#and was sad that i hooked up w someone else for some reason

[twilve]

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[rjunhuang]

how the harry potter boys would react to you hooking up with someone else.

featuring: harry potter, ron weasley, draco malfoy, fred weasley, george weasley. part two.

warnings: lowercase intended. gender neutral reader. informal writing?? they're a bit toxic.

note: can you believe i wrote this in 2023? it was an unfinished draft featuring more characters. i might make a part two w them included. also i do NOT like draco lol so i'm a little biased when i write him. honestly send in some requests on what other prompts you'd like to see w them

divider by enchanthings | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

harry!  he'd highkey be so salty about it. at first, he's just completely off put and hurt by the thought of you going out with someone else. HE THOUGHT Y'ALL HAD SOMETHING GOING ON </3

his literal initial reaction would be, "oh.. montague, huh.. hm uh.." before walking away from the conversation all together.

if you're a dumbass, you'd assumed he's just incredibly awkward when it came to hearing about other people's relationships, but supportive nonetheless. oh, you're wrong though. he walked off because he had no idea whether to be angry at himself for not pulling any sooner or at you for choosing someone slimey as graham montague to swap spit with or maybe just montague himself.

the longer this fling lasted, the more comfortable harry would be about expressing his distaste on the whole relationship. he'd given you lectures about how you shouldn't like those type of slytherins. you'd probably lost track on how many times he had indirectly called montague ugly. 

he would visibly show attitude whenever montague interrupted a conversation between you two. eye rolled and scowled like crazy, but he doesn't want to step the line as he's just seen as a friend by you —

"hey, mate, can't you see i'm trying to have a chat with her?"

he'd have dreams about hexing the shit out of graham though. maybe he'd slyly done it in the middle of class when no one's looking too.

if you accuse harry of doing so, he'd simply just shrug, "don't look at me." but would add a silent, "he had it coming though." 

it's like a silent warfare between him and montague soon enough. both of them would be throwing attitude around when you're lowkey oblivious to it all. harry won, obviously, and this would be the breaking point - montague had enough of dealing with harry so he'd just ended things with you. of course, harry's going to comfort you if you do get sad about it —

"i just don't know why he'd do this out of nowhere." you sulk under the hold of harry, both sitting on an empty hallway's staircase. harry has his arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulder. "yeah, wonder why.."

he'd had a massive ego boost knowing he was the reason graham montague won't go near you anymore. literally would have to hide his smirk the entire time when comforting you. but he wouldn't be harry potter if he wasn't ending it with a snarky comment. he's not sure whether you'd slap or kiss him for it, but he surely wouldn't mind it being both.

once you and harry finally ended up together, the thought of montague wouldn't even cross his mind. he wouldn't care less about some random troll-looking fool. probably didn't even notice the dirty looks from montague because his eyes are on you. you had his undivided attention.

ron!  he'd thought it's some sick, twisted joke. you'd told him the news that you're hooking up with cormac and just watched ron's face morph from being mortified to plain old disgusted. regarding situations like these, i think ron is a bit emotionally immature so he definitely wouldn't react well.

it had been saturday morning and almost everyone fifth year and above were recovering from a wild friday night common room party. that was the first night you hooked up with mclaggen and this morning, on the way to the great hall, he had pulled you aside to suggest making it a common occurrence — "some fun, no need for any strings attached." were his words. you had brought this up in the table during breakfast when hermione pointed out your flushed expression. the news leaves everyone shocked, but most especially ron. hermione had opened her mouth to begin reasoning with you, "i don't thin—" "THAT'S DISGUSTING!" ron wouldn't even beat around the bush, cutting off hermione. his mouth would be full with scrambled eggs and toast since he had stopped bothering to chew the moment you mentioned the word 'hooked up'. you'd mutter back a petty, "bold coming from the git with his mouth full." obviously hurt by his words.

it only worsened from that point onwards. the beautiful friendship you had with ron would crumble in a matter of time. it's constant fights with you two, ron's almost waiting for a reason to scowl or scoff whenever you're around. good luck even mentioning cormac in front of him, he'd just burst. the jealousy was so undeniably obvious yet you'd be so caught up in the anger of all of it to even realise. had it been someone less athletic than cormac, ron would've jumped him the moment he found out. 

he'd be a petty little bitch but all the dramatics are to hide his insecurity. of course you'd chosen the conventionally attractive hunk over him. he'd be pretty rough on himself because of it; it's pure heartbreak for him. he'd never admit it but he's cried once or twice after storming off from a fight with you. 

the end of your friendship with him would be in a final argument. merlin knows how it started, you never do. but almost a month into your fling with mclaggen, you've grown tired of ron's immaturity. so this time, you ask him.

"why are you even so pressed about this?!" you'd shout to ron. to which he'd counter with, "because he's a dim-witted fool who's only going to hurt you!" the frustration was unbearable as you lick your dry lips, raking a hand through your messy locks. ron is standing opposite to you, chest heaving from the intensity of the situation, yet he shamelessly takes a glance at your lips. "then if you're such an expert at this, tell me who i deserve to be wit—" ron must have a knack for interrupting others because he pulls you into a kiss, frowning as he does so. it's his final desperation for you to just hear him out. and you do, you kiss back and you're hit with the original passion you've always felt for him that these fights had blinded from you.

it's the end of your friendship and the beginning of a romance.

draco!  draco's love language is definitely cliche bullying. without a doubt, he doesn't know how to show affection to anyone at all so you two would definitely be enemies of some sort. i think he'd lowkey be oblivious to the fact that he's straight up mean to you but you've literally had enough of it. you'd had a crush on him since your first year together probably and eventually you caught his eye as well — except for all the wrong reasons. he grew a knack for constantly belittling you in some kind of way even remotely possible to him. though, in his eyes, he always saw it as flirting and you being into all of it. you accepted the attention for what it was and grew to expect his taunts during classes. shamelessly, you did enjoy the fights the two of you shared. however, 'banter' could only last for so long and you eventually grew insecure of the words spat from malfoy. your friends encouraged you to move on and you finally decided to take their word. you supposed you had a type for slytherins, seeing how harper soon enough came into your life. he was a good distraction from malfoy to the point that even the (apparently natural) platinum blond took notice of your distancing. you stopped countering draco's remarks with snarky quips nor did you even bother to spare a glance at him anymore. draco hated the feeling he failed to recognise as heartbreak. he was so caught up in this feeling that he ordered crabbe and goyle to snoop around and find out what changed about your life. it didn't take much investigating to discover the budding romance between you and harper. draco was far more distraught than he thought he'd ever been about the news - but what malfoy's goons failed to communicate was that you and harper were barely anything serious. 

despite that, draco was consumed by emotion. his immediate reaction after his minions left his dorm room was to owl his father with a letter demanding to expel harper from hogwarts. lucius' response, though, was an eerily formal letter telling his pissbaby of a son to never waste his time with such nonsense again. in other words, his father had completely shrugged him off. thus, draco hopped onto the plan b — which was to gang up on harper with his goons. draco liked to claim no one is on his level enough to be his friend, however, he had grown to like harper before this situation arose. they both shared interests in quidditch and shaming others of their blood status. 

soon enough, he had been on harper's case, constantly mocking the other slytherin boy whenever draco found the chance. it was no secret draco had a superiority complex over the fact that harper was the reserve seeker on the slytherin quidditch team whilst draco himself was the main seeker — so this became draco's number one target towards harper.

"your girl couldn't get the real thing so she opted for the knock off instead, yeah?" draco would sneer, adrenaline pumping from the audience that had surrounded him as he insults harper. he tosses a few kicks at the fallen over boy before crabbe and goyle take over with more aggressive ones. he'd snicker at the sight of the dishevelled harper, adding one more comment before walking away, "don't worry, she'll be running back to me soon enough."

fred!  if you think fred weasley's demeanor would even remotely falter at the news of you hooking up with someone else, you are wrong. even the fact that the special guy was viktor fricking krum wouldn't be able to stop the ginger from continuing to shamelessly flirt with you. fred's mindset was the literal definition of 'never back down, never give up'. he was not going to let you go simply because krum was snogging you on the sides. 

it's lunchtime on a wednesday where majority of hogwarts is present in the great hall, along with the selected students of beauxbatons and durmstrang. you were seated next hermione granger at her designated house table, discussing the slight change in the structures of the upcoming exams. so deep in your conversation with the girl, you had somehow failed to notice the presence of the infamous weasley twins with lee jordan right by their side — obviously. fred is the one to interact with you the most whilst the other two gryffindor boys do their own thing. the older twin's hand is pressed down on the table, leaning his whole body weight against it as he hovers over you. you notice a peculiar shadow cast beside you and turn your right, immediately being greeted with a wickedly grinning weasley. you can't help but notice the veins and slight muscle peeking through his rolled up sleeve from his dominant arm being supported by his weight.  hermione, having read the room, turns around, joining a conversation with neville longbottom and ron weasley. "hey, love." fred spoke up, almost purposively being loud enough for others around to take a quick glance. you tense up at the publicly proclaimed nickname, and though you have heard it leave his mouth several times before, this time there is a bulgarian national quidditch player who might just overhear. it doesn't take more than a second for you to spot viktor, who's looking right to your direction, obviously having heard and seen fred. the muscle in krum's tense jaw twitches as he sharply watches the two of you, while on the other hand, fred's gaze on you hasn't budged. in fact, he lifts his left arm up, fixing the position of your head to face him with the grasp on your jaw. "eyes up here, angel." he instructs before going on a tangent about how professor sprout had seperated him and george during class.

to say viktor krum wasn't pleased with fred's public display of affection towards you would be an understatement. apparently in durmstrang, they do things a little differently — such as rounding up your friends and beating up whoever crosses them, rather than the usual duels at hogwarts. so the sight of a bloodied fred entering your dorm had you leaping to your feet to question and aid him. despite the cuts around his face, fred's cocky smile never left his face. clearly he didn't get krum's message, seeing how he took every opportunity to hold your waist as you wiped the cuts clean off his face. krum truly wasn't getting to him. merlin, he seriously enjoyed pissing the guy off.

or so you thought until you caught onto fred's sudden interest in constantly pranking krum and the durmstrang boys. at first you assumed this could be revenge for ganging up on fred, but then you watched the weasley during one of his quidditch practises. beaters already had such an aggressive role — yet in your handful of years knowing fred, you'd never seen him play this aggressive. it was honestly impressive really, how he managed to keep a cool demeanor until he, well, couldn't.

george!  george never could understand what had gotten into you to start hooking up with adrian fucking pucey. seriously, all george could think about was how closely pucey resembled to the troll his younger brother and friends fought during their second year. despite his thoughts, he never uttered a single word out loud. he was far from supportive of the relationship but he did his best to stay respectful — maybe you were in an 'i can fix him' phase. though george had no idea how anyone could remove the definite troll genes from the slytherin. 

so sure, george kept his mouth shut and a respective distance from the whole relationship ... wrong. oh, come on, there's always a twist with the weasley twins. see, whilst publicly he was an angel .. behind closed doors and alone with you was a whole other wizard. the guy knew if he were to harass pucey with his pranks and stand against him, you would only push the ginger away. he didn't even want to risk such a thing. yet, he still wanted to be close enough to remind you of how much he cared. solitary moments with you begun gentle — he didn't want to cross any line, but still needed to have some sort of idea of where exactly that line was. it wasn't out of the ordinary for just the two of you to hang out — you were best friends after all. however, the more days spent with you, the more flirtatious george grew to be around you.

what starts with light touches on your elbow, soon grows into the two of you laying on the common room couch together, your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around you as he talks sweet nothings with you. it was the same old george before you met pucey — how can you ever walk away from this? almost having read the room, george's gaze flickers onto your lips, the talk from him slowly dying out despite the fact that he hadn't even completed his sentence yet. your brain grows fuzzy at the sight of george slowly leaning in, your own gaze fixated on his lips. it was unfortunate that adrian had to step into your common room during that tender moment, clearly in search of you. knowing him, he was in need of some snogging right now. the darkening look in his eyes as he spots the two of you clearly highlights his distaste towards the whole scene. he had practically marched over to the couch, grabbing george by the collar as he slams him onto the nearest wall. you have to admit, the height difference of the five foot nine pucey compared to george's six foot three makes the whole interaction look a lot more silly. "fuck you doin' with my girl, weasley?" snarls adrian, his irish accent thick with rage. yet george seems less than phased, his arms raised as a smirk grows onto his face. "if she was your girl, mate, she would have pulled away." george calmly adds, glancing at you behind pucey with the most flirtatious eyes known to wizard kind. you can't help but feel stunned at the look, almost melting. "want to be the judge of this, darling?"

[27spoons]

LIGHT UP FLOOR | Natalie Scatorccio

pairing: natalie scatorccio/reader

request: what abt natalie and the reader coming to parties to get loose (in all senses of the word iykwim) - and it kinda connects with "casual" by chappell roan in my head, idk; like a more sentimental, melodramatic version of it

i imagine it being a drunk sex fic, but i think you'd like to throw some weed into the mix. natalie pretending to be nonchalant, unbothered and "unfeeling" by reader's presence on the party which they said they weren't gonna attend, and ending up angstyliciously talking-beefing-fucking <3 (@/postmorteum)

wc: 7500

warnings: y/n usage, ambiguous ex-relationship w/nat, strap-on usage (referred to as cock/dick), alcohol consumption, implied drug use (nat), rough sex, toxic relationships, breathplay, spanking, hair-pulling, semi-public sex, (slight) exhibitionism, overstim, forced orgasm, (accidental) watersports, dacryphilia, subspace, aftercare, emotional damage (as is the usual when it's written by me), these idiots need emotional help, someone get them in touch with a good therapist,

a/n: oh lads. this is a fic. slightly ooc in the name of porn or w/e. anyways. wanted to play around a lil and explore some themes i wouldn't normally touch

ao3

Natalie doesn't know why she thought going out tonight would be a good idea. Truthfully, she never thinks it's a good idea to go out; she just… does it anyway. Sue her, a girl likes to have some fun now and then.

And you… you didn't plan to go out tonight, either. You had fully planned on spending it in your dorm, curled up with your cat (that you aren't technically supposed to have in a college dorm), and watching some B-Movies on your shitty CRT television you stole from your parents when you moved into shared housing.

But, now, here both of you are; opposite ends of some dingy club in Philly. You were dragged out here by friends, something about 'getting out and having some fun,' or whatever. Regardless, they ditched you within ten seconds of arrival. Now you sit at the bar while some generic house music plays, a drink in one hand and your head in the other.

You try to hype yourself up—have a little fun for once—but… shit. You find sitting at the bar and downing drink after drink is much more appetizing when compared to actually trying to hook up with some pretty face in a sweaty crowd.

Natalie isn't in a much better state, but you don't know that—you're too absorbed with the bottom of your glass.

If you were to look up right now, you'd see Natalie standing almost directly opposite you, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest as she surveys the dancefloor. She's wearing what she always wears when she goes clubbing—something equally as alt-rock as it fucking sexy, but she's not dressing up for anyone else.

Well, maybe one someone else. But what are the odds of that one 'someone else' being here? 

Pretty fucking high, apparently, if that's you sitting at the bar and staring into the bottom of your glass. What the fuck? Since when did you go clubbing in Philly? You were always someone who preferred heading into New York to do that shit!

Whatever the reason you're here, she clocks you before you see her. Not that she was looking for you, of course not. She wouldn't be caught dead admitting that. But her eyes catch your face anyway—the purse of your lips as you bring your drink to your mouth, the way your fingers tap idly against the glass, the way you look—

Sad.

She doesn't like that.

…or maybe she does. If you're still sad… maybe you still care. Maybe you still think about her. Maybe you still wish things had gone differently, just like she does, though she'll never fucking say it.

Natalie watches, waiting for you to look up from your drink, but you don't. It shouldn't sting, realistically. It's not like you would know she's here or looking at you. 

It stings anyway.

And, all of a sudden, she feels the need to prove something, though to whom she isn't quite sure.

So, Nat pushes off the wall and walks straight onto the dance floor. There's no difficulty in finding someone willing to dance with her; after all, who wouldn't? Nat knows she's something to look at, and she shows it.

Her outfit says it all: a black, vintage cropped band tee with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the faded stick and pokes that litter her arm. It's slashed at the hem and hangs just enough to reveal a sliver of her stomach when she moves. A ratty plaid miniskirt clings to her hips, frayed at the edges, just barely hiding the ripped fishnets underneath. Combat boots thud against the sticky floor, laced halfway and scuffed from nights just like this. Around her neck, layered silver chains catch the low light, one with a rifle bullet dangling from it. Her eyeliner is smudged to perfection, her eyes smoky, and the textbook example of the 'sloppy punk' makeup look she's coined as her own.

She doesn't have to try. That's the point. Natalie Scatorccio doesn't chase. She lures.

She catches the eye of a girl with her hair streaked a neon green and too much glitter on her cheeks. The girl grins. Natalie smirks back.

And then she's dancing, pressed close, moving like she doesn't know you're here.

She doesn't look at you. Not yet.

You look at her, though.

You aren't quite sure what caused you to look up from your glass at the exact perfect moment, but you do. And there, in all her glory, is Natalie Scatorccio. The same woman that you haven't seen in over two months because of some fucking bullshit—

That isn't relevant right now, regardless. What is relevant right now is the fact that Nat is doing the exact thing she does best: making you fucking pissed off, jealous, and turned on at the same time. A dichotomy you will never properly understand.

Despite yourself, you keep watching, and goddamn, does Natalie move. The deep bass from the music pumping through the speakers radiates up your legs and through your bones, a thrumming sensation pulsing through your mind. Further reminding you of all those nights you've spent in bathrooms of clubs with the titular blonde currently grinding on someone that isn't you.

It's all you can do to glance down into your glass once more, trying to ignore the way she's still dancing on someone who isn't you. She was the one who ended things—you have every right not to be over her yet! You have every right to be upset and jealous that she's currently dancing on someone the way she used to dance on you.

You know what? Fuck it.

You shoot back the remainder of your drink, stand up (swaying slightly), and push your way onto the light-up floor, its colour shifting to a neon green in time with the start of the next song.

Natalie's always had a sixth sense when it came to you. Her eyes flick up to meet yours almost the second you step on the dance floor, her mouth twitching into a smirk—not wide, not gloating, but sharp and knowing, like she’s already won. Her body doesn't stop moving: hips swaying, hands floating in the air, the subtle shift of her weight as her knee brushes lightly against the person she's dancing with. The way she moves is electric, fluid, and maddeningly deliberate—but still so careless, like she hasn't got a thought in the world except the beat of the music.

You take your time cutting through the crowd. It's far from easy—people spill drinks, stumble into your path, and laugh too loud (which is saying something, considering the music is already very loud). Your eyes don't leave hers. You know she sees you. You know she's watching you right back, even when she tilts her head like she's still focused on the person she's dancing with. She's toying with you, and God help you; it's working.

When you reach her, she doesn't stop moving, doesn't pull back from the stranger whose hands rest awkwardly at her waist. She tilts her head to the side, feigning surprise like she didn't know you'd be there.

"Hey," she grins, voice low and just loud enough to carry over the music. "Having fun?"

You scoff, voice sharp with bitterness. "Having fun? Fuck you."

Her grin sharpens, eyes narrowing in amusement. "Yeah, bet you'd like to." She leans slightly into the person behind her, a deliberate press of her shoulder. "As you can see… I'm a little busy right now. Maybe later?"

"No," you hiss out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the other person before you can think better of it. She stumbles slightly but doesn't resist, letting you guide her until her chest is flush against yours. "I'm talking to you."

Natalie doesn't flinch or pull back. Instead, she leans in, arms looping lazily around your neck like it's the most natural thing in the world. Her smirk lingers, teasing but not quite mean. "Well, that's one way to get my attention."

You scoff again, your hands finding her hips without hesitation, gripping tighter than you probably should. "Don't bullshit me. You knew what you were doing. I've had your attention since you started dancing."

Her laugh is low and smokey, her lips brushing just close enough to your ear to make you shiver. "So you've been watching me, then?" She hums, her fingers threading through your hair with an easy, practiced motion. She tugs lightly, just hard enough to remind you exactly how well she knows you. "Guess I should be honoured. Didn't think you'd even glance in my direction again."

Your jaw tightens at her words. There's a flicker of something underneath the surface—not vulnerability, not exactly, but something close. You know her too well to miss it. She's not over it either.

"Yeah, well, trust me," you shoot back, running your fingers under the fabric of her shirt just to feel her bare skin under your palms again. "I didn't want to."

Her grin widens, sharp and unapologetic. "Yet here you are, huh?" She leans in closer, her lips grazing your pulse. Her voice drops, husky and low. "How've you been, y/n?"

Your jaw ticks at the teasing lilt that she speaks your name in, "I've been fucking fantastic, Natalie. How've you been?"

She hums in response, her kisses growing wetter and more deliberate as she moves down your jaw. "Great," she lies easily, her voice brushing against your skin like a whisper. "Thanks for asking, princess."

Neither of you believes the other's words, but truth hardly matters here—it never did.

Her hands tighten in your hair as your bodies move together, the rhythm between you growing hotter, more erratic. You can feel the heat of her skin, the way her breath hitches just slightly as you tug her hips closer. 

Her lips move back up to your ear, voice low and teasing. "Can I be honest?"

You pause, considering that. It's not like she's ever asked before.

"I doubt you know how to be," you shoot back, but your voice wavers as her teeth graze your skin.

She laughs, a warm puff of air against your neck. "I'm tired of pretending we're enjoying this conversation."

Then your lips are on hers—or maybe yours are on hers, it's difficult to tell who initiated it—brutal, uncoordinated, and reckless. Nat's lips part against yours, tasting of booze and weed and every fucking thing you missed and hated all at once. The world around you blurs, boiling down into nothing but the heat of her mouth and the weight of her body against yours.

Your hands continue to run up her sides and deeper under her shirt, thumbs slowly tracing the outlines of her ribs as your tongue presses against hers, battling for a dominance you both know is already yours.

Her nails scrape lightly against your scalp, sending a shiver down your spine that you're almost embarrassed by. Almost.

"Missed me, huh?"

"Don't flatter yourself," you shoot back, though your hands betray you, sliding lower to grip her waist firmly, pulling her even closer, though there's hardly anything left to close.

She laughs, and you feel it more than hear it. Her teeth graze your bottom lip, playful and just shy of rough. "You're full of shit, y'know that?"

"And you're full of yourself," you counter, tilting her head back slightly with a hand on her jaw. 

The kiss deepens, sloppier now, teeth and tongues clashing like neither of you can quite control the urgency. The warmth of her skin under your fingers and the press of her body against yours feels all too familiar, like slipping back into a bad habit you swore you'd kicked.

The song shifts once more, a pulsing rhythm slower and heavier than the one before. It's almost too perfect—like the DJ is playing music specifically to remind you just how much you're still hooked on her—an addict getting a hit of their drug of choice after a long period of abstinence.  Her hips press into yours, moving with the beat, and you're so caught up in her atmosphere that the surrounding dancers just seem to vanish.

"Y'know," she says suddenly, her lips leaving yours to brush against your ear, "mmm… my hips have missed your hips."

You exhale shakily, your voice edged with lingering pain. "Maybe your mouth should’ve admitted it sooner."

She leans her head back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering closed, a delicate sigh slipping past her lips. "Maybe yours should've stayed."

You pretend not to flinch at that. She pretends not to notice.

For a moment, that sexuality that had been burning between the two of you seems to simmer down to something… softer. That lingering pain and tension that had been sitting on your chest for the past few months… it all seems to fade to black, and the only thing you can remember is the warmth you two had shared. 

Your fingers tighten instinctively against her, digging into the soft flesh at the sudden rush of memories and endorphins that flood your veins. A sound—soft but unmistakably approving—spills from her lips at the action.

Her eyes meet yours. There's something else there—something raw and unsaid that you don't dare to name. Regardless, it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that infuriating smirk.

"We were always better at this than talking," she purrs, spinning around in your hold so her back is to your chest. Your hands instinctively move to her hips while hers reach back to tangle in your hair, encouraging your face into the back of her neck. 

You don't hesitate, lips brushing her nape. The skin there is warm, the faint scent of her dollar-store shampoo mingling with the cheap cologne, booze, and smoke that clings to her clothes. It's a heady combination, one that takes you back to nights you thought you'd buried—nights just like this one, with your sweaty bodies moving in sync.

Her fingers curl tighter in your hair as her hips roll back against you, perfectly timed with the bassline reverberating through the floor. Your hands drift lazily up her torso, cupping her breasts gently before moving back down to rest on her lower stomach, holding her against you..

Nat's head tilts back and rests against your shoulder, and her laughter dissolves in a soft, breathy sound that you feel more than hear. Her body practically melts into yours, her movements slowing just enough to draw attention to every subtle grind and shift of her hips. 

You feel her fingers trail down from your hair to your arm, wrapping around your wrist and guiding your hand lower, just beneath the hem of her skirt. The gesture catches you off-guard for a fraction of a second, but you willingly let your hand trail down the flat of her stomach.

"Careful, Nat," you murmur, the pad of your forefinger teasing the waistband of her panties. "We're still in public, hmm?"

She chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating against you. "And? When'd you start caring about that?"

Her words are a dare, and you both know that. Unfortunately for you, you also both know she's right—neither of you has ever given a flying fuck about other eyes in the room. One could even say it makes things better.

You should stop. You should untangle yourself from her and find someone—literally anyone else—to dance with. You should do a million different things in this moment, but then she presses her hips back into you with just enough force to make you both gasp, and any thoughts you had about preserving your sanity go flying out the window.

"You're a fucking danger to society," you mutter, dipping your hand underneath her waistband and teasing lower. "A fucking menace."

"Mmm, and you love it," she quips, her smirk audible as your fingers run through her folds, the wetness already palpable. 

"Not as much as you do, apparently." You shoot back, pulling your hand out of her skirt before you can get thrown out of the (mediocre) nightclub you were in. 

She looks at you over her shoulder as if she can still read your mind. "We gettin' outta here?"

"Yeah?" You’re not even sure why you sound so uncertain—especially since you’re already dragging her toward the exit.

You lead her out into the brisk Philly night, the cool air sharp against your overheated skin. You're not thinking clearly—you're not thinking at all—when you pull her into the narrow alleyway beside the club, pressing her back against the rough brick wall.

"Good to see you never stopped being a romantic," Nat quips breathlessly as her arms come to circle your neck. "Missed the charm."

"Thought you'd appreciate the ambience," you move your lips to her neck, starting at the hollow of her throat before tracing up her jaw and to her mouth. "You always did like it dirty." And, well, it is dirty. You've positioned the two of you between a rotting stack of wooden pallets and a half-full dumpster. 

Nat doesn't seem to mind or care.

And, much to her dismay, she doesn't get the chance to fire a teasing quip back when you slot your lips against hers and kiss her like your life depends on it. You've fucked in far dirtier (and more life-threatening) places than a grungy back street in downtown Philly; plus, your tetanus shots are up to date. You and Nat made sure of that after the… incident that happened last summer in Atlantic City. 

She hitches up her right leg around your hip, using the leverage to tug you even closer to her as her fingers thread through your hair, angling your head so she can deepen the kiss. 

Nat's lips are chapped and cracked against yours, splintering open when you tug her bottom lip between your teeth. The metallic taste of blood pebbles upon your tongue, stirring up a moan that threatens to spill from your throat into her waiting mouth.

When her hips start grinding into yours with growing ferocity, she breaks the kiss with a gasp. "You're packing?" It's phrased as a question, but you know her well enough to understand it's a statement.

Of course she notices. She always does. 

"Yeah," your breath ghosts over her face, eyes boring into yours. "Planned on getting laid tonight. Just happened to be you." 

"Lucky me."

"Lucky's one word for it." Your hands slide down to her waist, pressing her harder against the wall. The rough brick scrapes faintly against her back, the friction mirrored in the scrape of your teeth along her neck.

She hisses in a breath, tilting her head to give you more access. "Fuck, you're insufferable."

"And you love it," you shoot back, echoing her earlier words. Your fingers slide beneath the hem of her skirt, the fabric bunching up as you inch closer to what you both want.

Her fingers tighten in your hair, angling your head back until your eyes meet. They're blown wide, pupils dark and wild—whether from lust or intoxication, you neither know nor care. "What're y'waiting for, then?"

You don't answer, not with words. Instead, you push her skirt up fully, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs to the cold night air. The actions feel familiar—almost second nature—when your fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and tug them down her thighs, the sight of her naked skin making your pulse palpitate. 

Truthfully, it's a sight you'd never thought you'd see again. You're ever-grateful that you were wrong.

"C'mon," you murmur, removing your hands from her body. "Bend over."

Nat smirks, "Why? Can't handle seeing my face, princess?" Her back arches as she bends over the wooden pallets, the curve of her body oh so inviting. "This what you had in mind?" she purrs, looking back at you from over her shoulder.

You step behind her, hands running down her sides to rest on her hips. Despite the teasing front she tries to put up, you see past it. "God, yeah," you murmur, grinding your hips into hers, letting her properly feel the strap you had tucked away. "Missed you more than I fucking hate you."

"Shit," she hisses, pressing her hips back into you. "Yeah? Prove it, then—fuck me like you mean it," she adds a moment later, though her voice wavers just enough to betray the ache beneath her bravado.

You steady her with one hand on her hip as the other hand moves to undo the buckle of your belt. The sound of it coming undone echoes against the concrete and brick. The tension between you two feels thick enough to cut with a knife. With a torturous amount of slowness, you unzip your jeans and reach inside, taking out the silicone toy. 

You spit onto your hand and bring it to the length jutting out from between your thighs, spreading the saliva across its ribbed surface. It’s cold to the touch at first, but warms quickly in your palm—slick and ready, almost like it's as desperate as you are to be inside of her again.

Her head falls forward, breath quickening as you push into her, watching her heat slowly consume every inch. Her knuckles whiten as she grips the edge of the pallet, body trembling at the harsh intrusion without preparation, and still, she takes you like she always has.

"Fuck, don't I get a fucking warm-up?" she seethes, but the words lose any strength they had behind them when her voice melts into a low moan as her expression shifts—eyes heavy, mouth parted, brows just barely furrowed in that way you’ve only ever seen when she’s falling apart for you.

"You don't need one. You never do when you're drunk." One of your hands moves to grip the back of her neck, pushing her face down against the pallets. Nat groans as the rough, dry wood digs into her cheek, but provides no further protest to the action. She's always liked you a little rougher.

It's when you start moving your hips that Nat stops her faux fighting, a pleased sound spilling from her lips. "Fuck, yes," she mumbles out, meeting your thrusts every time you snap your hips forward. Your movements are harsh—driving into her roughly and removing yourself almost entirely before plunging right back in and doing it all over again, switching between speeds as you go.

God, Nat would never admit it to anyone, but she fucking missed this. Missed you fucking into her like you had a point to make. Like it didn't matter who saw. She missed the way your cock stretched her out so perfectly every time—like it was moulded specifically for the shape of her pussy. It was everything she had been craving and looking for in partners since you but had yet to receive.

So, she allows herself to go along for the ride, letting you use her how you see fit. If this were any other encounter, you'd probably feel bad about how punishing and unrelenting your thrusts were. Right now? Right now, you can't find it in you to care. After everything she put you through, maybe this is the only way you know how to touch her anymore.

Your nails dig into the flesh of her hip as you drive into her, the smack of skin against skin echoing in the narrow alleyway. The cool night air bites at your exposed flesh, a stark contrast to the burning heat where your bodies connect. Each thrust draws a quiet, gasping moan from her lips, further muffled by the wooden pallets pressing into her cheek.

"God, Nat," you growl, free hand sliding up her back, nails raking lightly over her spine. "Look at you. Fucking perfect."

She tilts her head back just enough for you to catch the curve of her lips—a smirk, of course. Even like this, she still can't resist being a tease. "Don't stop," she murmurs, voice shaky but still holding that infuriating edge.

"Didn't plan to."

You lean over her, chest brushing against the curve of her back as you press her down even further. The angle shifts, and the new depth drags a sharp cry from her throat. She claws at the edge of the pallets, nails scraping against the splintering wood as her body writhes beneath yours.

You adjust your stance further, one hand moving back to her hip while the other gathers her hair into a makeshift ponytail. The strands are slightly damp from the club's heat and exertion of the moment, sticking to your fingers as you twist your hand into its length. With a sharp tug, you yank her head back, exposing the column of her throat, skin flushed and slick beneath your grip. Her back arches deeper with the tug, a cruel smile stretching across your lips at the sight.

"Fuck," Nat hisses, voice breaking into a gasp that's half surprise, half desperate need. Her eyes squeeze shut as she instinctively pushes back against you, meeting each thrust with a renewed fervour.

You chuckle darkly, tightening your grip on her hair and pulling harder, the motion eliciting a strangled moan from her throat. "You trying to get us caught?" Your free hand slides up from her hip to wrap loosely around her neck, palm flat against her windpipe.

She goes still for a moment, her body taut beneath yours as your fingers press lightly into the sides of her throat. You can feel the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath your fingertips, a tangible reminder of the control you have over her right now.

"Harder," she whispers, the word barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding.

You don't need to be told twice. Your grip on her neck tightens just enough to make her gasp for air, lips parting, breath thinning, eyes glazed. It's intoxicating, the way she submits so willingly, just like she always has.

Nat tries to speak—she really does—but all that results is a weak, strangled sound that you feel vibrate down into your hand from where it's pressed over her throat. 

The sound goes straight to your lower gut, forcing a low groan from your mouth at the way she still lets herself fall into pieces for you. You ease up on her neck just enough for her to catch her breath, not because you're feeling generous, but because you want to hear her again—want to feel the way her voice trembles when she breaks.

"There she is," you murmur, breath hot against her ear. "Still know how to be a good fucking girl when you want to be." 

You feel the shiver rake down her spine at your breath against her ear, and her whole body twitches. Her legs spread further, and her face flushes with the kind of raw, dizzy submission she always tried to pretend she didn't like. 

You give her a moment. Just long enough to catch her breath (although your hips never cease in their relentless assault, so you really don't give her a lot of opportunity to breathe properly), and then—your palm connects with the round of her ass.

She gasps, loud and shocked, but her hips jerk back toward you instead of away.

"There it is," you mutter, hand settling back over the area you'd hit in a strange form of apology. "Knew you'd still come when called."

Natalie makes a sound like a sob dressed up as a moan—muffled by the pallet, cracked in the middle. You don't slow down. If anything, you give her less now. Less mercy. Less rhythm. Less time to think.

Because she never needed gentleness.

Not when it came from you.

Not after what she did.

When your hand rears back and connects with her again, it's hard enough for the sound to echo off the brick, but not hard enough to hurt. Just to remind her she's still yours, even if only like this. 

A pathetic sort of whine slips through her teeth, but there's no protest at your roughness—just her ass pressing back harder into your hips. You know Nat well enough to know she wants the pain—it makes things easier than just dealing with the emotional aspect of it all. She doesn't have to think when another sharp crack echoes against the objects surrounding you, all she has to do is close her eyes and feel you inside of her.

God, it feels good.

Just like it feels good for you to watch the way her skin reddens where you strike it, or the way she grips the wood underneath her so hard you worry she'll limp away with wooden splinters lodged in her calloused fingers. 

You're so deep inside her now, it's a miracle she's still holding herself upright. She'd be a mess on the pavement if not for the pallets underneath her. Every thrust punches another fractured sound from her throat—moans, gasps, half-formed curses, maybe your name—but it's the way she clings to the pallet that tells you just how close she is. You've seen the signs before and learned to memorise them: the trembling in her thighs. The twitch in her back. The frantic, instinctive way her hips keep trying to meet yours. The way she doesn't even realise she's begging. 

You let a sardonic smirk cross your face as you lean down again, lips pressed to her ear. "Gonna come already, Natalie?"

She whimpers—high and broken—and it's the most honest sound you've dragged out of her all night. 

"Of course you are," you sneer gently, snapping your hips harder into hers. "Always did like being used, didn't you?"

Her entire body tenses under you, and she's gone. Her teeth dig into her hand to muffle the sharp, guttural cry that rips itself from her throat. She shudders, her muscles seizing and convulsing as she crashes into her first orgasm with brutal force. 

"Shit," you laugh darkly, never once ceasing your drives into her. "Still so easy, huh? Bet no one else makes you come like this."

Nat swears she can taste copper as her teeth dig into her hand, biting down until the pain flares bright under the skin. She can't find it in herself to dispute your claim, not when she can feel the ridges of your cock dragging against her fluttering walls, nudging that spot inside of her that has her seeing stars.

When she finally manages to speak, you can't make out the garbled words she spits into her trembling fingers, but you don't need to hear them. You already know what they are; some variation of her telling you to go fuck yourself.

With a sudden abruptness, you pull out of her spasming pussy and slap your dick against her sensitive cunt a few times, watching her twitch and wiggle away from the actions. 

"C'mon. Flip over."

Nat makes some weak, pathetic whining sound before realising she still has a voice she can use, and moves her hand from her mouth. "Fuck… fuck off. Give me a minute. I just—"

You don't let her finish. You don't want to hear it unless it's begging. 

With strength surprising even you, you flip her over before she can even breathe properly. One hand continues to stroke the length between your legs slowly, the other running up her torso before your thumb comes to rest under her chin, fingers resting loosely over her hammering pulse.

Her bleached hair fans messily against the pallet, cheeks flushed, lashes sticky with sweat and God-knows-what. Her eyes are glassy—half-lidded, half-lost—and the second they meet yours, you feel something like grief claw at your throat.

You chose to ignore it.

She doesn't speak as her pulse bounds against the tips of your fingers, just lifts her hips in a silent ask. You don't give her what she wants—not yet. Instead, you just look down at her with faint pressure against her windpipe. 

Nat doesn't want to admit it, but she still recognizes that look.

Her hand tentatively moves between her own legs, shaky and uncertain.

"C'mon," you murmur, voice low. "Show me how much you missed me."

She squeezes her eyes shut, ashamed of how fast her body responds. Her fingers slide through her wet, puffy folds, circling her clit. Pleasure shoots up her spine, and her whole body trembles—brows knitting, lips parting into that perfect little 'o' you’ve missed.

"Yeah… just like that. Such a good girl. You miss having my cock ruining you?"

She whimpers. And, much to your surprise, she nods her head—no bratty comment or easy quip, almost like she's finally submitting herself to you fully. 

"Words, Natalie." You lightly squeeze her throat at the command to prove a point. "Say it. Tell me."

"Missed it," she whines reluctantly, eyes still squeezed shut as her fingers start to find a comfortable rhythm. "Missed you inside of me—" 

You smirk down at her, thumb pressing harder into her jaw. "Open your eyes. C'mon, lemme see that pretty colour—ah, there we go. You can be such a good girl when you want to." 

She nods frantically, green eyes blown wild with lust, meeting yours in the claustrophobic darkness that surrounds you. Dark mascara streaks down her cheeks, and it's a damn good look on her.

You watch her like a goddamn animal—eyes glued to the way her fingers circle faster now, how her breath catches every time your name slips from her mouth without thought.

"Touching yourself just to make me proud, huh?" you murmur, hand still wrapped around the toy between your thighs, stroking it like it's a part of you. "Look at you. Such a fucking mess."

Nat nods again, frantic and desperate, the heel of her palm grinding down against her clit as her thighs begin to twitch. 

You press your body back between her legs, guiding the tip against her soaked entrance, splitting her labia and rubbing against her slit. Her hand slips away immediately—instinctively—as if her body knows exactly who it belongs to when it counts.

"Did I tell you to stop touching yourself?" you ask harshly, the hand on her throat moving back to grip her left thigh and pull her towards you. Nat's leg wraps around your hip like it's still second nature to her, and she shakes her head as her hand moves back to where it was.

"Y'didn't…" she says meekly, the overstimulation starting to get to her. "'m sorry…"

The grin that cracks your face at her whimpered apology could only be considered feral. "Mm, apology accepted, pretty girl."

You nudge the head inside her—barely—and pull back, teasing again, and again, until Nat whines and tugs you closer with the leg she has around your hip. 

You click your tongue and slap her thigh. "When did you think I gave you control, Natalie?" It's a rhetorical question, and you both know it. She doesn't opt for a verbal response; instead, she just shakes her head in place of an apology. 

You'll take it. 

For now, anyway.

You keep rubbing the tip against her, collecting her slick and coating the length with a sardonic grin.

That's another look that Nat has seen before. 

You want her to beg.

Any other day, any other time of the week, she'd be more annoying about it. She'd make you earn her compliance, but she's already so far gone for you; the idea of being a brat doesn't even occur to her.

"Please," she whines out, fingers failing to find the rhythm they had previously found before she pulled back. "God, please. Just…" She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, clearly battling with the words she's going to say next, but she says them anyway. "Fuck, I'm yours. Goddammit, I'm yours. Just—please—!" 

Well. 

Who are you to say no to that? She begs just like she used to.

You thrust into her in one slow, claiming stroke, bottoming out and staying there. Letting her feel every inch of your cock inside her sensitive cunt. She instinctively clenches down around you, pulsing like she's trying to draw you in deeper.

God, a part of her wishes you wore a bigger one. She wants to feel you in her goddamn throat—but maybe that's just the liquor talking. 

The hand that had a death grip on her thigh moves to press over her lower gut, and fuck, Nat feels full. She knows she was just wishing you wore a bigger strap, but she feels full, and it feels good. It's a sensation she hasn't felt before, but it isn't necessarily a bad one. Just a lot of pressure that's adding to the rampant pleasure. 

You don't give her a warning when you pull back until just the tip remains, then start to pound into her with reckless abandon. 

She feels dizzy. Drunk on you. Drunker than the last shot she took. No substance ever hit like this. No, there isn't a single pill out there that could ever come close to touching this rush. 

Your hand presses harder into her lower belly, fingers splayed like you're trying to cover as much skin as possible. Nat whimpers—it's all she can manage—and her legs twitch again as another wave of pleasure hits her.

The pressure's unbearable now.

Not just the pressure from your cock, but from the ache building behind her pubic bone. The kind of full that doesn't feel like just sex anymore. It's deeper than that. Heavier.

Worse.

She doesn't want to admit it, but she knows what she is. And like most things in her life, she’d rather not face it head-on. So, she doesn't think about the fact she's had shot after shot at the bar and never went to the bathroom. Doesn't think about the fact she pre-gamed before coming out. Doesn't think about the fact that she's had even more to drink because of the goddamn cottonmouth that comes with railing rackets off a porcelain basin.

Nat squeezes her eyes shut rather than telling you to stop or pushing you back, because she doesn't want that. She tries to breathe through it. She can't come like this.

And you don't stop. Your thrusts are brutal, steady, and almost cruel in their rhythm. And your hand—your fucking hand—is still pressing down over her gut like you know. Like it isn't just about the external stimulation anymore.

"You feel full, baby?" you murmur, voice low and sweet and horrible. "Feels like you're about to break for me."

"Don't—" she chokes out, voice barely coherent, but it's too late.

Her body jerks. Her thighs lock around your waist, like she's trying to hold it all in. Like she could hold it all in. Her stomach twists. Her muscles fail.

And then it happens.

The warm rush overtakes her in an instant—wet and unrelenting, gushing against your thighs and the inside of hers. A sob bubbles from her chest, and she can no longer bear to look at you, thrashing her head to the side as she tries—and fails—not to come again.

No, it would be impossible not to. She was already so close, and with the urine being pushed from her bladder, your hand is pressing directly over where your cock is hammering into her. 

You feel the warmth spread across your thighs and seep into the fabric of your pants, and for a second, all you can do is laugh. "Oh, Nat… really?" But your voice isn't mocking. It's indulgent. Like you knew it was coming. Like you wanted it to.

Nat's eye makeup runs down her face in rivers now as pathetic sounds rip from her throat, but you don't stop. No, not once. You don't even slow down as you push her through the waves of her second orgasm. You don't stop when her hand falls from her clit to grip the edge of the pallets.

You don't stop.

"You can cry about it later," you hiss, bringing your hand back to her throat and applying just enough pressure on her windpipe to help her further slip into that fuzziness that's been floating around her head since the first time she came.

"Fuck, such a good little piss-soaked bitch for me, aren't you?" Your thumb presses under her jaw, turning her back to face you again, your pace never ceasing. "All you did was just make it easier for me to fuck you, you realise that?" You laugh sardonically, applying pressure to her carotid now. "All you did was give me more lube. Not that we didn't have enough already, but…"

"Please—" Nat begs, but she doesn't know exactly what for. "Please, please, God, please—!"

"Oh, gonna give me another one, baby? Even after all that?" Your voice is a low, brutal coo, and Natalie hates that she nods immediately, another broken sob escaping her mouth in the form of a "please," which seems to be the only word she can bring herself to say right now. 

She doesn't want to come again, but she's going to. Even if it feels like every thrust of your hips is the equivalent of a wildfire running through her veins. She can't help it—it's like you still remember exactly what buttons to push to force her over the edge. 

Her thighs are shaking. She doesn't even bother keeping them around your waist anymore. Before they can fall limp, your hands are there—gripping her, pulling her back into each thrust like there was even a sliver of a chance she would try to pull away right now.

Sobs catch in her throat, cut short every time your hips slam back into her. She feels it blooming in her stomach again—too soon, too much, too hot—her skin prickles, flushed and slick and far too sensitive. Every inch of her body feels lit up, wired and overworked, raw nerves singing with every movement.

Your cock slams into her, again and again and again, and the sound of it—the obscene squelching sounds that seem endless—bounce off the alley walls like your own private symphony.

Nat's breath hitches, a stuttering inhale that never quite becomes an exhale, and she whines, long and high and fucking mortifying. Her body arches up into you involuntarily, back bowed and muscles tensed like she's ready to snap at any second.

"Yeah, that's it," you murmur, the sound barely audible over the repetitive collisions of your bodies. "Let me have it."

And then she snaps.

Her body convulses violently beneath yours, a ragged cry tearing itself from her lungs as her orgasm rips through her like a wave of static. She's gushing around you, all slick and salt and noise, a tremor rattling straight up her spine as every part of her feels like it's shattering into a million little pieces.

Her grip on the pallets falls slack. Her mouth opens in a silent scream. Her cunt clamps down so hard you can feel it, and have to bite back a moan of your own. She comes like a house being torn apart by a tornado, and it's only then that you finally—finally—cease your relentless assault on her well-used and overly sensitive pussy.

It feels like eons between her final climax and when you finally pull out of her, but Nat doesn't mind the wait. Not when she's floating in this hazy space she's only been in a handful of times before—which, ironically, have all been with you, but that's a problem for sober Nat.

And you, well, you don't know what you're gonna do when you're sober. But that can be dealt with when you are sober.

For now, you drunkenly tuck yourself back into your pants—grateful that today was the day you chose to wear a dark colour, God forbid you be seen walking around with a giant piss stain on the front of them—and pull a tissue from your pocket, attempting to clean her up.

You're careful. Just like you used to be. You take your time cleaning her up, mindful of her oversensitivity and her state. You may be a drunk asshole right now, but you aren't a complete asshole. 

Her breathing is still shaky. Her mascara's bled halfway down her cheeks. She doesn't flinch when your fingers brush between her legs again. She just exhales, seemingly… grateful.

You don't say anything as you wipe her down. You don't have to. You're safe. You always have been.

By the time you get her clothes back in place and help her up, Natalie's just coming out of that fog that has clouded her mind. 

You murmur something about a payphone. She nods without question. She clings to you just like she used to after you'd pushed her into subspace. 

While you wait for the cab on the sidewalk, she leans her head on your shoulder. You hold her hand.

You already know she'll be gone by the morning.

a/n: do u guys know how crazy it is that i went from writing a fic where reader literally kms'd to writing this. wild. anyways. stream melodrama

[wings-of-ink]

Hi!! I know you said you'll refrain from answering long asks, and this ask is pretty long but I sent it anyways cause I think the answer would be pretty short! If not, please don't feel pressured to respond! If u don't respond I'll take that the answer is longer than I thought it would be, so I've saved it on my notes app and will gladly send it again when u end chapter 3 or whenever u allow it! :)

Now to the ask,

Will it be possible to romance a RO without flirting w/ them? Is it possible to flirt w/ everyone (but this specific RO) or just like one RO and even so end up in a relationship w/ a different RO? I'm thinking of playing a mc that is really attracted physically to people like Zhan but he's been in love w/ Oswin since forever. And he thinks flirting is for when you're playing w/ someone (even tho he's probably seen his parents flirting constantly lol), but since he loves Oswin he doesn't need to play, he can just be genuine. But he still thinks he has no chance w/ Oswin, so he flirts with Zhan (without moving on 😭). But I also feel kinda sad about Zhan I don't wanna hurt their feelings😭 if we flirt w/ them and maybe hook up are they gonna be sad if we get w/ someone else?? 😞 Cause like my mc will start to genuinely care about them but won't be in love pls let's just be besties who used to have benefits🥺 Also if this whole situation is possible, how would Oswin react to it?? Poor boy must be😧🤨😳

Sorry for the long ask, the demo was gigantic and amazing!! Ty so much for your hard work <3

Hello Anon-dear! If your ask is a bit long to read-that's fine, if it's long to answer, that's where I'll need to pause for the time being. That's where I get hung up and distracted, lol. I'm still taking those too, it's still Friday somewhere, lol.

To answer your question, it will absolutely be possible to romance someone without flirting. The "flirt" options are passively tracked just so I can program certain flirty responses that will be directed back to the MC by those ROs (it's a way for me to track if it's okay with reader/MC so I'm not directing like super suggestive come-ons towards them that aren't okay).

I absolutely love how you're going to play your MC. That's part of the reason I wanted to do things this way. The way I play my MCs sometimes makes flirting almost out of character for them, but of course I'd want the romance, lol.

Your MC will be free to flirt and do some other things with Zahn (they are all kinds of okay with that, lol) and then lock-in with Oswin later - no flirting required.

Zahn will be totally fine if your MC doesn't end up with them. They and Duri are both good with physical-only and flirty relationships. Your MC will make selections as they go about how they feel about each potential suitor, and the hook-up ROs will have a selection that you can choose if this is just for fun or if it's got some feelings attached (whether your MC is fully aware or not). [Lucky for your MC, I added a light spicey scene for Zahn in chapter 3 if they so choose] :D

If Oswin is aware of relations between the MC and others, he's going to feel a little strange about it and be concerned (for MC's well-being because he cannot help himself, lol). Mainly, things like that aren't his bag, but he also knows that for many people physical and romantic relationships can be separate. He's more concerned with having his lover's heart above all else, so ultimately he will be okay with it. For MCs that have been involved with the hook-ups, particularly the ROs, Oswin may have a harder time digesting that the MC is choosing him to remain with. (He may feel that the connection between the MC and Zahn/Duri was deeper and never considered that the MC would ever go for him). It will be an interesting conversation for sure (one that the programming for is already frightening me, lol).

Thank you so much for the Ask and kind words! I really appreciate you digging into my story and having a good time with it! ^_^

[gregoftom]

I am finally getting round to reading the scripts and I am soooo !!!!! about how many more Greg scenes there were meant to be early in s1 and how he was really intended to be so prominent in the story (which makes sense that he’s somewhat jesse’s self insert) like at the hostel or calling his mum or buying shoes etc and in the original pilot script his character intro was after Logan and BEFORE Kendall like huuuuuhhh

there’s not much point to this message other than just to say I feel so validated re greg as my fave character bc I feel like more recently ppl have been dismissing him as unecessary/irrelevant or just a side note / foil to tomshiv but reading the scripts rlly makes u see how important his character is early in the show as the sympathetic audience proxy that is often shown in direct comparison to the Roy sibs (esp in the first ep that Logan openly says he likes Greg for the exact reason he doesn’t like his kids ie he’s actually fighting his way in from the ground up) like he’s literally the hook to get viewers into the show he’s a rlly important character ahhhh

ahhhhh anon!! yeah for real it sucks so much that SO much was cut for greg bc not only is it important for him as a character, but for others too like ewan, logan as you’ve mentioned here, tom. imo regardless of how much was cut from the show re: the scripts, i still feel like greg is an important and interesting character like, there’s a reason he became a fan favourite. the lack of content for him only really became an issue in s4, but i think personally that’s a general issue for many characters or hell, any character apart from the siblings. greg got the worst of it along with gerri imo and we got more focus on fucking. hugo? than gerri? smh.

anyway, greg is a main character also, like, he’s literally on posters w the sibs lmfao, not only season 4 but earlier too. the four siblings, logan, tom and greg. they’re the main characters. tom also got assblasted with the less focus gun, although not as much as others. having said all this i’m sad that you feel you have to be validated for greg to be your favourite like, you don’t need to have a reason my friend! even IF greg was irrelevant [which he isn’t he’s integral to the plot in several ways, even to the precious siblings [affectionate, i like the sibs too i just get tired of the passes they get over everyone else]] you don’t. need. to justify your enjoyment of him lmao??? no one does. if a character resonates with you, they just do. many a time is there a side or small character part with no content or little focus that someone might like, and that’s absolutely fine, if not frustrating haha. but for some reason mfs feel the need to point out constantly how greg is pointless and it’s Weirdo behaviour to like him and why would you and the show would be the same without him [i’ve seen this take which. lmfao] so it’s like. it makes greglovers feel the need to have to reason why he’s their fave.

i mean i could give you tonnes of reasons as to why he is important as a character but my main reason for liking him is i just fucking do. the end. checkmate atheists.

[shawnxstyles]

please, call me peter

DATE: JANUARY 6, 2023

summary: you haven’t been able to come with anyone besides yourself, making you think something’s wrong with you. once you go to the gynecologist, dr. parker shows you that you’re just fine.

request: yes yes

words: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering], dub-con, small praise kink, dirty talking), and a cute ending.

note: shooting out requests like webs. sorry that was lame. if this makes you uncomfortable, do not read.

gynecologist!peter x female!reader

—

Your eyes scan the white room while you sit impatiently. Your heart lightly thuds in your chest and your fingers drum rapidly along your clothed thigh. The nurse had asked if you wanted to change into a hospital gown, which you politely denied. She gave you an indifferent expression before walking out, leaving you here.

You were at the gynecologist for one concerning reason; every time you had sex, you couldn’t come. Your previous relationship ended because you were unable to reach that euphoric high, which you believed was a ridiculous reason to leave someone. You weren’t as sad as you thought you’d be because you were too concerned with your own well-being to dwell on some bloke.

Before heading to the doctor, you had a quick hook-up, assuming that you and your ex just weren’t sexually compatible. But then you were proved wrong when you didn’t come. Again. You weren’t really the hook-up type, in fear of catching some unwanted disease or infection. Finally, you took matters into your own hands, literally, and masturbated with your fingers until you orgasmed all over your bed sheets.

See? It wasn’t impossible.

Then why couldn’t you come with other people? It had to be your fault. It had to be.

So, again, you were left here in the small hospital room sitting between empty stirrups with your ankles tightly crossed. The widening of the wooden door alerted you, your eyes shooting towards the man entering the room.

A guy? Your gynecologist was a guy?

You knew you were a decently healthy person because you were always on track with your appointments, even small check-ups. Because of your good wellness, you had never needed to go to the gyno. Until now, which seemed a bit nerve-racking all of a sudden.

The second the doctor turned around, you knew exactly why.

Warm, brown eyes peer at you with tenderness. Chestnut curls rest upon his head a little messily, but in the cutest way. He wore a professional lab coat over his casual clothing. His ribbed shirt and blue jeans seemed to match him perfectly. His cheeks appear a tinge pink when he smiles, welcoming and greeting you.

Oh shit.

“I’m Dr. Parker, and you are?” Dr. Parker asks as he plops onto his spinny chair. His eyes stare deeply into yours, causing your heart to race more than you’d like to admit. His voice was as attractive as his face, and you tried to convince yourself that he had to have at least one bad quality that you just haven’t seen yet, so you didn’t soak your panties.

“Y/N,” You blink to wash away the feeling of your nerves as your palms get clammy. “but you probably knew that already.”

“That is true, but I like for my patients to introduce themselves to me directly,” He states simply and you nod in response. Your sweaty hands interlocked over your thighs to ease yourself.

“So, what brings you in here today, Y/N?” Dr. Parker questions with a lick of his lips. He can’t help himself when his eyes drift nonchalantly, but quickly down your body. You were beautiful, which made it hard to concentrate on anything else, especially when you started talking. Your voice was silky, and he wanted to ask you more questions just so he could hear it more.

“I…” You were a bit embarrassed to share your reasoning. Was it common? Will he laugh at you? No, of course not, he’s a doctor! You battled with yourself in your head before spitting it out. “I can’t come during sex.”

Your jaw clenched as your hand practically hit your forehead in embarrassment. You couldn’t look at him because he was probably holding back a laugh. But you also couldn’t look at him because he was so handsome you might melt.

True be told, Peter already knew why you were here. He read the small report the nurse got before he entered. It was part of protocol and he wanted to hear you describe it yourself.

“That’s okay, darling. Nothing to be ashamed of,” He reassures gently as you remove your hand from your face. He smiles sincerely and you smile bashfully back. The nickname erupts butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t disregard the small wetness you feel trickle in your underwear.

When he asks, you go on to explain your situation in detail, even including the part about your ex-boyfriend dumping you. When Peter hears this, his jaw subtly clenches as irritation spreads through him.

Who breaks up with someone for that? He wanted to ask, but knew that was probably inappropriate. He does need to question you professionally though to ensure there’s nothing wrong. However, he thinks he already knows the answer.

“I’m going to ask you some questions that get pretty personal,” Parker faces his notes with you in the corner of his eye. You nod as your nervousness never fades and your heart beat remains quite fast.

Most of his questions were simple and straightforward, so you weren’t too ashamed to answer.

“Do you have any pain?”

“No.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Two years,” You eyes strayed away from him, thumbs twiddling in your lap like an anxious child. He wonders how you got birth control without going to the gynecologist in the past, seeming as though you’ve had no history.

However, some questions made the heat rise to your cheeks. Your arousal worsened the more Dr. Parker spoke, his voice warm and soothing like honey.

“To clarify, you have orgasmed before, correct?” Peter was able to focus when his eyes were glued to his papers, but one glance at your adorable shyness and his cock was semi-hard in his boxers.

“Yes, I-I did it myself,” You hissed at yourself for stuttering. He made you so starstruck it was hard to form words. You didn’t meet many people like that in your life— now that you think of it, none at all. He surveys you for a moment you think was a little too long, and you tighten your ankles together at his burning gaze.

“Um,” He grunts, covering it up with a cough as his cheeks turn pink a tad more. Your lip subtly curls into a smile at his cuteness. Peter was nervous for the first time in a while, fingers shaking as he scribbled notes about you. He felt as silly as a child who had a crush on a classmate. “you seem very well.”

“So nothing’s wrong?” Your eyebrows crinkle in confusion, a lost expression cascading over your face when you feel like you’ve hit a dead end. You gaze at the floor, trying to understand.

“Not directly,” He says to reassure you. Your eyes meet his with a head tilt. Now, you were really confused.

“What do I do then?”

“Don’t have sex with idiots,” He grumbles, honestly hoping you didn’t hear it. But of course you did. Your heart rate quickens wildly in your chest at his blunt statement. “but to make sure, I’m going to check you, okay?”

Your eyes widen for a moment, not thinking you would have to be checked. Your thoughts immediately shoot to your soaked panties and how he’ll see your very visual arousal. Hopefully, he assumes it’s from nerves.

“Would you like to change into something more comfortable and accessible?” He asks, looking at your shirt with jean shorts. He checks most of his patients, so usually they would have been in a gown already. But at this hospital, the patient didn’t have to change, even though it was highly recommended. However, when they rarely denied the new wardrobe, the doctor had to undress the patient themselves. So far in Peter’s career, he’s only had to do that with incidents that were an emergency.

“No, thank you,” You answered with no explanation. Secretly, you hated the material of the gown and you swore it gave you rashes. Maybe you were allergic?

Dr. Parker nods once and turns to his little side table beside you. He slips on his blue gloves and tells you exactly what he’s going to do, so you’re not unprepared.

“And since you’re not in a gown, the protocol is that I must undress you myself,” Peter feels the burning red flame up his cheeks at his statement. Your eyes widen again at the image of the sensual action, but nod in understanding.

Who made that rule? You wanted to ask, but it seemed disrespectful. You honestly couldn’t tell if you loved or hated the person that invented that idea. Picturing Dr. Parker strip you only made a pool in your panties.

Peter’s gloved fingers unbutton and zip down your jean shorts with your permission. It was slow and steady, unlike your heart that was bouncing off the walls of your ribs. You know he could see your heavy breathing as your stomach rose up and down too quickly under the thin material of your shirt.

Your shorts were removed and then he was on to your underwear.

Peter’s cock pulsed in his jeans at the wet patch on your panties, his red blush never fading. He wanted to press the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit. He would rub you over the flimsy fabric and then make you moan for him as he fucked you roughly with his fingers. He could assume that you were tight and tense because of your struggle to orgasm with another person, but the thought only made his cock twitch needily as he imagined you squeezing around him.

“Are you okay so far? And can I remove these?” He asks for consent and patiently waits. You nod, but he’s not having that. “Words, Y/N. I need you to say it.”

His demand caused you to clench around nothing as you stutter out a trembling yes, so he can proceed. Peter delicately removes your panties, sliding them down your supple legs and placing them with your shorts. You didn’t open your legs, but you knew he’d already seen the wetness leaking out of you.

“Okay, um,” His professionalism was fading from him. He wanted to devour you because you probably tasted amazing. The smell of your arousal filled his nostrils, making it hard to focus on anything. “Put your legs on these stirrups. I’ll help you.”

He guides your legs into the holders, strongly resisting the urge to gawk at your vulnerable area. Once you were settled, he looked down and nearly came right there. Arousal drowned your folds as your puffy clit poked out behind it all. He noticed the fluttering of your folds as the cold air hit your wetness. He wouldn’t need to use any lube on you for sure. Peter was losing his cool and was about to lose everything if he did not pull himself together.

“I’m about to start. Are you okay?” He could sense your nervousness from a mile away. He wanted to make sure you were okay, even if you’ve had sex multiple times before.

“Yes, doctor,” You reassure and his jaw subtly locks at his label leaving from your mouth. He avoids picturing his falling from your pretty lips, so he could focus on the task at hand. You didn’t notice, too caught up in your own thoughts of his fingers entering you. You wanted him to pound them into you mercilessly because you know he’d know all the right spots and special places to hit. You can imagine he’s soft and caring, and always gives immense pleasure to the woman.

You almost gasp aloud when you come to a realization; he probably has a girlfriend. Or a wife. A wife and kids. You don’t remember seeing a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything. Oh, God, you were daydreaming sexual thoughts about your gynecologist who would probably freak out if he could hear them.

“If it makes you more comfortable, my name is Peter. Sometimes that small detail helps the patients relax more,” He noticed your sudden panicked state and high tension in your legs, wanting to calm you down, so it doesn’t hurt. It was perfectly fine to be nervous, but it wasn’t fine for him to be this nervous. He’s a professional doctor, yet he’s thinking about ruining it all just to please you at this moment.

You feel the latex gloves graze your folds, making your heart jump up into your throat. Peter’s middle finger practically teases your entrance, and you hold back pathetic whimpers. Once he slips his middle finger inside, you release a shuddery moan. His finger stills, deep inside of you while he gives you a second to adjust.

“Relax for me,” You try not to clench around him, but you’re a lost cause when he begins to wiggle it around the tight space. Peter is struggling. His cock is about to burst at the seams while his middle finger sinks far inside you. Your clenching walls and hushed noises nearly make him moan. He sees you resisting the urge to moan and it’s killing him because he wants to hear you.

“You can moan,” Peter says, voice low and sultry. “It’s welcomed.” He curls his finger and slowly pushes in and out. You don’t hold back your moan this time as lust begins to fill your vision. It feels too good, even though you know it’s wrong. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter at his skilled finger and his concentrated expression.

Peter is positive you’re enjoying this. He can’t resist you anymore when he has you spread open for him. Plus, he found nothing peculiar inside, you seemed healthy. He could stop now if he’d like, but the contraction of your pussy walls around his finger and the sweet whimpers you’re eliciting spur him to continue.

“How does this feel, Y/N?” Peter’s voice was gravelly and lustful; you were sure to catch on by now. His question was borderline professional, yet inappropriate. At this point, Peter couldn’t care less because your face said it all.

“Good, really good,” You admitted with fluttering eyes as your hands gripped the sides of your shirt. Your name out of his mouth made you melt into his touch as you instinctively grinded your hips into his hand.

“What about this?” His ring finger slides in effortlessly, and they both curl inside you. You gasp, eliciting another shaky moan. His digits were thick and just the right length to satisfy you without even needing his cock, even though you wanted it. “God, you’re so tight. Imagine what you’d feel like around my cock.” He grumbles.

You gasp at his sudden profound language, but the dirtiness only made you more aroused. Your brain imagined how his cock would look buried so deep inside of you that you’d feel him in your stomach. You imagine this pre-cum leaking from his tip as he pulls out of you just to slam back in. Your core tensed at the thought.

“I didn’t hear you, Y/N,” He grunts gravelly, slowing his movements. He slips his fingers out, removing the glove swiftly. You whine at the emptiness, answering him. He was so sweet, yet dirty, and you loved it.

“So good! It feels so good, please don’t stop,” You plead and he smirks in satisfaction as he continues. His thumb rolls over your puffy clit, making your hips press into his hand as he slips back in. Your thighs contracted as they begged to close, but the locked stirrups blocked you from doing so.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” His tone was smooth and clear, almost contradicting his sinful actions. His pace becomes brutal, ramming in and out of you with no mercy. The rough texture of his bare hand sends a shiver up your spine as your orgasm nears.

“You! You, Peter,” Your chest heaves as choked moans leave your lips. His digits rub your throbbing nerves as his fingers glide against your walls addictingly good. Your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your trembling thighs. His lips raise in another smirk as his cheeks flush that familiar pink. “I’m close, Peter,” You whimper, causing him to hiss at the harsh pulsing of his shaft when his name falls delicately from your lips just how he imagined.

“I know, honey. Can feel you clenching around me,” He groans when you release another noise of pleasure. His eyes wander down to your aching cunt as his fingers become drenched in your juices. You’re squeezing him torturously, on the edge of your break.

“Are you gonna come? Gonna come for me?”

Without another moment, your orgasm ripples through your body with a blissful wail. Clenched muscles and screwed eyes don’t even express the full ecstasy you feel. White liquid saturates Peter’s bare fingers before he licks them clean. It wasn’t the most sanitary, but he didn’t give one fuck.

Your face screams fucked out; perspired skin, droopy eyes, and a weary smile. In his ideal situation, he would have devoured you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But that was for another time. If there ever was another time, which he hoped there would be.

Just maybe not in a hospital.

“Well, Y/N, it seems like you are very healthy,” Peter grins, taking the tissues to clean you thoroughly. You can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks at his joking comment.

“Thanks, doctor,” Your voice came out a bit squeaky while your heart continued to stammer in your chest.

“After that, I think you should call me Peter,” He chuckles, sliding away in his stool to discard the tissues. Heat burns your skin from his adorable laugh.

“Peter it is then,” He helps you down the stirrups and you begin to get dressed with a goofy smile curling on your face. Peter doesn’t fail to notice this as his thoughts begin to wander. He knows he just met you, but he wants to see where this goes. He is confident that you’re interested in him (at least enough for him to finger you), so maybe asking you out isn’t the crazy idea he’s ever had.

“Y/N?” Suddenly, he didn’t feel so confident.

“Yeah?” Your response was breathless.

“Would you, um,” Peter hesitated to find the words. He really was like a little kid talking to his crush for the first time. “like to go out sometime? Maybe?”

You admire his bashfulness. He anxiously rolls up his coat sleeves while his face displaces a rosy blush. His brown eyes twinkled with hope as he waited for a reply.

“I would like that, doctor,” You smile genuinely and sweetly, your joyful energy calming his pent-up nerves. “I mean Peter.” You giggle when he blushes.

“Okay, okay, this is great. Here’s my number,” Peter scribbles messily on a small sheet of note paper, handing it to you. It was adorable how nervous he was for being a well-respected doctor who waltzed in with a sweet kind of confidence. You were giddy as well, but you were way better at hiding it clearly. You snatch the sheet with your fingers, tucking it away in your palm.

“Do you do this with all your patients, Dr. Parker?” You tease with a quirked eyebrow and a pointed finger at his chest. Peter huffs out a chuckle while clicking his tongue.

“Only the most beautiful ones,” He gently lifts your finger, kissing it gently before striding out of the room. Peter doesn’t forget to leave an arrogant wink as the heavy, wooden door closes abruptly.

Maybe being a doctor does make him arrogant. Sometimes.

You stand frozen, starstruck. Your breathing was back to heaving again because he left you breathless. And speechless. You jokingly wondered for a minute if you would die from a heart attack, due to the rapid thumping of a stupid organ against your ribs. Curious, you open your palm and unfold the slip of paper he wrote hastingly. Glancing past the number, you notice the small words underneath.

Please, call me Peter.

—

yesss tell me what you think :)

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Confession

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Confession  Word Count: 3863 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: mentions of murder, crime scene, guns, near-death experience, slow-burn romance, and some MAJOR FLUFF!  Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: your love confession to one another.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

He didn't hear your heart-stopping compliment again until it was almost too late.

After the Staunton case, you and Spencer had been... odd. Well, mainly Spencer, as he spoke as little as possible to you during cases, and always offered to go with anyone else but you on certain tasks. He even stopped coming over to yours for movie night each Saturday, claiming each time to be busy or unwell. It was Spencer's only way of ensuring nothing like that night ever happened again.

He convinced himself the moment was fleeting, just a mixture of chemicals in his brain combined with the adrenaline of being with a beautiful women he very much admired that made him read the signs wrong. You were friends, that was all you were, and all he would ever allow you to be.

This went on for three months.

And you were miserable.

Emily, JJ and Penelope recognised the change in your demeanour at work first, and when they found out the reason behind it, they slapped Spencer upside the head on their way out of the office one Friday afternoon and took you with them, promising a wonderful night out on the town.

That night, to Spencer's eventual annoyance, you'd met someone. A charming young firefighter named Riley who lived in Washington DC and was just in town to see family.

That night, you hooked up. And the next morning, he asked you on a date. That date led to another, then more. You were on your way to another one tonight when you got a phone call from JJ saying they found the latest unsub's house and were planning a raid on it.

Spencer knew you were on a date when he also got the phone call to come along. Despite his distance (by his own choice, he always had to remind himself), he kept tabs on you, checked in on you via others. And while the girls of the team were awfully mad at him, they always answered him when he asked how you were doing.

'You know, for a genius, you really are quite stupid,' JJ told him when he asked about you.

He quirked his eyebrow, genuinely confused. 'I'm sorry?'

'She's heartbroken,' Penelope added. 'Her best friend just gives her the silent treatment out of nowhere after what sounded like a magical night at the theatre. Who wouldn't be upset by that, Reid?'

'I just,' he paused, rallying his thoughts into words that couldn't quite describe how he felt. 'It's complicated.'

'Love shouldn't be complicated, Reid,' Emily interjected, a soft but sad smile gracing her painted lips.

Spencer swallowed thickly at that. 'W-What do you mean?'

Derek finished making his coffee and took a sip of it before answering. 'We all see it, Reid. You don't have to deny anymore how you feel.'

'I'm not denying anything, Morgan.'

'Maybe not to us,' Derek continued. 'But you are definitely denying it to yourself. All I can say is don't wait until it's too late. She's already slipping away.'

That's when Spencer found out about your dates with Riley, and an ugly, selfish, hurt part of him wanted to scream with anger. Mainly at himself, but the damage was done and he had to get over you.

But when you showed up to the unsub's home, your FBI bullet-proof vest on and mascara slightly smeared under your eyes, he was beyond confused. And concerned.

'You're here,' he stated matter-of-factly.

'You sound surprised,' you answered stiffly, loading your gun without even glancing at him.

'To be honest, yeah. JJ and the rest all said you were out tonight. I figured you-'

'What? That I would ignore the call because I had something personal planned?' You finally looked up at him, and man did your cold stare pierce him like an arrow. 'This is my job, Spence. I knew, same as you and everyone else, that I would have to make some sacrifices to do it. So please, don't think so little of me just because I attempted to have a life outside of it.'

He grew more concerned at your choice of words. 'Attempted?' he asked, but then he looked closely at your smeared mascara, at the redness circling your eyes. Like you'd been crying-

'Don't worry about it,' you muttered, brushing past him to meet up with the team. 'You haven't for about four months now.'

Spencer tried to ignore the sting your words brought with them as he followed you to the rest of the team, forcing himself to put the case in front of you. But he'd done that for the past four months as you had so brightly pointed out, and look where it had landed him.

'Now remember,' Hotch started, bringing the team and some other officers in to brief, 'this unsub may use this place as his base to build his bombs, but don't discredit the idea that he wouldn't blow it up to save himself. Tread carefully but be vigilant, he is in the house somewhere. Now move.'

Spencer followed you into the house through the front door, gun and flashlight at the ready. All that could be heard were the soft but swift patter of footsteps as the FBI and local police ran in. The lights were on, but no unsub.

You were silently directed by Hotch to investigate the back end of the house, to which Spencer and Derek followed. You focussed on maintaining your breathing as you tried not to think about your date, Spencer, your heart thrashing in your ribcage. Only the unsub mattered.

The three of you broke into the last room of the house, the laundry. Upon entry, you spotted him, the unsub, running out the back door into the backyard.

'Hey!' you called out, immediately breaking into a sprint after him. You broke out of the laundry onto a cemented path towards a clothes line, chasing after him towards the fence line. But as you stepped off the path and onto the grass, something gave way beneath your feet, followed by a resounding click that had your freezing with fear.

'(L/n), keep going!' Derek shouted from somewhere behind you.

'Hold up!' you cried, throwing an arm back behind you. 'I think the yard is full of bombs.'

'Well, let's go around the front and get him in the back streets, come on!'

'I can't,' you replied back, slightly breathless from running, but also from the fear constricting now your airways.

'Why?' You didn't have to see him to know it was Spencer, concern dripping from just one word.

'Because I'm standing on one.'

Spencer knew it was physically impossible, but he was sure his stomach just dropped out of him and onto the bomb-littered grass around them. This was bad. Like very very bad.

'Shit,' Derek breathed out before bringing his wrist up to his mouth. 'Hotch, the unsub got away over the back fence, send some men to intercept him two blocks north from here.'

'Got it,' Hotch answered efficiently.

'And send the bomb squad out here. Yard is like a mine field and (L/n) is standing on one.'

After that, it didn't take long for the rest of the team to run outside, making extra careful to stand only on the pavements as they got as close to you as they could. Spencer stood the closest, standing directly in front of you as the bomb squad swept the yard for the rest of them.

'I've got some good news and some bad news,' one member of the bomb squad said as she came up to the team. 'Good news is it's the only bomb in the yard.'

'And I just managed to find it. Super,' you muttered, your tone shaky although the intention was to lighten the mood.

'Bad news is it's a pressure-triggered bomb, meaning that if you move even a fraction it'll go off. Also, by stepping on it, you've set of a timer until it explodes. The only way to disarm it seems to be a code of some kind.'

'How long do we have?' Spencer asked, not bothering to mask his desperation. This couldn't be happening. Of all the people, it had to be you.

'Six hours now,' she said grimly. 'My team and I will do everything we can to dismantle it and shut it off manually, but it's built quite strong so it'll be tough to crack open without setting it off. Your best bet will be to get an answer from your bomber.'

'Uniforms just called in,' Rossi said. 'They're bringing him in now.'

'Good,' Hotch said with a ferocity that would send most people running for the hills. 'He's gonna give us that code one way or another.' He turned to you, determination blazing in his eyes. 'Hang tight, (Y/n). We're gonna get you off that thing.'

'I'll hold you to that,' you joked, and you were grateful to receive a soft smile in return from Hotch and the rest of the team. Except for Spencer, he couldn't find it in himself to smile. He could barely think no thanks to your dangerous position.

'I'll stay with (Y/n),' Spencer said, his voice strained compared to his usual calmness.

'Reid,' Derek started, 'you're our best bet to crack open this guy. If we find something-'

'Then I'll have my phone ready to pick up. I'm not leaving her.'

It surprised you the strength you heard hidden underneath his fear. It was there in his eyes too, blazing like Hotch's, except with more warmth, more determination.

Derek looked to Hotch, and Hotch just nodded. 'Okay fine, but you better pick up on the first ring.'

'Promise.'

'I'll stay to help with the bomb squad,' Emily said while also looking at you.

'No,' you said as Hotch, Derek and JJ left. 'You all should go. In case he somehow remotely sets it off himself.'

'We're not leaving,' Reid said firmly, making eye contact with you. 'Not until you're off that bomb, you hear me?'

You wanted to argue, trying to be selfless and strong. But the truth was you were terrified, and to hear Spencer's strength where you lacked helped you push your pride aside and nod in agreement.

Time had flown by and it was now the last ten minutes. Spencer had received phone call after phone call but nothing had been helpful. They'd tried two potential codes already but they didn't work. The bomb squad quickly realised that they only had three chances to get the code right and so they were down to the last chance.

'You guys should really leave,' you said amidst your chattering teeth. It was now just after midnight and your thin button up and the bulletproof vest were not cutting it anymore. Spencer wished he could give you a blanket, a jacket, his own shirt for God's sake if it would keep you warm slightly.

'That's not going to happen,' he answered without hesitation.

You yawned, eyes threatening to droop close. Your legs had gone numb long ago. You were unsure how you were holding yourself up. It certainly wasn't by adrenaline. Perhaps you were frozen in place.

'I mean it, Spence,' you said, bracing yourself as another shiver threatened to spasm your entire body. 'It's the last ten minutes. You should be clear in case it goes off.'

'I'm not going to do that.'

'Damnit, Spencer. Of all the times to be stubborn, you choose now?'

'I'm not being stubborn,' Spencer argued. Were you purposefully trying to tick him off now? 'I'm trying to save your life!'

'You're right, you're not being stubborn. You're being plain stupid,' you retorted. You weren't sure why you were suddenly so angry, you just didn't like him playing the hero when he didn't have to.

'Yes! I am stupid, I admit that. I'll announce that to the entire neighbourhood right now if you want me to! Because if it weren't for me being an idiot, you wouldn't have had those dates, you wouldn't have had a date tonight, and maybe you wouldn't be stuck standing on a bomb right now!'

You stared incredulously at Spencer. He blamed himself for your situation? For Riley?

Despite the bustling of people around them, everything grew silent as youO stared at one another, Spencer's chest heaving as he sucked in air hard.

'Spence,' you said softly, your anger suddenly dissipating. 'I don't blame you for any of this. I would've ended up on this bomb one way or another. Or even worse, it could've been you standing on it. And as for Riley...' You thought the tears would come up again like before, but your eyes remained dry, and your heart didn't pull harshly.

Not for Riley, anyways.

'Did something happen between you two?' Spencer tentatively asked. His tone bordered on concerned and hopeful, demonstrating his torn mindset to whatever you were about to say.

You nodded. 'I told him I had to go to work, which wasn't unusual, but he just flipped. Said he was sick of me choosing you guys over him and that he was finished.'

He hated himself for feeling the slightest bit happy at the news, but his best friend instincts kicked in, and all he wanted to do was reach out and hold you. 'I'm sorry. You could've said no. We would've understood-'

'Spencer, I will always choose you guys over anyone,' you interjected, and the complete seriousness on your face reflected your sincerity brighter than the full moon above. 'I will always choose you, Spence.'

It was then Spencer saw it: the same feeling he'd had swirling in his stomach for months reflected in your eyes. It scared him, but what scared him more was that it would all be gone soon if he didn't do anything about it.

He would be too late, just like Derek said.

The bomb squad lady and Emily walked up to them both, and Spencer did not like the grim expressions on their faces.

'I'm sorry,' the bomb squad lady said. 'It's the last five minutes. There's nothing else we can do but clear out of the blast zone.'

'What about the code?' Spencer pressed, but Emily shook her head.

'Reid, they've gotten nothing out of him. We've got to go.'

'But we can't just leave her here-'

'Trust me, Spencer, I don't want to either!' Emily cried, tears pricking at her eyes at the thought of you dying. 'But we can't do anything for her here. I've got the remote to input the code if they get another one, but until then, we've got to clear from the blast zone.'

'No.' Spencer shook his head vigourously. He couldn't accept this. He wouldn't accept this.

'Spencer,' you tried gently. 'It's okay. I can do the rest alone. I want you to be safe.'

'Well, too bad, because I'm staying.'

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rushed down your cheeks. 'Damnit, Spencer. Please, just go. Don't make this harder than it already is.'

Spencer took a daring step towards you, the tops of his shoes dangling just over the edge of the pavement. 'I won't abandon you. Not again.'

You were most likely a blubbering mess, your heart hurting so much at the thought that he would get caught up in your mess. 'God, why don't you just leave-'

'Because I love you, (Y/n)!'

The four of you stood dumbfounded as his proclamation echoed through the yard, the house, the street back out the front. Hell, Spencer hoped the whole world heard what he said, because he felt free for the first time in months, weightless, powerful.

And it was all because of you.

'I love you,' he repeated again, softer this time. As the reality of the situation came crashing down on him, tears of his own sprouted in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He'd finally built up the courage to tell you, and you were minutes away from being blown up.

Through your tears, you find it in yourself to chuckle a little. It's watery and gross-sounding, but Spencer likes it none the less because it's yours, and you haven't lost complete hope. 'Talk about great timing, you big idiot.' And then there it is, that bright smile he saw day one in the office. You wore it with such pride, such strength it pulled at Spencer's heart strings painfully. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer Reid.'

'One minute,' the bomb squad lady said, her tone frantic now. 'We've got to move! Now!'

'Reid, come on!' Emily cried, backing up with the bomb squad.

'I won't abandon her,' he replied, never taking his eyes off you.

'Reid please!'

Before he could reply, though, his phone buzzed, and he immediately answered the call. 'Please tell me you go it.'

'HOME! The code word is HOME!'

'Punch in HOME!' Reid called out to Emily, keeping Derek on the line as he stared at you. If you were to die, he was gonna make damn sure the last thing you saw wasn't an unfamiliar face.

'Are you sure?'

'We're out of time! Do it!'

'Spence...' you muttered. But you never finished your sentence, as your breath got caught while watching Emily punch in the code into the device. You closed your eyes. Soon you would be in eternal darkness. You would not fear it, but embrace it.

But when nothing happened, you dared to sneak a peek at what was going on. You saw Spencer first, who looked at Emily, who looked at the device in her hands. The deathly silence was finally broken at the sound of a green light on the device switching on. You then heard a hundred tiny clicks somewhere underfoot and felt yourself being pushed up back onto level ground.

Spencer finally looked back to you, eyes blown wide with hope he dared not realise. That same hope fuelled your frozen, tired legs, to take the tiniest of steps forward, and when nothing happened, you took your other foot off the bomb and collapsed forward into Spencer's arms.

His heart pounded faster than the jet that flew them all over the country every week as he cradled you simultaneously gently and tightly. You sobbed into his chest, your arms circling around his back and pulling him as tight as possible.

Oh, how he had missed your touch, your affection, your love, you.

'It's okay, you're okay,' he soothed, patting your hair down with one hand while he cradled you with the other. 'I'm here. We're all here.' He realised suddenly he'd dropped his phone, and so with one hand, he reached down and picked it up, bringing it to his ear. 'She's off.'

He barely heard the cheers of excitement and relief on Derek's end before he was hanging up and helping you to your feet. After that, it was a whirlwind of the bomb squad excavating the bomb, paramedics arriving, and CSU investigating the house.

After giving his statement of events to the local police and finishing speaking to other officials, he found you wrapped in a trauma blanket in the open back of an ambulance.

'How are you feeling?' he said as he approached you.

You broke free of your own world to look at Spencer, and a soft smile managed its way onto your lips. 'Well, I can feel my legs again so that's a start. And you?'

'All the better now that you're not standing on a bomb.'

You chuckled, though a red tinge dusted your cheeks out of embarrassment. 'I must admit, it's true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes the moment before you die.'

'Really? What did you see?' Spencer had read articles about this kind of stuff before, but had never spoken with a person who'd experience it themselves.

You didn't answer straight away, instead standing up to face him fully. Your legs felt like jelly a little but you stood strong. 'I saw you,' you replied easily, as if breathing air. 'Only you.'

Spencer couldn't hold it back, his fear, his relief. It all came bubbling out in an ugly sob as he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, pressing his face into your hair, using your scent to calm himself. He felt you sobbing too, how your body shook with your own anxieties.

'I missed you,' you said, your words muffled into his chest.

'I know, I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I missed you, too.' He pulled you back slightly so that he could see your face. He wiped at your tears and forced his best smile just for you. 'But I'm back now. And I'm not going anywhere. That is... if you want me around.'

You heard his silent question, and it made you smile how confident and shy he could be simultaneously.

'Spencer Reid,' you murmured, like what you were about to say next was your biggest secret, 'of course I want you around. I love you.'

He chuckled with relief, tears still pricking at his eyes. But your words sealed your fate, as he used his small amount of confidence to grab the back of your neck gently and pull your lips to his.

You were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, and dare he compare you the most addictive drug he could ever hope to get high on. He couldn't get enough of you, and it was such a relief to finally let it out how much he needed you to breathe.

You were equally breathless, simultaneously feeling all consumed by Spencer's love without also having enough of it. Your fingers danced in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, threading yourself into him as much as possible. The truth was, the past four months were torturous.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

As you both finally broke apart, you pressed your foreheads together, nervous giggles of teenagers bubbling up in you both. This was fresh and new, but the love you had for one another had been there all along. No one was going anywhere.

'Finally!'

You and Spencer looked up to see the rest of the team watching from afar, with Emily and JJ smiling giddily, Derek and Rossi trying to suppress laughter, and Hotch having the simplest of grins on his lips.

'Oh, babygirl is going to have a field day when she hears about this,' Derek said, walking up to clap Spencer on the back and give him a hug. 'Well done, man.'

'It's about time,' Rossi said as the rest of the team joined you both. 'I thought I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.'

'Thank God you didn't,' Emily said, both her and JJ giving you a hug. 'As much as this has been traumatic for all of us, I'm so glad it brought you back together.'

'Say that to my poor legs,' you whined, but you hugged them just as tight. Truthfully, you felt the same. And as Reid held you in his arms that night, having refused to let you out of his sight after your brush with death, you couldn't be more grateful for it, too.

[chil2de]

hi yes the benimaru fic i mentioned earlier— fire force fandom will you let me in please??🥺🥺 i don’t know what i’m dealing with fanbase wise mmfldjfj sometimes it feels like i’m head over heels for bens by myself so... i’ll drop this here for now.. see how it goes and i’ll continue w/ a second part if ff isn’t dead

nsfw themes throughout, so please read my disclaimer if you’re new. enjoy :)

w.c: 1.7k, characters: 9.6k (incl spaces)

-

there’s a certain sluggish quality that plagues your movements. it’s not fatigue or incompetence. or so benimaru would hope.

his mix matched gaze glosses over your unnecessary movements. that extra exhale you hiss, the additional bat of your eyelashes and the excessive perspiration that drips onto the earth below.

“stop.” he commands, tone low and stern as it pierces through the open air.

“huh? captain shinmon, i’m fine. we can keep going.” you huff through laboured breaths, pausing to gasp and drink in the plentiful oxygen around you.

“it’s one thing if you’re overworking your muscles. it’s another if you’re running a fever. go inside.”

“b-but captain-“

benimaru shoots you a dead stare, keeping his statement rooted deep where he stands.

judging by the bruises that adorn your knees, you know better than to disobey the captain.

“waka! have you seen (l/n)?” konro lingers in the doorframe of the main communal area, gaze scanning for one of his colleagues.

“she’s in her room. why?”

“her room? she has a few errands to run. is she feeling okay?”

“she’s running a fever.” benimaru exhales, shifting to get up from the table. he lightly scratches the back of his neck, adorning that usual aloof facial expression.

“in the middle of summer? how’d that happen?” konro chuckles through a small glimpse of bewilderment. of course he’d be concerned for one of his best recruits.

“hell if i know. what do we need? i’ll head out.”

if anything, benimaru is probably the sole reason why you’re running a fever. why he subjected to railing you underneath water that felt like it was nearing sub-zero was beyond you. it’s not like he’s about to admit he enjoys fucking his special little fire soldier. how he relishes and engrains the sight of your fucked out facial expression deep into his head, burning the image into his retinas. shit, you wouldn’t be surprised if the reason why he sometimes spaces out is because of you.

it’s always been blatantly obvious that you’re the captain’s favourite, no matter how much he denies it and how many glares he shoots at the people from other companies. you’re always left apologising for his behaviour, attempting to keep a straight face.

for the one time you dragged him out to patrol with you, and the amount of incessant whining, complaints and bribes you offered your captain, after a full month of lovely slow burn he decided to come along with you. he just up and left, had the audacity to turn around and ask you why you’re still standing there. benimaru always kept his distance to yours close, in fact the separation was almost minimal. you could feel his shoulders ghost over you.

every time he noticed someone staring at your figure for a little bit too long to be deemed appropriate, he hissed a scoff of distaste. at around the third or fourth person, you were already forced to deal with his short temper.

“what the hell are you gawking at? mind your damn business.”

but sure. apparently you’re not his favourite.

he can scoff and complain all he wants, but that won’t stop him even now from lazily snaking his hand around to his favourite baby girl’s waist. to him, this seems like the most normal thing.

“how else is she going to stand upright? she’s all stick and bones, the wind will knock her right over.”

okay, benimaru. you keep telling yourself that. even when his fingers feel an itch every time they’re not touching a part of your skin. he tends to get a whole lot more mouthy and irritable every time you’re not around, too.

hell, even his own townsfolk pick up on the fact that he’s out and about more. rounds that he always left to the lesser important underlings became more commonplace, especially with you by his side.

but the things that go on behind closed doors?

his peppermint red eyes that haunt your mind, infiltrating your very thoughts. you could be minding your business, going on about your day until you get an abrupt flicker of his mundane tic-tac-toe gaze staring up at you from in between your thighs.

you could be taking care of hinata and hikage, entertaining their antics when you feel the weight of benimaru’s stare burn holes into your uniform.

you could be doing your daily sparring with the captain. in the zone, breath held and blood stream steady until you remember the feel of his hot tongue trailing along the side of your neck. for someone who seems to be stuck in a perpetual state of sadness, you always catch the arrogant smirk that pulls at his lips.

“thinking of something?” he’ll cock his eyebrows, using the distraction to take a jab to your gut.

you groan, stirring around in your bed. you hate him, hate that stupid half lidded gaze of his. you hate how soft his wavy jet black locks are. the way the strands tug and bend whenever you try to yank his face away from your cunt. you run your fingers through your hair in a valiant yet futile attempt to free your thoughts from your captain. it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and you haven’t done anything but reminisce about your lover for the past hour and a half.

a meek and uneven sigh hisses from your lips. your eyes screw open and you flinch at the hard sunlight that pours in from the window. as you use the inner portion of your elbow to shield your gaze, you catch glimpse of a very familiar figure in the doorway.

“captain shinmon?” you inquire, propping yourself up onto your elbows. he closes the door behind him. you’re certain that you looked like a loyal dog sat panting and wagging its tail upon discovering the return of their owner.

“excited to see me?” he remarks in a flat tone, opening the grocery bag he’s carrying before setting a few things down onto your nightstand. it’s mostly medicine, though he snags a few of your favourite snacks and drinks. there’s also one of those fascinating green tea bottles that you buy at the vending machines, except they’re served piping hot.

“how’re you feeling?”

“i told you i was going to get sick if we had the water that cold.” you huff, averting your gaze in a fit.

“not my problem you can’t take a little temperature difference”

“a little? that shit was freezing! how the hell can you take water that cold?”

“how can you not?”

you chuckle a little, shifting to stare up at the ceiling.

“don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“you know i don’t do paperwork. sure as hell not gonna start doing it now.” benimaru huffs, kicking his boots off by the door. you can hear his clothes rustling and your head snaps to face him. he shoots you a glare, as though to scold you. it’s dripping on his face. ‘really? you’re so eager.’

“move up.” he cocks his head to the side, motioning for you to move over. you shift up, room spinning a little too much for your tastes. the mattress dips with his weight and his right arm (our left) reflexively hangs in the air for you to dip your head into the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet. he discards his navy kimono, the article of clothing hangs on one of the hooks at the back of your door. it’s probably not much comfort for him to be relaxing in a bed with half of his uniform still on.

you squish your face against his hard chest, head rising and falling in time with his breathing. the said arm relaxes and his hand rests against your shoulder. subsequently, you realise this is the first time you’ve seen him fully without his kimono on. at the very least, he’d still have the other sleeve on.

benimaru notices your blatant staring at his other arm. he can’t comprehend why you’d gawk at it now, since he’s used it plenty of times to choke you.

he hums a small ‘hm’ in question, asking you what you’re so fascinated about. you can feel his voice thrum and rock against his chest, it sends small shivers licking your body that he doesn’t miss.

“you look so funny without your kimono on. why don’t you wear it like this more often?” you drag your nails softly against his biceps. there’s a small groan that hisses from him. as you await his response, you outline a large vein that runs from his upper arm and trails down all the way to his wrist.

“i get cold easily.”

“then why did you take a shower with me?”

“are you hearing yourself?”

surely a little bit of his body temperature was enough to sacrifice. even if it meant he was sneezing a little bit and shivering afterwards.

“seriously? you can take a tranquiliser but you can’t stand a little cold?”

“you’ll make a shitty wife if you can’t even keep me warm.”

“beni!” you hiss at benimaru in appaul, craning your face up to guffaw at him. the manners on him sometimes are despicable.

you pout, shifting your upper weight to flick benimaru in between his eyebrows. he screws his face in mutiny, lips curled into a scowl.

you and him both know that if it were anyone else flicking him like that, they’d be sent crashing through six different blocks of houses down the street.

“oi.” he warns you, tutting.

“konro come by and work some voodoo magic bullshit on you? ‘cause you’re testing your luck by pissing me off. you’re such a menace when you’re sick, it’s unbelievable.”

you hum in awe, inching your face closer towards his. there’s a wave of mockery that paints your face green and you can only laugh at the unrest that swirls in benimaru’s eyes.

he won’t have his pet talking down to him like that. no, no. that just won’t do.

“oh? really? you want me to do it again?” you flash him a cocky smirk, digits curled into a flicking position. you rest the bridge of your middle finger against benimaru’s forehead, slicking some of his charcoal stained locks out the way.

his left hand flies to catch your hand in an instant. with just two of his fingers, he can wrap himself around your wrist. his touch is assertive, firm. he can drag you the fuck away from him as he pleases, but there’s no real malice or force behind him just yet.

“yeah? try me.” he barks, peering down at you through his lashes.

you just might.

[plan-d-to-i]

Since I stalk the Wen Ruohan tag on here as well as ao3 and Twitter (I confess I'm a vilain f*cker I can't resist that evil dilf lol) I noticed lately some strange trends

The 1st one is the rise of the WRH/YZY fics, because people truly believe the reason YZY's marriage was so miserable and shitty was because of JFM somehow and not her toxic abusive ass and that YZY would be able to form a healthier happier relationship with anyone else especially someone like WRH who can and will have her head rolling down the stairs of his Palace if she tried to treat him half as bad as she did JFM. If YZY had married anyone else I doubt she would last a year of marriage, it's no surprise she picked JFM because he was the most likely to put up with her sh*t without retaliation. Another similar trend I noticed is the JC/WRH fics which is just ewww but it's even more weird when they make WRH the "good" father figure for JC because JFM is just sooo abusive and neglectful to poor baby grape that the tyrant who gave us Wen Chao is somehow a better father than him

Idk I feel my man JFM gets more shit than he deserves from this Fandom. Like once I saw a post of someone saying that if they could kill 3 characters in mdzs to make everyone's lives better it would be: WRH, JGS, JFM. I get the 1st two but what did JFM do to be on the same level as them? It's just strange to me how so many people hate JFM only because he saved an orphan from the streets and gave him a home and maybe sometimes praised him for doing good and wasn't madly in love with the woman who forced him to marry her and then treated him like shit all the time

"I confess I'm a vilain f*cker I can't resist that evil dilf lol"

- lol - Respect. <3

Honestly I'm surprised they didn't say they'd kill JFM, WWX, and LWJ. Then they can try to make jc the one true mc! and the book can be called: the Grandmaster of Greed, Hatred and Ignorance :*･゜ﾟ･*☆.

I've seen the "Wen Ruohan would be a better father to sad grape bby jiang cheng >:-/ than evil JFM" discourse and I think it's absolutely hilarious. On one hand JFM gently corrects jc about not letting people die and jc stans are like "OMG abuSE!", even though JFM is your average reserved dad, and YZY is clearly the one who pours all that poison in jc's ear about his father's love being lacking. But yeah let's look at Wen Ruohan:

There were also a few instruments of torture. Iron rings, sharp spikes, silver hooks—all seemed strange. Just looking at their appearance could make one shiver in fear. Wei WuXian knew that these were probably made by Jin GuangYao. The QishanWen Sect’s leader, Wen RuoHan, had a moody, violent personality. He loved the sight of blood and sometimes took enjoyment in torturing those that offended him. Jin GuangYao was only able to capture Wen RuoHan’s interest by catering to his needs, making all sorts of cruel yet amusing devices. (Chapter 47) Meng Yao, “That’s right. It was him. Sect Leader, are you going to kill your foe right now, or drag him to the Fire Palace? My personal suggestion is to take him to the Fire Palace.” The “Fire Palace” was Wen RuoHan’s playground. It was where he collected thousands of torture devices for tormenting people. This meant that Meng Yao was unwilling to give Nie Mingjue a straightforward death. Meng Yao wanted to take him to Wen RuoHan’s torturing grounds and forge him through the devices that he himself had made until he finally died.

YES! Wen Ruohan who loved the sight of blood, whose love language was instruments of torture, and whose playground was a TORTURE PALACE would really be a soft fuzzy father to whiny, needy jc w his uninspiring cultivation. He'd probably carry him in his arms around the torture palace and they'd laugh over all the torture instruments- just father son things. WRH would definitely let YZY's Clan pressure him into marrying her and then permit YZY to scream at him in front of servants and treat Wen Clan like she's better than it. He definitely wouldn't raze Meishan Yu to the ground. On the other hand are jc stans saying that Wen Ruohan, an unhinged, abusive, power obsessed maniac, who doesn't give af about the common ppl, with a hard on for torture is more suited to jiang cheng's temperament and world views? because actually they might have stumbled onto something.

“Lan WangJi and Jin ZiXuan and those people can just die! Just let them die! What’s their deaths got to do with us?! To do with our sect?! Why did this have to happen?! Why?! “Go die, go die, go die! Everyone!!!” (jiang cheng, Chapter 58).

That Sect Leader Jiang was cracking a glowing whip right on the training field. The victim’s flesh and blood flew as high as his screams! A servant secretly informed him that the sect leader caught the wrong person again, that he hadn’t been in a great mood, and that he definitely shouldn’t be irritated in any way.” (Chapter 92)

ok I see it now.

[wakaoujisenhime]

200 event! :D A scenario for Bakugo x reader x Kirishima poly. What if their fem s/o takes a hard hit to save a child jumping in front of a blow from an enemy? The injury nearly kills her but in the end she survives, and fully recovers. How would they react to this? (I actually requested something almost exactly like this once for Hashirama, Tobirama, and Minato awhile back. Now I’d like to see it done for these two.) And congratulations on 200! You are amazing and deserve it! 🥰

A/N: Thank you for trusting me with this, I hope you’ll like it! Also...that’s actually quite the cute scenario for these three Hokages 👀 Enjoy! 

Tags: Bakugou x reader x Kirishima ✅  poly relationship ✅  fluff ✅  slight angst ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

More than you can imagine - Bakugou x reader x Kirishima

What were you thinking when you jumped in front of that small child?

Your team had been sent out to evacuate the area while the present pro heroes handled the threat and everything seemed to go just as you had planned it, but that’s when a giant villain caught your attention. He was towering in front of a small child who tried to save their parental figure from some ruble that had injured their leg. You watched in horror as the adult tried to warn and prompt their child to run away, but seeing how hard that young person continued to struggle motivated you. And before you noticed it, you were already running in their direction, ignoring the two screaming voices of your loved ones behind you, you sprinted for the small child who had finally realized the inescapable situation. Just as the villain was about to hit that small figure in front of him you jumped in between them and tried to reduce the attack’s damage with your own quirk’s impact, but the last thing you remember hearing before everything went black was two familiar voices calling your name.

After what seemed like a couple of minutes you slowly opened your eyes and were greeted by an entirely white room. You wanted to look around some more, but a sudden wave of pain halted any planned movement of yours. A silent groan escaped your mouth and that’s when you felt someone squeeze your left hand.

“(Y/N)...you’re finally awake.“ said a deep and tired voice.

“Katsuki? Is that you?“

As if to answer your question he stood up from his seat beside you and carefully leaned himself down to where your head was resting as he finally responded in his usual and cheeky tone: “Who else would it be dumbass?”

Even if he tried to sound like his usual self, you still managed to hear the slight worry and tremble in his voice, a realization that made you quite sad. You wanted to make sure that he was ok, but that’s when you finally remembered the incident with that small child.

“W-What happened to that child? A-And the parent..? Are t-they safe? Or what about t-the villain? Where is he?“

You were visibly panicking and thanks to the vital sign patient monitor next to your bed Bakugou was also able to see the evident rise in your heart rate, so he did what he always did in order to calm you down. His big hands took a hold of your cheeks, squeezing them lightly as he brought his forehead closer to yours until they eventually bumped into each other as he whispered: “It’s all been taken care of...calm yourself down.”

The familiar gesture of his made you smile and it indeed helped you calm down. He always did that when either you or Kirishima were freaking out, mad, or just upset in general and something about his method always helped you come down from your raging emotions.

Now that I think about it...where is Kirishima?

You once again began looking around, but thanks to the tight bandages on your neck your head only moved a couple of millimeters that really didn’t help much with your plan.

“If you’re looking for Kirishima then you really don’t have to worry...he’s sleeping right next to you.”

To prove his point he gently lifted your head up just enough so that you caught a glimpse of the red-haired young man sleeping on the right side of your bed while his hand had grasped your own right one. The peaceful sight of your normally energetic lover conjured a smile on your face which was then passed onto the blond young man who carefully returned you in your former lying state. Before the two of you continued your talk he quickly left the room to tell a nurse that you’ve regained consciousness.

While he was gone you listened to the light breathing of the sleeping man beside you and smiled to yourself. You gently squeezed his big hand and caressed the back of his palm with your thumb when his head suddenly shot up.

“Oh my god (Y/N), you’re finally awake! Baku-..Bakugou? Where is he? How could he miss this important moment?!”

Seeing him panic like that gave you quite the déjà vu and you couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. Not wanting to keep him on tenterhooks you subsequently told him that the man in question had left to inform the hospital staff of your awakening. Relief spread across Kirishima’s facial features and he once again took a seat next to you as the both of you waiting for the others’ arrival.

The nurses finally arrived alongside your other boyfriend and after they asked you a couple of routine questions they finally moved on to a physical exam. A couple of minutes later they discussed something amongst each other while the three of you tensely waited for their estimation.

“Alright, then we have some news. Your body seems to have recovered almost completely, but we’d like to keep you here for at least another day or two to see how well you’d do without the bandages.”

You nodded understandably but for some reason, Bakugou seemed rather opposed to that idea, but instead of lashing out at them he, much to your surprise, remained quiet. Only when they had left the room he finally exploded and began screaming something about how they could have the audacity and why Kirishima and he couldn’t just take care of you at home. While you just stared at him in confusion the red-haired young man tried to calm him down so that they could explain everything to you.

“I still can’t believe that you could be that reckless! Just what were you thinking, you airhead?!”

Not even a minute had passed and the blond was already lecturing you and all you could do was remain silent and nod. From a fourth person’s viewpoint, it would seem pretty insensitive of the blond to scream at you like that, but this was simply his way of showing you that he genuinely cared and was worried for you. After he finished he simply stood up and went to your room’s windows, leaving the explanations to Kirishima who only giggled and then sat down on the small stool next to your bed.

“Well you see (Y/N) after that villain’s attack hit you, you immediately lost consciousness and well...your injury didn’t look mild at all so as panicked as the two of us were, one of the pro heroes took it upon themself to bring you to the hospital.” he paused and began to softly play with your fingers before continuing  “Baku-...the two of us were pretty upset that they didn’t allow us to take you to the hospital, but I guess that was their way of trying to distract us and even though it worked for a couple of hours, the moment we set foot here the doctors packed quite the punch with your condition...”

You noticed how his and Katsuki’s facial muscles immediately tensed up, their expressions growing grim at the unpleasant memory. Knowing them and their typical behavior patterns, you refrained from prying or even saying anything and just waited until one of them continued.

Kirishima told you how your entire torso’s bone structure had been literally smashed to pieces by the villain’s blow and that at first, the doctors weren’t that optimistic concerning your recovery. Bakugou didn’t like that attitude at all and had apparently made it clear by doing what he does best: screaming. Neither he nor the red-haired man next to you elaborated what they had said or done, but they had apparently pulled some strings and called Recovery Girl over to take a look at you. She of course agreed to help you, but she said that even with her quirk’s help it would be up to your body to do the rest, and as unsatisfying as that answer was, they had no other choice but to accept it. You had been bedridden for almost an entire month and the doctors had told your two lovers that you might actually be in a coma considering that you weren’t making any signs of waking up anytime soon. They were given an ultimatum until the end of the month. They had to decide whether they’d like to keep you hooked on all the necessary machines or turn them off...and their decision was due today.

“S-So if I hadn’t woken up today...then you two would’ve...?“

Kirishima looked at you with his big and glassy red eyes, nodding silently, but just when he opened his mouth to tell you something, Bakugou beat him to it.

“But you woke up, didn’t you?! That’s it, end of the story.“ he abruptly turned around, facing the two of you as he took a deep breath and continued “I’ll go and grab some apples from those nosy nurses, and by the time I’m back I don’t want to see those mopy expressions on you two, got that?!“

And with that statement he stormed off, leaving Kirishima and you alone.

“You know, just between the two of us...he was really worried about you, like really worried. He refused to go back home and insisted on sleeping here next to you and even though the nurses forbid him to enter your room for the first couple of days, he still came over with a folding chair and sat right outside of your door. They’d call me every night and lecture me about it, but somewhere deep inside of me I understood where he was coming from, so after they finally allowed visitors even I decided to join him and every single night or free day we had we were here...waiting for you to wake up.“

The imagination of the two of them always being beside you, sick with worry made you tear up a little and your lover noticed that. He gently wrapped his arms around you and softly caressed your slightly trembling body.

“The hell is this? I come back, hoping that you’d be grinning like idiots by now and what do I find? More ugly crying faces than before...god, you’re impossible.“

While the two of you cried in each other’s arms, the blond sat down and started cutting the apples he’d brought, listening to your sobby apologies and how you’d think before acting next time. You explain that at that moment it was as if your feet had moved on their own and at that familiar sentence Bakugou finally interrupted you.

“(Y/N), I get what you want to say, but what annoyed me the most was the fact that you didn’t react to our screaming back then. I am a hero who can fight in close combat as well as in a more distanced one and while you were running toward that child I was preparing my AP Shot. Kirishima and I wanted to warn you to get out of the way, but you didn’t listen. And if you think that I was the only one worried sick about your condition, then you better think twice, cause shitty hair over there cried himself to sleep every night, thinking that his stupid excuse of not getting enough sleep would work on me. You wanna know why he avoided visiting you every day? Cause it reminded him of his helpless self back then and the thought that he couldn’t protect you-“

“Ok I think that’s enough...let us stop talking about it, please.“

Both men looked at you, surprised that it was you who interrupted the blond’s line of thought. You wordlessly stretched your arms out and waited for them to wrap their arms around you and embrace you like always. It took a short while and a bit of persuasion until they had finally hugged you and the moment their muscular bodies were wrapped around your in comparison smaller one, you simply ruffled their hair, kissed both of their cheeks, and said: “I’m sorry you two, I know I’ve worried you and I’d like to apologize one last time. Thank you for not giving up on me...I love you.”

We love you too...more than you can imagine

[kiliinstinct]

Violet Moon - Chapter 1

Technically, this is my halloween post for the @thenaluarchive fall Event, with a Halloween twist. It’s being posted early as it does have chapters. (Up to Five) and I plan for the final Chapter to be posted on the day of Halloween!

If you’d like to be notified when this is updated, feel free to tell me in the replies or in a DM that you’d like to be added to a tag-list for this!

Enjoy!

[Chapter 2]

--

Natsu never did see a point in wolves howling at the moon.

It didn’t make sense to him. Why the moon? Why was it ALWAYS the moon?  He didn’t believe it was a thing. Just something media producers cooked up for their movies and t.v. shows. Not that he knew where the myth came from: studying and history had never been his strong point. Natsu just knew the idea was ridiculous. 

Wolves howled, but not because the moon was out.  The gentle glow  in the night was good for light, lovely to look at, but no reason to howl. Natsu barely paid attention to the orb in the sky. It was just there. Much like the sun. 

Until she pointed it out.

“Ooh, the Moon is so pretty tonight!”

Her voice was full of glee as she pointed to the full glow beaming through the clouds.

 “AROOOO!!!,” She howled. ”Ha, ha!”

Hearing his best friend pretend to howl made Natsu want to join, grinning as he laughed along. Lucy was a pretty funny person when she was drunk. Tonight was no different. His dark eyes followed  her gaze and he couldn’t resist reaching out to poke her between the ribs. “What d’ya think you’re doing that for, you weirdo?”

A shriek mixed with Lucy’s laughter and she twisted from his mischievous fingers. Stumbling away, she pouted, lips pursing tightly together.  Natsu worried she might fall over, but she caught the railing of the balcony and became steady. She whined through her teeth, glossy eyes glaring at him.  “Rude! Wolves howl, so why can’t I?”

God, He chuckled. She was just.. So… weird.  

“Just for that,” Lucy said imperiously, her arms crossed, “you’re not getting any kisses from me!”

In a good way. 

Natsu choked, “Wait, hold up-,” sputtering as heat rushed to his face. Did she ALWAYS have to get so flirty after a few drinks? Talk about an awkward moment!!  “-You never give me kisses anyway!”

“Well, maybe I was going to, but I’m not now!!”

A ball formed in Natsu’s throat, tongue swiping across sharp canines before he regained his senses. He snorted. “Sheesh, you need to get some water. You’re talking nonsense.”

Lucy whined again in offense as her bottom lip jutted out. It quivered as he led her back inside where the sounds of a loud party bashed into his ears like drums. People chatted and joked with one another while haunted notes from the radio hummed in the air. It was a small get-together with friends a week before Halloween. Natsu  was sure to feel sick in the morning from the amount of candy he’d consumed, but did he care? Not one bit. He regretted nothing, but the empty wrappers strewn about his living room.  (It would be such a chore to clean later.)  At least they had all the time to spend together, with other friends just as riled up as they were. It was a good night so far. 

Apple Cider, candy, and random  spilled candy corn littered the floor of his small apartment. He’d have to find some way to trick someone into staying behind to help him out. Certainly not Lucy, who wobbled by his side. On a normal night, he may have considered begging her to stay, but her ability to walk was miraculous at best.  Even with his hand pressed against the small of her back barely balanced her. Lucy leaned left and right, giggling every time she stumbled. Why had she drank so much? (Did she drink too much? He only remembered her downing a couple, but maybe her tolerance stayed lacking?)

Natsu was positive - over the music, chatter and bursts of laughter in the room - he heard her mention the floor was walking away. Without her. Dodging even.  Good grief! He was going to kill Cana. Wasn’t she the one handling the booze tonight?

“Hey, Levy?” He signaled to his shorter friend, who was splayed out on the laps of her two friends, Jet and Droy. The couch cushions sagged under their joined weight and Levy, the shortest of them all, lazily tilted her gaze his way, curious. “Can you get Lucy back to her place for me? She’s needing some water and sleep.”  Best to have another girl take her home. Perhaps others found it silly, considering they were neighbors in a safe complex (and had been for years-), but it felt safest sending her with someone else. 

“Mmmn, Natsu-” Lucy slurred, frowning, “I don’t need t’go home jessh yet!” Her cheeks reddened in consternation. “Ah still haven’t got m’good night kiss!”  Oh yes, it was definitely safest that someone OTHER than him take her home.  Was it just him, or was she getting worse? Sending his  pleading gaze to his blue-haired friend who was struggling to sit up, he held Lucy up in his arms and gulped. 

She was far too tempting sober, why did she have to do this when she wasn’t? 

A blessing in disguise was Levy. She only drank one glass of cider that night, being the closest one to sober, and more than ready to take on the job of chaperone. She jumped from the couch- and ignored the way her friend Jet immediately took all the space for himself- and rushed towards the two. She tip-toed around the mess on the floor, twirled around the corner of the coffee table and lightly padded herself across the room and straight to Lucy. Amusement glowed on her face as she wrapped her arm around Lucy’s the moment she was in range.

“I’ll make sure she’s good and taken care of,” She chirped, winking at Natsu. “Don’t get too jealous if I’m the one who gets the kiss though!”  

They both giggled together as Levy carefully ushered Lucy towards the exit hall, waving at the others as they went. Natsu stood frozen in place, cheeks red as he squawked in surprised outrage. 

“W-who said I’d care?!” He shouted, voice not carrying over the din. Which was good, because he didn’t put enough force into the words for them to be taken seriously.  As the door slammed shut and Lucy’s drunken giggles became muffled through the apartment halls, a sudden quiet filled the room. The group’s drunken bravado died. Almost like it never existed.  Truth be told, it didn’t.

Some of the best actors, Natsu had to admit.  Guilt weighed in his stomach at the thought, but Natsu was used to it. They put on this act for Lucy, and for that, he was grateful. Scratching the back of his neck, he turned to the others and grinned. It didn’t meet his eyes.

“Y’know we don’t have to stop the moment she leaves.” He said, eying the radio and wondering who had shut the tunes off.  While his focus hadn’t been on the music, he liked the background beat.

“Way to state the obvious, “Another of his friends (rival, he’d  declare), Gray replied, leaning back in his chair as he stretched. A shirt was tossed to him from across the room and he covered himself, but his gaze stayed on Natsu,  “Lucy still thinks you’re unable to host the party on Halloween right?”

The topic change caused Natsu’s demeanor to melt from amusement to serious. Another lie. A very necessary one that was the excuse needed to hold the party today rather than later. Lucy had bought it, hook line and sinker. Just as she had every year.  And would hopefully, buy it next year as well. Natsu’s gut twisted at the thought and he frowned. 

“Yeah, what’s your point, stripper?”

Gray’s blue eyes gleamed in warning as he sneered, “Just make’ sure you don’t slip up this year. Last year was a close call and you know it.”

“Cheh!” Natsu scoffed, waving Gray off as he grabbed himself a  caramel apple to sink his teeth into. “I’ve known her since we were both kids, I ain’t FORGETTING that any time soon!”

How could he? When hiding the very extent of who he was had been second nature to him since they met? He bit back a sigh and the party resumed in far more sober chatter, all waiting for Levy to report back on Lucy’s health. Their get together wouldn’t last much longer. The party had been for Lucy, after all, they would see each other for the real deal in seven days.

.

All Hallow’s Eve and Halloween weren’t necessarily an important night for Natsu and his kind. Just as the full moon wasn’t. It was the perfect time for a family gathering, though. To be their true selves and not be questioned or deemed suspicious by the general public when walking among normal humans. There were many members of his ‘family’ that Natsu hadn’t seen in years. This week would change that.

This was why Natsu had been lying to his best friend since they were children. Can’t, going Trick-or-treatin’ with Igneel and Wendy! He said one year when younger, sad they couldn’t bring her along. (He found reasons to invite her to family get-togethers on other holidays to make up for it. Being an only child made for a lonely life, he  realized, and his own family were welcome to the idea.) When they grew older, those excuses evolved.. 

Gray gave me a cold, the bastard. Was one of them, though he only used that once. Going traveling for a job interview, had been another. Eventually, he used his job as the excuse. Didn’t give him the day off. Had to work extra hours. Others asked the night off before he remembered to do it. (His memory wasn’t always the best at times, unless for specific dates, so she believed him.)

This year Natsu used his job again. Though Lucy’s attempts at asking had been half-hearted at best. She was growing used to being turned down.  Somehow the revelation made Natsu feel worse, but he didn’t have a choice.  The rest of his pack would track him down if he broke and told the truth. So the lies fell off his tongue with ease and their Halloween Party was held a week before, just as usual. 

The truth of the matter was  harder to explain. As well as unbelievable to most.

This week was important. A tradition of sorts for Natsu’s clan. Though many traveled all year long, most came back to their hometown this time of year. Attendance was usually mandatory for those still in the City. Natsu had learned this at a very young age after countless attempts to spend his time with the little girl next door. In fact, most of his lessons ended in a smack to his nose like a puppy that had an accident on the carpet. 

Natsu wasn’t a puppy. Not anymore. 

“Think you might choose a partner to run with this year?” Macao, Natsu’s boss, broke through Natsu’s dazed thoughts like a sledgehammer. Natsu choked on his own spit as a tray full of hot tea dropped to the floor at the sudden question. “Hey! Come on- now I have to remake everything!” 

“Your fault, Macao!” Natsu snarled, hissing as hot liquid see[ed through his shoes. “You can't just say shit like that while I’m working!” Or distracted. Ah yes, he worked at what looked to be a small tea cafe,  but was a front to hide the many of his kind who currently slept in the upper loft.

Why was he being forced to be wait staff again? They knew he wasn’t the best at it. The older man, Macao, shrugged and restarted the tea.  With his own growl vibrating in his throat, his eyes glazed a dangerous yellow before shifting back to neutral brown. 

“I can’t believe you’re an adult and still tripping over the thought of finding yourself a companion.” Macao said, pointedly staring at the ground until Natsu began cleaning up his mess. “Seriously, I know it didn’t go so well for me, but there’s a lot of us who enjoy our time with our pack-mates. Just look at Wakaba!” “Oh yeah, great example.” Natse’s eyes rolled and he placed the now dirtied, slightly chipped, teacups onto his tray. He dumped them into the nearest sink and grimaced when splotches of dishwater splashed him. “The guy can’t keep his eyes off any girl with long legs. Why don’t you ask Gray about this kinda stuff? At least HE has someone interested in him!.” He paused and scrunched his nose,”… I think.”

It was hard to tell with that water Nymph down by the park since she so often flooded the lake when Gray was around. Could their kind even get with water Nymphs? Now that was a real head buster. Macao chuckled and set out a new tray for Natsu to serve - slipping a free drink coupon onto it for good measure.

“Already did. He knocked the trash can over. You’re both pretty hopeless at this point.”

Natsu didn’t have much to say to that and scowled.

Resuming work, Natsu brought more tea to what little customers frequented the establishment. He made an effort to avoid Macao - attempting to wipe their earlier conversation from memory- and busied himself with wiping down many of the tables.  Most didn’t need it. Natsu didn’t care. Anything to keep him away from his elder pack-mate’s attempts to talk ‘partners’ with him. 

Partners… or as many would call it: mates. It was a concept known to Natsu as it were foreign.  It was a strange idea, one that most avoided calling by a simpler term as it grouped them far too close to their animal counterparts. Their bodies weren’t normal, far from it. And their customs, lifespans, beyond human, but that didn’t mean they wanted to be considered bound by their instincts. Wolves, birds, even some fish, had mates. That was the way of life. His kind… as close to animals as they were, it was inaccurate. One they strayed far from, but even the term ‘partner’ set strangely in Natsu’s mind.

He didn’t want a partner. It was awkward, a strange topic and something too personal to discuss over a counter as he served tea to customers. In fact, he didn’t want to discuss it at all. Ever since he’d come of age, many of his pack members pushed him towards settling for someone - anyone - to join him on runs, to live his life with. To… Natsu blushed at the thought and scrubbed aggressively against a mark on one of the tables at the thought, to have kids. Screw that. He wasn’t interested. 

How could he be when the one person he wanted to see and be near hadn’t a clue who he actually was?  It was bad enough that he lied to her constantly, but why date when he was happy enough with his current life? It was a damn waste of time to discuss it!

Natsu’s thoughts grew agitated and it showed through his actions. The force used to scrub the table jarred his hand against the grain and his cleaning rag slipped to the floor. Cursing under his breath, Natsu snatched it up, but moved too fast to stand as his head smacked against the table above him. 

“Ah- fuck!” He yelped and grabbed the back of his head, rubbing his abused skull and sat down on the cold linoleum, “Stupid table.”

Lucy’s voice rang behind him, full of amusement. “You know that wouldn’t happen if you didn’t rush so much.” 

“Yeah well, maybe gravity shouldn’t be such a bit-,” Realization cut Natsu’s words short as he bent backward to behind him, eyes wide. “- Lucy?! What are you doing he-,” he lost his balance and flopped against the floor, barely avoiding another collision with his skull, “D-damn!”

Peels of laughter slipped between her fingers as she leaned over to examine him. “Dork. “ She stated as her foot lightly nudged his shoulder, “You need to be more careful! You’ve got to protect what brain cells you have left, Natsu!”

“Oi! That’s mean!” Natsu groused from the floor, grin lopsided. He didn’t bother to move, far too distracted by her pony-tail hanging down between them like a sort of rope. What would happen if he tugged it? Probably best not to test it, at least, not yet. He filed it away in his mind to experiment with later.  “What are you doin’ here, anyway? I thought you’d be nursing a hangover still.”

“I wasn’t THAT drunk.” Lucy simpered, lips pursing together as she nudged him again. “Besides, you drank just as much as I did last night!” Natsu didn’t disagree with the assessment, but his answering grin growing wider made her pout. “Ugh, I can’t believe you have such a high tolerance but can’t even drink Cana under the table. Get up already, you’re going to get your hair dirty!”

Natsu chuckled, his voice lowering to a husky baritone. She was right, beating their friend Cana in a drinking match was near impossible, but he didn’t bother correcting Lucy. Cana often slurred her speech and wobbled after a couple of drinks, but never from being drunk. Oh no, she just liked to act it. Another lie hidden between them, but he shoved the thought away and sat up.  “Nothing a good shower won’t fix.”

“Uh huh,” Lucy mono-toned. She stepped back to examine the room, brows furrowing in thought.  There was a question on her lips, Natsu could tell. She didn’t always come to visit him while working. Though he’d often invited her to, Lucy always claimed it was unprofessional to have visitors while on the clock.  Why come then? There had to be a reason.

Getting to his feet, Natsu examined his friend closer as she distractedly looked away from him. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth, cheeks slightly flushed and her brown eyes twinkled in uncertainty. It was a cute look. A compliment he’d keep to himself. Whatever was on her mind, it was obvious Lucy hadn’t considered how she’d breach the subject. She was easy to read. Sometimes too easy. 

Natsu’s grin grew salacious as he flipped the wash rag over his shoulder, “Do you wanna join me?”

That brought her attention back as she whirled to face him, nose scrunched in confusion, “Huh? Join what?”

Oh, this was too perfect. Natsu snickered. “To shower, duh!” He swiped his tongue along his teeth for added effect, biting back a howl of laughter when Lucy balked. 

Sputtering, her face grew three shades redder and she slapped his shoulder. Albeit with a little more force than necessary, but Natsu could take it. “Don’t be a pervert!  You’re still on the clock, anyway!”

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “So if I wasn’t on the clock you would consider it?”

“Wha-,” Lucy’s words died in her throat for two seconds before she smacked his shoulder again. “Natsu! That’s not what I meant!” He couldn’t hold it in anymore as loud, boisterous laughter exploded from him and echoed through the shop. Lucy’s face could have lit ten candles. “You’re such a jerk!” 

She stomped off towards the order counter as Natsu’s laughter continued. Following after, he giggled through pursed lips, “I didn’t hear a no…” He drawled, enjoying the sight of Lucy’s blush now growing to tint the tips of her ears. 

She was just so easy to tease. When she didn’t respond to the jab, he watched quizzically as she dinged the counter bell to signal Macao to come out from the small kitchen. “Oi, what are you doing?”

Lucy sniffed disdainfully, trying to regain her composure as she crossed her arms. “I’m going to do what I came here for. Though, with your attitude, I’m wondering if you deserve it or not.”

“Huh? Deserve what?” Natsu asked, confused. Lucy didn’t bother answering, choosing to ring the bell a couple more times. A minute later, Macao revealed himself, slightly annoyed from the bell, but his face dropped to a lazy smile when he sighted Lucy. 

“Well ain’t this a rare sight.” He greeted her. “Are you here for tea or did Natsu forget a date again?”

Both Natsu and Lucy flushed and sputtered, “We’re just friends!!” In unison, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart stuttered at the idea.  Macao chuckled and grabbed a to-go cup, filling it with tea. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” He waved them off as he worked, “But seriously, what’s up, Lucy?”

She grew silent, casting her gaze between the taller, dark haired man across the counter and back to Natsu who bristled at the conversation. Why was dating the only thinking that came out of Macao’s mouth lately? He averted his gaze and grunted, body growing more tense by the second. 

“Natsu’s turned me down for Halloween: big surprise.” She said after a time, not noticing the way her words caused Macao and Natsu to glance sheepishly towards the other. “Which, I guess I should be used to by now, but he said it’s because he has to work. So I wanted to see if-”

Macao interjected, voice low and sympathetic, “Look, Lucy, if you’re trying to get Natsu off for the night, it’s not something I can do so easi-”

“- IF,” Lucy continued, eyes narrowing, “He could get off early today so we can hang out. It’s not too busy, is it?”

Both men blinked at the question, but their reactions changed drastically in seconds. Macao’s lackadaisical attitude returned as he cast Natsu an amused grin while Natsu awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Lucy hadn’t done this before, he wasn’t sure how to read it.  Making a show of considering her question, Macao hemmed and hawed as he finished the to-go order he was making. Sliding the cup into Lucy’s hand, he took a glance around the room and winked. “He’ll be off in two hours. Sound fair?” It was Natsu’s turn to balk, jaw dropped as he stared at his elder pack-mate. 

“What? Seriously?!” He’d never been given time off so easily before. All it took was Lucy asking for it? A low growled formed in his throat, “Look, old man, just cause Lucy’s got a pretty face doesn’t mean you should be giving in like that, she ain't interested!”

“How do you know?” Macao teased as he winked, “Or is this you actually WANTING to work busing tables for the next eight hours? Didn’t know you had it in you, Natsu.”

Natsu squawked and tossed his wash rag at the man. “Heck nah, you want me gone, I’ll slide out the doors without a second glance!” 

“Pfft, give it a rest. Both of you.” Lucy said, grabbing her to-go cup with excited eyes. “Is this Chai Latte? How much do I owe?”

“It’s free this time.” Macao said, turning his attention back to her. “Call it an incentive to come here and bug Natsu more often. I could use the entertainment.”

Giggling, Lucy thanked Macao and turned her attention back to Natsu. “Then it’s settled.  Meet me when you’re off. Got that?”

“Uh, sure,” Natsu agreed, still confused at the process of events. Macao was giving him a strange look behind her back. One that spoke of teasing and a serious discussion that was soon to come the moment Lucy waltzed out the door, “but where are we meeting up?”

Lucy’s smile blasted Natsu with a warmth in his chest that made his stomach turn over. “Call me and find out.. So don’t forget!”  Taking a sip of the hot tea, she grimaced as it slightly burned her tongue and quickly rushed to the doors. As it chimed her departure, she waved to Natsu and Macao both through the window before disappearing down the street. 

Natsu sighed, “She’s so weird.” He muttered. Turning to face Macao, he winced at the sudden glare he was faced with. “What?”

“I know I tease you both a lot,” Macao said, voice lowering. He looked around the shop, as if checking for anyone eavesdropping. Satisfied that none of their customers were coming into earshot, he leaned across the counter to fix Natsu with his eyes, bleeding to yellow. “I just hope it doesn’t make you think you can do anything with her.”

It was like a bucket of ice water dropping over his head, dashing through Natsu’s good mood like a sickness. Abashed, Natsu growled and bared his teeth, revealing a hint of fangs.  As if sensing the mine he’d stepped on, Macao raised a hand and stepped away. “Sorry,” He muttered, “Just had to make sure.” “By telling me shit I’ve had jammed into my head since I was a kid?” Natsu snapped, his hand struck against the counter, “I’ve known that for years, genius!” 

The silence that answered him only fueled his rage and he turned away. Stomping towards the waste-bins, Natsu began pulling out trash bags with exaggerated, rough movements. Macao didn’t question him as he went from one to the next, dragging three trash bags out the employee exit with him. He needed air. 

It was always something related to dating with Macao. Something that grew on Natsu’s nerves the older he got. Was it from lack of interest? Possibly, but it grew deeper than that. A frustration he felt boiling under his skin since he was a child. Back then, Natsu never had a name for it, but he understood the implications of his own feelings now. Hopelessness. 

They’d met by happenstance. Two neighbors who just happened to lose their toys in the wooded area by their houses on the same day. Shy at first meeting, Natsu and Lucy had slowly clicked and began to play together, but while their friendship grew, Natsu’s dilemma did as well. It was hard, at first hiding who and what he truly was. As a kid, it’s so much easier to spew out claims of running on four legs and not being human. Anyone could chalk it up as a kid playing pretend. And Lucy had, opting to play right along with him, though her attempts were laughable at best. He couldn’t tell her that he was telling the truth. The day he tried, he’d been reprimanded by his adopted family for so long, he thought he’d never hear the end of it. Natsu would never forget the revelation he had that day. 

That he and Lucy would always have a wall of secrecy and lies between them. While she aged, believing her best friend to always be there for her, they were in separate worlds that he wasn't allowed to cross. What then, could he do, when those feelings grew to something more? Shove it down and smile as if nothing were wrong.  That’s what he did. 

Natsu had done it for years. He didn’t need Macao slapping it into his face while also pushing him towards finding a partner. There was no need. He already HAD a partner. The person he always wanted to stay beside no matter what. Grunting as he tossed the trash into the nearby dumpsters, Natsu’s nose crinkled from the smell and he sighed.  He didn’t want to go inside. Not yet, but he didn’t want to think either. 

“Damnit,” He cursed, leaning against the building wall to steady himself. “Stupid Macao.” 

Shifters couldn’t date humans.  It was common knowledge among his kind. An agreement and a law that held in his family and community like a vice grip. Lucy came and went through his life like the moon. 

And like a wolf from a movie, he chased after; knowing he’d never be able to reach it. 

[frenchbreads-writing]

Could I request something for Shinsou who is accepted in the the hero course with a bf who is still in the general course of UA? How would they handle the drastic change of Hitoshi changing courses? (or just any Shinsou insert tbh of this isn't anything you're really feeling atm) ❤️ love your writings

Day of Surprises|{Shinsou Hitoshi}

I tried going for the first idea but all of my ideas came out so sad for some reason😔

So I hope this is okay and that you don’t mind🥺

Also

479 FOLLOWERS.. ALMOST 500!? I didn’t even notice I want to thank you all I’m so glad you like what I write!! I love you guys so much and I hope you’ll stick around to watch me improve and keep making content for you all!💖💖

I hope you enjoy💖

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x Male Reader

Words: 1.7k (1,753)

Warning(s): Injuries, Badly written villain encounter

Requests: Closed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stared at the ticking clock from behind the convenience store counter.

2 hours to go until your shift is over.

You covered your face and groaned. The store had been practically empty all day with only a handful of other teenagers popping in for a minute for snacks and other various things.

“(Y/N)?”

You jumped and turn around.

It was the store’s owner standing there. A short woman in her 40s with a permanent soft smile on her face.

“What’s got you so antsy today? You seem like you’re ready to bolt.”

You smiled.

“I have my first date with my boyfriend today after work.”

She smiled fondly.

“A first date is very important.”

You blushed and looked away.

“Yeah, I want to make it nice for him since it’s his first date too.”

The manager glanced at the clock and hummed.

“Well, the shop has been rather quiet today.”

She turned to you and smiled.

“I do suppose I can run the store myself until your coworker gets here.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you faced her.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded and smiled.

“You’re a nice young man and you really help me a lot around here so I don’t mind letting you off early.”

You beamed before rushing to grab your stuff and clock out.

“I owe you one!”

You shouted as you rushed out.

As you jogged your way through the train station you pulled out your phone and proceeded to call Hitoshi.

The phone rang for a moment before you hear your boyfriend’s groggy voice answer the phone.

“Good morning Toshi how was your nap?”

You hear shifting and a groan before he speaks.

“It was good, are you on break?”

You pass through the ticket gates and walk to your platform.

“Yeah, the shop’s pretty crazy today for some reason.”

He hummed.

“Where are we going today?”

“I was hoping we could go to the mall and maybe to that new cafe that opened there a few weeks ago.”

“Sounds good to me.”

A yawn sounds from the other side.

“Toshi if you want to go back to sleep you can, I have to get back soon anyway.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you when you get here, bye.”

“Bye.”

The line clicked and you rushed into the train and await your destination.

When the train stopped you hopped out and headed home to change.

Unlocking and pushing your way inside the door you slipped off your shoes and made your way to your room.

You immediately went to your closet and began to brainstorm on what to wear. It was a casual date to the mall so nothing too fancy. Though everything you put together didn’t seem to be good enough.

Hitoshi had the same issue.

When you had called he wasn’t in bed at all. He was actually getting ready for the date.

He was rooting around his closet for what seemed to be forever. All of his outfits didn’t feel right for a date.

It’s been over an hour after your phone call and he wanted to surprise you at work but he couldn’t choose what to wear.

After picking up what felt to be the millionth article of clothing he thought.

’Screw it.’

And changed into the set of clothes he held in his hands.

He wore a plain black shirt with a purple jacket over it and a pair of ripped jeans.

It wasn’t the worst outfit he could’ve chosen so he’ll take that as a win.

He checked his phone.

’45 minutes left, enough time to get to his store before he gets off.’

Hitoshi quickly stuffed his keys and wallet into his pockets as he made his way to the front door.

Shouting a goodbye to his parents he opened the door. But he immediately froze when he caught sight of you frozen mid knock.

“Uh hey.”

“(Y/N) I thought you were at work?”

You rubbed the back of your neck and chuckled.

“Yeah I was able to leave early and I wanted to surprise you so um, surprise?”

Hitoshi smiled.

“Do you need anything else before we go?”

He shook his head and held out his hand. You took it, your larger hand enveloping his and with that, the two of you began on your way to the mall.

The two of you hadn’t had lunch yet. So after arriving at the mall the two of you immediately went straight to the food court. The two of you each got a simple snack to eat while walking around.

You visited a few stores, goofing around buying cute things. Like a matching set of fluffy cat socks, you insisted that you bought so the two of you could match.

The two of you were sitting on a bench when Hitoshi saw merch of your favorite hero through the window of a shop. So he excused himself with the excuse of using the restroom and walked away towards the store.

You had already bought him so much stuff that he had taken an interest in so he needed to get you at least something no matter how small it was.

He had paid and grabbed the bag his gift was in when a scream came from behind him followed by the sound of the shop’s window being shattered and a loud crash.

Hitoshi spun on his heel and witnessed the cause of the destruction. A trash can was embedded into the wall opposite from the shattered window.

He ran outside and there was more chaos.

Objects floating and slamming into walls and stores, some people already injured and being carried away by other civilians.

He needed to find you and make sure you were okay.

He ran in the direction you were going last.

The villain was standing in the center of the chaos, objects of varying sizes around them being lifted and thrown.

Even with objects almost hitting him Hitoshi still cried out your name and continued looking around frantically for any sign of you.

He didn’t have to look for long when someone shouted.

“Oh god, what’s that kid doing?”

His head snapped where the person was pointing to see you charging towards the villain.

“(Y/N) what are you doing?!”

Hearing Hitoshi’s voice made you pause and look over at him.

But as you look to your boyfriend you didn’t notice the display case being hurled at you.

“Look out!”

You looked and only had enough time to put your arms up to cover your face.

The case shattered and sent you flying backward until you landed sprawled out on the ground.

“Shit!”

Shinsou immediately began running to you.

He needed to get you and get away from there and wait for the actual heroes to come.

You groaned as you sat up placing a hand on your head the air was also knocked out of you from your rough landing.

It hurt but if it wasn’t for your quirk it would’ve hurt more.

“(Y/N)!”

You looked to see Hitoshi running to you.

He was so focused on you that he didn’t notice the villain dragged a nearby truck from outside and begin aiming it at him.

You noticed though and used a nearby wall to brace yourself as you climbed to your feet.

“Hitoshi, watch out!”

He gasped and his foot snagged on a piece of the ground that had been jutting out.

He looked up to see the truck heading towards him.

His mind blanked all he could do was close his eyes and press himself against the cold surface of the wall behind him.

But the pain never came. Instead, the sound of crunching metal and cracking concrete next to his head was all he heard.

Hitoshi cracked his eyes open to meet your worried gaze. He looked over your shoulder and saw your hand buried in the bumper of the now destroyed truck sitting behind you.

“-Toshi? Hitoshi!”

He jumped and looked at you.

“W-what?”

“I asked if you’re okay, here.”

You wrenched your hands from the holes you made and dusted them off before offering a hand to him.

He stared at your hand for a moment before grabbing it.

You hoisted him up with ease but as soon as Hitoshi’s feet hit the ground he cried out and stumbled into you.

“What’s wrong?”

Hitoshi winced and lifted his right foot off of the ground.

“My ankle, it hurts.”

You knelt and rolled his pant leg up to reveal that his ankle was red and starting to swell.

He must’ve twisted it when he tripped. You thought for a moment before an idea popped into your head.

You stood up and hooked an arm under his knees and simply picked him up princess style.

He yelped and clung to your shirt.

“I’ve got you now, let’s get out of here the heroes should be coming soon.”

And just as you said that the pro hero Kamui woods showed up.

“See? Perfect timing.”

You took off towards the mall’s exit with Hitoshi in your arms.

A while after the mall incident and getting checked by a paramedic getting Hitoshi’s ankle wrapped the two of you sat on a train. Your arm around Hitoshi’s shoulders and his head resting against your chest.

“Hey Toshi, sorry our date was ruined. I wasn’t even able to get you a gift since I dropped our stuff back there.”

“It’s fine I had a good time, minus the whole villain attacking the mall part.”

You smiled at him and were about to resume resting your head on his when he jolted up.

“Wait, hold on I almost forgot.”

He shoved his hand in his pocket and rooted around for a moment before pulling out a crumpled receipt and something shiny.

“I uh got us matching keychains, I managed to swipe them before we left.”

You took the keychain from his hand. It was a charm of a small black cat. It was a little scuffed but other than that it was okay.

You chuckled and pulled out your set of keys hooking the keychain onto it.

“Perfect.”

He blushed and looked away rubbing the back of his neck.

He wordlessly placed himself back into your side and placed his head on your chest.

You hooked your arm around his shoulders and gently pulled him closer.

Your first date will always be a rather memorable moment in your relationship. But now you can schedule even better dates. Ones without villains.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Tag List}

@your-strangelove @yumeneji

(If you want to be added, just comment on this post or send an ask and I’ll be sure to tag you in future posts. And if you don’t want to be tagged anymore just ask to be taken off and I’ll do it asap.)

[shirtlesssammy]

3x14: Long-Distance Call

Guys! We have a special surprise next week!! (Hint: We finally get to recap the gay angel episodes again!) Until then, enjoy our last episode for season 3...

Then:

Sam’s saving his brother no matter what

Now:

On a stormy night, a man drinks alone, contemplating life. His phone rings. It’s Linda. Ben tells her he can’t. “My wife.” He hangs up the phone. It rings again. Linda pleads with him. She loves him. He hangs up again. The phone rings AGAIN. He slams it down repeatedly and tears it from the wall. IT RINGS AGAIN! Damn, Linda, you are persistent. To stop the ringing, Ben pulls out a gun and shoots himself. 

Dean tells Sam they have a case. Sam tells Dean that they’re on a case --his. Dean balks at that because they’ve got nothing. Bela’s gone, the Colt’s gone, and Dean would rather work a case they can solve than wallow in his imminent death. 

They head to Milan, Ohio. They head right to the dead guy’s house and interview his widow. She’s a little belligerent but tells them that there was blood everywhere (Oh, that’s why she’s belligerent), favorite scotch was out, and the phone was ripped from the wall. 

Sam asks to look at the crime scene. He goes through the caller ID. Dean asks about strange phone calls. She admits that a couple weeks prior she picked up on a call that Ben was on. It was static. No one was there. 

Research time!

Dean finds out that “Linda” was Ben’s high school sweetheart --and she died in a car accident. On top of that, she was cremated. On top on top of that, Sam discovered that the caller ID on the phone traces back to a phone number used a century ago! (I presume Sam did all that research while he stared out the window.) 

They head to the bowels of the phone company to find fly infested, porn addicted Stewie. I’m going to skip over all this but will laugh at the ad that said “Order now & receive a bone-us gift!” Sam asks Stewie to trace the old-time number. (Natasha: flames on the side of my face at this damn offensive porn franchise.)

Dean pulls out the threat level 5 on the guy and the guy finds some results. There’s different houses that all received a call from that number. 

Sam heads to investigate one house. He poses as a phone company employee. He asks about strange phone activity. The man that answers the phone says that they haven’t had any issues. Sam notices the daughter looking concerned in the background. 

She pops outside to call his bluff. She wants to know why he was asking about the phones. He gives her a little give and she admits that she’s been talking on the phone with her mom --who’s dead. 

Dean checks in with similar stories. Then he gets a call. It’s the static-y voice of John Winchester. 

Later at the motel, Sam wants to know more about Dean’s call. Dean gets all nervous boy about it possibly really being their dad, and what they should do about it. What should Dean say? Sam, ever the pragmatist, suggests, “hello.” It’s funny, but I guess not really because Dean walks out on his brother. 

Dean comes back with a reason why things are happening here. It’s the birthplace of Thomas Edison, and there’s a museum with Edison’s spirit phone. 

They take a tour but the phone doesn’t have any EMF. They’re stumped as to what’s happening. 

Later that night, while Sam slumbers, Dean stays awake to answer his phone. John calls again. He asks Dean how he could sell his soul. “I was looking after Sammy like you told me to.” (Boris screams into the void) John tells Dean that the demon that holds Dean’s contract is in Ohio. 

Meanwhile, the daughter from earlier is IMing a friend when she gets a message from her dead mom. The mom says she wants to see her. The girl is scared but her mom reassures her that she’s with her. Then the girl’s computer flickers out and in the reflection of the monitor, we see the girl and her mom. 

The next morning, Sam returns from interviewing Lanie, the haunted daughter, to find Dean obsessing over demon omens. He shares his intel with Sam. 

Dean’s pretty sure the demon who owns his contract is following him. I pull a Dean voice to say, “Why are you so obsessed with me?” only Dean’s actual line in the show is “My ass is too sweet to let out of sight.” God. This show. Sam tries to tell him that the demon-killing exorcism that John gave Dean over the phone might not be as advertised. Dean’s a believer, though. He’s got faith in John! (Just gonna take a li’l writing break to tear at my hair.) 

Sam heads back to watch over Lanie, but before he goes the Winchesters hold an emotional shouting match. Dean’s ready to stop the demon from coming after him once and for all and thinks that Sam’s reticence is just more head-butting with their (now dead) dad. Sam accuses Dean of having “blind faith” towards his father and I weep. Sam leaves with one request: that Dean stay put until he returns from seeing Lanie. So. That’s going to go well. 

Lanie explains to Sam what’s been going on - that her mom’s requests have extended beyond the normal grieving cemetery visit. We cut to a young kid playing in his room. His toy phone rings. “Hi, mommy!” he chirps. 

Cut to Dean “Single Man Tear” Winchester sitting dramatically by his phone. It rings. 

Lanie reveals to Sam that her mother’s ghost told her to kill herself. When Sam hears the ghost’s catchphrase, “come to me,” he realizes that they’re dealing with something else entirely. 

While Sam experiences revelation, Dean heads off alone following his dad’s orders. f r o w n y f a c e. He ends up in a quiet, suburban home.

Meanwhile, Lanie’s brother Simon (of the toy phone fame) has gone missing. Sam saves him just in time from getting pancaked by a truck. As soon as the kids are buttoned up back home, Sam calls Dean. He tells him that a crocatta is after the people of the town. It’s a scavenger that lures grieving people and eats their souls. It tends to dwell in filth. Dean recalls the flies at the phone company, so Sam heads out on a hunt. (Meanwhile, YES, Dean’s off having his own questionable adventures, setting demon traps in a nearby house.)

Sam calls Dean for backup before assaulting Stewie, the phone guy. “I know what you are and I know how to kill you,” Sam says to the terrified guy. Someone looms behind Sam with a baseball bat. It’s Clark, the manager! He takes out poor soft-headed Sammy. Unfortunately, Clark takes out Stewie too. 

They both wake up tied to chairs inside the building. Clark kills Stewie and then fangs out. He unhinges his jaw and sucks out Stewie’s soul. Yummy? Clark then lays his hands on the phone console...because it’s time to kill Dean!

Elsewhere, in a police locker room, a man’s phone rings. It’s his daughter. “I know who killed me, daddy,” she says. The girl’s voice tells him that her killer is at their house right now. 

Clark explains to Sam that spoofing John Winchester was incredibly easy. All he had to do was find their phone numbers, then John’s old numbers. That let him listen to voicemails, read emails, and easily find the weak links that led him to target Dean. Oof. (Side note: a crocatta would make a seriously amazing private detective in an alternate Supernatural where monsters have better meal restraint.) 

Dean stands ready at the suburban house - ready to kill a demon. The grieving officer heads home, ready to kill his daughter’s murderer. 

Dean’s jug of holy water is met with an angry father with a shotgun, so things start out really well. They quickly devolve into a dirty fist fight. 

Meanwhile, the crocatta continues to villain-monologue at Sam.

Technology, Clark says, makes it so much easier to target people. They’re connected - yet isolated and easier to pick off. (I scoff at this overdone oversimplification of the role of “technology” in society. I hate when people try to pretend the past was trouble-free.) Sam finds his argument weak as well, and punctuates that by breaking free of his bonds and attacking Clark. 

At the house, Dean disarms the grieving cop and reveals the demon trap below the carpet. He starts reading out the exorcism. To his horror, the guy walks right out of the demon trap. When the guy accuses him of killing his daughter, the pieces click for Dean.

Sam kills Clark by jabbing his head into a retail hook suspended off the wall. OH I SEE, this show has always been obsessed with death by hook. >:| 

Dean and the officer avoid killing each other. Instead, they despair in beaten silence together, before we cut to Dean holding a compress to his forehead back at the motel.

Sam and Dean go over the case back in the motel, but talk quickly switches to EMOTIONS. Sam apologizes to Dean. Dean admits he was wrong. “I wanted to believe so badly,” he says. STORY OF HIS LIFE DAMN IT. He admits that he’s terrified of dying. Terrified of Hell. 

Sam gives him sad puppy eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with having hope.”

“Hope doesn’t get you jack squat,” Dean tells him.

For Sad Boys with Poor Coping Mechanisms Science:

Call Me By Your Quote:

I just talked to an 84 year old grandmother who's having phone sex with her husband, who died in Korea! It redefined my understanding of the word 'Necrophilia'

That’s what happens when you mess with the phone company, dillweed

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[knowltonsrangers]

Alphabet: Lafayette

[a/n: Here’s Laf!! For the lovely @thefanficnerd ❤️Hope u enjoy! ❤️]

Marquis de Lafayette x reader

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Anytime, any place, anywhere. Between tucking loose hairs back behind your ears, to looping your fingers together in a tight hold, the answer to affection is always yes. Laf shows affection in his own ways, and it’s these little things that send you into a flurry.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Oh, literally the sweetest guy! He’s a good friend, because he’s an excellent listener and is brimming with amazing advice. He’d always give you a choice, and never turn his back. If something were to occur with your friendship, he wouldn’t get mad and blow you off. He’d like to talk it out and make amends, if plausible. Text him at 3 am? He’ll answer moments later. He’d be there every step of the way, no matter what!

The friendship could start literally anywhere. Laf is a little less shy then Baker, so he’d spark a conversation just based on the shirt you’re wearing. Sitting next to him in a long lecture hall is always entertaining, because passing notes or working on assignments together is almost a given.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

OH BOY YES. Switches between big & little spoon, but I’d say he’s 75% of the time big spoon in cuddling. Just cause he’s always wanting to show how much he loves you, and when he’s got you in front of him, it takes so much willpower to not kiss you silly. He cuddles in bed, and snuggles on the couch.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Oh yes! Yes to settling down, for sure! It’ll only take a couple months of dating to see how much of his heart he gives to you, so moving in together is a given if you are down for that!

About cooking & cleaning, man he is absolutely the best roommate on those types of things. While you both have designated chores and such when it comes to cleaning, cooking is where it becomes fun. Time in the kitchen is best spent, because of the shared meals and laughs. Getting to make dinner together is almost as fun as eating it together!

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I hate to say it, but Laf is pretty loyal to a fault. He’s extremely trusting and maybe that goes over his head sometimes. If he had to break up with you for a reason, I’d take him some time alone to really think it over. It would most likely be an argument that would ignite the fire, but maybe a build up of things start the sparks.

Breaking up would be absolutely in person, and it would be calmly stated. No fighting, because his hearts already shattered.

(this made me so sad to type ffffs)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment is 100%! When you got him, he’s yours. He wouldn’t jump down your throat about marriage, but it would come up naturally. Because it only takes him a short time to know that your his soulmate, and whenever you’re ready, he’ll wait until then!

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

GENTLE is like the word I use the most to describe Laf! (especially TURN! Laf) regarding physically, his touches are feather light and full of emotions. Emotionally, I’d say he has a better guard up than most. Similar to Baker, it’d take a low blow to see him get upset or angry. He’s careful with his feelings, but he’s very open with you about them.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

If y’all ain’t holding hands, y’all are hugging. Laf loves to slide his arms around your shoulders and squeeze you silly. He loves to mumble how much he loves you in your ear, and press kisses all along your temple. 🥺

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I’d say after six months, give or take. If one of you were to go away for a while, he’d probably say it then, because half his heart is missing when you’re not around. He’d either say it in a moment of confidence, or a moment of vulnerability. If you say it first, all his doubts vanish and he’ll reply energetically the same!

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

35%? That’s a bit much, and I don’t see him as a jealous boyfriend type! it’s not so much that he’s insecure, but it’s that he enjoys and cherishes his memories with you. If someone else were to wedge in and divide your relationship in half, he’d be jealous of the less and less time spent together.

And on what he’d do? He’d talk to you about it. Pull you aside about it one night. He’s eager and willing to find a solution!

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

ANGELIC. No cap! Soft and fluttery and warm. He loves to kiss you on the corners of your mouth, but kisses are never scarce just at the tops of your cheekbones. Kissing away any sad day tears :,)

He loves to be kissed on the underside of his jaw, but he melts when you peck him on the lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

BEST. Dad mode? Activated. He’ll sit himself right on the ground, no matter where, and carry on a conversation with a child for as long as they’d like. If you have family that is younger or an infant, he’s all over them at gatherings and such. His voice is so caring and soft, and his accent floats along with his words in such a calming tone.

Babies fall asleep in his arms INSTANTLY

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

smooching over coffee or tea. Just kidding! Well, kinda. Good Morning kisses are a must, and while it’s very difficult to get out of bed, y’all drag each other out. Monday’s it’s Laf, Friday’s it’s usually you. By the end of the week, you’re wiped out, and Laf is just a bundle of energy.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

MOVIE DATES AND DINNER DATES AND WALKS IN THE PARK AND HAND HOLDING AND FEEDING DUCKS. Could all be in one night or just several different dates. It doesn’t matter, Laf just enjoys doing the simplest things with you!

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Rather slowly, I’d say? It’s just by his nature to want to hear the most he can about you, because he’s throughly interested. He just wants to know your favorite color, food, season.. literally everything! And don’t be discouraged that he’s not sharing his favorites with you, just ask :) He actually doesn’t even realize that he’s withholding information. There is no keeping secrets with him!

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It takes a lot, and I mean a LOT to get Laf angry. He is so usually calm and collected, that seeing him in an angered frenzy is kinda shocking. If you catch him on a bad day, be careful to note that it’s most likely not his intention to direct any anger at you. If he catches himself being cross with you, expect a dozen apologies and kisses later.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He doesn’t have a photographic memory, but it’s pretty damn close! Birthdays, anniversaries, and important dates are always on his calendar!

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

when you said you loved him back 🥺 he’d be, for lack of a better term,,, apprehensive of your response? If you say you do in fact, love him? His heart leaps in his chest and he all but jumps for joy. He’s opening his heart to you, and he’d remember that moment forever.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

BIG MAYBE. He’s not overprotective-but if some guy or gal was getting up in your business, unwanted attention of course, he’d throw an arm around your shoulder and assert his relationship to you very clearly.

Him, on the other hand, will wave you off and say that he’s fine to handle himself in these situations, because he never wants to see you get hurt. But, by all means, glue yourself to his side and shoo the other person away. A sad Laf is a sad y/n.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

10,000%. See’s a daisy outside Washington’s HQ and brings it back home to you. Because it “reminded him of you”

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Leaves coffee mugs out until they stain the bottom with brown rings.

Hm. Also known to vacuum at odd hours.

OH and the only other thing he’s guilty of is sometimes forgetting to kiss you exactly every possible moment of the day.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s effortlessly extremely attractive. He’s about as concerned as a mouse.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

THE PHATEST YES IN ALL THE UNIVERSE

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Laf has a U.S. quarter collection. Don’t @ me.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He’s not a fan of a messy house. While he is so guilty of leaving small things about, he’d never scold you for leaving your keys on the floor because they just missed the hook. But he can’t live in a mess. His desk is always tidy and beaming with professionalism.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Sleeps 8 hours a day! Snoozes with you are always a 10 on his scale. He’s always ready to fall into a nap with you, suffocating you into a hug to cuddle. Laf snores, just a bit. Not loud enough to wake you!

[tag list!: @shieldblacksailsonfrontier  @thefanficnerd  @simvez  @viper-official  @the-anxious-youth @boredthreatrekid ]

[leejeongz]

PETTY

genre: fluff w a tiny bit of angst, enemies to lovers

member: treasure’s jihoon

word count: 2.3k

never in your life had you realised how much you hated biology until you had to study the carbon cycle, which is pretty ironic considering you cared so much about the environment. you could tell your classmates felt the same way too, most of them were doodling or whispering or just generally looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.

“i’m not sure you’re all getting this” your teacher realised, giving up on her powerpoint and going to sit down “how about you tell me what the carbon cycle is. this can go towards your grade, this can be your presentation!” she got more excited with every word coming out of her mouth “present to me the carbon cycle! this time next week, dress nice, it's going to be recorded. okay, you can leave early for today, gives you more time to work on the presentation” she smiled sarcastically, dismissing you all.

dumping all of your stuff into your backpack, you sighed rather loudly. you teacher looked over towards you, the teacher you could have murdered right now. “i hope i get to hear that volume from you during your presentation y/n” she joked. she was a nice lady, well she was usually nice to you, you had a similar sense of humour, but she could be lazy at times, maybe it was because she’d already got her qualifications, as she kept reminding you all.

“hurry up” you looked up to see your seatmate haruto had waited for you and was planning on walking home with you.

both of you were pretty puzzled by the task since your teacher had told you nothing and so you decided to sit in the library until the end of the school day, trying to figure out what was going on, rather than going home and winging it.

“i mean, i think i get it now” he announced, looking up from his book which he secretly had hidden his phone in “i’d help you but i don’t want our presentations to be so similar that mrs ‘i’m too lazy to teach you anything so do it yourself’ thinks we copied from each other”

you gave him a dirty look, knowing he was joking. “well then maybe i will no longer be your seatmate, no more cute stationery for you, unlucky pal”.

“now now, don’t be too hasty” he said while packing his things up once again “my friend said he can help you”.

Haruto had been obsessed with setting you up these days, ever since you told him you were ready for a relationship, he’d been trying to make one happen. now was the perfect opportunity to hook you up with yet another one of his friends, it was an unlikely relationship, he thought, but who knows.

“who? which boy is it this time? do you even have any friends left?” you asked.

“his name is jihoon, he got an A* for biology so i think he’s qualified enough to teach you.” he presented to you his phone with a picture of him on it.

you knew exactly who he was talking about. park jihoon. the name sent shivers down your spine. he was the head boy at your school when you first moved there. you had such bad memories of him. he once “accidentally” spilled water all over your work in the library, he always told you off for your uniform being “a mess” even though it was always immaculate, you saw him litter on numerous occasions and to make things worse, he tried to a rumour that your old school had lice and that you’d probably brought them with you. luckily not many people believed him, a lot of people shared the same opinion as you: there was just no way he was a nice guy.

“yeah, i don’t think it’s gonna happen” you scratched the back of your head “people whose name start with j… i’ve been warned about them”

“literally shut up that’s the most pathetic excuse i've ever heard. i’ve just sent you his address and he’s already agreed”

you couldn’t really not go now… you weren’t a bad person like jihoon was so you didn’t want to let anyone down. you put on your school hoodie and some leggings in a rush to get to jihoon’s house on time, it was the other side of the city and you didn’t want to be late, especially considering how bad the bus service was.

when you arrived, you suddenly remembered how attractive this boy was and it made you even more unwilling to knock on his door, how could someone so mean be blessed with such a nice face? before you even had the chance to consider knocking, a smiling young boy answered the door.

“hi! i’m-“ he stopped, making eye contact with you for the first time. he stood tall in what you presumed was a new sweatshirt and jeans, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. “you? you want my help? is this some kind of joke?” he scoffed “i guess you can come in” he shut the door behind you while whispering “the audacity” under his breath.

you sat on his scratch free leather sofa, it was brown and matched perfectly with the freshly decorated living room, you gathered he’d just moved there, probably his first house. you thought it was funny how his cute hello kitty socks really juxtaposed the whole vibe of the house, a small smile forming on your face. you were so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t even realise he’d asked you a question.

“did i say you could sit down?” he asked sternly. you never really knew what you did wrong to him, you just kind of… accepted it.

“right yes sorry” you stood up and awkwardly adjusted the hem hoodie. “uhh so it’s on the carbon cycle and i have no clue-“

“i know what it’s on you idiot, i wasn't gonna agree if i didn’t, was i?” he interrupted “well are you gonna sit down then?” he asked only to receive an eye roll from you as you sat down again.

you placed your bag next to you and pulled out your laptop. positioning it on his coffee table, you failed to notice jihoon had already left the room.

“what’s that?” he asked, placing two glasses of juice on the table “is it from the 90s?” he asked, following it up with an extremely condescending laugh.

you looked up at him, the heat radiating off your face resulting from a mixture of anger and sadness. “what did i do? why have you hated me since day one huh?” you finally snapped, it’s a shame jihoon barely heard you though.

“i’m gonna presume you asked why i hate you and the answer is” he cleared his throat “your old school”.

your face had definitely cooled down by this point “my old school?” you laughed.

“as head boy it was pretty much my job to hate any other school and the students there, just a shame you were one i guess” he confessed, his stern face softened as he spoke. “it was petty really, but petty is my middle name so what can i say?”

“i can tell” you responded, eyes narrowing as a sarcastic smile formed on your face. “shall we get to work now?” you asked, not wanting to waste any more time with him because somehow it made it even worse that the reason he hated you was just your old school.

“oh did he not tell you?” you looked at him puzzled and shook your head. “tonight we were just supposed to get acquainted because i don’t have much time, i’m going out later and i want to look fresh for the ladies.” he pulled twice on his sweatshirt, that typical cliche “cool guy” action just suited him for some reason. “so we have like 3 hours that’s all.”

“what, 3 hours won’t be enough to complete this?” you could have cried thinking about it, throwing your head back when you saw that jihoon had shook his head. “i’m gonna have to come over again aren’t i?” you asked, dreading the answer you already knew you were going to receive.

“fraid so” he responded.

it took some time, but you finally came around to the idea, not that you had a choice, you couldn’t do this without him. you reached into your bag once again, this time pulling out your metal straw and placing it into the orange beverage on the table.

“ooo fancy” jihoon cooed, eyes following your hands. “let me get mine” he got up, dashing to the kitchen and returning with his pink, silicone straw. “save he turtles, am i right?” you naturally laughed along with him which you soon stopped when you realised you were joking? with park jihoon?

throughout the next half an hour there were countless incidents which were similar, only you’d begun to let yourself laugh. were you maybe finally starting to like this boy too? this is the closest you’d ever felt to liking one of haruto’s friends, it just felt weird that it had to be him.

as if on queue, you received a phone call from haruto. you answered sheepishly, not wanting to distract jihoon who was now intensely staring at his phone as if he was waiting for an important message. “hey ruto, can you text me instead?” you requested. before he could answer, you put the phone down. a few seconds later your phone chimed.

ruto 🍩: how is it going? made any moves yet? i mean done any work yet? ;)

you tutted as you read the message which caught jihoons attention. “what is it?” he inquired, getting out of his chair and moving your bag. he sat down right next to you and peeked over your shoulder. the intimacy was nice, you didn’t like that it was nice, but it was.

“a little privacy please?” you moved your phone from his eye line and turned to face the other way.

you: i kind of like him ya know? it’s too early to tell. i mean i don’t hate him now i guess 🤷🏻‍♀️

swoosh, away your message went. had you really just told him that you liked someone you used to hate?

ruto 🍩: interesting… i’ll have a word with him.

a certain panic set in, but you couldn’t do anything about it when you heard a beeping noise coming from jihoon’s kitchen. you suspected it was a fire alarm, the way he abruptly got up and rushed in there.

“it’s ruined” he shouted, there was a hint of anger in his voice that seemed familiar. you hesitantly walked towards his kitchen and asked what he’d supposedly ruined. “nothing it’s nothing, just go back and start working, we can do it in 2 hours if you work fast. are you capable of that?”. the soft jihoon that you were just getting used to had suddenly disappeared, it felt like a kick in the stomach and you knew your presentation wasn’t gonna be great now.

for the next hour or so you worked tirelessly on the presentation, now making a poster instead of a powerpoint since what jihoon wanted to do, you HAD to do right now. there was undiable tension in the air, neither of you wanted to talk about it but it didn’t stop you from being curious. an occasional phone buzz broke the silence, but neither of you checked your notifications. not until you once again threw yourself back into his sofa, this time your head was in your hands. you understood nothing going on in your poster and the “help” you were getting was minimal.

jihoon grabbed his phone, not really sure on what to do when he saw you.

haruto: yes jihoon, they like you now make your move

haruto: bro… ur silence is concerning what’s going on there?

he gently placed his phone on the glass table, slightly moving the oversized poster, brushing your leg as it moved and catching your attention.

he stood up from the carpet and sat beside you.

“i’m sorry i flipped like that on you” he whispered while his hand made its way to your knee. “we can come back to it tomorrow” he glanced at you.

“wont you be hungover, or won’t you be trying to shoo away some one night stand? i know your type” you sniffled through tears. no one had seen you cry before but for some reason you didn’t feel embarrassed.

“well actually i’ve decided to not go out tonight. i have a netflix account that isn’t getting used and i was wondering” he started, shuffling closer to you “if you wanted to watch something with me? you know, just to take your mind off things” his eyes widened looking back at the disastrous poster in front of him.

“maybe” you thought for a while, remembering what haruto said he was gonna do and realising he’d probably done it “on one condition” you smirked.

“what is it?” he flirted, prepared to do anything for you. by now he’d somehow managed to wrap his arm around your shoulders too, just adding to the ambiance he’d created in 0.2 seconds.

“tell me what you ruined in the kitchen” you begged.

“it was-“ he paused for a second, wondering if he should tell you or just show you. he pulled his arm from around you and quickly went to get the tray from the kitchen. “i attempted to bake some cookies in the shape of clouds and the sea and cows, but as you can see they are definitely not medium rare, more well done i’d say. i was thinking we could have filmed a little video with them tomorrow or something when they were cool as your presentation. kinda glad they burnt, why would i want to waste such a good idea on you” he emphasised the “you” and faked heaved, a teasing tone evident in his voice.

“we could still ice them or paint them or something” you enthused.

“anything to spend more time with me, huh?” he teased further, foreshadowing the future of your relationship with each other.

🔅please let me know what you think about this! i’m not really confident posting it so any feedback would be much appreciated! i also just wanna say that the character i made up for jihoon does not reflect him as a person! i’m sure he’s not an evil person irl i just wrote this for entertainment🔅

[12yeahiminluvwu]

Do You Think JJ Would Still Wanna Go Out With Me?

pairing - Rafe Cameron x Cameron!Reader, Male OC x Cameron!Reader

summary-  Requested by anon! “omg i loved the thornton reader one aa😔 can i get one like that except it’s cameron reader and she breaks up w her bf (u can name him anything) and sarah and rafe comfort her”

word count- 970

warning(s)-  swearing, breaking up, brother/sister love (in the most platonic way- we don’t do incest in this house lmaoooo) 

So, I left Sarah out of this because I thought it would be more fun if it was just Rafe, but I hope you still like it! I’m sorry it took so long!!!

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

“I’m so fucking done with your bullshit!” You yelled at Tucker, your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. Your hand, reached for your hair, as if tugging on it would relieve some of the stress you were feeling right now. 

“Then fucking leave! Sarah’s always been the better twin anyway! I feel so bad for her for getting you as a sister!” He yelled back and your blood began to boil. 

“Oh, oh yeah. You know, you always go back to the same damn thing. “Sarah’s the better twin!” If she’s so much better then why did you even bother asking me out?” You began to pace around the room, waiting for him to respond to you. It was true. In every fight you’d ever had, he always brought up something about your twin sister being better than you. 

It was no secret that Sarah was the popular twin, but you had almost the exact same personality. Anyone that knew both of you, knew that. But for some reason, it always got to you when he brought it up. It made you feel inferior, like he was only with you to get closer to her. 

“Maybe I just felt bad for little old y/n. Wanted to give you a shot at the big leagues. Lord knows, no one else would have asked you out…” He said. Your heart dropped, your movement seized, all you could do was stand there and look at him. 

“Is that really what you think?” You whispered, suddenly feeling small. He nodded and you felt the tears well up in your eyes. The air around you felt thick and hard to breathe. It seemed as if your whole world had just been burned down. Yeah, you knew your boyfriend was an ass hole, and you were going to break up with him, but the worlds he was spitting at you were like daggers, piercing into your skin syllable by syllable. 

Lord knows, no one else would have asked you out…  raced through your mind, playing over and over again, almost until they lost all meaning, seeming to just be sounds, echoing in the distance. 

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then don’t bother bearing the burden of giving little old y/n a shot at the big leagues. Consider yourself off the fucking hook.” You said quietly. Tucker stood in front of you, not moving. Something inside of you broke at the sight of him standing motionless, causing you to move quickly towards him. You pushed him backward, out the door he was standing in front of and closer to his car. 

“Just fucking go!” You yelled, and he flinched away from you, running to the Jeep and getting in quickly. 

Your face burned hot with tears as you rushed up to your room, slamming the door behind you. You buried your face in a pillow, hoping to muffle the sobs that escaped through your lips. 

A few moments passed before a cold burst of air wafted through your room, signaling that someone had just opened your door. 

“Hey kiddo… you good?” You heard from behind you. It was Rafe, your brother. 

“Do I look good?” You shot back, not lifting your face from the pillow. He sighed, walked closer to you. You and your brother had always had a strange relationship. You never liked the way he treated the pogues, or how he did drugs, but he always stuck up for you when you needed him. Over the years, you’d bonded over not being the favorite child, that still didn’t excuse his behavior. 

The bed sunk down beside you, and a hand lightly found its way on to your shoulder. You shifted so that you could lay on him, like you always did when one of you was sad. It was a coping mechanism you’d both fallen into as a way to make up for the affection you never got from your father. His breathing grounded you, keeping you from drifting off into an endless spiral of thoughts and emotions. 

“Everything he said was wrong… you know that right?” He finally said after a beat of silence. 

“Is he though? Is he wrong?”You choked out. Your throat ached from the crying and heavy breathing. Rafe held onto you a little tighter, he could feel your broken heart in the world you spoke. 

“You know, I never thought I would be the one to tell you this, but any guy would be lucky to have you… Do you remember last year when I got into that huge fight with JJ Maybank?” He asked you. You recalled the confrontation. It had been at a kegger they’d thrown at the boneyard. Everything was going fine and well, you’d been hanging with JJ most of the night as Sarah shamelessly flirted with John B despite still being with Topper, and you’d stepped away for less than five minutes before it happened. All hell broke loose. Your brother, high as a hot air balloon, was knocking JJ around and when all was said and done, the blond surfer boy was nowhere to be seen. He’d been avoiding you ever since the incident, and you never knew why. 

“It was because he was going to ask you out, but I knew that Tucker was going to make a move and I didn’t want you hanging out with that dirty pogue… I was wrong to interfere, and I’m sorry…” He confessed and you raised your eyebrows. 

“Next time I hear a girl say she wants to go out with you, maybe I’ll beat her ass just to get back at you…” He laughed at your words and ruffled your hair, knowing the mood was a little lighter. 

You laid with your brother, letting the silence engulf you. After a few moments, you spoke up, breaking the quiet streak. 

“Do you think JJ would still wanna go out with me?”