#AND I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THIS SCENE

[jinxvex]

omg haiii :3 #1 i just found your account and i love your works! the way you write is just… mwahmwahmwah. besides that! i’d love it if u could do a jinx x reader where reader is lowkey oblivious but jinx is super obvious with how much she wants to fuck… and when she finally gets to hit she degrades and dumbifies reader… orrrr am i just thirsty 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

♱ fantasy. ♱

oh girl this is sexy trust, WE IS THIRSTY TEW!! also thank you, you’re so sweet!! i’m glad you enjoy my works :))

syp. the first time jinx set her glowy shimmer-charged eyes on you, she knew she had to have you—and she always gets what she wants. no matter that you were friends and you were oblivious to her constantly undressing you with her eyes, fighting her urges to completely ruin, defile, and destroy you. you’d come to realize soon enough.

cw: nsfw content!!, dom!jinx plotting on that p***y (lol), sub!reader (i'm a switch!jinx truther but let me cook...), a lot of degrading + dumbification, cursing, dirty talk, some praise, teasing, mocking, she forces you to take it!!, mentions of oral/fingering/gun-play, strap-on sex, hair-pulling, pet names (toots, hon, babe, baby, bunny, etc?), possessiveness, nastiness galore (lord forgive me!), reader’s past sex life is purposefully written to be vague, + prob more

wc: 4.2k!!

jinx’s fantasies involving you started a month ago when she was off roaming the rowdy streets of the undercity for a market sale. well, before it. she had begrudgingly taken up silco’s orders to keep tabs on the shipment coming in and out before the market opened to the public. for what? ‘who freakin’ knows?!’ she thought.

in retrospect, jinx was never an overly sexual person. she understood what it was, why people participated in it, and her own sexual preferences but she’d never devoted much time to finding someone to fuck or to fuck her for that matter. she's fucked before, but that was it. plunging her long, slender fingers into her own cunt while reading a racy scene in a shitty romance novel was enough to get her rocks off. she figured something was missing but she brushed it off.

her mind was… elsewhere most of the time.

(a month ago...)

lost in her thoughts, per usual, jinx doesn’t see you standing in all your beautiful glory. she walks right past you, eyes darting along everything she can see to accurately take in the information silco wants her to report back to him. she's still preoccupied with the inner workings of her mind and not too much with the zaunite public.

well, that's bound to change one way or another.

suddenly, she's stopping dead in her tracks. something's changed. the air feels charged, full of opportunity and something else. curly lines, shapes, and colorful graphics fill her vision—overwhelming but she feels as though she can really see clearly for the first time.

her nostrils catch a whiff of something… sweet. inviting. like freshly baked cookies although it's almost incomparable to how truly delectable the scent is. she's taken by surprise at the smell of something so good, good enough to eat, to devour. she’s never smelt anything or anyone so delicious. it intrigued her beyond belief, she knew that whatever it was, she was going to have that thing.

that’s when in her own self-induced frenzy she'd caused by frantically turning and thrashing around to look for where the smell led her, she sees you for the first time. as radiant as ever.

everything's in slow motion.

you're leaning up against a metal post and speaking to a market vendor, your voice as sweet as ever chatting to them about ‘who the fuck cares’. your smile is the brightest she’d ever seen living in a place full of drug addicts, violence, and poverty like you’ve never been subjected to zaun in your entire life.

she watches as you flip your hair to one side, hips swaying and fingers twiddling against your satchel. she watches you so intently, that she can see your eyes blinking slowly, she can count your individual eyelashes and remember the number for the rest of her life.

to say the least, jinx is enamored by the sight of you, let alone your smell. images of how good you'd look naked, and what your skin would feel like against hers cloud her vision, creating the perfect first impression of you in her mind. she looks further at you, specifically your ass and the jeans hugging it perfectly as well as the curve of your hips. the veins in your neck travel further down beneath your shirt and she can't help but wonder what your chest would look like.

bare.

before this moment, she'd never thought of somebody in such a vulgar light; it put her in a state of shock. she let her mind wander even farther off into jinx-landia and she imagines what it would feel like to slide her fingers into your pussy and press the pads of them onto your g-spot. she wants to know what it feels like to feel you get wetter and wetter and what it feels like to make out with your pussy—to push your own juices into your mouth and kiss you dumb. she thinks about testing how deep your cunt could get—how pretty your ass would look riding a cock, tits bouncing in the air.

controlling herself was something jinx always had problems with, so she isn't surprised when she is unable to stop herself from approaching you. her feet seem to be dragging themselves towards you like some sort of magnetic force.

“hiya, toots,” spills from her lips before she can even stop and think about what she's doing.

you pause your conversation with whomever you're speaking to, looking over in her direction to find her staring intently at you. confused and a little petrified, you stand up straighter, as you aren't expecting silco’s adoptive daughter to be staring you down at the beginning of some random ass tuesday morning.

“uhm, hey,” you respond, sounding more like a question rather than a greeting in return.

‘this is gonna be so much fun,’ jinx’s eyes light up and she lets her lips curl up in a friendly smirk, running through ways in her mind how exactly she’d ruin your body, mark you up, and claim you for herself.

because no matter what, nobody else is ever getting a piece of you now that she's sought you out.

no fuckin’ way.

…

somewhere in the present, there’s an idea—a certain narrative established between you and jinx.

you’re friends. good ones.

you don't know what else would explain the obvious liking jinx has taken to you. what else would explain the way she’s always touching you, looking after you, and asking you personal questions? questions so personal they have your eyes widening and gripping the edges of your clothes.

"have you ever, y'know, done it before? had sex?"

"what sorta stuff you into? like, sex stuff."

"you ever touch yourself? what feels the best? just trying to see if i could learn somethin' interesting for myself."

you never answer, often opting to lower your head in silence. how could you? it was wildly inappropriate and quite frankly, jinx made you shy. maybe it's because she's so pretty, and bold, and has a waist so small and touchable that you just want to-

no! 'why does she care so much?' you ask yourself frequently. no friend has ever been so crass...

duh! she gives a shit because she wants to fuck your brains out 'n then maybe cuddle you a bit! but you don't know that...

jinx follows you around too, insisting you need protecting since "you're too pretty 'n perfect" to not have protection.

one day, she started walking you to your god-awful job and never stopped. her excuse was, "can't have anyone takin' advantage of ya so early in the morning, princess. janna knows they'd try with a face 'n a body like that...whew", she whistled to herself.

needless to say, she kept your life interesting. she always seems to find you, no matter where you are. like she can sense your presence anywhere. you figure she doesn't have many people to talk to, everyone's scared of her being silco's daughter and all. but, you don't have anyone either; no parents or friends. no girlfriend.

well that makes two of you. sort of.

you both are currently smushed together on her sofa in her hideout making bracelets—snacks, craft supplies, and sleepover galore surrounding you. earlier on in the day, jinx had swung by your apartment (how she found out where you lived, you had no clue) and invited you over for a sleepover for the first time. you were surprised she was trusting you enough to let you see where she retreats at night and where she spends most of her time eating, sleeping, plotting; scheming.

she has a knack for making you feel special; like it’s just you two in the world and nothing else matters.

she makes you feel alive.

you’re shaken out of your thoughts by a grinning jinx. yes, physically shaken. both of her palms are placed on your shoulders, gripping them tight and looking into your eyes almost as a way to silently ask if you’re having as much fun as her. heat transfers from her usually cold hands to your skin which has you internally reeling. you’re wearing a tank top, comfortable enough with her to show a little something extra, “whatcha thinkin’ about, hon?”

you smile back at her, “nothing.”

you swear you see her eyes flicker down to your chest for a split second but you ignore it. her eyes move quick due to the shimmer, ‘you’re seeing shit, girl’ claims the angel on your shoulder.

“hmm, you’re lying.”

“am not!” you counter.

“are too,” she doubles back.

“whatever.” you finalize, emphasizing the ‘ever’. you’re not interested in arguing with her any further or giving her the satisfaction of proving her right.

you focus on the friendship bracelet you’re creating for her, determined to make it as pretty as you can for her. you want her to wear it—like it. love it, even. it fills you with a sick satisfaction knowing that soon you’d be wearing each other's creations, way more than it would if you just saw her as a friend. you see her pause her movements out of the corner of your eye but you keep going.

the faint sound of her own bracelet dropping to the couch cushion causes your head to rise up, looking at her in slight confusion. you’re not shocked to realize that she’s already looking at you.

“’m bored,” jinx replies blankly, pouting cutely.

“and grass is green. what else is new? you’re always bored, girl,” you playfully nudge her arm.

“well… grass has more of a grey hue down here so-“

the funny but slightly depressing joke nearly flew over your head but the knowing smirk on her face clued you in on her shenanigans.

you gasp in disbelief and nudge her arm a little harder now, fighting to stifle your laugh under your breath, “ha ha. very funny.”

“yeah, toots. i’m extremely hilarious,” she holds her head up high and crosses her arms above her chest.

she pauses, “let’s play somethin’.

she faces you fully now, right knee switching from resting next to your left to mirroring both of your knees, parallel to you. she scoots closer, and by now you know her calculating personality. you know that whatever she’s up to, has to be mischievous.

“ever hear of truth or dare?”

you roll your eyes, “of course i have!”

“then, you know the rules… right?”

“yes, jinx. i know how to play,” you rebuttal.

maybe you should’ve known her attention span wouldn’t last long while bracelet making. even if the speaker blared her favorite music at her gadget station, filling the space with a comfortable ambiance.

she smiles widely, “then let’s fuckin’ play!

“it’ll be so. much. fun,” she gets closer to your face with each word to emphasize her point, biting her lip and giving you intense eye contact. sexually charged eye contact. but again, you don't realize.

“fine. fine! but you’re going first. you're better at this sorta thing.”

she leans back to give you more space, just enough space to where it's socially acceptable to still be incredibly close to your friend. she's clapping her manicured hands together as her smile grows bigger and her shoulders tense with excitement.

"truth or dare?!" she asks in a televised over-dramatic fashion.

"truth."

'too easy' she thought. although, 'this is good,' her thoughts linger further. she figures she should start you off easy.

jinx has now stopped her clapping to put a finger on her chin in a thinking motion, obviously pretending to conjure up an interesting question that she's probably already picked out in her head.

"hmm...have you ever had a boyfriend?" she asks confidently, putting emphasis on the 'boy' part of "boyfriend" in a mocking manner; like how a sibling or family member would tease you about a crush.

your eyes widen, already caught off-guard by her first question.

"uhm... no. i-i don't really like boys like that."

she licks her lower lip and smiles once again, unbeknownst to you because you've just confirmed that she actually has a chance to win you over. although, she had her suspicions when she first met you.

"ever had a girlfriend?" she questions further, a serious, eerie edge to her voice appearing at the thought of you ever even romantically touching another girl. hell, in any way, shape, or form.

blinking rapidly, you shut her down quickly, "what, no! never really got the… chance to."

initially, you were going to tease her by mentioning that she was only allowed to ask one question but, you couldn't help but shake the feeling that she wasn't going down without an answer from you.

"awesome, good to know! your turn."

"okay. truth or da-"

"dare," she cuts you off delightedly.

you file through your mind to give her something entertaining to do but you find absolutely nothing, your mind blank like always the very moment you get around her. jinx makes you feel like you don't have to live your life thinking so hard. it's peaceful.

"damn, you are bad at this game," she snorts.

"hey, i can't help it. you've gotta help me here."

she raises a brow, "i mean, you could ask me t'do basically anything. y'know i'd do it," she slowly cocks her head to the side, still gazing deep into your irises. her braids follow the movement of her head.

"make it nasty."

"what the hell am i supposed to do? tell you to take off your clothes?!"

she doesn't waver, "yeah. yeah, that's a good one. do it."

you gulp, throat now dryer than ever and your fingers hurt from tightly grasping the fabric of your sleep shorts, 'here goes nothing.'

"u-uh... i dare you to t-take off your shirt," you order weakly.

jinx doesn't even let you finish your sentence before she's crossing her arms in front of her to tug the tiny, thin tank top off of her body, you follow her hands and you watch her chuck it on the floor carelessly. you look back up at her only to realize that,

she isn’t fucking wearing a bra.

you gasp in shock and secret arousal, eyes darting to the spot below you as you avoid looking at her soft, perky chest any longer, not wanting to over-step or make her uncomfortable.

"hey, you're startin' to hurt my feelings, babe. gave you that idea for a reason. makes shit more... interesting."

you look up to meet her eyes and for the nth time, you see her staring right back at you, gaze charged with something more than usual. you may have been oblivious, but you weren't dumb, something was definitely going on here. something that friends shouldn't do alone.

but you can't stop. it's turning you on.

the game continues on for many rounds after that, you and jinx switching back and forth from truth and dare, learning more and more about each other as time passes by. you start to get the hang of her outlandish questions, answering them shyly but not as reluctant as before. something you'd never get used to was the hypnotizing way her tits bounced with each slight movement, entrancing you. you learn that she's had sex once before and that she likes rope play and getting her hair pulled.

she also mentions other personal traits of hers that make your head spin, "y'know when i get wet, i get reeeally wet. like water wet."

needless to say, you know more than you should. she seemed to not mind telling you these things either, almost excited to clue you in.

"truth or dare, baby?"

"truth," you choose once more, the pet name affecting your better judgment and the seductive tinge to her voice causing the wetness already present in your underwear to leak through to your shorts.

jinx doesn't attempt to pretend to think of a question, "tell me, toots. what turns you on? what gets ya goin'?"

"what do you mean? like some sort of a kink?"

"yeah, like a kink."

embarrassment falls over your face like a dam breaking. you have to lie. this was getting too up close and personal for your own good and the only thing that could save what's left of your dignity is a lie.

"i-i don't know..."

so much for a lie.

her unhappiness with your answer is expressed when you see her narrowing her eyes at you. she leans in close, nose brushing yours and you can feel her warm breath on your face, "i know you're lying," she says real sing-songy-like. she's teasing you, and enjoying it.

her slender finger points in your face, “no fair! showed you my tits, toots! play by the rules."

"okay! okay! god, this is so fucking embarrassing-"

"c'mon..," she urges you on, eager to learn more about your sexual side and what takes you cream. she desired to know what made your pussy wet before she stuffed you full. but again, you don't know that.

"i-um. i read something onc-,”

she cuts you off once again, “don’t got all day!”

you sigh, “okay! i like getting called names. mean ones,” you blurt out quickly—sick of her antics.

“and i think i like it��rougher?”

her seemingly continuous stare falters for a split second before a bubbly laugh escapes her throat, smiling bigger and better than she has all day.

“oh, yeah? you like it… rough? you like getting treated like you’re nothin’?” she laughs out incredulously and somehow she’s gotten closer to you, lips almost close enough to graze yours.

“jinx… i- what are you-“

“what if we… played somethin’ else? somethin’ a little more worth our while.”

she figures, ‘ay, i’ve waited long enough…i need her'.

“like what?” you inquire even though you're no longer oblivious, catching on to what she means by “somethin’ else.” you feign innocence.

you feel a calculating hand travel up your leg, they’re slightly sweaty and cold which makes a shiver crawl down your spine. your chest visibly quickens, eyebrows furrowing, and eyes glossy with desire. jinx, still maintaining eye contact with you, remains calm although internally jumping for joy as she's finally got you where she wanted you the moment she laid eyes on you.

"how wet are ya right now, toots? you look like you're 'bout to cream your fuckin' pants!"

you audibly gasp, and she continues,

"i bet you're just drippin' down there... this whole time i've been sittin' here thinkin' you're being tortured answering all my questions, but, the entire time you've been gettin' off to it, haven't ya?!"

a single tear gathers in your eye out of complete and utter embarrassment. despite that, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love it.

her hand stops at the edge of your top, fiddling softly with it, "you can tell me to stop, baby! but, i have a feeling you don't want that," she whispers against your lips. you feel her tug the bottom of your tank top tighter, balling it in her clammy fist.

"dont! d-dont stop."

and just like that, a switch flips in her head. she's grabbing the back of your neck and smushing her lips against yours, capturing them in a searing kiss that has your lips aching. as soon as you feel her tongue attempt to break into your mouth, you let her in.

you initially jump in surprise but quickly sink into the kiss once you get used to the overwhelming contrast between her cold hands clutching your waist and her warm lips pressed on your lips. soon, she's basically drooling into your mouth, tongue trailing over every detail of the inside of your mouth as if she's trying to memorize the space. it's disgusting, really. but, it makes your cunt sloppy.

jinx breaks the kiss to pull your top over your head. she throws it on top of hers. the same one she abandoned long ago at the start of the game. it creates a small heap on the floor of her cozy abode.

"fuckin' whore," she laughs.

you moan, biting your lip softly as a seductive tactic to keep her kissing you.

"wooow!!" she drags out humorously, pressing her hand against your throat and tightening slowly with each word that comes out of her mouth, "you really are a slut. you like when i'm mean, slut?"

you nod, words seemingly impossible to form at this point.

she tightens her hold on you, bringing your neck closer so her mouth resides next to your ear, "if you don't speak up, i'm gonna make it hurt. 's gonna hurt so bad, bunny. gonna torture you. ‘n i know it’s our first time and all! don’t wanna have to scare ya just yet!"

unable to stop rambling, she continues, "hmm... maybe i'll shove the biggest fucking cock i have into your tight cunt... no prep! betcha you'd take it so well. hell, you'd probably like it! you're nasty like that."

"maybe i'll stuff my gun in there...with the bullets inside."

"please, jinx. fuck me.”

she just smiles, “i thought you’d never ask.”

…

you swear you see your life flash before your eyes because of how hard jinx is pounding your poor, abused cunt into the couch cushion. she has you face down—ass up with your hands held together behind your back by her own hands. your face rests on the couch arm, halfway visible to her so she can marvel at your eyes rolling to the back of your head and crossing achingly.

her own eyes roll at the sight of you in such a lewd state, “fuck, toots! you’re takin’ this cock so good. suckin’ me in your pussy like a good little cockslut. mmph. jus' swallowing it whole, fuck!!"

her pace is fast but calculated; and planned. as always. she’s roughly rolling her hips into yours to produce the addictive whore-ish moans to spill from your mouth. she’s also focused on watching her cock disappear in you, your cunt swallowing her cock like it was supposed to be there. the open space is filled with creamy cunt sounds and skin-slapping noises.

“holy fuckin’ shit, hear that? ya hear that pussy creaming ‘round my dick? she’s talkin’ to me, baby!”

you speak, remembering her resentment towards you not responding to her, “y-yes! i-i do, jinxie.”

“yeah?! you think she’s tryin’ to tell me how much she loves me? how much she loves when i split her open on my dick?” she reaches below your stomach to slap at your clit right where the balls on the faux cock meet your skin and you shudder in pleasure.

“fucking love your dick, ‘s so good, s-shit!”

it’s like her mouth won’t stop. she’s relentless—bullying you with her words as well as her cock. jinx pulls you up by your hair so your upper body mirrors hers. she slows her pace to thrust deeper and harder in you, damn near knocking the wind out of you. that causes to you choke on your breath, and your mouth is open as far as it can go.

“h-hah! aww… ‘s just sooo good, isn’t it?"

"see what happens when you’re good for me? good lil’ whores get good dick, ‘n i love givin’ it to ya, hon.”

you’re uncontrollably moaning, voice echoing loudly as you beg her for more—to wreck you.

“more! m-more please!”

“more?!“ she removes her hand from your head to dig her nails into your hips so she can get deeper, so she can open you up.

“you. want. fuckin’. more?!” she slams into your pussy with each word.

your pussy is drooling with your arousal and the shared sweat between you and jinx. you can feel it squelching down your legs with every thrust and throaty laugh she lets out at your pathetic form.

“god, you should see yourself. such’a perfect slut.”

with every word you feel your pussy quiver, getting closer and closer to cumming around her cock. when you curl your toes and inch off of her to prevent yourself from orgasming a whopping 3 minutes in she’s not having it, quickening her pace but keeping her almost-painful thrusts deep.

“nope! gonna take it all. ya asked for it, toots! you begged me to stick my dick in you. so take all of it.”

“b-but ‘m gonna cum! don't wanna yet! oh my god, p-please!!” you beg her for the slightest bit of mercy.

uncaring, she leans down next to the side of your head, lowering her voice, “you’re gonna fuckin’ cum, ‘n you’re gonna cum telling me whose pussy this is. who’s is it, babe?”

“who’s feedin’ this cunt good dick?!”

“you, you! only you.”

“yeah, ‘s me. cum, toots. soak me—get me wet.”

and that was it, “fuck! ‘m cumming!”

you release a soul-crushing moan and triggered by your sudden high, you grip the edges of the couch arm and fuck your ass back on her to deepen her thrusts if that’s even possible. wetness squirts from your cunt and everywhere around you, soaking the entire space below you including jinx’s lower half. the last thing you remember before you pass the fuck out is the hazy, content look on her face and incoherent mumbles that probably consisted of,

“that was way better than a fuckin’ fantasy.”

…

PLEASE TAKE THIS FOOD WHILE I WORK ON MY SEV REQS!!🙏🏽🫣...

[theoretically-questionable]

I'll go further: lots of (white) people *do* listen to rap. They just don't call it rap, and they actively distance themselves from anything too 'rap'-like until it gets popular — at which point they take pains to draw artificial distinctions between it and 'actual rap'.

I'm Australian. A lot of my peers growing up listened to Hollywood Undead, Hilltop Hoods, Bliss n Eso, Kerser, Limp Bizkit, and those two or three popular songs from Rage Against the Machine's discography (as did my internet friends in Canada and the USA: i'm leaving the UK out of it because their landscape around mainstream music and black rappers is different in kinda complicated ways imo).

But none of these bands were thought of as even close to 'rap' to my peers — HU and LB were just "rock/punk", Kerser was just "hardcore electronic", and (most egregiously of all) BnE and HH were just "hip-hop". They didn't listen to rap (bad, black), no! It was hip-hop (good, white)! (and of course, any Australian indigenous music, rap or otherwise, was fringe at best — the most 'indigenous politics' band was Midnight Oil (very white), and actual contemporary Indigenous music only got passed around as a joke (see Petrol Powered Goon Bag Holocaust going semi-viral amongst high-schoolers, for example).

The cognitive dissonance required to say a band isn't 'rap' because it's actually 'just aussie hip-hop' is... incredible, sure, but it's real. There's a... reflexive refusal, i guess, to engage with black art, to instead preference white artists in the genre, and to split parts of into 'less-rap' genres to make it more palatable.

Plus there's a persistent difficulty engaging with the actual themes of black art when it does get mainstreamed (see the focus on Lamar v. Drake beefing that skips over a *core* part of the feud, namely "you a fuckin' colonizer") (F.D Signifier's 'I'm What the Culture Feeling' is invaluable here for anyone looking to get their bearings on the context).

And there's this... weird shame that a lot of (again, mostly white) rap-combo-genre artists seem to feel about being rap-adjacent, now? It either trickled up from fans, or down from the bands, but it's everywhere. It's cringe, it's immature, it's juvenile masculine anger, it's not tasteful, it's not properly political. All the same patently incurious (at best) shit people say about black rap and culture.

"For anyone born before 1995 or so, the mere mention of the term “rap rock” is likely to produce reflexive shudders. The cultural imagination is littered with the unlovely offspring of attempted copulation between the styles; if, at some point, you made a name for yourself through combining rap and rock, chances are you either distance yourself vigorously from such efforts now or have learned to adjust to life as a walking joke."

—Jason Greene, 'The Unlikely Resurgence of Rap Rock', Pitchfork

Which is stunning, really, because bands in these 'hybrid' genres have been some of the most influential in the last two decades of the western popular musical landscape (and as OP said, probably less directly for the last forty plus years)!

These are bands that aren't just 'musically influenced' by rap, but bands that outright lyrically rap in their songs (regrettably, Lonely Island counts — "i don't listen to rap, unless it's a 'parody' band" was a huge genre for a while, christ)! But it's never 'actually rap' to the audience (who view rap as 'bad') and it's almost never non-white artists.

Everything from the edgelord-electronic scene (stemming out from MSI and similar bands which held an ongoing fascination with the 'shocking' aspects of black culture and rap) to straightforward nu-mental, rock, and punk, and even fucking Christian Rock/Metal, are all genres full of bands that explicitly started out directly engaging with 'rap' and were explicitly inspired by black rap artists.

Like, I don't cite Greene above just to support the idea that this reflexive shame around liking anything rap-like exists; the article also shows the writer straightforwardly leans into the 'cringe' these rap-combo genres apparently inspire. It's completely at odds with the actual trajectories (in terms of fame, subject matter, and political engagement) of the bands he's talking about. He even explicitly buys into the old canard that rap rock (as a rap offshoot) is/was predominantly misogynistic.

(The conversation around white artists extracting and popularising elements of black music culture for their own careers and musical expression, and their music's misogyny/aggression stemming from uncritical interpretations/reproductions of the more nuanced and culturally specific source material, is a whole other kettle of fish.)

rap has probably been the most consistently popular and influential genre of music for the past 40+ years but your average person on tumblr is less willing to listen to it than a random white teenage boy in the suburbs or a 4channer who lurks on /mu/ every once in a while

[moonstruckme]

Here’s my idea for Spencer and intern!reader if you’d be so kind to write it <3 something like Spencer comforting reader after she saw/experienced something rough and is trying not to show emotion bc she thinks that’s what being on the team is

Thank you for requesting!

cw: crime scene, no descriptions but there is a body and the killing is discussed in vague terms, nausea, reader is a bau intern but also an adult

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re all bottled up. Spencer should be listening to the police officer telling them about witnesses who discovered the victim, but you’re distracting him. You’re breathing deep and slow, intentionally, and your gaze flickers between the cop and the body like you’re not sure which deserves your attention more. Your skin looks waxy in the morning light. 

Spencer is able to step away fairly easily, leaving JJ and Morgan with the officer as he grasps your elbow to pull you with him. 

Closer, your breaths are audibly stilted. “What’s up?” you ask, sounding remarkably composed despite how your eyes are still moving between Spencer and the victim. 

He walks you away from the crowd, back towards the SUV. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” 

You say it too fast. Spencer watches you realize this, and in the same moment you know of course he has too. 

Still, he says gently, “You look like you’re going to faint. If you are, it’s better if you tell me.” 

You reach the SUV. Spencer opens the passenger side, expecting you to sit in the seat to steady yourself, but you only take refuge behind the door. Away from the eyes of the rest of the team, you close your eyes, sucking in another deep breath. 

“I’m not going to faint,” you say on the exhale. This time, with enough conviction that Spencer believes you. “I’m really sorry, I just—I feel sort of sick.” 

“That’s okay,” he murmurs. 

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine in a minute.” 

“Do you want some water?” Spencer reaches into the glove box to find an unopened bottle. “Here, drink small sips of this.” 

“I’m okay,” you say, twisting the cap off to do as he says. 

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he offers. “I know it’s not your first crime scene, but it can be disturbing, the things we see. You know, for most people, even smelling a dead body without seeing it is enough to…” He slows when he can hear his team groaning at him in his head. Spence, JJ would say, in her fond and motherly way, not helping. “...to…well, you know. It’s a lot.” 

You give a little laugh. Fortunately, you seem not to be affected by Spencer reminding you of the smell. Unfortunately, you now look closer to tears than vomiting. 

“I know we have to see this stuff all the time.” Your voice is choked down to a whisper, face pointed at the ground. Spencer finds himself leaning closer to hear you. “And I know that none of the deaths are pretty, or…or easy. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to let it affect me.” 

“That’s nothing to be sorry about. We’re all affected.” 

“But you don’t show it.” 

“We have…we have practice. But we all show it sometimes. Some cases are worse for some of us than others.” 

“I guess I just haven’t—” Your voice splinters, and Spencer’s heart does a poor mimicry of the sound. “—haven’t seen one this…intentional yet.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut as two tears streak down your cheeks. You look frustrated and afraid, and even younger than usual. Spencer has his arms around you without knowing how he got there. 

He understands what you mean. The cases you’ve worked so far have been awful in their own ways, but this killer took his time in a way the others didn’t. He left his victim mutilated, torn apart with a cold-hearted meticulousness that would be enough to horrify even the most seasoned agent. By your anguish, Spencer knows you’ve probably seen it all play out in your mind a dozen times. 

Spencer thinks of himself as an empathetic person. He’s seen some terrible things, but he still tries to meet people, especially people at his job, with compassion and kindness. It doesn’t explain why he’s so startlingly desperate to soothe you. 

He holds the back of your head and keeps you folded into him, his other hand rubbing your back as you take in a wet, shuddering inhale. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.” 

Your voice is a choked, fraught thing. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry.” 

“I want to be professional.” 

“Sweetheart” —it slips out without him meaning for it to; Spencer ploughs ahead before either of you can think about it— “you’re not being unprofessional. This is…this is what we do. It’s hard sometimes. Everyone here understands that. Everyone on our team has done what you’re doing.” 

Another short, soft laugh, followed by a sniffle. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Is that why you’re so good at this?” 

Spencer pauses. “No, I’m…well, I wouldn’t say I am good at this, actually. I’m glad you think so, though.” 

“Yeah, you are.” You straighten, wiping underneath your eyes with a knuckle. “God, everyone is going to know I cried.” 

He can’t deny that. “They won’t care,” he promises you instead. “No one will ask questions if you don’t want them to. We all get it.” 

“I knew there were some really fucked up people out there,” you say in a small voice. “I just haven’t really thought as much about the people who…” Your gaze shifts, as if drawn by a magnet, through the tinted window of the SUV and back toward the crime scene. Your expression goes haunted. “...who they…” 

Spencer puts his hand to the side of your face. It’s not like him, and your eyes widen at the contact but you let him direct your attention away. Your skin is warm and tacky against his fingertips.

“It might help to sit down for a minute,” he suggests gently. You’re pliable, allowing him to nudge you back into the passenger seat. “Drink some more, okay? Do you still feel sick?” 

You think about it, then shake your head. “Not really.” 

“Let’s wait a bit anyway.” 

You swallow some water. Worry your lip. “You shouldn't have to coddle me.” 

“It’s not coddling,” Spencer says quickly. Too quickly, maybe. Luckily, you’re not as skilled a profiler and you don’t catch him. “It’s okay to step away sometimes. They don’t need us over there right now.” 

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Spencer.” 

He gets called lots of things. Spencer is one of them, of course, along with Reid, Spence, Kid, Boy Genius, and sometimes even Professor. None of them sounds as heavy sweet as his name on your lips. 

“We can wait here.” He decides it as it comes out of his mouth. He’ll have to get the details of the crime scene secondhand, might even make a trip to the coroner’s later to inspect the body himself, but in this moment Spencer can’t think of anything he wouldn’t do to make you comfortable. Inconveniences are trivial. “They’ll come find us when they’re ready to go to the station.” 

You look conflicted, your dedication to the team warring with your obvious desire to avoid being near the victim again. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” Spencer’s own voice sounds distant as he tries to make sense of the unfamiliar tug in his middle. “I’m sure.”

[lover-of-mine]

soooo 👀 the fit of buck's clothes in that bts video 👀 👀 would love to know your thoughts 👀 👀 👀

I know, right? The way his clothes keep getting more oversized is making me vibrate. Usual shoutout to @stagefoureddiediaz, Kym talked about the fit of Buck's clothes changing back in season 7 and we were talking about it earlier, so Kym 🫶🫶

Okay, so before season 7, Buck's clothes were too tight a lot of the time, we all joked about how his buttons were about to pop off or how his arms would rip through his shirts, or how we can see the outline of his muscles perfectly. Like, sometimes it would honestly look like he was one wrong movement from ripping those.

But they changed to putting him in more oversized stuff for season 7 (and started shortening his pants, but I digress) and gets more obvious in s8.

It is partially attached to Tommy and how tommy gives him the right path but isn't the right person, since his clothes start to get looser when he starts dating him. The shirts don't fit right on his shoulders, they don't sit right on his chest, they have the wrong fit in his arms. So his overall aesthetic still doesn't fit exactly right.

The whole thing with the changing the way his clothes fit in the other direction is very indicative of how Buck still doesn't fit in his own skin, he thought dating men was the answer but he was Buck dating Tommy, he didn't look further than that, and he is spiraling further with what we know, spinning like a top one would say lol, and both scenes we saw of his clothes (yesterday's uniform possibly included), include VERY loose shirts.

I keep being drawn to the fit around his arms because my god, for a shirt to look that big on Oliver's biceps it has to be BIG lol. And while his shirts have been looser, they haven't been this big yk? And today's video, with the cropped fit, how lose it is, like, Buck is GOING through it, which makes me think this fit is from 810, just to add the emotional distress of the kidnapping to his abandonment issues being extremely triggered between the breakup and Eddie leaving.

It's all about the way Buck still hasn't gotten it right. We know Buck is on his way to figuring his feelings for Eddie out, and therefore finally understanding the final piece of the puzzle that allows him to stop over-correcting. But he's not there yet. The choices he's making don't fit exactly right. And his clothes will be the wrong size until he's ready to fight for Eddie.

But Anna what makes you think all this means buddie and that Buck's clothes will fit when Buck is ready and buddie is coming?

Well, I believe there are clues about the general idea behind buddie going canon hidden in the coming out scene. I have talked extensively about the blue and yellow elements, the way I believe this is Buck's shade of blue. I think all of it is indicative of what's to come.

And that includes how perfectly that shirt fits. The seams are resting on the right spot on his shoulder, they are the perfect length for his arm, they're not overly tight around his chest or biceps, nothing looks too big or too small.

And this isn't an accident, everything about the show is very intentional, so the clothes getting looser as he lets Eddie go even though he doesn't want to? It makes me very !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because the oversized fit also plays into the way we haven't exactly seen Buck in his signature jewel tones, the bright reds and blues, this season yet. And I think that once buddie happens he will be walking around with his brighter colors in shit that fits right lol.

So we are on the lookout for Buck in clothes that fit right and in this shade of blue.

As always, if you read all this I love you 🫶

[fawnhart]

rafe getting sugar a puppy ! ㅤ⭑๋ ࣭

It’s been a month since you showed up in Fawnridge with Rafe.

the last you heard about Outer Banks, was that your parents were making a scene at the police station, crying and carrying on like you’d been kidnapped. the cops just shook their heads, probably sick of hearing it.

You were an adult.

You left on your own.

Case closed.

Of course, that didn’t stop the rumors.

Mrs. Maggie, queen of town gossip, though she was always a nice soul to you, she sure had a lot to say about it over at the annual neighborhood picnic.

“I’m tellin’ you, her mama was screamin’ about demons takin’ her baby. Said God told her she needed to be ‘cleansed.’” She said stuffing her mouth with another chocolate covered strawberries “If you ask me, that girl was smart to run.”

“Oh, bless her heart, I woulda’ done the same” Mrs Dolores had sighed “You think she’s safe livin’ with Rafe though? That boy’s got a past.” The twiggy old lady said while sipping on her pink lemonade

Mrs. Maggie just huffed “Well peter tells me he saw them that night but y’know that son of a guns got bad eyesight, so who knows….Anyways, Past or not, at least he ain’t trying to drag her back to a bunch of crazies!.” she whispered harshly

That’s the story people have settled on. You ran away because your parents lost their minds. Maybe they’re right. Maybe they’re wrong.

Either way, you’re here, and you’re not going back.

⭑.๋ ࣭

The day he brought home the puppy, you nearly had a heart attack.

You had been curled up on the worn-out couch, half-asleep, wrapped in one of the blankets Rafe had let you steal from his room. The breeze from the wind drifted through the open window, mixing with the scent of the blueberry and vanilla candle you had bought and the faintest trace of his cologne. It was peaceful until the door swung open, and in walked Rafe, looking way too smug for your liking, a tiny cream colored ball of fluff cradled in his arms.

“What do you think?” He said grinning, his nose bridge and cheekbone stained with a streak of soot. He’s probably supposed to be at the fire station right now.

You sat up immediately, blinking at him in disbelief "What is that?"

He raised an eyebrow, like the answer was obvious "A dog."

"A dog?" you repeated, as if he’d just walked in with a live grenade. "Are you serious?"

He sighed, stepping further into the apartment, the puppy’s tiny tail wagging excitedly "Dead serious." He set the puppy down on the floor, and it stumbled a little before trotting toward you, pink tongue peeking out as it sniffed your leg.

You stared at it, it was a long haired dachshund, your heart betraying you with how fast it was beating. It was stupidly cute. Fluffy beige fur, big brown eyes, floppy ears that didn’t quite match its tiny body. It looked up at you like it had already decided you were its person.

You glanced up at Rafe suspiciously. "This some kind of trick?"

His jaw propped open, like the question actually offended him "What? No. This little man was stuck in a pipe down by the fish shop. The fire chief let me keep him"

"I thought you said the landlord has a strict ‘no pet’ rule" You said confused

“We just wont tell him" he said simply, shoving his hands in his pockets. His voice was even, but there was something underneath it—he was nervous "The company might be good."

You looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. The puppy whined, pawing at your leg, and you hesitantly reached down, letting it sniff your fingers before gently running your hand over its soft fur.

"We don’t have to keep him," Rafe added quickly, like he was preparing for you to refuse. "But I thought you might want-"

"I’ll keep him," you blurted, surprising even yourself. You could feel him staring at you, but you kept your eyes on the puppy, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "But if he pees on my bed, he’s heading straight to your room"

Rafe snorted "He’s, like, two pounds. Relax."

You shot him a glare, but it didn’t have much bite "What’s his name?"

He shrugged "Didn’t name him yet. Figured you should."

You looked back down at the tiny creature in your lap, watching as he curled up like he already knew he belonged there. A small smile tugged at your lips before you mumbled, "Chip."

Rafe tilted his head "Chip?"

"Yeah," you said, lifting your chin stubbornly. "Like a chocolate chip"

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head "Alright, Chip it is."

⭑.๋ ࣭

Two days later, you were dragging Rafe into the tiny pet shop on Main Street, determined to give Chip the absolute best life possible.

"This is ridiculous," Rafe muttered as you practically bounced toward the dog sweater section, Chip peeking out from the tote bag slung over your shoulder "The dog is fine."

"Ugh! You’re ridiculous," you shot back, flipping through the tiny sweaters with laser focus. "He needs a wardrobe"

Rafe exhaled sharply, crossing his arms as he stood behind you like a grumpy bodyguard.

The store was small, shelves stacked high with treats and toys, the scent of kibble lingering in the air. A couple of older ladies near the checkout counter kept sneaking glances at the two of you, whispering behind their hands.

You could already hear the town gossip forming.

"That’s Rafe Cameron"

"She’s the girl sleeping with him, right?"

"Are they…?"

You rolled your eyes, pretending not to hear them, while Rafe just ignored them completely. He was good at that.

"Okay, what about this one?" You held up a tiny baby blue sweater, pressing it against Chip’s fluffy body. He yawned, completely uninterested, his puppy breath hitting you, but you grinned "You look so handsome."

Rafe made a face "It’s a dog, Sugar, not a toddler."

You scowled "First of all, his name is Chip. Second of all, you’re just mad because he’s cuter than you."

Rafe scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk "Whatever. Just hurry up, can’t believe I’m spending my break buying dog clothes." He muttered

You ignored him, dropping the sweater into the cart before moving on to the treat aisle. You were hyper-focused, scanning the options like it was life or death, while Rafe leaned against the cart, looking deeply uninterested but still following you anyway.

By the time you reached the checkout, your cart was full. Dog food, a fluffy white dog bed, the sweater, a tiny heart-shaped tag with Chip’s name engraved on it. The cashier, a girl around rafes age with a curly blonde bob, raised an eyebrow as she rang you up.

"Didn’t know you were into the whole ‘happy family’ thing, Rafey" she said, voice dripping with something you didn’t like.

Rafe’s expression didn’t change, but you felt him shift behind you, his presence solid and unwavering "Just get the total, Kelsey."

Her eyes flicked to you, her lips pressing into a tight line "That’ll be ninety-four fifty."

Rafe handed over the cash before you could argue, and as you gathered your bags, Kelsey leaned in slightly "Guess you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, huh?"

You narrowed your eyes "I guess you don’t know what you’re talking about, huh?"

Her mouth opened slightly, but you didn’t give her the chance to say anything else. You turned on your heel, brushing past Rafe as you headed for the door.

Outside, the air was warm, the smell of smoke and fried food drifting from the food shacks down the street. You walked a few steps ahead of him before finally grumbling, "that girl sucks" you said tugging your little blue dress down

Rafe chuckled, falling into step beside you "Jealousy looks ugly on you"

You shot him a look "Jealous of what? Her?"

He didn’t answer right away, just kept walking, hands stuffed in his pockets "I don’t know," he said after a beat "You tell me."

You frowned, but before you could respond, Chip let out a tiny yawn from inside the tote bag, snuggling deeper into the blanket you had tucked inside.

You sighed, shaking your head "I don’t care, you can do whatever you want." You said not sure if you were convincing him or yourself

Rafe smirked, but he didn’t push it "Yeah, alright."

And as the two of you walked back toward the apartment, the sun dipping low over the road, you felt something settle in your chest,

something warm.

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[khrystalsnow]

January 2025 FanFic✨

Welcome Everyone! It's been a long time since I've posted anything on Tumblr and for this year, I wanted to start posting more fanfic recommendations to share my love for the authors, instead of being in the shadows and for more people to enjoy them. I will try to post every month the fanfics that I've read (which hopefully I stick by 🤞🏼) but for January, I have mostly Jungkook fanfics so hopefully you enjoy the list and have found something you also love❤️

The majority of fics are 18+ so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Legend:

🦷-fluff

🔥-angst

🌶️-smut

👅-crack/funny

❣️-personal favourite

✍🏼-ongoing

JUNGKOOK

The Corporate Equation by @someonegoood 🦷🔥❣️✍🏼

-this is in a corporate setting with jungkook as the CEO and y/n as the head of HR. Grumpy x sunshine trope, but really cute because we get to see jungkook slowly but surely softening up to y/n no matter how hard they try to deny it🤭

Neighbor Blunder by @awrkive 🦷🔥🌶️❣️✍🏼

-now listen to me, this is really good😭 I really love the dynamic between oc and Jungkook especially now with the new update👀 He's a gentleman, he doesn't beat around the bushes and sets his intentions straight to oc. I'm really excited about what happens next and will be lurking on AO3 for new updates because I cannot wait

ctrl+alt+delete by @muniimyg 🦷🔥🌶️👅

-obviously, I need to add in a social media au because they are really quick to read and this one is no exception. OC is an OF content creator and jungkook is a youtuber. Both of them are really funny and the interactions with their fans are really cute as well!

Playing the Part by @goldenchimmy 🌶️

-this was really good! it was such a nice build-up to the smut scene which is just perfection. Jungkook's such a gentleman and I need more of him please😭

True Love by @lovieku 🦷����🌶️

-this was really cute because OC's a simp for Jungkook and I would be too. It was also so heartwarming that they were able to find comfort within each other when OC would get panic attacks and show each other acts of love

The Love Prognosis by @awrkive 🦷🔥🌶️❣️

-A fan favourite of course 🫶🏻 I related to this a lot (the unrequited love part😶) and just being there for the person you love even if they're not with you, but will ultimately hurt Jungkook in the process. highly recommend it if you haven't read this and the drabbles because they are also extremely fun to read!

Teach Me How To Love by @kookooluvr 🦷🔥🌶️✍🏼❣️

-Another fan favourite because it's just THAT good. everything's going good at the current update of them going to Jeju but I'm ready for the angst that's about to commence😭 Ultimately, I just want Jungkook to finally have his girl fr

The Farmhouse by @solecize 🦷🔥

-the plot was something different from the fics that I usually gravitate to in January. this is a friends to lovers, set in a small town where OC is restoring her grandpa's farm and she reunites with her childhood friend. I love every little aspect of this fic because it deals with grief, growing up, and love. I love the subtleness of Jungkook's love for OC in the beginning where he helps her out in the farm, but it slowly grows toward the end, this is just such a wholesome read!

YOONGI

Love & Lullabies by @ktownshizzle 🦷🔥🌶️

-DILF yoongi because it needs its own warninggg. this was also a really cute and heartwarming read. in every part I read, their love for each other just grows and grows. give this fic some love because you won't regret it!

NAMJOON

Empty Box by @moni-logues 🔥🌶️

-I had hope for the ending but alas this fic does not have a happy ending 🥹 this fic does contain infidelity which I would typically stay away from but I gave it a chance and wow. the writing is really beautiful and rich, you can feel the pain both Namjoon and OC go through throughout their journey which leaves you feeling like you've also gone through the waves of their relationship. The plot feels realistic which makes it 10 times more painful

SHORT FICS

satellite by @httpknjoon 🦷🔥

: Your friend, Jungkook, offers to help you while you review for your human anatomy exam.

Petals and Fists by @kissyforkoo 🦷🔥

: boxer!jk x florist!oc

[orchidyoonkook]

KIKI!!!!!! I know I already screamed at you in DMs but holy shit dude!! I'm so spoiled in your love <<<33333. My coworkers literally looked at me like I was nuts because of how near manic my smile was reading this. I cannot believe you wrote all this about my babies. They love you so much too!!

can i just say how i am totally captivated by this fic once again just going back and reading everything again had me mesmerized by this plot line,

YOU REREAD IT???!!!! 😭😭😭😭♥♥♥ I love your love for them so much. You make me wanna keep writing every time I see your name in my inboxes with your delicious words. I eat them up in record time, every time.

The plot line was VERY plotted so I'm glad it's being given a moment to shine!!!!

seriously it is so good you guy have no idea, it's written to perfection that you are completely be drawn into the story, just like a movie it plays out in front of your eyes as you read the words i am not even joking it's literally the best part about it that you get drawn into the fic like that it's magical I tell you...

I try so hard to get the details and imagery. The movie thing is EXACTLY what I want to happen as you read so this particular feedback makes my heart just SIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGG.

Also I will cry at "it is so good you have no idea" because I'm trying so hard to write stories worth reading, ones you don't go "meh" afterwards. Like I want the folks who read them to be happy they spent their free time reading my stories, so I cannot stress enough how much hearing things like this motivates me, thrills me, and fills me with the most incredible happiness.

sorry for the babbling on

NEVER! No sorries, I live for the babble. I love to yap, babble, whichever, gimmie all of it no bars held.

but i can't fully express how much i love this fic and i can't not mention the prince and me because it just reminds me of it especially oc's personality and how she works so hard to achieve her goals i love it so much,

I LOVE THAT MOVIE

It was not any part of the inspiration for this fic tho! Funny enough, but now that you mention it, you're so totally right, (minus the initially douchey prince) but holy cow the similarities are kinda wild now that I'm thinking about it. I sweat it wasn't intentional XD

yoon your words, how you describe oc passion and jungkook's desires it's just beautiful you build the scenes so well and not only that the emotions, their thoughts it's like you are one with the character and this world you have build it sometimes brings me to tears to read the way your wrote their thoughts like in chapter 3 I literally had tears in my eyes...

emotions are so hard dude, especially as an AuDHD girly. So i again, try so hard to get them right. I just experience emotions differently than 'regular' folk, in a way that's hard to describe and feel, therefore, making emotions and desires hard for me to describe and write into my characters. So confirmations like this help me a lot to know that what I'm doing is working for the readers!!

(also not me and going back to reread chapter three so I could remember what you were hinting at there XD)

I was honestly blown away and that scene in the at the cafe when they are truly just themselves, i can't stop saying this but they way you write is pure gold and i hang on all of your words, the way oc and jungkook conversations just flow and holds so much meaningful moments like i can't describe it but it feels more like just a conversation for a story it just latches on to my heart and i feel like your words have so much meaning behind them, the placement of certain words, what they talk about it's like poetry if i am being honest i feel like there should be an analysis of each line or thought that they have that's the best way I can describe it...

The words do in fact have loads of meaning behind them, they are all also intentionally chosen and placed, so you nailed that to a T. But that being said, I did go back and reread this scene and I sae a good handful of mistakes (grammar and double uses of words close togehter). And thats what I get for editing chapters so quickly after writing them, I don't catch those XD.

It's so funny you mention poetry because you aren't the first person to compare my writing style to poetry, and that's funny to me because I don't like poetry 😂😂. Like at all. I could/can never get the meanings behind it like other people were abel to do (hello un/diagnosed AuDHD literal thinking brain)

An analysis would be so cool. Vi (violetsiren90) does that for me sometimes and she'll get meanings out of my words that I didn't even intend to have, but there she goes, everytime, making me out to be way better of a writer than I really am XD

jumping into ch. 5 can i just say i love oc's spirals about the jungkook dating news i don't wanna spoil it but gosh i love her trying to decipher why it's that girl, why out of the people in the world it's her

omg OC is just like me FRRRRR. I spiral think about everythhiinnngggg. and it's gotta be her for the plot, i dont make the rules except yes I do

i really enjoyed that and her subtle inclusion of herself in the comparisons hehehehe oc i see you, also i am with Yuri and oc on the hate train, oc's just hilarious in that conversation i love it..

I love seeing everyones reactions to Her, because obviously from a literary POV she's written in to be a villainous type of character, but from an I created this human being from my mind POV, I know why she is the way she is, and in the wise words of Ender Wiggin "I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves."

As for OC doing the subtle comparisons, I loved that because it makes her that much more human and real to me.

so the slow ass burn warning was very much needed hey wow no I still can't believe jk did a whole post with that girl and didn't tell oc, i somewhat get where his coming from but cmon how did he think she would react especially since their friendship is so strong and they clearly care about one another hehehe

slow burns are my fav and you can bet your ass it. is. slow. i make no apologies. I've had the plot plotted for three years now and I've loved the arc for just as long. I hope you will too

I think we as people, often forget that JK is a boy, and even though hes a nice boy with big responsibilites in this story with his title and all that, he is still, a boy. And boys arent the best at remembering to tell people stuff XD. also he like,, really didnt want to tell OC XDD

and jk's spiral after she confronts him ouch the slowest burn ever and the angst got me hooked,

😈😈😈😈😈 I love yearning so much, it really just makes a story that much more story centered.

i am absolutely looking forward to how things proceed between jk and this girl and oc's take on everything will she be able to focus on her time with nel

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S BEEN SO FUN TO WRITE THIS!!! The back and forth, the similarities, the differences, all of it between the two couples, oh it's so fun to compare and contrast them.

i'm pretty sure she's gonna have jk on the brain

no comment.

(also not sure if i mentioned it but I am sooooo not team this girl she's clearly soaking up all the influence jk brings and the complete opposite of what jk needs and she's oc's nemesis so not my vibe i can only imagine a scene where this girl just says the wrong thing in oc's presence and oc just flips and gives her a piece of her mind oooohh I hope that

i really wanna say something about this point specifically. but i CANT because it spoils something in a future currently unwritten, but very well documented plot wise, chapter. so just know that i wanna but cant.

(also the giggle /eye roll, which i totally blame on oc by the way, that i let out when i read this man was at a party making out with this girl, jk whatcha doing my guy??????)

excellent. As we can clearly tell from his tone in the chapter he was having an absolute BLAST (sarcasm). Very much: *through gritted teeth* "I love my job" of him.

lemme hop on into the next chapter and see jk's thought this man better explain himself 😉🤭🖤

EXCITEEEEEEEEMENTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!

okay!!! i have officially spent about two hours writing this reply now (between writing, and having to go back and reread stuff and then wiritnig and rereading) so i hope it's a good response! if you have anymore questions or talking points, you know where I am. And if it wasn't blatantly obvious: Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. for all the kind words and the theories and the thoughts. I cannot thank you enough for this. Thank you.

xo, Yoon

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 5

Title: Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: I'm sorry the prince is dating WHO?

Warnings: PG16, swearing, drinking, pining, angsssttttttttt, Jk has a lot of feelings, and so does Reader. Yuri being Yuri. Adaline being Adaline. TOUCH of fluff.

Word Count: 6,006

Release Date: October 20, 2023, 2:00PM

A/N 1: brain mush. finally out. Thank you for understanding. Already working on 6.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before fall reading week. 

Saturday’s looking so beautiful. Sunny skies and comfortable temperatures. 

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before the Friday you get to see Nel for the first time since August. 

And by god you can’t wait. You’re counting the days, minutes and seconds till he’s in front of you again. 

But it’s also 2:30pm on the Wednesday after you mysteriously woke up in your bed after movie night.  And that thought alone has been in the back of your mind since you opened your eyes Monday morning. 

You’d thought about asking Jungkook what happened, but also didn’t think you could face the mortification if his answer was the one you almost 100% knew it was going to be. Hell, you could already feel the nose dive your stomach would make towards pavement the second you got confirmation. 

So instead, like any other rational person, you shelved it away in the back corner of your brain. Far, far back, hopefully being covered with dirt and cobwebs and lint as the days pass on. 

Though you have a nagging feeling that someone or something keeps dusting—anyways, there are much more important things to be focusing on. 

Currently at the greenhouse cafe, you’re sipping on hot chocolate and painting this week's florals on a canvas almost half the size of you. Perched onto an easel, a bunch of sunflowers is beginning to take shape when your phone dings so many times you're worried someone’s dead. 

Dropping your brush, you scoop it up from its place on the edge of the table, only to see a series of texts from Yuri, and you loose a worried breath.

Her contact name is the same from when you two went to a party the first night of freshman year. While you were sipping from your first and only drink that night, Yuri was sloshed out her mind and slurring her words. And thus, SlurryYuri was born.

She whines every time she sees you still haven’t changed it. You were never going to, of course.

SlurryYuri [2:32pm]: BITCH

Oh, here we go. 

SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO WENT SOCIAL MEDIA OFFICIAL TODAY SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: BABE ANSWER SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: ANSWER ANSWER ANSWERRRRR SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: YNNNNNNNN

You [2:34pm]: Take a breath why dont you

SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: FINALLY.  SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: By the gods YN…  SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: ANYWAY SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: JUNGKOOK SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: as in PRINCE Jungkook SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: is dating ADALINE. SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: as in #1 ENEMY OF THE STATE EVIL BITCH ADALINE.

You spit out what was left of the hot chocolate in your mouth. 

Thankfully, you had some of your mind about you and managed not to ruin your painting by turning your head…couldn’t say the same for the cafe wall though. Rustic brick now splattered with a lovely, Pollock-esque spray of brown.

Oops.

But Jungkook and…Adaline? That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

He hasn’t mentioned anything about this to you. You speak to him every day, see him almost every day, and nothing? Not a peep? A morsel? A hint? Nothing?

Maybe you two aren’t as close as you thought you were.

To be fair, you didn’t tell him about Nel. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen or heard much from Jungkook since Sunday, which is unusual. He’s normally stuffing your inbox full of messages as the sun rises and sets, yet he’s sent maybe two a day since then.

You thought he was just busy with schoolwork.

Spiraling, you can’t help but wonder how long they’ve been seeing one another. How long he’s kept this little secret—not that it’s any of your business anyway, but he’s always seemed so open with you, with just about everything. So the fact that he kept this from you? What does that say? 

Does he think you’d react like any other girl? That you would scream and cry and mourn and tell him he’s making a mistake, that you’re his true love? Like Adaline would if he weren’t dating her? 

As if! And he knows that.

He knows that…right?

Doesn’t matter. Yes it does. No it doesn’t. 

Ugh! Whatever!

Does he even know who Adaline really is? Or does she put on a mask in front of him too, like she does everyone else. She must because now you wonder how he could even possibly like someone like her, knowing…well her! 

Bitchiness and duchess-ness aside, you and Adaline are incredibly similar, and Jungkook has never had any interest in you whatsoever, thank god. You and Adaline are both fine arts majors, both top of your class, talented, driven. You both work tirelessly for what you want, and don’t let others get in your way to success. Though only one of you will cheat if you have too, morals be damned. You both want your lives to yourself, to make your own path, to be trailblazers in your chosen fields.  

That kind of woman doesn’t seem like Jungkook's type. 

He needs someone who will follow him, and allow him to lead the nation. Someone who is okay submitting to him and his needs for the good of the people and the betterment of the Western Shores. He needs a politically inclined cheerleader, for lack of better phrasing. And that isn’t Adaline at all…or you, if you're still putting yourself in this conversation, which you’re not.  

Also, wasn’t it a rule that princes could only marry princesses? Or was it that nice, genuine people shouldn’t end up with assholes who use and abuse those around them for social status and power? And isn’t that a thing for him too—that he hates when people use him for his name?

So how could he go for her? You can’t fathom a goddamn reason as to why—

Ah…Well.

You can, but you hate it. 

Adaline is beautiful, and while no, not a princess, she does have a title the prince can be seen with in public without ridicule, friend or more than. Someone who wouldn’t be looked at like a charity case or a flavour of the week. Someone who’s used to the media. Adaline doesn’t have to hide from them. Isn’t scared to be seen by them with him. It wouldn’t ruin her future. It’ll only add to i—Wait.

Holy shit.

Adaline comes from one of the most influential families on the Eastern Shores. One with a lot of political power. Like, best friends with the Queen of the Eastern Shores, political power. Though she was only ever graced with sons. Adaline’s probably the closest thing she has to a daughter.

A marriage between Jungkook and Adaline could potentially unify the two sides again. 

Jungkook and Adaline could re-unite the East and West after centuries of war and separation, and current amicable co-existence.

Now that’s a reason he would date her. to become power couple of the century.

The next step in history. 

The whole idea of them makes more and more sense the more you think about it. Adaline, darling of the East marrying the future King of the West. And your stomach curls in on itself. 

Just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

And you pray to whatever god or gods there are in this universe that he keeps her away from you and out of your conversations. Jungkook’s relationship isn’t any of your business, nor your interest, but you don’t know how well you’d be able to keep your mouth shut about her if he asks anything. 

You know he likes that you’re honest. That you don’t hide things from him others would just to please him. But at what point do you put that aside to keep the peace in an otherwise very comfortable and still blossoming friendship? At what point does honesty become an obstacle rather than a building block?

You know that if Jungkook ever meets Nel and happens not to like him he would keep his mouth shut, mostly. Hopefully. He may give you a hard time but that’s just him. Jungkook knows your relationship is important to you, that it and Nel, make you happy. He would respect that.

So again, who are you to speak ill of the person he’s chosen for himself? Maybe he knows something you don’t, sees something in her that you haven’t.

Just…Why did it have to be Adaline?

He could have anyone, anyone—on campus, in the West, the East, for the love of god, he could have anyone in the entire ass realm he wants! It’s easy to forget when he speaks with his mouth full, dresses in baggy, comfy clothes, and whines about movie choices, but Jungkook is still Prince of the Western Shores. 

He’s still the most eligible bachelor on the continent.  

Yet somehow he chose the one person you can’t stand to be within 1000 feet of. He chose the one person you never thought he would’ve liked for himself because underneath everything, she is everything he claims to hate. 

He chose Adaline Dupree. 

So yeah, you wonder why he hid it from you. Why he felt like he couldn’t tell you. Sure, you hated her, but he doesn’t know that. Probably.

Maybe his love life is something he keeps private? Everyone has that right, and maybe that’s what he’s used to doing due to his every choice being splashed on every news and media outlet there is. 

You roll your eyes. Merciless vultures. 

So maybe he’s not used to sharing this side of himself with others. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you anything. 

And with all of this chaos now flitting around your brain, you failed to notice the little slice of pain behind your sternum the more they ricochet around up there. You’re hurt. 

You didn’t expect it to hurt. 

Out of everything you could feel about this: confusion, anger, exasperation, annoyance, you don’t feel any of them. You just feel upset that he didn’t come to you about it. Didn’t feel like he could discuss it with you. 

You are the person your friends—old and new—come to talk to. Always have been. You’re the one who has the rational, well thought out advice. The common sense distributor. The one sought out to help, regardless of the situation. 

And you love it. You love that you’re able to help your friends. Love that they trust you with such things. That you’re the person they seek assistance and guidance from. The ear they bounce their thoughts off of. You’ve always been told you have ‘knowledge beyond your years’ as your mother says. You take pride in that. It gives your life that much more meaning. 

So even though you don’t want to, and know you shouldn’t, because it has nothing to do with you and you know that…you’re taking this as somewhat of a personal blow. 

Maybe you’re losing your touch. You hope not.

But, you need to react like you normally would. Like you still hate the prince for how he humiliated Yuri, just like she hates Adaline for you. Solidarity between best friends, even if it’s fake.

Come on YN you got this, you think to yourself.

You [2:40pm]: I almost feel sorry for him. After how he treated you tho? They deserve each other

No they don’t, no they don’t, no they don’t. 

He deserves so much better.

SlurryYuri [2:40pm]: I’m just surprised he went for her tbh SlurryYuri [2:41pm]:  isnt she like a total bitch? To you at least?  SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: like just knowing what I do from the tiny bit of time I spent with him, she doesn’t really seem to be his type

Vindication!

You [2:42pm]: uh yeah, like 100% yes. Shes a rich party girl who doesnt know the word punishment, always gets what she wants, regardless if she works for it or not. And takes it when she especially doesnt deserve it You [2:43pm]: probably explains how she got him 🙄

Vivian pops outside to check in, and takes the couple steps to reach your table, some napkins and a large cup of water in hand.

“Hey! Are you okay? I saw that spit take and one; wow, that was impressive. But two; is everything alright?” she asks, passing you the napkins. The water gets thrown on the wall to wash off the splatter.

You wipe up your chin and remnants of projected hot chocolate on the table.

“Sorry, thank you. Yes, I’m fine,” you lie easily. A little scared of how easy it’s becoming. “I just learned some really shocking news is all. I shouldn’t have read it with a full mouth.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I hope whatever it is turns out fine.” 

“Thanks, me too.” 

You know Vivian means well, but she doesn’t know that that is the very last thing you want. You want Adaline’s corruptive, cutthroat, cruel nature away from Jungkook. 

But is he just Jungkook anymore?  

You’ve spent enough time together to consider him a friend, a close friend even. You’ve grown to care for him, platonically, similar to the way you do Yuri. And the fact that you want Adaline as far away from him as she can get so he doesn't go through whatever shit she’ll inevitably get him wrapped up in, definitely says something.

Adaline loves many things—art, fashion, publicity—but the thing she likes better than anything else? 

Attention.

She thrives on it. The more eyes on her the better. She’s a ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’ type, and you worry what that means for him.

Especially now that she’s taken them public—because you know it was her that did it, he would have never—and she’s going to be the hottest topic in all of the newest news cycles. 

Say they’ve been seeing one another since the beginning of the school year? Just a guess, but a likely correct one—you shiver at the thought. That’s less than seven weeks to get to know one another before camera crews and reporters start breathing down their necks. They’ll ask and comment on everything you thought you might go through at one point. But unlike you, Adaline will face it head on with a smile and win them over. Gladly welcome them with open arms.

Because exactly like Jungkook fears with everyone new, she desires everything a relationship with him would give her. 

Status, fame, power, wealth, brand sponsorships, popularity, jealousy, people wishing they could be her. You couldn’t build a better trap to lure her into if you tried. 

Jungkook is potentially unknowingly feeding her already enormous ego simply by publicly dating her. And it dawns on you that your classes with her are going to become even more insufferable.

Great. 

You don’t even know if she’s going to care that she has him. As wonderful, kind and talented as Jungkook is, you have a very good sense that she’ll be just like rest; happy to receive what he can give her, and not a damn to be given about him.

So now you worry. You worry for him and for his safety and for his feelings.

Because that’s what friends do. 

Right?

“Hey.”

You look up to see Jungkook rounding the back corner to the cafe, backpack slung over a shoulder, mask, hat and hoodie all too familiar. You’d be able to spot him a mile away now, it’s all in his posture and eyes. 

Maybe he should invest in some sunglasses. 

And slouch.

You’re elbows deep in yellow and brown paint from the sunflowers that now fill the canvas in front of you. You’ve been experimenting with texture, oil paint thicker in some places to give off a more 3D effect. Stripes of green carved into the medium by the edge of a long palette knife mimic stems, and fat leaves placed with precision also riddle the cloth. 

As he nears, you try your best not to come off as upset, pissed off or worried when you reply.

“Hey,” you fail miserably, sounding exactly like you’re all kinds of upset, and pissed off, and worried. 

Shit.

Like always, he notices immediately.

“Everything okay?” he’s taking his spot at the table beside you, the one that seats four, having abandoned his original one weeks ago. 

You two both found yourselves here so frequently that over time, he started sitting next to you without asking. Always in the same spots. Always side by side. Him at the closest chair to you, you at the same one you always have.

Sure, you two shared movie nights and fun messages, you talk everyday and pretty much talk about whatever you want. But when it comes to academics, he knows he has to tread water a little differently around you. He can’t constantly start conversations the way he would at movie night when you’re at the greenhouse cafe. You’re here to work and to study, and if he wants to be there too, he has to respect that about you, and know not to take it personally. 

So you work together in comfortable silence most of the time, occasionally breaking it to have a conversation, get snacks, or pose for one another’s homework. It’s become another routine you share, an unspoken agreement that when you were both there at the same time, you worked together. 

And you haven’t minded since that first time. The one when you decided to say yes to your friendship. 

You welcome it. Welcome him. His presence. 

Company’s nice to have when it’s wanted. 

When it’s him.

And whether you know it or not, you seem to work better when you are in each other's immediate orbit. You work better when he works alongside you, able to focus better due to body doubling and  to have a second opinion at the ready when you need it. Just like he worked better when you worked alongside him, a willing model any time he needed, and an open ear when he wanted to work something out.  

You two just work. And because of this, he also picks up when something isn’t quite right with the atmosphere you two have created. 

Play it off YN.

“Yeah, just focused. Sorry.”

He doesn’t believe you for a second. When you focus you have a very distinct look on your face, eyes clearer, an eyebrow constantly quirked in self reflection, and that isn’t the one you have on right now. 

But he lets it slide. For now. Somethings up with you, and he knows better than to push you before you’re ready.

“That’s okay. I’m running in, need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you go back to painting, barely acknowledging him and shutting out the outside world. 

Yeah, something’s definitely up.

You’re ignoring him so hard you don’t notice Jungkook lifting your hot chocolate just enough to feel it’s empty. 

Vivian’s behind the counter as he enters and takes off his mask to flash her a wide smile.

“Hey Vivian, how are you today?”

She blushes like she does every time he comes in, hands slowing in their task. 

“Hey JK, I’m good. You?” He had to ask her about a hundred times to drop the ‘your highnesses,’ ‘you majesty’s,’ and ‘prince’s.’ Telling her it really was okay, and that no, she wasn’t going to get in trouble for it. It took her some time, but eventually she came around and it’s made his experience here so much better. So much more normal.

She’d settled on JK because ‘it makes me feel like I’m listening to what you want while also not feeling guilty and weird about calling you Jungkook without the prince part.’

He could work with that logic.

“I’m alright, could I get my usual and a hot chocolate for YN? With a little extra secret ingredient if you're so inclined?” You shared the not so secret stash secret with Jungkook about a week after you said yes.  “She seems upset. Have you noticed anything off lately? Has she said anything to you?”

Jungkook peruses the pastry display while Vivian starts on his drink.

“Not really, she did a wicked spit take earlier about some news her friend told her, but said she was fine, just surprised. Besides that, focused maybe? Or maybe the opposite of that and a little distracted?” She thinks for a second. “Does she have an exam coming up that you know about? She gets a little weird before those.”

He knows exactly what’s meant by that. Witnessed it himself, bunny slippers and all.

But no, you don’t. Your midterms aren’t until the first week of November, nearly two weeks away. You started studying for them last week.

He spots egg tarts in the back corner of the pastry display, hiding. Perfect.

“I don’t think that’s it, but thanks though. I’ll get it out of her eventually, especially if I have one of those egg tarts to butter her up first,” he says in a questioning tone to ask for one while pointing at them.

Vivian smiles a knowing smile. He wants to know what it means because she’s worn it around him for a while now, and he’s half tempted to ask at this point. 

“I think that could be arranged.”

Jungkook pays and heads to your tables again. You’re still locked into your own world of colour and canvas. He subtly sets down the hot chocolate and bagged tart so that you won’t notice until you pop the bubble you’re in.

Halfway through a business assignment he hears your surprise. The weird look on your face finally breaking, a grateful one taking its place as you peek at him.

A soft, genuine, “thank you,” finds his ears as your lips meet lid, and you can’t meet his eye. He knows you often forget to drink or eat when you’re in the zone. 

Maybe now with a warm drink and some goodies in your belly, you’re willing to talk about it.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks again.

Your deep sigh and unfocused gaze says enough to him. 

You are willing to talk.

Quietly, almost ashamed sounding, you ask, “Why didn't you tell me about her?”

Her? 

Oh.

Oh… 

You meant Adaline. Why hadn’t he told you about Adaline. 

“Why did I find out an hour ago from Yuri screaming at me through text messages and not from you? Is it something you’re private about? Do you not trust me?”

The truth was that he was hoping to keep it under wraps for a bit longer, actually, hoping you never found out so he wouldn’t have to explain the reason why. 

He still doesn’t have too, and he won’t. Not the real reason.

He won’t ruin things. He can’t.

But he also should have known better. Should have known that not telling you would hurt you instead. Of course he trusted you.

You talk everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes just to check in. You hang out during the week, whether it be at the cafe like you are right now, or for Sunday movie night. 

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it was plenty when he thinks about how much time you two have already spent together, how much you’ve gotten to know one another. 

How comfortable you are in each other’s presence. 

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it feels like you’ve always been there with him, listening, cheering, supporting.

Six weeks isn't a long time, and yet it feels like it’s been forever.

Of course you’re hurt he didn’t tell you. So he doesn’t lie to you, but he also doesn’t tell you the full truth.

“Oh…uh, that.” He rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “That just kind of happened recently actually, like Monday recently. My father’s been really pressuring me to find someone to court,” and I couldn’t go with my first choice. “So I did.”

“And you went with Adaline?” You ask carefully.

“Uh, yeah? Is there something wrong with her?”

Adaline isn’t his first, second or tenth choice. She's his father’s choice. Might as well appease him and at least try with this girl. It’s going…fine, so far. 

Adaline wanted to make it social media official as soon as possible, wanted what he could give her, like everyone else. Like he expected. And so he willingly suffered through a photo session where she staged everything to make it look perfectly unposed and natural. Even though none of it was. 

She’d told him to put his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, and it worked. The picture wasn’t bad, they both looked great. But he hated it anyway. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, or sincere. It wasn’t a picture of two fools drunk on love, wanting to capture something beautiful for their future selves to look back on to reminisce over.

It was an uncomfortable hour and a half of touching and kissing a complete stranger, and it is the complete opposite of what he wants in a relationship. 

He wants genuine and carefree and candid. He wants honest, true feelings and social media posts saved for anniversaries and birthdays instead of using them as a mini documentary of every part of his life through pictures. 

He wants shitty birthday cakes made from scratch, and blurry polaroid pictures of kisses in the rain to put in his wallet when he’s away from them. He wants silly nicknames and inside jokes no one else will understand. 

He wants midnight walks hand in hand under moonlight and quirky habits he picks up from them. He wants pictures of precious moments and holidays celebrated between just the two of you and movie nights under blanket forts with popcorn and hot chocolate and egg tarts. 

He wants real.

He wants authentic. 

He wants love.

Not some staged artificial bullshit for an online presence that means nothing once you’re dead. 

But this is new and exciting for Adaline. He understands that a relationship with him is a very big deal, that she’s not used to it yet, and that it hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to see the true her yet. 

It’s only been 44 hours. Not that he’s counting.

So he’s going to give her some time, and have some faith that maybe she shows him that side of herself if it exists. He doesn't think she's going to change all that much for several reasons, the first being her enormous reputation, and the second being that she’s a politician's daughter, but he’s going to at least try. The way he hopes she will.

And if nothing does change, and she stays the exact same, at least she’s pretty enough to distract him. 

He knows that’s not the most mature or princely thing to do or think. In fact, he knows it’s quite asshole-ish of him, but if Adaline’s going to openly use him for her own personal gain, why shouldn’t he be able to use her just a little bit too? 

She isn’t unfamiliar with political relationships, having been born from one, so he doesn’t think she would be against it either. And it’s not like he’ll be mistreating her, quite the opposite in fact.

He’ll shower her with expensive gifts and happily take however many pictures she wants. He’ll smother her in physical affection and get or do whatever she needs in order to make her happy. 

Because as much as she clearly wants this relationship with him for whatever reason, he desperately needs it more with every passing day. He needs somewhere to put everything he’s feeling. And if that happens to be in a beautiful woman his father approves of who he could possibly, eventually grow feelings for? It’s a win-win in his book.

But at the same time, sometimes he really hates the shit he has to navigate in his Royal Life.

While Jungkook is caught in his thought spiral, you bite your tongue. Like actually bite your tongue. 

Don’t say shit Y/N. 

Don't say anything.

It’s not your business. What they have together and what’s between you and Adaline are completely separate, unrelated things. One’s a rivalry and one's a relationship. Those are not the same. 

At. All. 

So, still untrusting of your mouth, you shake your head and dodge his question by changing the direction of the conversation.

“Why did you go public so quickly?” you ask, feeling like it’s the safest question you can muster. “It’s literally only been two days.”

He shrugs. “She wanted to, and I didn’t say no.”

“Courseshedid,” you mutter under your breath. That should’ve been red flag number one. Two days? Who goes social media official after two days!?

“What?”

“Nothing,” you try your best to give him the closest thing to a smile you can currently muster, forcibly removing any acid from every word. “I hope she makes you happy.”

He doesn’t tell you she was hand picked by the king for him.

That at twenty-four, he still isn’t pulling all of his own strings. It’s pathetic.

“Me too.” 

He hopes she’ll help more than anything. Even if it’s just for a little while. “I’ve never been in a public relationship before. But the kingdom and my father seem to like her, so I’m sure I will too, with time.” 

It takes all of your focus not to roll your eyes.

Of course they do. Of course the King already likes her, she’s got the attitude and knowledge for politics, so she’s perfect! Strong potential to be the heartless, ruthless Queen to what you already know will be Jungkook's kind and giving King. 

Great! Just great. That’s just…great…

Maybe you’re biased. Maybe there’s something in her that you can’t see because of your past with her. 

Maybe they really are perfect for one another and you just refuse to see it. Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Well Jungkook and Adaline couldn’t be more opposite of one another.

So you decide that you won’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That you’ll keep the peace and support his choice, regardless of your opinion of her, even if you hate his choice. 

And you really hate his choice.

“I have no doubt.”

The seat heater in the car you rented to pick Nel up from the airport keeps your tush toasty while you drive. 

Friday night has never felt so exciting!

You can barely sit still, the leg not pressing the pedals won’t stop bouncing and you have to sit on your hands at stop lights to try and keep calm.

God you missed him, it's only been two months since you last saw him, and yet it feels like forever. 

You have the piece of printer paper with ‘Smoosh’ printed on it in the biggest font you could have horizontally. It’s something you do every year, and every year it never fails to bring the biggest smile to Nel’s face when you wave it wildly the second you see him.

Pulling up to the terminal you keep your eyes peeled for the first parking spot you can find. Never an easy feat at this particular airport but you manage to find one somewhere in the J lot under section 1, whatever that meant. All you care about right now is that you’re decently close to the doors as you grab your phone, bag, sign, and that you’re perfectly on time.

Entering through sliding doors, you find the waiting area mostly empty, so you pick the best place to sit as you wait for his flight to land: dead center and up front. 

You can’t wait. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see him. 

You can’t wait. You can’t wait. You can't wait!

Your phone dings and you jump at it, looking for the ‘I’ve landed’ text from Nel, but it’s not from Nel.

It’s from Jungkook.

Me [10:42pm]: See you in a week. I hope you enjoy your time with Nel.

That sounds okay, right? It sounds neutral? Safe?

Like he hasn’t been dreading this week since that day you told him about it?

Jungkook hopes so. Because he wants you to enjoy your week off.

Your week off with Nel. 

And not him. 

That’s normal, he has to remind himself. That he’s not anyone particularly special to you, just a friend. Not someone you would go out of your way for to spend all your free time with over break. Not even for two hours on Sunday nights.

Just a regular, average, nothing important about him…

Friend. 

He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to have all of these… whatever these feelings are, about and for you.

He really doesn’t want to. But more than that, he can’t. 

He can’t have any sort of non-platonic feelings for the first person who didn’t give a shit about who he was. For the person who makes him feel more like himself than anyone else. 

For the person who has a boyfriend. 

For the person who isn’t his girlfriend.

For the person who’s you.

But he can’t fucking help it!

So he’s been shoving them down, down, down. So far down that he’s able to function around you. 

Because it’s you. 

You’re kind, and caring. Talented, beautiful, giving. Driven, smart. You respect what he asks for and what he wants for himself, not because he's the Prince demanding, but because it's him—because it’s Jungkook—that asks you, and you liste–

No! Stop it. He can’t. He can’t!

Stop, stop, stop—

You have Nel! 5 years in, loving, loyal boyfriend, probably soon to be more after graduation, Nel.

It’s expected that you would spend what little time off you have with the boyfriend you barely get to see, wouldn’t it? Makes sense that every second you have, is saved for him? 

For being happy with who makes you happy? 

Jungkook wants to see you happy. And Nel makes you happier than he’s ever seen you before, so he can’t be too upset with the guy, even though he wants to be. He wants to hate him. But how could he hate someone that gave you the smile that completely shatters his heart. 

Picasso [10:43pm]: Thanks! I will. See you soon😊

With a broken smile, he turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket.

He’s up against a wall, red cup in his hand filled with something that he’s barely touched yet, trying not to be too noticeable.

Adaline’s dragged him to some party on campus he really doesn't care about. But she said it would be good to be seen out together now that things are official. 

Out in the open, for everyone to see. For everyone to talk about.

So he went, because she asked him to. 

And now he’s regretting it. The music is shit, the people smell and everything he touches is damp or sweaty. This isn’t a part of the university experience he ever intended on participating in, but here he is. 

Adaline appears from the crowd, walking over to where he stands, a cup of her own in one hand and the other finding its way to his neck. 

One thing Jungkook’s glad for is the alcohol. Something to help his racing thoughts, pounding heart, and roiling gut. Something to drown out the world. Even if he’s only had two gulps so far. 

More, then. 

Taking a hefty swig he revels in the burn that crawls down his throat. It feels good, it makes him feel less. So he takes another one and another, and then pours his turmoiled feelings about you and Nel into Adaline’s lips. Shoving them down, further and further, until it’s like they were never even there in the first place.

The only thing that's there now is the fire in his stomach, Adaline, and her cherry flavoured lip gloss.

Chapter Six: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

A/N 2: I'm so sorry this took for literal ever. I never intend on taking forever but unfortunately real life gets in the way and I'm left with no creative energy to output writing I'm proud of.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[linawritesficsies]

s.h. | we need to warm up (one shot)

a/n: it's been a while since i posted a steve fic, so here it issssss. this is a combination of a friends episode and a scene from an old tv show i used to watch when i was a teenager.

warnings: being locked up in closed spaces, language, mentions of sex and injuries (freezing), english is not my first language. some stuff may not be accurate. MINORS DNI. credits to the gif owner!

summary: steve and you worked at scoops ahoy together and one day while you two were bickering about something silly, you got stuck in a walk-in refrigerator.

steve harrington x afab!oc!reader.

🚫do NOT copy, translate or put my work thru an AI.

Robin, your best friend, helped you get this job at Scoops Ahoy a couple of months ago. The work itself wasn’t ideal because you had to put up with a lot of annoying people (and cleaning toilets wasn’t very appealing either), but the pay was pretty good and it allowed you to combine it with your study schedule. The best parts were obviously the free ice cream and sharing shifts with your bestie.

You also had to share several shifts with Steve Harrington. You didn’t like him at first if you were being completely honest. You knew him from before because you had shared a few classes at Hawkins High, but you never actively talked to him. He was very handsome and charming, but his reputation of being a womanizer and a douchebag preceded him so for you that was enough to keep your distance.

However, everything changed when you took on this job. On the bright side, has had some personal growth over the last few months so this made spending time with him a lot easier. Of course, the King Steve persona sometimes came into the light and he could get insufferable, but you still enjoyed his company. You could say you had more of a ‘frenemies’ relationship. Definitely, one of the things that amused you the most was bickering with Steve, so when the work day was quiet, you’d pick a silly argument just for the sake of it. 

Thus, that’s what led the two of you to discuss the topic of sex in the middle of one casual Saturday afternoon in mid-September at Scoops Ahoy. The weather was chiller than the one from previous weeks, but there were some people that weren’t going to let the climate get in the way of getting ice cream. You couldn’t blame them though. Robin was at the register machine, getting the customers’ orders and Steve and you were organizing the stock at the back of the shop.

“Harrington, are you really saying that kissing and foreplay are not as important as the sex part!?”, you exclaimed a bit too loudly while you glared at your coworker with a questioning look. He just quirked his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders meaning ‘Yes, I said what I said. Deal with it.’

You didn’t feel any shame talking about these topics. In fact, you were pretty bold. Especially with Steve. He had that vibe that made everyone around him feel comfortable with discussing or doing anything. Of course. King Steve, ladies and gentlemen. 

“Why would I prefer the opening act when I know I’ll be seeing, I dunno, The Police soon?”

You let out a chuckle.

“You have been spending more time with Eddie, haven’t you?”, he gave you a mocking look. It was no secret that Steve wasn’t a fan of Eddie, especially because recently he had been stealing Dustin’s attention and that made Steve more jealous than he cared to admit. You couldn’t help but smile at the cuteness of Steve and Dustin’s relationship and his jealousy.

You grabbed one of the boxes with new ice cream flavours that were recently delivered to the shop because you had to carry them to the walk-in refrigerator, but since the two boxes were really heavy you asked Steve for help. At first he pretended to ignore you, but then he smiled teasingly and grabbed the other one to give you a hand. You had trouble deciding whether you hated that smile or you loved it… It was probably the latter. 

As soon as you entered the refrigerator, the chilly air hit your skin. You carefully placed the box you were carrying on the floor and put the door wedge so it wouldn’t close while you were in there. The door was pretty heavy because it needed to stay shut in order to keep the temperature low, but also, the door handle wasn’t working pretty well.

“Anyways, for us girls they’re really equally important”, you resumed your little argument while you two arranged the ice creams on the various shelves, categorizing them by their flavor. “We can get all the information we need about the other person from the first kiss. I can’t believe you don’t like it.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eye and noticed that he rolled his.

“No, honey”, he paused and sighed. You screamed internally at the pet name. He usually called you by your name or ‘Smarty Pants’ whenever you gave him witty comebacks. “It’s not that I don’t like it. I do, but I’d rather get down to the real business quicker.”

“Well, hun, friendly advice, if you keep thinking like that, you’ll have to settle with solo concerts.”

Steve wanted to give you the middle finger so badly but couldn’t do it because he had his hands full so he had to contempt himself by sticking out his tongue in a mocking tone. You gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder and then he gave you another one back but Steve was stronger than you so you tripped backwards and accidentally kicked the door wedge and the refrigerator door closed. 

“Fuck”, the two of you blurted out in unison; your heartbeats picking up rapidly. You exchanged looks and frowned your eyebrows at the same time. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed at the synchronicity.

“This is your fault.”

“How is this my fault, Harrington? You pushed me!”, you replied back while you got up from the floor and adjusted your uniform.

“You made me come in here!”

“I simply asked for your help!”

You decided it was useless to continue with this bickering so you kneeled down before the door handle to try to make it work. However, it was useless. The door refused to budge. You had repeatedly asked Keith, your boss, to call the repair guy to fix said handle but of course he never did. You cursed him under your breath while you got back up and started screaming and banging on the door.

“ROBIN! HELP! SOMEBODY”, Steve joined you but nobody seemed to hear. “HELLO, WE’RE INSIDE THE REFRIGERATOR!”, you both screamed over and over again.

“I hope Robin notices quickly we’re nowhere to be seen. If not, we’re going to freeze to death”, you lifted your hands to massage your scalp, trying to prevent yourself from spiraling. Extremely difficult task given the not so encouraging situation. You didn’t consider yourself a claustrophobic person but you weren’t a fan.

“Don’t exaggerate, Y/N. It’s just a little bit of cold”, he shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing off your very real concern. 

If looks could kill, he would be reduced to ashes right now. 

“Unlike you, I don’t have teenage-like hormones, Steve. I get cold easily.”

He was about to reply with another witty comment, but he noticed how anxious you were getting. He saw your right leg start bouncing rapidly and how you bit your fingernails—subtle things you did when you were nervous or distressed. He had noticed them before. He let out a defeated sigh.

“OK, I’m being serious right now: we’re going to get out of here in a heartbeat, don’t worry.” 

You went back to the screaming and banging, hoping that someone outside would hear you at that very moment and get you out of there. Unfortunately, you were alone with the echoes of your voice and movements. Meanwhile, Steve was pacing the small place, thinking of any other possible escape. 

After some minutes that felt like hours, the cold and the confinement were starting to take a toll on you. You sat on the floor with your back against the door to keep hitting it, more occasionally now. The Scoops Ahoy uniform was not enough to keep you warm; your body started trembling so you hugged yourself, keeping your knees close to your chest. Steve heard your shivering breaths. He scanned the ‘room’ one more time and saw the empty cardboard boxes stacked where you had been organizing the ice cream.

“We can use the empty ice cream boxes to keep us warm”, you gave him a questioning look. encouraging him to clarify. “We can break them down to sit on them and then put the other parts over our bodies”.

“God bless that big head of yours, Harrington.”, you smiled and tried to stand up but it wasn’t as easy as before. Your body was getting stiffer. Steve gave you a hand.

The two of you started tearing up the boxes and placing the flattened pieces on the floor next to the door and then cutting up bigger sections to use as makeshift blankets. 

“Well, it’s better than nothing”, Steve commented once you were all set and you agreed, keeping the cardboard boxes as close to your body as possible. 

It was far from being the perfect solution, but it worked… for a couple of minutes. Then, you started shivering again. You got up to the point where you could no longer feel your legs. You wanted to keep screaming and banging on the door but the little energy you had was starting to wear off. You decided to save it for later.

“Fuck, it’s so cold in here. I can’t stand it anymore”, you blurted out, more to yourself than anything and tried to rub your hands violently against your legs to get some warmth.

“Come here”, Steve whispered while opening his arms, motioning you to huddle closer to him so you could share whatever body heat you had left. It was true, Steve had a higher body temperature than any other person either of you knew but he wasn’t sure of how much that was going to last. He was feeling colder too.

You were hesitant to accept his embrace at first because you weren’t used to sharing physical contact with him but you quickly decided that it was worth trying it. Once you were beside him, he put his arms around your shaking frame and put two cardboard boxes over both your bodies. He rested his head on top of yours and you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Despite everything, this felt strangely nice and comfortable.

“We’re gonna get out of here, I promise”, he said after some silence and you could see the wisps of vapor that looked like smoke coming out of his mouth. 

You were too tired and weak to say or do anything. It seemed the temperature kept dropping every second. There was some frost on your hair and your eyelashes. Steve had it on his perfect hair too. At this moment, you actually believed you were going to die there. You snuggled closer into Steve’s embrace; not that it was really possible because you were practically glued to him.

You slowly started to drift off; your eyelids felt like two bricks of concrete. Steve went into alert mode when he felt you relax under his touch. “Hey, Y/N. Can you hear me?”

You let out a barely audible “Mh” and he started rubbing circles on your arm, close to your elbow.

“Stay awake, OK?”

He knew you couldn’t fall asleep if you had hypothermia. He didn’t know why but he remembered one of his biology teachers who explained that your body functions would slow down even more, which could be deadly. He didn’t even want to imagine that happening. 

At first, he didn’t want to admit he liked you because you were a pain in the neck, but then, as he spent more and more time with you, he learned you were funny, smart, and although you annoyed him to boredom sometimes, you were kind-hearted. Also, you had one of the most contagious laughs he has ever heard. And on top of that, you were insanely pretty. 

This drastic situation helped him realize he didn’t want to lose you, in any way. He couldn’t.

“I can’t.”, you whispered once again.

“Yes, you can”, his hands moved upwards to cup both your cheeks now; his desperate eyes fixed on your face. “Open your eyes, please, darling”. You wanted to laugh at the nickname but you didn’t even have the strength to do so. His voice was trembling now too. He didn’t know if out of the cold he was feeling or of the fear of something happening to you. He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Come on, I wanna see those pretty eyes.”

“I’m cold, Stevie. I’m sorry.”

You only used that nickname to tease him because he hated it. Now, it scratched his brain just right. He didn’t fail to notice you looked so small, so fragile. He didn’t know how, but he could feel you slip away from him.

“No, no, no, no”, he blurted out quickly. “Y/N, listen to me. Focus on my voice and my hands”, he rubbed circles on both of your cheeks. “Don’t fall asleep. Talk to me.”

His serious but also desperate tone made you realize the gravity of your state.

“About what?”, you whispered as you tried to get your whole attention to his gentle touches and his breathing. 

“About anything. Tell me a secret, a memory, an embarrassing story. Whatever comes to your mind, just talk to me.”

You gathered strength out of nowhere and opened your eyes. You saw Steve sigh with a little bit of relief. He also looked exhausted and cold, but there was something in his eyes that told you he was not giving up easily. You couldn’t say so for yourself, sadly.

“Your pretty eyes are the last pair I’m going to see”, you spoke slowly. Steve’s heart broke a little at your statement.

“No, don’t say things like that.. I need you to stay here with me. Please. I need you to stay alive so I can take you on a date when we’re out of here”, his voice and the movements on your skin were starting to slow down too. “I don’t want to leave this planet before kissing your beautiful lips.”

You gave him a weak smile.

“Do it now, Stevie.”

He lifted his eyebrows, thinking he heard you incorrectly. But then, you directed your eyes to his own lips, so he took it as an invitation and wasted no time. The kiss was slow and short but sweet nonetheless. None of you had much energy to keep going for longer, much to your dismay.

“That’s the way to warm up, right?”, he joked and you let out a choked laugh.

You went back to your tight embrace. You weren’t sure how much time you had left. You stopped trembling a couple of minutes ago and you knew that wasn’t a good sign. You thought about your family and your friends. One single tear fell from your left eye.

Just about when Steve was going to wipe it, you heard some noises on the other side of the door. You two looked at each other and Steve used the adrenaline rush to get back on his feet and helped you do the same.

“HELP, WE’RE STUCK IN THE REFRIGERATOR. PLEASE HELP”, Steve was the one yelling and you attempted to bang the door as loud as you could.

And then, the door finally opened. You squinted your eyes due to the sudden change of lightning and tried to make out the silhouette that was standing in front of you, but before you could see who it was or do anything else, your legs gave in and your vision went black, which resulted in you passing out on the ground.

Your eyelids fluttered open as the characteristic antiseptic hospital smell hit your nose. The sterile white walls were the first thing you saw. Your body still felt cold, even though you had several blankets wrapped around your frame. You turned your head to the side and saw Steve sitting on a chair, wrapped on a blanket as well. His eyes were closed and his head was slightly tilted to the side. He looked worn off but really adorable.

“Steve?”, you called his name but you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was really sore. The boy opened his eyes and gave you a sweet smile. There was a mixture of relief and concern in his look.

“Hey… You gave us quite the scare.” You apologized and he shrugged it off. “Your parents are already here. They’re filling out the paperwork.” He grabbed the chair and moved it forward to be closer to your bed. Then he grabbed your hand that was hidden under the blankets. “I should call the doctor to let her know you had woken up.”

You nodded but refused to let his hand go so he could stand up. His heart melted.

“We need to talk about our date”, you casually mentioned between giggles.

“You don’t waste a minute, don’t you?”, he chuckled, shaking his head. “I assure you, it’s going to be a date to die for.” Now it was your turn to laugh. 

aaaand the end... i hope you enjoyed it! and as always, i'd love to read some comments with your opinions :) and i'm also taking request, so there's your chance to leave a nice ask 💗

[jazzy96scorpio]

Yes of course any idea you have send it. Just give me the details 😊 I'm glad I can write for you. // It's me again, who asked 😅😅.

Could you write a funny/fluff one about Pedro x reader. Like the reader is visiting Pedro on the set of Fantastic Four in Oviedo and everyone makes Pedro being protective/jealous over the reader because the crew and his cast members (Coco included) makes him blush every time they tell him how happy he looks after he finally opened his heart to a serious relationship. Like the reader could maybe tell them some jokes about how goofy Pedro is around the house, or he almost burnt the whole house cause he can't cook 🤣🤣

(if my husband sees this: babe I love you, thanks for he inspo)

My Boyfriend, the Firestarter

Here is your request it was a quickly written 😁 I hope so you are gonna like it ❣️

Description: Burnt chicken, jealous extras, and a whole lot of love. This lighthearted story chronicles the ups and downs of dating Pedro Pascal in secret, proving that even a famous actor can be a dorky sweetheart (who occasionally sets things on fire).

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️: Lot of love and fluff

The crisp Oviedo air nipped at your cheeks as you huddled deeper into your oversized coat, watching Pedro film a scene.

He was seriously captivating, even when he wasn't just being Pedro. The director yelled "Action!", and boom – he was someone else entirely, this tough, seen-it-all kind of guy. You knew the real Pedro was a goofy and shy sweetheart with a surprisingly bookish side, a version the world rarely got to see.

That was your secret, and you cherished it.

Keeping your relationship under wraps had been Pedro's idea. He valued his privacy, and after a string of fleeting romances, he wanted something real, something away from the glare of the paparazzi.

You understood. It wasn't always easy, but the stolen moments, the whispered "I love you"s in quiet corners, made it all the more special.

As they were filming some extra dude strolled by offering a polite smile. You smiled back, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pedro’s gaze narrow.

His jaw tightened, and he totally messed up his line which, of course, the crew found hilarious.

"Cut!" the director yelled. "Pedro, you okay? Lost in thought?"

Pedro shot a angry glare at the guy, though he was trying to play it cool.

He mumbled something about needing a coffee break and he grabbed your hand, practically dragging you off set.

"Someone's a little jealous," Coco, his hair groomer and close friend, chuckled, winking at you. Coco was one of the few who knew about your relationship, and he delighted in teasing Pedro.

"I'm not jealous," Pedro protested, though his flushed cheeks said otherwise. He pulled you into a quiet corner, away from prying eyes. "Just…protective."

"I know, babe " you said, reaching up to smooth a stray curl from his forehead. "And I appreciate it."

"He was practically drooling over you," Pedro grumbled, though a smile played on his lips.

"He smiled politely," you corrected, laughing. "Besides, I only have eyes for you."

Pedro’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace.

"That's what I like to hear," he whispered, kissing you softly. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, coffee. And then…maybe we can sneak off somewhere later?"

The thought of spending some quiet time with Pedro, away from the set and the watchful eyes of the crew, made your heart flutter. Being with him, even amidst the chaos of his career, was the best feeling in the world. And as you walked hand-in-hand towards the catering tent, you knew that no matter how famous he was, no matter how many handsome extras smiled your way, your heart belonged to Pedro Pascal, the man behind the actor. And his heart, you knew, belonged to you.

You and Pedro grabbed some empanadas and settled at a table when, inevitably, the cavalry arrived. Coco, naturally, was first, followed by Vanessa, Joseph, and Ebon, his co-stars. The whole crew seemed to show up around you and Pedro.

The conversation buzzed with set stories and inside jokes, and then, Coco, never one to miss an opportunity, piped up, "Pedro, you seem…radiant. Dare I say…happy?"

Vanessa chimed in, "Seriously, Pedro. You've got that glow. Is there something you're not telling us?"

Joseph raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Finally settling down, are we? Someone's tamed the wild Pascal."

Ebon, always the joker, added, "Next thing we know, you'll be wearing matching sweaters and adopting a golden retriever."

Pedro blushed and stammering, "Guys, come on…" He glanced at you, a mix of amusement and slight panic in his eyes.

You squeezed his hand under the table, giving him a reassuring smile.

"They're right, actually," you said, deciding to put him out of his misery. "He is happy. And yes, he is in a serious relationship. With me."

A chorus of "Oohs" and "Finally!" erupted from the group. Pedro looked at you, his expression softening.

"He's amazing," you continued, ignoring the playful whistles. "Even if he did almost kill me that one time."

"Hey! It was a rogue toaster oven!" Pedro protested.

"And he almost burned down my kitchen trying to make me chicken soup when I had the flu," you added, grinning. "It smelled like burnt rubber and despair."

"In my defense, the recipe said 'sear the chicken,' and I wasn't entirely clear on the definition," Pedro mumbled.

Everyone burst out laughing.

"But seriously," you said, turning to Pedro, your voice softening.

"He's the most wonderful, goofy, caring man I've ever met. And I’m crazy about him."

You leaned in and kissed him, a sweet, lingering kiss that shut down any further teasing. When you pulled back, Pedro was beaming, his earlier embarrassment forgotten.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I love you too," he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. And in that moment, surrounded by the laughter and chatter of his friends and colleagues, you knew that your secret, while now shared, was still something precious, something uniquely yours and Pedro’s.

Later that night, back in your hotel room, the city lights twinkled outside as you cuddled close to Pedro. He was scrolling through his phone, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"You know," he said, finally putting his phone down, "I'm really…really happy."

"Me too," you whispered, nuzzling into his side.

"I mean…seriously happy," he clarified, his eyes searching yours. "I want…I want this to be something real. Something…forever."

Your heart did a little flip. "Me too, Pedro."

He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Maybe…maybe you could come with me to the premiere?" he asked, a touch of nerves in his voice.

"I'd love that," you said, squeezing his hand.

He pulled you closer, his gaze intense. "I mean it," he murmured. "I want to be with you…forever. Whenever you're ready…I'm ready."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Pedro," you said, your voice thick with emotion, "I love you. I will love you forever. And I'm so incredibly lucky to have you. You're an amazing man."

He kissed you gently, a slow, tender kiss. When he finally broke the kiss, he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"So," he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, "about the rest of the night…I was thinking…we could do some things?"

He nuzzled his nose against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "Naughty?"

He trailed a finger down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "Definitely spicy"

You laughed, playfully shoving him. "You're incorrigible," you said, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

"Hey," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, "a man's gotta have priorities."

He nipped playfully at your earlobe, making you gasp. "And mine," he continued, his voice husky, "are definitely…you."

He pulled you closer, his eyes burning with a playful intensity. "Unless," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, "you had other plans?"

You met his gaze, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Oh," you whispered back, "we'll just have to see where the night takes us."

After fun and naughty time as you drifted off to sleep later, wrapped in his arms, you knew that the "forever" he spoke of wasn't just a word. It was a promise, a feeling, a shared dream. And you, you were ready for it. Ready for forever, with Pedro, and whatever delicious surprises he had in store.

To all husbands if your wife is reading this,

SHE LOVES YOU..And she just likes to read 😉 Let her enjoy 😊

Thank you for your request and reading 💜

It was my pleasure ❣️

[hyorijie]

Valentine's Day Special

Little Dear | Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings Smut, Nsfw, Alastor is in hell for a reason, possessiveness, attraction, sexual tension, strangers to lovers, P in V, raunchy sex, creampie, Lector is in hell for a reason, bratty attitude, Discord (Lucifer), MDNI, Typical canon violence, Mafia implications, Mimzy knows who is Reader, lots of bad language. Summary Fleeing a fate worse than damnation, your steps lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, the most ridiculed place in all of Hell. You couldn't have come at a worse time much less crossed paths with the worst person in Hell. N: I'm sorry for the delay, there were some technical problems (disease) but here I bring this piece of smut, enjoy! Second story coming soon *wink*.

Of all the places you could be right now, you never imagined you would end up in front of the huge, decadent Hazbin Hotel, the place that all hell was making fun of as if it were a bad joke. A place that, for many, was nothing more than a badly told joke, a ridiculous fantasy of redemption in a world where forgiveness was as scarce as sunlight.

And you were beginning to think you had arrived at the worst possible moment.

Your gaze swept over the scene in front of you, trying to process the spectacle of overflowing tension unfolding between the King of Hell and the radio demon.

How had you ended up right in the middle of this? Just another tenant in a hotel that sold itself as a haven of redemption, caught up in a game of egos that vibrated with static electricity and bad intentions.

Cornered between facing the consequences of your decisions or running away without dignity, you had chosen the latter. But now you were here, caught in a storm of power and influence where every glance carried a different poison.

The nervous twitch in Alastor's eye did not go unnoticed by you. His usual mischievous grin was stiff, the pressure of his jaw evident even beneath the glint of his sharp expression. One glance and you knew this was going downhill imminently.

Lucifer stood there, with his imposing bearing - despite his short stature - and that damned smile of false courtesy, holding his staff with an apple on the tip, as if this was all a game that he was assured of winning. Alastor, for his part, remained steadfast, radiating a presence that darkened the atmosphere, especially when his hands rested too familiarly on Charlie's shoulders.

It was an instant, a spark, but enough for Lucifer to intervene. His smile didn't falter for a second, but the way he pushed Alastor's hand away with a swipe of his forearm made his displeasure clear.

You watched as Alastor brought his hand to the affected area and slowly stroked it with his fingertips, without losing his smile.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Not from the blow, but from the look the red demon cast towards the sovereign.

It was not anger.

And yet, it was still something dangerous.

You rolled your eyes, feeling that you were witnessing the most ridiculous and dangerous rivalry at the same time. As if both were two beasts in a territorial duel, using gestures and sharp words instead of claws and fangs.

—Charlie, daughter, why don't you introduce me to your other friends? — Lucifer exclaimed in a light tone, his melodic and charming voice echoing in the air. His staff was raised a little higher, the red apple glowing in the light.

Charlie broadly, trying to hide the obvious tension in the air.

— Oh, of course! Dad, this is Vaggie, my girlfriend.— replied the princess, as she looked at Vaggie with a cozy, sweet affection.

The King of Hell seemed to exhale with relief at hearing the word "bride," as if that dispelled any misconceptions that hovered in his mind about the closeness between his daughter and Alastor. The latter, however, remained in the background, his dark eyes watching the scene closely.

It was only for a second, but you felt his gaze meet yours.

That simple eye contact was enough for a shiver to settle on your back.

You didn't know how long you were caught in that exchange of glances until Charlie grabbed your arm, abruptly pulling you out of your thoughts and away from Alastor's enveloping presence.

— And she, Dad, is our new tenant. —Charlie announced excitedly.Lucifer turned his attention to you, and for the first time, examined you with genuine curiosity.

—Well...— he whispered, smiling a broad, refined smile.

In his bright gaze something difficult to decipher. Perhaps surprise. Perhaps interest. Or maybe he was just evaluating something he himself found fascinating.

As if it was the first time he had seen a sinner without obvious demonic traits.He stepped forward and took your hand gently, bending slightly to bring it to his lips.

— It's such a pleasure.— he murmured, his silky voice bordering on charming and calculating.

His touch was brief, just a light pressure of his lips against your skin, but enough to send a shiver through you. You knew how to hide it well, keeping your expression serene, but when Lucifer winked at you in an uncovered way, the discomfort became more evident inside you.

Instinctively, your gaze lifted... and you made a grave mistake.

Alastor was no longer simply staring.

No.

The twitch in his eye had intensified, his smile was strained to the point of looking like an edge about to tear. His brow barely furrowed, his fingers gripping his cane with calculated pressure.

The atmosphere became dense, and without warning, the sharp stroke of his staff broke the contact between your hand and Lucifer's.

— Oh, what a pity, your majesty! —Alastor intoned with venomous politeness, bowing his head in mock apology.— I didn't notice.

The impact resounded, but Lucifer only raised an eyebrow, smirking.

— How clumsy, Alastor. I'm surprised you're not more careful. — Alastor kept his smile, but the darkness in his eyes intensified.

— It's a flaw of mine, I suppose.— he replied with wry lightness, as his fingers gripped his staff tighter.

The air around him vibrated with a slight crackle of static.

And then, the tension exploded in a crossfire of words laden with mockery, defiance and hatred disguised as diplomacy. Subtle insults and veiled jabs of arrogance filled the air until, finally, Alastor dropped the entire facade of politeness with a single word, one that escaped his mouth with a charge of pure irritation.

— Fuck you! — The filter in his voice distorted the word, but the rage hidden in it was impossible to ignore.

Lucifer blinked, then laughed. Not with genuine amusement, but with the kind of laughter of someone enjoying an impending fight.

And you, caught in the middle of it all, could only wonder how the hell you were going to get out of there without the situation becoming even more chaotic.

Because if one thing was certain...It was that the storm was just beginning.

The air was already tense, charged with the growing hostility between Lucifer and Alastor, when suddenly a third voice broke into the conversation.

— I've arrived, Al!

The high-pitched, overly animated sound contrasted with the gravity of the moment, causing a regretful silence in the room. Everyone present turned their heads towards the newcomer, with the same puzzled expression, as a hulking figure strode forward with a firm step and imposing attitude.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, visibly irritated by the interruption.

— Ah, Who? — he asked coolly, his eyebrow arching as he didn't recognize the voice.

But the answer came before anyone could explain.

— Mimzy, of course! — Your stomach cringed at the sound of that name.

As soon as your eyes recognized her, they widened like saucers. Mimzy. That damn woman.

Murmurs began to spread through the room as the relationship between her and Alastor became apparent. Her closeness with the radio demon, the familiarity with which she had called him...even the slight relaxation in Alastor's posture at the sight of her.

A new detail that left everyone in shock.

Alastor, who barely and barely tolerated the presence of most, seemed... pleased with her arrival.

But the worst was not that.

The worst was that, after scanning the room with an air of superiority, Mimzy fixed her attention on Lucifer, and her expression changed. His eyes shone with a particular sparkle, his face took on a smile of fascination and admiration.

Oh, of course.

Now she was also dazzled by the ruler of Hell.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore her as you discreetly slid up to the bar. You grabbed a glass at random and raised it slowly, pretending to be more interested in the drink than the new arrival.

Maybe, just maybe, if you didn't look at her, she wouldn't notice you.

But you knew it was a futile hope.

Your hunch was confirmed when Mimzy, with all the confidence in the world, advanced to the bar and settled next to you, waiting for Husk to pour her something strong.Your breathing remained steady, but your body was stiff.

Angel Dust, at your side, seemed much more interested in deciphering the relationship between Mimzy and Alastor than in noticing your discomfort.

But Mimzy did notice.

She watches you with a slight frown, as if trying to remember where she met you.

And then, it happened.

Her expression changed completely when she recognized your face.

—So here you were! — she exclaimed, his shrill tone piercing your ears like a rusty nail.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you reacted immediately.

— I don't know what you're talking about, I don't know you,— you answered in a modulated voice, trying to feign disinterest.

But it was too late.

Mimzy didn't buy your act for a second.

Her eyes narrowed and a smile full of venom spread across her face.

— Come on...— she murmured, leaning toward you with a sweet but intent tone. — You left everyone dead by your departure.

The sentence was carefully constructed. It was not a simple comment, but an accusation disguised as nostalgia.

You knew exactly what he meant.Your throat went dry for a moment, but before you could respond, before you could even process the weight of his words...An explosion reverberated through the hotel.

The walls vibrated violently, the lights flickered, and the deafening roar of the detonation rippled through the building, throwing several of those present to the floor.

Chaos erupted in an instant.

Cries of confusion and alarm rose, mingling with the crunch of falling debris. Husk cursed loudly, covering his head, as Angel Dust clung to the counter to keep from being knocked over.

Your glass shattered against the floor as the impact jolted you, but you didn't have time to worry about it.

Turning your head, your pulse racing and your mind still shaken by the recent explosion that had erupted before your eyes, you found Mimzy in a state of absolute hysteria. Her hands were shaking, her eyes moving frantically, as if her mind was trying to calculate at full speed the next step.

You frowned suspiciously. There was something about her reaction that didn't quite add up. It wasn't just fear, but an unmistakable certainty that she knew exactly what was going on.

And make no mistake.

The clatter of furious pounding against the gate echoed through the air, followed by a male voice exploding with

—Mimzy! You fucking bitch, we know you're here. — The threat came with the force of thunder, echoing off the walls, charged with hatred and the promise of imminent violence.

Your breathing stopped for a moment. That tone... that voice... A shiver ran down your spine as your mind immediately identified it. The world around you seemed to vanish for a second.

— Holy shit... — you whispered, feeling your heart hammering in your chest.

But you were not alone in that recognition. Next to you, Mimzy murmured exactly the same thing.

Her eyes met yours. You didn't need words to understand what that meant. You were both running from the same nightmare.

Before you could process it, a blinding glow illuminated the room and a portal burst open. From inside emerged Charlie, his father and Vaggie. The latter, with a frown on her face and her voice heavy with tension, asked:

— ¿Qué carajo? — Vaggie exclaimed coming out of the portal.

Chaos was tangible in the air. Mimzy, still panting, confessed with a frustrated addition:

— I fucked those bastards.

Of course, you wouldn't judge her. You had done exactly the same thing. But there was a problem.

They didn't know you were here.

— Hey, you filthy pieces of shit! — A shrill, mocking voice pierced the tension of the moment, freezing your blood. — Guess who's here!

Panic turned to pure fire in your veins. You turned your head just in time to see the wretched woman who, with a cruel smile, was screaming your name at the top of her lungs, handing over your location to those damn sharks.

For an instant, rage and survival instinct eclipsed all other thoughts.

You let out a choked scream and, without thinking twice, you threw yourself on her with the force of a wild beast.

— Fucking bitch! I'll kill you! — you bellowed as you lunged into the air.

The impact sent both of you crashing onto the bar with a crash. Glasses and bottles shattered under the weight of the fight. The bitch went cold, trying to get away, but you didn't give her a chance. Your fists descended in fury, slamming into her face with a rage that had been building up for some time.

In the background, Charlie screamed in terror, trying to stop the fight.

Angel jumped back, stumbling and falling over a table with a curse.

And Husker... that bastard just laughed, eyes narrowed in pure delight, watching you smash the face of the wretch who had just put your life in danger.

Chaos erupted in the hotel like a symphony of destruction. While your hands still clutched the traitor with the intention of beating her existence out of existence, an explosion of fire erupted inside the building. The shockwave shook the walls and sent flames in all directions, devouring curtains and reducing furniture to ashes.

From outside, the clatter of splintering wood and the deafening screams of the mobsters indicated that they had not come to negotiate. No, those bastards had brought a damn catapult.

— HAHAAHA! You've got guts, you cock-warming bitch! — roared a mocking voice from outside. — Did you really think you could run away from me, beauty?!

The tone was a mixture of sadistic delight and suppressed fury. The blood in your veins froze, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to move, to tear out the throat of the one who had betrayed you, but a pair of arms held you tightly.

— That's enough, doll! — Angel Dust struggled with you, pulling with all her might until you managed to break free from Mimzy.

The woman was left leaning against the bar, panting with a blank stare. Her face was bruised, her lipstick smeared, her hair a mess of curls and blood. You were in no better shape, but at least you could stand.

The tension rose as Vaggie, his face alight with fury, raised his spear with determination.

— I'm not going to stand here and wait for them to kill us, I'm going to fight those bastards!

Her shout echoed loudly, but before she could take another step, a guttural, mocking laugh came from behind her.

— Easy, my dear... — Alastor's voice, charming and dark at the same time, drifted through the air like a shiver. — Leave them to me.

A heavy silence spread as his smile widened wider than any normal face should allow.

— I'll show them all... why I'm here.

His figure began to change, elongating in a spiral of shadows and twisted energy. His antlers grew with a grotesque crackle, expanding like infernal branches. Its eyes took on a dull, sinister glow, dark dials swirling in its pupils as its body distended into imposing size. The atmosphere became suffocating.

From the floor, Mimzy let out a dry laugh.

— Finally! You were late, you bastard!

Alastor's laughter was the last thing you saw before he slid out the door with inhuman grace, leaving behind an echo of pure malevolence.

But while he indulged in his personal carnage, another battle raged inside.Lucifer, standing with the elegance of a king on the verge of an announced collapse, looked at his daughter with a grave expression.

—This is what I was trying to tell you, Charlie. — His voice was calm, but with an edge of deadly warning. — Sinners will never change.

Charlie, his face creaking and his hands trembling, clenched his fists tightly.Hell was on fire, and his conviction hung in the balance.

Flames were still smoldering in the wreckage when the massacre finally came to an end.

The air was thick with the smell of blood, gunpowder and burnt flesh. Outside, the dismembered bodies of the mobsters mingled with the rubble, and in the center of it all, Alastor was settling his jacket with a satisfied smile.

Inside the hotel, Charlie was trying, almost desperately, to talk some sense into his father.

— Dad, don't you see? — Her voice was laden with emotion, the pain visible in his expression. — Alastor may have... brutal methods, but at least he's helping us. Isn't that what matters?

Lucifer watched her in silence, his face inscrutable. His eyes reflected the disappointment of someone who had already seen the truth countless times and expected nothing different.

The scene was touching, it really was.

But you were too busy directing looks of pure contempt at Mimzy, who, of course, merely shrugged her shoulders with an expression of indifference. Her attitude only fueled your anger, but before you could say anything, a hoarse, cracked voice caught everyone's attention.

The last shark demon, staggering with its mangled body, dared to speak.

— You may be protecting those two bitches now... — His voice dripped venom, barely held by the thread of life she had left. — But that bitch who came before Mimzy is mine, MINE, AND I WILL KILL HER!

His words pierced the air with utter contempt.

A tense silence fell over the scene.

For an instant, Alastor did not react. His smile froze on his face, his head tilting just a millimeter as if he was processing what he had just heard.

Then he laughed.

A slow, thick laugh, full of twisted delight.

— She's yours, you say? — he repeated with unnatural sweetness. — Oh, wow... that's pretty hilarious.

And without giving a chance for more words, he devoured it.

Slowly.

Painfully.

The shark's shrieks of agony mingled with the sounds of its flesh being ripped away, its life snuffed out in desperate death throes.

Everyone present stood in complete silence, unable to look away from the horror show.

Finally, when it was all over, Alastor exhaled with satisfaction and shook his hands as if he had simply got rid of a little annoyance.

— Ah, my. — he commented in an almost nonchalant tone. — It's been a long time since I've been able to let off steam in such a way.

He settled his jacket with meticulous precision, as if nothing had happened.

Mimzy, who had been paralyzed all this time, straightened up like a frightened animal. Even with her attitude discarded, she could not hide the trembling in her hands as she muttered.

— Well... thanks for the help, Alastor. — Then, with a mocking and ironic tone, he added: — I'm very sorry for the disasters.

The demon did not respond immediately.

His smile was still present, but there was something else in his expression... something dangerous.

Then, when she dared to continue speaking, blurting out a comment about what a good friend he was, Alastor simply closed his eyes for a moment.His brow furrowed slightly.

— Go away, Mimzy. Get out.— His voice had not changed in sweetness, but the edge in his words was unmistakable.

She blinked, surprised by the cold tone.

— Huh? What's the matter with you now?

— You came here deliberately — he continued with forced patience — and endangered everyone. Go away... before I end up with you too.

The shiver that ran through Mimzy was almost visible. But instead of keeping quiet, her wounded pride made her let out one last retort, furious and defensive.

— This hotel is a trash ball full of freaks and misfits!

However, when his dark eyes landed on you, something inside you tensed.

The way he looked at you, with that smile still plastered on his face but with a twinkle in his eye that you couldn't quite decipher, sent a shiver down your spine.It was a warning.

Or something worse.

The atmosphere was still charged with the tension of what had happened, but you were no longer paying attention to any of it.

The murmur of the others faded into a distant echo as you made a clear decision in your mind: leave that damned hotel from hell.

That place was permeated with bad luck, with absolute chaos, with problems that only seemed to multiply.

Slipping into the shadows, you began to walk away without arousing suspicion. No one seemed to notice, too absorbed in the drama of Mimzy and Alastor, in the feud between Charlie and Lucifer, in the mess that still smoldered inside and outside the hotel.

You don't look back. There was no reason to.

Running through the corridors, you reached your room with your heart pounding in your chest, more from the urgency to leave than from fear. Once inside, you closed the door tightly and hurried to gather your things.

Your hands worked fast, saving the essentials: the little you had brought with you, any valuables, and, of course, the money you had stolen from that damned mobster.

With every bill you put in the bag, you felt a kind of bitter satisfaction. At least you'd walk away with something.

But when you finished and headed for the door, something changed.

The air became thick.

The electricity in the air crackled with a strange static that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

Before your hand touched the doorknob, a presence materialized behind you.

— Too much of a hurry to flee, my dear? — Alastor's voice hit you with a mixture of sharp sweetness and a buzz of static that chilled you to the bone.

Your muscles immediately tensed.

Something inside you screamed that you were not afraid. That you didn't show weakness.

There is nothing behind you. Don't look at it. Just open the door and walk away.

You rested your hand on the knob firmly, but as soon as you tried to turn it, a dry snap echoed in the room.

A sound similar to that of a disappointed parent reprimanding a disobedient child.

— Too bad, precious... — His tone became more serious, much more than you had ever heard from him before. And worse. He didn't have the filter.

It was his real voice.

A primitive, deep sound, a whisper of something that was not meant to exist on this plane.

The sensation that ran through your body was not just a shiver. It was absolute terror.Your fingers loosened on the doorknob.

You knew you could no longer ignore it.

Slowly, with the weight of uncertainty weighing on you, you turned around.

The silence between the two of you was a suffocating presence in the room.

You watch him closely, every little detail of your posture, every shadow that seemed to move subtly around his figure. To the naked eye, Alastor seemed serene , completely at ease, with that polite smile that always adorned his face like an unwavering mask.

If you hadn't heard that voice of his moments before, the real one, the one that demanded and threatened with a tone that rumbled in your bones, you could have sworn he even seemed docile.

But you were not naive. He could not deceive you.

Fear pulsed in your veins like a slow poison, but still, it forced you to keep your composure. Pretending bravery was the only thing you could do, even if you knew you didn't really possess it.

You stepped forward, you faced him.

— What the hell do you care if I leave or not? — you demanded, your voice trying to sound firm, though the slight tremor in it betrayed you.

Alastor let out a loud, raucous laugh, the radio filter distorting the sound with an unsettling echo.

You felt a spark of genuine anger.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to resist the mockery, and waited for him to speak.

— Honey, you can stop pretending.— he said with obvious mockery, his smile stretching in an almost predatory manner. — That role of bravery doesn't fit you.

And then he advanced.

His steps were firm, graceful, but had an implied danger that made you, without thinking, step back.Still, you held his gaze.

— To run away from those pathetic attempts of demons, to hide perfectly and only be found by a betrayal... my dear, I'm impressed. — Her voice took on a honeyed, enveloping, manipulative tone. — What did you do?

The weight of his words fell on you like an unbearable burden.

But you would not falter. Not with him.

— Leave me alone — you answer in a broken voice. You wanted to sound calm, but you weren't succeeding. And you both knew it. — I just want to leave this place.

Alastor arched an eyebrow, feigning consideration, before narrowing the distance between you alarmingly.

— Mmm... I don't know. — His tone took on a more amused tinge, as if he was enjoying the game. —I have another detail in mind.

His smile widened, and the gleam in his red eyes became even more intense.

— That piece of meat I devoured a few minutes ago said something very interesting? — he muttered mischievously. — He called you a "cock warmer", if I'm not mistaken.

His gaze descended slowly and deliberately down your body, analyzing you as if you were a piece up for auction.

— A very appropriate name for you, indeed.

The boiling of your blood was immediate .

You gritted your teeth, rage burning in your chest as you glared at him.

— Fuck you... — you whispered angrily.

And in the blink of an eye, the distance between you disappeared.

— Do you think I didn't see how the great king, Lucifer, looked at you like a dirty doll to satisfy? — he remarked with apparent amusement, though his voice had a bitter, dark note, hard to decipher.

The way he said it, with that cutting laugh, with that tone full of an emotion you could not understand, puzzled you.

You opened your eyes in surprise, incredulous at his words.

But you weren't going to let yourself be swept away in anger.

If he wanted to play, then you would provoke him into his own game.

You smiled sideways, and in a mocking tone, you blurted out:

— Don't tell me... is it envy I see and hear? —you raised an eyebrow while tilting your face.

The twinkle in your eye was a direct challenge.

Alastor tightened his smile for the first time .

And that was enough for you to seize the opportunity.

— I think someone wants the place of the sexy sovereign. — you whispered provocatively and mockingly.

The demon's expression froze for only an instant, before returning to normal. But you noticed the way his fingers twitched subtly.

You smiled even wider.

— I bet if I went right now, I could check out how good your majesty is. — Your voice took on a seductive cadence, accompanied by a deliberate gesture: you bit your lower lip as slowly as possible.

The result was instantaneous .

Alastor growled.

A real growl, low and dangerous, as his patience finally broke.

In one swift movement, he cornered you against the door , his arms locking you in with no escape.

Breaths mingled dangerously at such a distance.

You met his gaze closely, his eyes burning with something you hadn't seen in them before.

When he spoke, his voice descended to a dangerous murmur, laden with a dense, heavy weight, something you didn't know whether to interpret as a threat or... something worse.

— Don't push your luck, my dear.— His tone was serious, and there was a latent frustration in it that took your breath away.

Latent sexual frustration.

The cadence in his voice distorted your perception of things, and you felt dizzy seeing him in this state.

— Any luck? — You whispered with irony as he laughed — Come on, dear radio demon, we both know what you want — You exclaimed looking him in the eyes.

Alastor's lip curved into a predatory smile as he heard your response. The frustration you glimpsed in his eyes intensified, but he did not recoil. On the contrary, he seemed pleased to have provoked such a bold reaction in you.

— Oh, really? Enlighten me, my dear, what do you think I want? — His breath caressed your face as he spoke, and you could feel the slight trembling of his body against yours.

Fury raged through you like wildfire, but you would not allow yourself to show weakness. You lifted your chin and looked him straight in the eye, not giving an inch of ground.

— Don't play. We both know this isn't about Lucifer or my past. It's about power. It's about control. And about proving that you can have what you want, when you want it.

Alastor let out a soft chuckle, laden with cynicism.

— Insightful, as always. But you're wrong about one thing, precious. Power and control are certainly attractive, but what I'm really interested in is seeing how far you're willing to go to protect your secrets. — He brought his face even closer to yours, his red eyes shining with an almost hypnotic intensity.

— How much are you willing to sacrifice? Your dignity? Your morals? Or perhaps... something more valuable?

Your heart was pounding in your chest, but you refused to look away.

— have nothing to offer you, Alastor. And I'm not afraid of you.

— Ah, aren't you? —He whispered, his tone suggesting otherwise. — Then why are you trembling?

His hand slowly rose and brushed your cheek gently, tracing a line of fire along your skin. You closed your eyes for a moment, fighting the wave of sensations that swept over you.

— I'm not afraid of you.— you repeated, though your voice sounded slightly weaker this time.

— Prove it. —The demand was a challenge, an invitation to cross a dangerous line.

You opened your eyes and met her gaze, and for a moment, you were lost in the darkness that emanated from it.

What did you want to prove? That you could resist her charm? Or that you were capable of yielding to temptation?

Before you could respond, Alastor leaned in and brushed your lips with his. The contact was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to ignite a spark inside you.

You broke away abruptly, feeling the heat spread throughout your body.

— I'm not going to play your games, Alastor.

— Are you sure? —He smiled, showing his sharp teeth.— Because I think, deep down, you're dying to play.

Before you could reply, his hand slid down your neck and pulled you to him, kissing you with an intensity that took you by surprise. His lips were soft but firm, and his tongue explored your mouth with a boldness that made you shiver.

You resisted at first, determined not to give in to his control. But as the kiss deepened, you felt your defenses begin to crumble. His taste was intoxicating, a mixture of sin and danger that drew you into an unknown abyss.

His hands moved down your back, tracing every curve and contour of your body. You moaned into his mouth, unable to control your body's involuntary response.

For an instant, you forgot your anger, your fear, your distrust. There was only the desire, the need to be closer to him, to melt into his embrace and lose yourself in the darkness.

But then, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water. What were you doing? You were allowing Alastor to manipulate you, to use you as a mere tool in his power play.

With a superhuman effort, you pulled away from him, gasping for air.

— Stop — you said, your voice trembling, — I'm not going to do this.

Alastor looked at you with an indecipherable expression, his dark eyes hiding his true thoughts.

— Why not? — He asked, his tone soft in contrast to the intensity of the moment before.

A small spark of fire and frustration settled in his crimson eyes, his state was no better than yours, and yet....

You refused to answer. Instead, you pushed him aside and backed away from the door, determined to put distance between the two of you.

Instead of allowing you to escape, Alastor smiled with playful mischief. In an instant, shadowy tentacles sprouted from the floor and walls, surrounding you like a dark, throbbing prison.

You found yourself cornered, your back pressed against Alastor's chest, his warm breath brushing against your neck.

— Did you think I would let you go so easily, my dear? — he whispered in your ear, his voice charged with an intensity that made you tremble. — From the moment I saw you walk into this hotel. Something about you... something drew me like a moth to a flame.

Your words were sweet poison, a promise of ecstasy and doom. The shadowy tentacles slithered over your body with deliberate slowness, exploring every curve and nook and cranny with eerie precision. You felt a shiver run down your spine as the tips of the tentacles caressed your skin, awakening sensations you thought you had buried long ago.

— No one. — Alastor continued, his voice husky and full of possessive longing.— not even you, will take from me what is mine. You brought this on me from the first moment.

Your gasps grew louder, choppy, as the tentacles traced circles around your nipples, tightening them with each rub. An involuntary moan escaped your lips, and you felt Alastor's smile widen against your shoulder.

— Yes, my dear, that's it — he murmured, his hot breath echoing in your ear. — Surrender, just like that, my precious.

Your legs trembled, unable to support your weight as desire consumed you. The fury and fear faded, replaced by a primal need, an urge to give yourself completely to the darkness that enveloped you.

As Alastor played with you, you found yourself in a feverish state, caught between the need to resist and the overwhelming tide of pleasure. You tried to speak, to demand that he leave you alone, but the words stuck in your throat, choked by the gasps and moans that escaped your lips uncontrollably.

— Let me... please...— you managed to whisper, but your voice sounded weak and shaky, lacking conviction.

The pleasure was too intense, clouding your judgment and breaking down your defenses. Against your will, you began to move your hips, desperately seeking friction against Alastor's clothed erection. It was a silent plea, a tacit surrender to the desires that consumed you.

Alastor responded to your movement with a triumphant smile. He pulled you even tighter against him, imprisoning you between his body and shadowy tentacles.

— Fuck, you sure are a dirty cock warmer.— he whispered in your ear, his voice husky and full of desire.

His tongue slid over your neck, exploring every inch of skin with torturous slowness. A shiver of pleasure ran through your body, and you closed your eyes, abandoning yourself completely to the sensation.

— More... please, more... —you begged, your words barely audible between your gasps.

Alastor reveled in your submission, intensifying his assault. His hands slid beneath your clothing, caressing your skin with a softness that contrasted with the hardness of his erection pressed against your ass. The shadowy tentacles moved in sync, massaging your breasts and thighs with expert precision.

You writhed in his arms, moaning and sighing as pleasure swept you into an abyss of sensation.

You were no longer able to think, to resist, to fight. There was only desire, the need for more, the total surrender to the impulses that dominated you.

In the state of fervor in which you both found yourselves, Alastor slid his hands between your breasts, squeezing one of them in his path, then traveled to your waist, until he reached the coveted spot. Feeling you tense, he recognized that he was needier than ever, harder than a rock.

— Beg for me, now —he demanded, his voice turning into a guttural growl.

You only nodded, your mind clouded with desire. Alastor turned you to face him, his red eyes glowing with an almost unearthly intensity.

He began to whisper words full of obscenity, sexual nicknames that, though racy, retained the elegance and twisted charm that characterized him.

— Tell me, my naughty delight, how much do you want this, mmh? How much do you want this demon who has you trembling in his clutches? You are my "little doll", my little dear.— You looked at him lost, recognizing that you were hotter than ever in your life or death.

His closeness, his voice, his hands on your body, all contributed to a storm of sensations that threatened to consume you completely.

— Say it. — Alastor insisted, his hot breath brushing your lips.—Tell me you need me.— He growled with absolute demand.

— I need you.— you whispered, the truth escaping your lips unfiltered.

Hearing your confession, Alastor smiled with predatory satisfaction. The shadowy tentacles disappeared in an instant, replaced by his arms that wrapped tightly around you, pulling you tight against his body. The closeness was suffocating, but at the same time, strangely comforting.

The bed was very convenient at the moment, and Alastor didn't miss the opportunity.

He lifted you in his arms and carried you between sloppy kisses to the soft mattress. You fell onto the sheets, feeling the soft fabric against your skin as Alastor pounced on you, never breaking the contact of his lips with yours.

You had almost no clothes on anymore, just a rustle of fabric barely covering your nakedness. Alastor, on the other hand, was still clothed, a frustrating barrier between your desire and the consummation of the act.

Desperate, you tried to remove his jacket, but he grasped both your hands with surprising strength, pinning you under his weight.

— Be patient, my little temptress. —he said, his voice husky and full of anticipation. —There is an art in waiting, a pleasure in torture.

He kissed you more intensely, sucking on your lower lip with a possessiveness that made you moan. Then, with exasperating slowness, he began to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, revealing his chest full of marks and a fur that aroused in you an eagerness to caress.

— Do you like what you see? — he asked, with an arrogant smile.

You nodded, unable to articulate a word. Alastor took off his jacket, dropping it on the floor with disdain. Then, he unbuttoned his dress pants, releasing his erection that pulsed impatiently beneath the fabric.

With a look that promised paradise and doom, Alastor grabbed your legs with his free hand, lifting them up to place you in a vulnerable, submissive position.

He lined up his erection at your entrance, feeling the heat and wetness that awaited him.

And then, in one particularly rough lunge, he began.

A lascivious scream escaped your lips, a primal, savage sound that echoed through the room, filling it with the promise of pleasure and despair. Pain mingled with ecstasy, creating a symphony of sensations that snatched your control and plunged you into an abyss of lust.

The way Alastor began to move, without giving you a single respite, just ripped the air out of you. You moaned meaningless phrases, incoherent words that expressed the maelstrom of sensations that invaded you.

You felt Alastor deliver thrust after thrust, each one rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you to the limit of your endurance.

He, meanwhile, grunted and emitted messy static throughout the room, a distorted echo of his arousal mingling with the obscene sounds of clashing skins and your occasional moans. Every time Alastor touched that vulnerable spot in you, he made you see stars, a burst of light and pleasure that took your breath away.

—You're mine, understand? — Alastor growled through his teeth, his voice harsh and possessive. — Completely mine.

—Yes... yours, ah!... more...— you gasped, your body responding to his dominance with desperate need.

— Look my eyes. — he commanded, stopping his movements for a moment.— Tell me how much you want me.

You looked up, meeting his red eyes that burned with an almost demonic intensity. At that moment, there was nothing but Alastor and the insatiable desire that united you.

— I want you, Alastor. — you confessed, your voice trembling. — I want you more than anything in this damned hell.

Alastor smiled, a wild, triumphant expression that made you shudder. He resumed his onslaught with renewed fury, bringing you to the brink of collapse.

— I will make you cry out my name, my sweet torment. — He promised, his voice a hoarse whisper in your ear. — I'm going to make you beg for me.

With the intensity of the moment, Alastor felt you on the verge of climax, and you felt it too. The tension in both of you was about to explode, and all the while, you were screaming Alastor's name in a mess of pleading.

— Alastor! Ah, Alastor! Please, Alastor! —you cried, your voice cracking with pleasure.

Meanwhile, he was transforming back into his demonic form a little, with dark eyes and dials that stood out against his pale skin. Seeing him in that state, feeling his onslaught, you couldn't help but think out loud and exclaim in a broken voice and a moan.

— I love those eyes... like that... so beautiful... — You gasped looking at him with intensity.

Alastor paused for a second, his body tense over yours. His smile widened, revealing a row of sharp teeth.

— Damn, you are divine...—He answered with his voice full of static, which caused a slight tremor in your chest. You groaned as you listened to him and your gaze only confirmed that he looked absolutely perfect.

He then resumed his thrusts even deeper, so intense that you were now a bundle of screaming pleasure as you trembled uncontrollably. Your orgasm erupted violently, your body responding to his assault, and a silent scream formed, your hands clenching strands of his hair, trying to hold on to something as the aftershocks of climax wiped out your sanity.

And still Alastor whispered obscene words in your ear, fueling your arousal and prolonging your agony.

— You're a pervert, you know that? —he gasped, his hot breath brushing against your neck, feeling you tighten around him.— A little devil that drives me crazy.

And he was so close to cumming too.

With each thrust, the tension in his body increased until, finally, he came, cumming inside you, painting your walls with his seed.

And with two final gentle lunges, he pulled you close to him in a messy kiss, his salty, heady taste flooding your mouth.

Once he was finished inside you, he was satisfied to see his work. Your body trembled beneath his, exhausted but sated. Your eyes were glassy, your breathing agitated, and a faint expression was plastered on your face.

Alastor slowly pulled away, watching you with a possessive gaze.

You, you simply looked at him, utterly exhausted.

— Well? —Alastor's voice echoed with that peculiar mixture of amusement and latent menace, as he arched an eyebrow in your direction. His gaze remained fixed on you, expectant, insistent... and fucking annoyed.

You tried to deflect the conversation, as if ignoring his scrutiny was enough to dispel the discomfort settling in your chest. But patience wasn't exactly one of your virtues.

You took in a good amount of air, feeling the weight of his expectation build in your chest. You knew you couldn't evade the question much longer, but you didn't want to give him too many details either. After all, how would you explain everything that had happened without revealing parts of yourself that you preferred to keep hidden?

—Well... you see...—You paused fleetingly, choosing your words cautiously.— One of those guys you gutted tonight practically expected me to fuck with him. I refused and ran away, that's all.

The way you said it was deliberately brief, as if by reducing it to a couple of sentences you could downplay its importance. But you couldn't fool yourself. Least of all him.

Of course, you left out some details.

Like the fact that you had been playing with that demon for weeks, taking advantage of his inflated ego and his utter stupidity to extract as much money as possible from him. Fake smiles, sugar-coated words, veiled promises... everything in order to cajole him. In the end, the idiot thought he owned you, that he could take you whenever he wanted.

How pathetic.

Running away was the only option... well, running away after emptying his pocket one last time.

But fuck with him... that was never going to happen. Not with that disgusting piece of amorphous flesh, with his rotting breath and his raspy voice drooling orders as if you were his.

No, that privilege was exclusive to someone else.

Shit.

You shuddered at the mere thought.

Alastor, this fucking demon did manage to provoke something completely different in you. And that was dangerous.

You realized you sounded evasive, and by the way Alastor tilted his head slightly, you knew he'd noticed it too. His smile, that smile that always seemed on the verge of mockery, widened just barely, as if he was enjoying your discomfort.

— That's it, huh? — he repeated, his voice soft but with a tone that made you feel as if he was unraveling your every word. — Curious. Because, my dear, you don't sound very convinced of your own story.

— I don't know what you're talking about — you lied, averting your gaze to the window. The night was quiet, but your mind was not. — It was exactly as I told you. That's all there is to say.

— Do not worry, my little darling... —Alastor's voice slid like a shiver across your skin, vibrant, permeated with that static that seemed to seep into every corner of the air.—I will know exactly what keys to play for that answer... I will know....

Your body was still trembling, from their recent encounter. The intensity in your eyes, that bright red glint that devoured the gloom, the way your smile stretched with an almost playful malevolence....

The room spun slightly, or perhaps it was you who let yourself be swept away, caught in the hypnotic sway of her presence.

One more time.

Another round.

Your skin burned where his hands had already traced their path, and his mere nearness electrified every nerve. His laughter seeped into your ear, vibrating, accompanied by an insistent hum that entangled your thoughts in a sea of static and desire.

Of course, you weren't going to sleep through the night.

Not when he had every intention of making sure of it.

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Yayyyy!! Welcome about the 1940s train, my friend!! I know how much you share my love of historical fiction/AU. 😘

Here we go -- diving into your lovely amazing comments. 😎

Right off the bat we get the classic and hilarious brother dynamic between the two of them. And of course, Dean being Dean. He just couldn't resist. 🙄 Not to mention the fact that Sam literally gave Dean a list of things to do in NYC other than bother him 😂

Lolll we gotta get into that first, right? I thought the best way to set the scene would be to establish the bro relationship here -- how this version of Sam and Dean are exactly the same...and how they're a bit different. 😬 (exactly on that list! lmfao)

I love this little bit of world-building, because right off the bat you are introducing little things that will divide Sam and Dean. It builds the scene, shapes the characters, and introduces the idea that, yes both men enlisted, but at the same time there are other sides/fronts to the war and those experiences shaped these two men in different ways. I also like that you made them be in different places in the military, because their personalities are so different and it fits that Dean was the one who saw combat and has a little bit of shell-shock, but then you see Sam who is able to keep a stable job and merges well into the hustle and bustle of NYC.

Thank youuuuu I was hoping someone would pick up on all of this. 😭😭 I thought it would be interesting to apply Sam's intelligence literally in Intelligence. It was an interesting and necessary facet of the war. Without the spies and Intelligence efforts on the Allied side, we wouldn't have won the war.

But in this story, it would also provide that contrast with how Sam experienced the war and how Dean did, with him being what we think of when we think of a soldier, coming out of all of this with shell shock and more than a few scars -> something the movies of the '40s tended to gloss over. 🥲

"He'd met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn't seen a lady like you in quite some time." I'm dying with this line. I love it so much. Oh boy... I already feel like this fic is going to destroy me in the best way.

AGAIN - another line I hoped someone would enjoy. 💗 Dean's been messing around with a lot of "girls," but this here's a lady. 😘

Aww Sam 😭 I'm also dying that Dean walked her home, my word, what a man.

Sam's a Good Man, but so is Dean, in a more obvious flirtatious gesture of chivalry guy kind of way. 😅

You don't gotta ask what it's like sweet pea, you're gonna be out there soon enough with a ring on your left hand that actually MEANS SOMETHING to the man who gave it to you (DEAN)!

Ooooh girl, not you already getting red hot with your theories. 😜

Girl please be curious for all of us 🤣 But I will say I like that she still upholds her side of the marriage even though her husband is literally a human trash can filled with Raccoons. As Dean put it earlier, she's a lady.

Oh yeah, gotta have that spark of attraction, noticing those bowlegs!

And yes, that morality and how seriously she takes her vows is something that's still very much at the crux of this story, especially considering the times, where as a whole the nation had more religious and/or traditional values around marriage. Even though, obvious, adultery has been around since the beginning of time lmao. 🫠

Also I love that you made her a nurse and that she and Dean were in the same area, so they're able to connect on that level, and it's not just Dean being flirty. I think that giving the reader that particular background also will help her navigate how to help Dean, if she's seen other soldiers with shell-shock and PTSD.

Aw thank you!! They have some common ground, literally, even if they were in Normandy at different points during the war. And you're right, her being nurse is going to be a key character element going forward, with Dean and Michael.

Oh my sweet goodness she's the best. Did she stutter?! I think not!

Right?! That's def her mic drop moment! loll 🎙️

You know what Mike, if you keep talking you're gonna regret it. Your wife might be a lady, but Dean isn't. And Dean will go full Lorena Bobbitt on your ass while you're asleep for doing the twisted tango with another woman!! 😡🤣

LMFAO not Lorena Bobbitt!!!!! I'm deceasedddd. 💀💀💀

Alex this chapter was amazing! I can see how much research and hard work you put into it my talented friend! I can't wait to see what else is in store for Dean and this reader 🥰

Aww thank you, my lovely Lee. 🥹 Part 2 is about to drop tomorrow, so you'll see very soon!! (Or whenever you get to it lol) 💕

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.    

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut. 

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said. 

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?” 

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap. 

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once. 

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?” 

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said. 

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks. 

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly. 

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.  

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.  

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.  

His brows furrowed. “Do what?” 

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms. 

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.” 

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.” 

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice. 

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff. 

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so. 

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly. 

“Hmm. No real loss there then.” 

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.” 

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner. 

“Excuse me?” 

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.” 

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

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[butch4butchlovr]

It's a little annoying how in conversations critiquing how arcane treated Vi, no one brings up her butch identity. Like, yes, everything that happened to Vi would still be bad if she wasn't butch, but to me, it's even worse due to the fact that she was made to be a very butch character.

1. They took away everything that made Vi butch.

Her love for her family and her community, her morals. Vi was seen as butch not just because of her clothes but because of how loving and protective she was for those around her. She wanted to be there for her city, and she told Ekko that herself in s1 when he took her to the firelight tree. Yet in season two, they took her family away from her yet again, purposely acted like Ekko and Vi's relationship did not exist, and had her become a class traitor because these writers didn't give a flying fuck about her character or what the identity of 'butch' meant. Hell, we barely see Vi struggle with becoming a cop in the first place.

(a bit of a side tangent)

Plus, why should Vi care that Jinx bombed the council anyway? Because it resulted in the death of Caitlyn’s mom? The very person who, along with many others, were fine with putting someone like her in either the fissures where she could work to death for their profit, or negligent enough that someone can throw her in a dangerous prison with no trial, throw away the key, and not give a damn? Why was this not touched on? (I know why) This should've been conflicting for both Vi AND Caitlyn since they both know that topside is corrupt.

There's no reason for Vi to give up her morals like this, even if she sees Jinx as dangerous. The only reason why Jinx exists is due to the council's negligence and Silco's grooming. Vi, of all people, should've understood the nuances of Jinx's attack due to the constant violence and oppression the council and enforcers enacted on the undercity and herself.

2. Vi has the traumas that many butches and studs have gone through.

The police brutality, the need to protect others and not feeling strong enough to do so at times, the constant pressure of needing to be strong (mostly due to being the eldest daughter). So many of us clung to Vi due to those reasons, including myself. Heck, lesbian history shows how much butch lesbians were brutalized by cops, yet Arcane didn't take these traumas seriously, especially the police brutality that Vi was subjected to.

Not once do we see Vi struggle with her experiences from prison. These people beat her every other day for seven years, just for her to come out of prison with no semblance of ptsd? Then, they had Vi get hit by her cop girlfriend with a gun and never touched on it again. What was the point of having Vi go to prison and purposely mention that she was beaten to an inch of her life MULTIPLE TIMES, just to have her be hit by the very cop that these people want her to have a romantic relationship with? It really does seem like they wanted to use both prison and butchness as some cool aesthetic instead of actually treating it as the delicate topic that it is.

3. Reaffirming people's lack of care towards butches as people

People already don't take our traumas seriously as butches, a lot of the audience didn't take Vi's traumas in s1 seriously BECAUSE she's butch. Yet the writers reinforced the same harmful rhetoric of dehumanizing butches, sexualizing us, and romantizing our pain.

Each time Vi was close to mental breakdown or had a mental breakdown, it was not taken seriously. Vi almost breaks down to Caitlyn and begs her not to change. What happens? Caitlyn kisses her. When Vi is stuck in a prison cell again and starts to break down and punch the walls, what happens? Caitlyn comes in and cue sex scene. (That's supposedly supposed to reclaim trauma btw)

The WHOLE ENTIRE pitfighter montage was a thirst trap. Here is a butch who is having a severe mental breakdown about the things she had just experienced and the only thing we get of it is shots of Vi self harming (alcoholism, pitfighting), shots objectifying her, and her hallucinations.

We don't get any commentary on how this affects Vi. We could assume it's harmful just like her prison trauma was, but we don't see glimpses of it at all afterwards. Vi literally stops drinking after the montage and we don't see how it affects her. People keep preaching about show don't tell, but when it comes to shows and movies in general you need a balance between both showing AND telling. We see this with how they handled Jinx's mental health in s1, even in bits of Caitlyn’s arc in s2, yet we never see an ounce of this treatment towards Vi.

And certain fans don't help either. They'll defend Vi being hit, defend the lack of exploration on her trauma, and defend the very sex scene that ignores literally everything Vi has gone through during the show. Hell, they get angry at the mere thought of Vi receiving an apology. I mean, what else can I expect from a fandom who thinks Vi can't read and expect Caitlyn to teach her, or wanted Vi to be a virgin so Caitlyn can teach her about sex, or expects Vi to be so unhygienic that Caitlyn needs to teach her how to wash her own ass. (Do y'all see a pattern?)

The treatment of Vi in s2 by the writers is butchphobic. The way people defend how Vi was handled is butchphobic. Defending abuse towards Vi, saying that it didn't harm her that much or that she's been through worse, is butchphobic. Saying that she got a happy ending in a city that hates her and her community, with a woman who has harmed her and showed prejudice against her and her people, is butchphobic.

(And yes, Caitlyn’s line about Vi's blood is prejudiced, it is not just about her being related to Jinx. Mentioning that someone's blood is tainted has been evidence of countless prejudiced ideals towards minorities, ESPECIALLY the lower class.)

The way Vi is treated overall by the writers and by certain caitvi stans is butchphobic and misogynistic and I wished this was mentioned more when talking about it.

[michaelwheelerdefiodental]

Jocks dynamics on Season 5 and comparing them to Henry Bowers gang from IT (and others iconic 80s villains):

This boy below with a blue shirt is the only one that didn't wear their jersey in season 4. I believe he wasn't part of the team at all in Season 4. My theory is that just like Lucas, he is just a black boy trying to fit in; he even did some research and helped them with Eddie's case, just like Lucas. He helped them find the house of that drug dealer named Rick. But he was never seen with them while they were going on a "mission", he just gave them tips and hanged out with them during parties, he doesn't appear in the basketball game, playing or even in the bench, if i remember correctly. His shirt is similar to Lucas blue shirt in episode 2 too, i think they were purposefully making parallels with these two.

We can see Andy and Chance on this paparazzi pic, and supposedly the same guy from season 4, but now he is wearing the jersey below his jacket (we can see the collar from the jersey they use, and some green color too).

Now we have a new jock, a blonde one, that not only resembles Jason (of course), but young Johnny Lawrence from Karate Kid too. This means he will be a big problem, the Duffer Brothers wouldn't cast someone similar to Johnny, a 80s iconic bully, to just make him a random weakling bully (the actor name is Deric Replogle).

He is following Dustin on the school grounds, so he is taking the lead against the actual symbol of the Hellfire Club. Meanwhile, Andy, Chase, and the new teammate are following Mike. When Dustin is at the cemetery, he is the one person more close to him; i think he will do the most damage to Dustin. Chance is there with him, the actor is shaking hands with one of the Duffers. There's no sign of Andy, maybe the actor is behind the camera, or he didn't participate in this scene.

Now i'll explain what i think their conflict will be. Andy is probably the leader now that Jason is dead, and we know he is way more crazy than him; Jason had a twisted idea of justice, but Andy seems to like to inflict pain on others. He made jokes about Chrissy being the one that was murdered, smiled while talking about hunting Eddie, and tackled Erica, a 11-year-old, while threatening to break her arm. Now this new blonde jock could be another violent and sadistic asshole, he looks like Johnny Lawrence, who is someone very dangerous to mess with, and he is the one most close to Dustin after they beat him; this can make both Andy and the blonde to try take the leadership for themselves. The blonde resembles Jason, and this would make Andy feel like an underdog again. I think he actually cared about Jason in some twisted way, but now that he is in a leader role, he won't let anyone take this from him.

We can compare this group with the four core. Andy would be Dustin, the blonde guy would be Mike; both Mike and Dustin are the ones to take the lead a lot of times, and some people tend to discuss who is the real leader of the four core, but they wouldn't care about it. On the other hand, Andy would definitely care about somebody taking him off his leader role, and this blonde jock can be the one. Chance would be Will; both are quieter guys, but Will actually has his own opinion about things and isn't always hiding them; Chance just followed Jason and Andy like a stray dog. The blue shirt guy would be Lucas, as i said. He just wants to find a way to fit in (there's a post here on Tumblr comparing the four core with the original jocks from season 4, but i couldn't find it, if you have it, send it to me so i can put the link right here).

After being challenged by the blonde too many times, Andy would end up killing him, and right after this, he would decide to kill the whole main characters gang for good, after the whole town turned into absolute chaos. He can be influenced by Vecna to do all of this, just like Henry Bowers from IT book and movies. And we know Stranger Things is heavily influenced by IT; Vecna is literally a mix of Pennywise and Freddy Krueger. Pennywise influenced Henry to kill his father, then he made the whole city of Derry be engulfed by a storm. Soon after this, he made Henry and his friends, Victor and Belch, go after the Losers Club. On IT, Henry's main target was Mike, a black kid, and it isn't a reach to say that Lucas, a black teenager, will be Andy's main target too, as he will probably think Lucas killed Jason.

After seeing all this crazy shit happening, the new boy (the one with the blue shirt on season 4, in case you have forgotten, lol) would be scared, as he didn't really want all this to happen, he just wanted to fit in, just like Lucas. Now there are two options that the writers can take, 1: he decides to get the hell out of this group just like Lucas on Season 4; 2: he can continue in this hellhole and die with Chance, just like Victor and Belch from IT, to show that not everybody is like Lucas, some people will decide to continue in a bad environment just to fit in; Andy would die later on after having an encounter with the main group, just like Henry Bowers.

Or: Andy could end up being someone like Patrick Hockstetter, a sadistic maniac that ends up having a premature death, then the blonde takes the role of Henry Bowers for himself. But i think the other way is more coherent; Andy is already established as a character (and there's always the chance of this blonde guy being just a random that don't even has lines, but i hope not don't think so, lol).

I think this would be a good way to implement some horror with human villains in the series. If you're going to make a high school bully a villain, make him terrifying, just like Henry Bowers. There's the military like Sullivan and Linda Hamilton character, but i ain't really scared of them; i just know they have resources like guns; they aren't scary at all for me.

I came up with this idea after seeing @will80sbyers posts about these paparazzi pics, thank you!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Let’s hope we don’t get lengthy dream dives into Silver and Malleus.

[Referencing this post, maybe this post too!]

I proceed to experience all 5 stages of grief in rapid succession in a futile attempt to cope with book 7 being even further dragged out--

I mean, it's technically possible with Ace's newly acquired UM (assuming he can successfully pull it off + control Malleus's UM). Silver's, we might actually see via a flashback showing what he saw and him quickly realizing it's a dream. But do I want to see that??? No, I want to just move on already.

I also wonder??? If we see Malleus's dream at some point, what the heck will we see in his post-OB black and white trauma flashback??? Because we already saw the truth of Briar Valley's history in their conflict with humans... and the theoretical Malleus dream might tell us how lonely he realizes he is now... At that point, I feel like we'd have already seen everything that might be going on in Malleus's head; what would there be left for him to angst about??? All the cards are already laid out on the table, it couldn't possibly be more sad or more detailed than what we're aware of right now. Unless they skip showing us Malleus's dream and cram that into his post-OB scene? Which I feel might make more sense + would be a lot shorter.

[cosmicjoke]

I saw @acmeangel's analysis post on this scene, which is fantastic and which everyone should read, and I was going to add my thoughts to their post, but then it got too long (as usual), and I didn't want to hijack their analysis, so I decided to just make my own, haha. This really is an important scene which essentially encapsulates the difference between Levi and Erwin and which I think ultimately showcases what makes Levi such a genuine hero.

One of the overarching messages of AoT is that we shouldn't give up our humanity in pursuit of an ideological goal. I've talked a lot about how Levi puts his trust in Erwin and admires him so much because he sees Erwin's ability to set aside his personal feelings for the greater good as a virtuous quality, one which Levi hopes to be able to one day emulate. Levi sees Erwin as superior to himself for this ability, because Levi, no matter how hard he tries, isn't ever able to do the same. He's never able to set emotion aside. He's never able to make decisions detached from emotion. He's never able to send soldiers to their deaths without it tearing him apart and creating in him a sense of conflict. He's never quite able to convince himself that the thing these soldiers are dying for, which they choose to die for, is actually worth it, which is also why he works so hard to bring their goal to fruition. He can't accept that those lives were given in vain, but the only way to ensure that they weren't is to make their dream comes true. Because to Levi, it's their lives that have value, not the cause itself.

One of Levi's most defining traits, one which makes him stand out from basically every other character in the story, is that he has no dream of his own. Rather, he carries the dreams of others, makes himself the custodian of those dreams, and dedicates himself to their realization.

When he says in this scene that a pointless death doesn't suit anyone, what he's saying is that the cause Erwin is sacrificing soldiers for has to prove itself worthy of their lives, that it has to amount to something equal in value to those lives. Because that's the thing, Levi values life above all else. He sees each, individual life as being as important as the whole of humanity, and I think that aspect of Levi's character is demonstrated fully during the RtS arc, when he makes the choice to end Erwin's suffering. People argue and claim that Levi made the wrong choice here because they don't understand the thematic significance of it, getting caught up in speculation about whether Erwin would have been able to prevent the war between Paradis and Marley, whether Erwin would have been able to stop the Rumbling, etc... By getting caught up in that, they completely miss the point of how the story wants the audience to understand the importance of not giving up our humanity for any cause. It's trying to show us, through Levi's choice, why we can't let any cause or ideological movement turn us cruel. Levi's refusal to be cruel, his refusal to throw away his humanity, is meant to be seen as a good thing, and ultimately, ironically, it's Levi's humanity and compassion that makes him a superior man to Erwin.

Erwin tries to assuage his own guilt by telling himself that the lives given were for a cause greater than any, individual life. The cause of humanity. This is a narrative he clings to until he's forced to admit to himself that what he really was after in sending all these soldiers to their deaths was his personal pursuit of knowledge, in another attempt to assuage his guilt for the death of his father. Erwin sacrifices his humanity for a goal which is self-serving, and as he's forced to contend with that reality, his guilt grows tenfold, fracturing his psyche and self-identity. But even if his every decision had been for the so-called greater good, even if he'd been 100% dedicated to his duty as Commander, he still would have been left with a sense of guilt and self-loathing for sacrificing lives to this nebulous cause, just like Hange ultimately was, because the whole point of the contrast between Levi and Erwin is to show that, in the end, Levi is the one whom the audience should strive to emulate, not Erwin.

This moment in the story is driving home the point of choosing compassion over ideology, or even duty. Levi's choice is imperative in demonstrating to us that if we sacrifice our own, personal humanity, if we give into becoming cruel and unfeeling, if we lose sight of the very thing that drove us to wanting the world to be a better place to begin with, that being our compassion and desire to end the suffering of others, no matter how justified the cause may seem, we're essentially sacrificing humanity itself. Because it's when you start becoming cruel, for any cause, that everything turns to shit, both for ourselves and the world around us. It's cruelty that leads into justification of more cruelty, which leads into justification of atrocities. Bringing Erwin back, forcing him back into that role which was tearing him apart, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, would have been purely an act of cruelty. But Levi isn't a cruel man. He's exactly the opposite. He's a man defined by his compassion and kindness. And what is AoT advocating for if not greater compassion and kindness in the face of a cruel world? It's telling us that the kind of compassion that Levi showed to Erwin in his dying moments is how we should choose to fight against the world's injustices and cruelties.

Because all the bad things that happen in AoT, essentially, happen because of a willingness to sacrifice ones humanity for ideology or for personal, selfish desires, and because it's those of us who retain our humanity and compassion, despite the cruelty of the world, and despite any supposed duty to any professed cause, that end up being able to live, as Levi says, with no regrets. This idea of sacrificing what we know is right for some abstract, nebulous goal of a better tomorrow is what leads to the destruction and corruption of our inner selves, and that, ironically, makes a better tomorrow impossible. If we become corrupted, if we allow ourselves to be lost to this idea of the greater good, in the end, it will only continue on the cycle of destruction.

Levi never sacrifices what he believes is right, never acts in any way which goes against his conscience. He never betrays his humanity. He maintains his compassion from beginning to end, and he never wavers in what he's fighting for, which, again, is every, individual life. That's what makes Levi a hero. His inability and refusal to set his personal feelings aside is, in the end, meant to be seen as the correct course. Because Levi's personal feelings have nothing to do with a dream or a goal. They have nothing to do with an ideology or movement. They aren't rooted in self-gain or greed. His sense of duty isn't to a cause, not to a country or an empire, or a sense of retribution or revenge. His duty, his obligation, is to doing what he feels, in his heart, is the right thing, what his personal feelings tell him is the right thing, no matter the situation or circumstances, no matter, even, if it turns out to have been the right choice or not. And that ties back into Levi's extraordinary compassion and empathy. It's his compassion and empathy which dictate his personal feelings of right and wrong, and his dedication to not betraying that sense is what ultimately dictates all his choices.

Levi thought of himself as a lesser man than Erwin because of this. Because of the way he wasn't able to set his personal feelings aside in the choices he made. It's why he chose to follow Erwin, because he thought it made Erwin superior to himself. But in truth, it's that quality of Levi's, that deep seated empathy, that makes him the better man. He can't detach himself from his compassion, he can't make choices without considering the consequences and impact of those choices on others, or even without making that consideration the principle factor in his choices, and that's a good thing. That's humanity. That's what makes the world a better place. By caring about how our choices affect others. That's not meant to be seen as a bad thing. Levi's kindness and empathy isn't meant to be seen as wrong.

Levi never betrays who he is, and he never betrays what he believes in, even as everyone around him does, at one point or another. That's true strength, that's true courage, that's true heroism. Someone who cares so much about people that he can't make a choice without factoring in the thoughts, feelings and desires of those people. Levi is meant to be the audience's role model, the character we're meant to want to be more like. Not Erwin. Because no matter how noble the goal we pursue, if we stop caring about each other in that pursuit, it all becomes for naught.

[benz12313]

Boyfriend!Ridoc - SFW Version

Description: I muse about what Ridoc would be like as a boyfriend. I tried to keep it gender neutral, but please let me know if I accidentally missed any female pronouns. I'm so used to writing fem at this point I sometimes miss it if I'm trying not to write that way.

Warnings: slight mentions of death? (more like fear of death? idk man), vague Onyx Storm spoiler (mentioned a scene, but with no detail at all), use of pet name "baby", swearing

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who absolutely fucking adores you. I mean think about it, he’s slept with about half of Basgiath at this point (maybe not literally, but still). The man has to be absolutely down bad for you to give that up. Not to mention he clearly has some issues with attachments, and when he does form them they’re strong. He was mad the longest with Violet in Iron Flame, and I mean, we all know that scene between them in Onyx Storm when he finds out about Xaden. So it’s safe to say that if he’s decided to date you, he absolutely adores you. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who absolutely needs to be touching you at all times. He’s a touchy guy, so with you, the person he loves most? From having an arm around you in class to holding hands in the halls. When you’re on the flight field? Just touching down? You barely get off your dragon and he’s wrapping you up in a spinning hug, not giving a damn about your dragon’s annoyance of having him too close. Outside of class when the two of you are studying or just hanging out with the rest of the group? You’re in his lap, his head resting on your shoulder, with him giving you a whispered running commentary of little jokes and narration as the group socializes. And when its just the two of you? Cuddles. Constant cuddles. Dude just needs to feel you close, feel your warmth, assuring himself that the two of you are indeed alive and well. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who teases you about schoolwork, but absolutely helps you learn everything you need to. Not malicious about it, or even remotely degrading, just pure teasing. Like “Aw, Y/N, c’mon that problem isn’t that hard. Here you just gotta…” or “Really? I finished that essay yesterday. I bet you’ve just been staring at my handsome face too long, huh? Let me help you…”. Like dude isn’t a huge fan of schoolwork, there’s a lot more important things to be learning and doing, but he’s smart, and even if he doesn’t agree, I guess that history quiz is important to learn. And he’ll be damned if his partner isn’t keeping up. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who shares rooms with you every night. This plays into the touching thing, he literally cannot sleep without you beside him. Not to mention, I feel in my bones that this man would have literal sweat-inducing, crying out into the dark, nightmares if he didn’t have his arms around you. Especially if you guys got together after Violet was attacked in her room. Ain’t no way he’d ever let anything happen to you on his watch. I think he’d last a week, max after the two of you get together before he starts crawling into bed with you in the middle of the night, sheepish grin, and whining about how it’s just warmer with you beside him. The moment he has you in his arms his heart rate slows and every muscle relaxes, and he’s asleep in seconds. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who takes making sure you’re taking care of yourself as his personal job. He’s a fucking tyrant about it. He hasn’t seen you drink water in the last hour? He’s shoving a water bottle in your hands and giving you a light glare and telling you to "drink". Wanna try only eating fruit or a salad at meals? It’s… “Ugh-ugh Baby, you better put protein on that plate or I’ll do it for you.” as he’s following behind you in the food line. Looking even mildly under the weather? He’s already preparing supplies and urging you to take things easier. Not taking care of your skincare or other personal hygiene? He literally sits you down and does it for you. It’s all because he wants to make sure you’re in the best condition you can be. People die for less in this college, and if he has any power over it, you’re gonna be well and prepared for anything this world has to throw your way. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who you cannot train with, at all. Not because he’d ever hurt you, but because he’s afraid to hurt you. He’d take it so fucking easy on you, that training with him wouldn’t be useful in any capacity. Even weights or running, he’s encouraging you to take it easy, so the dude has to stay on the other side of the room, thoroughly distracted with his own training so the both of you can get something done. He knows what you need, but the man cannot deliver it himself. He has faith in his friends to be able to push you, so he leaves it to them. However, during challenges? Ridoc is front and center, cheering you on without being distracting, and rarely getting scared for you. You kick ass, that’s why he’s made you his. He wraps you in a big hug after, promising massages and snuggles later. His baby just kicked ass after all, they deserve to relax now. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who ALWAYS makes sure you’re watching him when he’s on the mat. You’re his good luck charm after all ;). He’s shooting you looks like ‘Really? They tried that?’ Or ‘YAWN, I could beat this guy in my sleep”,  and you know what each and every one of them means because, well, he talks a lot, so at this point you’ve absolutely memorized what every face means. He also likes to know he has your full attention because you have his attention all the time, so it’s only fair.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who takes you on secret dates and outings all the time. He loves you, he wants to spoil you, and frankly, he never knows when its all gonna end. From sneaking out to go to the tavern alone to simple study dates in an empty classroom where he’s set up some candles for mood lighting, he is always coming up with new ways to spend quality time with you. It’s one of his favorite hobbies, to see how your face lights up every time. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who your dragon has a unique relationship with. They like him, though it certainly didn’t start that way. The man is loud, irritating, and much too unserious for their liking. But over time, with forced proximity, your dragon has grown a fondness for him. “Like a tumor” they’d say, but then let him cuddle you and lean against their side on the flight field after flying practice when the two of you are bored and don’t want to go back inside yet. They don’t let anyone else within ten feet of them, one extra human is bad enough. I also think that the two of your dragons would have to have a good relationship with each other. Not necessarily as mates, but definitely a strong bond of friendship. He always wants eyes on you and within a close distance, which means if your dragons hated each other, it would just make things difficult for the two of you. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who just overall has the best intentions when it comes to you. He trusts you wholly, and expects you to trust him too. It’s impossible not to; he’d absolutely never truly judge you, and has your back in every instance. Trust just comes easily with him. Even if his past conquests come knocking he either ignores them completely (“Do I know you?”) or LOUDLY tells them off if they are feeling bold. No one comes before you in his mind, so there’s no way he’d ever jeopardize what he has with you. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who is just a little sweetheart, who wants his partner to be safe and by his side for as long as time will allow. He’ll do anything to continue having silly dates and fall asleep with you every night. Anything.  

@xadenswhore @littlemissmelodie @jobroho @worldsanna @the-lake-is-calling