETHING…

[revelboo]

you producing first so quickly has me inspired to start writing again

That’s awesome! Writing is an escape for me. It can feel like work sometimes, but these are just for fun and I missed writing things that didn’t need to be perfect or meticulously planned out

My Favorite Accident Pt 3

TFP Knockout x Reader

• Slowly following at a distance, he can’t understand why you wouldn’t just let him permanently take care of the problem, namely that other human who’d dared lay hands on you. And because that man’s still alive, he’s had to tail you to make sure you get home safely. While he doubts the man will go anywhere near you after a run in with him, it still bothers him. That uncertainty that something might happen to you if he’s not there as he keeps remembering the fear in your eyes. Realizing that you’re not as tough as you act. No one gets to frighten you like that, except maybe him.

• Pulling into the apartment complex, you press your head back against the headrest. Your nerves finally catching up to you during the drive, leaving your hands faintly trembling at what might have happened. At what likely would have happened if not for Knockout. And maybe he’s right and you should have let him take care of Ricky, but siccing your big, alien racing buddy on that idiot didn’t exactly sit well with you. And there’s that baffling, snarling protectiveness of Knockout’s to figure out, too. He’d been furious, more than ready to stomp the guy just for touching you. Like having your own giant, psychotically violent bodyguard.

• This is where you live? Headlights dimmed, his engine snarls. While he doesn’t claim to know much about human dwellings, this building looks like it’s seen better days. Actually, it looks like burning it down would be doing you a favor. Especially when he sees the other residents lingering outside watching you. Absolutely not. Shifting on his tires, he watches you park and get out, lifting a hand in greeting to the group hanging out. But also reaching back to where you keep that pitiful little knife. That unconscious gesture rubbing him the wrong way and driving home that this place isn’t safe for you and you know it.

• A few more race wins and you’ll have enough for a down payment on a better apartment. Letting yourself inside, there’s time to shower and change, then you’re falling into bed. Too aware that your little extra rendezvous with Knockout have cut your sleep time to five hours, then it’s up for your day job. Every penny you can get going toward getting out of here. Because what would that be like? To not be scared all the time, shuddering as the guys hanging out in the front start yelling at each other and you pull a pillow over your head. Eventually someone calls the cops on them as another unit gets off third shift and cranks rock and roll to rattle your windows.

• He knows he’s been gone too long from the Nemesis, that he’s going to be missed, but hates leaving you here in this pit forsaken cesspool you apparently call home. It bothers him enough he stays the night, watching the drama unfolding right outside your door and getting angrier and angrier, because this is unacceptable. And he’s going to have to do something about it.

Previous

[wifegideonnav]

homestuck is getting SAD and i don’t WANT THIS i want to read about shitty children lovingly bullying each other i don’t want to watch them sobbing over each other’s corpses :/

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff

Just a few suggestions. You shouldn’t have to compromise your writing style and voice with any of these, and some situations and scenes might demand some stiff or jerky writing to better convey emotion and immersion. I am not the first to come up with these, just circulating them again.

1. Vary sentence structure.

This is an example paragraph. You might see this generated from AI. I can’t help but read this in a robotic voice. It’s very flat and undynamic. No matter what the words are, it will be boring. It’s boring because you don’t think in stiff sentences. Comedians don’t tell jokes in stiff sentences. We don’t tell campfire stories in stiff sentences. These often lack flow between points, too.

So funnily enough, I had to sit through 87k words of a “romance” written just like this. It was stiff, janky, and very unpoetic. Which is fine, the author didn’t tell me it was erotica. It just felt like an old lady narrator, like Old Rose from Titanic telling the audience decades after the fact instead of living it right in the moment. It was in first person pov, too, which just made it worse. To be able to write something so explicit and yet so un-titillating was a talent. Like, beginner fanfic smut writers at least do it with enthusiasm.

2. Vary dialogue tag placement

You got three options, pre-, mid-, and post-tags.

Leader said, “this is a pre-dialogue tag.”

“This,” Lancer said, “is a mid-dialogue tag.”

“This is a post-dialogue tag,” Heart said.

Pre and Post have about the same effect but mid-tags do a lot of heavy lifting.

They help break up long paragraphs of dialogue that are jank to look at

They give you pauses for ~dramatic effect~

They prompt you to provide some other action, introspection, or scene descriptor with the tag. *don't forget that if you're continuing the sentence as if the tag wasn't there, not to capitalize the first word after the tag. Capitalize if the tag breaks up two complete sentences, not if it interrupts a single sentence.

It also looks better along the lefthand margin when you don’t start every paragraph with either the same character name, the same pronouns, or the same “ as it reads more natural and organic.

3. When the scene demands, get dynamic

General rule of thumb is that action scenes demand quick exchanges, short paragraphs, and very lean descriptors. Action scenes are where you put your juicy verbs to use and cut as many adverbs as you can. But regardless of if you’re in first person, second person, or third person limited, you can let the mood of the narrator bleed out into their narration.

Like, in horror, you can use a lot of onomatopoeia.

Drip Drip Drip

Or let the narration become jerky and unfocused and less strict in punctuation and maybe even a couple run-on sentences as your character struggles to think or catch their breath and is getting very overwhelmed.

You can toss out some grammar rules, too and get more poetic.

Warm breath tickles the back of her neck. It rattles, a quiet, soggy, rasp. She shivers. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. Sweat beads at her temple. Her heart thunders in her chest. Ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump-ba- It moves on, leaving a void of cold behind. She uncurls her fists, fingers achy and palms stinging from her nails. It’s gone.

4. Remember to balance dialogue, monologue, introspection, action, and descriptors.

The amount of times I have been faced with giant blocks of dialogue with zero tags, zero emotions, just speech on a page like they’re notecards to be read on a stage is higher than I expected. Don’t forget that though you may know exactly how your dialogue sounds in your head, your readers don’t. They need dialogue tags to pick up on things like tone, specifically for sarcasm and sincerity, whether a character is joking or hurt or happy.

If you’ve written a block of text (usually exposition or backstory stuff) that’s longer than 50 words, figure out a way to trim it. No matter what, break it up into multiple sections and fill in those breaks with important narrative that reflects the narrator’s feelings on what they’re saying and whoever they’re speaking to’s reaction to the words being said. Otherwise it’s meaningless.

—

Hope this helps anyone struggling! Now get writing.

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

[zephyrchama]

[Thoughts about an MC who gets periods]

Getting periods in the Devildom must be pretty rough. Demons probably don’t get them, and the number of humans freely wandering around has to be incredibly low. If MC takes the form of a sheep then they likely don't have to deal with it immediately, but eventually that's going to wear off and they'll revert back to a human. Does the Devildom even have pads and tampons for sale?

MC might have to sheepishly ask Barbatos if he can acquire some in bulk from the human world. Barbatos would remain professional as always when inquiring about the use of these products and their role in daily life. He'd have to report it to the prince. They're both aware of what periods are, but only in a vague "oh yeah, humans do that" kind of way. (Perhaps in the future, Lucifer could use his secret Akuzon account to order more?)

There's surely some plant or potion that prevents them, but they're not meant for long term use. Probably tastes nasty over time and covers human skin in a weird oozing rash if consumed too often.

A month or two into the exchange program, MC might have to call up Solomon for aid.

---

“Can you help me with something?”

Solomon, not too interested in MC yet, agrees just to be amicable with his fellow human exchange student. They must be scared! They must be missing humans! “Is something on your mind?”

“You know how to do magic, right?”

What a silly question. It’s almost refreshing to hear. “I do.”

“Do you know… like, uh, smell…? Reducing magic? Something to cover up smells? Without being obvious, I mean. I feel like I stink and I was really hoping you could help me figure something out.”

How cute, he thinks. He can’t quite remember the time when he smelled fully human anymore, and he can’t really smell the distinct odor on people that demons can, but he knows demons can easily sniff out a human from afar. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It should go away on its own as you spend time here.”

MC isn’t convinced. “I don’t think it will…”

“Trust me. How are you finding Devildom cuisine? I know you’re not used to it, but eating more will help you adjust. I can whip up a few simpler dishes for you to try if you need help.”

MC is silent for a bit. Solomon thinks his job is done until they say quietly, “that’s not the problem.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure the brothers I live with can smell, uh, my cycle.” No use being coy about it, better get straight to the point. “They stare at me when I’m on my period. I think - no, I know - they can smell the blood. I’ve seen them sniff the air when I’m around. It's weird. And I can’t exactly stop it from happening every month.”

“Oh.” Now it’s Solomon’s turn to be quiet. He’s embarrassed and surprised, a little humbled, and also really interested in this problem. It’s not something he’s ever thought about before.

MC continues, “I think they can tell when I’m ovulating too, Asmo started lingering around more often, and Lucifer looked scarier than usual, and they all stare more, and-”

“I think I get it.” Solomon can’t stop his face from turning pink. Despite his usual grin, he doesn't think he’s ready to listen to the rest of MC’s sentence.

There should be an easy solution, but it’s something that warrants testing if MC doesn’t want the brothers noticing a sudden spell cast upon them. It could get mistaken for something malicious. Solomon says, “I might be able to help. Can you come over today?”

[sunniques]

— 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ?

➺ PAIRING: lee heeseung x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepbrother au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: the story of how your stepbrother’s girlfriend realizes her boyfriend has never really been hers.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, possessiveness, heeseung can lift reader, cucking kink, voyeurism, masturbation (f), oral sex (f), fingering, face sitting, unprotected sex, creampies

➺ WC: 4.6k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

A lot of people find your relationship with your stepbrother cute. How could they not? He’s always so doting and protective like a real brother would be. In spite of being only slightly older, Heeseung takes on a very important role in your life. He constantly goes out of his way to take care of you, making sure you have anything you could possibly need.

Heeseung’s girlfriend never thought too much about the relationship between you two. It was natural that he took the naive college freshman under his wing and constantly had you by his side. Mina found it endearing, actually. The way he worried about you like a mother hen who wasn’t ready for her young chick to go into the world alone is adorable and a good sign. After dating so many inconsiderate losers, she thinks she’s finally chosen the right guy.

But somewhere along the way, Mina starts to grow tired of it. Time has gone by, and you’re no longer a naive freshman who can’t get around without her boyfriend’s help. Of course family is important, but it’s not like you’re entirely helpless. And yet, that’s exactly the way Heeseung acts. He’s always ready to drop everything when you need him. On several humiliating occasions, he’s even left her half naked on his bed just to go to you because you bought something you couldn’t figure out how to put together, or because you wanted to hang out with him.

It’s hard for Mina to admit that she’s a little jealous. Especially because it all seems so ridiculous. There’s no way her boyfriend actually wants you like that. But as time goes on, she thinks that maybe she’s not all that crazy. Especially with the affectionate way her boyfriend looks at you. Despite all this, Mina doesn’t say anything. At least, not until Heeseung starts to bring you along to what were meant to be dates.

“Babe, why do you keep bringing your stepsister? i thought we were going on a date?” It’s hard for her to not sound bitter and annoyed.

“Her roommate is going to visit her parents, and I don’t want Y/N to be alone.” His tone is kind and gentle like always, but it’s also firm and leaves no room for arguments.

What’s worse is that Mina can’t bring herself to hate or blame you. In a way, she understands why her boyfriend is always so concerned about you. You’re so nice and trusting that it would be way too easy for someone to take advantage of that. There’s also the fact that you’ve been more than willing to let them have some alone time, but Heeseung never lets you leave.

It’s all so strange and frustrating that Mina feels like she has to take matters into her own hands. So she does.

The key to Heeseung letting you go is getting you a boyfriend—or at least getting you to start dating. It’s easy enough to find a guy who’s interested in you. That’s never been a problem for you, and all it takes is her showing your picture to the cute guy in her communications class for her plan to fall into place. As luck would have it, you’re also into meeting the guy and going out with him.

Little did Mina know, setting you up with him would be a mistake that would cost her everything.

On the night you’re meant to meet up with her classmate, Mina excitedly goes to her boyfriend’s apartment. It’s been a long time since she got to be alone with Heeseung, and she was going to make the most of it.

She’s dressed in tiny tank top and a cute little skirt that Heeseung loves—it barely hides the lingerie she’s wearing underneath. Mina quietly lets herself into her boyfriend’s apartment using her spare key. Quietly, she tiptoes to his room only to find the door wide open. What she doesn’t expect is to find you sitting on his the edge of bed while Heeseung kneels in front of you.

Mina feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on her as his pretty hands rub your soft thighs. You look incredible, clad in a cute little dress with your makeup and hair done to perfection. It’s a mistake for Mina to keep watching, but she can’t find her voice at the moment.

“Seungie, what’s wrong?”

God, Mina hates that you call him that. Mostly because she can tell how much Heeseung likes it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out to meet some guy?” Heeseung sounds almost venomous, but it’s like you don’t hear it. “Who is he? How’d you meet him?”

You tilt your head, pretty lips pulled down in a confused frown. “Didn’t Mina tell you? She set me up with a guy from her class. He’s really cute!”

A chill goes down Mina’s spine. She can see Heeseung’s back tense when you tell him how your date came to be. The air feels almost murderous as he gently squeezes your thighs.

It kills Heeseung that he was almost too late in stopping you from meeting some strange guy in the pretty little dress you have on. He softly rubs your thighs, eyes simmering with anger and desire he doesn’t care to hide. Not anymore.

“Oh, angel.” Your stepbrother murmurs, hands slowly trailing up to your thighs. “You know you’re my favorite girl, right?”

An unsuspecting smile graces your lips. “Yeah. And you’re my favorite guy.”

Heeseung hums in satisfaction as his fingers ghost the edges of your dress. He watches your eyebrows furrow, but you don’t say anything. As always, you have blind trust in your stepbrother. That’s all the indication he needs to get up and push you down on his bed. Heeseung hovers over you, loving how you’re staring up at him with sparkling, wide eyes. He swoops down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Your heart is racing in your chest as Heeseung forces his tongue into your mouth. Despite the initial shock, you quickly melt into the kiss. He swallows your moans, pulling you closer as he deepens the messy kiss. You mewl into his mouth, carding your fingers through his hair with desire you had never realized you had for him.

Meanwhile, Mina can only watch as her boyfriend kisses you with a passion that he clearly never felt for her. It feels like her heart is ripping in half as Heeseung begins to undress you. Tears well up in her eyes when he groans at the sight of the lingerie adorning your body. Mina can see how hard he is from where she’s standing, and the desire in his eyes is very different from the way he looks at her.

“Can’t believe you got all pretty for some other boy.” Heeseung spits as he starts to undress. “Were planning on letting him fuck you?”

You shake your head and go to speak, but you can’t when Heeseung roughly pulls off your lingerie then his own underwear. His cock is thick and big, possibly the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s twitching and leaking as he looks at you with his dark eyes.

“W-We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whine as Heeseung shoves your thighs to your stomach and licks a broad stripe up your wet pussy.

Your stepbrother groans at your sweet taste, thrusting his tongue into your dripping hole. He laps up the juices leaking out of your slit, circling his tongue on your clit for good measure. The noise you let out is downright pornographic and pure music to Heeseung’s ears.

“Seungie!” You keen as you spread your legs and tangle your hands in his messy hair. “I– Fuck!”

Heeseung pulls back with a wet slurp to spread your cunt open with his big hands. “God. You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, angel. Just had to taste it.”

Each one of his words is like a dagger to Mina’s heart and confidence. Wet tears trickle down her face, but she doesn’t say anything as you pull on her boyfriend’s hair. Heeseung only moans and dives back into your slick cunt. He greedily laps up everything that drips out of you, sucking and kissing your clit.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Hee.” You repeat through a needy mewl, making no attempt to stop him. In fact, you buck your pussy into his mouth as he sucks on your sensitive bud.

“Shh, angel.” Heeseung shushes as he flicks his tongue across your swollen bud. “Just relax and let me eat you out. Been wanting to do this for so long.”

Mina swallows thickly, the hurt slowly being replaced by something else. Her eyes grow bigger when she realizes which feeling is taking over. She shifts slightly, feeling a familiar wetness begin to pool in her panties. Mina feels sick that the sight of her boyfriend cheating on her can turn her on, and she thinks that she should leave right now and never return.

But she stays.

Mina licks her lips and continues to watch. Even she can’t help but think how hot you look, whimpering and writhing as Heeseung pushes your thighs apart so he can bury his face deeper in your pussy. He flicks his tongue, slowly descending until he’s lapping at your hole, slowly fucking the wet muscle in and out. Your eyes roll back as your stepbrother eats your pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

The sounds coming from your pussy and the way Heeseung messily eats you out has Mina’s own cunt clenching with need. She can feel her underwear start to stick to her cunt as she watches her boyfriend lap up your arousal like a starved man. Mina bites her lip, feeling sick and twisted for being turned on by your pretty moans.

Heeseung suddenly pulls away, but not before he slaps your thigh playfully. He goes to lay on his back all while wearing a filthy smirk. “Sit on my face.”

You bite your lip as a hot flash of arousal pulses through your body. Both your and Mina’s cunts throb at the suggestion. Heeseung sees your hesitation, but doesn’t back down.

“C’mon, baby. Be a good little stepsister and ride my fucking face.” He growls out with dark eyes.

With your pussy dripping, you crawl over to him and kneel over his face. Mina watches with heated eyes as you slowly lower your cunt on her boyfriend’s face. The heat in her stomach grows when she hears Heeseung groan in satisfaction.

“That’s it. I want your pretty pussy suffocating me.”

With that, your stepbrother grabs your hips and pulls your cunt down onto his face with a groan. Mewling quietly, you rub your cunt all over his mouth. Every time he moans or grunts, it sends little vibrations through your pussy. The delicious feeling has you grinding down on his tongue as you chase that feeling. Heeseung eagerly fucks his wet muscle into your hot cunt, already addicted to your sweet taste.

Mina swallows thickly when he sees Heeseung thrusting into the air as he eats you out. His cock is leaking and throbbing with need. Fuck. How she’d like to go and lick all that up, to have him fuck her mouth as he fucks you with his tongue. Mina rubs her thighs to soothe the growing ache in her pussy as she watches you ride Heeseung’s face.

Your eyes roll back when your stepbrother slaps your ass. A loud squeal spills from your lips as Heeseung keeps fucking his tongue up into your cunt. He grabs your ass and kneads it roughly. With one last groan and flick of his tongue, he sits up and takes you with him. The effortless display of strength turns both women on, one containing her moan while the other cries out as she’s pressed back into the mattress.

“Such a sweet little cunt.” Heeseung moans as he buries his face back into your dripping cunt. “Shit, Y/N. You’re fucking soaked down here.”

“Heeseung!” You cry out as he pries your thighs further apart. Your stepbrother shakes his head to grind his tongue against your sensitive cunt.

“Fuck, you have the hottest little pussy.” Heeseung lifts his head with a groan, lips shiny with your arousal. “Missed eating some good pussy. It’s been so long.”

Mina feels pathetic that her cunt throbs at his degrading words. She bites her lip, hands trailing up her thigh and to her soaked underwear. It’s so filthy and humiliating, but the ache in her pussy is getting to be too much. She slowly rubs circles on her covered cunt as she keeps watching her boyfriend cheat on her.

“Fuck, Seungie.” You mewl desperately. “S-Shouldn’t like having your face buried in my cunt.”

Heeseung smirks into your wetness. He gently circles his tongue on your clit, kissing it tenderly before he gently starts to nip at it with his teeth. Mina shoves her panties aside when you moan out in pleasure. Now she’s furiously rubbing at her bare pussy, wanting to see you cum on her boyfriend’s face.

“But you do, baby. You like me fucking you with my tongue, and I fucking love eating this sweet little pussy.”

Your hips buck up at the words, grinding your cunt against his mouth as you moan for him. Juices drip out of you lewdly, leaking down to your ass and onto Heeseung’s sheets. Your head is swimming with pleasure, and you have to remember that this is all so very wrong.

“You like that?” Heeseung teases you, loving how you’ve turned into putty in his hands. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you like your stepbrother telling you how much he loves tasting your juicy cunt?”

Your back arches when Heeseung sucks your puffy bud into his mouth. “God—yes! Feels so fucking good, Hee! Love having your mouth on my pussy.”

Heeseung growls, the vibrations making your cunt throb as he sucks and licks your swollen clit. Eager to have you cum on his tongue, he slips two fingers into your fluttering hole. Mina follows in suit, unable to take her eyes off the erotic sight of you getting ate out and fingered. Fuck. This was better than any porn she had ever watched. Her hand is dripping with her own arousal, and she can’t even feel disgusted anymore that she’s so turned on by the entire situation.

“Mmmh, shit, Hee.” You whine as the tips of his fingers brush against the gummy spot inside you. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Do it, baby. Cream all over my tongue.” He purrs in delight. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Heeseung flattens his tongue on your clit while his fingers grind into the spongy spot in your cunt. Your back arches off the bed, orgasm whiting out your thoughts as you cum around his long fingers.

Mina has to cover her mouth as Heeseung moans along with you. By now she’s shoved her fingers into her sopping pussy, the squelching sound is drowned out from the sounds coming from your own pussy. The filthy sight is driving her wild, and she’s so delirious with arousal that she wishes Heeseung would just fuck you already.

“You’re amazing, angel.” Your stepbrother praises with his fingers still buried knuckle deep in your pussy as he softly strokes your velvety walls. “So soft and wet. It makes me want to shove my dick into your tight little hole.”

Heeseung slowly pulls his fingers out of you, and you can only watched with a lidded gaze as he moves his body between your thighs. His cock is twitching and leaking as he grabs the base. He smacks his cock down on your slippery pussy, dragging his drooling tip up and down your slit slowly. Mina has to press her hand into her mouth harder to stifle her filthy moans. The sight of her boyfriend pressing his drooling cockhead into your soaking pussy is so hot she might just cum all over her fingers.

“S-Seungie—fuck. We shouldn’t.” You whimper as he leans forward and braces his arms by your head.

You and Mina both know you don’t really mean your words. It’s clear that you want your stepbrother to split you open on his big cock. That becomes obvious when you don’t try to stop him as he shoves his cock into your pussy until he bottoms out completely, balls pressing against your ass. Shuddering with pleasure, you scratch your nails up his arms as you sink into the bed.

“Pretty pussy was meant to take my cock.” Heeseung growls, already drunk on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his dick. “Fuck. I know it’s wrong, baby, but I just couldn’t help myself. Your hot little cunt was just begging for my dick. Doesn’t it feel all nice and full having your pussy stuffed with your stepbrother’s big cock?"

Mina starts fucking herself harder when you nod desperately. Your hands go to tangle in his hair as you grind your hips up to meet his thrusts. “Yes! Fuck! Love my stepbrother’s cock stretching me open! Feels so fucking good, Hee!”

Mina knows better than anyone how good you must feel. Although, she imagines you feel must better than she ever did because from the way Heeseung’s fucking you, she can tell he’s doing it with much more enthusiasm and passion. Even his moans are more guttural and full of more pleasure than she’d ever heard. They’re deep as he pulls out until just his tip is spearing you open. Then, he pushes forward, thrusting his cock deep into your fluttering walls.

“That’s it. Tell me how good it feels.” Heeseung leans down, lips brushing against yours. “Don’t be shy, angel. Let me know how much you like this cock fucking you.”

You gasp wantonly and pull him down further to press your lips together. He groans and licks into your mouth easily, tongue slipping past your lips as his cock thrusts deep into your hot, wet cunt. Your hips buck up to meet his, loving how his dick rams into your sweet spot over and over until your sight is painted with pretty little stars.

“Fucking love it, Hee.” You moan between sloppy kisses. “God—I love your cock!”

The coil in Mina’s stomach is close to snapping. By now, her juices are dripping down to her wrist. Luckily, the lewd squelching and sound of skin slapping together drown out any noise she’s making. Heeseung is fucking you so hard and good that she can smell the musky scent of sex from where she’s standing. The erotic aroma turns her on even more, pussy clamping down on her fingers in desperate need of release.

“Tight little pussy feels so good.” Heeseung moans out between the quick pecks he’s giving you. “God, I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

Your heart races as Mina’s breaks all over again. It hurts, but somehow that just turns her on even more. She keeps fingering herself as tears pool in her eyes.

With a low moan, your pussy clamps down on Heeseung’s dick tightly as you go to eagerly kiss him. A soft I love you, too goes unnoticed by Mina, but not by your stepbrother. He groans into your mouth, cock throbbing inside you.

“Mmmh.” Heeseung hums against your lips before he trails wet kisses down your neck. “I love my gorgeous girl. That’s why this feels so good. Even your tight little pussy knows how much I love you.”

His gorgeous girl? Mina thinks deliriously, orgasm dangerously close. It’s something he never referred to her as.

You cry out loudly when Heeseung bites your neck and sucks the skin into his mouth. His hips rock against yours, balls smacking against your ass as his pelvis grinds down on your swollen clit.

“Seungie!” You whine in ecstasy. “I’m getting close.”

Your stepbrother doesn’t let up. In fact, his thrusts seem to get faster and rougher. His cock pistons in and out of your cunt, creating sloppy wet sounds as you get even wetter. His eyes are dark as he pulls back to look at you, all pretty squirming and trembling on his cock.

“Cum for me, baby. Cover my cock with your sweet cream so I can fill you up.” Heeseung pants. “Cum on my cock, angel.”

His teeth sink into your neck again, and it pushes you over the edge. Your hot cunt throbs as you squeeze down on his cock. Somehow your pussy only gets tighter and tighter as you get fucked through your orgasm. You tighten your legs around his waist until he can barely pull out, rutting his cock in short shallow thrusts as your climax starts to taper off.

“So fucking tight.” Heeseung hisses by your ear. “Shit, baby. Get ready. I’m about to creampie your cute little pussy. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

With a strangled grunt, he buries his cock to the hilt and shoots his load deep inside your fluttering walls while your pussy softly milks him for every drop of his hot cum. Mina reaches her own climax when she sees her boyfriend cumming inside you. She has to stifle her moans as she trembles and shakes outside the room that’s filled with the smell and sounds of hot sex.

“You’re taking it so well, angel.” Heeseung kisses your jaw tenderly as his fat tip spurts rope after rope of his thick cum into your clenching heat. “Milking my cock like I knew you would.”

He grinds his hips down, cock pulsing as he finishes stuffing you full of his hot, sticky load. Your stepbrother fucks his cum inside a bit more before reluctantly pulling out. Heeseung’s cock throbs as he watches his seed drip from your messy pussy.

He licks his lips, heated gaze never leaving your body. “Let’s do it again.”

You don’t try to protest as your manhandles into a different position. Mina is still coming down from her high when she realizes her boyfriend is still hard and about to fuck you again. She knows she shouldn’t feel excited or aroused by the fact, but she does. Especially when your face is shoved into one of Heeseung’s pillows just before his big cock rails back into your needy pussy.

Heeseung starts fucking you so hard his headboard slams into the wall repeatedly. The harsh sound pairs well with the plop plop plop sound coming from your cunt.

“God, Y/N. You’re so fucking good for me.” Heeseung groans when you clench down on him.

You moan loudly, bouncing yourself back on his cock. “Fu-Fuck, Seungie. This is wrong. We s-shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.” Your stepbrother smacks your ass, not sounding the least bit remorseful. “It’s so dirty baby, but I couldn’t help myself. Had to get my dick wet using your pretty little pussy.”

“Mmmh!” You whine out mindlessly, face turned to the side with your ass raised in the air for Heeseung to fuck deeper into your wet hole. “Feels so fucking good!”

“Yeah, it does.” Heeseung’s laugh sounds almost mean as he speeds up his thrusts to fuck his cock harder into your sopping cunt. “Your cute little pussy is the best I’ve ever had.”

His words shouldn’t please you as much as they do, but those lewd words turn you on so much that you can’t stop your cunt from tightening around him as he keeps spearing into you like an animal in heat. They also shouldn’t turn on Heeseung’s girlfriend but that’s exactly what they do. She isn’t angry, only extremely aroused as your ass bounces back on your stepbrother’s pelvis.

“Fuck!” Heeseung groans, fucking his cock right into your g-spot. “You’re so fucking hot, angel.”

You are. So hot that Mina finds herself wishing she could eat Heeseung’s cum out of your pretty cunt. She just knows you taste good, and mixed with her boyfriend she’s sure you must taste even better.

“Seungie, please!” You cry out, dizzy with arousal.

“Shit.” He growls, slipping a hand underneath your hips to rub fast circles on your clit. “Gonna make you cream on my cock again.”

“Heeseung!” You squeal as he picks up his pace, ramming into your squelching pussy as he rubs soft circles into your swollen clit.

Your stepbrother shoves his cock deep into your cunt and grinds, making you squirm and whine as his dick rubs against the spongy spot in your pussy. Your hands twist in the sheets. He flicks and pinches your puffy clit. God, do you look good, and so does Heeseung. Mina is groping one of her tits while the other hand goes to play with her pussy again. Briefly, she thinks she wouldn’t mind having a video of you two fucking so she can watch it over and over again.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You moan against the pillow.

“Do it, baby.” He encourages you, free hand coming down to slap your ass hard. “Cum all over my cock. Want to feel your hot cunt squeeze me.”

It’s not long before your orgasm hits. You’re screaming into your pillow as your cream coats Heeseung’s big cock. Your pussy clamps rhythmically around his dick. Mina can’t see you, but with the way your toes are curling she can tell your eyes are rolling to the back of your head in pure ecstasy.

“Oh, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Heeseung praises you. His hands move to slap your ass again, making you squeal and tighten again. “Fucking work your little pussy on my cock. Fuck. Need to fill you up again.”

“Want you to stuff me full.” You whine back at him, pussy fluttering at the thought of Heeseung’s cum filling your cunt again.

“Yeah?” Your stepbrother laughs, sounding way too delighted. “Want me to creampie your hot little cunt again?”

“Please!” You whine as Heeseung’s fingers slide over your hip to start working soft circles into your clit again. You writhe back on him, feeling yourself get even wetter at the filthy thought of him shooting his hot load inside you.

“Cum inside me, Hee.” You pant, mewling when his fingers rub your clit even faster. “Want it so bad. Want to feel it.”

“Oh, fuck.” Heeseung groans, hips snapping hard against your ass when he feels how tight you’ve gotten. “You ready, baby? Fucking take it. Take your stepbrother’s cum in your needy little cunt.”

You moan loudly when you feel his hot cum filling your pussy, stuffing you so full it drips out around his cock. Heeseung ruts his spent cock into your sloppy pussy as he pinches your clit, watching as your back arches as a fourth orgasm sweeps through you. You lazily fuck your cunt back into him, loving the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and coating your thighs.

Heeseung pulls out of your warm cunt with a low groan. He’s quick to pull you against his chest and lays you down with him. His face is buried in your hair, eyes closed in bliss as you both try to catch your breaths. You feel his smile in your hair as he cuddles you and murmurs sweet praises against your temple.

Through your drooping eyes, you catch sight of Mina. Her eyes widen when you two make eye contact. You can’t hide your smirk when you see that she was masturbating to the sight of Heeseung fucking you raw. Instead of saying anything, you give her a seductive wink. Mina clenches around her fingers because the wink is full of understanding and promises.

It’s clear that Heeseung was never hers, but maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing.