#I am Obsessed with the angsty boi | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mxltifxnd0m · 4 months ago

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mari. mari. MARI!!!

i can’t even begin to describe how obsessed and in love i am with this fic!!

i love love love there’s an empath reader or oc and the dynamics that come from it and you really outdone yourself when it came to this!

UGHH dont get me started on sam. i will never not love how you write sam like iajelakoakdnd im obsessed with how you write him it’s just so *chefs kiss*

oh and i loved the readers plan of how they escaped like yess manipulate the manipulators 🙌🙌

WE GOT SOFT MUSHY SAM! I REPEAT WE GOT SOFT MUSHY SAM!!!

ughh this fic made me feel warm and gushy on the inside and i will be forever obsessed with your fics on sammy, mari!!

but daddy i love him — sam winchester

cw : gn!empath!reader, light angst, fluff, some canon typical violence, demons, mentions of weapons, emotional manipulation/some emotional abuse in reader's past/presence, dean's kinda mean for a bit, kissing, food/drink mentions, poor editing, 11.3K words. listen to but daddy i love him by taylor swift. requested !

summary : you were raised sheltered from the world, but once you meet sam, you come to understand what freedom means. ౨ৎ . . . [ empath : has the ability to read and manipulate anyone's emotions. not the psychology kind lol ]

you’re not a demon, though you’re certainly no angel. in all technically, you suppose that you’re closer to a demon since they used to be human. not that you’d want to be put in the same box as any single demon, but you know that they feel some emotions. angels, you’re told, do not. to you, that’s quite a strange concept. someday, you’d like to meet one to see if it’s true.

and though you are not a demon, you’ve learned very well how to be like one, or at the very least how to feel like one. this is only helpful because your uncle, the demon who raised you (who is not your real uncle, nor related to you at all) wants you to be just like him. that implies being entirely uncaring and mostly unfeeling, with the exceptions for feelings being guiltless, hatred, annoyance, generally anything negative and parallel with aggression, and pleasure in the face of enacting pain or evil things upon somebody else.

having been surrounded by exactly that for as long as you can remember, you have no trouble pretending to be that way. in actuality, you find it totally impossible to embody it in truth. you, opposite to demons, are especially in tune with all aspects of your humanity. this does include the bad, but you’ve spent your life clinging to and longing for the good. plus, you don’t particularly enjoy experiencing the constant negativity that rolls off of most demons and right onto you. although your powers are geared towards other humans and you can’t read or manipulate demons’ emotions as easily, you learned to use your powers on them before anything else.

today, you accompany a crossroads demon, as per usual. your uncle has you trying a new tactic to aid in soul-collection. unfortunately for you, it's been working well and you have to pretend more often than not that your powers are failing you when they’re working just fine. you feel like a door-to-door salesman for guaranteed painful death and torture until one’s humanity is ripped away, all under the guise of pretty or petty dreams come true.

your accompanying demon, russell, is one of your least favorites. you don’t really like any of them, but unfortunately, russell is one of your uncle’s most trusted. you think it’s stupid, because you’re able to tell that he’s a coward and most likely not as trust-worthy as your uncle thinks. personally, you just find him annoying.

russell approaches the next house, knocking on the door as you lag behind. the man at the last house sold his soul in exchange to look ten years younger. not everyone exchanges their lives for such stupid reasons, but when they do, it makes you feel extra disgusted by the work you have to participate in. but for the sake of fooling your uncle, you pretend to enjoy it. someday, you might get away… you just don’t know what you’d do or how you’d survive.

the owner of the house opens the door, and the second she sees you and russell, dressed in suits and smiling all fake, her annoyance and skepticism immediately become apparent to you. your first order of business is to push that away and replace it with openness, curiosity, and a little bit of desire to get her to listen to you. since you “failed” at the first three houses and were successful at the last one, russell expects you to make this one work as well. it takes a bit of concentration to keep everything subtle and slow so that she doesn’t notice anything too strange.

when she greets you, she smiles a little and you know that you were successful. you let russell do all the talking as you continually feed the woman more desire and assuredness. little by little, you tug at her hesitation, pulling it away as russell gives her his pitch.

“anything you could ever dream of for the small price of your soul!” he lies about how small of a price it is and you mask your abundant discomfort. the more and better you do for your uncle, the more he lets you off of your figurative leash. the woman, mrs. hadley, as she introduced herself, is on the verge of saying yes. you’re seated in the living room as she goes on about how her one wish is for her young son to be treated well at school. you debate sabotaging the deal to save her, when the door bangs open and two men burst into the house, both sporting various weapons.

mrs. hadley screams and your concentration snaps. immediately, her fear and confusion wash over you, along with everything else that the two men and russell are feeling. suddenly quite overwhelmed, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment before remembering you’re under threat. russell curses loudly, and when you snap your eyes open, he’s halfway across the room as he sprints full speed for the back door.

“sam!” shouts one of the men, nodding towards you and the frightened mrs. hadley as he takes off after russell. the other man, now dubbed sam, points his knife at you and begins rehearsing a latin exorcism.

“i’m not a demon, i swear,” you say, slowly standing and putting your hands up in surrender. his eyebrows furrow in confusion. you also sense his urgency and protectiveness, but you don’t sense as much aggression in him as you’d expected. the rush of that which you’d felt before must have been from the other man.

“then what are you?” he asks, voice gruff as he slowly approaches, trying to carefully manuever in between you and mrs. hadely.

“i’m human,” you answer, honest but withholding the full truth. “i promise,” you plead, trying to gauge his reaction without actually manipulating his feelings. when sam reaches mrs. hadley, he holds his arm in front of her protectively. there’s still fear and utter confusion rolling off of her.

“wh–what the hell is going on?” she asks, voice panicked.

“it’s alright,” sam reassures, trying to be as gentle as possible. “you just can’t make that deal. it’ll get you killed.”

“what? killed, i– but it seemed– it seemed fine?” you can feel doubt creep into mrs. hadley as well as she questions why she trusted you and russell so much without any real reason.

“trust me, whatever they promised you, it’s not worth it,” sam emphasizes. mrs. hadely goes to speak again, but sam returns his attention back to you. “what are you doing with a demon?”

“i… they have me trapped,” you say in a half-lie.

he clenches his jaw, but most of his distrust subsides because he feels more concerned for mrs. hadley than you. he tucks his knife somewhere accessible, and turns to the woman to comfort her. he tries to explain without too much detail that she should never sell her soul to anyone, but that it’s best if she tries to forget this all. but it’s clear to both you and him that she’s just panicking more and more. you easily read the way that sam wants to help her and it makes you want to do the same.

you mean to just send mrs. hadley a touch of calm and comfort, just so sam can get through to her. but you yourself are panicked and overwhelmed, never having been in such an out-of-control situation, and your strong desire to help her comes out unfiltered and unhindered by your usual careful control when you deal with humans. suddenly, mrs. hadley is grinning from joy, even laughing a little. for a moment, this seems fine to you. you fixed her fear, didn’t you?

but sam turns even more confused and worried. this, in turn, confuses you and breaks your concentration, and she falls back into an even stronger fear as she realizes starkly that she’s been experiencing emotions that aren’t her own.

she bursts into tears. “what– what was that?” she cries. you feel quite overwhelmed by her strong emotions.

you frown deeply. “i– i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to– i mean, i was just trying to help. i didn’t want want you to feel so afraid. i can help, though, i promise. i just– i was distracted and humans can be so sensitive.” you begin to approach with your hands still in the air, but you halt when her fear spikes even more and sam’s hesitance returns in full. they don’t want you near. you consider manipulating both of their emotions, just to get them to allow you closer, but you think better of it at the last second. they might grow even more wary if they notice the change in their own feelings.

“did you do that?” sam asks.

you deflate in guilt. “i’m sorry,” you say again, filling your voice with sincerity, “i didn’t mean to scare you,” you look at mrs. hadley, then proceed carefully, “but i can help, just a little, i won’t do anything crazy– i– i can’t do anything crazy, i promise. and i can make sure that no one ever bothers you again. you don’t have to let me close if you don’t want me to, but i really can help. just to… to calm things down a little and– and leave a little room for you to process. or, of course, i can just go and you’ll never see me or that guy again.” you look between sam and mrs. hadley, trying to calm yourself so you can get a proper read on both of their emotions without overloading yourself with all the information. mrs. hadley is just about as confused and scared as before, but you think that sam’s reassuring presence is helping her. you’re not so sure that your words have done anything to help. sam himself is still hesitant, but as some of his wariness slips away, you think he might be willing to hear you out or at least let you go unscathed.

“oh, you’re not going anywhere,” comes a gruff voice from behind you, along with the kiss of cold metal on the back of your neck. it’s a gun, you presume. you slowly lift your hands back up, having forgotten about the other man’s presence when he disappeared to take care of russell. you turn your attention to his feelings instead of the other two in case you need to use your powers to try and save yourself. he’s got aggression, calm anger, and a whole lot of protectiveness practically spilling out of him. he thinks you’re dangerous. he’s not necessarily wrong, but you really aren’t a danger to them, not unless you have to be.

“i’m telling the truth, i swear. please, just– just let me go.” you keep your voice steady, but pleading, trying not to let on just how scared you are but also appeal to their sympathy. you’re in danger, something that you’re completely unused to despite the way you grew up all around it.

“and let you get back to those demon bitches? not a chance. what even are you?” the man’s voice is unforgiving as he digs the gunpoint further into your skin, pressing for answers. you wince.

“dean, wait,” sam interrupts, “i don’t think they’re trying to hurt anyone,” he says, trying to reason before dean gets any more violent.

“sam, they’re clearly working with demons. i think that qualifies as trying to hurt people. we don’t even know if they’re human,” dean counters.

you’re about to speak again in your own defense when a familiar voice fills your ears.

“it’s always you boys, isn’t it? i should have known that the winchesters would crash my little soul-collecting party,” your uncle drawls.

“crowley,” sam growls, and you’re suddenly flooded with his anger.

your uncle completely ignores sam in favor of dean. “i kindly ask that you let my sweet pet go, squirrel.”

dean turns around, pulling you with him. “so they’re with you?” dean asks, voice accusatory.

“they are. and if you don’t hand them over, i will knock you out cold without a second thought. your choice, of course, darling,” crowley quips. you’re highly confused. the three clearly know each other, but your uncle has never mentioned anyone like the “winchesters” before. dean grows even more suspicious of you, sam confused and worried, and you know very well that crowley is only barely covering up his total anger. he’s anything but pleased to have found you in this situation.

“tell me why, and i’ll hand them over,” dean bargians, not realizing just how much he’s pissing crowley off. your uncle doesn’t even wait to answer before sending dean flying across the room and grabbing your wrist.

“let’s go,” he grumbles, tugging you along with him. you glance back at sam, who moves forward, trying to stop crowley until he too gets flung into the wall.

“uncle!” you shout in protest. “wait, i need to–”

“absolutely not,” he shouts back, “what the hell were you thinking? how’d you mess up a simple deal so horribly?”

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, suddenly remembering yourself. he’ll only grow more angry if you continue to protest.

“damn those winchesters,” he grumbles to himself. as he drags you home, he continually complains about them, cursing that you got mixed up with them and pounding into your head that you should never, ever get involved with the winchesters.

⟢⟢⟢

honeybee cafe is just about the only solace that you have. it’s away from your uncle and the other demons, the place you always come when you’re allowed out without supervision. on top of that, it’s small and quiet, and you never visit during crowded hours. technically, you’re required by crowley to stay somewhere with other people so you can practice your powers on them. you picked this cafe for it’s cozy, quiet atmosphere, and the general lack of patrons from one to three pm. that way, you’re never overwhelmed by too many emotions. it’s usually just you, another regular or two, and the few workers. maybe it’s a little odd, but you feel secretly close with the people whose emotions you tune into over and over again. and you certainly don��t manipulate their emotions as crowley likely wishes you would.

you always sit in the corner furthest from the door, facing the rest of the small shop so that you can keep an eye on anyone who comes in or chooses to stay inside. sitting with your favorite beverage and a book you picked up from the library beforehand, you relish the comfort and warmth of the sunlight coming in from the window behind you. your room at home has no windows, and that just about kills you. you love windows.

only the soft tinkle of the bell on the cafe door interrupts the focus you lend to the book in front of you, and you look up on instinct. your breath catches in your throat as you immediately recognize the man who walks in. he doesn’t notice you, but you watch him as he orders a coffee. as he waits off to the side, you turn slightly, and you’re too late to cast your eyes down before he catches your gaze. his face lights up in recognition and surprise. he takes a step towards you before he’s interrupted by the barista’s call of his name. quickly, he takes the cup from their hand and thanks them before turning back to you. you weren’t planning on speaking to him, not after your strange first encounter and crowley’s warnings against him, but you feel an odd sort of relief when it becomes clear that he wants to approach you, to talk to you. he had left an impression on you when you’d met. he’d just seemed so… good.

his eyes flicker around the cafe as he comes closer, likely looking for signs of demons.

“i’m alone,” you assure him, smiling carefully as he gets close enough. he nods, slowly sitting across from you when you nod at the seat. “though i have to be back by evening or someone will come looking for me,” you explain, mouth forming a small frown as you think about it. he’s confused and concerned as he looks at you, and it feels sort of nice to guess that he’s maybe worried about you.

he seems unsure of what to say, so he just jumps right into it. “i never caught your name. i’m sam winchester, though i’m sure you got that before. can i ask… are you an empath? i did some research since we last met.” he gives you a tense sort of smile, not because he’s nervous, but just because this second meeting feels very awkward.

you nod and give him your name before anything else. “and yes, i am an empath,” you confirm, unsure if you should explain further or not. he seems to understand well enough.

he’s a bit more hesitant the next time he speaks. “and can you explain your… situation? you said you were trapped, and crowley seemed very possessive of you… but i thought i heard you call him uncle? whatever it is, i can help you get away from him, my brother and i have dealt with crowley too many times to count.”

his immediate offer to help and instinct to suggest you just leave crowley are both sort of overwhelming to you, but a part of you likes his words.

“oh. i– well, it’s complicated. crowley, he’s– he’s sort of my only family.” sam’s eyebrows raise a little in questioning. “we’re not actually related, or anything, but he raised me. he’s– well, he’s taught me everything i know and… i can’t– i can’t really leave. besides, he’s really not all that bad,” you try to excuse, suddenly feeling oddly defensive in a way that you can’t really explain. “and i get days to myself like this, i– i have my freedom, i just… before, i didn’t want you to think i was trying to hurt people, or that i like to, but uncl– crowley doesn’t really know… that i don’t like the things that he… that he asks me to do for him.”

suddenly, this wave of sad understanding rolls over you from sam, and you’re not sure why. his face doesn’t change much as he listens, but to you it seems like he thinks you’ve said something so sad.

“but it’s alright,” you quickly try to amend, “he thinks i’m weaker than i really am. that way he doesn’t suspect when most demon deals i’m a part of fail. i have to… i have to get some to work so that he thinks i’m trying, but i promise i try to hurt the least amount of people possible. and.. and he still lets me have my days out when the deals fall through. i botched two yesterday, but i’m still here, aren’t i?” you attempt at sounding lighthearted, but sam’s sadness doesn’t go away much. instead, you just feel compassion blooming from him as well.

“i understand,” he says kindly, “i didn’t think you were trying to hurt people. i believe you.” he’s completely sincere and you realize that that’s not something you’re too used to from almost anybody you talk to.

“thank you,” you sigh in relief, smiling and trying to show him that you’re sincere too. “your brother? dean?” sam nods. “he didn’t believe me,” you state.

sam cringes a little. “he can be like that. he–” he purses his lips, looking for the right words, “he doesn’t trust very easily. he’s very suspicious of people he doesn’t know.”

“i don’t think he really thought i was a person,” you say, starkly honest in a way that surprises sam for a moment. you don’t quite understand what his surprise was for, but he quickly shoves it away before you can ask about it.

“he’s– he’s working on that. i’m sorry he made you feel that way,” sam says, truly feeling apologetic.

“well, i didn’t feel that way. just him. i know that i’m a person,” you smile, trying to reassure him and wishing he didn’t feel sorry.

sam smiles back a little. “right,” he nods, “well, i’m still sorry he thought that way about you. he’ll come around.”

“thank you, sam. but you don’t have to feel sorry, it’s not your fault he felt that way,” you assure, completely sincere and trying to work out why sam would feel sorry about something he didn’t cause, nor that he agrees with. he’s already proved himself to be kind and believing enough.

“sure,” he agrees, trying to figure out the right way to explain what he means as he begins to understand how truly sheltered from normal human interaction you’ve been. “but i know how it feels to have someone doubt how human you are and that it’s not a good feeling. so i’m just sorry and empathetic that you had to experience that.”

you nod in understanding. “ah, well, that’s kind of you… you’re right. it wasn’t the most pleasant thing to feel, but i understand that dean was feeling sort of afraid and definitely mistrustful. you didn’t really find me in the most trustworthy position. but if i meet him again, i hope you’re right that he’ll come around. i really am just a person, but i get that i’m, you know, not one hundred percent normal. really, empathy’s a very human thing, mine’s just… exaggerated, i guess.” you look at him, head cocked to the side in confusion. “but you, sam? why would someone doubt how human you are? you feel things just like a human.”

sam gives you a half smile. there’s a tinge of bitterness when he answers, but the way he talks and feels makes it seem as though time as softened most anger or sadness. yet, it also feels as though he’s never really talked about this much.

“i used to have psychic powers. i’d have visions, these premonitions before people died.” he explains it as something so casual, and he’s trying to feel that way about it, but he really seems to care. “in a way, i was barely different from you. of course, i’m still not. we’re both people.”

“really?” you ask, curious, “i didn’t know other people had that sort of thing. and your powers? they’re gone now?”

“it seems like it. i haven’t had a vision in a long time,” he answers.

“you seem relieved by that,” you note. sam picks up on the tinge of sad disappointment in your voice.

“i am,” he answers honestly, “but not because it’s bad to have those sort of powers. i just didn’t really enjoy getting visions of people dying violently.” he gives you a tight-lipped smile to show you he’s okay being lighthearted about it all.

you relax. “right, of course. that must have been hard,” you give him a small, kind smile, “i can feel that it was hard. i’m glad you don’t have to go through that anymore.” you’re all sincerity, and sam smiles right back.

“can i ask what it’s like for you? to have these powers?” he asks, careful and kind. he wonders if you get headaches or terribly tired of feeling other people’s emotions all the time, but he doesn’t want to make you talk about it if you’d rather not.

you’re slightly taken aback by the question, and not because you don’t want to talk about it. you just never really have at all before. you realize the simultaneous oddness and loveliness of this conversation. not once have you spoken about your powers with another human before, much less one who has some understanding about them.

“well… i guess i’ve never really thought about it much. just because i’ve never known anything else. i honestly don’t remember much from when i was young, but crowley’s been teaching me how to use them for as long as i remember. it’s both better and worse with practice, i guess. and the way i learned was kind of odd.” you pause, unsure if sam wants to really hear about it all. but he gives you an encouraging nod and you feel genuine interest coming from him, so you continue.

“i started learning with demons, but they feel a whole lot less than humans do. and i can’t feel or manipulate their emotions as easily or strongly since my powers are geared towards humans. but since that’s how i learned, it’s decently easy now, though it technically takes more effort than it does for humans. now i’m practicing on people, and it’s sort of too easy. it takes much more control because i’m used to exerting more power on demons. and humans feel things much more strongly, and are much more sensitive to change. i’ve gotten much better, but if i’m distracted or overwhelmed, my control slips. that’s what happened with mrs. hadley.” suddenly, you remember her. “is she okay?” i made things worse for her, didn’t i? you think.

“she’ll be alright,” sam says. “she was shaken up, but she was doing much better when i left. don’t worry too much about her.”

you almost want to ask again, if she’ll really be okay, but it seems that sam will most likely give you the same answer he just did. “okay,” you relent. then you realize you did more explaining about how your powers work than what it’s like for you. “to really answer your question; it’s my norm, and i’m not sure what it would be like without them. but sometimes i think it might be nice if i didn’t have them. i would’t have to help the demons, and it can be… overwhelming. i’m used to the demons; their emotions are easier to tune out. but with people? well, they just feel a lot. of course, i’m used to my own feelings, but to feel that, plus everything else around me, especially when someone could be feeling so much all at once is just… it can be a lot. i’m learning how to tune it out, but honestly, i’m still figuring it all out.”

sam thinks you look a little embarrassed when you finish, and he certainly doesn’t want you to feel that way. “that makes sense,” he reassures, “i barely had any control over my own powers. i can’t imagine how difficult it is to be in control of something so complicated and fickle as emotions. most people can barely deal with their own emotions. being able to feel everyone else’s too can’t be easy at all.

you nod in simple agreement. “it isn’t. but i’m also glad for it. sometimes, unc– crowley has me use it for his, you know, demon things, and i don’t like that. but i think my powers are part of the reason why i’m able to hate it. i’m so connected to humanity, the good and bad in everything that people feel, that no matter how i grew up, i’ll always have empathy in its rawest form. and though i don’t get too many chances, and i mess it up sometimes, i can help others when i’m away from the demons. last week, there was this girl in here,” you smile lightly at the memory as you begin to recount it to sam, “she was smiling and nice to everyone, but i could feel how just sad she was. i paid for her drink and told her she looked pretty, and the way that it made her feel… i didn’t even have to use my powers. she was just so grateful and happy that she teared up. and i barely did anything at all. that’s what keeps me going,” you say, completely honest, “knowing that i can help and that it’s my choice when i do it.” you feel like some huge weight has been lifted from your chest. you’ve never said this all aloud, and certainly not for someone else to hear. but something about sam and his sincerity and goodness makes you feel comfortable enough to say almost anything at all.

sam looks at you with a sort of admiration and total understanding, and that alone is almost enough to overwhelm you. it seems like, in all your experience in feeling, sam is showing you more, all by himself and without even trying. to be understood, so fully in so little time, is not something you’d ever felt for yourself before.

“i know what you mean,” he says, and you absolutely believe him. you want to know him, more than you’ve ever wanted to know anybody. you want to know all about what he feels and why and what he likes and how he knows what you mean without being able to read your feelings like you can his. and you know that he feels just about the same way you do. he wants to know you just as much as you want to know him.

and so you talk and talk and talk until you realize that the sun is dipping low in the sky because you begin telling him how much you love windows. then it’s a sort of frenzy; you’re worried you’ll be caught and try to leave right away, but sam catches your wrist, his calloused hand so gentle on your skin. he asks for your number, but you don’t have a phone, so you tell him to come back at the same time next week if he can. then you rush out and he watches you go.

the next week, sam appears in the cafe doorway at 1:24 pm, and he looks all soft when you smile at him wide. before you have to go again that day, he hands you a cheap phone with both his and dean’s contact already in place. he tells you it’ll make things easier because he might not be able to make it again next week. he doesn’t know when he’ll be on a hunt or not. then he tells you not to call dean unless it's a true emergency; dean still isn’t sure about you.

when you go, you forget to ask him how to use it. so, when he texts you on thursday to tell that he’s on a hunt, and might not make it to your meeting spot on sunday, you’re very unsure what you’re supposed to say. figuring out how to use the phone itself isn’t difficult, but you’re unaware that your simple response of “that’s okay.” is a bit bare-boned and dry in response to his kindly worded message. over time, you get used to how sam talks over text and learn how to emulate it.

and when sam calls you for the first time, you’re completely taken aback. you’d seen people talking over phone calls many times, but you’d never actually done it yourself. you accidentally hang up on him four rings in, but he calls you back a moment later. your surprise is delighted when you hear his voice through the speaker. then you discover it’s just like a demon call without all the blood involved. you also discover that, while you can pick up on emotions from his voice, you can’t really use your powers at all through the phone.

he regretfully interrupts your long spiel about the different pastries you’ve tried from honeybee cafe, telling you he has to go. you ask why, confused that you can’t just keep talking since you’re now able to through the phone. you love talking to him, and you think he enjoys it too. then he tells you that he was just calling to see if you could meet a different day this week, like he asked at the beginning of the call, and that dean expects him to be doing research for a case right now. you ask why he didn’t just text like normal, why he’d call if he didn’t want to keep talking.

“i do want to keep talking,” he reassures, “it’s just that i don’t have the time right now, but i thought calling might be a little easier than texting this time around. but i can call you again later tonight?”

“okay,” you respond, happy enough with that solution. after that, you call him any time you have something to say. he laughs to himself, completely endeared when you call him to tell him that you saw a very cute cat, then hang up seconds later before he can even respond.

eventually, you come to learn that he can’t actually pick up most of the time, but he tries to as much as possible, and that calling is nicer when you both have the time to actually sit down and talk. as you get to know sam, you learn many, many things along with all the questions he answers about himself.

most amazingly, you learn what it feels like to fall in love with someone fast, and what its like for them to fall right in love with you too. whatever connection that you and sam felt the first few times meeting each other very easily and naturally turns into love. there’s this tug between the two of you, pulling you closer to each other every time you meet. his hand brushes over yours and you smile at him brightly, and you constantly think about each other when you’re apart.

sam tries to take things slow, feeling a little bit like he’s taking advantage of you and your sheltered past. but you know what you want, what you feel, and what he feels too. he wants you just as much as you want him, and you see no reason not to give each other just that.

and it’s so glorious, because you don’t have to read his emotions to know that he loves you back. he makes it so abundantly clear with the way that he acts around you, the way that he looks at you, and the way that he kisses you. you’ve learned that you’d do just about anything for him. you’ve learned how to feel this wild joy that you didn’t know how to feel before.

and it’s true that you’ve learned other, less pleasant things. you hate aiding demon deals even more than you thought. you’ve begun to think that, maybe, almost everything crowley’s raised you to view as the facts of the world, aren’t nearly as true as you thought. you’ve learned that maybe you don’t really owe him so much for raising you or teaching you to use your powers, and you’ve thought the scary thought that he might’ve done it all just to use you. you’ve learned that you should be able to do anything you’d like without having to fear the king of hell’s wrath. that you want to, probably should, get away from crowley, and that feeling like you don’t have a choice isn’t healthy or good for you at all. you’ve learned that you’re still too scared, but you’d rather be with sam, and that every day you spend with him, you become braver.

you’ve also found out that loving in secret can be hard, and that you want to see sam all the time, not just the times when both of you can sneak away. apparently, dean’s still having trouble “coming around” to the idea of you. he doesn’t know that sam’s yours and you’re his. he’s worried that you’re manipulating sam in caring about you, but sam’s reassured you that his love for you is the realest thing that he feels. you couldn’t be more grateful for the fact that he trusts you so much.

he trusts you so much that every weekend possible, he meets you in the cafe or the nearest motel and you spend hours just talking or laying in comfortable silence together.

he always books the room with the best view from the window and opens the curtains before you get there so that the sunlight bathes the room in warmth and light. today, the late afternoon light is especially pretty, tinted orange and casting a bright hue over yours and sam’s skin as you lounge in the bed together.

his arm is wrapped around your shoulders, both of you propped against the wall with several pillows. you hold his other hand, playing with his fingers and relishing in the feeling of his pretty nose against your cheekbone. because he can’t resist you, he likes to keep his face as close to yours as possible so that it’s very easy to kiss you. his lips will brush against your cheek constantly, and other times he lifts his hand from your upper arm to gently nudge your face closer to his so that he can seal his lips over yours.

you’ve already talked about lots of things today; the best toppings on salad, sam’s most recent case, the symbolism of rhododendron flowers in the book you finished three days ago, and surely more. but the last hour has been quiet, filled with more rustling of blankets, soft sighs, and occasional whispers more than anything else. you’re content, and sam is too, for the most part. often, you try not to be reading sam’s emotions, but spending so much time with him and being so close to him has put you almost irrevocably in tune with his feelings, and you can feel that something’s nagging at him. it’s both good and making him nervous at the same time, but you don’t say a word. you wait for him, until he’s ready to say whatever it is.

it’s when he presses another kiss to your temple that he speaks, voice a more steady volume rather than a whisper this time. “honey?” he says like a question, signaling to you that he’s got something to say, maybe something important that he wants to ask.

“yes, love?” you respond, trying to sound receptive to whatever it is he wants to talk about.

“i, uh, i asked dean if he’d try and meet you, and i managed to convince him. he– he doesn’t know that we’re together, love, but i told him i ran into you again. i think… i think he probably suspects that there’s more to it than that, but he hasn’t said anything about it and i’m taking that as a good sign. would you be okay trying to meet up with him?” he asks, careful and tentative. you can tell that he’s scared to interrupt the balance of things, but that he really wants this. you know how much he hates hiding this all from dean.

“of course,” you assure him quickly. you want the same as him. you don’t want to have to stay furtive and distant from sam so much. but you also have a question. “are we… going to pretend? you know, not to be together?”

sam’s face falls a little at that thought, and at the hint of sadness in your voice when you ask. “i don’t want to,” he starts.

“but you’re nervous,” you gently interrupt.

“a little,” he admits, giving you a small smile, “but i was going to say that it’s up to you. dean could… i don’t know, freak out and i don’t want you to have to worry about that if you don’t want to.” you nod at his words, feeling a bit embarrassed at your interruption. while you try not to let your ability to discern his feelings dictate exactly how you interact with him, you’re still learning that sometimes what someone feels doesn’t always let you predict what they want to say. and of course, he’s sincere about his concern for you, as always.

“well,” you consider his words seriously, “maybe we don’t have to tell him out right, but if he asks? we don’t have to lie?”

“of course, honey,” he nods, “i’d never lie about being with you if he asked directly,” he promises, sealing it with a chaste kiss to your lips. if there’s one thing you know, it’s that sam is proud of loving you, and one of his least favorite things it’s having to hide it. he wants dean to know, he just doesn’t want him to say something scathing to you or try to keep him away from you.

“okay,” you smile. you understand his hatred for hiding it and his nervousness well. you’d be more nervous than he is now about crowley discovering what you’re doing and who you’re meeting with when you’re out on your own. “but you don’t have to worry, sammy. we’ll try to keep him from asking unless he’s reacting well. if he’s still too suspicious, i’ll know and make sure we won’t act in a way that will make him ask. we have time,” you assure.

now sam feels conflicted, because he’s both relieved by your reassurance and sorry you’d have to hide that he’s yours and you’re his. then he’s suddenly hit by this desire to hide anything at all. he doesn’t want to hide from dean or let the way that dean feels get in the way of him seeing and loving you whenever he wants. he wants to show dean just how good you are and how good you are for him.

“thank you,” he says sweetly, “but i don’t want to keep hiding it from him, not for any longer. you’re too important to me for that.”

you want to melt right into him. “you’re important to me too, sam. really, really important. we’ll do this on your time, yeah? whatever you want.”

“yeah,” he smiles, “and we’ll do other things on your time, and others on ours,” he says assuredly.

you give him a nod as he reminds you that he’s by your side as you build up the courage to get away from crowley. sam has always been cautious about the topic, never saying too much until it was you who brought it up. the first time you told him you’d been thinking about escaping crowley, about realizing you don’t owe him your service or that he doesn’t treat you well, you had felt this surge of pride rush off of sam and onto you. outwardly, he was gentle and quietly encouraging, and he’s been just that since. he reminds you that you should do things at your own pace, but he’s there to do everything he can to help you. the more time you spend with him, the readier you are to stay with him, and just him. unlearning the things that you’ve had beaten into your head for as long as you can remember is nowhere near easy, but it’s undeniably better with sam by your side.

and less than a week later, you’re nervous and wishing for that exact comfort as you wait for him and dean to meet you in the cafe. you sip on your usual order, glad for its familiarity. after ten long minutes, your head shoots up at the sound of the door’s little bell ringing, signaling the arrival of sam and dean. dean walks in first, eyes scanning the small coffee shop until he sees you. you try not to look too nervous as you stand and send him an amicable smile.

you glance at san as he comes up from behind dean, giving you a reassuring smile. the sight of him relaxes you a bit, though you’re so in tune with his emotions by now that his own nervousness immediately washes over you. as dean approaches you try to get a read on his emotions as well. he’s less hostile than you expected, moreso careful, defensive, and begrudging. there’s also a hint of willingness along with it all, and you cling to that. there’s even some trust thrown into the mix, though you assume that it’s reserved only for sam.

“hi,” sam says kindly as he and dean take the seats across from you. you sit along with them.

“hi, sam,” you answer, reciprocating his friendly smile. “hi, dean,” you then say, turning your head to look him in the eye.

“hi,” he echoes, voice gruff. he settles his elbows onto the table top, trying to look casual and at ease, like he’s the one in control of the situation. “let’s, uh, skip the pleasantries. sammy here tells me that we should be protecting you from crowley. i don’t trust you and i’m not convinced you even need protection at all, given that you were helping him with his little demon deals. i’m also not convinced that you’re not using your freaky powers to make him trust you.”

“dean,” sam hisses. you feel a spike of anger from him when dean uses the word ‘freaky.’

“it’s okay,” you say, smiling a little at sam. you honestly appreciate dean’s frankness. “i understand that. i know we didn’t meet in ideal circumstances. i might not trust me either if i were you. and i’m honestly not sure exactly how i can convince you to, but i’d be grateful if you’d let me give it a shot.” dean looks completely skeptical. “without my powers, of course,” you rush to assure him.

“and i’ll know that how? you can literally change the way that i feel. it’s not really a good look for you,” he points out, earning a glare from sam that he completely ignores.

“you’re not entirely wrong,” you acknowledge, “but that’s a lot easier said than done. first of all, the effects of my powers are only temporary. i can only use my powers on you when i’m around you and focused enough. aside from that, you’d most likely be able to tell if i did use them.” dean raises his eyebrows in suspicion, so you go one to explain further. “you’re aware of what i can do, and you’re rightfully wary about it. that means you’ll most likely pick up on even minute changes in your emotions that i make. when you’re aware like that, you can overpower me. my abilities are strong, but frankly, authentic human emotions are stronger. long story short, i can’t do much at all to you. and while sam’s less wary than you to begin with, he’s still aware enough that the same applies to him. either of you would know and be able to overpower my hold on your emotions if i tried anything. the most i can do is get a read on what you’re actually feeling.”

dean still looks skeptical, but you sense a bit of his unease being to slowly slip away. “how do i know you’re telling the truth?” he demands.

without a word, you send just a small wave of trust and comfort through him. for a moment, he relaxes, but just as quickly, his scowl deepens and his own distrust replaces your influence. your affect on his emotions is easily pushed away.

“that’s what it would feel like if i were trying to get you to trust me with my powers. that was about as subtle as i can be with emotional manipulation, and you still noticed. all i can do is tell you that you’re still skeptical, but a little less than when you walked in here. and i can hope that means that you’d be willing to hear me out. i really, honestly could use the help.” you add as much sincerity to your voice as you can, relying on almost all logic to convince him.

dean scowls even more when you mention his feelings and read them accurately, but he does seem to realize that you read a whole lot more than what you actually said aloud. he also can’t say that he thinks you’re lying. it was easy for him to pick up on your influence. almost immediately. “fine,” he grumbles. “no promises, though.”

you nod, relaxing a bit despite his words being less than kind. “that’s fine,” you accept. “thank you.” you glance at sam, suddenly feeling unsure. he gives you a sweet nod and smile and you take a deep breath before forging on. “i don’t know how much sam told you about my… situation. but… for a long time i just didn’t really know i had any other option than to stay with and help crowley. and you don’t have to believe me, but, for the record, i really don’t enjoy helping him. but i think that he’d freak out if i left. and maybe send an army of demons after me, which i do realize would be highly inconvenient for you…,” you trail off, feeling more and more nervous. you take a deep breath to recollect yourself and give your full explanation as to why dean should be compelled to help you.

“but crowley’s also bound to find out that i’m holding my powers back and purposely sabotaging his demon deals. and let’s just say that nobody wants that. he wants my powers and i don’t know what lengths he’ll go to to get them. so… if you help me, you’ll be keeping my powers out of the hands of the king of hell, which means slowing down his demon deals and making sure i’m not doing whatever evil demon-y things you think that i might.”

you can see dean contemplating, sense his feelings shifting. he intertwines his fingers and looks at sam with a raised eyebrow. sam nods, his expression completely serious. dean turns back to you.

“alright,” he says, “this is nowhere near the worst deal we’ve ever made. we’ll take you with us, keep crowley and his demons at a distance, and you can get out of our hair and onto your own life once things settle down. sound good?” he asks the question like he’s already made the final decision.

“thank you,” you sigh, shoulders sagging in relief. it’s not perfect since he still doesn’t know that you’re totally in love with sam and he’s totally in love with you, but it’s a better start than just about anything else. then it suddenly hits you that you’ll really be walking away from crowley, and that scares you. sam manages to catch your gaze. he looks at you with a hint of concern, but also relief as well. you can see him asking with his eyes, should we tell him? it’s you that gives him an encouraging nod this time. if you want, you’re saying.

he gives you a smile, and you know it means that he’s going to tell dean, right here, right now. you’re about to smile right back, but your gaze catches on movement behind him. your face drops, and you feel the blood drain from it. you don’t catch sam’s worried look that he gives you before he twists in his seat to see what you’re looking at. everyone reacts just a little too late, and crowley slides into the seat beside you.

“well, hello boys! darling,” he looks at you pointedly before turning back to the brothers. “not quite the trio i expected to find today! or ever, considering the fact that i expressly ordered you to stay away from the winchesters, isn’t that right, darling?” he doesn’t even look at you, but you cringe away from him slightly. a wave of protectiveness rolls off of sam as he clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to pull you right away from crowley.

you avoid crowley’s question entirely. “what are you doing here, crowley?”

“crowley? what happened to uncle? you’re breaking my heart, darling,” he drawls, faking a dramatic offense. “just because it’s one of your free days doesn’t mean i can’t visit you, does it? especially not when i get a report that the winchesters are headed inside your favorite cafe. as your caretaker, i was very alarmed. these two are quite dangerous, you should know.”

sam looks at you carefully, wanting to speak up for you, but not wanting to say what’s yours to say or decide what’s yours to decide.

“i’m leaving with them,” you say to crowley, blunt and too scared to force out any words that aren’t simple. “i don’t want to keep helping you collect souls.” pride and relief wash over sam. it feels good to sense.

but crowley’s anger is the opposite. he’s red-hot mad. “after everything i’ve done for you, you’re going to try and leave with the bloody winchesters?”

“i never asked you to do anything for me. it’s not like any of it was ‘for me’ anyway. it was all for your own gain. sam’s done more for me than you ever did.” you let that last sentence slip out without trying, but you find yourself too angry to be in complete control of the things you say. angry, and afraid.

both dean’s and crowley’s eyebrows shoot up. “sounds like you’ve been spending time with dear sam now, have you?”

you swallow, biting the inside of your cheek before speaking. “i– i have. and i’ve learned much more important things from him than i have ever did from you. so you can just give this up and make things easy. i’m not going back with you.”

“i raised you,” crowley growls. “do you know how much i hate children? but i still raised you, taught you to use your powers and made you stronger than you ever would’ve been without me. what the hell could this giant twat have done for you that’s better and more important than that? and don’t dare say something horrible like love. have you never considered the power that you’d have by my side? clearly you learned nothing of loyalty! you’re completely thankless and a complete dimwit if you thought i was going to just let you go. i’m taking you back, whether you like it or not, and you’ll stay in your room until i’m positive you won’t set foot near dearest dean or your stupid, freakishly tall boyfriend. is that understood?”

“no,” you choke out, reaching for sam’s hand across the table. crowley looks like he’s about to explode. dean quickly puts his hand out to interrupt.

“we’re getting stares,” he says, “we can take this outside.”

“no,” sam counters, standing and pulling you up with him, guiding you to stand by his side. “we’re gonna go. and you’re not following, crowley, unless you want my demon blade shoved up your ass.”

“do i look like i care about stares?” crowley seethes, standing and grabbing your other wrist. you yank at his hold to no avail, and sam moves to break his hold as on you he continues to speak. “i will toss both of you winchesters and everyone else in this godforsaken place across the room until you’re all knocked out cold, if that’s what it takes.”

“let me go,” you insist, voice almost a snarl, right as sam tells him to get his hands off of you.

crowley ignores you, even as you struggle against his iron grip. “you first, moose,” he says through gritted teeth.

the second that dean steps closer to the three of you to intervene, crowley flicks his free hand and sends dean crashing into the farthest wall. a few disjointed screams ring through the cafe and spikes of fear wash over you from all the innocent civilians. sam’s anger grows by tenfold and all of it has you squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. you know that crowley wasn’t bluffing when he threatened everyone in the cafe, so you untangle your hand from sam’s and stretch your arm out in front of him before he can lunge at crowley.

“it’s okay, sam,” you say, voice surprisingly calm. you stop struggling and sam looks at you with such desperation and pleading that you almost want to let him fight. but you don’t want him or anyone else hurt. “i’ll be okay. and i’ll be back.”

“no, don’t do this,” sam starts. crowley doesn’t wait for you to answer as he begins dragging you away. you stumble more than once, looking over your shoulder to see sam start after you. “you don’t have to do this.”

“don’t, sam,” you beg. “it’s okay, i promise.” your voice raises to a shout to make sure he can hear you as crowley pulls you through the door and away from sam.

⟢⟢⟢

you know without a doubt that sam’s looking for you. that he’s pouring every minute into finding you, that he’s probably skipping meals and losing sleep because of it. but you also know that you won’t be easy to find. either way, you’re getting out. out of this godforsaken room with no windows and drab walls and out of this life, away from this fear. and you’re going to do it yourself.

it’s not easy, per se, but it’s not difficult either. just tedious and time consuming. it’s fortunate for you that crowley’s narcissism can blind him to certain things, like the fact that you’re much more adept at using your powers than he thinks you are, or that the demon guarding your door, hazel, hates him for giving her such a boring job. he doesn’t even think that you’re capable of manipulating his emotions, given his extra power as king of hell, and that’s exactly why it works when you do.

your escape plan is simple, though not foolproof. but it seems to be working so far. each time that crowley checks on you, you boost all of the hatred and annoyance in both your guard and him. this makes crowley snap at your guard constantly, berating her and blaming her for things she didn’t do. in turn, this makes her hate crowley even more, to the point that her rage no longer needs to be manufactured. hazel hates him more than enough on her own.

even more subtly, you’ve done your best to appeal to her, mostly by complaining about crowley through your shut door and lessening her annoyance as you speak. at first, she’d tell you to shut up, but now, she listens if you don’t talk for too long, sometimes even complaining back.

but today, when she began complaining about crowley to you, unprompted, you decided you’d throw all of your effort into escaping. she’s particularly spiteful, all on her own, and all day, you boost that feeling, complaining along with her and building up the sense of comradery she’s starting to feel with you.

crowley stops by, and you can feel her anger acutely. you do as you’ve done every day, making him annoyed so he says something scathing. with the strength of her hatred, you’re impressed that she doesn’t say something back, something that would likely get her killed by his hands.

instead, she waits until he’s gone, and begins to mutter to herself how she’d love to cut that haughty smirk from his face. you lean against the door, making noise so she knows you’re there.

after a few moments, you speak. “you could just leave,” you suggest casually. she scoffs, trying to sound annoyed at you. truly, you can tell just how much she’d like to do exactly that.

“and risk getting hunted down by his minions? not a chance,” she growls.

“i hate him just as much as you do,” you remind her strategically. “if he’s not in charge, you wouldn’t have to worry about his minions, right? whether it’s now or later, i’m getting out and i’m making him pay. he doesn’t know that i have the power to turn every single one of his demons against him. he thinks i’m weak, but i can topple his kingdom, and i will.” you infuse your words with venom and conviction, just how any demon would like. then you fill her with conviction too, making her believe your words easily. “all i need is to get out of this goddamn room.” to you, her silence is loud, but her feelings are louder. hazel grapples with her hatred and her fear and her utter spite.

“i know you have the key,” you remind her. crowley would never bother to be the one to unlock it each time you need food. “we can both disappear, right now. crowley will get what he has coming for him, i’ll make sure of that.” you send her a wave of boldness and reassurance, confidence that this would be a good decision. it’s easy to feel when you tip her over the edge. a split second later, you hear the door unlock and come face to face with her determined expression.

“this isn’t a favor to you. it’s for me,” she says, voice low and harsh. “i’ll be waiting to see what you do to him.”

easily, you act just how you know she’d want, eyes and voice ruthless like how you learned to be growing up trying to convince crowley you were like him. “trust me. i’ll rip his kingdom apart brick by brick,” you snarl. she nods, and you brush past her, feet light and quiet as you make it out of the building without incident.

once outside, you break into a run, unable to stay calm enough to walk. clutching the small bag of belongings you took, you make for the road. it’s a bit of a ways away, but you reach the highway, panting and desperately looking out for a car that’ll pick you up and take you to the next town over. all you need is to get on the train and head for kansas. you have the way to sam’s bunker memorized.

too afraid not to keep moving, you walk along the side of the road, listening intently for any car or truck. the area is quiet, frustratingly slow, and the few cars that pass you by choose to ignore the thumb that you stick up in the air.

it’s practically torture, walking and walking and waiting. waiting for something to go wrong, for crowley and his demons to find you within mere hours of your escape. your anxiety builds as your hunger and thirst do, and you want to sit down in the grass when you pass an exit sign signaling another five miles to the town with the train station.

but you don’t think you can stop, even with your parched throat, heavy feet, and anxious heart. it’s a strange feeling; elation mixed with nerves so strong you think you could throw up.

you perk up at the sound of a rumbling car engine, but deflate in disappointment before it even comes into sight from around the corner. it’s headed in the wrong direction, straight back towards the place you want to get away from. for a moment, you wonder if you should try and hitch a ride anyway, in case they can drop you off in a different town with a train station. then the car comes into sight, its sleek black body reflecting back the mild sun of the afternoon. you gasp, an impossible hope entering your body.

it had taken you a moment to recognize it; sam’s never driven the impala to see you before, but he’s shown you pictures of his brother’s beloved car. praying it could really be him, you wave your arms in the air, heart beating wildly.

the car slows and breaks a little ways away from you, and before it even comes to a full stop, the passenger side door swings open, and sam comes running out. he looks nowhere but you as he runs across the wide road.

“sam,” you gasp, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. you match his pace, running to meet him. he practically crashes into you, enveloping you in his arms and sighing out your name. you hug him back just as tightly, pressing your face into his neck.

“i’m so sorry,” he breathes out, “crowley was hard to find and–”

“shut up, sam,” you grinned against his skin, the affection clear in your voice. “don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. it was my choice and i knew i’d be able to find a way out. and i knew even better that you’d look for me.”

he barely parts from you, just so he can gently place his hands on the sides of your face and really look at you. “you’re amazing. i–” he stops himself from saying sorry again. “i know that wasn’t easy for you, none of it. but you did it. you did it, all by yourself. i’m so proud of you.”

your heart lurches at his words. they feel too good to hear, too sweet, too full of relief. tears spring into your eyes as you really realize just how difficult it all was, as you’re hit with exhaustion from the walk and the fear and the uncertainty of it all.

“thank you, sam,” you whisper. it’s true that you did it all for yourself, but it may never have happened without him. “you helped me. so much, sam. and i missed you a lot, and– and–” you decide that if you keep talking, you’ll cry. so instead of that, instead of trying to come up with something to bring justice to the way that you feel, you kiss him. you remember that sam knows how you feel because that’s how he feels too. and though you can’t quite show him that in the way you experience his own feelings, you can show him by kissing him, and kissing him hard.

he melts into you, his hands impossibly soft, yet steady and so sure on your face. he kisses you back with the same ferver, right there on the side of an empty highway with his brother likely watching. he doesn’t care, not about any of it.

when you finally part, breathless, dean clears his throat loudly, and you grin at sam a little bashfully. he grins back. you peek around his shoulder to see dean leaning against the car’s hood, trying and failing to hide his smile.

“while i hate to break up the lovefest, i’m not sure how long we’ve got until crowley sends that army of demons you mentioned. let’s hit the road, kids,” he calls out to the two of you.

in the car, it seems clear that dean’s attitude towards you has improved significantly since your last meeting. maybe it was seeing the way crowley treated you, watching you give yourself up in defense of sam and the others in the cafe, or seeing sam this past week and a half and coming to understand how much he really cares about you. whatever it is, you completely welcome the hesitant sort of affection that begins to permeate dean’s wariness of you.

then, there’s sam, sitting all content in the passenger's side and unable to stay still. he keeps turning to look at you, as if he has to be sure that you’re really there, sitting pretty in the backseat of the impala like he’s imagined a million times before. the only thing keeping him from sitting next to you is the fact that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands and lips off of you, and that would be a bit too much with dean in the car. so instead, he smiles at you all soft and listens intently when you explain how you got out. he tries not to talk too much to avoid bothering dean, but you can tell that dean doesn’t mind one bit hearing the happy tone in sam’s voice as he talks to you.

and for you, to be flying down the highway and looking at your sam, your revelry, your wild joy, you finally understand what freedom really feels like. what it feels like when it’s yours.

#daisy recs !#no mari i’m literally obsessed with you like i am sam #you constanly raise the bar #UGGHH I WANNA CRAWL INSIDE YOUR BRAIN AND LIVE IT IN!!#guys guys my husband is a genius and writes beautiful fics constantly #even when they’re angsty and break my heart sometimes #RAHH MARI YOUVE OUTDONE YOURSELF #NOW IM PATIENTLY WAITNG FOR THE NEXT ONE 😩😩#sam winchester #sammy my boy #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfics

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drakonovisny · 11 months ago

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i'm so cringe, it's unreal 😭

#i feel like an angsty teenage boy #why am i so clingy and obsessive #and self-doubtful ughhhhh

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outoftheseine · 6 months ago

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-AZRIEL “THE SHADOWSINGER” FIC RECS-

i am so obsessed with him it is not even funny | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

the trials of aphrodite • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @milswrites (unrequited love, so much pining)

unrequited love | part two • azriel x reader

↳ by @lyssasdrafts (angst)

a field of dandelions • azriel x witch!reader

↳ by @prythianpages (made my heart warm, some angst, smut)

bloodied bonds | sinner’s sacrifice • azriel x rhysand’s sister!reader

↳ by @ellievickstar (hanahaki au, angst)

if it all fell • azriel x reader

↳ by @pellucid-constellations (angst, comfort, i feel for azriel :()

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gyuswhore · 1 year ago

Text

Fifteen to Forever

"I can’t not be happy when I know I have you."

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Fifteen was the age you had met Choi Seungcheol at a school hockey game. Forever was the age you would find yourself spending with him.

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI), growing up, tears (a lot), distance, this is so emotional you will be in your feels, kissing, p in v sex (unprotected), clit stimulation, handjobs, happy endings bc we love them, i think that's it

WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist

[AN]: thank you so much @ressonancee for birthing the idea of hockey player cheol in the first place, reading over some of the bits and helping me w some of the plot!!! ty for letting me ramble in your dms lol. hockeyplayer!cheol WILL reappear in other fics bc I'm obsessed with the idea, for now, I hope you enjoy this angsty fluffy creation <33

It wasn’t until the last echo of the slammed car door had faded that you realized, yes, mom, I do actually want you to go in with me.

But alas, as the last tresses of exhaust from her car fade into nothingness, you accept that you’d have to do this alone. Gripping the straps of your brand new backpack helps you ground yourself as the increasingly erratic breathing takes over you. It sinks in now that you’re alone.

There’s a honk, and you realize you’re still frozen in the drop-off zone, the mom in the Subaru not appreciating the 7 AM delay to drop off her own high schooler. You wonder if her kid would let her drop them off inside.

Scurrying into the entrance of the open gates, you find the courtyard full. Huddles of teens laughing and yelling despite the early morning hour, not a spare square foot on the grass. You try to find someone who looks like an adult but fail, hoping you’ll be luckier once you’re inside the building.

You do find yourself lucky as you find a line of teachers at the entrance, ready to greet the new batch of freshmen on their first day of high school. There are a few other kids who look as tense as you, but you feel better with the way the administrator pats your shoulder as she hands you your schedule, assigning you to a lanky sophomore to show you around the building that’d become your second home for the next four years.

Jeonghan tells you his name as he leads you into your homeroom, where you deposit your bag before going back out. He’s peculiar, you decide. He tells you to never walk without looking at the floor on Monday mornings to save your shoes from the occasional start-of-the-week breakfast hurl. He tells you in the cafeteria that the lasagna was horrible, but not the sloppy joes; the sloppy joes were good. He tells you in the gym that the coach would let you off if you rubbed a little eyeliner under your eyes, “he’s an empath.”

By the time he’s listing off clubs and teams, you feel a little less nervous, pushing you back into your fuller homeroom with a sign-up sheet and a goodbye. You don’t get to say thank you.

Kwon Soonyoung slips into the empty seat next to you, introducing himself a little louder than you’d anticipated, but you suppose you needed the enthusiasm. He innocently slips you his home number and hopes out loud that you’d be the best of friends.

You get in the car that afternoon, responding with a wider-than-expected smile at your mother inquiring about your day.

“It was great! I think I’ll like it here.”

You found it strange that the rink was so packed for a high school hockey game, but that was before you saw the ten-foot banner and face paint. Soonyoung sits on your right as Jiwoo places herself on your left, both donned in blue and yellow, sandwiching your uncoordinated outfit. For whatever reason, you’d thought movies exaggerated the hype around high school sports, yet the support for the boys entering the rink roars into your ears to prove you wrong.

They win, and with the way the rest of the team pats him on the back after sending in the last puck, you assume it’s all thanks to the boy with the Choi on the back of his jersey.

He removes his helmet, hair flopping into his eyes as you realize you know him. He was always in the cafeteria with Jeonghan, the boy who gave you a tour on your first day, along with many other boys from his year. It was hard not to notice them with the ruckus they were always causing, yet you found them easy to drown out with the rest of the noise.

“What’s his first name? The guy with the 08 on his back?” you ask Soonyoung.

“Oh, that’s Seungcheol. Dude’s a fucking progidy or something.”

“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects.

“Yeah, that. Jihoon said the only reason they got to finals last year was ‘cause of this guy.”

You watch as he drinks from his bottle from the benches, smiling at his coach and teammates as they debriefed. At least you were guessing that was happening; the only thing you were thinking about was how you could hear his laugh from where you sat. And how it was making you smile, too.

You stare at your worn shoes that glow in multicolors as the beats in the gym warp and stagger through the speaker. You’re on your third punch, finding yourself awkward without something to occupy at least one hand.

You had danced a little with Jiwoo, watched with bright eyes as Soonyoung dance off-ed yet another senior to his victory, giggled as you let another freshman, Jun, take Jiwoo away for the next dance. You now lace the edges of the party, taking a breather as you down the remnants of your punch, already trailing the memorized path to the snack table. Maybe you’ll try some of the lemonade this time.

There’s already somebody occupying the lemonade cooler when you get there, back to you as you patiently wait for him to finish up. He moves away, leaning against the table. He takes a sip from his cup, and you move forward to fill your own.

It’s Seungcheol. You recall his name as you recognize his face. He somehow looks as haphazard as you last saw him from yesterday’s hockey game.

If he had come in with a tie, it’s long gone as he has his collar popped and shirt unbuttoned the first few steps. It doesn’t end there as you note the hair that dresses his eyes, soaked in what you cannot imagine is water with the way you saw someone with a similar build typhoon across the floor with nearly as much vigor as Soonyoung has had tonight.

He’s downing the cup in haste, and you take a sip of the slightly tart drink as you debate if you should say something.

“You did really well yesterday. Congrats,” you decide to say.

He emerges from his cup to acknowledge you sipping on your own lemonade, “Oh, thanks. Were you there?”

“Oh, yeah, I was. First hockey game, went with my friends,” you let out a little chuckle, not understanding why you suddenly felt so awkward.

“Cool,” he answers plainly, mouth glistening and posture stagnant. “You’re friends with Soonyoung, right? Seen him hang around Jihoon a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s — he’s friends with everybody,” you laugh a little, and you hear him laugh with you.

“How do you handle him? He’s giving a run for everybody’s money out there,” he gestures to the dance floor with a smile.

“He mellows out after a while; he’s just excited,” you say, understanding his bewilderment.

“How’re you finding high school so far?” he asks when he runs out of things to say, yet forgets that he can easily excuse himself. But he doesn’t.

“Pretty alright. I’m having fun so far.” You don’t need to ask him the same, knowing well that the sophomore was having the time of his life.

“Good to hear, hope it stays that way for you.”

It’s another painful five seconds before you see Jiwoo waving at you from afar, pointing at something Soonyoung is doing.

“Uh, I’ll see you around, my friend’s waving me over–”

“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”

You give him one more tight-lipped smile as you wave from waist length before retreating.

“Wait!”

You turn around at his voice.

“I never got your name.”

Seungcheol took you on your first not-date in the spring.

Not-date because neither of you had labeled it as such, but you were pushed to reconsider when both Jiwoo and Soonyoung insisted.

He had brought his car that you slipped into after school to drive to the movies, where he bought you popcorn and paid for both of your tickets. He held your hand as you walked out of the theatre, wide-eyed and all smiles as you discussed the film you had just sat through for two hours.

His palm fit in yours like it belonged there, and maybe it was your fifteen-year-old brain talking. Still, you never expected to be this comfortable with him — especially after the possible insinuation your friends had instilled.

He drove you home that night as you searched for a million excuses to stay a little longer in his car as he parked in front of your door. But alas, you open the car door at the end of the night and are surprised to find him doing the same as he walks around to where you get out.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you say in your rehearsed line.

“Me too,” he smiles. “The weather’s getting nicer, we should see the cherry blossoms next weekend. If you wanted to. We can take the car again.”

He didn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips as he hugged you at your front door and pressed his lips to your cheek.

You were quick to squeak out your goodbyes after that happened, slamming your door shut as you vaguely heard him drive off.

With a hand to your racing heart, you count to ten. Perhaps you’d reconsider that not-date after all. Besides, you had cherry blossoms to look forward to.

Choi Seungcheol kissed you, really kissed you, when he brought the team to the cup they missed out on last year, throwing himself at you as soon as you appeared before him. He was sweaty, half-dressed in his gear with his skates still on as he embraced you tighter than anyone ever had before.

He put his lips on yours the second he saw your face as you pulled away, unable to help himself despite the groans and retches of his teammates, despite the fact that an entire bleacher’s worth of people saw you both.

Not that either of you cared; you were just happy he didn’t have his mouth guard on (and that he kissed you before you couldn’t help it yourself).

It was in your junior year and Seungcheol’s senior year that you began to hear the absurdities about the strength of your relationship, that you wouldn’t make it, that high school sweethearts never do.

With shaking hands, you grip your boyfriend’s arm as he has a conflicted look in his eye.

“No,” you say. You wonder where all of this strength was coming from when you all wanted was to cry. “You’re gonna go. You will go. I won’t let you throw all of this away because of something that’s never gonna waver.”

He’s silent as he refuses to meet your gaze. The voices were getting to him, his older college friends laughing when he suggested that his relationship would last both college and the distance it would bring. He realizes he’s not so sure anymore.

He sits cross-legged in front of you on your bedroom floor, mentally prepared to walk out for the last time.

“You’re supposed to be happiest about this; I don’t understand why you insist I leave. And so far away?” he looks slightly bewildered.

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t. This isn’t about me, Cheol, it’s about everything you’ve worked for all these years—”

“Us, what about us? I’ve worked on us, too.”

“Why have you gone years without listening to a word what other people say to only listening to them now?”

“Was it just me, then? Because it feels like I’m the only one worried about our future together—”

“Choi Seungcheol, stop right there.” Your voice is brittle, and you don’t know how long you can keep the tears at bay.

“I…I don’t know what to think,” his shoulders slump even lower.

His hockey scholarship would take him so, so far away. He thought you were strong enough for this, but with every anecdote, every comment, every dejected “have it your way” to his resilience, he wonders if the both of you would be forced to fight a losing battle if he left.

There were sports universities here at home, but there was no you with his scholarship.

“I’ll tell you what to think. Will you listen to me?”

Slowly, but surely, he nods.

“You can get the scholarship you’ve always wanted, and we can stay as we are, although a little farther away.”

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“I believe in us. And if you don’t right now, I’m ready to believe for the both of us. We’ll get through this.”

In the end, Seungcheol believed you over everything the world told him, praying he wouldn’t let you or himself down as he laid with you on the last night he’d call his bedroom home.

Graduation was a happy endeavor, momentarily forgetting what lay ahead as he enjoyed his last hours with all his friends in one place. The heavy feeling returned as the night progressed, agreeing to spend the night with him, tucked under his covers as you listened to his heartbeat. You wonder how long it will be until you're able to do this again.

As you lay in his stripped bedroom, there’s little either of you say, an unspoken agreement to not sleep, not tonight. He has an early morning, but he doesn’t really seem to care as he continues to fiddle with your hair, kissing you at intervals like he's trying to bring back the feeling when it begins to fade.

There’s little you can talk about when you’re trying to memorize each other’s scent. You remind yourself to give him your sweater when morning comes, already noting the hoodie you need to remember to pick up, the lone one he left you in his closet.

But as the first rays of sun peeked through the blinds, sending stripes of sun into the bedroom, you tried not to feel the hard clench of your heart as the bare room came into sight. Despite the snoozing of alarms, the multiple knocks on his door, and the dawn of a new day, you let yourselves have an extra five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes.

Just you and him before it would be you, and it would be him.

Seungcheol called you more than you called him. It was everywhere, even if it was just to say a quick “I love you” before a game, to hear your voice before he went to class, to listen to you complain about an assignment before he had to do his own.

As resilient as you showed yourself to be, you’d be lying if you said there was a part of you that was afraid of how much faith Seunghceol held for the both of you, but at ease you were with the constant bugging he’d do and the bugging he seemed to appreciate back.

By Christmastime, he’d texted you his itinerary for the holidays, explaining how he couldn’t spare a second to things like thinking. Most of his list involved spending all day rotting indoors with you.

As much as Seungcheol had hoped you’d pick a college nearer to him, he was less scared when you finally announced your college decisions close to graduation. The past year had proved a lot, mostly that you both were stronger than the distance. Which is why he was the first to congratulate you when you got into the college of your choice, despite the fact that you’d be even farther away, leaving home in what felt like the opposite direction to him.

You were scared too, mostly of how Seungcheol would react, but seeing the smile break out on his face when you told him gave you all the reassurance you needed. That summer brought you the best memories of your teenage years, with Seungcheol, preparing for you both to leave. Except this time, the air was less tense, fewer tears shed, fewer solemn goodbyes at airport gates, and less desperation in both of your hearts. A surety that you’d come back to each other.

Seungcheol was offered a contract with his dream hockey team when you were on the cusp of your final year. He told you nearly two weeks after he received the first email, not believing it until he was pestered to do so by the representative.

You cried on the phone that night, the ache in your chest unbelievably present as you wished you could hug him at that moment. He denied his own tears, but you knew his glassier-than-normal eyes weren’t just through the camera lens. You told him you were proud, you told him this was only the beginning, that you needed to sit in the bleachers with his jersey on for every game he’ll ever play, that he was about to have an entire career to be proud of soon.

He let a couple tears slip.

And when he showed up to your graduation, sitting next to your family, you gave him the biggest hug you could muster from your bones. That year may have been the last you’d have to endure apart, but it was somehow the hardest.

It was in that moment, when you pulled away to look at his smiling face, that the years registered in your mind.

You’re fifteen again, seeing Seungcheol for the first time, donning the features he hadn’t grown into yet, the features you hadn’t grown into yet. You have to tiptoe to meet his lips now, see a man where there was once a boy, the deep set of maturity behind his pretty eyes.

When he drops the last of your boxes into his — your shared apartment, you’re brought to the stark realization that you're going to stay here.

It’s when you’re unpacking your toothbrush, placing it in the cup right next to his that you realize you could do whatever you wanted with each other without having to work around flight schedules. It’s when he’s hobbling around wooden planks and screws in the bedroom, putting together the brand new queen-sized bed to replace his too-small twin, that you realize that you weren’t here for the week, or for the month or for any set amount of time; you were here forever.

At least that’s what you hope as you watch him collapse the last of the cardboard boxes to recycle, shoving in the corner of the entryway, leaving that job for tomorrow.

By the time you emerge in the living room after a shower, Seungcheol has already begun to unpack the delivery food on the coffee table. It’s an array of delicious smells, slightly soggy food, and mounds of styrofoam and plastic wrap; a feast for your tired, tired bodies.

The dumplings are amazing, and the warm feeling in your chest expands as you realize you can now order them whenever you like.

Seungcheol picks out the chopped chilies from his food, migrating them onto your own plate as he talks about his next practice session without interruption.

A thought occurs to you in that moment as you watch him down his cola. “Hasn’t coach put you on a diet plan?”

“Yeah,” he says normally. You merely stare at him, not understanding how any of this junk could be any good for his form, especially when you know he’s good about abstaining when it comes to training.

He smiles at the questioning look on your face, setting down his utensils, “It’s our first meal, in our first home. I think we deserve to share this with each other.”

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of this being your first meal, the first of many meals together in this home. Of all the meals you’ll share in every home after this, every day.

And while Seungcheol finds himself sacrificing his diet to enjoy all of this greasy grub with you, you will also find yourself occasionally sharing his awfully bland chicken breasts and salads. All to share with each other.

Walking into the bustling restaurant in your uncomfortable shoes and your arm around Seungcheol’s, you’re quick to find the group you’re looking for.

The noise is a dead giveaway, and you quickly realize they haven’t changed.

You hear Soonyoung before you see him, his distinct laugh echoing the loudest across the sea of mingling heads. A loud banner hangs at the end of the room with your high school grad year.

You detach from Seungcheol as he finds his junior friends, and you find yours, taking both Soonyoung and Jiwoo into a bone-crushing hug. It’s been a while since you last saw them. The crowd of familiar faces greets you, making small talk with everyone as they introduce you to their partners and even their children. You’ve grown; all of you have.

“Seungcheol’s here too. You guys were together in high school, right?” somebody asks you at some point during the night. “He graduated before us, though; wonder who he’s here with.”

You don’t blame them for assuming, considering both of you have been in your own circles all night. That, added to the obvious assumptions of high school sweethearts, you only laugh a little as you reply with a wider-than-usual smile.

“Oh, he’s here with me,”

You go home with a permanent smile stuck to your face, talking more animatedly than usual in the car ride home. Seuncheol mirrors your smile as he listens.

Your good mood prevails for the rest of the night, even as you slip under the covers, ready to end the night on a happier-than-usual note. Seungcheol is reading his book when you crawl under his arm, head on his chest, and your arm slung across his torso. You feel his lips on the top of your head, the faint sound of his book being placed on the bedside table.

“What’s got you so smiley?” he asks with one of his own.

You shake your head as you reply, “Nothing. I’m just happy I saw Soonyoung and Jiwoo.”

“I’m glad you saw them too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You hum in response, suddenly remembering a conversation you had. “You know, Jess asked me who you were there with.”

“Figures,” he shrugs before laughing a little.“How much did she hesitate before asking you?”

“Looked like she was holding it in for a little bit. Don’t blame her, though. She probably thought we ended it in epic teenage fashion.”

He snorts at that, “Probably would’ve if you didn’t talk some sense into me.”

“Probably would’ve if you didn’t trust me like you did,” you crane your neck to look at him.

“Glad I wasn’t that far gone,” he whispers, a faraway look in his eyes despite looking directly at you. “Haven’t doubted us ever since.”

There’s that warm feeling that spreads throughout your body, an overwhelming feeling of contentment coming over you. There was nothing, nothing, that could convince you to be anywhere else, especially anywhere that wasn’t in his arms.

“Sometimes…well, a lot of the times, I think about us,” you start. “I thought us hitting six months was enough to tell me I’d be with you forever.”

He smiles at the thought of high school you, starry-eyed, awkward little kids. He remembers the way you blushed when he kissed you for the first time in front of the whole school, the heat that had risen to his own face at the time.

“And then we hit a year, and then two years,” you remember every surprise for every anniversary, from when you’d collect your allowance for weeks to get him something he’d like.

“And then college happened. I tried being so positive, but I had never been more scared for us. I hope we never have to go through something that hard ever again.” You almost sound like a child not wanting to go to the doctor’s office, but with the way you feel yourself tighten your grip around him, you don’t think it’s any different.

You can feel your eyes begin to well, and your voice begins to shake. It was nearly comical how quickly the smiles were turning into sentimental tears.

Seungcheol places a kiss on your lips, and you know it was meant to be reassuring, but it only wrenches open the floodgates. The tears begin to make their way down your face, sniffles muffled as you go back to burying your face in his chest, his shirt soaking the wetness. You can feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs at your state. He’s also squeezing up your sides and placing kisses in any place he can reach.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmur into his shirt.

“It’s okay. Today was very reflective,” he reassures, letting you stay hidden.

“I just—” you sniff. “I just wanna stay happy like this all the time.”

It’s only then that he guides your stained face away from his shirt to bring you to look at him, wiping the remnants of your tears as you try to keep the fresh ones at bay. “We’ll be happy, even when we’re sad. I can’t not be happy when I know I have you. I love you too much for that.”

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, arms around his neck as you pull yourself to him, chest to chest. You kiss him properly, pecking him a few times to have your fill.

And then he’s pulling away, ever so slightly to bring a bare millimeter of gap between your lips. His hands burn where they rest, one on your waist, one on your thigh. He’s breathing hard. Both of you are.

“I’m gonna say something so not fit for right now,” he breathes.

You can’t help but freeze in his hold as you register his words, hesitating before you ask. “What?”

“Marry me.”

It comes out as the same whisper, directly into your lips as he utters the words. Like he was keeping a secret from the walls and the furniture, like they were only meant for you; because they were only meant for you. Your heart stops, and you vaguely wonder if you’re breathing at all.

“I—” he takes a long, shaky breath from his nose. “I was supposed to do this a little differently, but…”

You watch him reach over into his bedside drawer, the one you never touch, and bring out the smallest velvet box. Opening it reveals the prettiest, most delicate diamond you’ve ever seen, the jewel glinting and sparkling even in the dim bedroom lights.

That’s when you let out a tiny gasp, feeling the tears return, dripping down your face one after the other. “Choi Seuncheol, you bitch.”

You’re sobbing at this point, and it has him sitting up straighter, leaving the box to the side as he lurches for you when you pull away.

“Wait, fuck, sorry, I thought,” he exhales in frustration, hands trying to pull yours away from your face as you cry into your hands. He sounds desperate. “I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“No, it’s not that,” you finally manage through hiccups.

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I’m just fucking emotional.”

You hear him laugh again, no doubt out of pure relief, as he nearly doubles over at the situation.

You’re a little calmer as you continue to sniffle, watching him with a half-disgruntled, half-amused expression, “Put it on, stupid, or do I need to cry again for you to do that.”

You don’t need to tell him twice as he slips the ring on your finger, the perfect fit, the perfect jewel, the perfect ring.

Bringing him closer, you kiss him again, lips pressed hard on his as you try to communicate every last emotion into it. You’re out of words, and you hope he knows what you're feeling. You know he knows; he always knows.

He’s reciprocating with the same vigor, arms coming up to wrap around you so tight it pushes you flush against his body. He nips at your lip, running his tongue over it for good measure before letting it enter your mouth. You let him take the lead, let him guide you through every motion, every step forward.

You’re putty when he pulls off your clothes for you, feeling your heart scream in protest whenever he pulls away to get rid of the obstructions. Your emotions were in a delicate place, and you suddenly couldn’t handle not being able to feel him against you consistently.

He does well to make it quick, moving back on top of you to occupy your mouth once more. He tries to migrate lower, latching onto your neck to continue his ministrations there, but you don’t let him as you pull his face back to yours again.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth before latching onto his lips.

He lets out a low grunt, pulling away for breath as he whispers it back, “I love you more.”

If you won’t let his mouth move, you let his hands do whatever they wish, feeling them move lower against your sides to reach your hips. His thumbs draw circles on them as he slowly moves his hands to where you can feel the arousal grow.

His fingers hit your bare heat as he plunges them into your folds, encasing your clit between his fingers. He drags them up slowly before moving back down, all the way to your now sopping hole to brush against the opening.

You sigh against his lips as he pushes his finger in slowly, lips releasing yours as you throw your head back to feel his digit around your walls. He pushes a second one in without hesitation, and you know he’s just as desperate as you right now.

He’s only two fingers deep, and yet you feel yourself beginning to come undone. He always knew what to do when he wanted to stretch you out faster, always knew what to do when he wanted to draw the pleasure out, keep you writhing for hours.

Right now was different; it felt like he was holding himself back to the point where it was almost painful. If he wasn’t worried about the stretch, he would’ve buried himself inside you already, and yet, when he feels you clench undeniably hard around his fingers as you orgasm, he feels like he might’ve cum himself.

His low moans echo off the walls with your louder, more desperate ones, riding out your high as you feel him bring his other hand up to rub your clit in fast circles, making the pleasure last. Coming down from your high, you feel him pause for a moment as he peppers kisses on your face, down your jaw and neck, finally coming to press his lips against yours.

“You okay?”

You nod in response, already grasping at his boxers to yank them down. Despite having just orgasmed, the satisfaction is yet to come, needing to feel him inside you before you combusted entirely.

He helps as he discards himself of the final obstruction, letting you stroke his painfully hard member in your hands. The face he makes is heavenly as you watch him feel your hands wrapped around him. The impatience takes over as he finally removes your hands, instead pinning them beside your head as he guides himself to your entrance.

Seungcheol goes back to planting himself onto you entirely, knowing exactly what you wanted from him, needing to feel him against you so flush and tight. He lets you wrap your hands around his neck as he finally begins to push himself into you, letting his tip graze the beginning of your entrance.

He breathes into your neck in deep, deep exhales, trying so hard not to cum before he’s even entered you entirely. He takes his time pushing into you, focusing on your fingers as they play with his hair, your palms running down his shoulder blades in a pathway. He closes his eyes as he sheaths himself in you completely, continuing his steady breaths to not come undone before you.

He begins to move when he feels like he’s gotten a hold of his bearings, feeling you hold onto him as he starts thrusting into your cunt. The sounds you make are bliss; the feeling of every inch of your skin on his is making him lose his already lost mind.

Your arms drop when they can’t hold onto him any longer, your hands remaining on him regardless, in some way or the other. Seungcheol takes hold of your hand, emerging from the crook of your neck to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it, your palms, the back of your hand, your fingers, directly over the rock he slipped on you himself.

The tenderness of his actions makes your brain rattle against your skull, the building feeling in your abdomen coming so close to collapsing into release. You find yourself pushing yourself up on your elbows, face finding the crook of his shoulder as you push yourself back into him when pulled back in the slightest.

You’re so close now, so, so close. “Cheol,”

“I know, darling. Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

You release to the sound of his voice, the words that tumble from his desperate mouth, the feeling of his own cum shooting inside your spent walls. He continues to thrust into you as you both let out the loudest moans of the night, letting yourself get wrapped up in the feeling of each other before you lose your peak.

You register nothing as you feel him drop his weight on top of you, letting the moment pass.

Despite having had nights rougher, more lengthy than this, you somehow feel more spent than you have at the end of any of those escapades. The answer comes to you in the few minutes it takes for you both to catch your breath, Cheol being just as fatigued as you despite his athlete stamina.

You feel him continue to press his lips onto your skin, letting you do the same to him in between kisses. Neither of you speak for another few minutes, letting the heaviness of your hearts come forth in the showers of love you seem to want to give each other.

He’s grasping your left hand, toying with the ring fitted there. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

A picture of the both of you hangs on the wall in your bedroom, dim yet decipherable in the low lights. There’s a moment where you have a flash of that same photo on multiple different walls. Different shades of neutral, in different rooms in different houses. It’s the same picture.

You think of what forever might hold for the both of you, separately and together. You let the prospect of every step, every change, and every milestone wash over you in waves that keep coming, crashing back to feed into another.

Change, you rehearse. There had been lots of it, and yet you had merely scratched the surface of what life was about to throw at you. You knew that, Seungcheol knew that. But you found yourself, in that moment, convinced in entirety that change is good, whether it feels good or bad.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder; you didn't realize the meaning of the phrase until you had to live apart from the love of your life. Painful, difficult, sometimes agonizing, yet also necessary, you conclude. You wonder if your love would ever have grown this deep if you hadn’t felt life without each other.

You think of how far you’ve come, how you’ve grown with each other. There was an encompassing of gratefulness that came with every step you had taken, and with every step you would take henceforth, you knew that for certain.

Perhaps you would find yourself voicing these emotional thoughts to him, but not now. The unspoken was louder than anything you could say.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.”

taglist (strikthru could not be tagged): @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seungcheol fluff #seuncheol smut #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x reader #seungchel angst #scoups #svt #svt smut #em.writes

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mythicmanuscripts · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! It's me again! 🤗

I was reading about the awful things that happened to Aegon in the brothel. Him so desperately trying to be taken care of and only finding more abuse broke my heart 🥺 and also got me thinking... What if he doesn't have a good, loving wife to make it all better? 😭 What if instead, one of the workers (Reader) finally takes pity on him and treats him the way he needs so much? Taking him away from the awful workers and under her wing? I imagine he would become instantly addicted. Never letting other worker touch him again. Only accepting her services. I bet he would get possessive as well. Paying an enormous amount of gold to be the only one that can touch her.

Do you think he would dare bring her to live in the castle? Or even more scandalous, actually MARRY her? Or he would be too scared of his pious mother's reaction (as well as the rest of the kingdoms') to a whore becoming queen? There is also the possibility of him just gifting her a big house with servants, close to the castle, so he can visit whenever he wants needs... Sooooo many possibilities! 😳

What do you think?

Oh my god. Are you sure you don't want to take over this blog because this is INCREDIBLE??? I am obsessed. I actually think I'm gonna tag this with 'subby Aegon!au' so that we can discuss this more and you guys can easily use the tag to find everything about this because I fear this may be my new obsession.

Anyway, NSFW sub!aegon that starts very angsty but has a happy ending under the cut!!

So for anyone who missed the post that inspired this, we were discussing how Aegon would know he was a submissive and go to a brothel to submit to the workers there. He desperately wants to just be loved and cared for and feel like a good boy but none of the workers will do that and he doesn't quite have the language to explain what he wants/needs. So instead he just ends up going through all this abuse and humiliation and degradation just to hear them say he did well at the end. He always goes into subdrop afterwards and he feels so terrible but he also can't stop going because it's the only time that he actually feels like he's good enough.

For this AU, I think it makes the most sense that you first encounter Aegon after he's had a scene with someone else? Cause Aegon always pays very VERY well and so the brothel workers who have dominated him always ensure that no one else can lay with him because they want all that money? Like maybe the madam of the brothel you work at has a very strict rule that no one other than her is allowed to lay with the king. Of course there's plenty of rumours going around the brothel about what he likes he and pretty much everyone knows that the madam dominates him.

You first encounter Aegon after he finished a particularly brutal scene with the madame. Half an hour later when the madam wants to use that room again he's still laying there? He hasn't even gotten dressed, is just laying there with a thin blanket wrapped around himself.

The madam does not want to deal with him because she knows from experience that he gets all clingy and weepy after a scene and so she sends you in to kick him out. Well, she tells you to kick him out.

But then you walk in and he just... he looks so small? You slowly walk over and gently place your hand on his shoulder. He jumps up and scrambles off the bed, mumbling apologies because he knows the madam told him to leave and he still hadnt.

You quickly tell him it's alright, that he's done nothing wrong and the look he gives you is just so heartbreaking? He's all wide eyed and shocked and there's a very very small smile on his face when he whispers, "Really? I... you're sure? I'm good?"

Which, yeah there's no way you're kicking him out now. You help him get back into his clothes and then take him to your private room. The rule is supposed to be no clients in the personal quarters, but this is quite literally the king so you don't see anyone complaining.

You keep an arm wrapped around his waist, guiding him like that and he just leans against you? You can't believe that the madam doesn't stay with him after she dominates him, especially because he's just so sweet? He's leaning against you, mumbling thanks and letting you lead him without complaint. He's so sweet and vulnerable and you can't believe the madam would leave him and not care for him.

He's so shocked when he finds himself in your private quarters, and he's even more surprised when you wet a rag and gently clean the tears off his face. He leans into every one of your touches, trying to soak up as much attention as he can.

You ask him if you can undress him again so you can clean him properly, and he just starts sobbing and throws himself in your arms because he can't believe how lucky he is. You just hold him and tell him that he's doing so good, that you just want to get him cleaned up a little more and then he can take a nice nap with you.

He closes his eyes and cries silently as you clean him. There are welts on his back from the madam's whip so you have to ensure you clean them properly or risk infection. You expect to have to clean dried cum from between his thighs but to your surprise there's nothing?

When you ask, he just wines and mumbles, "Wasnt good, couldnt cum" which just breaks your heart because you refuse to entertain any possibility that this sweet little thing wasnt absolutely perfect.

You finish cleaning him and you're about to help him get his clothes back on when he just kinda collapses onto the bed. You don't even bother with that then and instead you just get into bed with him.

"Come here," you tell him, opening your arms and he immediately dives right in. You hold him tight and when you press a kiss to the e top of his head he just melts into you.

When he wakes, he's hard. He tries to apologise for it but you won't hear it, and you ask if you can help him. He tries to shake his head and say that he can't go through that again, but then you interrupt him and promise him that you only mean helping him cum and do nothing else.

He's so sweet when you stroke him, mumbling how good it feels and begging to cum and after he does, he even takes your hand and licks it clean? He's just the bed boy and he's clearly trying so so hard to please you, so you make sure to praise him constantly because the poor thing deserves it.

The next time he comes to the brothel, he tells the madam to get lost and asks for you. He won't even consider another, not after you cared for him and praised him and made him feel safe. Of course the madam is not happy about this, but she cant stop him and so he goes to the room and waits for you.

When you walk in and ask why he's asked for you, he just says that he really liked you from before. And then he actually looks nervous? Like you might tell him that he has to go back to the madam.

You tell him that as much as you'd love to, you can't do what the madam does to him. You explain that you can't degrade him or slap him or anything like that. But then he just smiles even wider and tells you he doesn't want that, he just wants what you did last time.

He seems all blushy and nervous and there's a very obvious tent in his breeches. You smirk then and say, "Aw, do you want me to take care of you? Yeah? Let me do all the thinking and you can just be my pretty good boy?"

Instantly he's slipping from the bed and down onto his knees, kneeling and nodding comically quick because yes. That's everything he's ever wanted and more.

And he's just so good for you? He listens to every single order, and he begs so prettily and his sounds are just insane. When it's over, you pull him into your chest and kiss his head and tell him he did so so well for you. He's just on cloud nine, because this is absolutely everything he's ever wanted and more.

When he leaves, he pays you double what he pays the Madam and when you tell him that's too much, he says that there's no amount of gold in the world that could be enough to thank you for how you looked after him. He asks if he can come back, if you'll let him do that again and of course you agree to let him.

The madam isnt happy with you of course, but she can't exactly force the king to lay with her instead. For about three weeks things continue like that, with Aegon visiting every few days and paying you very very handsomely. He always stays for a few hours after this, just getting cuddles and kisses.

After a while, the madam comes to you and is unhappy that Aegon will not be with anyone else. Aegon pays very handsomely and he also lets them basically beat him up, so of course the madam is unhappy that she no longer get aegon's time. Aegon, meanwhile, will not even look at another.

The next time Aegon comes to the brothel, you're with another client? As much as you wish that you could just see Aegon, if you did that then the madam would kick you out. The madam is overjoyed when Aegon walks in and you're with another client, because it means she can swoop in and tell Aegon you're busy but that she'd be more than happy to do it instead.

And Aegon just... he knew that obviously you had other clients, but knowing and actually being there while you were with someone else are two different things. His smile falls instantly, and he says that he doesn't want anyone else. The madam tries again, maybe even touching him and telling him to think about all the good times they had, which prompts him to stumble backwards and very firmly say that he won't be seeking the services of anyone else.

He ends up leaving the brothel and then comes back the following night and is so so relieved to find that you are free. He's much more whiney and clingy than you're used to, to the point where he cries if you even let go of his hand. You end up having to pull away o ask what's going on, because he seems very distressed. You hadnt seen him like that since you took care of him that first night.

He gets quiet and then eventually asks how many other men you see every day. You sigh, because you knew this question was coming and you're not sure what to say to him. You end up just saying that this is your job, and that the madam is already upset with you for being the only one he goes to so you can't risk only seeing him because then you'd almost certainly be kicked out of the brothel entirely and have no wear to live.

Before you had even finished speaking Aegon had already made up his mind to give you enough gold that you never have to be with anyone else. You try to tell him that's not necessary, but for him it absolutely is. He will not allow the only person who makes him feel good in the entire seven kingdoms to struggle to earn a living when he is quite literally the king.

At first you turn him down, stating that you have to earn your own way and that you can't rely on him.

And then he goes quiet for a moment before he just softly says, "But, I rely on you? We can rely on each other?" Which is just the sweetest thing you've ever heard. You kiss his head and let him curl against your chest, giving him a little squeeze before telling him that you won't let him pay everything, but you will ket him pay enough to the madam that she will allow you to only take clients of your choice and also to set aside 4 nights every week that are just for him. It's not everything he wanted, but it's pretty damn close. And Aegon is so obsessed with you that he will absolutely take 4 days a week of your undivided attention.

It carries on like that for a while, with you and him being together 4 nights a week and he's just... he's so sweet and he's so perfect and he loves being with you so much. Maybe sometimes he doesn't even want anything sexual? Which yeah is wild cause Aegon is pretty much always horny, but when he's getting so thoroughly fucked every second day, sometimes he just wants to be with you.

Even when he doesn't want something sexual, that is not at all to say he doesn't still want to come be with you. Aegon would sleep in the same bed as you every single night if he could. He also just loves being able to talk to you about his day? You always listen to him and offer him advice. He's never really even able to feel like he can decompress at the end of the day, but now he's always able to with you. He knows that the moment he walks through the doors, you will know how to help him.

I think that eventually you'd accept his offer of him being your only client, and the day you tell him that he is smiling and giggling for the entire day. He definitely buys you a little cottage close to the keep, and as much as you try to say he doesn't need to, he won't hear it.

In fact he actually loves providing for you like that? You do so so much for him and he knows he'd never be able to function without you and so to know that he can do something to help you is just amazing and it makes him so so so happy.

I absolutely adore this concept!! This ask is already insanely long so I'm not gonna go any further here but if anyone else has thoughts about this let me know!!! I'd love to discuss it more :))

#subby Aegon!au #sub!aegon #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon smut #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd

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xveenusx · 1 year ago

Text

Indifference

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Two people who are in love, well he used to be

Authors note: you guys like when I make you cry

Rating: angsty

Warnings: it'll hurt :)

__________________

He was late.

Time was a funny thing. Minutes turned to hours which rolled into days then suddenly months began to blur into years. In that time, people tend to go out and experience things, falling in and out of love, enjoying everything life had to offer.

Yet, I somehow found myself motionless, the spark that once ignited my core had been stifled to a small ember. Life continued to pass by while I remained glued in one place, watching as everyone around me attempted to achieve some form of happiness.

I was once like that. Filled with some much hope for a life with someone I loved, who showed up to support me and believed in my capability, because at one time in my life that was exactly what Rafe was.

Like I said, time was a funny thing. The more time passes with your partner, the more comfortable they seem to get. They stop trying. However, at what point does being comfortable become almost negligent?

Dates were canceled, appointments missed, and important accomplishments forgotten the more time went on. Rafe’s priorities shifted and I went from being the center of his world to being a planet merely circling his gravitational pull.

In his mind, we were forever, so a couple of cancellations here and there and bouts of forgetfulness were nothing in the span of things. I would have agreed had the cancellations not doubled with time or our conversations going from intimate and deep to surface level at best.

He was never home. It was always just me in this large house on figure 8. Suddenly, he went from being the moon and the stars to just a bleak, unforgivable starless night. Cold and dark.

We had met when we were 16 and he was every bit a spoiled little rich boy that had extreme daddy issues, but there was more to him than that. I picked at his defenses until finally they shattered, and I was engulfed by all of him.

He was just different around me and that fact alone left me delighted. It made me feel special, almost stupidly so.

Things between Rafe and his father were already tense enough since Rafe bought a motorbike with the money he was supposed to spend on the generator. Then everything began to snowball out of control from there. He threw himself into his father’s work and when he wasn’t doing that, he was with Kells and Topper doing god knows what and snorting anything he could find.

Despite all of this, Rafe always kept me close and always let me in.

Last year, when Ward had gone with Sarah and John B to South America, and didn’t return, something shifted inside him. His defenses were rebuilt, only this time he left me on the outside, and no matter how hard I tried to break him down brick by brick, nothing worked. He became obsessed with running Ward’s real estate empire better than he ever did.

Rafe was a cold and calculated legacy with a large chip on his shoulder that made him lethal against competing firms. He chewed them up and spit them out.

With every major milestone, it was never enough for him, and like a man possessed he continued to ruthlessly target anyone that had done him wrong. We had everything and yet the bitterness seemed to consume him. He was someone I saw once a day if I was lucky. He always left before I woke up and was never home by the time I went to bed and suddenly we were glorified roommates.

Once upon a time, I would stay up waiting for him with my heart in my hand, hoping to connect in any way. Even if I only had a few minutes to spend with him before he went to sleep, it was enough for me. But, 10 pm became 11 pm which turned into 12 am and so I gave up. My sleep schedule was already a mess as thoughts and insecurities pestered my mind of another woman.

“Any word from him yet? Some of the donors are asking for him?” The question pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to face my assistant, Rai.

Her question is innocent enough, but I can hear the slight concern in her voice and I know she has her doubts which only serves as another humiliating reminder that Rafe has done this to me repeatedly.

But this was different. He knew how important this charity dinner was to the shelter I opened up for women and children who suffered from domestic violence.

As someone who came from the cut, it was everywhere and so many didn’t have the means to flee and so they were forced to stay and in the most severe instances, die.

Rafe gave me the start-up money as a gift and it was a huge success that I opened several more as well as fund for scholarships for both the mothers and kids. Which is what brings me to now, a charity dinner and auction to help fund said scholarships and pay for all the shelter necessities.

He promised he would be here. It’s important for the donors to see him here seeing as though he donated a huge sum once more and could ease the minds of those who are teetering on the edge. It’s also important to me. This project is mine, something I created and shared with the world and I want to share it with him too.

I want him to celebrate this accomplishment with me and he is nowhere to be found.

“He’ll be here. Rafe promised.” I clear my throat, “He knows how important this is to me.”

Rai gave me a doubtful look and I know that I couldn’t convince her anymore than I could convince myself. The engagement ring that bore my finger instantly weighed a ton.

Glancing down at the large diamond that once meant the promise of everything, stared back at me as nothing more than a simple accessory.

Rafe had proposed and foolishly I believed that it would save us so I said yes.

I stayed and time and time again, the disappointment slowly began to etch away at the childish hope I tried to cling onto until only a dull ache remained.

“Don’t you look lovely?” Plastering a fake smile onto my face, I let out a sheepish laugh as I take in Kiara’s parents.

“Thank you guys so much for coming.” The words ring true but I couldn’t help but feel like I was underwater. My focus is shot and I find myself hardly listening with my eyes darting to the front door every minute or so, desperate to see the man I used to think would never stop loving me.

I float around the room, committed to being a gracious host, because I would not let him take this from me too. Not when he’s taken everything else already. This is the only piece left of me.

My cheeks hurt two hours later from all the fake smiles and my throat burns from the feigned laughing. The sound of my own voice makes me wince.

In those two hours, I felt my confidence slowly get chipped piece by piece as everyone questioned where my fiancé was. And for a moment, I hated him. I truly hated him because even this small piece of heaven I made for myself is tied into him.

Honey, I need to run some numbers with Rafe. Where is he hiding?

Where is the biggest investor? Surely, he’s here, right?

I haven't seen Mr. Cameron. Has he stepped out?

With which I responded,” Work emergency, you know how it is. He’s nothing if not committed.” Considering most of these possible donors run their own large companies, they completely understand but it’s their partners reactions that seem to leave me stunned.

Each had a warm look of understanding dancing in their eyes as I’m sure they’ve used the same excuse time and time again.

I can only take so much. So I excuse myself and glance at the small gold heart shaped watch on my delicate wrist and take note of the time.

There was only 30 minutes left and I haven't gotten so much as a text from him.

A pit began to form where my stomach used to be as I realized once more that he wasn’t coming. As I stood in a packed room, filled with a flurry of activity, surrounded by people, I’ve never felt more alone.

Then my eyes connect with Mrs. Dune, the wife of a finance guru that works alongside Rafe. She was much older than I, having been with her husband for 30 years but she looked even older.

It’s almost as though she can read my thoughts, because she sends me a sad smile as she lets her eyes go to where her husband stands talking to other donors. I haven't seen him talk to her the whole night, instead she’s been standing at his side saying nothing.

I take an uneven breath and my eyes widen in realization. Was this what I had to look forward to? A life sentence of loneliness vacant of any warmth and attention?

Swallowing hard, I force my eyes away and stare at the door. Begging whoever will listen to please, this once, let me be wrong. I’m so in my thoughts that I’m startled when a soft hand lands on my arm.

“You get used to it. Eventually, you’ll feel nothing.” Mrs. Dune says quietly, her eyes moving back to her husband, with a look I can only describe as longing.

That’s the thing. I don't want to get used to it. This isn’t how I want to be loved.

“What you’ve accomplished is amazing. Don’t let him take that away from you.” Was her parting words and she left, not sparing her husband another glance.

When I turn to see if he noticed she left, he’s still engaged in conversations and doesn’t spare her a glance.

This is not how I want to be loved.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. This is Amy Park.” Rai looks ecstatic as she introduces me to the stunning tall woman next to her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Park.” The words come out on instinct.

“I wanted to discuss how open you would be to expanding shelters nationwide?”

And for the first time in awhile, a real smile graces my face as I answer her question.

_____________________

The first thing I notice when I pull into our driveway is the plethora of cars that fill it. The second thing I pick up on is familiar vibrations of music with each step I take along our pathway.

My front door is wide open as people come in and out, clearly under the influence of something and my chest constricts.

This is what he’s been doing? This was more important than me?

Clutching my keys tightly, I welcome the familiar biting against my skin. I recognize many of the faces, most of them having gone to school with Rafe.

If it was any other night, I would have joined them. We were only 22 and yet have lived what seems to be a hundred lives. But, this is different. He’s different.

Climbing up the staircase, I head to the balcony where I hear a familiar boast of laughter.

I cleared my throat. “What’s so funny?”

Heads snap in my direction but my eyes are only on one. One that currently has a short black haired girl nearly in his lap. I recognize her as a bartender at one of the local grills/bars we frequent.

“Don’t you look gorgeous-“ Topper attempts to run interference, but it’s too late. I raise my hand to silence him. I’ve already seen everything I needed too.

His body is positioned slightly in front of them as if I was going to body slam them. I might actually.

“Hey, wait! How did the donor dinner go?” Topper's eyes dart to Rafe’s. “That was tonight right?”

I see the moment everything clicks. His eyes rake down from my newly styled hair to the louboutins in my feet. Everything I wore from the jewelry on my body to the shoes on my feet he bought me, and I’ve never felt more sick.

Rafe clenches his eyes shut as he shakes his head. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed.

“Get out of my way, Topper.”

He throws a worried glance to Rafe. “I think maybe-“

“Top, give us a second.” Rafe mutters tensely. He keeps his hard set gaze on me, drilling into me, almost as though he’s daring me to move.

Kelce stands up giving me an apologetic look. “Rafe, man, there’s a bunch of people here.”

I force myself to look away.

“Not right now, Kells.”

He wasn’t wrong. This house was full of people, but the only difference being that none of them matter. Not to me and not to Rafe.

Steady. Keep steady and just breathe.

“So what should I do-“

I look at him. Me or them? It was unsaid but he knew what I was asking him.

“Back the fuck off and give me a fucking second with my girl.” Rafe barks out, running a rough hand through the short cropped strands that brush against his forehead.

Both hold their hands up in mock surrender before shuffling off to the side. The girl doesn’t get up.

Topper coughs. “Sophia.”

Her eyes take me in with clear distaste. Her hand is still dangerously close to Rafe’s waistband. I raise a single eyebrow giving her one last opportunity to move.

She doesn’t. Not when Kelce calls out for her either.

Sophia made her bed. Setting my bag down, I take three big steps before I’m roughly shoving her off the couch sending her sprawling on the floor.

Rafe let’s out a curse but makes no move to help her. At least he’s not stupid.

“Get out.” The words leave no room for negotiation.

The glare she sends me is filled with ice. “I was invited.”

Kelce lets out a groan before whispering,”Is she serious?”

The fake smile I’ve perfected over the years decorated my face as I bent down to her height on the floor.

Flashing my engagement ring in her face. “Get out of my fucking house.”

That seems to shut her up and I watch with narrowed eyes as she struts away, Topper and Kelce in tow.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears while my chest feels like it’s going to explode. I turn around slowly to face my damnation.

My heels click against the marble floor and with each step I take, the more the ache in my chest grows. Marching up to Rafe, I grab his chin and force him to look at me. Those familiar glacial blue eyes are red. His pupils are blown wide and my chest cracks wide open.

He’s high.

This is not how I want to be loved.

This is what he wanted to do instead of being there for me. Instead of supporting me. Instead of loving me.

Dying would be less painful.

I stare directly into those eyes, searching for an answer, wondering when the love he felt for me slowly became indifference.

I’d almost rather there be a mistress rather than this cold indifference.

“Did you have fun at least?” My words are soft but the intention is anything but.

He says nothing. Instead Rafe studies me like I’m a wounded animal.

Dark. Beautiful. Cruel.

Those are the words I’d use to describe the man in front of me. The gaze that once felt like a soft caress on my skin now felt clinical.

“It seems like you’re having fun.” I quip, flicking the small bag filled with familiar white powder.

I thought I could fix him. I will not make that mistake again.

“I completely forgot-“

“How?” I ask.

His eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure me out. “Work got insanely busy. You know how it is. Even if I own the place, I’m young and the older guys don’t respect me.”

“It was in your work calendar.”

“No, it wasn’t-“

“It was also on your personal calendar and our joint one. I had your assistant send you a reminder email. So my question is how?” My voice wobbled and it was only by a small miracle that I didn’t throw something in his face. “How did you forget the only thing I’ve asked you for?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “It wasn’t intentional. It slipped my mind.”

“Something I worked so hard to accomplish just slipped your mind?” Exhaustion has finally got the better of me and I finally let him see just how much he’s managed to chip away.

“I should have been there for you and I’m so sorry,” His throat flexed a hard swallow. “But there will be other dinners.”

The dull ache in my chest thrummed harder. Rafe was brushing this off, just like he always did. My skin flushed.

At my silence, he braces his elbows on his knees and leans forward, tracking my every move. “I feel like you’re not understanding me.”

“No, I understand you just fine. It just wasn’t important enough for you.”

He stilled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Of course it wasn’t what he meant but he’s managed to make me feel so insignificant. So small.

“I know that you’ve canceled most of our dates for work. Even an anniversary once. I know that you missed the grand opening of the shelter that I spent a year and half planning.” I force the words out, each breath I take feeling like needles. “I asked for this one thing, Rafe and you couldn’t even give me that.”

“What about everything I have given you? This house, the car you drive in, the clothes on your back, the boat?”

It’s like I’m staring at 16 year old Rafe again. To him, material things were the equivalent to love. He couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I find that I was much happier when I had little to nothing, than I am now, sitting here with everything, in my gown and jewels.

“I didn't ask for any of those things.” By the stubborn gleam in his eyes, I knew he was going to fight me on everything.

Lately, his tactic was always combative and it was easier to give in or to not say anything at all.

“No, but you took them all the same. I fucked up, I get that. I know what this shelter means to you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t even have it if it weren’t for me.”

A familiar buzzing filled my ears. His words were ugly but they weren’t a lie. Even my project was his. I had nothing of my own.

I wonder how many other people came to the same revelation. Maybe that’s why so many of them asked where he was? Because this accomplishment wasn’t mine, no clearly it was his.

There is not enough room in my chest for the ache he caused.

Words can’t seem to make it to my lips. I think my brain has finally broken and realizes that no words I say will get him to change.

Smoothing out my dress, I stand on shaky legs before kicking off my heels. He can keep them. With that, I leave him out on the porch and make a beeline towards our his room.

Opening the closet doors, I reach for the suitcase before setting it on the bed. I wasn’t going to be like Mrs. Dune and waste away beside a man that used to love me, hoping that one day he will once more.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The words are hard and low.

Rafe stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is brewing with several emotions I can't quite place.

It was funny. I haven't seen this much emotion from him in months.

I ignore him and toss some clothes from my dresser into the open suitcase, making sure to grab only the clothes I needed.

I slowly take off each piece of jewelry and set it on my vanity. He can keep everything he so gloriously mentioned he bought.

“You loved me once.” I state, tilting my head to the side. I rake over every detail of his face, knowing I’ll never forget it.

I loved him once too.

His face morphed to one of confusion before disbelief. “I still love you. That’s never changed.”

I shake my head. “Yes, it has.”

Rafe stalks towards me, his hand reaching to burl around my neck while the other pulls me to him by my waist. Familiar cologne fills my lungs and I count to ten mentally. It was the same cologne I bought him when we first started dating.

“I work too much, I know. That’s my fault and I’ll cut back. I’ll be home more and we can spend time together. I’ll do better.” Taking my chin between two fingers, he forces my eyes to his. I see the sincerity in his eyes but I know how this goes.

The same way it’s gone the last two times. He’ll beg me to stay, promise to change, and things will be good for a month before he slowly starts missing dates or canceling trips we’ve planned months before. Then the cycle repeats.

“No.” It was time to love myself. Since he clearly couldn’t do it. I will not allow myself to get lost in him again.

“Baby, just wait. Will you wait-“ He huffs as I try to move around him. No such success as his towering body has me moving back and suddenly I’m caged in by his arms. “Just give me a second, okay?”

“I’ve given you years. I won’t give you another second.”

“Talk to me.” His voice breaks. “Please just talk to me.”

Longing filled my body. Words I’ve been waiting to hear for months come so easily to him, but only when I already have one foot out the door.

“I’m alone.” The words come out strangled. “ I’m alone in this. I have been for a long time.”

“What do you mean? Baby, I’m right here.” Rafe’s gripping onto me tighter, almost like he’s ensuring I don’t leave. “I’m right here.”

“You're never here. That’s exactly my point.”

Rafe’s eyes widen before he shakes his head wildly, staring at me like I’m speaking another language. “That’s not true-“

“What’s today?”

“What?”

“What’s today?” I repeat, my eyes never leaving his. I want to see every emotion that storms in his eyes, just to remind myself that he is capable of emotion after all.

“Friday.”

I smile at him sadly. Exactly my point. “I haven't seen you since Tuesday.”

“No, that can’t be right. I was with you when we had lunch with-“ He breaks off, reaching for his phone in his pocket. I watch as he pulls up his calendar, an action that mortifies me, and confirms our scheduled date.

“Tuesday.” He whispers, shocked even.

I wasn’t. Rafe had to check his calendar to confirm that last time he’s seen his fiancé.

“You used to come bring me lunch. If you were more than a couple hours, you always found your way to me or gave me a call that you’ll be late.” I shrugged, blinking back the tears stinging my eyes. “Now, I don’t think I’d get a call if you were in the hospital.”

The buzzing in my ears intensifies.

“You didn’t tell me any of this. None of how you were feeling and you're ready to walk out the door without so much as an argument.” A spark of my old Rafe appears as frustration dances across his face.

“I should have-“

“You’re giving up.” He states, shaking his head in anger.

Maybe I was. “I’m tired of fighting for us. You gave up a long time ago.”

Large hands curl around my cheeks, pulling me towards his face. Rafe rests his forehead on mine, his piercing blue eyes darting across my face in panic.

“I love you. I love you.” He knows he’s grasping at straws, but we feel like strangers now. The words don’t feel like they used to. “You know I love you.”

“This isn’t how I want to be loved, Rafe. I see you every couple days, the only time we’re ever together is when we have sex.” We lost sight of how we once were. The only thing that remained good between us was sex.

That alone isn’t healthy. He goes to open his mouth but I cut him off.

“We never talk and when we do, you don’t even listen to me. Your brain is always somewhere else.”

“I’m in a relationship with a ghost. I’m not letting you suck the life out of me anymore.” My eyes catch the sparkling ring that once brought me such happiness. Now, it simply feels like a ball and chain.

Before I can convince myself otherwise, I start to tug it off my finger when Rafe truly begins to panic.

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that.” I try to hand it to him but Rafe jolts back like he’s been burned. The look he gives my empty hand is nothing short of destroyed.

I think I’m going to throw up. His words are laced with raw grief that makes it hard for me to breathe.

“Put it back on.” I hear the slight tremble in his voice.

“No.” My lips wobble.

“Please put it back on because if you don’t that means we’re over. That’s not us. We aren’t supposed to end.”

“Rafe, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“You’re ripping my fucking heart out of my chest. This isn’t anywhere near hard, it’s excruciating.” Rafe’s hand is notably shaking, but he tries to hide it by clenching and unclenching his palms.

“Welcome to the last year of my life.” The words are brutal but he needs to hear them.

“You promised me we’d never end.”

“You promised to change. I guess we both lied.”

Rafe raises his voice, his arms thrown up in the air in clear distress, “How can you just stand there?”

It was a miracle I haven’t collapsed on my shaky legs yet. The adrenaline pumping though my veins was the only thing getting me through this torture. “Rafe, stop it.”

“You talk about indifference?” Rafe lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head up at the ceiling. “Who’s heartless now, baby?”

“You don’t get to put this on me. I’ve given you years of my life, showered you with nothing but love and support. I asked for one night, one fucking night, in your busy schedule and you didn’t bother to show up, or send a simple text.” I intake a sharp breath, pushing the hair out of my face with a shaky hand. “Instead, you threw a party in our home and got high.”

I point a finger at his chest, staring at him with open heartbreak. “I needed you,” The tightness in my chest finally pops as I choke on a loud sob, “I needed you and you weren’t there.”

“I lost sight of what’s important to me. I’m just trying to give you everything-” I cut him off.

Grabbing the clothes I haphazardly tossed in the suitcase, ”You want this? Take it,” I shove them into his chest, “Take all of it. I don’t want it. I’d give this all away in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you back.”

I meant every word. I wanted my best friend back, the person I confided in and depended on. I wanted our late nights back watching trashy reality TV. We used to sit in the bathtub together basking in each other's company. Went on walks along the beach or took the boat out for hours, fucking on the deck, not caring that anyone could see.

It used to be simple. He loved me and I loved him.

“I’m angry, baby.I’m so damn angry all the time. At my fucking dad for always having these impossible expections. Then he goes and dies, leaving me without a clue on how to manage everything.” Rafe sags against the wall, exhaustion marring his features, his blue eyes pleading for me to understand. “I feel like I’m drowning all the time.”

I had no idea this was how he was feeling. But, he never let me in. “You could have told me, we’re supposed to be partners in this. You asked me to marry you!”

I think deep down I know that he felt me slipping through his fingers at one point. He could see clearly how unhappy I’ve become and that’s why he proposed. And maybe just like him, I thought the proposal could fix us. This proposal was being manipulated on both ends, it was doomed from the start.

You can’t fix what’s already broken.

“My head has basically been a war zone and I’m losing. The only thing keeping me sane is that I know, when I walk through that door,” he points to our bedroom door, “I’m going to find you in our bed. Every. Single. Night.”

“I can’t let the ugly touch you.” My heart splits into two at his words. Words I know feel like acid leaving his mouth. “You’re the only thing I have left.”

“Then you should have taken better care of me. You should have let me take care of you.”

“Fuck,” He screams, bending down and swiping the lamp clean of the nightstand. The lamp goes flying into the wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces and my eyes are drawn to them. I can’t help but think it reminds me of us.

Dragging my eyes back to his, I fight the urge to wrap him in my arms. Seeing him in pain has never brought me joy, but this was brutal. His eyes shined with unmistakable tears, realizing the strength of my resolve.

There was no going back this time. There was no trying again. I didn’t have another try in me.

I grip onto the fabric of my dress moving towards him, my heart pounding out of my chest. He moves instantly, holding out his hand to guide me over the shattered lamp. Why couldn’t he be like this months ago?

Why did he let it get this bad? Why couldn’t he love me?

Now, standing in front of him, I let myself one deep breath, basking in the comforting smell of him. A large hand curls around my neck, his grip strong and firm, demanding my attention. His blue eyes are daunting and so intense, I find myself fighting the urge to look away.

“I’m going to get you back.”

”Take it, Rafe.” I whisper, uncurling his limp hand, “Take it. It doesn’t mean what I want it to.”

Tears blur my vision as I fumble with the ring he refuses to take.

Rafe shakes his head, clenching his jaw tightly. “There’s no point in taking it off if it’s gonna go right back there in a couple weeks. ”

I can’t help but smile at the determination in his voice. He sounds like the old Rafe and for a second I see a glimmer of who he used to be.

He had me. Then he lost me.

This is not how I want to be loved.

“If spending the next few months without you means that I get to spend a lifetime with you, I can manage. I’ll do whatever I have to. But don’t think for a second that there is anyone else on this entire fucking planet meant for you.”

That’s how I want to be loved. Too little too late.

I drop the ring.

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe angst #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #drew starky angst #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks angst #obx angst #rafe cameron smut

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randomshyperson · 8 months ago

Text

Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together.

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around.

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.”

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army.

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms.

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.”

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better.

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you.

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers fics #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel #marvel imagines

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demonpiratehuntress · 1 year ago

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fictional boys (Monster Trio + Ace, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader

summary - their reactions to finding out you have a crush on a fictional character

warnings - slightly angsty in Sanji's part but otherwise none

a/n: Kaku is severely underrated and there is a shocking lack of fics for him

ZORO

You're always reading. This was normal for you, but Zoro had never seen you this engrossed in one before. You spent more time with that damn book than you did with him these days, and even napping with you was a pain because you always had it with you. And he didn't understand your obsession with it, until he overheard a conversation between you and Nami.

"So who's your favourite?" The orange-haired navigator asked excitedly, leaning forward for the gossip.

"(Random Name)," you answered just as eagerly, your eyes lighting up excitedly. "He's the coolest!"

"Right?" Nami agreed, a dreamy smile on her face. "And the hottest."

"Oh yeah definitely."

"Who's the hottest, now?" A familiar deep voice cut through before you two could get any further than that. Zoro stopped by the table, crossing his arms and looking unamused.

"A guy in this book," you answered your boyfriend, unaware of the hostility in his tone, "He's this really cool knight who-"

"I'm cooler."

You looked up at him in surprise, not expecting him to cut you off with those words, "What?"

"Your stupid knight," he clarified, "I'm cooler than him. And hotter."

You looked at Nami, who was trying her hardest not to laugh. Then you looked back at your boyfriend, who was looking at you expectantly. Waiting for you to agree.

"Zoro-"

"Oh, so you like him better than me?"

"No! I never-" You stopped, starting to smirk. "Wait...are you jealous?"

He glared at you, "I don't get jealous."

"Oh, alright then," you sat back, deciding to tease him. "Then I can tell you more about his heroics, if you'd like."

A growl followed your words, and the book was quickly pulled from your grip and tossed overboard. The silence was only broken by a splash, before you finally reacted.

"Zoro! What-"

"Mine," he suddenly lifted you up bridal-style, "All mine." He carried you off to his room to show you - remind you - who you belonged to.

"I'm way better than that shitty knight."

ACE

The last time Ace had seen you, you were reading. The next time he saw you, you were still reading. He had gone and had a whole island adventure while you'd apparently just lay on your shared bed with your nose buried in a book. He wondered what was so special and interesting about it, so when you went to go do something he picked it up and read a little bit of it.

"Ace? Are you actually reading something?"

You giggled from the doorway, watching as the second division commander jumped, startled, and dropped your book. He looked up at you, pouting slightly.

"Just wanted to see why it's more interesting than I am."

"It's not more interesting than you are," you denied, coming over to the bed. You sat down next to him, picking it up and checking if you still had your page marked.

"But you're ignoring me to read it!" He protested, crossing his arms. With that and his pout, he looked like an upset child. It was cute.

"I'm not ignoring you! It's just..." You sighed. "There's a character I really like and I want to see where his story goes."

"His?"

You realised your mistake too late. Ace's eyes narrowed, looking from your face to the book. For a moment, there was dead silence, before he suddenly burned your book to a crisp. Your eyes widened and you were about to scold him for that, but he quickly engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug, nuzzling his face against your neck.

"You don't need a stupid book boy, you have me."

"Portgas D. Ace, are you jealous of a fictional character?"

"W-what?! NO! I just...you know...you don't give me any attention anymore!"

"So you're jealous. Of a boy who doesn't exist."

He groaned, keeping his face buried in your neck so you wouldn't see the embarrassing blush that fell over his cheeks, "Not jealous. Just want you." Before you could tease him any further, he leaned up to kiss you deeply.

"I'm the only one who's allowed to have you, no one else. Not even some damn fictional character."

LUFFY

He doesn't think much of it when you spend most of your free time reading. He doesn't feel threatened by anything or anyone when it comes to you, but he is also very confused by the concept of fictional characters. So when he hears you and Robin gushing about one, he is only intrigued by what you guys are talking about.

"Did you get to the part where..." Robin was asking you, rambling on about one of the scenes in the book.

"I did!" You gasped, "And I loved it. Especially what he did."

With Zoro napping, Sanji cooking, Chopper making more rumble balls, and Franky and Usopp working on the ship, Luffy had nothing better to do than come sit and listen to you and Robin. When he heard 'he', though, his interest was piqued.

"Who's 'he' (Name)?" He asked curiously.

You blushed at his question, unsure of how to explain this to your boyfriend, "He's, um, he-"

"He's (Name)'s fictional crush," Nami answered for you, shooting you a playful smirk. She knew damn well what she was doing, and your eyes widened.

"Luffy-"

"What's a fictional crush?" He blinked, confused.

"Nothing!" You quickly responded before Nami could open her mouth again, "It's really nothing, it's not important."

"It means (Name) likes a boy in the book she's reading," Nami continued, "The same way she likes you, Luffy."

"NAMI!" The glare you shot her could make sea kings tremble.

"But why?" Luffy questioned, "(Name) said I'm the only one she likes like that."

"And that is true," you agreed, smiling as you gave him a quick but loving kiss on his cheek. Sometimes you were grateful for Luffy's obliviousness.

"Good, because I would have just fought him for you."

SANJI

Sanji was happy to see that you had found something to occupy yourself with while he was busy, so he wouldn't feel guilty about leaving you alone so much. He would bring you snacks and refreshing drinks while you read, happy to serve you and keep you satisfied while you enjoyed your mental adventure. But a conversation between you, Nami and Robin changed everything.

"(Random Name) is so hot," you were gushing as Sanji arrived with another tray of drinks, "Like, unbelievably hot. And he's so sweet, too. Definitely boyfriend material."

While Nami and Robin eagerly agreed with you, Sanji almost dropped the tray he was holding. His eyes went wide at your words, and he felt his stomach churn.

"My love...who are you talking about?"

He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but why would you openly talk about some other man in front of him? Is this how you felt when you saw him give attention to other women? He swore he would stop right now if it meant this person wasn't real.

"A guy from the book I'm reading," you smiled up at him, but faltered when you saw the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shook his head and forced a smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying the book, love."

"Sanji, he's just a fictional character," you turned to face the cook completely, "I wouldn't really date him, even if he was real. You know I only love you, and you alone."

Your words were reassuring, and Sanji was grateful it wasn't any real person, but the words 'boyfriend material' rang in his head again. He set the drinks down. Then, unexpectedly, he got down on his knees and clasped his hands together in a begging gesture.

"(Name), my sweet, beautiful girlfriend that I love more than anything else in the world, I promise to stop looking at and flirting with other women if you stop reading that book!"

You raised an eyebrow, realising that he really was jealous of (Random Name), "You really mean that?"

"Yes yes yes! Please!"

"You better keep that promise."

"I will, because I'm only yours and you're only mine."

KAKU

With Kaku's job being...what it was, you spent majority of your time at home in Water 7 alone. He was almost always away on missions, leaving you with nothing to do but turn to books to occupy yourself during the day. So in the absence of your boyfriend, it was only natural you would be drawn to fictional men as a way of receiving affection.

Kaku didn't expect to come home and find downstairs neat but empty.

"(Name)?" He called out, frowning when he got no response.

He came upstairs, finding you asleep on the bed with a book clutched close to your chest. He looked at the title - it was a romance. That made him feel guilty; he knew you didn't like romances, and that you only read them when he wasn't around. He tried to remove it from your grip so he could cuddle you instead, but this action stirred you and you slowly sat up.

"Kaku?" You blinked the sleep out of your eyes, then smiled softly, "You're back. Hi."

"Hi," he replied sweetly, returning your smile. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's alright," you reassured him, "I didn't realise I fell asleep. Must have read until I passed out."

He chuckled at that, before gesturing to the book, "What were you reading about?"

"This?" You looked down at the book. "Oh, I just heard from a friend it was good. And that the main male character is swoon-worthy, which he is. I can see why she liked it."

At the mention of the male MC, Kaku felt an unjustified and unnecessary bout of jealousy swell up inside him. You liked the guy in the book? Maybe if he had been here you wouldn't.

"You don't have to be jealous you know," you started to smile playfully. "He doesn't compare to you."

"I'm not jealous," he tried to deny it, but his rosy cheeks gave it away. "It's a fictional character, why would I be jealous?"

"'It'?" You teased, pulling him closer to you. "So jealous you can't even give him a pronoun." You laughed, and the sound relaxed the tense CP9 agent.

"Ha, ha," he replied dryly, wrapping his arms around you. "Come here."

"I love you, and only you," you smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Good, because it will only ever be me and you."

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iceclew · 5 months ago

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Can you hear the silence? Can you see the dark? Can you fix the broken? Can you feel, can you feel my heart?

Can you help the hopeless? Well, I'm begging on my knees Can you save my bastard soul? Will you wait for me?

BONUS - GIF Version BELOW

Weeeeell, i saw BMTH live this weekend and now I am obsessed with them.

And angsty Kafka appareantly..

But angsty Kafka was there before already, I just finally found the perfect fit OST for it. *shoves poor kaiju boi tighly at my spotify list* yesss..

No, honestly, even tho I love the fun, the action, and everything else in this series, I like the feeling of Kafka still having kind of a darker side to him.

One likes to forget, since he is kinda living his dream being a DF Officer. But he was actually a kinda depressed char at the beginning...? Thinking he is nobody, and can't get nowhere even tho he always tried hard for literally years over and over. Even doing your best can't guarantee your success. And he's struggling/fearing that even tho he got into 3rd Division it might not be enough. (SPOILERS FOR ANIME ONLYS) And struggles even more, when the DF finds more value in his kaiju form, than in him as a human.

I really like season 1 Kafka, but I especially love where they are going with his char-development, the struggle to stay human, and his inner struggle about his own worth. That was...man, that got me.. and his new OST(TM given by me) gives me so much feels about this, I just kinda mixed this fanart thingy into shape.. I know it's messy, but that's like what I wanted it to be? .. messy?... chaotic? (ﾟヘﾟ)

Also bonus - i tried animating in CSP because it looked fun :D

Today's fandumb was given to you by Bring me to Horizon spotify playlist, mostly:

Can you feel my Heart liMOusIne Throne Kingslayer YOUtopia and so on...

#kaiju no 8 #kn8 #kaiju no. 8 #kafka hibino #kafka #hibino kafka #fanart #icy's art

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absolutebl · 1 year ago

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10 Best BL Shows with the Hottest Sexitimes

Because this is English and word order matters, this title means the show itself has to be good AS WELL AS the scenes high heat, as opposed to the best sex scenes in BL. The two are not necessarily the same list. Anyway I tried to pick both high heat and a fun show. This was hard (pun intended).

FYI expect triggers with your high heat.

(Oh right. For me to get a 3/3 heat rating the BL has simulated sex in it or very close to it. And usually one or more other sexual acts like bjs, a-ply, etc...)

So, I went to the spreadsheet, and sorted it by high heat and then ranking, and here is what I got. I think #1 will surprise you. What will not surprise you is it's mostly Thai and Taiwanese.

10. TharnType (and follow ups)

Thai 2019 Viki

Should it still rank, all these years later? I am sorry to say, yes it should. University setting, great acting and complex characters, interesting friendship groups, enemies to lovers, seriously angsty coming out, high production values, AMAZING chemistry, multiple BL side couples with all the issues, damaging queer rep, strong seme/uke and husband/wife language, classic tropes and lots of them bad.

But it's famous for a reason.

This was KinnPorsche before KinnPorsche.

9. Addicted: Heroin

China 2016 Viki

When Chinese BL was good it was very dirty good and when it was bad it was censored. This is the model for that statement: rich kid falls madly for the genius poor kid in his class, starts an aggressive pursuit, includes kidnapping for love, obsession, stepbrother trope, plus some cheating. I love this BL because of what I could have been.

Just stop watching it after The Sex Scene. Okay?

8. Love Stage!!

Thai 2022 YouTube

This BL surprised me with its charm. The acting was good, the leads were appealing, support cast on point, and the production values high. It followed the original manga story arc relatively closely: boy falls in love with girl as a child, grows up to discover girl is actually a very pretty boy.

Although there are some quintessentially Thai changes that mellowed, softened, and extended the romance arc and heat levels.

7. HIStory 4: Close to You

Taiwan 2021 Viki

Nancy Chen directs, the side dish plot is basically a pastiche of problematic BL tropes inherited from the above. Great chemistry, high heat, stepbrothers, dubcon, obsession, stalker etc…

They sexy tho.

6. My Day

Pinoy 2020 YouTube

The set up on this one is enemies (also boss/employee) and they don’t like each other to start. But that gets resolved pretty quickly. And then they are some of the cutest, hottest, and best boyfriends ever.

This is an under-appreciated BL, IMHO.

5. Cutie Pie

Thai 2022 YouTube

Very high production (and heat) and a lot of visual references to live action yaoi gave this show a whiff of Japan but ultimately it stayed firmly in Thailand’s BL camp veering from absurd to appealing to annoying and then back to absurd again. If you can roll with the arranged marriage conceit and very lifestyle D/s relationships, the chemistry is spot on even if the plot is naff and driven by miscommunication.

Watch this one for the pretty, give it a pass on depth. (It has depth, it just depth of tongue kisses.)

Also the follow up: Naughty Babe

4. Bed Friend

Thai 2023 YouTube but for high heat you'll net to watch on iQIYI

Office frienamies transition a flaming hot one night stand into a f-buddy relationship that is built on a puppy/cat dynamic (and kinks into it at one point). Our puppy is loyal, smitten, and protective with endlessly longing eyes, while our cat is snarky, prickly, and deeply damaged (ALL THE TRIGGERS).

NetJames give lovely high-heat with excellent chemistry and tuned-in performances of surprising depth, unfortunately the story ultimately failed them. Had the show had the strength of its convictions and kept to a tighter, darker, harsher 8 eps it would have been the first high heat to earn a 10/10 from me, but once they fussed with it, it dropped to a solid 8/10. Could have been great but was overworked.

Still if high heat is your thing, this one will not let you down.

3. HIStory 3: Trapped

Taiwan 2019 Viki

Basically the definition of enemies to lovers from Lin Pei Yu. This is a cop + the mafia man he is chasing but WAIT, they fall in love. Added bonus side couple: assassin and nerd cop ALSO falling in love. It’s great. All the leads are stellar. Its high heat, fun action, and a bit of a mystery drama but pretty about all of it.

My only warning is that the main couple doesn’t entirely end up together, it’s implied, but… amorphous ending.

2. Why R U?

Thai 2020 Viki

No one knows what’s going on, not even the characters, but absolutely no one cares 'cause it's so thirsty. The plot seems to be "great chemistry and make sure Zee's shirts are NEVER BUTTONED PROPERLY." We, the collective, have a pro Hawaiian shirt anti-button stance, so rah rah rah! (Still the most confusing thing about this show is: why they didn't just title it YRU?)

The FighterTuror sex scenes still stand as some of the best ever fielded in a Thai BL. I will not be entertaining opposition on this matter.

1. Be Loved In House: I Do

Taiwan 2021 Viki

A cute classy office set BL with a few plot raised eyebrows, but no other concerns. ALL THE TROPES plus a general sweet softness that’s pretty rare from Taiwan, who usually prefer to go hard, but all their signature domesticity.

There is one high heat sex scene and it's great. But it's the whole package of classic sappy Taiwanese BL that puts this at the very top for me.

Generally just v high heat?

Hottest sex scenes in BL is frankly gonna be largely a matter of your personal taste.

But if the ones mentioned above don't work try:

KinnPorsche

Love in the Air

Big Dragon

HIStory 3; MODC (the BL that shall not be named)

Be Mine Super Star

Manner of Death (and anything else with MaxTul)

Oh My Sunshine Night (sides)

Secret Crush on You

Wedding Plan

Most dark JBL has very good high heat, but... ya know.

For @samara44 by request.

Dated Nov 2023, not responsible for amazing high head that came after.

(source)

#best bl that is high heat #good bl with good sexitimes #recommended bl #taiwanese bl #thai bl #chinese bl #pinoy bl #TharnType #Love Stage!!#HIStory 4: Close to You #Cutie Pie #Bed Friend #HIStory 3: Trapped #Why R U?#high heat BL

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whiskeyghoul · 7 months ago

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Pt.5 || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader]

First chapter, Previous chapter, Next chapter

A/N: Get ready for some angst baby. So this is my first time writing something close to angsty. Which means I might not have completely perfected it yet. Then again there needs to be a first for everything. I hope you enjoy reading, and if you do, please let me know. My reqs are also open if people have any ideas they want to see written.

WC: 2,7K

Tags: Mild angst, conflicting feelings, a little hurt/comfort?, alt reader, realizing feelings, I don’t think this chapter is considered fluff.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, feeling alone, hinting at past relationships?

Spencer POV

It was Thursday afternoon when Spencer had returned from a case. It was short, quick, which was nice because he wanted to go back to you. He had tried to call while away, to text you when he had time. Yet for some reason you hardly responded. You were slow to answer texts, the answers always short and quick. You had avoided his calls, when you did pick up they were equally as short as your texts. The tone was distant and a little cold. It was strange to him. The date had gone well, in his opinion, and he didn’t think he had done anything wrong. It was just a little nerve wracking. With every short message, every cut off call, his anxiety grew.

When they got back to Quantico, he was ready to head straight to your lab. Though he noticed there was no music when he arrived there, it was quiet inside. Too quiet. He gently knocked on the frosted glass door. There was no sound from inside, no light coming through the door. No indication that you were there. His shoulders sagged down, a little deflated. He had been looking forward to seeing you again, even if it was just to settle his own nerves. His hand found the cellphone in his pocket, he scrolled through the names until he found yours. Pressing the call button, he just really wanted to hear your voice. Needing to know if you were okay, if he hadn’t done something wrong. The phone rang, 3 times, heart beating out of his chest before you picked up.

“Hello, Y/N’s phone! Penelope speaking.” The familiar voice of their technical analyst sounded from the other end of the phone. Spencer furrowed his brow a little, “Hey, it’s Spencer… Is she with you?” He asked, his left hand holding on to the bottom edge of his sweater. “Oh! Spence! She just headed to the toilet, she should be back soon. Want me to take a message?” Penelope answered, her voice chipper, she probably didn’t know you had been avoiding him. Or if she did she didn’t let it show. “Can I come talk to her?” He asked, still a bundle of nerves, the bad kind. The one where a nauseous feeling settles in your stomach. Where every word could send him into a spiral if it was said with the wrong tone. “Ofcourse, I am sure you have a lot to talk about.” Penelope spoke, and he could tell there was something in her voice. She knew what was going on. It made his stomach sink further.

Just like that his feet started moving already towards Penelope’s office. “Thanks, I’ll be there in a minute.” Spencer said and quickly hung up before anything she could say would make it worse. He was quick, hoping to be there before you came back, so you couldn’t avoid him. He was there in a minute, like he had said, quickly and almost feverishly knocking on the door. The rapid rap of his knuckles against the solid wood sounded hollow in his ears. Penelope opened, trying to put on a bubbly smile. Though he peered past her to see if you were already back. No sign yet. “Hey, you should come in.” Penelope opened the door wider and he stepped past her. “Has she said anything? About me?” Spencer’s question felt weird. He didn’t want to come across as clingy, or that he was obsessed, but he just had to understand why. Why had you been avoiding him?

“Slow down boy wonder. I think I am not the one to tell you about that.” Penelope answered as she closed the door, pointing towards one of the desk chairs. Spencer hadn’t noticed how he had been nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet until she did. He sat down, trying to regain some composure. “Did I do something wrong? I thought the date went well. Maybe I rambled too much… That's usually what happens. I should have just stayed quiet, listened to her.” He rambled off nervously, his mind spiraling back to when he had leaned in and told a fact when you had been expecting something completely different. But you had kissed him after that, twice, it was so conflicting. Confusing. Paradoxical.

“Breathe!” Penelope urged, grabbing one of her many mugs with water and forcing it into Spencer’s hands. He took a gulp, hoping it would calm his nerves but it didn’t do anything. At Least he was silent. “Just…” Penelope sighed, “I can tell you that you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Spencer nodded his head, taking another swig of the lukewarm water. He hoped it hadn’t been out for too long, who knew what bacteria were growing if it had. Though the idea of it was a mere whisper in the back of his mind as his entire consciousness was taken up by his worried thoughts. “I should have told you before, I really should have but I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly.” Penelope sounded dejected. “What happened? Just tell me, please?” He didn’t like how whiny that please sounded, how desperate it made him sound. Even though he was desperate for answers.

The door to Penelope’s office opened, “Honestly Pen, I don’t get why you have to be so far away from the b-” You stopped your sentence as your eyes met Spencer. He was desperately clinging on to the cup he was holding like it was his life line. “Hi…” was all he managed to say when he saw you. Even with all the conflicting feelings, your appearance still left him a little tongue tied. You weren’t wearing the lab coat, so he could fully appreciate your appearance. The black and red patterned dress was cut low, and hugged your hips and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your arms are covered with fishnet fabric, some parts more ripped up to create a few larger holes. More important to him was the belt, two clips extending to hold the hem, hiking up the skirt of your dress to show off just a sliver of your thigh. “Spencer.” The way you said his name still made his heart race. He got up from his chair, placing the mug back on Penelope’s desk. The blonde in question nudged you, Spencer could almost see the thoughts swimming behind your eyes. You must be just as nervous as he is. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Penelope said, quickly walking out the door of her own space, leaving the two of you there. Spencer’s heart was beating so loud, he could feel the blood rush under the skin of his hands. It was too silent as you both looked at eachother.

“I want to-” “Why didn’t you-” Both of you spoke at the same time, breaking through the silence. There was a slight, awkward, chuckle that left Spencer. “You can go first.” He said, wringing his hands together involuntarily. “I want to apologize…” You said it softly. Spencer’s eyes flicked down to your right hand, twisting in the fabric of your dress. Your left was steadily turning a ring on your finger. Everything you did screamed nervous to him. “What for?” He asked, eyes focussed on you. He wanted to see everything, piece together every unconscious movement that would give away a deeper meaning. “For being a bit absent. I just… had a lot of work.” Lie. That was a lie. Spencer could see it. The way you averted your eyes, how your hand stilled in the twisting of the ring, your breathing hitched up as you said the last part of your sentence. Everything pointed to it being a lie. He hated that he could see that.

You felt the need to lie to him. To temper his feelings by trying to explain away what had really happened. There were tens of thousands of thoughts swimming through his mind about what could have happened. Did you meet someone else? Or realize he wasn’t your type. The differences being too big to make it work. “Could you tell me the truth?” He didn’t mean for that to come out. Especially when he saw the surprise in your eyes. “I am. I was busy, I had a lot of evidence to sort through, drugs, nail scrapings. I also had the reports to write and- and-” You were trying to convince yourself that it was the truth. That hurt. Apparently you didn’t want him to know the real reason. “Y/N. I am a behavioral analyst, I can tell when you lie. Please just… don’t? I want to know what happened, I thought we had a good time at the museum. I just, did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to, and I can’t change it if you don’t tell me.” He was pleading now. Eyes on you as you looked for an answer, lips slightly parted as you breathed out. Taking a step closer, reaching out his hand to yours. Just to hold it in his, feel you, decide if this was either a bad nightmare or a terrible reality.

When Spencer felt your hand in his he closed his eyes for a moment. This was real. He opened his eyes again, the only focus was on yours. Waiting. Watching to see your response. “Spencer, it wasn’t anything you did. Trust me. You did nothing wrong, it was perfect, and I wish I could have stayed in that museum forever.” You spoke, not averting your gaze, looking him in the eye with full confidence. Not even a tremor in your voice. That was the truth.

“Then what happened? I don’t like that you’re ignoring me. It feels like just the entire pit of my stomach gave out. Did I move too fast? I’m not good with these things. But I really, really, like you. You do all these things to me. Just… I can’t take the silent treatment. Not from you.” There it was with a sigh. His feelings, out in the open. Hoping it was enough for you to tell him what happened. Instead, you looked sorrowful, eyes almost glossy with what he realized were tears. “I really am sorry. I need time for something. I can’t talk about it now, I don’t want to pull you down with me. I will tell you afterwards, okay?” Your voice did nothing to soothe the pain of rejection he felt. Even though he so wished to believe you. You were hurt too and he didn’t understand why. Because you were the one pushing him away.

Spencer nodded his head dejectedly, a soft sniffle leaving him as he tried to not let the emotions overwhelm him. All the anxiety had left and was replaced by the cold, empty feeling of rejection. His nerve endings were no longer on edge, instead they were rather numb. “I’ll eh… I will go. Leave you to whatever you need to do.” His voice didn’t really sound like his own to him. Like he was running on autopilot and it was a preprogrammed recording. He let go of your hand, taking a deep breath, before he walked to the door. His hand was on the door knob when you called his name, when he looked over his shoulder at you you looked just as dejected. Your lips parted, like you wanted to say something, closing again, opening again. He could see you looking for the right words, but there were none. His lips formed an awkward, tight smile and he nodded. “Text me when you want to talk.” He said before leaving the room.

Closing the door with a hollow sound he took just a few steps before Penelope approached him. “What happened? Are you okay?” her voice concerned and laced with just a little pity. He didn’t need pity right now. He didn’t want to be around anyone. “Could you tell Hotch I need a personal day?” His question got a frantic nod in return. Clearly she understood it wasn’t something good that happened just now. “Yeah, yeah of course. Need anything else?” She answered, trying to be the good friend he always knew she was. He shook his head no, “I just need time.” He spoke softly before walking over to his desk. There was no comment from Derek, just a slight sympathetic look. He hated that.

Grabbing his bag and his jacket he quickly made himself ready to leave. JJ tried to stop him, files in hand ready to ask a question when he ducked his head and continued on. Not willing to talk right now he stepped on the elevator and pressed to go down. Walking out the door and straight to his car in the garage. When he finally reached his car and sat down it all hit him. His stomach felt heavy yet empty, but also like it was twisted in knots. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down a little, tears threatening to spill behind his eyes. Blinking rapidly to push them back. There was no need for tears. You went on one date, he shouldn’t be this attached, yet he is. From the moment he had entered your lab he had been awestruck. Then, in the following week, he had started rambling and feared he had messed up by doing so. Yet you just smiled, asked more questions, let him ramble and rant about everything and anything. Content to hear him speak. He didn’t feel like an annoyance.

Spencer sighed, putting his key in the ignition and turning it, the song that came on was still on the same radio station that you had put it on, depeche mode sounding through the speakers. Quickly, his hand reached out, changing the station to anything else. Not wanting to be reminded of you immediately. He pulled out of the parking lot, driving home, a welcome distraction from his thoughts. When he got home though, he felt completely drained. Placing his bag near the front door, dropping the jacket over it. Toeing off his shoes before walking further into the apartment. He sat down on the couch. Once again alone with his thoughts. He leaned his head back, resting it against the top of the couch as he closed his eyes again. Rubbing his eyes with another sigh.

He wondered what it could be. What the reason for your coldness was. The fact that you seemed reluctant about it just made it weirder. He cursed himself for being able to read your expressions, your movements, to deduct anything from your behavior. He wished he didn’t know because it would have made it so much easier to be angry with you. To feel betrayed, led on, or even used. Instead he knew that you were just as torn up about what happened as he was. It made it feel even worse. He knew there was a reason, but the fact you were not willing to tell him hit the wrong nerve. Eyes opened on the ceiling, the faded green color perfect to get lost in. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. Head tilted back, looking at the ceiling as his mind was both working over time and thinking of nothing. A weird combination of feeling too full yet completely empty. Watching the shadows stretch further and further, slowly fading until there were no longer any shadows cast on his ceiling. It was just dark.

That’s what it was like. The night taking over the sunny feeling he had felt. An end coming to the light he had felt for the past two weeks. The nocturnal cold setting into his body. How he hated the realization that dawned on him that moment. He didn’t just like you. He had fallen all at once, during that first meeting, without realizing. Now it was too late to tell you. He doubted you even felt the same. So now he was left to suffer the heartbreak on his own. To deal with the conflicting emotions you left him with.

At least the night was quiet enough for him to think.

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #alt reader #goth reader #she blinded me with science #tumblr writer #hurt/comfort #part 5 #multi part fic #spencer reid x goth reader #spencer reid x alt reader

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

Note

hi there! (ok FIRST AND FOREMOST i need to tell you that i am obsessed with your writing. you are by far my favorite jamie tartt writer, you characterize him perfectly and nail his speech mannerisms! not an easy feat! so thank u for writing what you do and for sharing it with us!!!! <333333 ok now that i've gotten that off my chest) if you're taking requests right now i'd love to see your take on a (slowburn?) enemies to lovers fic with jamie!!

I don’t know why I take simple little prompts and turn them into angsty monstrosities. This one makes up for the lack of plot in my other fics, and I’d like to apologize in advance😬

Oh also I am the queen of commas, in case you didn’t know 😇😇

flipped the script

It cannot be considered murder if you’re provoked. It would be considered doing the world a favor.

And by god, you are going to fucking murder Jamie Tartt.

He does absolutely fucking nothing but make your life fucking miserable and you’re fucking losing it.

The only thing you’d agree on is when it started. It was 4am and he was yelling at someone called Roy and you had to be awake in two hours for a fucking conference, and you’d only just fallen asleep at 1am.

So you marched out of your house to the sidewalk where your prick neighbor was arguing with his prick coach and told him to shut the fuck up or I’m calling the police.

He opened his mouth to retort, changed his mind, then made a snide comment about your choice of outfit while you glared at him. His prick coach had the decency to apologize and smack Jamie on the head, so you said, “You’re fine, Roy, I’ll see you at work next week,” and Roy said, “Ah shit, you have that fucking conference, yeah?” and you said yeah then flipped off Jamie as you walked away.

You really hadn’t had many interactions with Jamie before, but you knew him before you started your job as an administrative assistant for AFC Richmond since you were, after all, living right next to each other.

Your last job had paid incredibly well; you were basically the go-to girl for your last company for two and half years. You compiled all relevant information from the day and presented to your boss so he would be caught up on the company’s inner workings. You were observant when it came to valuable (or toxic) employees, and had gained a reputation for being an invaluable asset.

But your old boss was retiring and you were ready for something new, so you began looking around. You found a job at AFC Richmond, assisting a Mr. Higgins and just generally making sure his job ran smoothly so the club could run smoothly.

It was mostly paperwork, but you enjoyed it. You collected data from all different departments and then ran it by Higgins and Ms. Welton. You weren’t above coffee runs; it was nice to get out sometimes and Ms. Welton would put your coffee on her bill. You got to take your lunch breaks with them and talk and laugh, and be appreciated, which is something you didn’t often get.

The nature of your job demands a certain level of… professionalism, shall we say, which can be misconstrued as coldness. You’re not. You’re just young and trying to be taken seriously, which is why it’s nice to be known both in a personal and professional capacity by Higgins and Ms. Welton. Higgins has even invited you over for family dinner and you’d invited his family over to yours. His boys had absolutely lost their minds at the amount of nerf guns you had stashed in each room, courtesy of your brother who often liked to drop by unannounced when he knew you were home and get you in the back of the head. Sometimes you regretted giving him a key, but not enough to take it back.

All that to say, it was a relatively seamless transition to AFC Richmond. You and Jamie would exchange a neighborly nod if you saw each other, but that was absolutely it.

—

The next incident is, uh, kind of your fault.

Remember the brother-and-nerf-guns thing?

Yeah.

Your brother had sneaked over on a Sunday (parked around the corner so his car wouldn’t be seen on your security cameras) and you were chasing each other around the house. Your sister-in-law had warned you he was coming over (he asked her to drive him), so you were prepared and hiding in the bushes. He was nonchalantly walking on the sidewalk, hands in his hoodie, when you popped out and got him right in the chest then booked it into your house, which led to a solid fifteen minutes of running and yelling, with the occasional, “Ow, you jerk!” that siblings are always saying but never really mean.

The incident occurs when you’re once again in your front yard running from your brother. You look back to assess how far away he is when smack, you run into someone and feel their beverage go flying.

It’s Jamie, and his bright pink drink is now all over his clean white hoodie.

You both stop and glare at each other.

You had stopped feigning civility after the 4am thing, so the glare is standard procedure.

Jamie says, “What the fuck?” as your brother comes careening to an abrupt halt.

You’re still glaring. “Why are asking me ‘what the fuck?’ You’re the one walking around here with that fucking awful drink that’s probably going to kill your internal organs. I mean seriously, it cannot be safe to consume something that bright.”

“Says the girl who’s addicted to diet soda.”

“Says the girl who’s fucking pissed that her sidewalk is stained fucking bright pink. How the fuck am I supposed to clean this?”

Jamie’s face is red now, and yours is too.

“A), it’s a fucking public sidewalk and b), what about my fucking sweatshirt? This cost more than your shitty car!” he shoots back, and that’s the moment a line is crossed.

“We live in the same goddamn neighborhood,” you hiss, “so shut the fuck up with your stupid elitist footballer bullshit.”

“Oi, at least I’m not a fucking stuck-up, self-righteous big-shot with no friends!”

You’re not sure what would have happened next because your brother grabs you by the arm and hauls you back inside, waving apologetically to Jamie. All the fight goes out of you as soon as the door shuts.

“What the ever-loving hell was that?” he asks. He never did like using the word “fuck.”

—

What the ever-loving hell was that? Well, it’s actually quite simple. In the seven months you’ve been at Richmond, you haven’t really made any friends.

Yes, you have Ms. Welton and Higgins, but that’s not the same as having people the same age as you to go out with and watch movies and drink and dance and just be stupid and unwind with.

You’re not even necessarily looking for friends at Nelson Road, just friends somewhere. The problem is, you’re not even sure how to go about it. You’ve spent the last decade of your life (yes, decade) working your ass off to get where you are now. Fourteen year-old knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. You had hustled through school, made connections, grew your resume, and saved every fucking penny until you landed a job that you were definitely under qualified for, but you had nailed the interview. You weren’t sure why your boss decided to take a chance on you, until he told you later he saw the same spark his daughter had in your eyes.

His daughter, who had become a multi-millionaire on her own by the time she was twenty-seven.

So, because someone saw the grit in your eyes of all places, you had a chance to make a fuck ton of money and have a fuck ton of benefits.

You made more connections, including a realtor who set you up with your current home at a price that was insane to normal people, but a steal to the rich. You were signing papers before it was even officially on the market.

It had been labelled as a “fixer-upper,” but that meant a little bit of scuffed paint and slightly outdated utilities.

And it was yours.

It all came at a price though, didn’t it?

That price was not seeing your family often, sleeping poorly, and no real friends.

That’s why your brother makes it a point to come around. He knows that your lack of contact does not equate a lack of love.

Not everyone saw it that way. You’d lost all your friends at this point, labeled a bitch and a workaholic. So, you though, why the hell not just lean into it. You could be a bitch and a workaholic if it got things done. It was easier to harden the shell around your heart than let people in again.

—

Ok, maybe taking out all that anger on Jamie isn’t healthy, but hey, he’s the one fighting back so hard.

Things keep happening. His foot is stuck out just enough to make you stumble as you pass each other in the hallway, your car is parked on the street just enough so he can’t get into his garage, ferocious glares are exchanged. Any conversation you are forced to have is laced with sarcastic, biting remarks that only serve make you close off even more.

The worst part? You’re both fucking brilliant at hiding it.

You’d have to be, especially at AFC Richmond under Ted Lasso’s command. If he got wind of this, he’d be all over it trying to fix it and neither of you want that.

You see, Jamie’s a little bit fucked up too.

—

You’ve been at AFC Richmond for a year, and you’ve hated Jamie Tartt for eleven months.

Yet somehow, you’re in fucking Paris.

Not with just Jamie, of course, but the whole team.

Rebecca’s basically given you a paid vacation because there isn’t much for you to do here. It’s great, the city of lights or something, but you can’t enjoy it.

You’re in your room on the floor, becoming slowly dehydrated from crying.

Everything is all fuzzy and you’re incredibly disoriented, so you think you might be hallucinating when you hear a knock on the door.

It happens again, more insistently, and you think it’s probably Rebecca so you drag yourself up off the floor, wipe your eyes, and open it to find Jamie Tartt standing in front of you, clearly wishing to be anywhere else.

He’s staring at the top of the doorframe as he says, “Coach sent me to see if you want to go out with the lads tonight,” looking down only when you’ve left his statement unanswered for far too long.

His look of annoyance changes as he clocks your puffy eyes and red nose.

“You alright?” he asks and you don’t even have the heart to say, obviously, don’t I look it? so you just nod and move to shut the door.

Jamie blocks it with his hand and pushes it back open, then past you into the room.

It’s pristine, all marble and gold; and far too big for you. You would have preferred something smaller, something less empty. Something less cold.

All you can do is stand there mutely in your t-shirt and sweatpants, watching your worst enemy clatter around in the room’s fridge looking for a water bottle.

He retrieves one and hands it to you, cap unscrewed.

You don’t ask if he’s spit in it, just take a sip and look at him with dead eyes.

“You look like shit,” he observes, breaking the silence.

It’s not a dig. You’ve heard enough condescension from his lips to know when he’s fighting.

You shrug.

“You gonna say something?” Jamie asks, and that’s enough to get you going.

“You’re the one who’s in my room,” you say and instead of firing back, Jamie grins.

“We can go to mine if you want, love,” he winks and in a terrible, awful, panic-inducing moment, you are thrown completely off your guard.

How the fuck are you supposed to reconcile this Jamie Tartt with the awful neighbor you hate? And is he- flirting? Surely not.

He registers your face going through a million expressions in an instant and sobers.

“Go sit,” he says, and you comply without thinking. You’re cross-legged on the couch and he thumps down next to you. He’s not close enough that you’re touching, but you can feel the heat radiating off his body. It’s funny, because you feel so cold. You wonder for a moment if your heart has actually turned to stone and that’s why you’re shivering.

You hear someone say, “My ex is here,” and are horrified to realize that you’re the one talking, and not only that, but you’re continuing.

“He fucking… knew I’d be here. I saw him in the lobby. He acted like it was some great coincidence, but he was never a great liar. And… he’s here with his girlfriend. Fiancée, I guess. Because he’s proposing to her tonight. They’ve known each other less than a year, and he’s proposing to her. I saw him in the lobby looking like this while he’s in a fucking suit and all I can think about is the fact that he broke up with me because I wouldn’t put out because I wasn’t ready. And how he said he wasn’t the marrying type.” You pause.

“I broke my back making time for him. Everyone thinks I’m a workaholic and maybe I am, but I make time for the people I love. I made time for him. It sounds funny to say, especially how I am now, but he’s why I don’t anymore. Make time, I mean. Nobody notices I’m gone anyway. Or when I’m around. Or anything I do unless I’m doing something for them.”

You risk a look at Jamie. He’s studying your face with an intensity you’ve never seen and you look down to find his hand in yours, and you wonder how that happened. Your knuckles are white from gripping it but he’s holding it back and it gives you just enough of a boost to keep going.

“I don’t even want the money for myself. Like, I’m able to buy expensive shit and that’s cool, but the only reason I have a house that big is because my brother and his wife have a shit-ton of kids, and sometimes they need a break. So they can come over to mine and run around and have space and be wild for a week and I don’t care. They won’t let me give them money, so I have to think of creative ways to help them out. I only have nephews- they each have their own trust fund. It’s not that big right now, but it’s growing. It’ll be a lot by the time they’re each eighteen. And my parents… They died when I was fourteen. It was a stupid car accident, this freak thing with the brakes even though they’d just had the car serviced a week before. My brother was twenty one and newly married because he’s an idiot and he was in love. He and his wife let me live with them.”

You shake your head. “No, that’s not right, they didn’t just let me live with them, they took care of me. Bought me clothes and fed me and let me have my own room even though I said I could sleep on the couch. They could barely afford things for themselves, but they made sure I had what I needed. That’s why I threw myself into work and pushed people away. It’s for them, because I know I can never repay them. But I want to, even if they won’t let me.”

You’re done speaking, finally, and your face is bright red. It normally is when speaking to Jamie, but that’s from the sheer anger you usually feel from having to deal with him. This time it’s different. It’s from the embarrassment of being vulnerable in front of someone.

Jamie hasn’t said anything the whole time, just let you hold his hand. Your knees are touching now, and you realize that one of you must have shifted to make that happen.

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Why are you here, Jamie?” you ask softly. “You hate me. I don’t even know why I told you all that.”

He looks straight into your eyes. “I don’t hate you,” he says simply.

That’s enough to fully shatter the shell around your heart, and you’re shaking with silent sobs again as Jamie pulls you closer, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

—

You fall asleep like that, and you’re not sure at which point Jamie left. But when you wake up, you’re in your bed under a blanket. You think maybe you dreamed the whole thing until you see the note on your nightstand in messy handwriting.

I meant what I said.

—

Neither you nor Jamie comment on it, but something has changed. You don’t hate him anymore. He sits next to you on the plane back and cracks jokes, and you have a weird opportunity to apologize. He tells you he’s sorry too, explains about his dad, and you form a strange bond of repressed anger as a way to deal with hurt.

Ted is right, forgiveness is the way to go.

—

Jamie Tartt makes it a point to ask you to go out with the lads every time they do group activities. You meet Rebecca’s friend Keeley, basically the only other girl, and pretty soon she’s invited herself over for girl’s nights. Jamie recognizes Keeley’s car the second time it happens and walks over to say hey. She invites him in, and suddenly he’s a fixture at girl’s night. His movie recommendations are shit, but his skincare products are not.

Since things at AFC Richmond aren’t as hectic as you’re used to, you start to pick up some of your old hobbies. Cooking, for example. You get your hands on a copy of Jamie’s diet plan and start experimenting with ways to make it more interesting. So now he’s at yours for dinner more often than not.

He pops his head over the fence one Saturday afternoon, hearing young voices all morning. Your nephews are over and playing football in the backyard while your brother and sister-in-law deep clean their house. You’re sitting under an umbrella with the baby in your arms and a pitcher of water, when you hear Isaiah, the oldest, say, “Whoa! Is that Jamie Tartt?”

You look up from Daniel’s tiny giggly face to see Jamie hanging over your fence and waving. You roll your eyes and grin back.

“Wanna come over?” you call, and the words are barely our of your mouth before he’s hopped over and starting to steal the ball from your four walking nephews.

They’re at it for a good thirty minutes before he calls time-out and is jogging over to you, all sweaty and grinning.

“Didn’t know you were good with kids,” he says.

“Could say the same thing about you,” you shoot back.

He grabs water then makes a silly face at Daniel, who giggles and waves his arms. You laugh and kiss the baby on the top of his head, which makes him gurgle. You look up to see Jamie watching you strangely, so you wrinkle your nose at him. “What?” you say, but before he can open his mouth to respond, Jesse is pulling on Jamie’s hand, telling him the time-out is over.

—

Your next interaction of note happens after your third consecutive Richmond match. You don’t usually go to them, as it’s not required and you didn’t really care. But since you’ve been hanging out with the team, you find yourself taking Rebecca up on her offer to sit in the owner’s box. It’s three days until the next match and you’re looking for Jamie so you can eat lunch together. You find him in the locker room of all places and hand him his bag of food, yet another one of your experiments.

You’re starting to get really good revitalizing Jamie’s meal plan.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and you both miss the looks exchanged between Ted and Beard in their office.

Jamie puts down the lunch and says, “Oi, I got you something.” He reaches into his locker and pulls out a Richmond jersey.

“It’s new, it ain’t one of mine, but now you can wear it to matches.”

You shake it open to see it’s a Jamie Tartt jersey, and this makes you unreasonably happy.

Jamie’s grinning too, and it’s the rare kind of grin where his teeth look sharper and his eyes flash.

You hug it to your chest and say, “I’ll be sure to wear it Saturday,” before you and Jamie head to the café to eat.

—

Keeley, of course, has comments about the jersey. You pretend not to understand what she’s saying.

—

It’s girls night again, and you and Jamie are pulling snacks out of his cabinets when your phones ding at the same time. It’s Keeley on your groupchat.

Can’t make it babes, something’s come up.

You make a comment involving the words “Roy Kent,” and riffing on her excuse, which makes Jamie laugh.

“I guess I’ll head back to mine,” you say, but Jamie tilts his head and says, “Or you could just… stay,” so you do.

You’re on his couch again, like the night you stopped hating him: your back agains his chest as you rub your thumb absentmindedly on his tattooed forearm.

You’re midway through the movie and explaining to Jamie the limited plausibility of it happening in real life, when he says a soft, oh shit as you pause to take a breath.

“What?” you say, sitting up. “Is everything alright?”

Jamie rubs a hand across his face. “You’re gonna fucking hate me again.”

You squint. “Not sure that’s possible. You’ve got too much dirt on me.”

Jamie just groans. “Nah, you’ll hate me. But I’m gonna tell you anyway.”

He grabs your hand and looks you straight in your eyes, giving you goosebumps.

“I’m fucking in love with you,” he says, and your brain still functions just enough to crash your lips into his.

You’re on top of him and his fingers are tangled in your hair, but as your fingers ghost his waistband, he stills and grabs your hand.

You freeze too, afraid you’ve crossed a line, but Jamie says, “I’m not fucking you for the first time on my couch. We’re going to do this proper,” and then he’s whisking you off your feet and up the stairs.

—

You know that fucking someone you work with is a line you said you’d never cross. But he was your neighbor first, and you’re in love, so it doesn’t count. You’re lying on Jamie’s bed gasping for air after god knows how long and all you can say is, “fuck me.”

Jamie smirks. “Thought I just did, babe, but I’ll go again,” and you’re seeing stars for the third time that night.

He’s sucking a line across your collarbone when you say, “Wait!”

Jamie is off of you in a moment, and you feel strangely empty.

“You alright?” he asks, all concern.

“I never said it back,” you explain. Jamie’s still confused.

“I love you too. You said you’re fucking in love with me. I’m in love with you too. Just thought I should make it clear.”

Jamie’s looking at you all strange again, eyes dark, so you roll him back on top and let him devour you.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine

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