#Girly is having the time of her LIFE eating those guts-

[whereismyhat5678]

Art trade with Lucia!! 💞💞

Thank you for the trade btw, I had fun making this one since I got to go ham-

(But Tw if you don’t like blood AND organs <:] trust me there’s a lot- AND I MEAN A LOT)

POV: Noise actually tried to fight Lucia, task was unsuccessful

[svmjaeyvn]

love maze, s.jy.

chapter one pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist here!

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER ONE: PINEAPPLE

masterlist next

word count: 2.5k

warnings: alcohol, partying, creeper in a store, bestie jay, already stepping up to be a fake bf jake duhhh

a/n: short and sweet intro

"HEY SORRY, JAY's busy—”

"Hey baby!" You smile brightly, attempting to seem causal but emphasizing the conversation rather loudly. Wandering through the isles aimlessly, stopping to pretend to browse the selection of cereals while peeking through the corner of your eye, you keep watch on the unfamiliar man that seemed to be following you.

You've been at the store for 15 minutes, around 10 of those ago you noticed the same man over and over, passing by each other with first polite smiles which morphed into a sort of anxiety feeling on your end noting how he began to linger around more obviously, far enough away to not seem suspicious to those around but definitely setting off an alarm in your head to stay alert.

It was a Friday night, after finishing up with your last minute shift due to a coworker calling out, you decided it was time to finally grocery shop, something that you've been putting off all week due to laziness but now you wished you opted to eat eggs for the third day in a row rather than be here. Typically, you and Yunjin went to the store together, but with her out on a date, that left you alone for the night.

"We're still cooking for dinner right? I'm at the store right now picking stuff up," You continue after meeting confused silence on the other end. Due to the increasing gut feeling and you desperate for someone to come to your aid in at least knowing where you were if you did end up missing and on the news, you called the only person you knew in the area that would come. Jay Park, an extended family friend that you practically grew up attached to each others hips, had followed you along to the same Uni two years ago. With a three hour car ride being the distance to your home town, you and Jay depended on each other as a sort of familiarity and unspoken acknowledgment that there was support for one another.

University created a sort of distance in your relationship, both studying different majors and finding your own friend groups outside of one another but you still talked every other day through text and hung out occasionally. Jay, being a well know frat boy around campus, became a sort of gossip topic of him and his other frat members. His admittedly attractive looks that he grew into helping with his popularity along with his love for the party scene.

You on the other hand, were a home body more than anything. After your first year, you had moved into an apartment about 5 minutes away off-campus with your previous dorm-mate and newly founded best friend. You and Yunjin became close relatively fast and being able to get through freshmen year living together in the tiny space meant you'd work perfectly well moving in a place where you both got your own rooms and a private bathroom.

Thus, your routine consisted of lectures, homework, your part-time job, and sleep. It was quiet and comfortable. Not that you were opposed to a night out and getting drunk off your ass every once in a while but being a party girl didn't seem like your cup of tea to do every weekend.

"Sorry, ___ it's Jake. I don't know where Jay is, he just left his phone with me earlier," Jake speaks into the phone, making his way out of the booming house to better hear her. The muffled music and loud voices heard from his end causing a slight panic to rise in your stomach but also nearly face palm. It's a Friday night, of course he was partying.

You rake your brain to put a face to the name. You've met Jay's frat friends on occasion, though they mostly consisted of when you were all drunk so it was sort of a blur.

"Yeah I'm at Target," You nod, specifying your location and hoping that whoever Jake was, he was sober enough to comprehend that something was wrong and that he'd remember your words. "Do you want anything else specifically?" From the corner of your eye, you can see the man beginning to pace, seemingly growing antsy with waiting on you to move. Deciding it was best to make your way toward the front where more workers would be, you completely disregard your near empty cart and pushed it along while holding your phone to your ear.

"... Are you okay?" Jake inquires, his brows burrowed together in confusion but feeling the underlying feeling of the call. The only reason he answered was because he knew you and Jay were close, having met less than a handful of times but the contact picture Jay saved you under allowed him to remember who you were. The three spammed messages you sent prior to your call being unable to be read due to his phone being locked. He intended to only inform you of the reason the said boy wouldn't respond for a while but it ended up to this rather weird conversation.

"Uh... no I don't think so," You answer, acting as if you were responding to a question. Jake straightens up slightly, unaware if that was an actual answer or if you were still on the one sided random talk through the phone. He sort of hoped it was the second option for your sake. "Okay I'll look. I'm sure they have pineapple,"

Jay was an overprotective guy, especially when it came to those he cared about. Early on, whenever they'd go out, he told everyone that their emergency code word was pineapple. Jake, along with the other boys, found it utterly ridiculous and never once had to actually use it but he did remember the word loud and clear even months later. The conversation was far too random and specific for you to just casually be saying that, and thus Jake assumed the safe word was something Jay used universally.

"You're at the store in town right?" He asks, now heading back into the house, weaving his way through the bodies in search of his friends.

"Yeah," You nod disregarding that he couldn't see it. There was two Targets in the area you lived it, though one was undeniably farther away from the University. In town referred to the one you stood in, absentmindedly staring at the electronics assuming there had to be more cameras in this area. "Okay, well, I'll be home soon then,"

"Give me ten minutes," Jake said into the phone before handing up the call, not giving you time to respond. Scrunching up your nose, you felt significantly smaller without the comfort of another voice on the other line. From the opposite isle, you could see the man lingering around the corner, now staring directly at you but quickly looking away upon making eye contact.

With a slight pit in your stomach, you take a second to breathe. Attempting to seem inconspicuous, you glance over your items and visibly pale. The only things consisted of body wash, a bag of lemons, and ice cream bars that were now melting. You had circled the food department a near three times and hadn't picked up much even though you made it rather clear on the call you were meant to be getting dinner. Silently praying that the man wasn't keen enough to pay that much attention, you shake off the shiver that ran down your spine.

Meanwhile, Jake ran through the house collecting his friends one by one. Luckily, with it being only 7:30 and rather early in the night, no one was near hammered yet, barely started on a buzz when he interrupted. Not much was shared in the process, the urgent way Jake pulled them along was enough for them to follow but Heeseung finally questioned it once they were packed in the car driving away from their own party.

"Where we going man?" The eldest asked, running a hand through his hair lazily.

Jake, being the only one with less than half a bottle of beer in, was in the driver seat. He drove fast, weaving through the lanes occasionally but still safe enough to not seem suspicious.

He glanced back at Jay through the rearview mirror, said boy tilting his head back in confusion. "___ called you, she's having an issue. Said something about pineapple and wasn't having an actual conversation with me so I'm assuming someone was following her,"

Jay straightened up, leaning closer from his seat while the other two spared glances. "When?"

"Right before I went to find you, told her to give me 10 minutes," Jake answers, partially relieved that Jay seemed concerned by the matter meaning he interpreted the call correctly but that only meant you were actually in trouble. "It's been 6,"

"Drive faster," Was all the other boy said, the few shots of liquor seemingly gone as he sobered up almost instantly. Though, the panic and overwhelming anger that brewed in the back of his head indicated that he was being influenced by the intoxication. Not that it would be a problem, especially if you were in danger of some sort.

Heeseung and Sunghoon sat quietly as Jake drove, connecting the dots for themselves due to the conversation. A minute later, the four were barreling out of the car and into the building. The bright lights contrasted against the dark outside, the boys looking around for sight of the girl.

"Give me my phone," Jay tells Jake, holding out his hand expectantly while he pulls it out of his back pocket. Tapping through the screen for a moment, Jay hold up the device to his ear waiting for you to answer but it goes to voicemail.

"She was talking about food so maybe she was over there?" Jake offers, leading the way toward the back of the store which held all the groceries.

Jay tries once more, holding the phone up as it dials. This time, there's the faint chime of an incoming call that was further away. Sunghoon nodded in the direction it came from, heading toward the area which consisted of books, music, and other miscellaneous things.

"No, thank you, I'm alright," Your voice was recognized first by Jay. Speeding up his steps, he rounds the corner to see you backed away toward the far end of the isle, the cart in between you and an unfamiliar man who had his back toward the four. Your eyes widened seeing the familiar face, slightly relieved but still in a sense of panic considering the man that was following you grew the courage a minute ago to actually say something now, keeping you tucked away in the corner as he did.

Attempting to step away, you shift to the right but the man matched your movement, staying directly in your path and blocking it. Moving to your left, he matched that as well causing you to purse your lips. He smiled, seeming as if it were amusing to see you becoming undone with his actions which sent a chill up your spine. Aside from his creepy stalking, he seemed and looked like a regular guy, which made it even worse because of how normal he seemed upon first glance.

"Teenie," Jay spoke up, making his and the rest of their presence known, using a nickname rather than your actual one. The guy turned at the sound, his face morphing from the smile into one of annoyance, a  clear grimace on his features at the interruption. "Come here," The space between where you stood and Jay was a couple of feet, having to go around the man in the process as he had backed you into the wall moments ago.

Expecting for him to allow you to move without resistance this time, you go to step around him but he still continues to block your way. Going as far as grabbing hold of your arm causing your eyes to widen and pull back instantly. The anxiety that grew in your stomach elevated significantly, it was wishful thinking that having four grown and tall men would have the single one back down but it seemed he was crazy enough to not care about that.

"Stop being a fucking creep dude," Heeseung spoke up, growing rather frustrated and particularly peeved that he had the audacity to grab you. If they hadn't shown up he couldn't imagine what he'd attempt.

"We're not done talking," The man sneers, the tone of his voice causing the hairs on your neck to stand up, goosebumps forming along your skin though your body felt like it was burning up inside. "You the boyfriend?" He adds, nodding toward Jay who faltered, confused by the sudden question.

Jake lets out a small sigh, growing tired of the back and forth. Stepping forward, he holds out his hand to you without a word. Now a mere foot apart, he stares down the guy, almost taunting him in attempt to do something. Quickly, your hand latches onto his, albeit clammy from your nervousness but as he pulled you into his side, you felt significantly safer than before.

Tucking you behind him, Jake walks you both back a few steps, returning to the rest who had moved up closer. Still holding tight onto Jake's hand, you grasp onto his arm as well, holding it as if it were a security blanket and would make everything better.

"I am," Jake answers, taking the rest of you by surprise. His fib was believable, you clinging to his side playing the part and the boys merely went along with it. "We done here?"

The man didn't say a word, the silent stare down that occurred between Jake and him more than enough. Finally, he looked away, accepting there wasn't anything he could do to win in this. Whatever that was. Turning around, Jake began to lead you away, not bothering to look back as the other three followed behind, ensuring he stayed in place as they went.

You let out a shakey sigh, deeming it far enough away as you could see the exit. Feeling the ever-growing tears weld in your eyes, a few began to slip from the corners painting soft streaks down the apples of your cheeks. Silently, Jake allowed for Jay to pull you into his embrace, presuming having the one you were closest with to comfort you would be best.

A quiet sob slipped past your lips upon being wrapped into his arms. Jay let out a small shush, one of his hands rubbing small circles with his thumb against your back, visibly upset by how affected you were as he tucked his head down toward your ear, whispering words of reassurance that everything was okay and nothing would happen.

Heeseung tapped Jake's shoulder, nodding him along to give the two of you a minimal amount of space but also linger close enough in case the crazed man decided to have second thoughts and come back. Meanwhile, Sunghoon had made his way over to one of the cashiers, explaining the situation and how the female staff should be cautious until security had eyes on the man.

Jake glanced over as Jay had pulled back from the hug, his hands on either side of your face as he wiped away the tears that kept falling from your eyes. His heart tugged at the sight of you, looking utterly disheartened with a slightly red nose and your mascara beginning to smudge.

He's glad he answered.

[strawberryfairi]

TR Guys + Their Types PT 2

Headcanons! ↳ Black Girl Edition🤎

⚜️Featuring: Hakkai Nahoya (Smiley) Draken Mitsuya Wakasa

(Honestly I love making these)

Hakkai

~ Ugh, Hakkai the sweetheart. ~ He's so freaking shy and awkward so he'll definitely need some help from a more bold kind of girl....at least with a bit more guts than him or else chile...the relationship ain't getting nowhere.

~ I could see Hakkai with a girl that loves to color coordinate clothes and kind of match together every now and then; maybe for a little date night.

~ Going off of this^^ I could for SURE see him having a couples fashion page together with her. Like think of those boujee high fashion show audience member outfits like a Schiaparelli or Balmain vibe.

~ I think Hakkai would go for the kind of woman with a really naturally soothing voice. That kind of just airy, light voice.

~ Definitely loves the kind of woman that loves doing fun activities together (I know y'all remember that scene in S2 when Hakkai was tearing up that bowling alley and pool table and all that)!

~ As for hairstyles, Hakkai truly does love anything she's wear and I could definitely see him getting style advice from you (even though he eats all of his hairstyles).

Nahoya (Smiley)

~ I can so see him with someone that's good at doing hair. Like she'll try out all these cute styles on him that'll have him lookin' good. I could see him start feelin' himself after she tries a new style on him that he likes. (Potentially a genuine hair stylist).

~ Will definitely turn her into his own personal hair stylist.

~ I think he'd love the kind of girl that will take his outfits and completely finesse them. Like wearing one of his bomber jackets or tops and makes it look ten times better on her.

~ I can absolutely see him going for a girl that's into high street wear styles! For example: Imagine a graphic tee that's tied in the front for a slight crop effect with some cute cut out designs in the back, cute jeans, topped off with tie up heels and a cute little mini bag.

~ She MUST get along with his brother or else it's just not happening. But that's obvious.

~ Since he be so damn rowdy all the time, I can see him with the kinda girl that levels him out.

~ I can also very much see him with a comical girl. Like she's just always making him laugh and is genuinely a funny and witty person. Also good with comebacks.

Draken

~I feel like Draken definitely likes the girly type. Lipgloss collections, cute skirts, a plethora of perfumes both high and low end, and shopping is a therapeutic experience for her. Like he can't keep up with her new outfits.

~ Personality-wise she's gotta value family and friendships. He definitely would NOT like the type that's just always randomly cutting someone off because of one minor argument or something they said. I think he'd like the kinda woman that will work things out and value the people she has in her life (especially because he never really had his parents so he always cherishes the people he does have).

~ I think he'd like a ray of sunshine kind of girl. Just always lighting up a room with her bubbly and upbeat personality.

~ When it comes to her hair, I can absolutely see him obsessed with the different kind of braid styles she does. From Fulani braids to cornrows with zigzag parts, he just utterly eats it up every time.

~ And don't even get him started with the cute beads! Like..it's a yes for him.

~ He definitely likes for her to do his hair for him, and try out different kinds of braids aside from his simple braided ponytail.

Mitsuya

~ Ok so this man Mitsuya for sure loves a family oriented woman, just straight off the bat.

~ I think he'd like a very down to earth and friendly kind of girl.

~ I could see Mitsuya with a cook like...hold on hear me out.

~ Mitsuya is already good at cooking but I can see him with a professional or just really great cook. I can imagine him cooking and learning things from her wether it's just how to cook more efficiently or cooking foods from other cultures (*cough* Like Soul Food *cough*).

~ Mitsuya would like a girl that can show him all kinds of new things and he could show her new things as well.

~ I think Mitsuya is just the kinda guy who is interested in lots of things so he'd like a girl who's open-minded in that way too.

~ Definitely can see him with a fashionable woman too. I just imagine him first meeting her by being so entranced by her outfit and her walk (instantly she becomes his muse that he creates all kinds of fashions for).

~ I don't think Mitsuya would mind being with a tall girl either. On some Zendaya x Tom Holland vibe!

~ I for sure believe Mitsuya loves to do spontaneous dates! Some days it's real fancy and boujee and other days it's just a chill date night at home with a nice meal he's cooked and a cute "restaurant music" playlist he picked on Spotify. So a woman that doesn't mind the full spectrum of dates (cause let's be honest some girls be like boujee dates ONLY, trynna be extra...) he'd really appreciate.

Wakasa

~ Honestly I feel like Wakasa would like a woman that's really opposite from him in certain ways.

~ For example^^, I think he'd love an energetic, highly sociable type of woman. Loves to talk and meet new people while Wakasa's a bit more quiet and reserved (doesn't mean he doesn't like to talk, it's just not gonna be his go-to thing to do unless he's drunk as a skunk).

~ It's an official cannon that Wakasa is the clingy type so I could definitely see him with the kind of woman that's not really that way but puts up with his clinginess just for him.

~ I'm also getting wise vibes. Like he'd like a woman that is really wise and will have him thinking about things from different perspectives when they talk about certain topics.

~ I feel like Wakasa would like a woman that is (like Mitsuya) on the more open-minded side when it comes to trying all kinds of new things. Wakasa seems like the type that wouldn't really mind trying something he's never done at least once just to see.

~ Definitely could see him with like an outdoorsy girl, or at least someone who's open to camping or going out fishing (and doesn't mind the bugs💀...).

~ I think Wakasa would like a girl that's random. As in just does random stuff out of nowhere due to boredom (ex: breaking out into song loudly in the middle of silence or quoting random movie lines).

~ As for outfits, I think Wakasa would be drawn to like the super cute, dainty, feminine style. Loves him a cute frilly skirt or sundress! He spends so much time around his friends and stuff (a whole bunch of rowdy ass gang boys), that when he sees a really girly girl it's like he's hit by a feminine ultra-blast or something (what am I saying lol).

~ For hairstyles, I think Wakasa would be OBSESSED with the perm rod curls style. Those super cute, bouncy spiral curls would have him staring so hard on accident (lowkey lookin' like a weirdo). I could see him always pulling on them then letting go to watch it bounce back.

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: As requested I made some new headcanons @honeybunhottie 🩵 Hope you enjoy it as much as the last!

[queenharumiura]

Send me a URL and I'll post 10 house rules their muse and mine would have if they lived together (signorinavongola)

SEND ME A URL AND I’LL POST 10 HOUSE RULES THEIR MUSE AND MINE WOULD HAVE IF THEY LIVED TOGETHER ||Accepting|| @signorinavongola

I’m writing this with the premise that this would take place before Tsuna moved to Italy and Haru taking on the responsibility of raising the displaced kids. What age would that make em? Ehhh--- so anyways!

I get this gut feeling that when they moved in together, safety was the biggest priority and concern given that Tsu-chan is the boss, so, many safety measures are put in place. I’m not sure what they may all be, but I’m sure an escape plan is part of it, or knowing all the safety features (ie security alarms, sensors, traps, etc). Haru had to learn all of that by heart to ensure her safety as well. I feel this mostly came from the fact that Tsu-chan would worry a lot for Haru’s safety and couldn’t rest easy if not reassured by all the safety protocols in place. Tsuna could be a target for enemies, so living with her could be a danger, hence Haru had to learn as one of the rules.

Going off of the previous, due to safety concerns, giving out the address to where they live is basically prohibited. Of course, it’s not kept secret from those like the guardians. Mostly just regular civilian types like Haru’s school friends. It’s so others can be kept safe from being targeted by mere association. It’s something that they learned to be wary about due to the future arc and how anyone who knew the Vongola were being attacked by the Millefiore. Makes getting things in the mail a lil tricky, due to privacy. I think they probably utilize something like a PO box for important things.

[Tradition] Every week or two weeks (schedules permitting) they have just a day where the two will have a girls night and just relax. They may live together, but that doesn’t mean they are in the know of any latest gossips about eachother’s lives. It’s also just an excuse to make sure that Tsuna is getting some time to relax and enjoy life. They can watch movies, maybe go shopping, etc. Not exactly a rule but more like Haru will take Tsu-chan by the hand and start rattling off ideas to have fun with.

[Tradition] As they both have interests in things like fashion or making clothing, I could see that the two would on occasion spend time to draw up different patterns for clothing for fun and when Haru has the spare time, she’d try her hand at making them. Gather enough for these outfits for a makeshift fashion walk. Just fashionable girly bonding activity things.

There is a grocery list held up by magnets on the fridge and they switch off on whose turn it is to do the shopping—it’s to keep things fair and so that Haru isn’t the only one doing the housework. If she was doing everything, it would feel like Haru was some live-in maid and Tsu-chan wouldn’t let that happen to her friend, so she likely offered to take on some responsibilities.

No work at the dining table. Food is an important part of life and it should be enjoyed to the fullest. If Haru had taken the time to cook a meal, she’d at least want Tsu-chan to be enjoying the eating experience, and not eat while distracted by work. If Tsu-chan is looking over work while eating, Haru would hold the documents hostage until Tsu-chan finishes eating. Focus on the food. Take a break from work for at least 20 minutes! It’s better for your health!

Mostly because it’s a ‘it would stress Haru out playing host at such a late hour’ there is a rule that no guys (ie the guardians) allowed at their place after 8pm. Phones exist for a reason. Message or call. You don’t need to come to their place for any reason after 8pm, is what Haru would assert. By that time (of 8pm), Haru likes to be lounging in her casual homewear, and she refuses to be seen like that by guests. One, it can be embarrassing, and sometimes her casual homewear consists of shorts and a tanktop so she really refuses to be seen by the guys like that.

(Unwritten rule) Haru just adores Natsu and will on occasion ask/beg Tsu-chan to bring him out so she can play with him and spoil him for a little bit. Such a hard working bean needs to be spoiled!

(Unwritten rule) Haru enjoys trying out new food recipes or recipes for sweets, and when she finds something she’s curious about, she’s going to give it a try. She loves cooking for people and seeing them enjoy what she made, so when she’s trying out a new recipe, Tsu-chan is always her first taste tester. Always.

I feel like—due to them living together, Tsu-chan would get to see more of how Haru operates on the daily and get a better feel for how Haru’s emotions are and how she deals with things. Living with someone can make you more sensitive to minute changes, so I think after living together, Tsu-chan would become more sensitive to when Haru is being bothered by something. She normally doesn’t like to talk about what bothers her because she feels like she’d be a burden. As such, she has a habit of avoiding talking about things by playing dumb or dismissing it altogether. Not a good habit, obviously, and it doesn’t feel good when you see your friend like that, so I think Tsu-chan made it an agreement of sorts that Haru be more honest about things, at least when they’re alone together in their home.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 89

Free To Be You and Me

The weather is starting to get a little crazy like it did last weekend when my power was threatening to go out, so noon is the perfect time to watch���will it kill my previously functioning executives? Probably

“Free To Be You and Me”

Plot Description: Not sure he trusts himself anymore, Sam gives up hunting. Meanwhile, Dean teams up with Castiel to find the Archangel Raphael

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died

I could never be a Sam girlie but I will say I understand him in this moment. I can’t decide if he means “I won’t make the mistakes that cost me everyone I’ve loved again” or “I won’t be close enough to anyone ever again so the prospect of their death can’t be used against me. If I have no ties to anyone, no one can get hurt because of me”

Couldn’t he have just become the new Ash? Not that Ash is replaceable, he most certainly isn’t, but he could have gone with Ellen and Jo and been their research guy, their “i’ll figure out the omens so other hunters can go hunt” guy.

This montage of Dean hunting and Sam bartending…I hate seeing them apart

CAS STANDS SO. CLOSE. TO HIM. PLEEEEASE

“Me and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while” because he knows Sam WILL come back. 😭😭😭

Castiel, I love you so much, but this feels like a bad plan. You’re going to go find the ARCHANGEL who HAD ALREADY KILLED YOU ONCE and…and somehow trap and interrogate him? Babes, please

“I need your help because you’re the only one who will help me” should go in the canon of gut wrenching ship lines with the likes of “who did this to you?” and “I didn’t know where else to go”

And to have “whoa! whoa! Last time you zapped me some place, I didn’t poop for a week” follow it barely seconds later….*gestures grandly* Supernatural.

See? He can’t help but see the omens. I mean, they ARE all over the place because it IS the APOCALYPSE (how fortunate to be watching apocalyptic episodes on the 10th anniversary of the Mishapocalypse)

You didn’t teach him how to hold the fake FBI badge?? Bestie, what the fuck did you DO on the car ride there?? Not ONE lesson on how to be human? How to pass for an FBI agent?? Come on…

Ohhh. Oh Cas…oh no, Dean, where are you taking my precious angel on his last night on earth??

Those hunters aren’t coming back, are they??

Oh so Sam DID mean the “not forming any more ties to people” way while Dean is still fully expecting him back at some point. I hate this show (affectionate)

“This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here.” I love him.

Sometimes I hate the writers, and sometimes they send Cas to….I genuinely can’t tell what this location actually is (strip club but like high end? Brothel of dome type? I am VERY VERY ACE) and meet a woman doing sex work going by the name Chastity.

Aaaaaand the writers ruined it again…ooooo women in sex work having daddy issues. It’s cliche af

This girl doesn’t know Sam broke the last seal that kickstarted the apocalypse

Dean…stop antagonizing the archangel. Just because he don’t kill you because you’re Michael’s vessel

Yeah……I knew at least one of those hunters was gonna eat it. Gruesomely.

“You remember the 20th century. You think the 21st is going any better?” Raph’s got a point from where I’m sitting in 2023

Is there ANYONE ON THIS SHOW WHO DOESNT HAVE DADDY ISSUES? And yes. I AM talking about Raphael here

Bet Lindsey is regretting wanting to know Sam’s life story now…

Her little gasp! Like she’s never seen a bar fight! Girl, please!!

Dean continuing to call an archangel a ninja turtle is so funny

Ouch! “I’ve had more fun with you in the past 24 hours than I’ve had with Sam in years. And you’re not that much fun” Dean said a burn on both of you

The Deanificatiom of Touya/the Touyafication of Dean agenda continues…

Stop taking away Sam’s hope, dream/ghost Jess!!! Oh…you know, when I saw mark’s name in the credit but then there’s only like 2 minutes left. Yeah, that’s the devil talking, Sammy. Literally

And now we get the drop that Sam is Lucifer’s true vessel.

“Been On My Mind…”: I mean, Lindsey was throwing herself pretty hard at Sam, but he wasn’t biting. 7?

[deadrayg2mf]

Prey (Coveted Prey #1) by L.V. Lane

This review is going to start out with a confession... I am not an omegaverse girlie... I know that seems like something I would just have to be to also be in this line of business, and I do enjoy several stories that are extremely omegaverse adjacent, but straight up omegaverse like the above is not my cup of tea. I try to be fair in my reviewing, so I have not allowed the 269 pages of in-your-face omegaverse content from this book skew me too much... it’s just so much omegaverse  ㅠㅠ (note, I should not have brushed off the usage of omega in the book description like I did and also should have just paid more attention to the description it is a very clearly labelled omegaverse story) (another note I must make after finishing this review... This book had like one sort of werewolf in it so... honestly, not really monster fucker worthy but I’ll do the review anyways)

Carrying on, this is quite a potentially interesting story, with plenty of gut-pummeling smut, and characters. I will say leading into the book I really like Belle, our female lead... up until she’s taken by her mates. She starts out with this really interesting character right off the bat who I would have loved to get to know more before she becomes a brainless sex-drunk omega... Especially her notion of being able to get through any menial task as if her life is dependent on it, I think that gives us a really good idea of how tough it has been for her and how she’s only been able to get through, even the smallest things, by making them huge ordeals that directly tie to her fate. I would have been interested to see what she would have done if she’d managed to run away or literally done anything more than what she got to do before those three showed up.

So, the potentially interesting female lead doesn’t last long... The moment she’s subdued by alpha pheromones this character no longer exists, and especially after she gets a cock (or three) stuffed in her this girl no longer has any thought on the mind other than constantly being fucked. Which like... fair, but her being like that for the rest of the 200 or so pages just makes her fucking boring honestly, and I ended up more interested in reading from the male leads perspectives than hers cause 9 out of 10 times she is just figuring out what she needs to do to get plowed (spoiler; not much).

I liked the male leads, I guess (did not like the idea of a human penis with a knot). Silas is the lead alpha, he’s in charge, no nonsense, and less of a stick in the mud than Dax. Dax is the next after Silas, he’s even more stoic than his brother, doesn’t talk much, and has a, to quote, “log between his legs.” Nate is their half-brother who is a half-shifter. He likes to whine, eat a long, and anal sex. Oh, and surprise... there is a fourth brother, Brams. He is fine, not around for most of the book but basically like Silas except a little bit cleaner cut and a little bit better at seeming like a gentleman. Oh, and he is also the firstborn which means him and Silas have beef since he is not also the lead alpha.

For what it was this book had decent writing, an okay but lacking plot, and literally buckets on buckets of smut. Unfortunately, it also had an infantilized female lead, male characters who were overbearing, and did I mention they have human penises with knots. Overall, I found myself physically tensing up and holding my breath as I read this, I was uncomfortable for the majority of it, and I had to give myself a two-day break between finishing it and writing this review for recouperation time. I blame a lot of physical reactions to this due to the omegaverse nature of it and the rest to characters I deem overall mediocre leaning towards bad. Had I gotten more out of Belle I think I would have enjoyed this more. 5/10

Would I read again? No, god please don’t make me  ㅠㅠ

Would I recommend? To someone who is looking for a smut-heavy omegaverse read - yes. To anyone else? No.

[tooruluv]

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 10 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,005

warnings/notes: hi guys. only two more parts...that’s crazy... anyway. this one has some underage drinking and maybe some kisses lol. jk....unless... anyway. enjoy.

tag list: @afuckingunicornn​​​​​​​ @maii-flowers​​​​​​​ @clandestinerays​​​​​​​ @brownandchill​​​​​​​ @readeretal​​​​​​​ @wedojustbevibin​​​​​​​ @shigarakiskitten​​​​​​​ @shittykawaa​​​​​​​ @saeranoppa​​​​​​ @srirachibi​​​​​​ @tpwkatsumu​​​​​ @sempiternal-amour​​​​​ @bokutos-h0e​​​​​ @pinknugget​​​​​ @intheawks​​​​​ @tori218​​ @seikamuzu��​ @alexthe80swhore​​ @ghostly-toastie​ @bumbledunce​ @pineapplelantern​

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Tooru Oikawa didn’t get jealous. One of the various traits that he gained by not having any serious relationships (and simply because he was awesome). However, he had a terrible feeling in his gut the minute he watched you meet another guy on your porch.

“You must be Oikawa.” The man said from his position beside you. You mumbled something, but Oikawa couldn’t hear.

“That is me. And you are…?”

“Kuroo.” The man didn’t move from the porch, hands in his jacket pockets and smirk-like smile plastered on his face. Oikawa expected him to come down, shake his hand as an introduction. Instead, Kuroo just gave a slight nod of his head. “See ya later.”

And with that, you scooped Kuroo into your house. Oikawa saw red.

“I told you that you didn’t have to talk to him.” You told Kuroo, scrolling on the TV to find a good movie to watch.

“I wanted to see how he’d react.” He shrugged and chuckled a little to himself. “He got jealous.”

“He did not.”

“He did too.”

“Oikawa doesn’t get jealous. He was probably just confused, since he’s never met you before.”

“Babe, he was just jealous. That face he made? Jealousy.”

“Ew don’t call me babe.”

“You don’t like it?”

You paused. “Just… don’t call me babe.”

“You do like it!”

You used to watch movies with Oikawa every Saturday. It was a tradition for as long as you could remember. But since the silence between you both, it hadn’t happened. Instead, Kuroo had decided to take over and watch movies with you.

He always let you pick the movie.

Hajime Iwaizumi wanted you to marry Tooru Oikawa. It was a secret of course, he would never tell either of you. And maybe it was because he wanted to be the best man, or maybe it was because he had watched you both pine over each other his entire life, but he did. He wanted you both to just confess, get the emotions out, and just be in love.

God, he hated being the best friend sometimes.

He sat and watched as Oikawa stared directly at you while practicing. You were waiting for Iwaizumi, a promised dinner in order, and decided to just wait in the gym. It wouldn’t be the first time you waited in the practice gym while they finished up.

“Hey, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi threw a ball at his friend. “How hard are you going to stare at her?”

“Hm?”

He threw another ball. It may have been a little bit harder that time.

Tooru Oikawa didn’t get jealous. So, why, he wondered, was he jealous when he watched you eat with Kuroo.

You even wore his hoodie.

Oikawa sat with the volleyball team, a team dinner for “bonding” as coach had claimed. They were in the corner, and you were sitting by the window. Unexpected.

You had Kuroo’s hoodie on.

“Staring again.” Iwaizumi muttered to him. Oikawa didn’t listen.

A laugh between you and Kuroo. Your hand on his. Kuroo had called you “babe”.

Why did you have Kuroo’s hoodie on?

“Stop calling me that!” you giggled, pushing his arm as he continued to call you “babe”.

“I can’t! Not when it makes you blush that hard.”

You haven’t gone to a volleyball game in weeks. It was another kink in your normal routine, your normal schedule.

It felt weird to go without the jersey.

So, during their latest game, instead of being at the game, you were sitting at Sana’s. You let her do your makeup, you took pictures of her products she used on the daily. It was just a lot of Girly Things, something you definitely were not used to.

“You can date him, you know.” Sana said as she fixed some of your makeup that got messed up when you laughed earlier. “Tooru, I mean. I don’t mind.”

“I…”

“Just. I want you to know that you can date him despite us being friends now.” She continued, looking over your face. “I don’t want me dating him holding you back.” She paused, only for a moment. “Oh! Or is it Kuroo that’s holding you back?”

You bit the inside of your mouth. “I don’t think it’s Kuroo.”

“Then what is?”

“Me.”

“Are you and Kuroo…together?” Oikawa asked you.

You two had a new theme after school. On Mondays, Oikawa would walk beside you in silence on your way home. He was waiting for you to make a move first, waiting to see when you would talk to him and be his go to again.

“I… what?” You gaped. “No. We’re not. Why would you…”

“I heard him call you “babe”. I just wanted to ask.”

“’Kawa.” You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to face him. His chest almost collided directly into your face. He waited for you to continue. “I’m telling you right now that I am not dating anyone, or planning to date anyone for that matter.” You looked between his eyes, back and forth. “Kuroo was the one who picked me up from the school after you yelled at me in the gym, he’s been a good friend.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You apologize too much.”

“I don’t think I’ve apologized enough.”

“Can I ask you something?” you haven’t moved, not yet.

“Yes, of course. Anything.”

“How did you know?” You asked. A question that had been burned into your skull. “How did you know that I was in love with you?”

Oikawa chuckled. “Was.”

“Hm?”

“You just said, “I was in love with you”. Was.”

You shook your head. “Do you want me to say it?”

“Say what?”

“Oh, nice try.” You rolled your eyes, and he smiled. You knew he was messing with you the minute he brought it up. “Seriously, how did you know?”

“I…I don’t know. I kind of figured after Sana broke up with me, and I was pissed off to I just let out all the accusations I could.” He was no longer looking at you. “I’m sorry.”

“There you go apologizing again.” You started to walk again. He followed. “How about this: what do you think about Saturday movie night?”

He nearly tripped over himself. “Yes. Yes I agree.”

Oikawa showed up at your house before dark. You knew that it was because he didn’t know if he would be staying over, or if it was just movie night and then you would kick him out. Either way, your mom was surprised.

“I didn’t know you two would be back to old habits so soon?”

“Well,” you held up the glasses of alcohol you already had on hand. “Old habits die hard.”

“Don’t kill yourselves. And clean up when you’re done!”

You sat a little bit further away from him than usual. He compensated by putting the popcorn bowl in the middle, trying to make it seem normal.

But, after a few drinks and some liquid courage, you shrugged. You moved the popcorn bowl to the ground and placed yourself directly beside him. His warmth was nice. Welcoming.

“Hey, ‘Kawa.”

“Hey, nut.”

He giggled, a little drunk soft giggle that made your stomach churn. He put his arm on the back of the couch, above your shoulders. You giggled back and laid your head into his side.

“More!” you cheered and drank straight out of the bottle.

It was late. Too late. And, to quote what they say on How I Met Your Mother: nothing good ever happens after 2 am.

You both were drunk. Not just tipsy, and not in a way that would even make sense. But both of you were completely gone, and you couldn’t even see what was on the TV anymore. And Oikawa’s a lightweight anyway.

“You’re cute.” you told Oikawa, a bit of a slur to your words.

“So are you.”

“You told me that you love me.” you were looking up at him, your head on his lap and his hands limp as they laid around your head. 

“I did, didn’t I?” he giggled, looking down at you.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you in love with me?”

He sent you the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. “Are you in love with me?”

Before your sane part of you told you no, and exactly when that drunk part of you said “fuck yeah it’s time”, you leaned up and kissed him.

Oikawa kissed back instantly, his lips molding into yours as perfect puzzle pieces. You moved up, straddling his hips and bringing you closer to him. He kept his hands on your outer thigh, quickly catching your lips as you kissed.

You were like this for a while, kissing and only taking breaks to smile into the kiss or to breathe. Until, finally, a little window of sobriety made you pull away.

You stayed on his lap, arms on his arms, with him looking up at you now.

“Sorry.”

“Now look who’s apologizing.” Oikawa smiled.

Oikawa stayed the night, though on the couch. You went to your room.

What the fuck just happened?

You told Iwaizumi the next morning. Like a schoolgirl who just had her very first kiss and had to run to her closest friend.

He came over so fast you swear he had super powers.

“Why do you still love him?” was the question Iwaizumi asked you as he laid in your room. Just like old times.

To which you only had one answer. “Because I don’t know how not to.”

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 6)

This is the final chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

Special thanks to @rueitae for betaing this chapter and to @onlysilvy for being a darling this whole time. Your support means everything. Also, sorry, Rue, I have no self-control.

Summary: Lance falls in love with Pidge on two different occasions. They eventually figure it out.

25 and 23 years old

The end of Lance’s first year as an MFE fighter saw him standing in front of Pidge’s room, wringing his hands. Anxiety clawed at his chest, but he had made up his mind to finally confess his feelings. With the anniversary of Allura’s death fast approaching – it was only two months away –, both Keith and Hunk had advised him to either spill his guts soon or wait for the new year. Lance had taken this to heart.

His work in the Garrison didn’t put him in direct contact with Pidge, but the two of them always made up excuses to see each other after hours. They would spend evenings in his apartment, playing video games or watching movies, or they would go over to Shiro’s for a round of Monsters and Mana, enjoying how excited Curtis got over the storylines.

Most of the time, Lance felt like they were already a couple, with how much they bantered. Even Veronica assured him that they were insufferable. So, every day it got harder for Lance to control his instinct to pull Pidge to him and kiss her, to finally let her know how much Lance wanted her in his life, forever.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Before Lance could make up his mind to knock, the door slid open to reveal Romelle. She stood there with a hand on her hip, her blonde hair pinned in a bun at the top of her head.

“You do realize there’s a sensor on the door?” There was laughter in her voice. “And a camera. I’ve been staring at your distressed face for almost five minutes.” Alarm must have flashed through his expression, because she snorted. “Don’t worry, she’s not here right now.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Romelle,” he said with little-to-no enthusiasm. The girl continued to grin at his misery, stepping aside so Lance could walk into the room. “When did you even get here?”

She moved to the bed, where several books were scattered around, and plopped back against the pile of pillows. Around the room, machinery parts and clothing pieces battled for the floorspace. It was an aspect of Pidge that never changed, the organized chaos of her room that no doubt reflected that brilliant mind of hers.

“Keith stopped by Altea to pick me up. Hunk wanted me to bring some produce from that quadrant, because Colleen’s last harvest was apparently jeopardized by a flood a junior botanist caused.” Romelle shrugged. “Katie didn’t know the specifics.”

Her use of Pidge’s given name no longer surprised Lance. People around the Garrison usually referred to the Holts by their titles, since their ranks within the organization demanded a certain level of reverence, but many of their colleagues from the war still called her Katie. Especially those who spent their time with Sam and Colleen, like Romelle.

“Have you seen Hunk and Matt yet?” Lance took a seat on the couch. It was old and gray, but comfortable enough. He and Shiro had dragged it into Pidge’s dorm after one too many nights of eating dinner on the floor.

The blonde shook her head. “Hunk and Shay are grabbing me for lunch and Matt is busy with his girlfriend.” She leaned against the headboard and, although her posture remained relaxed, the look in her eyes spoke of mischief. “Katie said I could chill –” she made quotation marks with her hands – “here while I waited, but if I’m interrupting something…”

Lance gave a spastic wave of his arms that probably did nothing to deny her suspicions. It was just his luck that Romelle was there again. She’d already witnessed his struggle when asking Allura out and now she could see right through him.

“Interrupting?” He forced a laugh. “Nah! It’s fine! Always good to see a friendly face!”

Romelle didn’t have the skill to emulate Pidge’s unimpressed look, but being best friends with Matt had certainly helped her get close to it. However, she also didn’t seem invested enough in his drama to pry, going back to digging through the books.

“I’m sure it was not 

 face you had hoped to see,” she commented nonchalantly, still looking down at the different covers. “Alas, it is what it is. Katie is in a meeting, so you might as well keep me company.”

Lance frowned at her, but chose not to follow through with the subject. “What are those books for?”

“It turns out that an education based around the teachings of a megalomaniac prince did not actually cover as much astrology as I had hoped.” Romelle looked down at her palms. There was an edge to her smile that Lance was sad to recognize as self-deprecation. “Hunk helps with what he can, but Matt and Katie are the real connoisseurs, apparently, so they gave me some material from when they were younger.” She heaved a sigh. “It’s a lot.”

“I’m really proud of you.” Lance smiled at her, a little awkward. “Allura would be, too.”

“What? Where did that come from?” Romelle made a face at him, but she was smiling as well. “I am simply trying to do my best. There is a lot I don’t know.”

“Yeah, but you’ve done your best since I met you and it’s always been enough.” Lance shrugged, shifting his gaze to the whiteboard that hung over Pidge’s bed. The equations there meant nothing to him. “Without you, we wouldn’t have been able to stop Lotor or Honerva. Besides, the Holts are very selective of the people they like. They don’t just take on hopeless cases.”

Romelle blew out a breath. Their eyes met tentatively, as they were both embarrassed by the situation. “You know, it is surprisingly easy to forget that you are a good person.”

“I’ve been told,” he deadpanned, much to the Altean’s amusement.

“Look, I do not need you to cheer me up. I appreciate it, but you can keep your compliments for Katie, who we both know would enjoy them more.” Even as she said this, it was clear that Romelle felt a little better. She picked up one of the books. “If you want to help, just quiz me on chapter ten.”

Lance got up from the couch to accept the book, grinning when he recognized the title. “Hey, I know this one!” He sat back down and flipped to the table of contents. “Yeah, I had to read this for a summer course I took when I was fourteen. That’s when I met Hunk,” he added for Romelle’s benefit.

“Hm, funny, that one is Matt’s.” She kneeled on the bed to look at the cover. “And there was one of Katie’s ribbons in it, so I believe she also read it.”

“One of her ribbons?” Lance frowned at her in curiosity. He had never seen Pidge carry ribbons around, but what would have been a ridiculous image in their teen years was now utterly charming. It was lovely to find out these small details about her.

“Yes. She used them to mark the pages when younger. There, there!” Romelle pointed to the book until Lance reached a page where a green ribbon laid across the words. She grinned. “Isn’t it adorable?”

It was.

At the same time, it reminded him of the difficulties Pidge had undergone during middle school and how she had only had Matt and her parents to rely on. Had she read her brother’s book as a way to escape the words of her colleagues? Or had she loved space so fiercely even then that her time of leisure was spent going through Matt’s training material?

“Do you think this is when their little feud over color-coding started?” Romelle broke him out of these thoughts. She had opened another one of the books and was flipping through the pages absent-mindedly. “I swear to the moons of Cobturg, if I have to listen to their arguments about this one more time, I–”

There was a beep and the door to the room opened once more, shutting Romelle up at once. Pidge took a second to look them over, before dropping her purse down at the coffee table.

“Why do you look so guilty?” She narrowed her eyes at Romelle, who let out a noise of protest, as if to say ‘Who? Me?’.

Lance went to her rescue. “She was telling me about the ribbons you used to collect.” He held up the green fabric, grinning. “Who would have thought? Our Pidge Gunderson was actually a normal, little girl once.”

Her hair was short again. It looked different, though, more put-together than the hairstyle she had used during their time in space. He supposed her responsibilities in the Garrison demanded a more polished appearance, but he kind of missed the disarray.

She looked very pretty like this. In fact, the overall effect of her wide-legged slacks, light-blue blouse, the hair and the boots left him feeling a little dazed.

Pidge rolled her eyes and made a grab for the ribbon, but Lance stood up and pulled it out of reach. She almost lost her balance from his sudden movement, putting a knee up on the couch to keep in place.

“Did you really come in here just to test my patience?” she asked, still standing in front of him.

Lance clicked his tongue playfully. “Nothing makes me happier than seeing you blush in anger.” He waved the ribbon around, smirking. “You make a beautiful tomato.”

“She’s more of a strawberry, really,” Romelle pointed out from her perch on the bed. She gestured towards her face. “It’s the little dots.”

“Those are called freckles.” Pidge pushed away from the couch and towards the Altean. “You were supposed to be studying, not ganging up with Lance to bother me.”

Romelle’s face dropped into an impressively effective look of anguish. “But it’s boring to study by myself.” She grabbed Pidge’s hands, swinging their arms lightly. “You promised I could do your hair before I left!”

Pidge glanced at him over her shoulder. Whether it was because she thought Lance might help her or simply because she was mortified by the idea of doing something so girly in front of him, he couldn’t tell. Before he could intervene, however, there was another beep from the door, then a knock.

“That must be Hunk,” Pidge declared, jumping away from Romelle.

The blonde rolled her eyes, but slid out of the bed and opened a small panel on the wall, where a screen was hidden. From behind her, Lance could see Hunk and Shay talking on the video feed.

“Saved by the bell,” he heard Pidge mutter under her breath.

“Aw, come on, Pidgeon.” Lance aimed a shit-eating grin at her, knowing it was easier to taunt her into things than to simply ask. “Now I want to see you looking all primped up!”

The girl did not back down. She puffed up her chest, lips set into a line, and turned to face him fully. “You’re supposed to be on my side here!” Then, in a lower voice, “I don’t want to set miss excitable over there loose with a brush!”

“I will have you know –” Romelle waggled a finger in the air – “that everyone in our crew thinks very highly of my styling skills. Is it not true?”

She whipped around to prod at her two teammates, who had just been let into the room. Hunk looked doubtful, but Shay nodded her head solemnly.

“Her hair is widely regarded as the most luscious and well-kept of our ship,” Shay declared with all the straight-faced earnestness that could be expected from a rock-person.

“She and Hunk are the only ones who have hair!” Pidge threw her hands up in frustration.

Lance felt himself chuckle. He barely ever got to see the interactions between this group. During his time at the farm, the only occasion when he saw everyone together was on the day they celebrated the end of the war. It hurt a little to think of all the events he’d lost while in Cuba or on his travels.

“How much harm can she really do?” He approached Pidge and ran a hand through her hair, letting the ends curl around his fingers. “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”

Pidge eyed him carefully and, though her countenance betrayed nothing, Lance was sure he’d felt her shudder at his touch.

“My hair is too short to do more than stubby ponytails,” she continued her objections. “It would be far from beautiful.”

“I don’t know…” He gave her a wink and, this time, red flooded her cheeks. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing anyone could do to make you not beautiful.”

“I changed my mind.” The interruption froze him in place, hand still on the nape of Pidge’s neck. “Get me out of here,” Romelle said to the other two, ignoring the glare Lance sent her way. “Before I scream.”

Hunk choked out a laugh. “Elle, you haven’t seen the worst of it.”

Lance pulled his hand back quickly. He hadn’t meant to act so impulsively, not in front of their friends at least. The only excuse he could find was that their antics had filled him to the brim with affection and now it spilled out, untamed.

“Don’t you three have a lunch to get to?” Pidge pushed her glasses up, moving away from Lance and further into the room. She stopped by her bedside table and fiddled with a tablet that had been lying there.

Surprisingly, Romelle let her avoidance pass without comment. She gave Pidge a long look, before voicing her agreement. “I’m taking these two to that coffeeshop you and I go from time to time.” There was something strangely emphatic about how she was speaking. “They have a new dessert I want Hunk to try and replicate.”

Pidge tensed, still not looking up from the tablet. “You mean the one we discovered with Allura.”

Lance and Hunk shared a look of confusion and dread. From the way Romelle’s expression twisted, it didn’t seem like that kind of despondency was what she had been trying to evoke. And Shay, bless her heart, appeared to be at a loss and kept shifting her gaze between the four of them, waiting for an explanation.

“Should we go, then?” she asked, uncertain. Romelle gave a quick nod and turned her face away from them. The frown she sported appeared out-of-place in the usually bright Altean.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Pidge had sat down on her bed and her eyes zeroed in on Romelle. “We can talk more then.”

The two girls nodded at each other.

As they traded goodbyes, Hunk sidled up to Lance, giving him an all-enveloping hug. They had talked earlier that morning, but Lance’s impending confession put him out-of-sorts. It was a nice hug, another aspect of the Garrison life that he’d missed: his friend, the support he gave, his unyielding belief on the people he loved.

Hunk held him in the hug for a second. “Don’t let her get away, dude.” They separated, but his friend kept going. “Not like this.”

And then he and Shay were gone.

Romelle stopped at the door. She turned to give Lance a considering look. “You mentioned Allura earlier. Wherever she may be, she would have wanted nothing but your happiness.” Her eyes shifted to something behind him and Lance could almost feel Pidge’s uneasiness at the stare. “That goes for the both of you.”

The door closed behind her, leaving those last words to hang in the air.

“Will you tell me what that was about?” Lance crossed the room to sit by Pidge. He poked her knee until she looked up at him.

“Can I pretend that it was just Romelle being Romelle?” Her eyes were sad as she said this. He almost gave in, but his worry spoke louder than his sympathy.

“I might not know her as you do, but I doubt Romelle would say anything to hurt you.” He grimaced. “Not intentionally.”

“Intentional or not, I just think she’s meddling where she’s not wanted.” The sharpness in her voice made Lance flinch.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I am sick of people acting like they know what’s best for me.” Pidge wrapped her arms around herself. It was such an uncharacteristic gesture for her that Lance wasn’t sure what to say. “I am happy. Who is she to doubt that?”

“Your friend?” he offered, keeping his voice soft.

Pidge normally handled obstacles with a bull-headedness that most feared. She and Romelle had this in common, the fierceness that had sent them travelling through the galaxies to ensure justice was made for their families. His friend couldn’t see the hypocrisy in her claim that the Altean was being meddlesome when Pidge’s own curiosity had often led her to intrude on other people’s matters.

She was a very private person and almost completely indifferent to gossip, true, but she went above and beyond for what did spark her interest.

“Romelle being my friend gives her the right to question my judgement?” Pidge sent him a fulminating look, before turning her eyes away.

“A little.” Lance chuckled to himself, despite receiving an elbow to the side for his answer. “C’mon, don’t act as if you guys didn’t question my actions after the war!”

“Aren’t our circumstances a little different?” Her voice was dry as the Arizona desert. “It’s not like I’m burying myself in work or something. I just…” She forced out a breath. “I’m satisfied with my life. I have friends and my family is safe and I’m respected in the Garrison. What more does she want from me?”

Lance just looked at her. In many ways, Pidge was right. She was still very young, despite having lived through so much, and there would be time for adventures or romance or whatever Romelle had wanted for her.

Still, the notion caused something to ache in his chest. He wanted Romelle’s words to be about him.

Since his return, many of their colleagues had insinuated that there was something more between him and Pidge, and Lance had allowed it. He loved her sincerely, but he’d spent the past year swallowing flirtatious remarks, afraid to scare her off. The rumors about them had seemed like a good way to put the idea into Pidge’s head, even as she grew more and more upset with the comments.

“She mentioned the coffeeshop because she wanted to remind me of a conversation we had when we first went there,” Pidge confessed as the silence stretched between them. “About something I wanted all those years ago.”

“What was it?” Lance frowned at her.

“Nothing that matters. I couldn’t have it then and I can’t have it now.” She didn’t look away from him, this time, and their locked gazes sent electricity down Lance’s spine. There was a heaviness in her eyes that made them look dark, even in the well-lit room.

Lance reached for her hand, pulling her arm away from her middle and onto his lap. He played with her fingers; the ribbon lied forgotten over his thigh.

“Pidgeon, I’ve never known you to give up on what you want.” He smiled at her, feeling a wave of fondness shoot through him. Her hand twisted in his grip, as if she’d meant to close it into a fist.

“I thought I was over it,” Pidge whispered, more to herself than to him.

Lance worked his jaw, hoping he hadn’t misinterpreted the look she was giving him. He could swear her eyes had lowered to his mouth for a fraction of a second. It made his whole body feel hot, like a burning star had settled in his chest and turned the blood in his veins into pure heat.

The implication was not lost in him. Had Pidge liked him back then? Had that affection survived the years of his self-imposed isolation?

“I think –” he started, eyes unable to leave her face – “that some things are worth the wait.” And then, without breaking eye contact, Lance lifted Pidge’s hand to his mouth and kissed her pulse.

The reaction was instantaneous. Color rushed up her complexion, an uneven redness that Lance had taunted her about in their younger years and that now seemed disproportionally attractive. In this bubble of heat they created, Lance felt he could see her brilliance clearer than ever.

Pidge was beautiful, not only because of how she looked, but because of who she was.

Because he was looking so closely, Lance could tell the exact moment her bewilderment dwindled. Her eyes hardened, her mouth curved down.

“Can you not?” she snapped, shaking away his grip to stand up.

“Not what?” Lance stared at her back as fear welled up inside him.

“Not stand so close. Not touch me like that.” Pidge waved her arms around as she spoke. “Not get my hopes up when I know you don’t mean it.”

“How could you possibly think I don’t mean it?” It was his turn to sound indignant.

“Because you’re loverboy Lance! You go after these bombshell women, with their long limbs and their poise…” She struggled to finish her thought, groaning. “I don’t want to be another one of your conquests!”

“Is that what you really think of me?” He felt angry at the possibility. This was Pidge, someone who should know Lance better than the average, Voltron-show-watching acquaintance. She knew he hadn’t really gone into relationships in the past few years, still healing from Allura’s death.

“I don’t know what to think.” She stopped moving, letting her arms hang at her sides. Despite the defeat in her stance, when Pidge looked at him, there was pride in how she held her chin. “I know who I am. I am intelligent and brave and reliable. But I’m not nice,” she said the word with a hint of repulse, “or patient or charming.”

“Of course I know that!” Lance had to hold back a grimace. That hadn’t come out quite right. “But you wanna know what else you are?” He didn’t wait for a response. “You’re the girl who always called me out on my bullshit. The one who has saved my ass more times than I can count, who helped me study for my piloting exams.” He lowered his tone, calming down a little. “You’re the girl who came to meet me at the farm every month to bring all the games I had missed in the US.”

Pidge still didn’t look completely convinced, but she didn’t dodge him when Lance approached.

“The releases always came out late in Varadero,” she interjected with a frown.

He laughed at her excuse. “You came because you wanted to make sure I was okay. Then, after I was done wallowing, you were the one who flew out to meet me in Greece and Korea and Chile.” He took her hand, feeling more confident. “And every time we met up, it was like my body relaxed. Ah,” he acted out, “I’m finally here. With my best friend.”

“That’s just it, Lance. I’m your friend.” Pidge studied his expression with furrowed brows. “You may be feeling – I don’t know! Moved by how close we’ve gotten?” She shook her head. “But I was in love with you for three years before I could accept that you’d only ever have eyes for Allura.”

“We’ve talked about this, Katie.” He kept his grasp on her hand, even as Pidge tried to move away. She had grown uncomfortable with his use of her name. “I did love Allura, but she’s gone. I deserve to go after what I want, too.”

“And what you want is me?” she sounded unconvinced.

“How can you be so smart and still so dense?” Lance threw his head back in frustration. “Everyone sees it. Hunk, Shiro, even Keith!” He sighed. “Even Romelle. Today, she wasn’t making fun of you or scolding you or whatever that exceptional and traumatized brain of yours came up with.” Lance had to hold up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “Romelle was trying to encourage me.”

Pidge stood there and, although she was quiet, her eyes remained sharp. Lance feared that he’d gone too far, but he knew rationally that Pidge had already exposed all she had to say and that it was up to him to erase her doubts.

He raised his unoccupied hand to cup her cheek. Pidge’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “How can you be so sure that we will be fine after this?”

Lance leaned down to press a kiss against her eyelashes, then her cheeks, then the corner of her mouth. He heard her inhale sharply and hold the breath. Feeling her reactions to him right under his palm was a kind of inebriation he’d never experienced before.

“I know,” Lance let his lips drag against her skin, “because I’ve committed myself to seeing you happy.” He put some space between them so that he could look into her eyes. The flushed vibrancy of Pidge’s complexion made an image that stupefied him. “Even if that means I turn away right now.”

Her hands snaked up his chest to rest on Lance’s neck, pulling him down. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he couldn’t resist asking, a smile tugging at his lips. Pidge rolled her eyes but didn’t push away when Lance rested his forehead against hers.

“Don’t go.” She was the one to kiss the corner of his mouth, now. “Stay.”

They met in the middle.

Lance felt her hands curl into the collar of his shirt as they kissed, her lips pushing softly against his. The touch was unbearably tender, starting a tingle that ran up and down his back. In return, he used the hand that wasn’t on her cheek to hold Pidge against him. He drew circles on the fabric of her blouse, thankful that it was fine enough to feel the give of her skin underneath.

Pidge’s lips moved slowly on his, drawing out the sensation of that first contact. It was Lance who could no longer curb his want and he licked into her mouth, once, twice, until she was chasing his tongue with her own. Pidge sighed into the kiss, dragging a hand down over his chest.

He’d had kisses before – soft and passionate and frenzied and meaningless –, but the feel of Pidge’s body against him and the affection Lance held for her had ignited a spark inside of him that spread heat all over. It was the star, back again, now that there were no more secrets between them.

His smile broke the kiss and they parted, panting.

“So…” Lance let both of his hands rest on her waist. The smugness that grew within him must have shown in his expression, because Pidge looked immediately on guard. “When did you fall for me?” He traced a line down her back with his thumb. “I’m pretty sure I heard something about liking me for three years.”

Pidge pushed at his chest, walking him backwards. “Not telling.”

“Can’t I convince you?” He was trying to go for seductive, but the girl merely laughed.

“Don’t you have more pressing matters to focus on?” She continued to move them until Lance’s legs hit the edge of the bed. He blinked down at her.

“Think you can distract me?” He shot her a smirk. Despite the more sensual undertone it carried, challenges weren’t new between them. It comforted Lance that their dynamics had adjusted so easily to this new aspect of their relationship.

Pidge gave a final push, making him sit down on the bed. He had to brace himself against the mattress.

“I’m sure I can think of something,” she said, sarcasm thick on her voice. And then she climbed into Lance’s lap, a knee on each side of his thighs.

He felt his throat go dry and swallowed instinctively. The new position put her mouth just a little higher than his, making Lance tilt his head back to capture her lips.

“You know…” His voice came out strangled. “I always did like the way you think.”

When Pidge leaned over him, the feel of her hips lowering on his almost made him choke. A more conscious part of his brain was not surprised by her boldness, but it did nothing to calm his stammering heart.

“Just shut up, loverboy,” she muttered against his lips, even as their smiles made it difficult to really get into the kiss. Laughter bubbled up in him and Lance continued to kiss Pidge as her own giggles erupted. There was joy in her mouth and in his chest and in every point of contact between them.

--

“Oh, I’d forgotten about this.” Lance picked up the green piece of fabric that peaked out from behind a metal plaque.

Pidge glanced up at him, but her attention quickly shifted back to the code she’d been working on.

“Mom left a bunch of books for Romelle here. I think that’s where the ribbons are coming from.”

Lance smiled. He loved how casually they’d fallen into their relationship. As a young boy, he’d fantasized about girlfriends who fawned over him and his accomplishments, but, after so many years as an intergalactic authority, he had learned to appreciate how domestic they had become.

On moments like this, when it was just the two of them behind a closed door, each preoccupied with their own responsibilities, it was their friendship that he valued the most.

“They’re cute,” he exclaimed happily.

Pidge gave him a look of suspicion. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m serious!” Lance squirmed on the bed until he sidled up to her. “My first love also liked ribbons. It’s one of the things I remember the most about her, the green ribbon in her hair.”

“Are you comparing me to your first girlfriend?” Pidge sounded completely done with him and Lance couldn’t really blame her. “Even I know that’s a no-no in a relationship.”

“I’m not comparing anything!” He waved his hands defensively.

Pidge knocked their shoulders together in teasing. They’d only been together for two weeks, but Lance doubted he would ever see her truly jealous, not due to his mindless chatter at least. She and Hunk had told him that Pidge had shown signs of jealousy during their time in the Castle, but Lance couldn’t recall them for the life of him.

It was endlessly frustrating.

“You’re lucky I like you.” Pidge lifted his arm and put it around her, burying into Lance’s side.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” He ran his fingers up and down her skin, feeling the goosebumps that formed at his touch. “Fate was kind when it put you in my life.”

Lance dipped down to nibble at her ear, then trailed kisses over the column of her neck. Pidge giggled in his arms, ticklish and embarrassed at her reactions.

“Down, boy.” She pressed a finger to his nose, pushing him back a bit. He pouted at her, trying to entice Pidge into another kiss. “Are you gonna be this tacky every time I say something sarcastic?”

“For as long as you keep finding it attractive,” he retorted. Lance knew he was being conceited, but he couldn’t help it. There was no ego-boost quite like the sounds his girlfriend made when she was underneath him in one of their beds, mouths and hands fervent in their paths.

In a quick movement, he’d captured the tip of her finger between his teeth, biting playfully. It sent Pidge into a bout of laughter, which had her pushing Lance’s face away as he continued to pepper kisses on her palms, her arms, anywhere he could reach.

“You’re so freaking silly, sometimes!” Pidge draped her legs across his, locking him in place. “Why are you trying to catch my attention, anyway?”

Lance leaned back against the headboard, putting his hands on her calves. She was still in her pajamas; an oversized t-shirt and blue shorts that reached mid-thigh. It was more skin than Pidge normally showed, just another sign of how comfortable she was with him.

“I’m a little bored.” He scrunched up his nose, knowing that wasn’t a reason Pidge would accept. She tried to kick him on the arm, but Lance held on. “Hey! I’m done with the flight plans and you’ve been on your laptop since I got here! I’ve been good!”

“You just tried to make out with me,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I was being good and now I want attention,” Lance corrected shamelessly.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him, but closed her laptop and settled it next to them on the bed. She scooted a bit closer, until she was sitting on Lance’s lap with her arms around his neck.

“So quiet,” she taunted. One of her nails scraped just underneath his ear, making Lance groan. “And sensitive.”

“You’re a little devil.” He dropped his head on her shoulder.

“I finally found a way to shut you up.” Pidge’s carefree laughter rang right in his ear. Since their days as students, it never failed to bring him a sense of accomplishment. No one could distract Pidge quite like him. “I’ll use it how I see fit.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his nape.

Disgruntled, Lance straightened his posture and caught her lips more firmly, tracing the roof of her mouth with his tongue. Pidge responded with no hesitance and her hands dug into his shoulders to hold him in.

Despite the ease with which they fit, this was as far as Lance had tried to go. Kisses and small touches and gasps that left his entire body burning. Although Pidge had gone on a few dates while he was away, Lance was achingly aware that she was still somewhat inexperienced.

More than that, he knew two weeks could not erase insecurities that were born from years watching him flirt with other girls. He felt ashamed of how crass he might have been in front of Pidge, but he had been young and stupid and copying behaviors from men he’d once admired.

He was thankful for his teammates. Lance knew he was a better man for having known Shiro’s integrity and Hunk’s warmth and Keith’s honesty. Coran had shown him there was pride in being genuine. Allura had taught him about the reality of love. Most of all, he was thankful for Pidge and how she’d kept him in line.

They parted slowly, and Lance surged forward one last time to give a peck to Pidge’s lips. She smiled in amusement.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” She ran her fingers through his hair. “We don’t have to be at Shiro’s until dinner.”

Lance checked his watch. They still had a few hours, but he wanted to get something to eat before then. He’d come into Pidge’s room at noon to find she had just woken up, and his girlfriend had refused to go out before she made some progress on a program for Chip. She’d devoured a bag of chips while she worked, but that was not real food.

“We should grab a late lunch somewhere.” Lance disentangled himself from Pidge, much to her discontentment. “And then I need to get you some fruit or granola bars or something for this room.”

“If I need anything, I usually go to the cafeteria or one of the vending machines.” She shrugged, but accepted the hand Lance offered to pull her up.

“And you have the audacity to question my eating habits.” He sent her a sidelong glare.

“You might be able to cook, but it doesn’t count when the only thing you actually prepare is pasta.” Pidge continued to rifle through the clothes on the floor. Then, not finding anything she wanted, she moved to the wardrobe. “Before entering your pantry, I had only ever seen so much tomato sauce on supermarket shelves.”

Lance wanted to defend himself, but Pidge chose this moment to take the edge of her t-shirt and pull it out. It left her in only a bra and shorts, a sight that Lance couldn’t look away from. Her breasts were small but proportional to her petite frame and her skin was even fairer over her chest, ribs and stomach. The overall effect had Lance choking on air.

Pidge laughed as she pulled a dress over her head.

“That was on purpose!” Lance accused, once he’d found his voice.

“You wouldn’t take off my shirt yesterday, so I thought I would give you a taste, then leave you hanging. See how you like it.” She went to look herself over in the bathroom mirror.

“I was being a gentleman!” He puffed out his cheeks. Pidge loved to make things difficult for him, didn’t she?

“Lance, I love you.” She momentarily turned away from her reflection to look at him. “I have trusted you with my life and my heart. Do you really think I don’t trust you with my body?”

When Pidge said things like that, it always sounded completely logical, but relationships weren’t something one could rationalize their way through.

Lance went to stand behind her, resting his hands on the line where her grey dress flared out. Pidge looked very sensible and very beautiful in the high neckline, with how it left her arms exposed.

“I think I want you to believe how much I love you,” he answered, turning her around, “before we do anything you haven’t done yet.”

Her amber eyes were narrowed as she looked at him, but Lance didn’t back down. She eventually heaved a sigh and he could tell he’d won the argument.

“I can’t believe I’m dating a sap.”

“Hey, you knew who I was before!” Lance let her walk past him and back to the bed. “You signed up for this, Pidgeon!”

“Are you ready to go?” She pulled on her sneakers, glaring at him half-heartedly. At her side, Lance caught sight of the green ribbon again.

“Sure, but I think you’re missing something.” At Pidge’s look of confusion, he marched up to her and picked up the ribbon, waving it in the air.

“Really?” she deadpanned at him.

Lance chuckled, already gathering her hair with the fabric. “I just want to see how it looks.” He tied a bow on top of Pidge’s head, snickering. “That really is adorable.”

She frowned up at him and raised a hand to feel what he’d done, then groaned.

“That’s not how I used to wear it!” Pidge protested, already fumbling with the style until the fabric slipped down her short hair.

“Show me, then.” Lance propped his chin on his hand.

Pidge huffed, but laid the ribbon across her hair like a headband, tying a knot on one side and letting the excess fabric hang loose. “There!” she stated with a flourish. “Much less childish.”

“Huh.” Lance stared at her in puzzlement. “That’s… Huh.”

“Does it look that bad?” She patted at her hair. “I haven’t done this since I was thirteen.”

“No!” His answer was hurried. “It just… looks exactly how Italian girl wore it.”

Pidge blinked at him. “Italian girl?”

“My first love. I think I told you about her.” He couldn’t really shake the familiarity of the green ribbon against her reddish-brown hair. “We met in this Space Camp I went to in Miami. Ronie had a research position there and she dragged me along.”

“You’re talking about the Bouman Aeronautics Research Institute.”

Now it was just getting freaky. Pidge, too, looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Yeah…” Lance scratched the back of his neck. “How do you know that?”

“Because my father was a lecturer and Matt was also in the research program.” She sounded just as bewildered as he was. “You’re Spanish boy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment. Now that they were talking about it, Lance could see the similarities that he’d missed so far. It was no wonder he’d always liked Pidge’s eyes; he could still remember how they shone in the sunlight.

“Are you actually Italian girl?” He sat down, still in shock.

“I cannot believe that we’ve known each other this whole time.” Pidge threw her head back, laughing. He soon joined her. The situation was just ridiculous.

“And you didn’t want me to believe in fate.” Lance grinned at her. Pidge still wore the green ribbon in her hair and the color contrasted nicely against her features. Maybe it was because he still remembered how she had been as Italian girl, but the image made him feel unexpectedly soft.

“Oh good grief,” she exclaimed suddenly, eyes wide, “I’m the reason you believe in fate!” He burst out laughing again while Pidge swatted at his arm. “It’s not funny! It’s actually awful!”

“Well,” Lance said once he was able to control himself, “at least you can stop thinking you’re not my type. I fell for you twice!”

“You fell for a pretty girl in a dress that you met when you were a child.” Pidge snorted, standing up to grab her purse. Lance clutched her hand with gentle fingers and stopped her from turning away.

“I fell for a smart girl who helped me realize my worth. Twice.” He winked. “Though it certainly didn’t hurt that she was pretty.”

Pidge shook her head disapprovingly, but still leaned down to kiss him, lips moving in a tempting pace against his. When she pulled back, Lance tried to follow.

He felt dazed by their discovery, but not completely blind-sighted. Pidge had always intrigued him, even right at the start. It had taken time for Lance to recognize the feelings he developed for her, like it had with Italian girl, and then he was already in the middle of it, too into her to stop himself from acting stupid.

It might have been the quintessence stored in him or just wishful thinking, but he thought Allura, too, would be cheering for them.

Pidge pulled at his hand until Lance stood up. She looked a bit red, a bit breathless.

“We’ll finish this later, you Casanova.” And she sealed the promise with another kiss.

[mattzerella-sticks]

metamorphosis (ao3)

What if, when Jack was born, he stayed a baby?

A retelling of season 13, with a few key differences.

No planned schedule, will update when I finish chapters lol

Prologue - Mary I

THEN

           Mary stared out the cab window at hers and John’s home, at the bare branches of their tree reaching towards the sky and at their lawn mower abandoned underneath it, guts scattered about in disrepair. Her heart stirred, suddenly; Mary’s breath shortening as the vice around her chest tightened. She squeezed the handle, frozen in her seat and reticent to depart the safety of this yellowed rust bucket. Instinct, strangely, kicked in; Mary’s gut rumbled like some emergency siren, begging her to run to safety, run and never look back.

           “Hey, girlie,” a gruff voice startled Mary from her reverie, it belonging to the cabbie behind the wheel, “You leavin’ or what?” He tapped one cigarette-stained finger on the meter, fare ticking ever-upward.

           She chewed the gloss off her lips watching it ascend inch by inch, nearing an even twenty. It was an affordable sixteen dollars when they arrived. The cabbie cleared his throat again. Mary finally tore her eyes from the fare to meet his cloudy grey glare in the rearview mirror. He repeated his question. Mary didn’t have an answer for him, not yet.

           There was the obvious answer. Mary could dig inside her duffle, pay him, and leave without another word. But what kept her in his cab, kept the fare running higher and higher, was this selfish urge she fought against. The urge to tell him ‘no’, to keep driving, to not stop driving until Mary spent every dollar she won from hustling pool the night before.

           And she hated that. She hated him. Mary hated how she ditched a perfectly fine, albeit stolen, Oldsmobile at the edge of town for his cab that reeked of tobacco and stale booze. She absolutely loathed how he spent the entire drive lobbing innuendo her way even though every attempt was met with a polite smile and forced chuckle instead of the end point of her hidden boot-knife. She chafed at the thought of asking him for further help. Most of all, Mary despised how if she gave in, if she breathed life into her desires, this cabbie wouldn’t be any wiser to the huge decision she made. He wouldn’t judge her. He would not care. The burden of leaving, of making that choice, rested entirely on her.

           It felt humiliating.

           “Seriously, blondie, is it just air between those ears or –“?

           “I’m leaving.” She handed over what was owed, not bothering to wait for any change. She hurled herself out of the cab, slamming the door shut in her wake. Mary lingered on the sidewalk, white knuckling her duffle, while the cab drove off. The fumes, toxic and tantalizing, tickled her nose. She stayed firm, refusing to look behind her as it left. Mary knew that, in doing so, her resolve would crumble like Lot’s wife in the breeze.

            She was forged of hardier stuff than her.

           Mary began marching, each step bringing her closer to that other version of herself. Each step, and she shed another layer of who she was to become who she needed to be, what she chose. The guts of her being stripped bare like the lawnmower John left in their yard, a shell of what remained unlocking the door with the key in her pocket.

           There’s no fanfare announcing her return. Their house was silent save for the low hum of the television. Mary followed it, dropping her duffel at the foot of the stairs. She found John, alone, in the living room, asleep with stains on his shirt and a beer can in his hands. The corpses of three other cans were strewn about his feet, their lives given at some earlier time when the game on the screen actually held his interest. Mary grabbed the remote on his thigh, John snuffling slightly. He didn’t wake. He stayed sleeping even when Mary flicked the television off and didn’t stir when she collected the empty cans. Mary carried them into the kitchen, leaving them by the crowded sink, stacked high with dirty pans and plates.

           It was empty last she remembered, three days ago.

           “Dammit John…” Mary reached for the dish soap, pausing midway. Her hand hovered over it briefly. She dropped her hand to her side, skipping the chore for the moment. Mary exited the kitchen, another destination in mind.

           Urged onward by a sudden migraine, caught in its early stages where the pain was annoying but bearable, Mary climbed the stairs for her room. She saw it there, her bed visible because John left the door open. It looked deliciously inviting, Mary imagining the soft blankets wrapped around her shoulders, not John’s, not like they always were, as she sank into unconsciousness strewn across the entire mattress instead of the small sliver that John left for her whenever she finished cleaning their messes in the twilight hours of night. Within seconds, she wouldn’t have to imagine what that might feel like.

           That imagination would be her reality.

           On her journey to the bed, however, Mary heard a tiny sniffle; then a second, followed by a large hitch of breath – all coming from Dean’s room.

           She hesitated, glancing between her room and her son’s. Mary stared at the former, soul yearning for nothing more than rest. But when Dean sobbed, an awful keen that pushed the other option out of her mind, she knew where to go. She sighed, shuffling in the direction of her crying son.

           Mary slowly opened his door, a sliver of light breaking through the depressing darkness blanketing his space. The lights were off, and his curtains were drawn shut. She reached inside to flick on the overhead.

           Dean startled immediately, hiccupping in fright. Wide, bloodshot green eyes met her worn hazel, silent conversation interrupted only when Dean rubbed his fists at them to brush away any lingering tears. “Mommy,” he whimpered, the word bruising her already purpled rib cage, “you’re home…?”

           She smiled, fully entering the room. “Yes, baby, I’m home.” Mary leaned all her weight on the doorknob, shifting on her feet. “Why are you in here all alone?”

           Dean shrugged, looking down at the doll in his hands. He swung its arm back and forth, dragging the silence out. Mary waited. She waited, even though her eyelids began to droop. She waited despite the tiny voice whispering in her ear about how sweet it’d be to lay down. She waited, stayed until he was ready. Dean’s lib wobbled, silently mouthing his thoughts. Soon enough, he set the doll aside. “Dad tol’ me to.”

           “He did?”

           “Said I was bein’… loud.” Another sob racked his small frame, Dean shuddering to contain it. “I coul’… I tried not bein’ loud. But I – but I didn’t see the twisty-thingy twist, and when he open-ed it I, I was there, and it hurt. It hurt!” Tears poured freely from him like the tap water at the motel Mary camped in last night, thick and gross and disgusting. She couldn’t stand tears, or criers.

           Though Mary hid her disgust well, covering an instinctive grimace with a heavy cough. She had to.

           “Oh baby,” Mary cooed, lowering herself onto the floor. Her knees protested, the cut from a stray claw on her left calf flaring from the strain. She swallowed her pain, then beckoned Dean close so she could do the same for him. Dean crawled into her arms, wrapping sticky fingers around her neck while burying his face into her chest. “How long have you been up here?.”

           “A while,” Dean muttered, drooling and crying onto her shirt. She felt his warm breath dampening her shirt, the fabric clinging to her skin. “He said if I were good that he’d lemme out but he… I’ve been quiet s’long, an’ he never came.” Dean gasps, burrowing deeper into her. “Di’ he forget about me?”

           Mary clung tighter to her son, remembering how she found her husband. John, soundly sleeping in his chair, drunk, while their son suffered in his room. She trusted him for one weekend. He promised her it would be fine, that everything would be fine. This wasn’t the first time her faith in him had been misplaced. The disappointment never lessened. Will she learn this time? “I’m sorry, Dean,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Mary pressed a kiss to his crown. “I wish I could have brought you with me.”

           She hadn’t meant that.

           Where she went, Dean couldn’t follow. It was a promise she made after the first hunt, after falling into bad habits again. These trips were hers. Outlets for her aggression. Measured doses to feed her addiction. Reminders of why she left that life, why she chose a picket fence that kept those shadows at bay, why she never wanted her new family to know what she really was.

           Dean shined too brightly for that dark hell. Monsters and ghosts and demons would shatter this innocent child into irreparable pieces, ruining him like it’s ruined every Campbell before him, like it ruined her.

           It was depressing to accept, but denial became maddening. Pretending drained Mary of her strength. Repeating lies, staring down her reflection with mantras that one day she’d not judge herself like an impostor, or an outsider, or a fraud, ate at her soul. Motherhood was not what she imagined. Motherhood did not come naturally to her. Motherhood proved to not be the escape she hoped.

           On those days where she felt low, like nothing she did was right, hunting reminded Mary that she was not just a mother.

           But that’s who Mary was to the little boy in her arms. That’s all she was.

           “Mommy,” Dean whimpered, calmer now that he spilled his tears into Mary’s embrace, “Mommy… can I haf’ food now?”

           “What?”

           “I’m hungry,” he whined, tugging on her hair, “Please! I hadn’t eated since Daddy left for his juice!”

           Mary looked down at Dean, her little boy. She watched his eyes shyly poke through his lashes and past oily, sandy bangs; how his fists curled tighter around her golden waves. Her own hands twitched with the dreadful urge to shove Dean off of her and tell him to make his own food. A scream echoed in her throat, trapped, that she was more than that. She was more than Dean’s mother. She was more than John’s wife. A fighter’s blood pumped through her veins and a soldier’s head sat atop her shoulders and it was a killer’s hands this clueless boy asked to prepare his food.

           While that storm whipped inside of Mary, she hardly let it show. Mary fought against her initial reaction, instead scooping Dean into a loose hold. “I’m kind of hungry, too,” she lied, “dinner sounds wonderful.”

           There was more to Mary than motherhood, except those other pieces of herself grew smaller as motherhood, in its frenzy, consumed them bit by bit. It was determined to be the dominant aspect in her life, the sole expression of Mary’s identity. Motherhood was a monster impossible to slay. Worse, it was a monster of her own making, in her own visage. It was much of her as all the others, conceived at the exact moment Dean was.

           But Mary wondered, if this beast that she became, that worked to destroy everything that came before it, had always lived inside of her, biding its time. That there was never an option of being anything else besides a mother.

           Running seemed pointless, then. Hunting delayed the inevitable.

           She stood in front of the stove, a pot of tomato soup simmering over a low flame. Mary watched the fire burn, hotter and hotter as she spun the dial further towards the highest setting. The tomato soup boiled, bubbles bursting and spewing tomato gunk everywhere. Some landed on her hand. Soup scalded her skin, though could not compare to the inferno tearing apart her being.

           Fire burnt away all that ugly, the darkness Mary was mired in since birth. Blistering heat will make her into the perfect mother. Motherhood was a monster of its own design, unslayable, that demanded suffering and sacrifice.

           I chose this, she mouthed to herself, I did.

NOW

           Mary stumbled out of the memory-dream, slowly at first, then thrown into consciousness by a calloused hand. She yawned, stretching, agitating the knot in her lower back. “Yeah?”

           Bobby offered her his gun, gaze darting to the smoldering embers of their campfire. It didn’t add light, or warmth, but it seemed appropriate when Mary broached the topic of stopping for the night. “Your turn.”

           She nodded, hauling herself off the fallen log she slept against. Bobby dropped in response, taking her station. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to head out. Sweet dreams.”

           “Unlikely.” He twisted, rolling away from her and onto his side. Mary shouldered the rifle, looking from him to the others around the fire.

           Crowley, in his dirty, wrecked suit, sullenly poked the kindling with a knife Bobby must have given him. He hadn’t moved since Mary closed her eyes; however, he appeared more disgruntled than she remembered. An agonized expression carved into his soot-covered face. She might hazard a guess on what caused it, attention flitting from him to the last member of their party.

           Lucifer studied Mary from his own perch. She didn’t know how long he watched, her skin prickling with that feeling of a thousand stares tracking her every move since she crossed over into this other dimension, the apocalypse world. He raised his hands, shackled by a pair of handcuffs that Mary smuggled in with her. He winked, then blows her a kiss.

           Mary spun on her heel, advancing to an outcropping perfect for scouting and a good distance away from the devil’s cold, calculating glare. Her grip on Bobby’s gun tightened. She thought of her boys, of Dean and Sam. How gutted they must be because of her decision, of her sacrifice.

           If only they knew she had no choice. Motherhood demanded it, craved such violence. It was the only aspect of that beast she understood.

[jay-and-dean]

Become That Girl  Part 1/2

Dean x reader

Summary : Y/n never was his type. She is the buddy type ; sexy and glamorous are just not her. It’s time to try to change that... To change everything about herself. And maybe, just maybe, this flirty smile will be for her next time...

Warning : Swearing. Suffering and mentions of unhealthy behaviors. Smut. Unprotected sex (you’re smarter than this). Kinda rough sex. ANGST.

Words : 7.7 k

Author note : This was supposed to be a one shot, but there will be a part 2. I will publish it this week (tuesday I hope).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

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            Dean's hand brushes that girl's palm and those adorable wrinkles appear on his eyes for her, he gives her these sweet eyes I saw only in these circumstances; his head slightly bending on the side. His flirty smile.

"It's ridiculous" I grunt, taking a sip of my beer.

"Yeah" Sam chuckles.

But I struggle to swallow. The truth is I would give my life, my soul and everything else for Dean Winchester looking at me like this just once. For him to touch my hand that way. For whatever is to come with that girl. The idea of him sinking inside her is like a stab in my chest, but I'm used to that pain.

           I know I will never taste his lips, because I'm not that girl, not even close.

           I'm the kind of girl guys love because they can be themselves with her, I'm the buddy type. And along the way, I became Dean Winchester's friend. He gives me drinks and teases me all the time on my tastes in music, on my tastes in food, in men... If only he knew.

           It was quick for me to fall in love with him. I have never been in love before, not for real ; so I didn't really know what was happening to me at first. I never was the kind of girl that forces to laugh at men's joke, that wear pink or try to look like society wants women to be. I never faked a smile, but Dean, he makes me giggle like an idiot, and everything he says actually interests me. I'm fascinated by him.

           He's beautiful, but that's not even what I like the most about him. It's like I just could read him, his soul, the way he hides pain, the way his humor is way darker than people think, that incredible ability he has to be himself, that fake harshness and the size of his noble heart...

           He bends to catch the girl's lips and I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back the whine of pain coming up my spine.

           My stomach contracts at how empty I feel and I look down at my hands. That void I feel each time I come to the full conscience that I will never feel him on and inside me, it hurts way too much. It’s beyond craving, it’s like a part of me was missing.

"Are you okay ?" Sam asks, probably reading the sorrow on my face.

"Of course" I state. "I'm just tired, that hunt was a bitch."

           I want to drink too much, drown my stupid brain in fucking alcohol. The puking and hangover are way better than being able to imagine him with her, his hands on her hair, his tongue around her nipples...

           I get up and go to the bar, avoiding to get too close to Dean and her, I don't need to know her smell or voice, my brain would turn it into torture.

"Whiskey please, leave the bottle" I tell the bartender.

He doesn't look at me when he hands me the bottle, not even checking my age or my eyes. He is looking at Dean's conquest and that desire, almost envy, on his face catches my attention despite my will not to look at her.

           Taking the bottle, I glance at that woman everyone seems to admire. Dean's back is toward me so I can see half her face, behind his silhouette. She's pretty. A wide smile on her face, bright eyes, sulky hair and makeup ; she doesn't have scars, or bruises like me and her only wrinkles are just highlighting her smile, like she had never worried or frown.

           I pour whisky in my own glass and empty it, then do it again. I go back to my table to join Sam, my empty glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, it didn't even pay, but when the bartender will be back on Earth, maybe he'll ask me. Meanwhile, fuck him.

"I'm not holding your hair tonight Y/n" Sam sighs.

"Yeah... don't worry Sammy" I shrug.

 ***

           "Oh... fuck…" I grunt opening my eyes. "Oh ! Fuck !" I gasp before I run to the toilets to empty my stomach in the bowl.

Sam pushes the door and rubs his eyes.

"Y/n ?"

"Shut up..." I whine, pushing my hair out of my sweaty face.

I flush the toilets and get up stumbling, I start undressing, knowing Sammy will just not watch, and he turns his back on me to pee. When I enter the shower, I grunt at the warm water.

"Coffee ?" he asks.

"Yes please, with aspirin in it... What is that ?" I look at my very sore hand and see it's all purple and blue. "Sammy why is my hand all bruised ?"

He chuckles and when he washes his hands the water of the shower suddenly becomes cold for a minute.

"A guy called you babydoll and touched your ass" I hear the smile in his voice. "You broke his face before I could move."

Shit... I bet if someone had done that to Dean's pretty girl, she would have needed a prince in shining armor. Me, I just break faces. I grunt and put my head on the tiles, I'm just not a lady, maybe that's why Dean doesn't want me, even for a quick fuck...

           I'm in my jeans and bra when Sam comes back with coffee. He gives it to me and hands me aspirin. He slept in my motel room, that means Dean brought his girl in theirs. I frown and grunt, my eyes still barely open. Sam offers me an amused dimple smile.

"When you're around, it's like having another Dean" he mocks.

My heart breaks.

           I know it was not meant to be mean and being anything like Dean can only be a good think but... Am I really so far from being a girly girl ?

           I get up and take my clothes, my too long and worn out Led Zeppelin t-shirt and black rangers. I sigh. Yeah well maybe I don't dress like a princess too... Fuck !

           The door opens and Dean enters the room with cups of coffee in his hands. Each time that man comes near, something happens, like the colors were brighter, like my blood was warmer… He turns to me and raises his eyebrows, probably seeing what a mess I am, my wet hair all messy, the cuts and bruises on my arms, face and hands.

"You look like shit" he says and a new kind of stab hits my gut. "What did you do last night ? Did you see someone ?"

"Haha ! She met a guy !" Sam mocks and I grunt.

"Really ?" Dean frowns like it was beyond surprising.

"She may have broken his jaw" Sam chuckles and Dean comes closer.

"Did you fight again ?" he sighs, taking my hand to check on it.

He still smells like this girl’s perfume and I'm nauseous. I take my fingers back and show him I can move them fine with an annoyed look. Then I take the coffee of his hand and thank him.

"Hey !" he calls me when I'm about to take my bag to leave.

So I turn around and put a light kiss on his cheek like I do every morning, making him smile like a child. I stare for a little too long at his proud face and walk pass him.

           In the car I take my shoes off to put my feet on the backseat, Dean is mumbling the Metallica song, his beautiful strong fingers dancing on the rhythm against the wheel. And before I can look away, I have this vision of him sinking this amazing middle finger inside her core.

Shit... I'm nauseous again.

I guess in this world of blood and violence, coming deep inside a soft sweet angel-like princess must be a relief. I can’t enjoy one night stands anymore, but he can, good for him. It's not his fault if sex makes me feel dirty since I know him, like I was cheating...

           Stupid.

I just wish it would happen to me once... Having him. I know how dumb this sounds because I'd probably be dead with grief once he turns to a better girl again, but I would give anything to spend a night with him. I have to stop dreaming, he doesn't even see me as a woman.

           I frown and put my head back on the window.

"Hey Y/n ?" he says, looking at me in the rear-view mirror. "Now the hunt is over, we finally have a little time together. We could do our horror movies marathon ? I can't wait to see your face when we wa..."

"You're the one hiding against me Winchester" I state with my usual a mocking grin.

It's not even a lie and he rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam who's still listening to some conference in his headphone.

"I just can't wait to eat all those candies we hid in your room, without Sam lecturing us" he smiles with his teeth showing and my heart melts.

           What if I tried...

What if I tried to be the kind of girls he likes ? I mean, I'm nothing special but with a little efforts I could at least become a girl in his eyes... Would he still be able to just stuff his mouth with sugar when he's so close to me in my bed, if he saw me as a real lady ?

           I look down at myself and sigh. I will have to change absolutely everything... But maybe this could work.

 ***

           It's only been a few hours since we got back, Dean went to take a shower and Sam went running, which doesn’t make fucking sense after a hunt so rough.

Taking a huge bite of that big double chocolate brownie, I stare at my laptop, watching stupid videos of makeover, style, makeup and how to do your hair ; and if I wasn't thinking of if Dean would like this thing or not... I would probably have died of boredom already.

           I should try to work on my attitude too. Swear less, sit straighter, be less loud, spontaneous, stop saying when I need to pee, drink less and try those stupid sweet cocktails when I do, let men defend me. I don't get to skip wax day anymore, I have to look sexy or eventually childishly cute, but not at all like I do right now. Boy !Being a “girl” is no fun at all.

           I look at the Pinterest and Instagram pictures of those pretty girls and put my brownie down watching my belly, a diet wouldn't hurt either.

           A knock on my door, Dean enters with a cute smile, his hair still wet. I close my laptop and throw the brownie in the trash, sitting straighter already, I pull my stomach slightly in.

"I bought beer" he says and sits on my bed, opening one for me but I shake my head. "Still too hangover ?" he asks and I nod.

           During the whole movie, I try to watch my attitude, not spreading my legs to put bowls of candies between them, not making fun of him when he jumps. And when he falls asleep beside me, I just stare at him thinking of how many things I would sacrifice for him. I dare touching his hair and leans to my touch, coming closer in his sleep. I want more.

I need more.

 ***

           I barely slept tonight, half stressed, half exited by my project.

As usual, Dean left in the middle of the night, kissing my forehead to say goodnight. I get up, eat fruits and shit instead of cereals and go running, drinking water, more water than what I usually drink in a week. I read coffee makes teeth become yellow and gives shadows under the eyes, so I will stop it too.

When I take my car to go fucking shopping -I always hated shopping-, I try my best to smile, looking on the mirrors of the car. Sweet and open Y/n...

           I manage to hold back my middle finger when a jerk takes the parking lot I wanted. I'm hungry but my body needs to learn to shut up. If I want Dean Winchester to consider kissing me, I have to be perfect. There is no compromise.

I try clothes and I feel like I'm wearing a costume, with those bruises and all, it's stupid anyway. So I decide to go one step at a time. I'll wear normal size shirts instead of oversized and a nice jacket first, I'm not ready for dresses or too colorful for now.

           I buy lace panties and push up bras then decide to throw away my other underwear to make sure I wear them, because they're so uncomfortable I will be tempted to go back... I keep drinking water when I buy makeup and nail polish, trying my best to both pull my stomach in and ignore the heavy perfume smell and the employees trying to sell me way too many things. I need girly shampoo and all, because I usually just use Dean's.

           Then I lock myself in my room for hours, fighting with my body, waxing with incredible care, putting sticky things on my hair to make them shiny, cream on my skin to make it soft, mascara to make my eyes bigger… I even pierce my own ears.

           But the more I try, the more I feel ugly. I always tied my hair in buns-easier to fight, run and look like an FBI agent- but now it’s down, and I look at these models,it seems dull… Same for every inch of my body. Why do girls do that to themselves ! Or maybe I’m the one that is a problem, maybe I’m just disgusting and avoided to see it for years. No wonder why Dean never looked at me.

           I stare at myself and sigh. Fuck. Even doing all that, there is about zero chance Dean would ever want me one day, even just for a night. It’s going to hurt way more than hunger and wax, but I have to go further, I have to pay attention when he’s with a woman…

 ***

             “MOTHERFUCKING BITCH !” I yell throwing the stupid scale against the wall.

It’s been three months and I haven’t lost a pound. I’m hungry all the time, from morning to the next morning, it’s even waking me at night. I only eat salad and drink water… I mean, my hands are shaking for Christ sake !

           Three months of trying so hard to act like a sweet fragile angel with a weakness for sin : cute and sexy. But I’m still swearing like a sailor when I don’t pay attention and I’m still fat. Hunts are becoming more difficult because I’m weak, and fun times with my friends are more rare, because they only do what I can’t : drink beers, eat burgers, make fun of horror movies, play whiskey poker… I used to love whiskey poker so much ; the night Dean invented it, we were beyond drunk but it was one of my best memories, he ended cutting my hair and it was bad, but I didn’t care at all.

“Are you okay ?” Sam says, opening the door but I close it brutally.

“Sam ! I’m a girl you know ! You and your brother can’t just enter the bathroom when I’m in it !” I yell through the door, hurt that they keep treating me as if I was the third Winchester brother, and worried they would see my ugly fat body...

“Sorry Y/n, I didn’t know you were naked” he states.

“Naked or not, Sam !”

“What’s the problem ?” I hear Dean ask his brother, and put my head on the door.

“She’s just grumpy again…” Sam sighs and I frown.

I do argue with them more often… I didn’t noticed that.

“Sweetheart ?” Dean calls though the door and tries to push it.

“Are you serious !” I cry out pushing the door. “Stop forgetting I’m a girl, you don’t get free access on the bathroom when I’m in it !”

“Okay” Dean just says and he leaves.

           I never forbid them to enter, and I have great memories of watching Dean brushing his teeth while I dried my hair, of his intimacy only hidden by a white towel around his waist while I joined him in the hot steam his shower made to talk about anything.

           My Dean and I used to be awesome… But in a buddy way. I feel tears fill my eyes but try to hold them back because I really don’t want to do my makeup again. I caught him staring at my cleavage yesterday, and he said lipstick suited me last week. I have to be strong, if Dean gives me that flirty eyes, I would be worth it.

           But we don’t talk that much either and… I really miss him in every way, I miss my friend and I feel lost and lonely. The sadness these thoughts bring, mixed with the exhaustion of hunger, and the pain of that unrequited love finally makes me fully burst in tears. My hand on my mouth I muffle the sounds of my sobs, realizing I will never have him, and probably fucked up the only good thing I had : That pure and loving friendship with the Winchesters.

 ***

             I take a bite of my salad and hold back a gag. Not that I don’t like salad, but eating only that is becoming really sickening. Dean looks at me and there is no kind expression on his face, that tender smile I used to see everyday faded along the weeks.

“Take a bite” he says, handing me his burger, cheese dripping on his fingers.

“What ? No…” I shrug. “I’m not super hungry.”

I’m not an idiot, at least not completely : I knew my best friends would notice a change in my behavior. I mean, Dean seeing a change is the all point, but I don’t want to look like I’m trying so hard. So lately I’ve been putting empty pizza boxes on the table from time to time. And my outfits were replaced slowly…

           But they’re not idiots either.

“I just want to check something” he says.

I can’t, after all these efforts, if I bite in that thing, I will become even fatter than I am, I can’t afford that…

“I don’t want to, Dean.”

“I made it myself” he insists, practically putting the food on my lips and the smell is becoming too tempting.

“Dean ! No ! I’m sure it’s delicious because your homemade burgers are always a success but it’s a no !” I push him wiping the ketchup that fell on my shirt. “What is wrong with you…”

“What is wrong with me !” his harsh tone surprises me. “I’m super worried, that’s what is wrong ! Do you have eating disorder now or something ?”

“What ? No ! Of course not, you know me !”

“Yeah… Do I ?” he asks before getting up, leaving his plate barely touched in front of me.

“Dean ?” I call but too low, he can’t hear me…

 ***

           I didn’t come out of my room. Not once, since Dean looked at me that way, a sad way, like I had betrayed him or something, just because of a burger…

           Who am I kidding ? It’s not because of a burger, my best friend just doesn’t recognize me. I can’t be that girl, I’m just not enough. Curling in my bed, I take a deep shaky breath, I’m really tired of crying so I just stare at the wall, thinking about what Dean must think of me. He must be disappointed, and that’s the worst I can imagine. Dean, my Dean, thinking low of me, annoyed or hurt because of me.

           A knock on the door. I lift my eyes to the red numbers in the dark : 10:18 pm. Usually, when one of the brothers knock on my door, they start talking to me through it and if I don’t yell that I’m naked, they just enter. Not this time. The knock is discreet and followed by a heavy silence.

           Surprised by that unusual quiet, I get up, arranging the top I was wearing because it went up my stomach. I open the door and my pupils grow, I can almost feel it, seeing Dean’s beautiful eyes in the lights of the corridor.

“Y/n…” he says with his deep voice, his right hand on his pocket. “I’m sorry I was a drag earlier. You need space from us, I get it… Living with guys…” his tone is a little sad but very kind, I don’t know what to say. “Just, don’t change who you are, please. You can eat what you want and wear what you want sweetheart, okay ?”

“I do” I nod to close the subject and ease that worrying on his handsome face.

He bends and slowly crushes the plumb of his lips on my forehead like he always does when he’s worried about me, after hunts, before hunts… when I’m sick or tired or anything. I close my eyes, trying to enjoy this without ruining it with the pain of that stupid unrequited love.

“I just miss my friend” he says low. “I promise I won’t bother you more and knock and all, but could we spend a night together at the bar ? With Sammy ? Like we used too ? I miss that.”

The look on his face is like his brother’s puppy eyes and I feel both relieved and terrified. I miss him like crazy and just want to say yes and follow him running ; but if he leaves with a girl… It might kill me this time.

“Yeah… Okay” I sigh. If he gets with a woman, I’ll just try to observe her. “Can I just have a little time to get ready ?”

“Of course sweetheart” he nods, letting go of me. “Take your time.”

           After a few minutes trying to recover from Dean being so adorable, I finally managed to go to the bathroom. Tonight I will really try to look like one of Dean’s conquest, so I stare at it : the only dress I own.

           I bought it after I saw Dean glance at a girl in the street during the last hunt. It is the kind of dress I thought I'd never wear, I actually never even thought of wearing one in my life. The dress the girl wore was a little too sexy according to me, even slutty. Women should dress like they want to, but I wasn't ready for that super short red bustier dress, with boobs everywhere calling for attention.

           Yet, I have to become that girl, that's the whole point. If Dean likes his women bundled up in skinny dresses, so be it.

           I sight, looking at the girdle I have to wear to put that dress on, I empty my lungs and compress my stomach the more I can. Taking the dress, I hesitate, maybe this is too much.... But this is the prize to pay if I want any chance that Dean would look at me ; tonight I'm going to be that girl.

           The dress is simple but very sexy. Black taut fabric hugging me tight, with a cleavage like a bra, and straight straps, useless because the dress is so tight it holds me. I look at myself in the mirror and sigh, I'm not enough.

           I put makeup, just mascara and lipstick, and right now I have trouble thinking I don't look like a whore, but I try to remember those girls Dean likes wear more makeup and even sexier closes, so...

           A knock.

"Y/n ?" Sam says. "If you don't get out of this bathroom, Dean will be drunk before we reach the bar.

           Shit, the short dress is so tight that my panties are showing.

"Yeah, go to the car, I'm ready !" I state through the door, taking off my panties.

I have no underwear that would be good with this dress... It is short, but not too much, and it's tight, so no one will see anything when I sit. I look at myself in the mirror and decide I just won't wear panties. I take my black leather jacket and leave the bathroom trying to hide I'm shaking.

 ***

           When I enter the garage, Sam and Dean are sitting on the edge of Baby, with Led Zeppelin playing. The girdle is hurting me but I stay straight, trying to look casual.

           The two men's eyes widen and I have no idea how I am supposed to understand their look but I try not to think of it. I give them a shy smile, like I was begging them not to judge. I was waiting for a comment or anything, but they just stay totally silent.

           In the car I don't know how to sit, I always put my feet on the seat but there is no way I can do that now, so I just stay there, held upright by this awful prison compressing my ribs and stomach.

           Dean checks on me on the rear-view mirror, his face totally neutral, like he was hiding whatever he is thinking... A few months ago, I would have made fun of him, I would have asked him what was wrong with me, I would have told him to look at the road -I always did that when I caught him staring at me in the mirror-, but now, I just look down.

           Being sexy is also feeling sexy, the woman on the video said. I'm not really the kind of woman that feels sexy, but I could try. The problem is, each time I try to focus on sexy things to make this work, I end up thinking of Dean, of when his beautiful hands land on me, of his smell and his shoulders, of his mouth... And in the end, I'm felling more horny than sexy. I guess not wearing panties is kind of sexy...

 ***

           The bar is not too crowded but loud, the sound of pool balls shocking on each others, and the manly laughs of men drinking alcohol. Tugging at my dress, I look around to see if any girl could catch Dean's attention : maybe that girl at the bar, but she seems to be with a man. People are looking at me, I'm not used to it, I feel like my lack of underwear is written on my face.

           When he passes behind me, Dean puts a hand on my back, sending a shiver all along my spine. He always does that, but I'm usually wearing real clothes.

"What do you want to drink sweetheart ?" he says and I hesitate.

Alcohol is caloric, I can't really afford to drink it. After a long hesitation, I decide a whiskey would make me forget all those eyes on me.

           Taking the first sip of the amber liquid, I close my eyes. This taste reminds me of some good memories when Dean and I stayed in the kitchen to talk, slowly sipping and smiling at each other.

"Pool ?" Sam asks pointing the other side of the bar with his beer bottle.

"Yeah I don't know" Dean looks down, making me wonder... He always loved pool.

"Come on Dean !" I smile raising up, the evening is supposed to be about saving my friendship with him.

He frowns like something was hurting him, his beautiful mouth forming a pout, his dark green eyes searching my face. I can't read him. He doesn't look at me like he always did, but not like he looks at those girls either. My smile fades and the air becomes thick.

           He gets up slowly and brushes past me when he walks to the pool.

"Okay, but you stay with me" he grunts.

I follow him and notice eyes are moving with me. I know what's happening : I must be embarrassing him, that’s why he acts weird. I swallow hard and watch him take cues, the muscles of his jaw are clenched.

"So Y/n... This dress..." Sam whispers close to my ear. "Is it just to make Dean mad or is there a guy you want to go home with ?"

My heart stops.

"Dean ?" I just say searching his eyes, but he laughs. "Why..."

I can't finish my sentence because Dean gets close to me to give me the cue he prepared. His handsome face still pretty stern, he offers me to start.

           The air is still thick and Sam's words turn in my head, bouncing in every directions, banging in my head like a lost bat. What does that even mean ? Dean must be disappointed in me, maybe little a big brother wouldn't want to see his sister wear a slutty dress... Maybe what he meant was that, as Dean wanted a friendship night, dressing like I'm waiting to leave them for a one-night stand is annoying. I don’t know who I am anymore, or how I am supposed to behave.

"Y/n..." Dean calls me from the other side of the pool. "You never lose at this game, even against me... Are you okay ?"

"Yes I..."

Pretty girls don't win against the man they want, they make them feel strong and all those bullshit that polluted my brain. I'm distracted and I have no idea what to think again. Right now, I just dream of becoming the old me again, slap his ass when I win just to mock him, make him pout, drink like him, swear and get rid of that awful pain on my ribs.

"I just need another drink" I finally chose to answer. "Whiskey ?"

He nods in a frown and I leave toward the bar.

           When I order a drink, this time, the bartender looks at me, and even if it's not the same place and the same man, I can't help but think it has something to do with how I look tonight.

"There sweetheart" he smiles and I shiver at the nickname I only heard from Dean's mouth. "Tell me... Those guys ?" he points his chin to Sam and Dean.

"What ?" I glower, completely forgetting the have-a-flirty-smile-all-the-fucking-time rule.

"You know… are you with one of them ?" he says with an actually kind corner smile.

"No" I state and his grin spread to his whole mouth.

He is cute, dimples on his soft face, dark caramel-colored skin, warm black eyes highlighted by thick black curled lashes. And the softness on his features finally make me give him back a smile.

"Good because I couldn't fight any of them" he chuckles with a hint of shyness.

I chortle lightly at how right he is without knowing it. I search his face; he seems sincere and kind, there is something calming about him, no violence, no pretention.

"Hi" a man appears behind me. "Can I buy you a drink ?"

I turn to him, confused, and see in the corner of my eyes that the bartender is looking down.

"No" I smile. "Thank you but I already have a drink."

The man sighs and leaves, muttering something that I probably would hate to hear ; and a few months ago I would have made him repeat.

"Daryll" the bartender says.

"Y/n" I state.

"Let me offer you this drink..." his charming dimples appear again. "It's rare enough to see a beautiful young woman ordering whiskey.”

For the first time in a very long time, I could actually picture myself spending a night with that guy and just this feeling is already amazing : It’s like I was free, my heart belongs to Dean but, if he doesn’t want me, maybe I could at least lend my body to a kind man. I look down at my glass and forget that he hits on me just because of the dress for an instant. Daryll is really cute and smiling to him is not an effort.

"Are they your brothers or something ?" he asks, putting his arms crossed on the counter.

"No..." I turn and catch Dean's eyes but look down. "Friends."

"Oh..." he says with a pained look. "One of them is an ex or a crush ?"

I give him a sad smile, not knowing what to answer.

"Okay... Maybe you want me to leave you alone" he sighs but I shake my head, taking a sip of alcohol to swallow the lump in my throat.

“No” I give him a reassuring smile. “It’s not new… Don’t worry.”

But his eyes leave mine to look behind me with a strange expression, something weirdly close to submission.

"Y/n" Dean's voice calls me from behind and I freeze. "Can I just... Talk to you ?"

I take a deep painful breath and turn slowly to see him, his sweltering charisma emanating of him, and just like that, my calming feeling of being able to see myself kiss -or more- Daryll fades. Dean eclipsing the entire world.

"Talk ?" I raise my eyebrows.

He just nods so I glance at the cute bartender.

"I... I'll be back" I say with no joy and he gives me a polite but disappointed smile.

           Dean starts to walk and I follow, looking at his shoulders, afraid of the discussion coming. He doesn't stop anywhere in the bar and leads me outside. It’s still warm ; I look up to see the stars shining behind the feeble lamppost light.

“Y/n” he turns around to face me, his bow legs lightly spread like he needed to be hitched to the floor. “What is that ?”

I can’t read his body language.

“What is what ?” I mutter, ready for reproaches.

“You know every man here is trying to find a plan to bring you home…” he grunts.

“Well each time you go somewhere, it’s the same…”

He crosses he arms looking up while he takes a deep inhale. An overwhelming urge to cry strangles me and I decide to leave, opening my purse, I start looking at my phone to call a cab and walk toward the side of the bar.

           Dean grabs my arm firmly.

“Where are you going ?” he asks, still pretty stern.

“I just want to go home, De…”

But I can’t finish my sentence because he pushes me against the wall, both hands making sure my shoulder touches the concrete. And before I can register any of what’s happening, his lips meet mine.

           Taking a deep inhale by his nose, he crushes those plumb lips made of dream on mine and my body reacts in a thousand ways. Pure electricity roam my skin and muscles, my heart seems to grow twice his size and his beatings fasten so hard my own blood is making me high ; every erogenous part of my body takes fire and a hot slick drips between my thighs instantly.

           I don’t move but Dean cups my face and kisses my mouth again, gently taking my upper lip between his. Parting my lips slightly, I feel his tongue graze me. I close my eyes and let him kiss me, he bends his head on the side a little and invades my mouth like he could only breathe through me.

           I could stay like this my whole life, completely lost in the perfect feeling of his face so close, in the taste of him… But he’s eager and his hands leave my cheeks to rub my shoulders and down my arms. I didn’t know my body could feel so intensely…

           A moan escapes me and his lips leave my mouth suddenly, letting it wet and swollen, open and burning. His nose grazes my ear, sending shivers run all over me, and he starts leaving open mouth kisses along my throat.

           By the time his hands reach my waist, I’m shaking. His fingers are like conquerors, winning every battle, pushing boundaries. They go down my ass and squeeze it strongly, crushing me to his own waist.

This is happening.

           My inner walls clench at this thought and my head falls back, only held by the concrete. He goes lower, catching the hem of my dress, slowly pulling it up, his nails scratching the back of my thighs. Another moan.

           When my dress is just under my intimacy, he harshly grabs my legs and carries me easily, encouraging me to wrap them around his waist. I do.

           He doesn’t take us far, just turning on the side of the bar, where the light of the lamppost doesn’t go, pushing me against the wall, his hips eagerly crushing his erection against me. His lips claim me again and, when they do, my body finally allows me to move.

           I grab his neck and scratch the back of his head, rolling my hips against him. That craving I endure since I know him finally about to be satisfied. He groans in my mouth.

“Fuck…” he bites my lip, his hips joining the movement of mine, and through the rough fabric of my dress and his jean, his hard length press on my sensible clit.

“Anh!” I cry out, clinging to him. “Oh… God” I inhale, the girdle blocking my lungs in a pain my brain just registers as pleasure, because each of my cell is illuminated with it for now.

“Y/n…” he whines, his teeth teasing my pulse point.

           My hands dare going lower, slipping inside his collar to feel the intoxicating move of his upper back muscles. The circle movements of my hips makes my dress slip higher and when my folds come into contact directly with his crotch, sweat breaks through my skin.

“Oh fuck…” I moan, my hips starting to shake.

His hands grab my ass to rub me more against him and I can notice his fingers searching my panties.

“No panties Y/n…” he states in a growl, bending to bite the part of my boobs accessible on my cleavage. “You’re soaking my jeans sweetheart.”

I nod and tug at his hair to dig my tongue between his perfect lips again. His hand falls between us and scrape my inner thigh, at the closeness of his fingers, my walls clench again, like it was trying to catch him. His fingers finally reach my folds and slip between.

“Dean !” I cry out. “Dean… Dean… God… Dean !”

My legs are spread wide to cling to him, so when his thumb find my clit, his middle finger encounter no trouble to reach my entrance, caressing it and pushing on it.

“Pleeease…” escapes my lips in a wail and he smiles in the kiss.

           Torturing me, his finger keeps pushing on my entrance without really entering me and I have never felt so empty. I’m pathetically trying to come closer, but that’s impossible.

           The tip of his middle finger finally pushes inside me and my pussy flutters. His free hand come up to grab my hair, I gasp but he doesn’t hurt me, he just tugs firmly but slowly at it to have access to my throat. He sucks a hickey on the side of it, and I let him mark me like I was his. I am, really.

           His strong finger enters me in one go, making me choke in ecstasy. He doesn’t wait and slips another, grunting when he pushes deep.

           I have dreamed of Dean since forever, I have pushed my own fingers inside of me thinking of him… But nothing could have prepared me for this. I’m soaking his hand, nothing ever made me that wet ; and when he crushes his hips on me in a low moan, making his digits go deeper, I can’t help but come.

           I’m silent, my lungs crushed by their prison, my blood burning in my head and cleavage. Gasping for air, I feel my walls crush him and electricity shocks my whole body.

           A deep growl vibrates inside him. He takes his hand off of me a little too fast and I hiss. His trembling hand attacks his belt but it's too slippery so he changes hand, putting the wet one on the wall behind me, and the other between us to free is aching cock.

           When he pushes his clothes down a bit, I can’t help but look down, biting my lips. Here it is, what I crave inside of me all the time, precum nonchalantly dripping of it, red and swollen. Beautiful.

“Dean… Take me” I plead.

“Yes” he groans. “Yes…” he repeats for himself.

           He lines his length with my entrance and I can’t help but moan and pant, still looking down to see his length disappear slowly inside me. When he pushes in, it’s harsh and faster than I had anticipated. A sharp pained pleasure makes me cry out loud.

           The hand on the wall finds my mouth and crushes on it to silence me. In the deep inhale I take through my nose, I can smell myself.

           He’s big. For a second my heart panics, like I couldn’t take him, but my walls flutter and while he doesn’t move, I have time to adjust to him.

“Are you okay ?” he pants in my ear, tickling me with his breath.

I nod despite his strong hand holding my face.

           He doesn’t wait longer, withdrawing almost completely before he powerfully pushes in again, making my eyes roll in my skull. A loud scream is muffled by his large palm taking half my face.

“Fuck… Y/n… How can you be so…” but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Grunting like a wild beast, he starts thrusting in me like he had waited for it as much as me. His powerful body carrying me like I weighted nothing. My ribs hurt but I don’t care at all because it can almost feel his cock between them. It’s like he was everywhere.

I love you, I think loud. Just because I’m used to say that when I think of him.

“Y/n…” he moans, and the hand on my face becomes so strong I think it could bruise my jaw.

I can feel his own pleasure, the sweat on his forehead, the shakes on his chest, the pleas in his groans, and the throbs of his cock deep inside of me. I grab his ass, slipping my hand inside his jeans to dig my nails in it, encouraging him to take me harder, even if I don’t know if I can take harder, simply because I never had it.

           When his thrusts turn to hard beats of his hips, I scream in his hand and my toes curl in my shoes.

“Fuck ! F-Fuck ! Fff…” his voice is intoxicating.

Fireworks explode everywhere in my body and I’m quite sure this is an orgasm until the real thing strikes like a lightning.

           My stomach contracts like I had a cramp and my thighs squeeze him stronger than I thought possible, my walls milk him and my head is spinning. I have never felt a pleasure so intense and tears soak my face.

“Oh G-G-GOD !” he cries out like he hadn’t anticipated the intensity of my orgasm at all.

           He stills deep inside of me and empties himself in a wail, grabbing my jaw brutally and clumsily to crush his lips on mine. His hips start to thrust lazily after he had stilled totally and his behavior changes. He wipes my tears, gently kisses my cheeks and rubs my neck like he was trying to erase the marks his body roughly let on me.

           My brain starts to register what’s happening and I look at him, amazed by his beauty and the feeling of him. I didn’t think it would be possible to love him more…

But, when I can’t help but smile to him, the look on his face hits me like a hundred punches in the guts.

He already fucking regrets.

No flirty smile. Not even a kiss.

Regret.

What was I thinking ?

           After Heaven, it’s like I was thrown in Hell. I push on his lower stomach to make him withdraw, and he does, my feet reach the floor again. Not looking at me, he puts his now soft cock back in his pants, closing his belt in a disapproving shake of his head.

           I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I can taste blood in my mouth. The world is spinning. His cum is dripping out of me, along my thighs and I look down to see it. Grabbing my purse on the floor, I take a tissue from it and wipe my thighs, an intense feeling of shame making me nauseous.

           He watches me struggle with it and offers me to take the tissue to throw it away with a movement of his hand. I’m so stupidly in love with him, I have the paranoid feeling he just wants to take that back from me… I give him the tissue and he wipes his thumb when cum reaches his skin.

“Are you okay ?” he asks, like I could be.

I nod looking down, tugging at my dress to hide this body I now definitely hate.

“I didn’t hurt you sweetheart ?” he insists.

“No Dean…” I find my voice.

“Good” he states with that serious low voice of him.

“I want to go home” I say faking a casual tone.

“Sure” he nods. “Let me get Sam and your jacket…”

He gets closer and puts one of those usual friendly kisses on my temple.

I did it. I made Dean want me. But this victory just really doesn’t feel like one…

(To be continued...)

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Tags are open (Some tags don’t work even if I tried everything, I’m sorry)

[lombredanslaeu]

hourglass | lee jeno

▸angst, fluff i guess??

▸ summary: sometimes, love just ain’t enough.

▸ WARNING: eating disorder, depression, body dysmorphia, starvation. if any of the above triggers you or if you are not comfortable, please refrain from reading the story. 

All your life, you never really cared about your weight. As an engineering student and a part-time musical theatre actor, you never had the reason to be conscious of your body. Engineering required only your brain; no one cared what you wore or what you looked like in class. Musical theatre didn’t have as much standards for appearance than it does with vocals. Your body wasn’t that bad anyway. You were considered skinny by some and many grew envy about how you could eat so much and not gain a pound immediately. However, your perception of your body changed the day you started dating Lee Jeno.

You met Jeno when his company’s CEO decided to treat its artists with tickets to a Wicked show. You got the greatest opportunity of playing Elphaba; with your impeccable vocal talent, it wasn’t an effort to grace the stage and awe the audience. Your production always valued you not only because of your talent, but also because of your warm personality. You first made eye contact with Jeno when his company’s CEO took them backstage to meet the cast after the show. You had time to talk for a while as the CEO became deep in dialogue with the show’s director. It was Taeil who first initiated a conversation with you as the others, especially the youngsters, were too shy to start a conversation with anyone. As everyone warmed up with the other casts, you never failed to notice how Jeno was love-struck with you.

“Wow, your voice is defying the laws of gravity,” another member, Johnny, said to you.

You blushed and shook off the compliment. “Thank you so much. That meant so much to me.”

Everyone scurried off to different areas on the backstage. You were caught off-guard when one of the younger members, Jeno, talked beside you.

“How long have you been performing?” He asked.

“Only just for a year. I wasn’t planning on making this long-term. I only wanted to play a few shows here and there.” You explained. “but, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity of being Elphaba.”

“That was one of the greatest performance I’ve seen in so long.” He said. “I actually really enjoy musical theatre.”

“Really?” You asked, shocked by his confession. “What’s your favorite musical?”

“It used to be Cats,” He said, smiling shyly. “But I think know it’s Wicked.”

“Oh please,” You chuckled. “Cats is a really good show.”

He looked at you, laughing shyly. “Do you like frozen yogurt?”

“I like frozen yogurt,” You smiled.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself going on secret dates with the heartthrob. You would bond over coffee, books, and broadway musicals. You never knew he liked musicals. There would days where he would help you practice songs for your next show and you would watch him practice a choreography for a comeback. You both found the one thing that kept you closer and closer: the love for performing.

“Seeing the happy faces of my fans is one thing,” He started, staring off into the night. “But the look on my parents’ as they say how proud they are of me, is what keeps me going.”

You stared at his side profile and swallowed a lump in your throat. “They have every reason to be proud of you.”

He turned his head to meet your eyes. His eyes lingered on yours for a while before looking down at your lips. You blushed at the feeling he had over you.

“You’re really pretty.” He started. The statement took you by surprise. Not a lot of people tell you that you’re pretty but, if it comes from Jeno, any other doesn’t matter anymore.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” You chuckled. You’re not lying. Jeno has the looks that could make anyone wrapped around his fingers. “I feel like I don’t deserve to be under your gaze.”

“Of course you deserve to be looked at.” He said, more seriously this time. “I could build a gallery of you but that would give me more competitors so, I won’t do that.”

“Jeno, if you wanna kiss me, just do it.” You said. You wanted to punch yourself for what you just said. Normally, you would freak out and leave from embarrassment. But now, you held your gaze stronger. You had no idea where the courage came from.

And he did. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered. It didn’t end there. Later that night, he showed you how beautiful you are.

Sometimes, he would sneak out, with a member or two, to watch one of your shows. He would stare in awe at how people give you their applause. As the spotlight shine down on you, it was like he was seeing a goddess grace everyone with her beauty.

“Dude, if you don’t ask her out, I’m really gonna do it,” His friend, Jaemin, announced beside him.

“I already beat you into it, punk.” He responded boastfully. The shocked look on his friend’s face made him laugh.

Your peaceful relationship was cut short when his boss found out about the thing going on between you two. To say you were shocked by his calm and accepting nature would be an understatement. His company approved of your relationship. It was like the stars have aligned just for the both of you. The news broke out and spread like wildfire on the internet that night. You were too busy rejoicing with your lover that you failed to notice the threats and harsh comments of furious fans until the next morning.

You were supposed to wake up with the bird chirping and the sun shining just for you. However, you found yourself with an unfamiliar feeling in your gut. It was as if you were scared to do anything and go outside. You knew how ugly criticism from fans could be. You understood that many would not approve of your relationship but you accepted that. His company accepted the relationship and his future in NCT is not affected. At the end of the day, the comments would just float around the internet and disappear before you know it.

“You can block off the comments, you know,” He said.

“Yeah, but I think criticism can always help me improve,” You said. You didn’t want him to hate his fans.

“Those aren’t criticisms, Y/N” He replied. “Those are bashful comments.”

“It’s okay, Jeno.” You smiled, pecking his lips. “I can manage.”

 --

Outfits are an important part in musical theatre. They distinguish which character is which, even if the actor is an understudy. You were casted as Regina George in the musical remake of the hit movie, Mean Girls. The director and costume head requested you wear a crop top and skirt for the role and you said yes; after all, you liked really girly outfits. You were looking over your closet and picked out items that might fit the role. You tried on an outfit that you think was a good combination. You looked at yourself in the mirror and felt a slight wave of worry come across your chest. Jeno’s fans might see your show. What would they think if they saw your body was no match to any female idol that Jeno has interacted with? You walked over to your phone and searched up healthy diets for a good figure.

 --

Jeno had a day off and he wanted to see you practice your songs. You both sat at the couch of your small apartment with lyrics sheet in front of you.

“I wanna have pizza for lunch. What kind do you want?” He asked, fishing his phone out of his pocket to order.

“Oh nothing, I’m kinda watching my figure.” You said, looking down to avoid his eyes. You’re still not comfortable in telling people about your diet, especially to Jeno.

“Are you sure? You can burn those off in work outs anyway.” he said, concern washing over his eyes. It worried him that you weren’t eating. Food was one of the things you both bonded over. You had a fancy palette. He thought it was best to trust in you for now.

“I promise. Olivia makes very good hearty meals. I will eat dinner later.” You said.

With so much going on between theatre and your college life, there is only so much you could do in your free time. Working out would take so much of time and with deadlines as the semester is ending, you couldn’t find any time for it. So, you resulted in skipping meals. You only had two more weeks until the Mean Girls show. You just had to make sure your stomach was flat till the end of the production.

“Do you think my cheeks are too full?” You said to Jeno, squishing your face in front of the mirror.

“I think they suit you.” He said before pinching your cheeks. “It’s also really fun to squish.”

“Ouch,” You chuckled before playfully slapping his wrists away.

“You don’t have to worry about them.” He said, wrapping his arms around you. “They make you who you are.”

“That’s very cheesy, babe,” You said while chuckling.

“Y/N, you don’t have to change because other people wants you to.” He replied, more serious this time. “I’ll make sure you believe that you’re the prettiest girl that I’ve ever seen.”

 --

You were stuck with a question on your Physics quiz. You hadn’t eaten anything since you woke up. While you were standing in front of your mirror, you liked how flat your stomach was. The first show happens tomorrow night and you planned on keeping your body that way until then. The lack of food in your system resulted in your brain not working well. You spent many sleepless nights studying for Physics. Usually, you would have solved this problem in under 5 minutes but right now, you only had a minute left in your quiz and you just can’t seem to figure out what to do. On top of that, you were feeling very light-headed. The ding of your professor’s alarm struck a sharp pain from your ears to your head. You winced as you struggled to stand up. Your seatmate looked over to you, checking if you were okay but you smiled it off. You also regretted telling Jeno about your stupid diet because all he did was bug you if you ate already.

jenobear [11:34 am]: babeee, did u eat already??

jenobear [11:34 am]: oops i forgot u have ur quiz. good luck, love <333

jenobear [11:35 am]: make sure u eat, ok?? I love you.

You sighed and typed out an answer. You said you already ate. You hated lying to him but him being overseas made it easier for you somehow. The night of the show came at last. You sat backstage as Olivia helped you with your hair.

“You look pale. Are you okay?” She asked, concerned.

“Yeah, just a bit light-headed.” You replied. “It’s not like I haven’t performed with a headache before.”

“Okay, sure,” She sighed. She knew you too well. You didn’t like to be bugged with questions, especially if you’re preparing for a show. “Wanna eat at that new wings place? Heard it’s really good.”

“Sure, I could need some wings after the show.” You replied. All you needed was to be in shape for a few hours.

The crowd roared their applause as you, and the other casts, bowed as the show reached its end. You felt a migraine creep up your head and you knew its because you haven’t consumed as much food as you needed to lately. It also felt weird that it made you a bit nauseous when your eyes met the spotlight. You were glad bottles of water is all around the backstage. You picked up your phone and smiled to see messages from Jeno and the other members as well.

jenobear [9:30 pm]: never not proud of you. congrats on your show, love. <3

Lee Haechan [9:45 pm]: Y/N!!! Congrats on your show. I’m sure it’s amazing!

Kim Doyoung [9:50 pm]: Sorry I wasn’t able to go, Y/N. I’m sure you did great tonight, Regina George :)

You smiled and thanked them. You decided you wanted to call Jeno but a notification from a social media site distracted you. One of Jeno’s fans came to see the show and posted pictures of you with the caption “Y/N is very talented! I hope to see more of her shows soon~~” You blushed at the compliment. You know you shouldn’t have but you looked at the replies under the post. Your heart fluttered at the sweet compliments. You thought maybe dating an idol isn’t so bad after all. Over the sea of praise come a harsh comment that caught your eye. “I’m sure her vocals are amazing but she should work on her body.” , “Regina George wouldn’t have a match stick figure.” , “she’s kinda bloated. If only she worked on her love handles, I would like her.” You felt a sickly feeling to your stomach. You took each and every word to heart. You scrolled back up to look at the picture the original poster took. You zoomed in on your body and saw what they were talking about. The girls who played Gretchen and Karen, your character’s fellow mean girls, had Barbie doll bodies. Their curves hit at the right places and they had slim legs. You knew that you shouldn’t let this affect you. You have talent, you have personality. But, you also wanted Jeno’s fans to like you. That led you to texting Olivia to cancel your chicken wings plan.

 --

You prepped yourself to see Jeno again after 2 months. He had schedule after schedule and his team went overseas for at least 2 weeks. You limit your diet to soy milk and water. You looked at yourself in the mirror and you could see the changes. Jeno would definitely notice as well but, you liked how you looked. Your jawline was prominent, your waist was thinner, and even your legs got slimmer. It wasn’t easy slipping out of Olivia’s invites for take out and dinner but you managed, somehow. You started to notice how concerned she got each day, especially this morning.

“I grabbed you breakfast, it’s an omurice.” she said, with a warm smile.

“I can’t eat rice, I’m watching my weight.” You said, slurping down the soy milk.

“Since when did you care about your weight?” She asked.

“Since I realized that my body wasn’t in the right shape.” You made sure none of the words came out as bitter or else, she will suspect something was wrong. She didn’t stop bugging you and it started to make you cranky so you just gave in. After consuming the omurice, you couldn’t deny that you felt better. But the guilt started kicking in and the next thing you know, you’re sticking two fingers down your throat in an attempt to vomit what you just consumed. You stared at the mess on the sink and that’s when you knew something was wrong.

 --

“I missed you so much,” Jeno said, as he held you close to his body.

“How are you, my favorite boy?” You stared lovingly to his eyes.

“A bit tired,” He said, taking off his cap and fixing his hair. “But I slept the whole flight.”

“Do you want to just chill here?” You asked. Everyone in the door went to see a movie with the older members. Jeno and Jisung chose to stay behind since they had plans. He snuggled closer to your body. He noticed how your body didn’t feel familiar. He could definitely tell that you were losing weight.

“I am a bit hungry though,” He responded. He wanted to see you eat. It worried him to the core about thin you were looking lately. It wasn’t obvious when you two would FaceTime but it was more apparent in person. He felt you shift slightly at his response. He spoke before you could. “Have you been trying to lose weight?”

“I just wanted to be more fit.” You said, your heart beating faster each time you lie. “I’m working out.”

As someone who works out to maintain his body, Jeno knew well that your body wasn’t a result of working out. But as someone who cares about their appearance, Jeno also knew that he shouldn’t jump into major conclusions yet. He knew how horrible the talk about weight is and he didn’t want to put you through it. Besides, he knew you and he knows that you wouldn’t lie to him.

You felt conflicted as you noticed that Jeno was becoming concerned about how thin you got. To make him believe that you were well, you agreed in eating take-out with him for lunch. You know what to do after, anyway. As you wait for him to finish showering, you decided to check your social media accounts. You tapped on instagram to replied to a comment Olivia wrote on your new post. You laughed silently at how your friends gave funny compliments. Your eyes browsed through the comment sections. Normally, it would be filled with comments about your face, body, and how you didn’t deserve Jeno. This time, it was filled with compliments about how great you look. “I wish I had her body :(“, “Body goals oh my god”, “SKINNY LEGEND QUEEN”. You felt your cheeks blush at the compliments. You realized that the thinner you got, the more you got full of praise. You intend to keep it that way.

 --

Jeno scrolled through his twitter feed and saw an article from a k-pop news page. It was an article about your drastic weight loss. He looked at the pictures included in the article. There were pictures of you from months ago with your old body. Jeno reminisced the first time you met. You looked healthy and happy. You didn’t have the curviest figure, but you were healthy. Following the old pictures were recent pictures of you, both from your recent social media posts and pictures from fans during your latest theatre shows. Your ribs were more prominent and it created a tidal wave of concern to wash over Jeno. He didn’t realize how much he missed the old you. The one who was never scared to try different food. Now, it was like every time he asked you to eat with him, you always refuse. But, he was too kind to base a fight over your appearance.

 --

You sat across the couch with Olivia. You two decided to watch the latest season of The Office.

“Wait, let me use the bathroom for a while” She announced. While she did her business, a phone on the coffee table in front of you lit up. Your phone was laid beside hers so you looked over to see it was her phone that had the notification. What you didn’t expect was who sent her the message.

You have one new message from Lee Jeno.

You didn’t know what to think. It would be immature of you to accuse them of being unfaithful when you don’t know what the message contained. But why would she text him? Why would he text her? As in on cue, Olivia came back from the bathroom.

“Uhm, Liv” You started. “Why are you texting Jeno?”

She stared at you. She knew what you would think but she promised Jeno she wouldn’t tell you about what they were talking about.

“Oh, you know what?” You said suddenly. “It doesn’t matter. You two can be friends and I trust both of you.” You tried so hard not to sound jealous because you weren’t. Olivia is like a sister to you.

You knew well that she wouldn’t betray you like that. She smiled slightly and offered you the popcorn. You shook your head and she snapped.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Y/N” She said. You were caught off guard by her outburst. “You wanna know why I’m texting Jeno?”

You gulped, maybe you don’t want to know why. You changed so much of yourself to please him, his fans, and his management. If they betrayed you like this, you wouldn’t know what to do.

“You’re starving yourself, haven’t you?” She asked, her eyes burning holes into your skull.

“I-I’m not…” You stuttered. You thought you were good at lying but apparently, you’re not.

“Really?” She said. “Ever since you started dating Jeno, all you cared about was your weight. We don’t eat out anymore. We don’t cook anymore. What bothered you? Is it him? Is it the fans?”

You know you could never blame anyone, but yourself. It wasn’t their fault you turned out this way. It was one thing to hear about your weight loss from concerned fans, but it was another when it’s coming out of your best friend’s mouth. You didn’t realize that tears were falling out. The moment Olivia wrapped her arms around you, everything collapsed. All the pressure, the frustration that built up inside of you for so long. The urge of wanting to eat, to feel what it was like to taste again. The anger you felt for yourself for letting it become this bad. It all collapsed and fell from your eyes.

 --

“Here, there isn’t a lot of sugar in that,” Jeno offered you some cookies. You decided to visit him in the recording studio. You were doing so well. You decided to enrol yourself in a support group, as well, and you’ve never missed a single meeting. But you knew you were only forcing it. You saw Olivia and Jeno cry over your situation. It was unfair that you bring them into your mess. Maybe if you say you’re fine loud enough, you’ll believe it.

“I’m proud of you.” His eyes sparkled as he said those word to you.

“I love you.” You responded, before leaning in for his lips.

It took everything in Jeno to let you know how much he loves you. By the way his lips merge with yours and how his hands worshiped every crevice of your body. Each touch symbolizes that you are the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on. You knew that; but, you wish you could believe it. With every praise that heat your cheeks, comes a wave of hate that consumes it all. Will a beautiful body make it all better for you?  

You hurried to your bathroom the second you got home. Olivia was out to her boyfriend’s night, leaving you alone with your habits. As your fingers hit the spot on your throat, you felt the hot bile rise from your stomach. It burned and left a sour taste to the back of your mouth; and you loved it. You missed the sensation of your stomach being empty. You never knew how much you liked the feeling of being empty until you felt it again.

 --

“Am I not enough for you” Jeno spoke, his eyes attached to his hands that are clasped in front of him.

“What are you saying, babe?” You asked. You tried to see where this was going. You made you sure every lie that came out of your mouth was believable; why is he saying those things?

“I try so hard to make sure everything I do for you is enough,” He said. It was obvious in his demeanor that he was tired. “I worry about you all the time. The members try so hard to cover up for me every time I needed to tend to you.”

You chuckled, “So what is this? You’re telling me I’m a pity party?”

“No,” He shook his head, not believing the attitude you’re giving him. Frustration was starting to let itself be known on his features. “What else could you possibly want? I give you love, I give you space. I get tired as well, you know.”

That’s when it dawned on you. Love is not enough. Love won’t come magically and heal everything. Jeno could give you all the love in the world but it won’t be the remedy. Love doesn’t fix everything. You can’t just go up to a broken person and expect romance would suddenly want them to dance on their grave. It doesn’t work that way. You never had the courage to tell him that. In retrospect, you wish you had it in you to say it.

“You’re enough for me, Jeno.” You said quitely. You didn’t know what else to say. All this time, you never blamed him. But here he is now, throwing it all back at you. You still won’t blame him though, he doesn’t know what it feels like; you’re glad he doesn’t know how it feels like.

“I don’t know how to help you if you can’t help yourself.” He said, sighing as if he has given up. Maybe he has given up. The people who left you before has taught you to swallow every plead to make them stay. That’s the only think you could stomach to swallow right now - the words to make him fight a little longer. You didn’t know how much long it would be for you to be okay, or if you could actually be okay. But, you knew better than to run after others when you can’t even stand for yourself. Some nights, you feel yourself drown in cold sweat. Your body felt like it could give up on you any minute. You laid still and wait; but it never came. You wondered how much longer.

Jeno has a bright future ahead of him. The news of him being single again gave him new schedules that would give him exposure to different opportunities. He didn’t regret leaving. He still occasionally see your musical shows just to check how you are. You will never know this but he hopes it’s always sunny wherever you are.

a/n: i hope you liked this. this hit close to home. i would like to remind you that if you are experiencing symptoms of any mental illness, please check with a professional. mental health is a topic that i hold deeply in my heart since i have experience from mental illnesses. i would also like to remind everyone to always be kind to others - whether it would be our friends, people we don’t like, and even idols. let’s not contribute to anything that could affect them negatively. as always, feedback and requests are always appreciated. love u all <33

[imdefyinggravity]

If you were to put Tin and Can in the BBC Merlin universe, what do you think they would be

Ugh, interesting. Hm lets start with Tin, that one is easier. So, hes obviously at least a nobel. Maybe even second born prince of some other kingdom. Not sure where to place him, since I would make him brother to Mithian, but we do know she doesnt have a sibling and concerning the middle ages, Tin would have been crownprince, so theres that. So I will go with some noble family in camelot, since I want him to be connected to Arthur in a way. They would go along splendidly, since their “I’m better than you” is only a mask in some way and I can see them having some fun on boring feasts and stuff like that. Arthur complaining about his idiotic manservant, while Tin wonders why on earth Arthur is even putting up with such an incompetent servant.

Can on the contrary is like I said before in my mind the knight in shining armour and I would love for him to actually be that chaotic knight, who all others shake their heads about, a bit similar to Gwaine in that way, always a bit messy, searching for something to eat etc. Then again Can is a commoner, and I cant imagine him as some noble, so no knight in shining armour, at least until Arthur gets crowned king and doesnt care about status and stuff anymore. Before that, where to put Can? Okay, I decided, his mother is a seamstress in camelot, working mostly for the servants of the castle. Therefore Can is often instructed to bring the repaired or newly sewn clothes to the castle. And since he’s friendly and very interested in all the gossip of the royal family, he likes to hang out there, sneaking into the kitchen, because the cook is very fond of the boy with the big smile and though she’s always complaining, kicking him out of her kitchen, shes still fetching him some snacks, which Can accepts with the brightest smile on earth. Afterwards he hangs out in the castle, gossiping with the maids and servants. He’s quite fond of Gwen, because they get along fine and Gwen always knows the best stories about that idiotic prince of camelot.

Nowadays she tells him, about that new manservant who had the guts and nerve to challenge the crownprince on his first day in camelot and Can is in awe, because damn, thats a level of idiotic, not even he does manage. So he hears all those stories of Merlin mouthing off to the crownprince, being sassy, throwing the future kings stuff in some random corners instead of actually cleaning the room, that he really really wants to meet that guy. Because he cant decide if Merlin is the toughest guy ever or one with some deathwish and one braincell only.

Its months later when they actually met, because Gwen is away with Morgana on some girly trip or whatever girls do, when they travel and therefore its actually Merlin whos around when Can delivers the new clothes. And Merlin actually doenst have a deathwish and more than one braincell and Can really likes that guy. Turns out Merlin can tell even better stories and Can listens to all the shit he says about his master. Can has a bit of a herocrush on Merlin, while Merlin is obviously very oblivious. They met a few times and since Merlin is a nice guy, he actually greets Can when they pass in the courtyard, sometimes stopping to have a short chat. And Can beams and Arthur does notice this. And we all know how Arthur reacts when someone pays attention to his Merlin, so he actually shouts at Merlin, while Merlin just rolls his eyes and keeps on talking, until theres a loud “MERlin” blasting through the citadel. Merlin giggles and Can does wonder how such a nice guy can work for such an arse.

One day Can passes the training field and stops for a moment to admire the swords and the fights going on, because wouldnt it be cool to be a knight? He’s still watching when starting to walk, clashing right into someone and they go down in a twirl of limbs and shouts. Well the other one shouts, because Can is way to cool for that, thank you very much. And okay, he wasnt looking, but thats no reason to curse at him and being that fucking rude. He takes it back, he doesnt want to be a knight, because nobles are fucking assholes. Can being Can, he’s not going down without a fight, so he actually punches the guy after the third insult. And he remembers to late, that this is no good idea, punching a noble does have consequences esp. when everyone can see you. And oh fuck, is that the crownprince coming their way?

Thankfully Merlin is not far away, actually being the first to be there and trying to calm down that noble bastard, trying to save Can from punishment, now arguing with the crownprince himself. And Can is once again awestruck. The nerve of that guy. And its actually going well, until bastard guy looks at Can watching Merlin and says “What? He’s your boyfriend or why are you protecting him?” And Merlin laughs but doesnt see how Arthurs whole attitude changes and now he looks at Can and Can can feel the hair at his back rising. He’s so fucked. He tries to look as innocent as he can, but Arthur has murder written in his eyes and what on earth is going on.

So Can goes in fightmode and shouts again at bastard guy, while Arthur is fuming and Merlin is really done. What has he ever done to deserve this life? So yeah, end of the song, Merlin does have his way to calm down his future king, pointing out how those two blow off while being around each other and he may has an idea, because he’s way smarter than most people give him credit for, especially his idiot of a master and he sees the way Tin reacts completly out of character concerning Can and thinks: hm, interesting. So he actually gets the punishment for punshing a noble down to Can running errands for Tin for the next days while he’s here and Can changes his mind. Merlin is no hero, and not someone to be in awe off, he’s actually a horrible person, betraying him like that.

And okay maybe Tin is not that bad when you get closer to him, but he’s still an arse but Can can handle idiots and they actually get along quite well, when Tin is not a snob, which Can gets never tired of pointing out. 

And its years later when Arthur decides knights do not need to be a noble, only need to be brave and have a pure heart and being loyal and its actually not Merlin pointing out, but Tin, that Can is all of that. And huh when exactly did those two get so cozy with each other? He needs to ask Merlin later about that, because for some reason, Merlin does always know whats going on in this kingdom. But yeah he’s right, so when the time comes, Can gets knighted and Tin is beaming with pride and yeah, NO ONE BLOODY DIES IN MY CAMELOT. Thank you very much. The End

[glare0322]

h.i.v.e. head canons

just some character and relationship/friendship head canons :)

laura

- plays the piano and quite well. she doesn’t want to play much at h.i.v.e. because it reminds her of scotland and her family. after book eight, she plays a lot more frequently cause she really sees h.i.v.e. and the people there as her home.

- is not organized in anything but school and files on her computer. her brain runs a million miles an hour which leads to things getting messy fast.

- becomes a lot closer with raven after the greenhouse since they now have a bit of shared trauma especially in the fact anastasia favored to torture both of them.

- still sucks at driving even after h.i.v.e.

- after h.i.v.e. laura goes and lives with her family for a month back in scotland. they talk about h.i.v.e., shelby and her other friends, whats been happening here, and other general catching up topics. mary (mrs. brand) takes a special interest in meeting otto and laura reminds her mom every day not to make a big deal about it. yet she still counts down the days until she gets to meet her daughter’s boyfriend.

otto

- gets very frustrated when he can’t grasp certain concepts or master specific skills. he is known as the boy genius after all.

- went through an edgy phase while at h.i.v.e. not emo, but he would throw in more hurtful quips towards shelby during their usually playful spits and his jokes were just a little too dark. otto got a lot more detentions during this time and even the thought of trying to escape again reoccurred in his mind. he eventually noticed how wing was not a fan of it and slammed the breaks. of course everyone still makes fun of him for it.

- if you don’t think otto wouldn’t cry at the sight of his newborn child/ren then um...you’re wrong

- he looks back on his little prime minister scheme with pride and cringes terribly at it. on one hand, it was his beginnings and the device he made not only worked but was something like no other. and then he remembers how he made the prime minister moon everyone. when he was younger it was hilarious, now that he’s a tad older otto hates the fact he did that. there is just something immature and lacking taste about the whole thing.

- lives in sweaters/jumpers. i know this one is random, but something about them just suits otto.

wing

- has a gentle singing voice. he only sings lullabies to his kids and if one of his friends needs it. besides that wing does not sing often. it’s always a treat when he does.

- wing is really scared to be a dad. the thought of being like his father is incredibly scary to him.

- i really can not see wing becoming a villain but an antihero, now that i can definitely see. his methods are immoral in the sense he is still technically a murder, but he only goes after truly evil corporations. like human trafficking kind of evil.

- he teaches his kid/s self-defense and martial arts.

- trilingual and speaks english, japanese, and mandarin. the first two are canon to the story but i feel like his parents probably would have taught him at least some mandarin.

shelby

- shelby hated how laura would stay up for hours in the night tapping away on her computer. however when she moved out, it seemed weird not to fall asleep to the sound of a typing keyboard.

- if there is a h.i.v.e. gymnastics team/program (since there is a water polo team) shelby would totally do it. she waves to her friends before her round and even sometimes blows a kiss to her supportive boyfriend who is always there to see her.

- after h.i.v.e. she pursues gymnastics professionally. it provides the same wealth she was used to back with her parents, she likes to do it, but most importantly it’s an amazing cover up for why she’s traveling so many places around the world. (to steal of course) it also funds these trips and gives her, and wing for that matter, a great public image. plus she likes the spotlight a bit.

- i’ve said this before but shelby eventually gets lessons from raven. i just love this idea with my whole heart especially because how different these two are.

- had a bit of affluenza before h.i.v.e. which played into her desire for stealing diamonds along with her crappy parents. (my theory on shelb’s parents is right here)

laura and otto

- otto adores laura’s piano playing. there is something peaceful about it to him which he finds really comforting.

- they go to university together in scotland and help each other get through it. the two live in an apartment together go to school then see each other after classes at home.

- laura has some zero ptsd and it occasionally effects her relationship with otto in the sense she gets flashbacks and is genuinely scared. otto completely understands this though and is super patient with her. obviously it bothers him since he’s not zero, but he understands why she’s experiencing this and loves her enough to put his annoyance aside for her.

- these two wanted their kids’ names to be after someone. so if they would ever have a daughter her name would be lucy and the middle name of their son would be wing. laura wanted to include shelby but it just didn’t fit anywhere.

- if otto can’t find a shirt, then laura is wearing it. she wears his clothes super frequently and he won’t complain. she looks cute :,)

laura and shelby

- shelby likes things to look pretty, so she ends up being the one that keeps their room tidy, makes the beds, and other cleanly stuff like that. especially when they live together outside of h.i.v.e. she does the dishes pretty often, keeps their room looking nice, and stocks their fridge. laura is messy, but it doesn’t effect her much cause shelbs takes care of it. she doesn’t mind and only teases laura when people are over to embarrass her (all in good fun).

- laura doesn’t like girly things (we been knew). shelby tried for a while to get her into these things and a few stick on: nail polish, very light make up, and shopping. but never and i mean never would shelby make laura do something she didn’t want to. of course laura introduces shelby to her more geeky/nerdy stuff. they watch superhero shows together, shelbs has a black widow t-shirt in her closet now, and even some basic hacking codes.

- laura didn’t like shelby at first not only because of her nasty personality, but because she was a lot like the girls who would talk about laura behind her back.

- basically canon, but shelby was the number one ottra shipper. she had been rooting for them since day one of h.i.v.e. laura comes to her for advice with otto and shelby consoles her when lucy and otto get together. they both were disappointed the two didn’t get together.

- laura is really good at baking and shelby asks her once to help her bake something for wing. (she was really trying y’all) long story short, even laura couldn’t help shelby’s terrible baking skills and they set off the fire alarms in their apartment along with the sprinklers.

wing and otto

- otto wanted to do one of wing’s workouts despite his best friends many warnings it would be rough. it was safe to say otto underestimated the intensity of the workout.

- oh god the scene where these two will eventually leave each other to go move on past h.i.v.e. is just absolutely gut wrenching. they both acknowledge how the other had such an influence on their lives and hope to see them prosper in life. honestly this is like a rare moment where i can see wing legitimately crying.

- so we all know how wing has half the overlord protocol necklace (he has yang) if shelby doesn’t get the yin half then otto should because he kinda fits the yin meaning and is best bros with wing.

- for wing’s “bachelor party” they honestly just get all the guys from h.i.v.e. together and hang out for a couple hours. after, however, he and otto go out and go have some fun doing morally gray criminal activity.

- they still sometimes speak in japanese to each other on missions and stuff or if they need to plan something without anyone else knowing.

shelby and wing

- they move permanently to america, but visit china and japan quite frequently.

- one of the first things shelby does after she and wing get out of h.i.v.e. is watch a bunch of disney movies and american movie classics so he can understand the pop culture references she has been making for the past five years.

- i totally think shelby gets the other half over otto, or at least a replica. there’s kinda set up for this as well, the other half (yin) is known as the feminine half.

- if they would ever have a daughter her name would be mei or raven.

- she always knows exactly what to get him as a gift or even just in general. she’s observant and can pick up on what he needs before he does. wing has mentioned before shelby is a little...less predictable but he tries his hardest and oh my goodness does shelby appreciate his efforts. of course it irritates her, but she knows her slightly emotionally-unavailable boyfriend is trying an insane amount to sort through her emotions right.

shelby and otto

- they totally bond over how wing is great, but have an urge to smother him in his sleep because of the obnoxiously loud snoring

- menaces to the public when these two are together. i couldn’t even begin to tell you all the crafty things that would conspire between these two. pranking teachers, seeing who can steal the answers first, racing in stealth or in fitness classes. (wing beats both of them in combat/fitness so their efforts are often pointless)

- when they first came to h.i.v.e. shelby was taller than otto, by quite a margin too. she teased him into another galaxy about it. so when the day came that otto was officially taller than her, she mourned the countless jokes that could no longer be made.

- asks a lot of those “wait who logically thought to make butter?” questions. they also argue whether these people were geniuses or a new level of stupid. (seriously who thought to mix together milk until it gets to a solid consistency and then eat it?)

- they have to live together for one month after h.i.v.e. in the beginning, they like wanted to choke each other, but by the end of the month they were upset to not live with each other any more. (fic is dropping soon 🙈)

wing and laura

- after the greenhouse incident, laura went to wing asking him to teach her some martial arts since she felt really weak physically while in there. he doesn’t initially think it’s the best idea, but laura convinces him it will be okay.

- they’re a lot better friends then people would initially think. she hugged him like twice in the first book alone and is grateful for him saving her life. laura and wing seem like the two that just relax with each other. no shenanigans, no combat, honestly just vibing. they drink tea and watch murder mystery shows while catching up on the latest things and theorizing about the show.

- the entire gang goes to tokyo all together at one point in their life. laura and wing go to all the historical places in the city and chat about them for hours.

- they go on hikes together. that’s it. i’m right and you know it.

- i always imagined at least once wing decided to try and take the high road instead of cheating by asking laura to tutor him. it worked pretty well for him and now whenever he needs help with work, he just goes to laura and they work through it together.

[xxcorndogxx]

Sandor Clegane x Reader||Chapter Fifteen

The room is silent. Sandor takes another drink.

"When I heard Joffrey's dog had tucked tail and run from the Battle of The Blackwater, I didn't believe it. But here you are."

"Here I am. Bring me one of those chickens." He orders.

"You got money to pay for it?"

"You paid for it?"

Polliver laughs.

"No. But we're the Kingsmen. So, you got money?" He asks again.

"Not a penny. I'll still take that chicken." He says.

"Tell you what. We'll trade you. One of our best chickens for your best." He nods to me. "Give us a go at your pretty little friend." He turns around. "Lowell here likes them a bit broken in."

Lowell raises his cup. The men chuckle. I look up at Sandor. He bites his lip.

"You're a talker. Listening to talkers makes me thirsty."

He reaches over and grabs Pollivers cup. He drinks down the whole thing.

"And hungry. Think I'll take two chickens."

Polliver turns around. He can't be serious. I try my best to study his face but he's a hard man to read.

"You don't seem to understand the situation." Polliver states.

"I understand that if any more words come pouring out of your cunt mouth, I'm gonna have to eat every fucking chicken in this room." He threatens.

"You lived your life for the King. You're gonna die for some chickens?" Polliver threatens.

"Someone is," Sandor promises.

Sandor lightly pushes me off of his lap. Everyone stands and Sandor pushes the table over on Polliver. He draws his sword and I draw mine.

"Stand down girl I don't want to hurt that pretty face."

"I'd like to see you try."

He's gutted before he can blink. The next one comes at me. Another man joins. The two men overpower me. My back pressed to the wall. I block their swords with mine. I push against their blades with all my strength. I swing their swords away and kick one hard in the crotch and stab through the other. The one grabs onto my dress standing up. This pulls me down as he stands in his feet. My dress lifted up he looks down my legs. I fight him as he moves down to me. I kick him in his face. He stumbles back right onto Sandors blade. I pant looking up at Sandor. I can feel the blood splattered on my face. The cut on my arm. The blood seeping through my dress. Sandor pulls me to my feet. Arya bashes one over the head pushing a sword into him. She cuts Polliver in the back of his leg and he sinks to his knees. Arya takes back Needle.

"Something wrong with your leg boy?" Arya says to him.

He questions what she means.

"Can you walk? I've got to carry you?" She continues.

"Carry me?" He questions.

"Fine little blade." She says.

She puts it to his throat.

"Maybe I'll pick my teeth with it."

What is she talking about? He gasps in realization and she pushes the blade into his skin.

Sandor moves me up onto the horse. He holds a chicken leg and climbs up behind me. He grabs me by my breast pulling me back into his chest.

"I told you I'd kill any man that looked at in a way I didn't like." He grumbles.

"I know." We ride off down the road.

"Gonna rain soon." Arya points out.

I lay in the grass. I look at the grey sky as Sandor pisses not too far behind me.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"Near Fairmarket, I think." He says walking back to the horses.

"You think," Arya says following him.

I sit up and brush myself off as I stand.

"I don't have a map," Sandor confesses.

"You should get one," Arya says.

"Just point out the next map shop you see and I'll buy you one." He jokes.

"How far is it to The Eyrie?" Arya asks sitting on a rock.

I stand to pet the horse's mane.

"Far."

He picks up the water bag and dips it in the water.

"And you're sure we're going the right way?" She asks.

"Believe me, girl, I want you there as soon as I can." He comes over to me and the horse. "Get my gold, be on my way."

"On your way where?"

"Why do you care?" He grumbles.

I help guide the horse to the water.

"Thank you, little dove." He mumbles kissing my temple as he holds the bag.

She eats the vegetables she picked.

"Sandor, I'd like to know where we're going as well." I lean against the bridge.

"Might book passage across The Narrow Sea. Fight as a sellsword. Second Sons could be. It seems like a good fit for me." He explains.

"I'd like to see Braavos one day," Arya confesses.

"Why Braavos?" I ask.

"I have friends there." She explains.

I scowl as Sandor blows snot from his nose.

"Ew." I pout.

"Oh shut it." He turns to Arya. "I doubt it."

"Seven blessings to you."

We lookup. On the bridge, there's a man and a little girl.

"What do you want?" Sandor asks.

"What do I want? This is my land." He states.

"If I'm standing on it, it's my land," Sandor argues.

"Sandor." I lecture. "My apologies, you must excuse my husband he can be quite blunt at times. He's been rough around the edges since he came back from fighting in the war." I elbow him. "We were just watering the horses. We'll be on our way."

"Which House did he fight for?" The man asks.

"The Tully's of Riverrun," Arya speaks up.

"There's a storm coming." The man says. "You'll be wanting a roof tonight. There's fresh hay in the barn. And Sally here makes rabbit stew just like her mom used to do." He offers. "We don't have much but any man that bled for house Tully is welcome to it."

He smiles. I bow.

"Thank you, sir."

The man prays before we eat. The rain pours outside.

"You going to do all seven of the fuckers?" Sandor asks.

"John!" I elbow him.

John was the first name I could think of. The man continues.

"And we ask the stranger not to kill us in our beds tonight for no damn reason at all." Sandor interrupts.

He reaches over and pours himself some stew.

"John!" I shout at him. "Honestly, sometimes I feel like you died at Blackwater and they sent a heartless clone back." I pull his ear. He swats my hand away. "My deepest apologies, we haven't eaten in a while. He's grumpy when he's hungry."

I pour myself a bit of stew. Sandor slurps from his bowl. So does Arya.

"Honestly. I feel like I'm raising two sons." I rub my temple.

"It's quite alright. I can tell that you've been through a lot."

"It's not alright, my family has been nothing but rude to you since we got here and you've shown us nothing but kindness." I eat my stew probably. "That's a great stew, girly." I nod to the girl.

"Thank you." She nods.

"Did you fight at The Twins?"

"Call that a fight? Slaughtering livestock more like."

"The red wedding they're calling it. Walder Frey committed sacrilege that day." The man grumbles. "He shared bread and salt with the Starks. He offered them guest rights."

"Guest right doesn't mean much anymore."

"It means something to me." He looks at me. "The gods will have their vengeance. Frey will burn in the seventh hell for what he did. Things were different when Hoster Tully tilled the Riverlands. We had good years and bad years, the same as anyone. But we were safe. Now with the Freys, raiders come plundering, steal our food, steal our silver. I was gonna send Sally North to stay with my brother, but the North's no better. The whole country's gone sour."

"You got any ale?" Sandor asks.

"Afraid not."

"How can a man not keep ale in his home?"

"You look like you could really swing that sword. A real warrior with proper training. Those raiders wouldn't stand a chance against you. How would it be if you stayed on till the new moon? I could use some help with the farmwork. Sally does what she can, but she can't lift a bale of hay. And if any thieves come looking for easy pickings, one look at you I bet they're gonna run the other way." I raise my brow at him. "No offense to your husband, but he is a very scary man."

I nod. "That he is."

"What'll you pay?" Sandor asks.

"I don't have much. But I've hidden a bit of silver from the bandits." He confesses. "Fair wages for fair work?" He offers.

Sandor looks at me. "What do you think?"

He asks placing a hand in my leg. I turn to the man.

"Fair wedges for fair work." I smile.

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, BEE, you have been accepted to AL for the role of DOLORES UMBRIDGE (FC:Olivia Taylor Dudley). OH MY GOODNESS, BEE! Your portrayal of Dolores was just stunning. I found myself laughing in places and gasping in others. You’ve really gotten into the head of a character that is just awful and played that out in a way that’s captivating. I can’t wait to see what chaos she brings to the dash! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — Bee age — 29 pronouns — She/her timezone — MST activity level — I have quite a bit of free time at the moment! I can usually manage being on for at least a little while every day and I’ll average a handful of replies a week at a minimum. any questions? —No questions per se, just a small disclaimer to let anyone reading know that I am a tolerant and open-minded individual, so while I’m excited for the creative challenge and entertainment of potentially writing an absolutely loathsome person like Ms. Dolores Jane Umbridge, anything offensive that she says or thinks or does IC does not reflect my own personal views!

IC Overview

name — Dolores Jane Umbridge—but my friends call me Lo, at least they would if I had any FRIENDS. -hold for laughter- Yeah, eat your fucking hearts out all you moronic lowlife swine. Hem hem. faceclaim — Olivia Taylor Dudley, Jenna Coleman, Mae Whitman age — 32 gender — Cis-female, and uncomfortably cutesy girly-girl for a woman over thirty. Hyperfemme caricature with BDE. Never met a shade of pink she didn’t just love.

sexuality — Outwardly, all Dolores cares about is locating the picture-perfect partner for the type of life she wants to be seen as having and lock them down, and in her mind that person is a man. She wants a husband with money and looks and brains and power, but not so much of any one that it would outshine her; she craves to be in the power seat of a power couple, and to get the attention she feels she’s always been unjustly robbed of. She’s got no interest whatsoever in romance and finds the whole concept a laughable waste of time. But for all she projects to the world, Dolores in reality harbors a deep, deep, DEEPDEEPDEEP same-sex attraction. She has thoroughly locked herself in that closet and a Norwegian Ridgeback swallowed the key.

patronus —Persian cat. This animal has all the appearance of being sweet and cuddly, but rub her the wrong way and those barely-retracted claws are coming out in an instant. Vain, independent, calculating, haughty, and very, very well-groomed at all times.

boggart —Stemming from her Napoleon Complex, Dolores’ boggart takes the form of herself shrunken down like Alice in Wonderland after sipping the drink me potion; her voice squeaks higher and higher into an undetectable range no matter how loud she yells and she can just barely avoid getting squashed beneath someone else’s disgusting, dirty shoes. Dolores as a person demands attention to function and she simply will not tolerate being made to feel literally small.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

tidy - Dolores is obsessed with beauty and perfection and symmetry in all things and nothing makes her skin crawl more than disorder—to the extent that after her mother and father split and she lived full-time with her father, Dolores developed OCD (though it hasn’t been properly diagnosed as such, and Dolores would immediately write off anyone who attempted to call it that to her face). In her mind she is simply particular; she has very high standards and she expects the world to rise to them, or else she’ll root out the filth around her weed by weed. She cut off the heads of her stuffies who stepped out of line at her toddler-age tea parties you’d better believe she’d do the same to you and care less about it.

passive aggressive - Dolores is well-known for her disconcerting calm in face of disagreements, her calculated cute-sweet demeanor and high-pitched voice. But make no mistake; Dolores is sugar laced with arsenic. In all likelihood she hates your guts and has already cooked up an in-depth five-year plan to chip away at you piece by painstaking piece. It’s a mystery how she manages to keep all that highly-pressurized rage simmering beneath the surface the way she’s somehow perfected, because she’s wound up so tight that it’s a wonder her eyes don’t pop out of her damn head and she’s about twenty-five seconds away from a full-blown psychotic break on a good day.

jealous - Dolores wants what she feels she’s due, plain and simple. When she sees others gain the things she wants while she gets overlooked, it stokes that ever-burning vindictive flame inside of her. It started in early childhood when her father gave attention to anyone or anything that wasn’t her, and it’s only gotten worse every day since.

intolerant - At this point in her life, her infamous intolerance is still in its earliest seed stages, but the seed is planted. One of the most interesting things for me about writing a character like Dolores at this age is to see how and why this mentality grows out of experiences she encounters in these formative years.

character biography —

Born ten pounds of spunk in a four pound, five ounce package, Dolores Jane Umbridge came into this world pink and perfect.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfectperfectperfect.

Even from a young age it was all Dolores cared about. Her father Orford Umbridge would whisper to Dolores what a beautiful perfect princess she was and Dolores believed it with every fibre of her being. Beautiful. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

Then her mother Ellen gave birth to a younger brother who showed not the faintest trace of magic, and that was not perfect. The rift between parents and siblings grew into a cavern as Orford’s whispering words turned against Ellen; her fault. Worthless. Vile. Mudblood. Filthy Squib. Repulsive. Disgraceful. Wrong.

It wasn’t long before the couple split up, with Ellen and her son being banished to the Muggle world, and then it was just Orford and Dolores, together in their once-more perfect world.

And would that it could have stayed that way forever. Orford had always had wandering eyes and Dolores, desperate always to be the only girl in her father’s life, grew jealous and suspicious and hateful (and nonononono NOT anything else nope) for the beautiful vapid creatures that drew his gaze, threatening to upend what was hers.

Knowing nothing beyond her childhood of constant praise and adoration, Dolores went to Hogwarts expecting the world to cater to her every whim. So when people didn’t immediately kiss the ground she walked on, it made her angry. When all the girls and boys didn’t fall all over themselves to try and woo her, it made her furious. When the professors and adults didn’t sing her vast praises on high, it made her outraged.

How was everyone on earth too fucking useless to see how perfect she was?!

Dolores was a bundle of dynamite wrapped up in a pretty pink bow, just waiting to blow.

She went to the Ministry with adjusted expectations on being outright offered what she knew she deserved, and was proven right when she was overlooked by grotesquely unqualified superiors in favor of the sniveling ingrates all around her. But Dolores was prepared to play the long game and bide her time, just waiting for that one weak crack in the system where she could dig in her knuckle and crumble an empire with a smile on her face.

And she thought she’d found that perfect crack when she went to the Dark Lord. Surely he would see Dolores for all she was worth, surely he would bestow upon her all that power, finally, finally, finally. He was only a silly man, after all.

But the foul, imperfect world let Dolores down again. The Dark Lord gave his preference to some other detestable twots just like Dolores always feared Orford would, and then he paid the price for his idiocy when he fell from power (serves him right the arrogant swine), and Dolores returned to her long game at the Ministry with a newfound fervor to crush all who dared try to overlook her beneath her pink kitten heels.

Waiting for the next perfect move to present itself. And when it does, she’ll be ready.

plot ideas —

Girlsgirlsgirls. I would love an opportunity to unpack some of Dolores’ deeply rooted internalized homophobia. Maybe it’s an openly gay and proud woman who drives Dolores up the wall, maybe it’s a beautiful lady who despite all of Dolores’ efforts starts to get beneath her skin, someone she can’t seem to shake… This could go in so many directions and I’m here for them all!

Ministry Spats. Anyone she might have dustups with on her Ministry stomping grounds—Arthur Weasley, Alastor Moody, etc. Also anyone with pro-creature leanings and/or sentiments at this stage could greatly inform her later mindset and I would love to have them interact.

extra —

Headcanon: Dolores hates children; she thinks they’re disgusting tiny wastes of breath and absolutely looks down on anyone who has chosen the family plan for their life.

[powerstrangerdacre]

Reputation

Summary: “I… I can’t. You’re… wild.” Is all he could say.

“So… if I wasn’t wild, if I fit the mold of what you think the perfect woman would be for you, then it would be different?”

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warning: alcohol consumption, swearing, Luke being an astronomical asshole, angst with a fluffly ending

Word Count: 7000+

AN: Ello! I’m back!! I know I’ve been gone for so long (I’m sowwy), but I’ve had this in my ‘unedited’ pile for so long and I just couldn’t wait to post it. (It’s still unedited.. so... sorry.)

Thanks so much @theoneanna for pre-reading this for me and seeing if it made any sense haha! Love ya girly!

The moment she opened the door she was met with silence. The kind of silence that made her ears ring, her stomach drop and her head hurt. Though if she thought about it better, the pounding headache that she was experiencing might’ve been the result of one too many champagne glasses. Her bare feet skipped over the cold marble flooring, her expensive Louboutins forgotten by the door. Her dress slipped off her shoulder with one push, falling into a heap on the floor of her overly large kitchen. Soft locks of hair slowly fell on her shoulders as she pulled the last pin from her up-do. She searched the fridge for something that could soothe the harsh burning feeling that moved up and down her throat. Definitely too much champagne.

She made her way to her bedroom, where her king-sized bed waited for her. Her shoulders slumped as she opened the door to see the huge room bathed in soft light from the one lamp that she always kept on. She hated the dark, but she loved being alone. She told herself that it was times like these that made everything worth it. That those short moments where she was alone, were what made all the drama and gossip that came with being ‘Y/N Y/L/N’ worth it.

She threw herself onto the silk covers, relishing in the cold feeling. Sleep soon overtook her.

Her house smelled of money. Large and fancy, everything a normal person would ever dream of. It had everything she needed and more, and yet it somehow made her feel empty, because as much as she told herself that she liked being alone, the moment her eyes opened the next morning, she felt as though the walls were way too big, way too white. The bed was soft and warm where she laid, but shivers overtook her as soon as she moved an inch. Cold. Her room was pretty much empty, except for her bed and her night-stand. It felt foreign. It didn’t feel like her room, even though she knew she had bought the house with her own hard-earned money.

She felt just like her bed, cold and somehow lonely. She hated feeling lonely.

The only thing that made her feel at home was the picture that she still kept close to her, hidden under her pillow. It was old and faded, but it was the thing she held dearest. The only thing that she wouldn’t give up even if all hell broke loose or the sky fell down. She can see it before her eyes, the small smile on his face, the huge grin on hers, the reds and oranges as the sun set behind them. As soon as she pulls it out, she notices the wrinkles and the little ripped corner on the once glossy piece of paper. The reds and oranges aren’t as visible as they used to be. His eyes aren’t as blue as she remembers, but his smile is just as it was imprinted in her memories. Small and bashful, the corners of his lips pushing his cheeks up and making the skin next to his eyes wrinkle. His face looks younger, but not any less handsome than she knows it did last night.

She never imagined seeing him at one of those parties, the ones where all the so-called ‘youngsters’ and ‘trouble-makers’ were invited to. She would’ve never imagined that he would’ve showed up, even if he had been invited, but she could only assume that that one blond friend had dragged him to the celebration.

Of course, those kinds of junctions were her thing. She just loved the loud music and the smell of the alcohol. She just loved the feeling of letting go and not worrying. Who cared about the articles that would most likely pop up the next day? ‘Tom would.’ her mind told her.

She didn’t know how they had drifted so far apart. How they had become so different from each-other when they were literally two peas in a pod only years earlier.

They had met during college, through mutual friends, and they instantly clicked. For a while it was as if nothing could break them apart. They were friends, best friends even, always coming to each-other with joy and sorrow alike. For a while, she thought that he would never leave her. For a while, she imagined herself as an old lady on the porch of a small cottage with him by her side. And for a while, everything seemed to be alright.

They grew closer, long hugs becoming cuddles in the middle of the night while they whispered to each-other. The smiles they shared turned into small kisses at the top of her head, and she relished in the feeling of his lips on her hair. She loved the way his arms felt around her waist. She always felt warm and loved while he was around. So she never bothered to even wonder about what kind of relationship they had formed. It surely didn’t feel like they were friends, but she was sure that they weren’t exactly lovers.

She was young. She was stupid. She expected too much from someone who could give too little.

Tom had always had commitment issues. He was late to everywhere and everything. He would choose one book to read, only to switch to the next in less than a second. He would even have problems picking something to eat. How Y/N had been so blind to it for so long, she didn’t know. But she slowly figured it out when she started seeing him with another girl every week. Of course, it broke her heart to know that her feelings were only one-sided, and her mind and heart kicked into ‘self-preserve’ mode.

She couldn’t exactly pin-point the moment when they stopped talking to each-other, but if she were to try and put some kind of sense as to why, she would say that that’s when it started. She would try and see him less and less, at one point even walking away when she saw Tom on campus. Their cuddles turned into hugs, the kisses on her head to smiles. Their so-called relationship turned to friendship, and then to nothing.

Their lives took different turns as soon as they both graduated.

She loved and hated that picture of them, snuggled so close together with his head atop hers. It showed weakness, and weakness was something that she wouldn’t allow herself to feel anymore. Weakness had no place in her line of work, because if you showed even the least bit of it, the media would feed into it and cause a frenzy. And while she didn’t mind being seen as a ‘wild-child’, she did not like it when people thought she was weak.

So she kept her memories locked inside her mind and heart, just like that picture that was hidden behind the closed doors of her so-called home.

The moment Tom laid his eyes on her, he couldn’t believe it. The party Chris had dragged him to was in full swing, music blaring through the dark room and cigarette smoke wafting through the air. And there she stood, in the middle of it all, champagne glass held high as she whooped with the other half-drunk actors and actresses. He hadn’t seen her in ages, but she looked exactly how he remembered, young and full of life, nothing like his closed-off, tired self.

He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t exactly pin-point the moment he forgot about her. How he could’ve forgotten that warm smile and those kind eyes was beyond him, but he somehow managed to bury the memory of her far in the back of his mind.

His eyes moved over her and he could feel himself growing more and more disgusted with himself for some reason. He didn’t know why, but his stomach churned and turned as he watched her dance with one of her friends. He thought the guy was too close to her. He thought she was way too smiley and happy as she turned around to snake her hands around that assholes neck. He thought he would be a more appropriate dance partner for someone like Y/N.

“Tom? Hiddles!” Chris’s voice pulled Tom from his thoughts as his head whipped into his co-stars direction.

“Sorry. What did you say?” Tom asked, sipping on his glass that had been placed in front of him while he was too busy staring at her.

“It’s alright.” Chris chuckled. “What’s gotten you so entranced?” Tom’s eyes moved in Y/N’s direction unwillingly, allowing Chris to follow his gaze and land on the drunk woman. Chris’s eyes widened with recognition, before turning to look at his friend like he had just grown another head. Chris knew that Tom had a thing for girls that were known to mean trouble, but this was way over his head.

“Really? Y/N?” Chris asked, shaking his head. The girl had a reputation to her, and it wasn’t a good one. No, Y/N wasn’t the best for anyone’s image, and Chris knew that Tom had an image to upkeep.

“It’s nothing,” Tom said, taking another gulp from his glass. Chris sure hoped it was nothing, but he knew Tom way too well to believe him. He knew that look, and it didn’t mean anything good.

Tom thought there would be no way to meet her again. They had managed to stay out of each-others way for so long, why would now be any different?

He opened the door to his new home, headphones in his ears blasting whatever song came next on his Spotify playlist. He stretched his legs and arms before pushing off the ground and slowly building up his pace into a somewhat slow jog.

His eyes were unfocused, his mind racing with thoughts of her. She didn’t seem to notice him. Maybe she had forgotten all about him. Maybe she was as busy if not busier than him, so who could blame her for not remembering an old friend?

It was as if his body had a mind of its own, suddenly scoffing at the thought he planted in his head. An old friend. Yeah right. She hates your guts and you know it.

He could remember it clearly, the way she looked whenever he would show up on campus with a new girl. He knew he was breaking her heart. He knew her feelings, and he knew his feelings, but didn’t do anything about it. She was too wild for him, even back then. He was so sure that there was no way in hell that whatever she wanted to start would end well. So he did what he did best and ended it before it even started.

His mind raced on and on, and soon he was tripping and on his way to have a not-so-comfortable meeting with the ground. A hand grasped his and he was pulled in the other direction, only to have the other person fall on their ass with an ‘Oomph’.

“God, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” Tom asked, only to be met with a pair of Y/E/C eyes.

Y/N and Tom stayed in that position, him crouching over her.

Her eyes studied his face. His eyes as wide as saucers, mouth dropped open in a small ‘o’. She couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips. “Are you going to help me stand, or…?”

His face unfroze at the sound of her voice. It seemed so long since he last heard it, but it still made him feel exhilarated. His lips pulled into a smile and he offered her his hand, pulling her on her feet easily. She hissed as her left foot made contact with the floor, and worry was once again etched on his features.

“Are you okay? Should I take you to the hospital? Wait… I’ll call an ambulance.” One hand was holding her, his other already in his pocket, fishing for his phone when she once again giggled.

“Ever the worrisome one, huh Hiddleston?” Y/N shook her head, remembering all the times he had nursed her back to health after a night of college partying.

His eyes fell back on her figure, and he couldn’t help but scoff. “One of us has to be, Y/L/N,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

They both fell silent. Y/N had always imagined what she would say to him when and if they would ever meet again. But now all of those speeches were forgotten - words caught in her throat, unwilling to make their way past her lips. She just watched Tom, he watched her and all of a sudden they both fell into a chuckle. Then that chuckle turned to laughter and it all seemed to fall back to when they were in college. They both felt like those two fools who didn’t know anything about anything and just had each-other as a back-up.

“You want to go get tea?” he asked.

Her lips pulled into a tight line. Tea with none other than Tom Hiddleston meant more publicity: good for her, bad for him. And as much as she wanted to say yes, she couldn’t. “I don’t think that’s a great idea…”

Y/N expected him to nod, to understand where she was coming from – that she wasn’t good company. But Tom only watched as her eyes fell to the ground. He shook his head. “Let’s go,” he said, startling her into walking with him.

And they walked and talked about all the time they had lost. Tom could see her clearer now, clearer than how he had seen her last night. Her eyes sparkled in the morning light, just like he remembered, but they seemed tired. Tired and somehow lost. He remembers how she used to look at him, with love and adoration. Now she seemed to want to look anywhere but at him. Her eyes wandered through the café, lingering on everything and everyone but him. It annoyed him to no ends, but he knew that he was to blame.

“So I heard about the Loki series. Congratulations.” She smiled as she dared a look at him, her eyes as careful as the sip she took from her steaming cup of tea.

“Thank you, but honestly it’s nothing compared to you. I heard they’re planning another sequel to your movie,” he grinned, “How many has it been now? Three? Four?”

“Actually,” she stopped for a second, sighing tiredly, “I won’t be acting in this one.”

His eyes widened, mind unable to comprehend why she would let such an opportunity go. “I understand if you don’t want to tell me, but why not?”

She shook her head. “I just… felt trapped in that role. I’ve been wanting to try something else and this movie wouldn’t allow for that. I would be playing the same scared heroine waiting for her man to come and save her, and I…” I don’t want to wait for someone to come a swoop me off my feet. “I got bored.”

“Oh…” Tom answered, shaking his head and chuckling slightly.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s just, that’s how you’ve always been. Always so strong and… how do I put it… decided?” He winced at how wrong that sounded.

“You mean hot-headed?” She smirked.

Tom bit his lip, nodding slightly in understanding. Hot-headed suited her. Always walking head first into a situation and worrying about the consequences later. She simply didn’t care about the future, always choosing to live in the present and deal with trouble wherever it came from. “Yeah… hot-headed.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. I’m-too-careful-for-my-own-good.”

“Hey!”

“What?! It’s the truth!” She shrugged.

“Yeah…”

Thick silence enveloped them, making her feel awfully awkward as she stared down at her lap. Maybe it wasn’t her place anymore to make those jokes. Maybe she had gone one step too far, or one step too little. It felt like they were in college while they were talking, just two friends catching up and messing around, but maybe it wasn’t like that anymore. It was clear that they weren’t as comfortable with each-other as they used to be.

Tom didn’t know what to think or what to say. She was right there. She sat in front of him and he simply couldn’t find the words. Should he be sorry for what happened during college? Should he regret pushing her away? He knew he shouldn’t, it had been the right thing do to. Right?

After a week, Tom wasn’t so sure of himself anymore. He wasn’t sure about anything he did anymore. Everything seemed so fake and forced. He slowly felt like he was being, simply put, a phony.

Except when he was around her.

They both knew that it was a bit awkward when they were both in the same room, but it slowly dissipated. He didn’t have to think about what would be the proper thing to say or do when she was around, because she knew him. He knew she knew him, the real him that wasn’t always a polite gentleman. She knew the guy that liked to mess around. The guy who wasn’t always perfect. The guy who wasn’t a “celebrity”. And he knew the girl that she used to be, and still was, but as they met more and more often, she seemed to get more and more lively. She seemed to care even less about reputation and more about the guy who was her friend.

What Tom didn’t expect was how fast his heart was beating every time she hugged or just simply touched him. He didn’t expect to see her with the same eyes that his college self used to. It was like all he had worked so hard to ignore for so long just simply rushed back with a touch of her fingers and a look in his eyes.

He didn’t expect that to happen. And he sure as hell hadn’t planned for it, but now that dreaded feeling was there and he couldn’t get a grip on himself.

“Have you seen this?” Luke entered Tom’s office, throwing a magazine in front of him with a huff.

“It’s good to see you too, Luke,” Tom joked with a light chuckle, not even glancing at what he knew to be another scandal, caused most likely by his late-night drive to a bar with Y/N and Chris.

“Yeah, yeah… Good to see you yada, yada… Now, have you seen this?” Luke placed both hands on Tom’s desk, his face something between a scowl and a look of disappointment.

Tom glanced down and sure as hell, there it was in big bold letters: ‘Eligible bachelor Tom Hiddleston not as eligible as we might have thought?’ A picture of him and Y/N doing shots by the bar was plastered all over the front page. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. What’s wrong with it?” Tom asked.

“What’s wrong with it?!” Luke yelped, trying to control his anger, “Tom, they’re saying that you have an alcohol problem! They’re saying that you’re dating that… that mess, Y/N!” Tom glared up at Luke from where he was still seated, not having it when his publicist talked bad about his friend. But Luke wasn’t having it. “Do you have any idea what she could do to your reputation? She could ruin you in a matter of seconds!” Luke snapped his fingers, as if that would make everything clearer in Tom’s mind. “Like that.” Snap. “And your career and fans would be gone.”

Now, that sentence scared Tom, but not in the way that Luke had meant it. He wasn’t scared of losing acting jobs, because to him those jobs were just that, jobs. He had lost his passion for acting long ago and was doing it because… Why was he still doing it? He didn’t know. Y/N wouldn’t even bother doing something if she wasn’t passionate about it anymore. He shook his head.

Tom wasn’t scared of losing his fans either, because he knew that they were the strongest and most passionate ones out there. Maybe that’s why he was still doing this, for the fans. He was passionate about them, not wanting to disappoint or fail them. Y/N would care about that. He nodded.

Luke watched baffled as Tom was having a discussion with himself, it was clear that the man was slowly going crazy over this girl. “Look, you know I usually don’t care much about who your newest… acquisition is, as long as you keep it private,” Luke sighed, “But this,” he pointed to the magazine laid in front of Tom, “this is not good for you Tom.”

Tom stood up, already annoyed to no ends by the way Luke spoke of him. His newest acquisition? Y/N was not something that he could just… acquire, as much as he wished he could. He had burned that bridge long ago. “Okay Luke, I get it.” Tom sighed.

“No, Tom. You don’t! She’s always seen drunk! She yells at the paparazzi!” Luke said, exasperated. “She might look good, but she doesn’t care about her image.”

That’s exactly why I like her.

“She’s always seen with a new guy! Every damn week! She’s changing you Tom, and it’s not for the better!” Luke finished his monologue, chest heaving and breathing loud. He watched as Tom’s eyes slowly lifted from the magazine, the heartbreak as clear in his eyes as the color of his irises.

“Ok, Luke… I get it. She’s fucked up. She’s emotionally deranged. She’s a whore,” Tom said, eyes angry. “I’ll take care of this, but get out of here before I throw you out,” he snarled.

Luke walked out the door with a sigh, closing it, not expecting what was behind it. She stood there, eyes wild and angry. Y/N shook her head as he scoffed at her, passing by as she simply stuck a foot out, tripping him. Luke fell flat on his stomach, his hands not reacting quickly enough as his nose hit the ground. She knew it was childish. She knew it was just another scandal waiting to happen. She didn’t care.

“You fucking manipulative son of a bitch,” she snarled, shaking her head and walking away from the whole ordeal. Walking away from the building that she now knew as well as the back of her hand. Walking away from two assholes that obviously hit it off just a little too well.

Fucking jackass.

The moment she opened the door she was met with silence. The kind of silence that made her ears ring, her stomach drop and her head hurt. Though if she thought about it better, the pounding headache that she was experiencing might’ve been the result of one too many tears. Her bare feet skipped over the cold marble flooring, her Nikes forgotten by the door. His jacket slipped off her shoulders with one push, falling into a heap on the floor of her overly large kitchen. Soft locks of hair slowly fell on her face as she braced the marble countertop, eyes looking directly to her feet. Her throat itched with the dryness brought by another ridiculously heart-broken cry. She could see the small droplets of water that had made their way from her eyes to the floor. Definitely too many tears.

She made her way to door, a knock pulling her out of her misery, only to be pulled right back in as she saw who was the one knocking.

“What do you want, Hiddleston?” Y/N asked, looking anywhere but at him.

Tom watched as she rubbed the tears away from her face, his face falling instead. “Love, what happened?” He had come here with the decision of telling her that they couldn’t meet anymore, but that was all thrown out of the window as worry for the girl fogged his mind. He hadn’t seen her cry since college.

She looked up at him, lower lip trembling and eyes filling with tears once again. “You wanna know what’s wrong?” she asked and he nodded. “I fucking trusted you! I trusted you to believe in who I am and to not judge me like so many others! I trusted you to not talk behind my back!” She took a deep breath, her chest feeling as though it was being ripped apart. “You wanna know what’s wrong?” Her voice was but a whisper. “I’m fucked up. I’m emotionally deranged. And apparently a whore!”

Tom’s eyes widened. He was the reason she looked so broken. He was, once again the reason why she cried. “I… I…” He had no excuse. He had said all those things. He couldn’t blame it on Luke, it was his mouth that those words had come out of.

“You what, Tom? You’re sorry? You didn’t seem to be sorry back there!” She sniffled, walking backwards as he stepped in and closed the door. “Ever the careful one, huh Hiddleston? Are you scared that they’re gonna see me make a scene? Are you scared that you’ll end up in tomorrow’s gossip magazine? Are you scared that your good name will be tarnished?!” Her voice got louder and louder, her mind racing. “You’re such a fake! Your image is fake! The way you act towards me is fake! Is there anything even remotely true about you anymore?” She sighed. “And to think that I fucking fell for it again. I can’t fucking believe that I’m reliving college right now.”

Tom just stood and took it all in. All her anger and her spiteful words, they hurt, but what hurt most is that she thought he was being fake when he was around her, the only time when he actually felt like himself. “You… you what?” he asked, reaching a hand out to her.

She glared at his hand angrily before slapping it away with a loud smack. “You fucking heard me! I loved you back then! And now I love a fake! God… I’m in love with a phony… I fell for it just like everybody else.” Y/N shook her head, as if not believing the words that just came out of her mouth. “This is just like last time…”

Tom watched her, expression full of surprise and anger. He couldn’t believe it. “You were the one who put space between us! You’re the one who walked away!”

“And what was I supposed to do? Huh, Tom?!” She let the tears flow freely down her face this time, not bothering to stop them. “Stay and watch my heart break as you walked around with another girl?! Did you expect me to do that?! Don’t put all the blame on me, you’re just as much to blame.”

“You… you didn’t say anything…” Tom was astounded by how she put everything out there. She would never have the courage to do that, were they still in college.

“You know… back then I thought that we… I don’t know… understood each-other. I thought you needed me as much as I needed you. I thought that maybe I meant something to you…” Her voice was void of anger, her eyes just seemed sad. “I thought that maybe you would at least try to follow me when I left… But no, of course not!” She scoffed. “As soon as I stopped putting effort towards whatever it was that we had, you stopped caring…”

Tom watched as her body shuddered with every gasp of air that she took. He had broken her. This was what he was scared of… that one of them would break the other. “Of-of course I would… I thought you didn’t care about me anymore. I thought you gave up.”

Her eyes suddenly filled with rage. “Oh I cared! Don’t fucking say I didn’t! I tried and tried but you just didn’t see me!” He couldn’t look at her anymore. It was too hard. “I thought I was stupid to just leave before I said anything about… about my feelings.” A sickeningly broken laugh fell from her lips, the sound making Tom’s skin crawl. “You were stupid,” Tom whispered. He couldn’t help but think that maybe things would’ve gone differently if she had said something back then. Maybe they wouldn’t have been in this position. Or maybe he would’ve just done what he did back then, because that was for the best, right? He didn’t know anymore. His mind was all over the place.

Y/N didn’t hear his whisper, she had no reason to question herself. “But look at me now! Feelings spoken out and still in the same position as I was seven years ago. Still stupid. Still fucking in love with an asshat that won’t even dare try because he’s too afraid.”

“I… I can’t. You’re… wild.” Is all he could say.

“So… if I wasn’t wild, if I fit the mold of what you think the perfect woman would be for you, then it would be different?”

“I… I… no. I can’t return your feelings,” Tom said, his eyes stuck counting the lines in the marble flooring.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because… it would be bad for my image.”

Her breath hitched as he simply contradicted himself. He couldn’t because she was wild, but if she were different then he still didn’t return her feeling because she was bad for his image. They were going in a loop, a broken record playing on repeat again and again and again. He wouldn’t tell her anything. He wouldn’t let her in.

“Okay… I get it. I’m wild and I’m reckless and I’m stupid,” her words caught in her throat, but she forced them out. He needed to hear this. She needed to tell him this or else she would go blaming herself again. “But at least I’m not afraid to show who I really am, at least to the people who obviously care about me! At least I’m not afraid of those fake scandals or the bullshit because whatever happens, I still know who I am! The people I care about know who I am!” she sighed, trying her best to calm herself down, “I thought you knew that too. I thought you were one of those people, Tom. But you aren’t. You’d rather believe your goddamn publicist or what those damn assholes write about me. And you know what? That’s fine by me.” Her eyes cleared and she finally saw it. He looked at her like he was broken. Just as broken as she was, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She would burn this bridge, whether he wanted to or not. “Just… remember. I’m not the one who was afraid. You were.” She stabbed her finger in his chest, looking up at him. “Leave.” Don’t go. Fight. For once, fight. She could feel the burn as he turned around and walked out of the front door. He had made his choice.

He could feel it all, the anger, the disappointment, but most of all he felt the last bridge burn. She had said all that was to be said. She didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

He nursed the glass of whiskey in his hand, feeling foreign in the bar that had become their hang-out.

“What are you doing here?” Chris’s voice came out of nowhere, startling the half-drunk Tom to the point that he almost fell off his bar-stool.

“Nothing,” Tom said, finishing his tenth glass with a tip of his chin.

Chris noticed the bad state Tom was in, he had a feeling why it was happening.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked.

“Gone,” Tom answered with a hiss, as though the word itself was a knife stuck in his chest.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what I wanted.”

Chris’s mouth dropped open so wide that he could’ve been mistaken for the screamer. Tom would’ve found it funny, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood for laughing.

“What?! Why?”

“She was changing me… and I…” Tom whimpered slightly at the words, “I couldn’t allow for that to happen.”

“Oh…” Chris finally took a seat next to his friend, motioning for the bartender to get him a drink. “And she just… gave up?”

“She said she loves me. She told me she was in love with me ever since college. I…” Tom shook his head, “I can’t return those feelings.”

Chris laughed. He laughed as though that was the funniest joke he had heard in years. Tom watched him, simply waiting for him to finish so he could get an explanation.

“You’re either the most idiotic guy I know, or you’re terribly blind, mate.” Tom watched Chris with a questioning gaze, eyes slightly glazed over from how much alcohol was in his system. If only Luke would see him now. “Tom, Y/N… she apparently went through a lot with you. You broke her heart once and she still tired. She’s the one girl that didn’t leave you. The only girl that tried to help you. The only girl that would never break your heart unless you asked her to… sorry mate, but you fucked everything up.”

“She changed me,” Tom stated simply.

“No… she didn’t. You were the one who let loose. You were the one who didn’t put on a face for the press. You were the one who didn’t give two shits and giggles anymore. Sure, she was around you, but you were the one who made those changes. You were the one who changed. Was it all for her?”

No. I was tired. I was tired of hiding.

“No! It was for yourself! Whenever she was around you were like a different man, and I think that that’s who the real Tom is. Not that proper, British ass that wouldn’t let anyone get too close to him.”

“I… I couldn’t tell her that…” I love her. The words just couldn’t form on his lips. “I didn’t want to hurt her. I just… it would end badly.”

“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t, Tom?” Chris asked, taking a sip from his glass. When Tom didn’t answer, he answered for him. “It’s clear that you love the girl! She loves you! Who the hell cares about ‘if’s and ‘maybe’s? Now go do something about it! Don’t fucking mess this up a third time or I swear to God I’ll kick your ass all the way back to England.”

Tom stood up, eyes widening. Chris was right. He… He loved her. He was in fucking love with her and he just couldn’t fucking get over it. It scared him shitless but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to be scared anymore.

He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill, slamming it on the bar. “I have to go. Thanks, mate!” Tom yelled to Chris as he ran towards the exit. It was quiet and far away, but he was sure that he heard Chris say “Whatever man, I expect to get an invitation to the wedding.”

Y/N was sure that she hated feeling lonely, because if she felt lonely then it meant that she was weak. She hated being weak, but as the days past she wanted nothing to do with her friends or the parties they invited her to. She never thought it would be easy, but God was it hard getting over the one guy who she had managed to fall in love with, twice.

Her closed phone laid on her nightstand, the battery long dead since she hadn’t bothered charging it. She hated herself for it, but right now she loved the feeling of loneliness. Sleep soon overtook her.

Her doorbell rang, jolting her out of her light sleep. She looked at the watch, noticing it was three in the morning. With a jolt and a rapidly beating heart, she made her way to the door. She looked at the display that showed her doorstep, seeing him. Her heart and mind stopped racing, but her hand moved on its own accord, opening the door.

Tom sighed watching as she looked at him with tired eyes. Her hair was a mess and she lacked pants, but he could only think that she looked the most gorgeous he had ever seen, one of his shirts hanging loosely from her shoulders.

“Y/N, thank God,” he slurred.

“What are you doing here, Tom?” she asked. She could pick up the light scent of whiskey drifting towards her from him, her nose wrinkled in disgust. She couldn’t even think about ever drinking another drop of alcohol, since it felt like it was the reason for him not reciprocating her feelings.

“Thank God you’re okay. I was so scared.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shifted together into a small frown. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He watched her with happy, glossy eyes. He was just happy to see her, even though her words still made his heart heavy, even in his inebriated state. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I was such an idiot. I pushed you away, thinking that it would spare us. Thinking that that way I wouldn’t lose you. Guess I was the stupid one though, since in the end I still lost you.” Once the words started running out of his mouth, he couldn’t stop. He was vomiting every last bit of his feelings, finally letting her in. “I… I love you. Fuck… I’m so in love with you that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

To say that she was taken by surprise by his words would be an understatement. She was shocked, astonished even, but happiness slowly crept its way in her heart, until “What about your “image”? Aren’t you scared that they would say that your girlfriend’s fucked up? Emotionally deranged? Wouldn’t they say that you’re dating a whore?” she asked with a hiss to the tone of her voice.

Tom squeezed his eyes together. “I’m sorry about that. I could say that Luke kind of coerced those words out of me, but I still said them. I was just… scared. I knew I had fallen for you, again, and I didn’t think you would feel the same. I guess… I was just trying to find a way to stop myself from hurting… But please believe me when I say that I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen. I was an asshole, a jackass, a fucking idiot. But I love…”

Her lips caught his words as they pressed harshly against his, the kiss seven years in waiting. She didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care that he was drunk. She didn’t care about what he had said, she knew from the beginning that he didn’t mean it. She knew that he loved her just as much as she loved him.

He was caught by surprise by the force behind the kiss, lightly stumbling backwards before he steadied himself as his arms wrapped around her frame. God, this felt so right. His hands cupped her cheeks, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. She tasted like candy, mixed with the whiskey that he had drunk. There was nothing more delicious than the bitter sweetness they shared. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders, pushing herself on her toes, trying to mold herself into him. They were still on her porch, but neither of them cared. That moment was perfect, even when they pulled away and their breaths mingled.

“You’ve got bed-head,” Tom snickered.

“You’ve got whiskey-breath,” Y/N smirked.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

“It’s laundry day.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The paparazzi might’ve gotten pictures of them, both looking like literal messes. There might be a scandal the next day, but they didn’t care. They had each-other, and once again Y/N didn’t bother asking what they were, because she knew. She was his and he was hers.