#and got her to recite the whole damn thing

[proxycollective]

Being a plural fanfic writer be like (part 2)

so we write fanfic right? and we got some friends (who do NOT know that we're plural) who are in the same fandom as us and also write fanfic so a lot of times we're writing the same characters at the same time

sometimes those friends or other commenters on our fics look at some of characters we write and go "wow! you captured their canon voice so perfectly! i dont know how you make their characterizations so perfect"

cue me sideglancing at the fictives we have of those characters

i dunno man- must just have a talent for it or something! totally not because we look at the fictives and ask "hey how would you/source you react to this" noooooo...

-dust

[emeraldserenade]

Heart Glasses ~ Robert "Bob" Floyd

synopsis: You meet your husband's new squadron one by one, all without them knowing who you truly were

tw: fem!reader, reader wears glasses, reader's mom's maiden name is Hearts, Bob's from Montana, suggestive, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

This was purely because I've been getting more strangers complimenting my heart shaped glasses

➽──────────────❥

Robert Floyd was a private person, everyone who meets him can attest to it. But, the one thing he could never keep quiet about, was his wife. The very same wife who the Dagger Squad had never met and had never seen a photo of.

"Are we even sure baby on board even has a wife?" Jake, stupidly, asked. The others ignored him, Bob wasn't one to lie and they've all seen the ring and heard the one sided phone calls.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

It was Natasha that met you first, you were in the same store as her and she had spotted your glasses from farther away.

"Hi, I just wanted to tell you that I love your glasses," Natasha said as she walked up, you smiled over at her.

"Oh, thank you! My husband got them for me because my mom's maiden name is Hearts," you told her. You noticed her uniform before speaking next, "Are you Navy?"

"I am," she told you, then recited her callsign. You smiled at her, told her that was a cooler call sign, and then you two said your goodbyes before leaving. As you walked away, you realized that had to be the Phoenix your husband was back seating for.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You met Bradley next, your dad was also an enjoyer of Hawaiian shirts and his birthday was coming up. You saw a man walking around the same store you were in holding the perfect one for your father.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but where did you find that shirt?" You questioned the taller stranger.

"Oh, back there," Bradley pointed behind him snd your eyes caught sight of the shirt.

"Thank you!" You told him, racing off with a muted goodbye.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Bradley and Natasha figured out their stranger interactions had been the same person at the Hard Deck a few days later.

"I ran into the woman who asked where I found this shirt at the mall the other day," Bradley told the group. "She had these heart glasses and it was like her whole face lit up when I told her," Bradley said, he was lamenting the fact that he never asked if she was single.

"Wait," Natasha cut in. "Did she have a black purse with a butterfly attachment and y/h/c hair?" Natasha questioned. y/h/c = your hair color

"Yeah, how did you know?" Bradley questioned, his face scrunched in confusion.

"That's the woman I complimented on her glasses! She's married, her husband got her glasses for her," Natasha told Bradley, her face twisting into disgust at his earlier words of wanting to take her out.

"Damn, that's one lucky man then," Bradley mused, everyone missing the small grin growing on Bob's face. He had figured you were the one they were talking about.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Mickey was the next to meet you, he had recognized your description from the others and wanted to double check you were you. You were just walking to your car from work.

"Hi, this may sound weird but did you ask a taller man with a mustache about a Hawaiian shirt and get complimented on your glasses by a woman whose call sign is Phoenix?" Mickey rushed out before you could run away from the odd question.

"Oh, yeah, why?" You had subtly taken a step back from him.

"I'm in their squadron! They will never believe that I met you," Mickey pumped his fist in the air and you relaxed.

"Oh, well, hello," you laughed gently, your smile easy. "What do they call you?"

"Fanboy, but my name's Mickey, ma'am," he offered his hand and you shook it.

"Nice to meet you Mickey," you offered your name before walking away, you got in the car and let yourself laugh even harder. These were definitely the people from your husband's squadron.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Jake was next, he hit on you before you even looked at him.

"What's a darling lady like you doing alone?" Jake slid into your space, you were grocery shopping for breakfast while Bob slept in a bit.

"Mu husband's asleep," you told him, turning to face him.

"Wait, no way, you're the infamous y/n?" He perked up and you realized what was happening.

"Are you another from the group of people from the same squadron that I keep running into?" You questioned, a humorous smile growing on your face.

"I am, the name's Hangman," he offered his hand and you shook it.

"Well, I have no idea how many more of you there are," you lied. "But tell the others I'm excited to run into them as well," you bit him farewell while leaving, missing Jake pulling his phone out to text the Dagger Squad group.

Bagman: You'll never guess who I ran into Phoenix: Heart glasses y/n? Bagman: At the grocery store Rooster: You hit on her, didn't you? Fanboy: He most definitely did Phoenix: Did she bring up her husband? Bagman: She did Payback: I was supposed to meet her next! Coyote: I call next time

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You met Ruben next, much to Javy's dismay. You were at the gym and Ruben couldn't find his earbud case.

"Hi, sorry," Ruben automatically apologized when you slightly jumped. "I didn't mean to scare you, it's just that I was using this machine earlier and I can't find my earbud case. Have you seen one around here by chance?"

"Oh, is it blue?" You questioned, your glasses slowly falling down your face. It brought them to Ruben's attention and you saw him get excited.

"Yeah, it is, you wouldn't happen to be y/n, would you?"

"I am, are you apart of that Navy squadron?" You grabbed the blue earbud case you had seen under the machine earlier and handed it to him.

"That I am," he affirmed and you gave him a small smile. "Thanks for this," he lifted the case up just enough for you to see it.

"You're welcome,' you paused, waiting for his name.

"Payback or Ruben, ma'am," he told you and you nodded once. You two went your separate ways and as you left for the locker room, you texted your husband.

My Girl ❤️: I ran into another one of your friends My Cowboy 🤠 ❤️: Who was it? My Girl ❤️: Payback, he was nice. Called me ma'am and only approached me because he lost his earbud case My Cowboy 🤠 ❤️: You've got one left to meet My Girl ❤️: I know, they act like they're all meeting me. I'm meeting them My Girl ❤️: Also I'm very sweaty and it will be your problem when I get home. I'm going to be all over you My Cowboy 🤠 ❤️: I can't wait

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The last to meet you was Javy, he saw you as you walked into the hangar. You were there to pick up Bob since you had to borrow his truck while your car was in the shop, and Javy recognized your description right away.

"Holy shit, you're y/n! I'm Coyote or Javy!" He practically shouted, causing many to look over at you. You were suddenly surrounded by the entire squadron, questions flying at you faster than you could process.

Your savior came in the form of your husband, as always. His hand wrapped around your wrist and gently pulled you to him, his hand slipping right to it's home on your waist. "Are you ok?" Bob lowly asked in your ear, you nodded with a bright smile on your face.

"Wait," Jake called out but his shock made him pause. "Your husband's baby on board?"

"Yeah, my husband's Bob," you told him, your eyes sharpening at the name Jake called him.

"How long have you known who we were?" Natasha asked.

"Since you, well, I didn't know who Bradley was until Bobby came home and told me. I'm sorry for never asking your name to properly thank you," you apologized to the man but he waved you off.

"I think that's ok, I did accidentally tell your husband how I was upset at myself for never asking you out," Bradley told you and you laughed at the feeling of Bob tightening his hold on you.

"He told me about that, while I appreciate two of you thinking I'm attractive, I am very happy in my marriage," you told them, it was enough to snap Jake out of his shock.

"How the hell did Bob bag you?" Jake exclaimed and you looked over at him again.

"He's got a huge," Bob cut you off with a tug away from the others.

"Ok, that's enough," your husband told you with ear tipped ears. You gave him a sweet smile as you heard the laughter from his squad. Bob led you away from them and out of the building and to the car. "You're going to pay for that," Bob told you as he started his truck, his hand landing on your thigh.

"I can't wait," you told him, your smile widening just a little bit more.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - I Saw You In The Water

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: You and Sam try something new to help Dean with the Mark of Cain. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: I'm trying to distract myself from life, so here. Have a miniseries!

Title from Cringe by Matt Maeson

Word Count: 3.7k

Read on A03! - Chapter 2

“This looks kind of stupid,” you mutter to Sam, and he makes a small nod of agreement, neither of you looking away from the scene before you. Rowena reciting a bunch of words that don’t sound real, and Dean sitting in a kiddie pool, scowling with his eyes screwed tight.

“It’s not just stupid,” Dean snaps your name, and you flush. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. “It’s pointless, and I am not getting adult baptized. You know what? screw this-“

He starts to stand, but Rowena pushes on his chest and sends him back into the water on his ass.

“No moving, or you’ll make me have to start over. And none of us,” Rowena looks Dean over with a dramatic shudder. “Want that.”

“Does it, um, does it have to be an inflatable pool, Rowena? Can’t we just put him in the shower?“

Rowena scoffs, dismissing Sam with a wave of her hand. “That is not how magic works, Samuel. We’re already making a gamble by hoping the spell counts this as a communal bath filled by the clean of soul, and a motel shower would be far worse.”

“Clean of soul-“

“That wee little bellhop.” Rowena gives you a sweet smile, a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach turn slightly. “Only dirty thoughts in his head were about you and your lovely breasts.”

“What.” Dean’s head shoots up, his scowl somehow more violent. “What do you mean, her breasts-“

“I mean her tits, you dimwitted boy.” Rowena gives you a disbelieving eye roll. “Men.”

“Who the fuck was looking at her tits-“

“The bellhop, Dearie, keep up-”

“Can you just do the spell, Rowena?” You cross your arms over your chest, half folding into yourself in a play to get the conversation off of your boobs. “Now?”

Rowena rolls her eyes, but nods and goes back to all her incoherent mumbo jumbo as Dean begins to look violent.

You bump Sam’s shoulder, standing slightly on your toes to whisper, “What if this doesn’t work?”

“It will.” Sam shakes his head, and his hair hits you slightly in the face. “Rowena’s the best in the game, and we’re only stretching a few of the ingredients. It’ll be fine.”

Neither of you believe that, but you’re also running out of options. You’ve lost all your leads on the Book of the Damned, and Dean can’t keep killing people. It’s killing him, and Sam, and you, and also the people. And this is, in a roundabout way, a solution. And Rowena says it will work, and you’re not stupid enough to trust her, but you’re also desperate enough to make a deal with her. She’ll do a spell to make Dean’s bloodlust refocus—make it more about things that make him happy, and less about murder—and you and Sam will stop trying to kill her for three whole months.

If it works, it’s a win for everyone. Rowena doesn’t get shot, you and Sam get Dean back, and Dean can maybe, hopefully, be happy again.

Rowena draws back up from Dean and walks over to you and Sam, extending her hand. “Hair.”

“What-“

“Hair, lass. The spell needs your hair.”

“Sam’s hair?” You frown. “Or my hair?”

“Preferably, both.”

You and Sam exchange a look of what the fuck, and Sam keeps his voice low—inaudible to Dean—as he mutters, “Why our hair?" Why not the, uh, the bellhop guy-“

“The bellhop is of no significance to Dean’s life. You two are the people he loves most in the world, so unless you want him to remain under the Mark’s corruption,” Rowena flexes her hand, her voice becoming stern. “Hair.”

Sam pulls out his hair quickly, but you’re a little slower. You’re not someone Dean loves. You’re someone Dean cares about, but you’re not Sam. You don’t belong on the spell’s weird ingredient list, you barely belong in this room. Watching Dean in such a strongly vulnerable position, making decisions about his life for him. He’d resisted this, you’d said please, and he’d caved almost immediately, but you mostly think he just didn’t want to argue. You've all been arguing a lot lately—Sam and Dean arguing about most everything, you and Sam arguing about next moves, and you and Dean arguing about you sticking around, near him, through this—and it’s getting exhausting.

But Rowena gives you an impatient look, and you pass your hair into her hand. If it doesn’t work, you can just start over and only use Sam’s hair. He has a lot of it to spare, he’ll be fine.

When the spell finishes, Sam and Rowena go outside to talk and you sit on the bed, watching Dean in silence. He’d insisted on wearing his clothing in the pool—jeans, boots, flannel and all—he’s cross-legged in the water, and he still hasn’t opened his eyes.

He still looks good. There’s an expression made of deep lines and tense frustration on his too-handsome face, and you want to touch him. You want to touch Deanwherever he’ll let you. Run soothing hands over his frown, find out of his grown-out scruff is soft or prickly, kiss his full, pink lips until he smiles, and drift down his body. Over his chest, his stomach, lower and lower until you’re wrapping your mouth around him, and he knows that you care. You really, really care about Dean, and he’s not a burden, and if this doesn’t work, you’re going to stay right at his side until you find something that does, because you like to think you’d look up at him under your lashes and he’d see that you love him, and throw his head back and groan, and maybe his hands—big and rough and so carefully skilled—would touch you-

“Be honest with me, Sweetheart.”

His low, deep voice pulls you out of your fantasy, and you blink at him with a flush that you pray he won’t notice. “What?”

“Be honest,” he repeats, and his eyes open right onto yours. He doesn’t look to be in pain anymore, he mostly looks tired, so you nod.

“Yeah, okay. What-“

“This is dumb.”

You huff a soft, dry laugh. “It’s a little ridiculous. But it will work, Dean.”

“No spell that I know of calls for an inflatable kiddie pool.”

“Well, you’re not a witch.” You shrug. “And think of it this way, we bought that forever. We bring it back to the bunker, that’s fun.”

“Bought my ass.”Dean drawls your name, giving you a pointed look that makes you squeeze your legs together a little. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you and Sam stole this thing.”

“It was like, $40.” You mumble, staring at the floral patterns of the motel carpet. “I am not paying that much for some plastic.”

“Even for a spell to save my damned soul?” Dean’s teasing, but there’s something in his voice you hate. Something that make you look up at him with a frown, unable to hide the slight desperation in your voice.

“You’re not damned, Dean.”

He just shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes, and before you can push it Sam returns, tossing Dean the keys and announcing that it’s time to figure out what the Mark wants.

So now, in an old, dusty bar, Dean’s smiling. He hasn’t really, really smiled in a few months, and it’s incredible to see.

It aches a little that he’s smiling away from you. Across the bar with his I can show you the world, sweetheart stance and expression. The one where he’s leaning the counter with one arm, and his eyes have a promise of fun while his every word is charming and drawling and teasing. You think he learned it from movies—he’s told you he likes the charisma of old western heroes, and there is something about his whole show that says cowboy—but there’s a pretty strong chance it’s just Dean. It’s how he is. Who he is. All he does is be handsome and stupid and annoying in a way that makes you want to punch him and then immediately kiss him after.

He’s hasn’t been Dean like that in a while, though. It’s been mostly frowns that turn in on his face, and a refusal to look in the mirror that he tries to hide, but you’ve still noticed. But right now, this is your Dean. The Dean who follows you into countless dreams with his pretty lips and eyes and strong hands and body, the Dean who’s managed to haunt you while you're awake and plant an ache in your heart when he’s in pain, and the Dean who you might know a little better than you know yourself. It’s why you ordered a cheeseburger when he went to sulk at the bar, and why you’re facing the door in the booth—Dean always faces the door—and why it hurts something deep and hopeless inside you that the grace of Dean’s smile is all focused on a pretty girl that isn’t you.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Your attention turns to Sam—who’s looking at you with a sympathy that is not welcome—and you give him a flat glare. “What am I supposedto say to that.”

“Um, the truth? I think?” Sam turns in his seat to look over at Dean, and you kick him. “Hey!” He yelps your name, whipping back around with an almost pout. “That hurt-“

“Don’t look at him.” You hiss, jerking your head to Dean. “He needs this.”

“Yeah, but-“

“No but, Sam. The spell is supposed to make him crave things he likes, he likes sex, let him have sex.”

“I don’t…” Sam sighs, shaking his head. “It’s weird. I read the spell-“

“Of course you read the spell-“

“Shut up, I always read the spells, it’s safer. And this one,” Sam looks you over with a frown and tight-lipped, grimacing expression. “This one’s odd.”

“Oh no,” your voice is sarcastic and cold, and it makes Sam flinch a little. “An odd thing. If only we knew some people who knew how to handle odd things.”

“This is why I wish you would just talk to him.” Sam mutters, giving the waitress a kind smile as she hands out the food. “You get mean when things like this happen. And I don’t think it would be as horrible as you’ve decided it would be.”

You pull the cheeseburger to your own side of the table in a blatant Dean-trap. “That is very easy for you to say, Sammy. Worst case for you, you become a child of divorce.”

He shrugs, poking at his salad with a fork. “I think that’s the worst case for Dean. You’d win custody.”

“Fair.” You look back to the cheeseburger, small smile threatening to pull at your lips. “I do have a higher rate of income.”

“No, you don’t,” Sam frowns. “You make exactly what he does. Nothing.”

“Wrong. I’m a better pool hustler than he is, so my return rate is higher.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t let him hear you say that, we’ll be stuck here until he beats you in a game.” He makes a mock face of disgust. “We’ll die here.”

You let yourself fully smile, even as you mutter, “kiss ass.”

Sam just shrugs, grinning himself as he takes a long drink. You really miss smiling. You really miss easy jokes, and you really miss making fun of each other without being consumed by too much grief or pain to do so.

You really miss Dean. He’s just across the room, but you still really miss him. And you want him—your Dean, the one that’s a little ridiculous and overly charming and the strongest, best man you’ve ever known—back. Over here, smiling at you, teasing you, or saying something shockingly genuine that makes your heart his even more than it already has been.

You look back to him in the bar—you can’t really help it, you think Dean and you always start to look for him in any crowd—and for a second you could’ve sworn he was looking at you. His smile has faded a little, and there are lines on his forehead, so if he was looking at you it wasn’t because you’re something good to him. He probably just saw his food, and then saw you, and now he’s antsy. His foot is tapping on the floor, and he’s fidgeting with the cuff of his flannel, so either Rowena’s terrible at her job, or the Mark is eating at him again.

You’ll fix it. Whatever Dean needs you to do for this, for him, you’ll do it silently and without asking for anything in return. No matter how many lectures Sam gives you about being selectively observant and kind of an idiot, you’ll just help Dean, and he won’t have to think twice about it. Helping Dean is what you do, it’s what you’ve done. Your whole life, in some way, has become how can I help Dean. How can I do something for this person who does everything for everyone else, and maybe he’ll turn his attention to me, and maybe he won’t, but no matter what I’ll have helped Dean.

It’s not like he doesn’t help you. Dean opens doors and saves your life and patches your wounds, and he never asks for anything back. But that’s why you want to help.

And this is helping Dean. It might be killing you a little, but it’s helping Dean, so you’ll still fix it, and then drown your sorrows with ice cream, strong drinks, and small moments of his joy when he’s better.

——————

Dean is really, really conflicted. It’s ripping him in half, because he knows he’s supposed to be polite to chicks—like the one in front of him, with the sweet smile and sweeter words he doesn’t deserve to hear—but her voice sounds like nails on chalkboard. She doesn’t feel right, she doesn’t feel good, and the bloodlust inside him doesn’t want her.

Bloodlust is the wrong word. It was the right word, but over the past few hours it didn’t feel like it anymore. Dean’s not great with words—he’s great with guns, and cars, and sometimes drawing, but not words—and even he gets that bloodlust really isn’t the correct word for wanting something in a way that’s clean. Pure and raw, but not innocent. It’s still a craving, it’s still insatiable, but it doesn’t feel tainted. It’s driving Dean to things he couldn’t really hate being dependent on. It had started softer and abstract, right after the spell, with drinks and food, so he’d driven to a bar. Then it had asked for care and love, and Dean didn’t have either of those things readily at his disposal, so he looked where he usually found something close to it. In a pretty girl, with a big rack and unburdened smile.

Then his attention had wandered for half a second, and now it couldn’t come back. The not-bloodlust—that wasn’t a good term for it either, he’d need to come up with a better, catchier one later—had tugged his gaze over to Her and Sam, and suddenly everything had been sharper and a lot more specific. Dean should go back to the booth. The booth had beer, and a cheeseburger, and Her and Sam. Mostly Her, but Sam was cool too. Dean was allowed to love two people.

And that’s where the conflict came in. Dean needed to be over there. His stomach was turning, and his skin was growing itchy and hot the longer he wasn’t there. But if he went over there, not only would he not only be leaving this very sweet girl, who seemed fine, but he might be in real danger of telling Her things he was not supposed to tell her. Things Sam kept telling Dean to tell Her, and things Dean kept having to remind Sam weren’t any of his business. He would not lose another good thing because he couldn’t keep himself in check. He would not poison something that didn’t deserve it, no matter how much the bloodlust kept telling him to. Kept telling him that She was caring and lovely, so Dean should drag her down to his level and kiss her in the grime and guts.

The not-bloodlust wanted Her too. The not-bloodlust really liked the idea of just being closer to Her, because she usually helped things. She helped everyone—Dean wasn’t special—but the not-bloodlust seemed to think that simply breathing air that had been inside her more recently would fix a lot of things that were boiling and cracking and hissing in Dean’s body.

That’s what won the conflict. He wouldn’t have to say things for this to be better, they just would be. So Dean gave the pretty girl an apologetic goodbye—she’d be fine, there were other men who were better than Dean and weren’t overtly craving their best friends in the bar—and almost ran back to Her and Sam.

She looks up at Dean as he scoots into the booth, her brows furrowed and mouth tugging down. “You’re back.”

“Well done, sweetheart, I am back.” Dean grins at Her, and that only makes her frown more.

“Did you, um,” She looks over to Sam, who shrugs. “Did you strike out?”

“Nah, just hungry.” It wasn’t a lie. Dean had been hungry. Dean had been starving, but he felt better now. He’d still eat the cheeseburger, but the hunger had dulled from a mind-numbing desperation and withdrawal to just a growl near his throat of cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers are good.

“Well, how are you feeling?” Sam’s voice is insistent, and Dean rolls his eyes, because he knows where this is going. “Do you want to kill someone? Rowena said the spell might take a few hours to work-“

“Workin’ now. I feel good.” Dean takes a large bite of his cheeseburger, and She and Sam exchange looks.

“Good?”

Dean nods, shooting Her a wink. “Real good,” he says Her name through his mouthful—crumbs falling out of his mouth—and she sighs. Her hand twitches on the table, and Dean wants to hold it. He can’t hold it. He’s not even supposed to be talking right now—that was the deal he’d made with himself—so holding hands if defiantly off the table. It would probably freak her out, too, and that’s the last thing Dean wants to do. He’s freaked Her out enough for a whole lot of lifetimes, so she should be smiling instead.

Dean’s usually really good at making Her smile. He’s proud of that, because She worries more than Sam and has more nightmares than Dean, but he can always make her smile.

She’s not smiling now. She’s tense, and she keeps looking between Dean and the girl at the bar.

“You’re good.” She repeats his words slowly, but it doesn’t sound like she believes them. “And you think the spell worked.”

“Did work.” Dean swallows, and immediately takes another bite. Cheeseburgers are good, the not-bloodlust had decided, so Dean should eat more cheeseburgers. “Don’t think it did, I know it did.”

“How do you know?” Sam asks, pulling the cheeseburger across the table, away from Dean.

“Hey!” Dean reaches for his plate, and Sam moves it away faster. “What the fuck, Sammy, do not touch my burger-”

“It’s distracting you, Dean, and this is serious. We really need to know if the spell worked-“

“It did work. I don’t want to gank anything, I just want my cheeseburger and-“ He has to cut himself off, because that is exactly why he wasn’t supposed to talk. “Look, man, it worked. Trust me, I feel good. No bloodlust, just, uh, not-bloodlust.”

Sam glances at the cheeseburger, then at Her, then at Dean. Dean gives him a very winning grin—all teeth and bright eyes, and give me back my burger, I’m not going to kill anyone—but Sam’s attention just moves back to Her. She mostly looks confused and tired—Dean still needs to make her smile—but she nods, making a loose gesture of surrender, and Sam, finally, slides the food back to Dean.

“If he’s really good,” Sam’s pretty clearly talking to Her, but Dean listens anyways. They’re a team, he’s allowed to hear this stuff. “We should get back to Kansas tonight. It’s not smart to linger in a town after a hunt finishes-“

“I know,” She glances back to Dean, and he offers her his widest, most reassuring smile. She doesn’t smile back, but her face relaxes a little, so Dean counts it as a victory. “Do you want to finish that, or-“

“Gimme three-“

“Chew, Dean.”

He does, holding up three fingers in a silent signal, and inhales the rest of his cheeseburger.

“Holy crap, dude.“ Sam blinks between Dean and the empty plate. “That was really fast, even for you.”

Dean shrugs, standing out of the booth. “Don’t blame me, blame the not-bloodlust. Cheeseburgers or murder, Sammy, gotta be one.”

Sam rolls his eyes, starting to the door, and Dean lingers until She’s on her feet and they can follow Sam together.

“Not-bloodlust is a bad name,” She mutters, staring at the floor as she walks. “What about, uh, what’s the opposite of blood?”

“Dunno.” Dean watches Her carefully, raking his brain for a good answer. “Water? Waterlust?”

That gets him a small, huffed laugh. “That doesn’t make sense, Dean.”

“Doesn’t have to. It’s my lust.”

“It is.” She meets Dean’s eyes, and her attention is soft, but it feels strange. Like she’s trying to find something on Dean’s face he doesn’t know how to get for her. “And if you really want, we can call it waterlust, but I like betterlust.”

“Betterlust?“

“Starts with B,” Her attention turns back to the floor, and Dean feels something sour twist around his heart and forearm. “Fun to say. Makes sense, too, you’re lusting after better stuff.”

Dean was lusting after better stuff. It was a good name—better than not-bloodlust—and he was willing to concede waterlust to Her. It was, overwhelmingly so, the least he could do.

“Betterlust it is, Sweetheart.” He tried his most charming, cocky, look at me, I’m a cowboy and I can be yours if you offer me just a few kind words because I’m a pathetic, worthless wet dog that barks and bites, but man am I good at sex, smile on Her, and this time, he got a real smile back.

End Note: Wow what's this something I write that's actually going to be short? We'll see!

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Taglist

@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224

[demie90s]

pls write literally anything for Natasha Cloud im so obsessed with her and there’s like no fics 😔😔

im trusting you with everything else just good vibes girly you go wild

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 X 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

MASTERLIST, MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Natasha talks big, plays harder, and swears up and down she’s not a simp. But the minute you walk into the gym with a fresh hoodie and lip gloss on, she’s losing focus mid-drill.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: Flirty chaos | Domestic swagger | Established relationship | Real-life baddie love

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Language, kisses mid-argument, Natasha Cloud being both soft and full of smoke at all times, reader being mouthy

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: ~

𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐄: “You talk a lot.” “You like it.” “Shut up and come here.”You’re in her lap before you finish your comeback.

You’re mid-rant about a ref when Natasha walks in. Hair slick. Jersey still half on. Whole attitude bold.

“Baby,” she says, and she already sounds tired. “You can’t be threatening officials on Twitter. That man has a family.”

You shrug, fingers flying across your phone screen. “Then his family should tell him to stop blowing calls.”

She laughs. Deep, loud. Tosses her bag down and pulls you into her lap like it’s nothing.

“You know they tagged me in it, right?”

“They should. You were fouled six times and they only called two. That’s emotional abuse.”

“Emotional—girl, stop.”

You turn to look at her, lips parted, expression serious. “You want me to lie?”

Natasha leans in, mouth brushing your jaw. “I want you to chill.”

You pause. “You want me to kiss you?”

She exhales, grinning. “Same thing.”

At games, you’re that girlfriend. Screaming. Standing. Telling the refs “YOU NOT REAL” while other people sip their sodas.

Natasha hears you every time. You know how she looks over her shoulder and smirks after every made three?

That’s for you. You stand up holding your phone like a mom at a dance recital. “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND,” you yell.

Someone behind you mutters something. You don’t hear it.

But Natasha sees your face shift. And in the postgame interview?

“We played hard. I hit the shots I needed. And my girl in the front row? Put some respect on her name before she has to remind y’all who she is.”

The W says she’s “emotionally passionate.”

You say she’s a damn rockstar.

After the game, she’s still hyped. You’re trying to be normal, but she’s got you pressed into the hallway wall before the door even shuts.

“You show out in the crowd one more time like that…”

“What?” you ask, smirking.

She squints. “I’ma have to walk off midgame.”

“Then shoot faster.”

She kisses you mid-sentence, one hand under your jaw, the other still wrapped from the game.

You pull back, breathless. “You always this cocky?”

She kisses you again. Harder. Slower this time.

“Only when I’m winning.”

[burekforsatoru]

wedding bells

baji keisuke/f!reader | read it on ao3 baji currently only has one problem: the fact that his girlfriend is too damn pretty in that dress. it's like you've picked out the most tantalizingly gorgeous outfit that he can't touch you in as he listens to takemichi and hina recite their vows. that is, until he spots a cloakroom. pulling you in there might just be the solution to the problem he's hiding in his suit trousers. wc: 2.8k tags: THE GOOD TIMELINE, smut, semi-public sex, creampie

𓇼 ⋆.˚ masterlist

“stop fussing with it,” your stern voice commands after another one of baji’s attempts to mess with his tie, “you’re gonna ruin it. again.”

he clicks his tongue, giving up on fighting you on it. it’s not too tight, he’s just being a baby. something you’ve told him countless times today, from the moment when he stepped back with a sharp smirk when you finished tying it in front of the mirror. it should be the other way around, he said, you should be taking it off me, pretty. 

you rolled your eyes then, though the same thought crossed your mind only moments prior, along with an overwhelming desire to just push him on the bed and have your way with him. he looks insanely good in a suit, all dressed up, his long hair brushed and so damn silky, if only you could… no. you would be late.

the word ‘quickie’ doesn’t exist in baji’s vocabulary. you get all or nothing, pretty, he has a habit of saying, especially when you were on a time crunch, but he looked extra good in those scrubs and you just had to press yourself against him in the kitchen, accidentally rubbing your breasts against his back as you reached for the coffee cup in front of him. and he saw through you every time, smirking down at your feigned innocence before caging you in between his strong arms while you stuttered and tried to slip out of getting yet another hickey you’d have to hide before going to classes. 

and you thought sharing an apartment with your boyfriend would make university easier… 

you thank your lucky stars that both of you managed to keep it in your pants, dress, whatever. hina would have killed you if you were late. the ceremony is short enough, but some people still manage to fall asleep during it. baji holds your hand the entire time, brushing his rough thumb over your soft skin while takemichi recites his vows, nearly making hina’s eyes shine with happiness.

her dress is beautiful, you have to find mitsuya later to congratulate him on the masterpiece. hina only showed you pieces of it while it was being designed, the whole thing is so much more than you could’ve visualized. it hugs her figure perfectly, the white makes her pink hair pop, the ruffles gracefully fall down the side of the skirt, making her look like a princess. you sigh, she’s so beautiful, and takemichi looks like he’s on the verge of tears as he speaks. so damn happy for them, you think, willing your own tear to stop trying to roll down your cheek.

“i see you holding it in, sweets.” baji’s quiet voice gently touches your ear as he leans in to whisper those words to you. you turn your head to him slowly, thinking about how it would be a damn shame if your makeup got ruined at the very start of the wedding.

“‘m not holding in anything,” you proudly respond, but even a glimpse of his serious face while he’s wearing that suit is enough to make you question going somewhere so public, “you’re seeing things.”

“mhm, sure,” he chuckles quietly, still brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “and i’m a weak fighter.”

“didn’t think you’d ever admit it.” a smile tugs on your lips, a smile that, paired with that teasing line, puts images in his head.

you know he already sees you lying over his lap, ass cheeks reddened from the amount of smacking his numbing palm is doing, he sees you with tears in your pretty eyes as he folds you in half and fucks you like his life depends on it. he smacks his lips and smirks as he looks down at your dress, the pretty, satin material such a gorgeous dark shade of green that looks like it’s made for you. there’s a delicious slit down your thigh, parting the dress to reveal your smooth skin. the material gathered around your chest catches his eye as he notes that you’re not wearing a bra under it. he lifts your hand, the one he’s been holding the entire ceremony, and kisses your knuckles gently, smiling at the images in his head.

“i love you so much, you know that, right?” his low tone strikes like an arrow to your heart, nearly making you gasp. 

baji’s never been one for grand words like love, he prefers to show his affections in a very baji way, not just repeat words that he’s been told meant a certain thing. he doesn’t believe the depth of his emotions can be contained within such a simple word. love. 

he wakes you up gently because he knows you’re not a morning person and the only way you won’t be cranky is if he kisses your nose and cheeks before rolling out of bed. he brings you coffee to work, takes you out to the park between classes so you can have your lunch together, basking in the sun before carrying your bag back inside. he picks you up and carries you around despite your half-hearted protests, makes you tea in the evenings when you’re tired but insist on studying late, puts on your favorite songs when you’re just relaxing at the apartment. baji believes in actions over words, and hearing him use the word is rare. it’s almost enough to make you release that tear that tried to spill from your eye earlier.

“love you too, dummy.” you reply, unable to contain the smile that cracks your frozen expression.

once hina and takemichi kiss, for the first time as a married couple, the crowd rises to their feet and applauds. you’re reluctant to let go of baji’s hand, but the excitement of the moment requires both of them to loudly clap and cheer along with the rest of the guests. so happy, it crosses your mind, they look as happy as i feel with him. baji turns almost as if he can hear your thoughts and winks at you. he doesn’t ever have to do much to make you into a blushing mess, a wink and a flash of those sharp canines are enough. 

────୨ৎ────

“you don’t know what it’s doing to me…” baji trails after you to reach the courtyard of the reception hall, hand on your hip, his lips right next to your ear. 

“what are you talking about?” you feign ignorance, but the way his eyes slid that long, tight dress off your body during the ceremony didn’t escape your notice. 

“the dress, dummy,” he kisses your temple, pulling you closer to him once you reach the front door, “it’s so pretty but i wanna rip it off you.” 

you’re about to make a snarky comment when he drags you away, pulling you by the arm towards a heavy, polished wooden door that reads cloakroom, staff only.

as soon as the door closes behind him, baji turns and presses you against the wall, knocking a few coats and blazers to the floor. he couldn’t care less, to hell with the fancy fabrics, the pressed garments, expensive shawls. his hands quickly find the slit in your dress, pushing it apart to glide those rough palms over your silky soft skin. one quick pat on the underside of your thigh and you jump up to wrap your legs around his waist. he holds you up, pressing his hips into yours and his face into the crook of your neck. sharp teeth nip at your skin, enough to pull moans from your throat where he grazes it, but not to bruise you. that will have to wait until you’re back home tonight and he doesn’t have to be careful. 

“seeing you so dolled up at the wedding…” baji’s voice is dripping in lust, “just makes me wanna put a ring on your finger as soon as possible.” he dives in, kissing down your neck, having you hold onto his silky hair as his lips and teeth compete in who’s going to touch your skin more. 

“baji…” you sigh, voice light as the petals you threw over the happy couple earlier, “you know we should–”

“mhm, i know, pretty,” he licks up your throat, kissing the tip of your chin, “degree first, wedding second.” cleverly, his fingers bunch up the satin fabric of your lovely dress, hiking it up around your waist to grab onto the flesh of your ass and slide your panties to the side, uncovering your already needy pussy, dripping for him to fit his impatient cock inside it.

a small gasp leaves you when those same clever fingers swipe through your folds, collecting slick to taste like he’s sampling a wedding cake. 

“but i really wanna wife you up soon, gotta… fuck, gotta have you forever.” he sounds like a man addicted, taking a deep breath of you just under your jaw, kissing it fiercely as he busies himself with unzipping those annoying classy trousers he’s wearing. 

it would be way easier if he could’ve worn anything else, not these tailor-made trousers, the type that most of the toman guys are wearing today. he appreciates mitsuya, really, he does, but maybe he should’ve added a secret string that would let baji slide them off easier so he can fuck his girlfriend in the damn cloakroom like god fucking intended. 

you can’t complain, despite waiting for him to one-handedly rid himself of the constraints of the trousers, your eyes have been feasting on the view of him in that suit. it’s been difficult keeping your hands to yourself, not reaching out and smacking his ass when he stepped out to open the car door for you. but now you’re getting impatient, every second he takes is a second you don’t want to spend without him inside you now that he’s made you so damn wet you’re certain there’s a piece of fabric at the bottom of the ocean somewhere that’s drier than your panties. 

baji lets out a sigh of relief when he finally undoes the trousers, freeing his cock from the constraints and immediately pressing it against you, rubbing his tip through your soaked slit once, twice, fuck, three times just to mess with you.

“hmmm but what if I made you beg?” he lowers his voice, leaning against the side of your head where his lips gently brush your ear. “what if I wanted to play a little?” 

he feeds on your little whimpers, pushes his tip inside your sweet, dripping cunt, and pulls it out.

“e-evil… you're sooooo evil.” you pout, batting your lashes at him and his mean teasing.

“naaawwww you love me like this, pretty.” he pushes his tip in again, pulling out just to hear you huff in exasperation.

 he chuckles, finally pushing into you fully, sinking into your tight wet cunt to the hilt. his balls press against you and he lets out a gorgeous moan, leaning down to kiss your exposed collarbones. 

“you’re lucky, my sweet girl…” he makes an experimental thrust, biting your collarbone to get a reaction out of you. one sugary moan and he keeps going, pushing into you almost desperately. “lucky… that i’ve been keeping my dick down the whole ceremony,” baji grunts as his hips snap against your thighs, blessing the fact that you’ve always been good at keeping yourself up by his hips, “because otherwise, hnngh i woulda’ had you dripping from just the tip.” 

and you feel lucky, that he’s giving you his thick cock so desperately when he had the capacity, the habit, to be mean. you feel lucky with each kiss of his tip to your sweet spot. your eyes roll back, lips part, legs go numb as he bullies his way inside your sweet, soft cunt that keeps contracting around his shaft while your throat lets out small, breathless moans. the back of your head meets the wall repeatedly, but you can’t care about any sensation that isn’t baji’s body on yours.

“fuuuck just like that…” you pant, holding onto his long hair with your desperate fingers.

he chuckles at your pleasure, kissing the part of your neck he usually loves to bite. you don’t even realize how much self-control he’s exercising now trying not to bite into you like you’re the juiciest slice of watermelon.

but he’ll be nice, he’ll fuck you until you’re drooling, and then he’ll help you fix your makeup. he’ll hold your hand as you dance and mingle and drink champagne and he’ll give you all the sweetest compliments. that is, until you get home and he can bend you over the table, eating you out until your legs shake so much you can’t stand, and then fucking you until you nearly pass out. for now, though… he’ll be nice.

your whines and whimpers rise in pitch as baji’s hips speed up, rutting into you almost like he’s holding on so he doesn’t fall off the edge of the earth. he grips your hips, still careful not to tug on your dress. that gorgeous, dark green satin that feels so good under his fingertips. that gorgeous dress that got him thinking all kinds of unspeakable things. that dress that’s now bunched up around your waist, uncovering the flesh of your abdomen that he focuses his eyes on. oh how he’s going to sink his teeth into it once he brings you back home. he gets lost in the memories of your skin under his teeth, lifting his eyes to look into your glossy ones. with your lips parted, curses keep spilling from between them, a little bit of drool is gathering in the corner of your lips as he slams into you, grunting as your back meets the wall.

“damn… pretty, i won’t…” he groans, the sight of your fucked out face and the sound of your sugary moans tilt his self control, toppling it over as he attaches his lips to your pulse point. he kisses hard, trying so desperately not to suck or bite, trying to keep you free of his marks until it’s safe. 

“b-baji please…” you drawl into his ear, moans giving way to straight up pleas in a whiny voice. his cock speeds up, pushing against your sweet spot so perfectly angled as you repeatedly contract around him, threatening to fall over the edge at once.

“almost there, sweets, aaaalmost there…” he pushes harder against the wall, stabilizing you to use one hand so he can rub your needy clit in tight circles.

he hits the spot almost immediately, making you gasp out loudly as your tight walls contract around him, squeezing him as the cries from your lips get louder and you finish with a shiver going from the top of your head down to your toes. just as he expects, your cunt squeezes him just right, making his hips stutter against yours and he slowly shoots his release into you, sighing in relief at the sensation as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“mmmphh!” you whine, feeling the warmth of his cum fill you like always.

“ohhh my pretty girl… my sweet, sweet girl…” he coos, coming down from his high, “gonna have to marry you… have to make ya mine…” he presses kiss after sweet kiss to your pout, careful not to swipe any of your lipstick onto your face. 

opening your eyes, you take in the blissed out smile on his pretty face, sharp canines poking out from his lips. he releases you slowly, letting your feet touch the floor before taking his hands off you. a little drop of his cum drips onto the floor, making him chuckle in amusement.

“well… help me then?” you point at the softness of your pussy now filled with his sticky mess. baji takes his sweet time getting a packet of wet wipes from your discarded purse, crouching down to gently wipe you clean before pressing a sweet kiss to your clit. 

shuffling to pull your dress down, smoothing out the fabric that now once again glides down your hips and legs, you take out a small compact mirror from the purse. baji fixes his hair as you wipe the saliva gathered at the corner of your lips, cleaning up the lipstick before pretending nothing happened in the cloakroom, the purse hanging from your shoulder like it did before baji pulled you inside. taking his hand once again, both now visibly more relaxed, you stroll out, thankful that nobody sees you slip from behind the closed door. 

you find emma and draken on the dance floor, swaying to a gentle rhythm that baji and you quickly catch as he places his hands on your waist.

“love you, even if you did just make me have a damn quickie…” he whispers into your ear, placing a kiss under your lobe, “you look incredible.”

you smile and slide your hand from the back of his neck to his cheek, bringing him in for a sweet kiss.

“love you too, baby…” you hesitate, looking down to admire the way he looks in that suit again, “you’re gonna have to wear this more often.”

♡ if you enjoyed this, consider leaving a like, reblog, or a comment. interaction helps keep your writers motivated!

baji laughs, kissing you once again before resuming his position and continuing swaying with you. the songs change, but the rhythm and your close embrace stay exactly the same.

[laceandlipstick]

dog-eared | j.k

johnny knoxville x virgin!reader

MDNI

word count: 3.2k

summary: working at a bookstore can get pretty boring—until johnny knoxville walks in and suddenly you can’t stop looking at him. and maybe, just maybe, he can’t stop looking at you either.

warnings: SMUT, age gap (reader is in her 20s and johnny is in his late 40s), virginity loss, p in v, dirty talk, kinda really fluffy, oral f!recieving, fingering, let me know if i missed any!

Working at a bookstore wasn’t usually thrilling.

Until Johnny Knoxville walked in.

You knew he was coming, obviously—the staff had spent a week prepping for the Q&A and signing event tied to the release of his memoir, Broken, Bruised, and Loving It. But no amount of emails or floor plans or advance copies could prepare you for the real thing: 6 feet of chaos, swagger, and bruised-up charisma in a denim jacket and chipped sunglasses.

He entered like he owned the joint, and maybe in a way he did—half the crowd here tonight was buzzing for him. You watched from the staff counter, silently reciting all the ways you were not going to lose your cool. You weren’t going to fangirl. You weren’t going to blush. You definitely weren’t going to tell him that you used to rewind the “rocket sled” scene like it was your favorite film.

Then he looked right at you.

“Hey,” he called out, pointing from across the room like he recognized you from a dream or a mugshot. “You look like you’ve seen someone fly into a tree before.”

You froze, halfway between setting out bookmarks and forgetting how to breathe. “I, uh… maybe once or twice.”

He smirked and kept walking, but your hands shook for five minutes after.

⸻

The Q&A was chaos in a can. Knoxville told stories like a drunk uncle on a roll—animated, inappropriate, wildly entertaining. He balanced on the edge of a display table, flirted with elderly fans, and mimed multiple stunts with what looked like real trauma in his eyes. The crowd was in love.

So were you, kind of.

Not in the poster-on-your-wall way you’d been in high school. This was worse. This was adult-level infatuation—the kind that came with deeper tension, heavier curiosity, and the unbearable awareness of his mouth when he licked his lips after laughing.

And worse? He kept glancing at you.

Not just once. Repeatedly. Like you were the only calm thing in the whole damn room and he couldn’t stop circling back to it.

⸻

After the signing ended and most people had filtered out, Knoxville lingered behind, sipping from a bottle of water and flipping through a poetry book someone had gifted him.

“Hey,” he said again, sidling up to the register where you were half-cleaning, half-hiding. “You a fan or just immune to weirdness by now?”

You looked up, pulse spiking. “I grew up on your stuff. The old DVDs. The MTV reruns. I watched Jackass 3D in the theater like three times.”

He grinned. “So you’re telling me I was part of your sexual awakening?”

You nearly dropped the pen in your hand. “I—no—what? That’s not—”

“I’m just messin’ with you.” He leaned on the counter, smile wicked but eyes sincere. “Mostly.”

You swallowed. “You want me to get someone to box up the extra copies for you?”

“Nah. I came over to talk to you.”

That pulled your gaze up.

“You’ve been watching me all night,” he said easily, no accusation, just fact. “But not like the others. You weren’t waiting for a selfie. You weren’t screaming. You were just… there. Calm. Cool. Smart.”

You gave a small, breathless laugh. “You got all that from how I arranged a stack of books?”

He shrugged. “I’ve had enough concussions to develop weird instincts.”

A beat passed. You watched each other.

Then he asked, gently, “You seeing anyone?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m asking if it’d be wildly inappropriate to ask you out while I’m technically on a book tour.”

Your heart thudded. “Not inappropriate. Just… unexpected.”

He leaned in, voice a little lower. “You’ve got this whole… sweet and dangerous vibe. Like you’d blush if I said something filthy but you’d remember it word for word.”

You were absolutely blushing.

He grinned. “See?”

You hesitated, then blurted, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Worked in a bookstore?” he teased.

“No.” Your voice was soft now. “Like… this. The flirting. The being noticed. The maybe saying yes.”

His teasing eased off instantly. “Shit. You serious?”

You nodded.

He straightened, less wolfish now, more curious. “Okay. Alright. So you’ve been flying under the radar and I’m your first close call?”

Something in his voice made the hair on your arms rise. You felt exposed but not unsafe. Nervous, but not panicked.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he added. “Not tonight. Not unless you want it. I just… don’t meet people like you often.”

You exhaled slowly. “Maybe you should ask.”

His eyes lit up.

“Would you,” he said carefully, “like to grab a drink with me? Somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can still say no to anything you want, but maybe… maybe yes, too?”

Your lips parted, a smile creeping in despite the racing in your chest.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I think I would.”

⸻

Johnny picked the dive bar like he’d been born in it.

It was tucked three blocks down from the bookstore, half-lit and humming with the low murmur of locals nursing drinks. No cameras. No screaming fans. Just a jukebox, a dartboard, and a worn booth in the back that looked like it had survived a few bad decisions.

You slid into the seat across from him, pulse still high.

“Alright,” he said, shrugging off his jacket. “Now that we’re off the clock, you can tell me what it’s like working at a bookstore full of dusty hardbacks and horny college kids.”

You laughed. “Mostly quiet. A little chaotic during finals. Occasionally I have to stop someone from reading smut aloud in the corner.”

His eyes lit up. “Wait—people do that?”

“More than you’d think.”

“I knew bookstores were kinky,” he said, grinning wide. “Something about all those dog-eared pages and unspoken tension.”

You sipped your drink, raising a brow. “Is that your professional analysis?”

“Babe, I’ve been launched into the air in a porta-potty. I majored in unspoken tension.”

You smiled, but your fingers were still trembling slightly around your glass. It wasn’t nerves exactly—it was that awful, wonderful feeling of anticipation. Like your body already knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

Johnny noticed.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, all the playfulness gone soft around the edges.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… processing.”

“Tell me what’s in your head. I got time.”

You paused. “I guess I’m trying to figure out why you’re even interested in me. You’re—you know—you. And I’m just… the girl who alphabetizes Bukowski collections and secretly watches your movies on sick days.”

He leaned in, folding his arms on the table, eyes steady on yours.

“I’ve had a lot of girls scream for me,” he said. “A lot of parties. A lot of noise. It’s easy to get lost in that. But you—” he tilted his head—“you looked at me like I was real. Not just a dude in a shopping cart with fireworks taped to his ass.”

You bit your lip, heartbeat thudding.

“And if I’m being honest,” he added, “it’s been a long time since someone made me want to slow down.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with meaning.

You barely noticed the way your hand drifted across the table—until his fingers brushed yours, warm and rough and strangely reassuring.

“I’m not good at this,” you said softly.

“I don’t care if you’re bad at it,” he replied. “I just care that it’s real.”

⸻

By the time you stepped out into the night air again, you weren’t ready to say goodbye. He wasn’t either.

So when he asked if you wanted to walk back with him to his hotel, you said yes.

Not because you were sure. Not because you felt like you should. But because something about him—about tonight—made you feel safe in the mess. Seen.

The walk was quiet. Comfortable. The occasional car passed. The city hummed around you. And Johnny, somehow, didn’t fill the silence with jokes. He just matched your pace and held the door for you like he hadn’t once jumped off a roof for a laugh.

⸻

His hotel room was too nice for someone like him. Sleek. Minimal. Very un-Jackass.

He dropped his keycard on the counter, turned to you, and scratched the back of his neck.

“This part’s always awkward,” he admitted. “The, uh, figuring-out-what-happens-now part.”

You swallowed. “I know I said I haven’t… done anything like this before, but I’m not scared. Just…”

“New,” he finished.

You nodded.

He walked over slowly, giving you every chance to stop him, but you didn’t. You stood your ground as he reached out and gently took your face in both hands.

“I’m not gonna rush this,” he said, eyes flicking between yours. “You say stop, it’s stop. You change your mind, it’s cool. But if you want me to kiss you—”

“I do,” you whispered.

And he did.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss you expected from someone like him—wild, erratic, full of adrenaline. It was slow. Focused. His lips were softer than they had any right to be, his hands steady as they cradled your jaw. He kissed you like you were the only thing holding him to the earth.

You sighed into it, letting your arms slide around his waist.

He deepened it just a little—just enough to make you feel it in your knees—before he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“I could get used to that,” he said, voice rough.

You smiled, heart pounding. “So could I.”

His lips were still brushing yours when you whispered, “I want this.”

Johnny paused.

Not because he didn’t believe you. But because you were trembling just enough for him to feel it through your clothes.

He pulled back slowly, resting his hands at your hips, like he was anchoring himself there. “You sure?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your throat. “I’ve thought about it before. Not just… sex. But with someone who makes me feel something.”

He gave you a small, crooked smile. “And I make you feel something?”

You laughed softly. “Johnny, you make me feel everything.”

That grin faltered for a second, replaced with something deeper—something almost reverent.

He kissed you again, slower this time. No urgency. Just the weight of possibility passing between you.

Then he whispered, “Let me take care of you.”

You found yourself being guided gently toward the bed. Johnny’s touch never rushed, never forceful—just steady, warm, patient.

“You good?” he asked, hands pausing at the hem of your shirt.

You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I trust you.”

That did something to him. You could see it in his eyes—how careful he became. Like the weight of that trust mattered more than anything.

He tugged your shirt over your head, pausing only to kiss the bare skin just above your heart. Then he let his hands drift down your arms, eyes tracing every inch like he was memorizing you.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, like it wasn’t even a question.

Your breath hitched. “You’ve probably said that to a lot of girls.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, kissing the top of your shoulder. “But never like this.”

His fingers worked at your jeans, slow and precise, giving you time to breathe, time to change your mind—but you didn’t want to. You wanted to see where this went.

He kissed every inch of exposed skin as he helped you out of them, his palms firm but gentle at your hips, down your thighs.

When you stood in front of him in nothing but your underwear, he stepped back just slightly, looking you over with genuine admiration.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “How the hell am I supposed to behave now?”

You bit your lip. “Maybe don’t.”

That made him laugh, low and warm, as he reached for the hem of his own shirt. You watched, spellbound, as he peeled it off—revealing that lean, wiry frame you’d seen a hundred times onscreen, now real and right in front of you.

Faded bruises. Scars. Tattooed chaos.

And still, something soft in the way he looked at you.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you close again, skin to skin.

The first time his chest pressed against yours, you gasped at the heat of it, the feel of him—all bone and muscle and heartbeat.

He kissed your temple. “Still okay?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Don’t stop.”

The bed dipped beneath you both as he climbed in, settling beside you instead of over you. His touch stayed exploratory—not demanding.

“You nervous?” he asked quietly, fingers tracing your ribs beneath the curve of your bra.

You nodded. “A little.”

“I’ll talk you through it,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, then your neck. “No pressure. No rush. Just me, and you, and this.”

Your fingers dug lightly into his back as he moved lower, lips trailing warmth down your collarbone.

He whispered everything he was doing—where he was touching, why—like a guided meditation with a dirty mouth. And God, it worked. It grounded you. Made you feel like this wasn’t just happening to you—it was something you were doing together.

When his hands slid beneath your bra and cupped your breasts, he groaned softly into your skin. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

You tilted your head, flushed. “You imagined this?”

“Babe,” he said, grinning into your cleavage, “I’ve been imagining it all day.”

You laughed, breathless, as he undid the clasp and tossed your bra aside.

Then he paused, just for a second—eyes meeting yours—before he leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth.

You cried out softly, hips twitching at the sudden spike of pleasure. He groaned at the sound, sucked a little harder, then switched to the other side, hand trailing down your stomach.

“Still good?” he murmured.

“Yes,” you gasped.

He smiled against your skin. “Then hold on, baby. ‘Cause I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

“Relax,” Johnny whispered as his hand slid down between your legs. “Let me feel you.”

You were already soaked, the cotton of your underwear clinging to you in a way that made him groan against your neck.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. “You’re so wet. You been holding onto this for a while, haven’t you?”

You couldn’t speak—could barely think. You just nodded, hips rocking into his palm.

He touched you through the fabric first, slow. The pad of his finger traced the shape of you, finding your clit with practiced ease. He didn’t rush—just circled, barely-there pressure, teasing you until your thighs started to shake.

“You’re doing so good,” he said softly. “Let me take these off, baby.”

You lifted your hips and let him slide your underwear down your legs. When you were finally bare beneath him, he took a second—just looked—and exhaled like the sight physically did something to him.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured, fingers dragging gently through your folds. “All of you.”

Then his mouth replaced his hand.

You gasped—loud—as he licked a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, then did it again, like he needed the taste.

“Oh my God—” you panted, hips lifting.

He grinned against you. “You taste even better than I imagined. Think I could stay here all night.”

And he almost did.

His tongue moved in slow, teasing patterns, sucking and flicking until your moans filled the room. He didn’t rush your build-up—just watched you unravel, voice full of praise every time you whimpered his name.

When you started to tighten, he slowed down.

“Not yet,” he said, voice gravel over honey. “I wanna be inside you when you come.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and trembling. “Are you sure? I—what if I’m not good?”

He smiled, the kind of soft, warm grin that made your chest ache. “There’s no such thing as bad when it’s real.”

Then he kissed you—deeply, like you hadn’t just had his mouth on you seconds ago—and when he pulled back, you felt stripped down to your soul.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I want you.”

He reached into the nightstand, rolled on a condom, then came back to you—slower this time, gentler. He hovered above you, arms caging your head, eyes locked on yours.

“I’m gonna go slow,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Tell me if it hurts. I’ll stop.”

You nodded.

Then he pushed in.

Your breath caught—stretch, pressure, a little ache—and your hands fisted in the sheets.

Johnny didn’t move.

He just kissed your jaw, whispered praise, waited until your muscles stopped clenching around him. He was warm, solid, grounding.

“You okay?” he asked again.

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Just… full.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah, baby. You’re perfect like this.”

When he started to move, it was so slow—shallow thrusts, hips rocking just enough to make you feel everything. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together, grounding you.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured. “you’re taking me so well.”

You moaned at the words, and he grinned. “Oh, you like that, huh?”

“Yeah,” you gasped.

“Good. ‘Cause I’ve got a lot more where that came from.”

He began thrusting a little deeper, the stretch easing now, your body melting beneath him. The ache had turned into something else entirely—hot and thick and needy.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and strained. “Can’t believe this is your first time. You feel like a fucking dream.”

You whimpered, pulling him closer. “Johnny—please—”

“I got you,” he promised. “Let go for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

It hit like a wave—your orgasm crashing through you, sharp and sweet, clenching around him until he groaned deep in his chest and buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “You feel so good—I can’t—”

He followed with a loud, broken moan, hips jerking once, twice, then stilling.

He stayed inside you for a while, kissing your cheek, your temple, brushing your hair back from your sweaty face.

“You okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah,” you whispered, still dazed. “I feel amazing.”

He pulled out carefully, kissed your knee, then got up to grab a towel and clean you gently.

You watched him move—naked, sweet, ridiculously tender—and felt something deeper than lust settle in your chest.

When he came back, he crawled under the sheets and pulled you into his arms without a word.

You curled into his chest, fingers tracing the ink on his ribs.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

He looked down at you, brow furrowed like you’d said something wild. “For what?”

“For being so…” You trailed off, searching for the right word. “Kind.”

His grin was soft this time. “Hey. You made it easy.”

You fell asleep on his chest, his arm around you, his fingers idly stroking your spine. For a man who once got punched by a bull on camera, he held you like you were made of glass.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d let him do it again tomorrow.

[trippinsorrows]

random dreamland lore/facts

literally no one asked for this, but idk, random shit be coming to me or little things that don't make the cut in oneshots/shorts. figured i'd share or whatever.

in the 'yacht it up' oneshot, when roman walked in and found the og's and solana dancing, they were dancing to danza kuduro. and, unless you live under a rock, you know that's an ass shaking song through and through. consequently, roman almost had a damn stroke when he saw lina and tama uploaded clips of them all dancing to their tiktok account. especially seeing solana in said video, cause sis was having a time, and the booty was bootying in that damn bikini. not to mention lina and leya, who are built just like they mama and were also wearing bikinis. consequently, roman threw a fit and had them take it down.

there was also a lil dance party with aria and the littles as well before the girls needed their naps, and koa and kai needed to recharge their social batteries. yes....they got into it with roro, too.

in the 'happy father's day' oneshot, after roman read the letters, by the time he got back to the bedroom, solana was knocked out. he let her sleep, knowing she had to be exhausted from a busy day. he 100% woke her up the next morning with some head though.

roman was horrified when he started attending talent shows and recitals for the kids and was informed said kid would not be going on stage until the end.

"the end? baby, i don't wanna sit here and watch some fucking kids i didn't make pretend they have talent."

he tried to make arrangements one time for aria to go first, but she wasn't having it. at all. "daddy, they save the best for last!"

it's usually the whole gang there supporting the kids whenever they have events. the whole fam is super supportive.

one time, roman, who loves that popcorn they be selling at the events, but hates talking to people, makes the mistake of sending tama to go buy him some.

tama does not come back until damn near 25 minutes later, roman naturally irritated. "where the hell have you been, and where's my damn popcorn?"

tama proceeds to explain he ran into some girl....the same girl he gave the popcorn to.

"shit, my bad, dad. i forgot that was for you." he shrugs, offering, "you should go buy some more for yourself."

roman is praying to any and all Gods for the strength to not kill that boy.

leya's very first dance recital is such an emotional thing. she's always wanted to dance but was too anxious, her ocd playing a big role, so when she finally is able to build up to it, the whole family is so damn proud of her.

i'm a cliche bitch, and the music video inspired this idea slightly, but she dances to "hall of fame" by the script and will.i.am.

i'll probably write a short about it at some point, cause there's a precious moment of solana encouraging leya, who starts to get super anxious and spiral the day of. and another subplot involving roman whose flight home gets delayed, so he might not make it...

solana had a period of struggle and difficulty after giving lina and leya the talk for the first time. she was triggered slightly when lina innocently asked about solana's first time and assumed it was with roman.

that opens up some old wounds, and while solana is immensely grateful her daughters don't share her trauma, a part of her is saddened knowing that she never got what her girls will. the right to choose. happy for them. grief for her towards herself, if that makes sense.

i probably have more, but i think that's it for now.

[livingfiction]

4th times the charm…My sinners Character’s Review PART 1

So, I have been trying to write this review for damn near a week! And now that I’ve seen the movie for the 4th and probably final time (I think it will be leaving theaters after this week) I can. I have never gone, or even felt the need to go see a movie FOUR times. I knew this movie held a special place in my heart when after debating with myself I decided I had to go again because I may never get to experience this film on the big screen ever again and I would regret not taking this opportunity. I’m going to do an overall review, but I want to discuss some characters individually, things I noticed and also address some…issues. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SKIP AROUND SECTIONS

SAMMIE:

I loved Sammie! He really was my baby!!! I’ve mentioned this before, but I loved how strong willed and determined he was. He even stood his ground against smoke when he threatened him to try to keep him out of Juke joints. And the thing is I know he was intimidated and afraid, but still he spoke up for himself, including when Smoke was going to shoot Pearline for not eating the garlic. And despite his young age (and I’m assuming maybe even inexperience) he shameless pursued a married older woman and even had the gall to ask her if she was happily married. He was so confident and audacious. I was so proud of him for choosing his music and for choosing not to believe that his gift was evil. When it comes to black people in the entertainment industry, any time an artist gets too successful, they are immediately labeled as devil worshippers and claims arise that they sold their sold for success. It doesn’t matter how talented they are or how much work they’ve put in. And these accusations are usually lobbied by the black community. It’s like black people REFUSE to believe that black people can be successful through the grace and blessings of God (which is a whole other topic). But you see that with Sammie. His father and even smoke only see his talent as good/useful if its being used in a less flamboyant and bold way. We see Sammie recite the bible from heart early in the movie and we know that his father is a deeply religious preacher. He has been raised in the church and with a certain set of standards for how one should live and with him being so young it takes a lot of courage and confidence to go against a lifetime of conditioning. You could tell that Pearline and Delta Slim had a profound impact on his life despite only knowing them for less than a day. When he’s recounting that day at the end, I noticed those are the two people that he thinks of first. He even named his club after Pearline.  At the end of the movie, he says that before the sun went down that day at the Juke was the best day of his life. And that really broke my heart. For Sammie to have lived for 60 yrs (SIXTY!!!)   after that day and to clearly have achieved a great level of success (he has his own club and has been able to tour, perform, and record albums), for him to have had a LIFETIME of experiences and live out his wildest dreams and that day is the greatest to him. And then the movie closing with’ The Last Time’ playing while he, smoke, and stack ride down the rode in 1932 brings me to tears EVERY time.

PEARLINE:

I know Pearline wasn’t a major character. But I adored her all the same! I saw someone else say this and I agree, I love that they didn’t make her character out to be a jezebel who led Sammie astray and “got what she deserved” for committing adultery.  I don’t even think people realize that it was ALSO her who saved Sammie’s life. When Remmick came through the Mill doors after they went up the stairs, Smoke was fighting against Stack, and Remmick had damn bit Sammie before Pearline stabbed him. She basically sacrificed herself and told Sammie to go after she was bitten. Also, Jayme was so beautiful and she really made this character shine. 

DELTA SLIM: Slim was such a multi-faceted and powerful character. I noticed that at the end when he sacrificed himself for the others after he took a swig of the beer he said “it’s still nasty”. When Stack was bribing him with the alcohol, it seemed like he liked it when he took a drink, but now I think that’s not the case. Him saying its STILL nasty at the end implies that he thought it was nasty when he first tried it. Stack clearly knew Slim very well and you could tell they go back and it was more than them knowing each other in passing kind of way. Slim was clearly territorial over the strip (as many performers are cause that’s their money of course) he worked and told Stack that if Sammie wasn’t his cousin specifically, he’d cut him (and a drunk or not I believe him).  Stack grabbed a single beer from the truck when he left with Sammie and you could see the “gotcha” look on his face when slim asked him what he had. Stack knew he would need something to draw Slim in as even money wasn’t enough, but I don’t think Delta Slim joined them for the money or even the liquor. I genuinely believe he was lonely and looking for true community with people he knew not just people he performed for. He told Stack he didn’t think he even had 10 more years left on this earth (eerie foreshadowing because he didn’t even have another day). He’s an old man and of course as you get older more and more people die. He more than likely doesn’t have a lot of friends or family left---I’m sure the alcoholism didn’t help his personal relationships either. I also believe he sensed, not only Sammie’s talent before he even played, but the way his very soul was tied to his music. It was Sammie’s lifeline just like it was Delta’s. I saw some people say alcoholism saved his life, but it’s deeper than that. Music and alcohol saved Delta’s sanity. Yes, he drank and joked a lot, but he was in his right state of mind and had sense. He only told one tragic story, but it was enough, and I know as black man living in Jim Crow south (not to mention Delta had to have been born in the late 1800’s-proabley a little after slavery ended if not a little before) he probably had plenty more. I mean he and his friend were literally kidnapped by cops and taken to a home and forced to perform like show animals for white people. Before he sacrificed himself, he gave Sammie his guitar and told him to remember what he told him. To remember that they make magic with their music and that its apart of their very being because black people brought it from “home”. And for one day and part of the night he was a man with a home for what was probably the first time in a long time.

REMMICK:

I don’t really have too much to say about Remmick, but I do want to touch on a few things. I’ve seen so many theories about Remmick, but to me he was a very straight forward character. He wanted Sammie so that he could see his people again and everything he did after discovering him was an effort to gain control over him and his gifts. I notice people keep saying Remmick was trying to build community, but I didn’t see it that way. He wanted his ORIGINAL community before he became a vampire. If Remmick wanted a real community of people here he could’ve created that a hundred times over as it appears he’s been alive for a while. It’s deeper than that. I have a theory that Remmick stayed a vampire out of spite and just got used to it and accepted the life. Being presented with that kind of power migh’ve been seen as way to have fighting chance in a world that had decimated his people and corrupted his culture. Especially, after having his home be colonized where his family’s land was stolen and a foreign religion was forced his people. I have said that after being staked he looked shocked but as he watched the sun come up, he actually looked relieved to me. Like he was saying finally I’m free. His most profound character moment to me was when he started reciting the Lord’s prayer with Sammie. He had been talking in an American Southern accent the whole movie, but he had an Irish accent when he was reciting it. It’s like for the first time the REAL him from before that time (1932), and from before his change came through. I don’t think he changed the juke patrons because he really wanted them to join him or because he actually wanted to build with them. It was more of an intimidation tactic and also it served as proof to the ones inside that he was trying to “help” by joining them all together as “one people”. Also, I don’t know why people were claiming Remmick wanted Annie for gifts, once again I felt like this was just people making shit up, because the ONLY person he wanted was Sammie. Remmick didn’t even want Smoke and Mary to be honest. The whole trying to turn Annie and Smoke was completely Stack’s and Mary’s idea. He had literally said that if they gave him Sammie he would leave. Remmick had one goal and one goal only and was to pierce the veil to be connected with his ancestors so he could finally be at home again. Everybody was just a means to end for him to get what he wanted.

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS AS WOMEN IN RAP

scout: i had to decide who was getting what between scout and pyro, and i think i’ve made the decision. i’m giving scout the british drill rapper ceechyna. these two are young and way too pretty to sound as mean as they do. particularly, the thing about ceechyna that just gets me is that she says some of the most fucked up shit, but because she’s british she sounds so… cute with it. it’s the inverse of scout, because he’s from boston, im absolutely certain stirred his wives into states of physical violence because of his sheer tone when reciting his vows. i also love her low effort twerking i feel like scout would twerk like that too but because he’s built like a stick that’s his best. that’s all he’s got.

soldier: i feel like i see more people argue about soldier than literally any other merc, when all this man does is rocket jump and market garden, and it really seems like players want this man dead more often than not. and because of that (and some other stuff) we’re assigning jane doe cardi b! i’ve never seen more people argue about goofy ass shit than with these two people right here! cardi has worked her ass off to get where she is, and i don’t give a single good god damn that she was robbing men blind, i just don’t. and cardi may not be eloquent, but she doesn’t need to be to pop her shit. also— cardi and glo are cousins and i love that for soldier and demo.

pyro: what woman in rap has a four letter name, is marginally off putting, and likes it that way? rico. rico nasty is damn near an unspoken force in the rap game with her openness to be her genuine self in a way that black women are not normally allowed to be seen as. and i absolutely adore her for it. go my goth baddie, go forth and kill everyone. and i feel the same way about pyro! you will always know when pyro is on the scene. they just have that aura around them. and every time i write about pyro, i rub my hands together menacingly, the same way every time rico releases a new song, i become an objectively more frightening version of the creature i already was. god i love that woman. and i love pyro. we shall go forth and make people a little more scared.

demo: GET EM DEMO! unapologetically himself, thicker than his accent, goofy as hell and ready to throw down when shit starts getting shaky, demo gets the one and only, memphis’ finest, GloRilla! i absolutely ADORE glo, because glo has worked like a DOG and deserves every ounce of praise and recognition she gets! and demo, like miss glo, has never sacrificed an ounce of himself to make it where he is now. he got where he is because of his dedication to himself! and, much like glo, he really goes great with anyone as a partner. flexible, and aggressive on a damn beat, he can go toe to toe with the best of them!

heavy: y’all already know he’s getting cupcakke right. we all know this? cupcakke is an unspoken, yet insanely influential giant in the industry, and frankly, past some of these ladies, is one of the first women you think of when you think of women in rap. independently funded, and aggressive on a beat, a class and play style like heavy will have anyone turn an eye in interest. and all cupcakke does is post her outfits, write her raps, and mind her business. and i think it can be said for heavy that all he’s trying to do is eat his sandwich, shoot his gun, and mind his business. it’s just that the teams business is now his business too.

engineer: young. rich. bitch. with something to prove. this bee cave native gets the houston native monaleo! engie, like his fellow texan, i feel is so kind, and so sweet and uplifting to his team that they forget this man has a whole ass shotgun in his inventory, and can, and will shoot someone fucking dead. this man is not one to play with! do not let his smile and his charm fool you, he is not a bitch and he will ABSOLUTELY call you out in the streets for a brawl! and he’ll tell you that! you are welcome to have an issue with him, but if you want to talk about it, you better bring it directly to him!

medic: i SAW THIS MAN at the hot girl summer tour. he was IN THE PIT watching megan shake ass in 4K 1080P and he was eating that shit up! anyways, the doctor does get houston’s crown jewel, megan thee stallion! tall, gorgeous, a cultural cornerstone, well traveled, educated, humorous, beautifully built with brilliant smiles and frankly, just not glazed enough for me. these two have me clocking in to my krispy kreme shift with how hard i’m glazing. also, every time megan says her name i hear “medic”, and that does not help. this man is a genuine menace to anyone not on his side, and megan is not known for taking her foot off of bitches’ necks.

sniper: this honorary aussie gets the steadily and deservedly rising star doechii! i’ve been following doechii since she/her/black bitch, and doechii has literally always been Her. same way sniper has always been Him. ESPECIALLY with the release of alligator bites never heal, doechii is able to do something i don’t think hardly any other rapper does, which is be genuine about the mental state she’s in at almost… all times, it seems. and i think if you ask snipes “how are you, really?” he would be equally honest. and her ability to switch flow is stunning. same way anyone who can actually play sniper and play him well im dropping trowel for.

spy: flo milli shit, bitch! spy has got to get one of the ladies that had what can only be called a meteoric rise to stardom, flo milli! this alabama native is truly a rap girl who found her lane and rides it until the wheels fall off. a certified hit maker, i feel like flo is truly in her bag as a feature. a lovely support to a rapper who is already aggressive on a beat, she’s almost laid back. effortless, even, in her ability to go toe to toe with her peers, and her seniors. truly a stunning woman for this stunning specialized mercenary.

[exhaustedpirate]

fire engine red

my entry for day 5 of @bucktommyfluffebruary the buckley-kinards have a small mishap before a very important event - piper is a safe haven baby (from my previous work "on waking up beside you") and she was adopted by married buck and tommy three years after that (she was given back by another family) and they have been a family since then!

rated G | 497 words also on AO3

Tommy could do laundry in his sleep.

Maybe that was the problem.

Maybe that’s why he was now holding the shirts they were supposed to wear for Piper’s saxophone recital and they were red.

He must have accidentally left her fire engine red pyjama shirt inside the laundry basket. 

Maybe drying them would solve it? 

Tommy sighs. It didn’t.

He was now holding two warm and still very red shirts while standing by the washing machine, maybe hoping for some belated superpowers to turn them back to white. He would have been such a useless superhero.

“Tom? Babe?” 

Oh god.

Tommy turns to Evan at the doorway still holding the red shirts making his husband’s eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes before he gives up with a sigh. “They’re red.”

“A-Are those the shirts for Piper’s recital?”

Tommy bites his lip as he nods. 

“Damn.”

“Laundry, Evan, I screwed up laundry.” Tommy hides his face with the so-very red shirts.

“Tommy, it’s-”

Piper’s heavy footfalls stop as she slides onto Evan’s side. “Dad, dad! Chris called and he wants-” Her eyes land on the red shirts and Tommy’s embarrassed face peeking out from over them. “Wow, those are really red.”

Tommy groans and hides his face again, not even the warmth and sweet smell of laundry can make him feel better.

“Yeah, P, something red got into the wash with the whites and stained the whole thing.” Evan explains and his tone is soft, not judgemental and yet Tommy feels the shame.

“Are those for my recital tonight?”

“Yeah.” Tommy grumbles.

He hears Piper’s giggle and comes out of his Tropical Sunset-scented cocoon to watch as his daughter covers her mouth to poorly conceal her giggles and Evan’s lips curling up in that beautiful teasing smile Tommy loves so much.

“What?”

“This just came through the group chat,” Evan explains, turning the screen of his phone to him while Piper hugs his side. It’s a picture of Christopher holding a very red shirt while covering his face with the other hand. “It seems the Buckley-Kinards aren’t the only ones with laundry mishaps.”

Later that night, the row reserved for Piper’s family stands out among any other. 

From Eddie, Christopher, Tommy and Evan’s red shirts under their dark blazers; to the thrifted red blazer and tie Howie found last minute; to the red tight dresses from Athena and Maddie; to Hen’s red pinstripe trousers; to Karen and Mara’s matching red flowing dresses; to Bobby’s red tie; Denny’s red sweater, May’s red pantsuit and Harry’s red hoodie. 

There are amused whispers, photos and giggles, and in the middle of it all Tommy and Evan looking proud as Piper waves wide at the fire engine red row in the audience, almost hitting her friend with her saxophone in her excitement, before pointing.

“That’s my family!” 

“Where?” One of them teasingly asks, creating a wave of giggles that triggers the audience’s own laughter.

Sometimes, the best memories happen by accident.

i know that the clothes would technically turn pink BUT i had already written this before i realised that and I really like the pun in the title so pls, suspend your disbelief with me!

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — yonsei

SEMI-QUALIFIERS: Seoul's Univeristy of Multi-Arts (SUMA) VS. Yonsei University

WARNINGS ; mentions of cheating, sports injury, mentions of sexual acts, toxic relationships, love bombing, manipulation, borderline physical abuse, implied threats of suic*de (6.5k)

the last time jimin had played yonsei in her own gym, she had torn her acl.

it wasn't anyone's fault but her own. she hadn't slept or eaten properly since she had found out about her dad's infidelity. she threw herself into training and conditioning harder than she should've, and she could see the rubber on her shoes starting to come off, but didn't have the heart to ask for a new pair while her parents were sorting things out.

she knew what the risks were, she just never thought it would've happened to her.

jimin heard the pop before she felt it, and it replayed in her mind like some sick melody. it played on repeat as she got into the car. it lulled her to sleep after the surgery and it kept her awake the night before physio.

jimin wondered if her parents would still be together if her injury never happened, if she'd still get the girl in the end.

but it didn't matter now that she could hear the drums beating inside the changing room, shaking the trophy case inside victor's hall.

jimin was gonna ruin yonsei, just like they ruined her.

y/n could feel the bass shaking her insides like gelatin.

she had almost forgotten how big of a sport volleyball was. she was so used to the flashiness of football, and the pace of basketball that it was hard to remember the sport existed without a constant reminder of it.

volleyball was silent, but it held an intensity that she couldn't ignore. there always seemed to be an energy surrounding the sport, and stepping inside the gym, she could feel the tension hanging in the air, like smog entering her lungs. the dread and excitement overtook her senses and paired with the nervousness that she was feeling, y/n felt like she was going to explode.

"i can't breathe." y/n held onto the edge of the bench, gripping it like her life depended on it.

"you'll be fine." minju whispered, patting the younger's back as the loud crowd tried their best to out-cheer each other. "just focus on wonyoung."

yuri nodded, holding a yena cut out as she leaned over. "it's not like jimin could say no."

"oh shit," chaewon butted in, her cut-out of yena waving in the air like a flag. "you're breaking up with jimin?"

rei perked up. ever since wonyoung had found out about her whole 'speech' (she had made rei recite it to her to the best of her abilities), the middle blocker had completely shut her down when it came to anything related to y/n and her.

her only source had become jiwon, but recently, an ugly feeling had settled in her chest whenever she spoke about it.

"you are?" the japanese girl's eyes widened. "does wonyoung know?"

minju looked over to her sister, watching as the younger kim's smile slowly faded. if rei didn't get the message from their first talk, minju was glad to do it again.

"i don't think you should care this much, naoi." minju snarled.

"sunbaenim," rei cleared her throat. "with all due respect-"

minju rolled her eyes. it was almost comical how rei thought she had a say in anything related to jiwon, especially after she tore her heart into a million pieces and scattered them around.

"with all due respect, you can shut the hell up." minju glared before earning a slap from chaewon. she turned to her with a pout. "what?"

"be nice."

"but-"

"be nice." chaewon looked at her before smiling sweetly, her cheeks rosy from the heat of the gym. "please?"

minju couldn't help but nod, feeling herself nearly melt into a puddle on the ground.

the student council vice president turned around, bowing slightly with a faint blush on her cheeks. "sorry, rei."

"damn," yuri chuckled behind the cut-out of her girlfriend's face. "chaewon-unnie's got you pussywhipped."

minju gave y/n a pat on the back, rubbing it in soft circles as she scowled at her roommate. "i'm gonna choke you until you pass out."

"woah," yuri held up her hand, using the other one to pass y/n her cold water bottle. "that's yena's job?"

it took everything in minju not to strangle the girl sitting two spots from her. she needed to put up a good front for her girlfriend, and as annoying as yuri was, she knew that her constant teasing was a way to ease y/n and make everything feel normal.

the truth of the matter was they were all terrified. jimin was volatile, almost heartless when it came to y/n's safety, and they didn't know how well she was going to take the break up.

the fluorescent lights stuttered before coming to a close. the entire gym, both blue and red, stood up and cheered, shaking their banners as the drums on both sides began to beat louder and louder. y/n could feel the rhythm reverberate in her chest, her palms sweating as if she were the one playing tonight.

she kept her head down, her breath shallow as she thought of every possible scenario in her head.

she had to do this now. y/n didn't know if she had enough life in her to keep being with jimin.

love was supposed to be hard, not horrible.

"the lights are dimming..." jiwon spoke softly, looking at the top of the bleachers as suma's av club readied the spotlight. "does that mean they're coming out?"

y/n looked up, her eyes scanning the court before stopping on a familiar face.

"is that minjeong-unnie?"

the girls looked across the gym, watching as a minjeong-like figure walked in nervously with two girls in tow. her head was down, and she was wearing surprisingly nice attire considering who she was watching.

"i thought she didn't get tickets?" minju muttered, her mind trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

yuri shrugged. minjeong had always been secretive, especially as of late. "that's what she said, but she's next to aeri and alex."

y/n watched as her nerves tripled. she didn't know if she could handle minjeong being in the same vicinity as her when she broke up with jimin later. anything could happen, and it made her gut wretch in terror.

"you think they're finally together?" chaewon smiled, remembering the two when both of them were just freshmen.

"i hope so." yuri muttered, trumpets sounding in the background as a group of (self-designated) fangirls held open a paper banner. "otherwise, i filed a noise complaint on a ghost."

alex was a good next-door neighbor. she would occasionally give them extra food, and considering she and yena were close friends, paid no mind to the loud noises that were coming out of yuri and minju's dorm.

unfortunately, aeri seemed to be the loudest out of all of them.

the drums beat harder, the rhythm of both sides merging into one, as if it was a well-taught tradition that had been passed down from generation to generation. y/n could feel her heart syncing to each thump, and she could hear the blood rushing to her ears as the screams got louder and louder.

behind the sparkly banner, the faint outline of ahn yujin could be seen, shaking all her nerves away as she took a deep breath. she could see the scattered faces of her teammates across the sea of people, and the crests of red invading her eyes.

with a bounce in her step, she ran through the fragile poster, ripping it as the spotlight made its way onto her.

the crowd roared.

jiwon cheered along with the crowd, standing up with all her schoolmates. her hand twitched as she felt something cold grasp for her hand.

"rei?"

kim jiwon was beautiful.

"i'm sorry."

jiwon looked down, and rei could feel the heat of her cheeks, and the warmth of jiwon's fingertips.

"for what?"

for everything.

the crowd roared once more.

wonyoung had many dreams.

at the age of five, her dream was to be a knight in shining armor, helping the pretty princesses down and slaying the big scary dragon. at ten, she wanted her parents to stop yelling at each other, to at least pretend that they were a happy family.

and at thirteen years old, when wonyoung first watched jimin during her high school tour, she dreamt of one day playing alongside her idol.

"watch where the fuck you're going."

idols were meant to stay idols, no matter how much you looked up to them.

it had been the first set, in favor of yonsei.

suma hadn't been sloppy. they had been playing better than usual. their receives, thanks to chaeryeong and yena, had been perfect, and their reads had been accurate. jimin and wonyoung had been playing well alongside each other, the two performing like a tight-knit duo, stopping any spike that would get in the way.

but it wasn't enough to go against a well-polished team like yonsei.

"time out!" wonyoung could tell that her coach was stressed, her voice straining over the crowd. "time out!"

the whistle blew, and the girls hurried as they gathered on the sidelines.

"take a breather." seulgi muttered, clutching the board in her hand. "you girls are doing well. i'm proud of you."

if wonyoung hadn't been so tired, she would've cried on the spot.

"yujin." seulgi turned to the captain, her eyes boring into the students as she whispered. "what do you notice about yonsei right now?"

"um," yujin took a sip of her gatorade, stretching her shoulder. "they jump really fucking high."

seulgi nodded, tightening her grip on the board. quickly, she flipped it over, taking out her dry-erase marker and scribbling on the edge.

"chaery, i need you and yena to stay in the back as much as you can." seulgi marked the corners of their side of the court. "don't worry about receiving so close. all they do is hit as hard as they can."

chaeryeong nodded, earning a light tap on the butt from yena. the taller girl rolled her eyes, giving a playful smile at her defensive specialist.

"yujin, i need you to stay close to the middle, okay?" seulgi looked at suma's captain, yujin's eyes hardening to a serious look. "gaeul needs someone with her just in case they tip again."

the opposite hitter nodded. they needed this win. she wasn't gonna get the girl on a loss.

seulgi turned to gaeul, and the setter could feel her nerves kicking it, trying to guess what she had to adjust before her coach had said it out loud.

"gaeul, just keep doing what you're doing." seulgi smiled. she could always depend on the third year to be consistent. "don't be scared of their height. they're tall and they're fast, but they're fucking dumb as rocks."

gaeul nodded, avoiding yujin and yena's teasing eyes.

seulgi turned to the remaining two, both of whom had their eyebrows furrowed into a ball of frustration.

she sighed, looking at the other teams domineering height. there was no way jimin could out-jump them, even in her peak condition.

"jimin, switch positions with wonyoung." seulgi sighed. she hadn't trained wonyoung to be anything but a middle blocker the entire season, but she all she needed was that gut feeling to solidify her choice. "we need that extra height in right now, and i can tell your knee is starting to bug you."

jimin gawked.

"you want me to be middle?"

she had worked hard for her position. for her title. she was the 'ace of korea'. she was suma's ace, jimin was their outside hitter. without her, they would be nothing.

"coach," wonyoung swallowed. "i haven't played outside at all this season."

seulgi winced, listening to the whistle blow in the background.

their time out was done.

jimin had the speed. she had the finesse. she was everything that seulgi should've needed right now, but the ace was quick to anger, and a simple block could ruin her whole game.

wonyoung, on the other hand, was slightly slower than jimin. her hand would drop just a little too late for seulgi's liking, and she always seemed to get to her spot a millisecond later than she should.

but wonyoung had the drive, and she had the power jimin seemed to lack.

that was everything seulgi needed right now, and then some.

"i said what i said." the whistle blew one more time, one last warning to the girls before they scattered to their spots. "now, hurry the fuck up, and don't stress. we got their asses."

jimin glanced at wonyoung with a sneer.

the girls took their places, yujin hovering close to the middle as yena and chaeryeong stayed back. jimin stood next to wonyoung, their arms ready for the ball. gaeul glanced at them, ignoring the swirl of anxiety laced in wonyoung's eyes. she turned, waiting as the other team took possession of the ball.

the whistle blew, setting the ball in motion. the crowd came to a hush as yonsei began to serve.

"one point!"

jang wonyoung was a hero in suma's eyes.

she had done what hwang 'free fall' yeji and yoo 'the ace of korea' jimin couldn't do at the finals last year.

wonyoung had taken down yonsei with her barehands.

she looked at her hand, red and stinging as she played through the events of the game. each rally, she found herself spiking harder than before, slamming the ball down as hard and as sharp as she could.

it felt right. it felt like her.

she had been a little shorter than the girls on the other team, but she jumped just as high. her form was a little rusty, but by the start of the third set, wonyoung had got into a groove that she didn't know she had.

it didn't matter if the other team tried to block her. it was the fact they couldn't.

wonyoung's spike kept ripping through their hands, like a sledgehammer through drywall. every time they had gotten a read on her, she would swing with every emotion she felt. all the pent-up anger and sadness came flowing out like a river.

she couldn't care less about the surprise that was etched on her coach's face, or the slight fear that jimin had harbored each time wonyoung had jumped in the air.

she was tired of idolizing someone who couldn't give a shit about her. she didn't want to play like someone she wasn't, someone who let their emotions control them.

she was jang wonyoung. volleyball was her sport, and she was gonna play it like a dance.

suma had won three sets in a row. 3-2.

her teammates cheered as she sat outside the multi-purpose room, smiling and thanking every passerby who congratulated her for her game.

yujin stepped outside, looking around before her eyes met wonyoung's slumped figure.

"wonyoung." yujin could look for gaeul in a second. "you good?"

"unnie," wonyoung could feel the tears threatening to spill out of her throat. "i played so bad..."

yujin wanted to smack her across the face. she would kill to play the way wonyoung had, yet here she was, sulking for some unknown reason as their team celebrated their victory.

(inside, seulgi had gotten water gunned by yena and hanni at least four times.)

"no, you didn't." yujin sat next to her friend. "you don't even play outside. you demolished them, wonyoung."

the captain gave wonyoung a look, and her tears overflowed and didn't look as if they were stopping soon.

"you did well." yujin nudged the younger girls shoulder. "we won."

wonyoung could hear the music from the gym, her eyes clenched tight as she kept track of all the faces she saw.

uchinaga aeri had looked at her, nodding along with furrowed eyebrows each time jimin slammed the ball down. shin ryujin had stood up during one of chaeryeong's serves, yelling at the top of her lungs as she got her sixth service ace. l/n y/n, beautiful as ever, cheered for her, and only her.

but then there was jang jiyoung, standing emotionless in the crowd.

"we didn't win enough."

("you didn't win by enough. how do you think your father will feel about this?")

"is this about something else?" yujin frowned, wonyoung's phrasing suddenly sparking deja vu. "do you want me to stay? i'll talk to gaeul-unnie on a different day."

"no." wonyoung wanted anything but. "i'm fine."

yujin sighed. "wonyoung-"

"i know you used to like me, unnie." wonyoung muttered, her watery eyes opening to meet yujin's. "and i know that gaeul-unnie still thinks you do."

the older girl looked away with a blush, too embarrassed to look at her best friend. she always knew her feelings were loud, and deep down she hoped that wonyoung would've never found out.

wonyoung glanced at the washroom door. she wasn't gonna let yujin mess up again.

"don't keep her waiting, unnie."

slowly, yujin stood up, her eyes trained on wonyoung's figure. she didn't want to leave the girl alone, but something told her that a simple talk wasn't going to fix whatever wonyoung was thinking at that moment.

"call me if you need anything, yeah?"

wonyoung nodded, listening to her captain's footsteps as they entered the washroom.

when was jang wonyoung ever going to be enough?

"jimin!"

the locker room door opened with a loud thud, and the uchinaga hugged a shirtless, sweaty yoo jimin.

"hey, aeri." jimin sighed before looking at the girl accompanying the heiress. "baek."

aeri frowned. she figured that jimin would be in a sour mood after switching positions (at least that's what alex told her), but she didn't think she would be so pissed.

"minjeongie is outside, i think." aeri smiled, trying to calm the volleyball player down. "she'll be here in a bit."

jimin rolled her eyes. the last person she wanted to see was the girl who was in love with her girlfriend.

she turned to alex, face stoic as she put on a sweater.

"why is she here?"

"i have a name," the former player scoffed, her eyes hardening. "you don't even have the outside position anymore, yet you still have the audacity."

jimin took a step towards the shorter girl, and alex swore that she could feel her hand itching to slap the ace across her perfectly sculpted face.

aeri stepped in between the two, looking between the both of them as she pleaded, "can't you guys just try to get along?"

"babe," alex interjected in a serious tone. "she told the coach i was sleeping with yeji."

"because you were!"

jimin tried to push through aeri, but the uchinaga held her ground.

"no i wasn't you, dumb fuck," alex could feel her blood boiling, and if she didn't love aeri so much, she would've socked jimin square in the face. "you'd think you'd have brains in there somewhere."

"aeri." jimin clenched her eyes shut. "can you please get your girlfriend out of here?"

"babe," aeri smiled, batting her eyelashes. "can you wait outside?"

alex placed a soft kiss on aeri's cheek before sparing a glare at her former friend.

"gladly."

alex walked out, the door closing with a slam as the tension in the air lifted.

two years ago, if jimin had found out that she hated her childhood best friend, she would've thought of it as a lie, but now, she wished nothing but injury on the younger girl.

"she's fucking horrible."

"no, she isn't." aeri rolled her eyes. "jimin, can't you just forgive her?"

jimin shook her head, taking her shoes off to switch to her crocs.

aeri scratched her head. jimin was never this stubborn, especially when it came to people she loved.

"it didn't even happen when you were around."

"but she knew!" jimin shouted as aeri flinched back, not used to having jimin's voice raised at her. "she was my best friend and she knew about me and yeji."

aeri took a deep breath.

she reminded herself that jimin was currently upset, and there was no way that this angry, vile person was her best friend. this jimin was just a rare occurrence, not an ongoing phenomenon.

"no, she didn't." aeri lowered her voice, trying to control her anger. two angry people made things so much worse. still, she couldn't help but let it slip through the cracks. "yeji never told her. she never told anyone. the only reason i ever found out was because i walked into you two fucking!"

jimin looked at her with a blank face before sitting down.

"yeji never told anyone?"

jimin's voice was soft, and it was like aeri could hear jimin telling her about yeji for the first time.

"you thought she did?" aeri asked. "jimin-"

jimin looked up, wiping her eyes as she tried to shake off every thought she had of her former captain. jimin didn't need yeji burdening suma's star player, even if it still kept her up at night.

"whatever."

aeri listed to the soft sniffles of her best friend, smiling as if they were two kids playing with sand on the beach.

no matter what happened to jimin, aeri would always be proud of how tough her best friend was.

"you played well."

jimin shook her head, putting her shoes and jersey in her bag. "coach seulgi switched our positions around."

"and you still played well."

"playing well isn't good enough." jimin didn't want to lose to someone who had everything. for once, she just wanted the spotlight on her. "i have to play the best."

alex had told her about the sports mentality that she held, and the reason it was so easy for yeji to brainwash her into thinking the younger girl needed her.

she just never imagined it would affect jimin.

"jimin..."

"what aeri?" jimin scowled, hating the pity that was emitting from her best friend. "i don't want to fucking talk to you right now. you're fucking pissing me off."

but aeri was slowly starting to realize that it didn't just affect jimin, it consumed her.

"okay." aeri suddenly felt like a stranger, staring at the girl who once helped her overcome her hardships. "sorry."

"just leave." jimin sighed. "i'll call you once i've cooled down."

aeri nodded, leaving to go find her girlfriend. she wondered if jimin was ever gonna call, and aeri wondered if she was willing to answer a stranger.

minjeong could spot y/n from any distance you'd give her.

it didn't matter if the younger girl was on the other side of the world. minjeong would find a way to her.

she was y/n's until the end of time.

"y/n." minjeong gripped her wrist softly, stopping the girl before she entered victor's hall.

"minjeong-unnie."

minjeong could blush every time the younger girl said her name.

she looked around at the faces in front of her, stopping at one she didn't expect.

"why is rei here?" minjeong remembered the pale look the girl had the last time she was around minju.

"my question exactly." the older kim muttered, before getting a soft thwack on her arm. "what?"

chaewon frowned. "i told you to behave."

minju pouted. there was no way she could go against her girlfriend's wishes, even if she tried.

"what are you doing here?" minjeong turned to y/n, her eyes filled with anxiety. "you didn't tell me you were gonna watch jimin's game."

"i didn't." minjeong sighed in relief, watching as yena came barreling down to lift yuri in the air. "i watched wonyoung's."

"oh shit?" yena muttered before putting her girlfriend on the ground. quickly, she placed a kiss on her cheek. "what did i miss?"

"yena... baby." yuri looked at her with doe eyes, immersed in the scene that was unfolding. "shut up."

yena smiled, wrapping an arm around yuri's waist. "i love it when you tell me to shut up."

"wonyoung?" minjeong scoffed, her face scrunching up in anger. "are we really gonna fight over this again?"

y/n rolled her eyes, trying to push past minjeong. "i'm not fighting with you, unnie."

minjeong extended her arm, stopping the younger girl from entering. "why are you here?"

"why are you here?"

minjeong looked at her, a plethora of emotions flashing through her eyes.

"it doesn't matter." she shook her head, trying to dismiss all suspicions anyone had. "y/n, you better tell me right now or-"

"i'm breaking up with jimin."

yena gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand. "oh shit..."

"babe."

"sorry, baby."

"wh-" minjeong could almost scream from the excitement that rushed through her body until she looked at a looming figure standing idly next to the suma changing room. "right now?"

"yeah," y/n suddenly felt like she had been dipped in a pool of lava. "right now."

"can't you do it, like, over text?" minjeong could feel like she was going to vomit. she didn't want jimin anywhere near y/n. "i don't feel comfortable knowing that she's gonna be around you when that happens. what if she hurts you?"

"she won't." y/n muttered. "i'll be fine."

minjeong shook her head, refusing to let the younger girl pass. "y/n-"

"you don't have a say in this, minjeong." y/n couldn't take it anymore. she needed to see jimin. "you aren't my girlfriend."

"oh fuck." yena gasped once more.

minjeong had known y/n for two and a half years. she stayed with her when the younger girl had gone through her break up with wonyoung, and let her cry on her shoulder through the infidelity of jimin.

it wasn't fair. it should've been her in the first place. she should've been y/n's from the start.

"fine." minjeong glared at y/n, and the younger girl almost didn't recognize the girl in front of her. "if she fucking hurts you, it's your fault. don't say i didn't try."

y/n steeled herself, ignoring the pain that spread across her chest as she pushed past her best friend.

minjeong could wait for later.

aeri could count all the times she had missed the signs of her mom's infidelity.

she remembered the texts that would pop up whenever her mom handed her her phone. she ignored the times when the older uchinaga would call her the wrong name. she even let it slide when her mother had said she was gonna meet up with some relatives, knowing full well that her mom was the only one left on her side.

aeri wondered if she had done the same with jimin.

"aeri-unnie," aeri looked up, meeting face to face with the one and only l/n y/n. "have you seen jimin?"

aeri wanted to say no, but the girl looked desperate.

"she's inside." the older girl said.

y/n bowed, aeri noticing her wiping her hands. "thank you, unnie."

the door creaked open with a gentleness that seemed familiar to the athlete inside. her tired eyes latched onto the door, finding a smaller frame entering the room.

aeri let the door close, listening closely to the conversation.

"jimin."

y/n could feel her heart beating in her ears. she wanted to melt into a pool of water, and she was willing to do anything to avoid confrontation with jimin.

the volleyball player's dark irises landed on hers, and y/n wished she had taken jiwon's offer days before.

"baby? why are you here?" jimin was angry. y/n could see the veins on her neck, and the whites of her eyes red with tears. her knuckles were bruised, and everything felt all too familiar. "what did i tell you about visiting me in here? are you fucking insane? did anyone see you go inside?"

aeri's eyes widened as she heard jimin scream through the steel door.

"jimin..."

the girl took a step towards her, her fist clenched into a ball.

"how many times do i have to keep telling you?" jimin gritted her teeth. she hated the way y/n always disobeyed her. it made her feel weak. "are you fucking stupid?"

y/n stared at her, trembling at the gaze of her lover.

she just wanted it to be over with. y/n wanted all the hurting to stop.

slowly, y/n looked up, taking in every feature jimin had. she took note of her harsh, firey eyes and how they only seemed to be filled with love at times when they were alone. she traced the scowl on the older girl's face, wondering what violent thoughts had sprung up inside her head.

y/n wondered if this was the jimin she fell in love with, or if she was just trying to find someone to stick to during her time of heartbreak.

she took a deep breath, her heart suddenly caught in her throat, but she needed to do this. if not for herself, then for her love for wonyoung.

"i'm breaking up with you."

aeri took a step away from the door, shock filling her features.

"what?"

"i should've never taken you back in the first place." y/n felt free, like this moment was hers and only hers. she could feel the breeze of the ac as jimin took a step back. "you treat me like shit. you're always insulting me. you act like you own me. you try to control who i hang out with. you even cheated on me, jimin."

jimin shook her head, scoffing at the thought of even disrespecting the girl she loved.

she wasn't her father. she was a good person.

"you're making up shit." jimin didn't want to listen anymore. she was done. "did minjeong tell you all of this?"

aeri's ears perked up at the mention of the girl. she pressed her ear closer to the entrance.

"no."

"then why?" jimin was exasperated. she's been nothing but good. she did everything and more. what more did y/n want? "because honestly, i treat you better than anyone ever has. i was there for you. i helped you, y/n."

y/n just wanted to go home. she didn't want to explain every single thing jimin had done wrong in the past eight months of their relationship.

but she let her anger get the better of her.

"you're a horrible person, jimin." y/n clenched her jaw, taking a shakey breath. "and i can't love a horrible person."

"i..." jimin was a good person. she had to be because that meant her pain was worth something, that she was able to be saved, and good people like jimin deserve to have a good life.

she couldn't be like yeji. it was impossible. she couldn't be like her father.

"baby." tears started to pour down jimin's face before she realized what was happening. "no, please."

jimin took a step forward, her eyes seemingly flowing nonstop.

she had never felt this much pain in her life, not when she had ripped her tendon in half, and not when her father didn't want her anymore.

she was supposed to get the girl. she was supposed to get her girl.

"i'll be better! i'll change." jimin's body shook as if everything she had held back had burst through. she wasn't gonna lose the one good thing in her life. "please, we can go to couple's therapy. i'll even pay for it myself."

y/n could feel her heart clenching at the sight of her now ex, sobbing and breaking down in front of her.

any other time, she would've taken her back, letting jimin repeat the cycle over and over again, just to feel loved by someone similar to wonyoung.

but y/n didn't know if she had any life left in her.

"jimin..."

"you can't break up with me!" jimin gripped her wrist, shaking her head as she continued to blubber. "please! i love you."

y/n wanted to love her back, but she wasn't jimin's anymore.

she never was.

"i'm sorry."

"please!" jimin's grip tightened, and she felt like she was begging her parents to stay together for her sake all over again. "i've done so much for you. all i'm asking is for you to love me back. baby, please."

y/n could feel everything.

she could feel the thrum of the ac, and the fading cheers of the students outside. she could hear muffled talking through the vents, and the socks on her feet.

she could also feel how tight jimin's grip had gotten, even tighter than minjeong's at the uchinaga's party.

"jimin," y/n gripped the older girl's wrist, trying to pry her away. panic burst through her chest. "let go of me."

"i love you." jimin shook her head, dead set on not letting y/n go. "i only love you. please, baby. you're my everything. i can't live without you."

any other day, y/n could read between the lines, but jimin's grip was tightening more and more.

"let go, jimin." y/n felt the older girl squeeze at her words.

"what am i supposed to do?" jimin asked sincerely, as if she was doing nothing wrong. "baby, i need you. please."

"jimin, seriously!" y/n bit the bottom of her lip. jimin's blunt nails were starting to dig into her wrist. "it hurts!"

the door slammed open, yena leading the charge with yuri (holding a cardboard cutout of yena), minju, and chaewon.

yuri set the cardboard down slowly, leaving it in the corner as yena approached jimin.

"leave her alone, you walking std."

"yena-unnie." jimin smiled as she saw her teammate. there was finally someone on her side, someone who would understand her.

yena put a hand on her shoulder.

"she said to let her go, dude." yena shook her head. "just do it."

jimin could feel the betrayal setting in her chest. she didn't understand why everyone was suddenly ganging up on her. she had done nothing wrong except love the girl. perhaps she had been mean at times, but she still loved her.

"but, unnie..." jimin looked at y/n who winced lightly. "i love her. you don't understand."

yena shook her head, grabbing jimin's wrist. her actions only prompted the volleyball star to grip onto her harder, making y/n yelp out in pain.

rei and wonyoung had come running into the room, the outside hitter still dressed in her jersey except for a pair of sweats that she wore over her spanx.

she looked over to y/n a grimace covering her face. wonyoung looked down as her eyes darkened in anger.

she walked toward jimin, her nails digging into the older girl's shoulder.

"back the fuck off, jimin."

jimin winced, letting y/n's wrist go to grip wonyoung's.

wonyoung had held back. she knew how messy it would've gotten if she decided to beat the living shit out of jimin (she could only thank yunjin for doing it a month before).

the ace glared. wonyoung was disrespectful as she was shit at the game.

"don't fucking talk to me like that."

wonyoung had hated using her student body president privilege. she hated how others looked up to her, not knowing that she had sacrificed her time, her relationship, and her life for a header on her future resume.

but jang wonyoung hated yoo jimin more.

"back off, or i'll tell the dean."

wonyoung gave jimin a shove, sending her flying backward towards a bench. the taller girl looked at y/n's wrist, suddenly reminded of that stupid party where everything had hit the fan.

"y/n!"

y/n whimpered, looking at the crescent creases on her skin. "minjeong-unnie..."

"is it wonyoung and friends today or something?" jimin stood up, glaring at the older girl looking at her with worry laced in her eyes. "i didn't take you for a fucking simp, yena."

there were many things that jimin called yena; stupid, idiot, a fucking rock who couldn't jump if she tried, but the older girl wasn't gonna let it slide when it came to her girlfriend.

"i'm your sunbae." yena muttered, holding back the urge to spit at jimin. "speak to me like that again and you'll see what happens."

(yuri covered her mouth to squeal.)

"what the hell is going on in here?"

yujin stood at the door, hair messy and pissed off, next to a disheveled kim gaeul and a very flustered kim jiwon. the captain hated getting interrupted doing important things.

"holy shit?" yena looked at the dark marks scattered along yujin's collarbone. "did you just fuck someone?"

"i-" yujin blushed. "it doesn't matter. jimin-sunbaenim, finish getting changed somewhere else. i don't want to ask again."

jimin gritted her teeth, only relenting to the one person who had more power than her. she grabbed her stuff, slamming the door closed, ignoring aeri in the process.

"are you okay?" wonyoung turned to y/n, watching as minjeong tended to her injury.

"yeah." y/n could almost laugh. despite how bad it hurt, it left a much lighter mark than minjeong's did.

perhaps minjeong was stronger than jimin.

"let's go get ice for your wrist."

y/n had never felt more safe next to anyone.

"okay."

minjeong stared at the pair, ignoring aeri watching her every move.

"i'll go with you."

she had missed everything.

aeri felt like she should've stayed and helped instead of running to go find minjeong.

she had never dealt with someone as strong as jimin, and it sickened her to think that her best friend could potentially hurt her if she had tried to stop it.

the uchinaga looked at the group, huddled around the actress. to the side, she saw wonyoung, staring lovingly at y/n.

"is she okay?"

"aeri-unnie, hi." wonyoung smiled, tilting her head. "she should be. it doesn't look that bad."

"how long have they been together?" aeri cleared her throat, her eyes landing on minjeong's figure. "jimin and y/n, i mean."

wonyoung knew it like the back of her hand. she knew the exact date that jimin had asked her newly-ex out, right in front of their dorm blasting some stupid love song about how in love she was with her.

(wonyoung could've picked a better song. she would've done a dance number too, but whatever.)

"since april second of last year." it's been so long since her and y/n had broken up. "they broke up for like a day last month... and they got back together again."

aeri could feel the nausea bubbling up in her throat. she needed to find alex before minjeong realized she was there. fast.

she turned to wonyoung to bid her goodbye, only to find the girl sulking.

aeri raised an eyebrow. she couldn't have been this dense, right? "do you like her?"

liking l/n y/n was an understatement.

"i guess you can say that." wonyoung smiled, looking at yujin's arm wrapped around gaeul's waist and wishing it was her and y/n.

aeri nodded, too frantic to reply as she texted her girlfriend. she understood how wonyoung felt at that moment, but the guilt was starting to eat her up.

she didn't understand why she couldn't see the signs,

kim minjeong was never jimin's girlfriend.

y/n was.

masterlist | next

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[justevelynnnn]

Hi, sorry to disturb you. I don't know if you take requests, but if you do. Can you do a part 2 to Mr. Scott Summers plz. Hope you're having a good day or night and happy holidays

🤍 Thank you for asking, and you’re not disturbing! I actually like getting requests because my ideas run thin a lot of the time…

🤍 Mr. Scott Summers pt. 2 🤍

Summary: You’re confronted about the note you passed in class…

Warnings: A bit suggestive in the middle but that’s all

A/N: This is a bit short because i don’t really know where to go with this story. Sorry 😭 There’s a direction I wanna take that I’m a bit nervous about, but if a third part is requested I might do it. I also wrote this in one sitting.

Part one here 🤍

When the class ended, you stayed behind like you were told. No running now. The girl you passed the note to got a quick talking to at the door by Mr. Scott. Then after she left, it was just you and him.

He cleared his throat again and motioned you to come to his desk with the “come hither” motion. You blushed wildly at this, it was ridiculous how easy it was for him to get your heart to flutter and your stomach to backflip.

You slowly approach his desk preparing for the worst. It’s probably going to be detention for a month. Maybe even a lecture about how inappropriate you were being with the note and how he’s trying to work on things with Mrs. Summers, also who you knew as the one and only Jean Gray. Maybe she was listening or watching the whole time somehow through your teacher using her telepathy? Damn, you felt so screwed right now.

“Ms. Y/n…”

His soft but strong voice causes you to look up. Your eyes met the red lenses of his glasses and though you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt his gaze. You almost felt… small.

He grabs the note and stares at it again, possibly rereading it. Then he adjusts his glasses and you swore you could see his face redden a bit.

“Can you….explain this? This note…” Scott asked.

You look at your feet now blushing. He’s just so close and his cologne, now more faint, filled your nostrils.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Summers…”, You began.

“Sorry, for what?”

Surprised, at his curious tone, like he was confused, you look up again. “For….what I wrote in the note? About you?”

“Right, about how you want to…what did you say..? “Kiss my delicious, full, rosy lips?” Hm?” He recalled and then smirked.

You freeze hearing him recite what you wrote. That smirk made it no better. You couldn’t respond because your brain literally short circuited. It’s sounds so much more lewd out loud…

“Or, what about how, “Mr. Summers ass looks so good in those khakis.” ??”.

You respond quietly still avoiding eye contact, “Um…yes..all of that..”

“I’m flattered.” He chuckled now crossing his arms…those strong, strong arms. You’re so busy admiring his forearms that you barely register his words.

Wait, did this man seriously say he’s flattered??

He laughs again to himself, unconsciously licking those full lips of his, and says really more to himself, “Jean’ll find this hilarious..”

“She’s not in your head right now…? Already?” You ask nervously.

You and some others were well aware of their telepathic connection. How, sometimes, Mr. Summers quietly talks to Jean out loud as if she’s in the room when she’s really in his head.

“No…not now at least…” Scott looks away. “We’ve been having issues.”

It was enough to stop you from pushing further, though you were still very curious what he meant. Issues… does she want nothing to do with him? Are they dine being in a relationship? You wondered about all the possibilities why Jean couldn’t stand to be in his head right now, even to just check in.

“Oh, sorry to hear that Mr. Summers…” You say quietly. You felt that was the best response.

A moment passes and he takes a breath. You’re now focused on the clock ticking on the wall and the veins in his hands, the ring on his finger and his slightly tight button down once more.

“Y/N…. You know this can’t happen again right?” Scott says quietly. There’s a serious tone to it.

You just nod and bite you lip, nervously playing with the hem of your mid-thigh length plaid skirt. Unbeknownst to you, Scott watches this.

“But, Mr. Scott..you said you were flattered..?” You give him a playful coy smile as you watch his cheeks reddening once more.

Scott couldn’t lie and say he hasn’t been feeling a certain type of way himself…it was so wrong especially with the power dynamic and how he’s been trying to make it up to Jean nowadays. Prove he’s better. But the way your innocence shines through from time to time… or how your skirts always complimented your figure. Hell, he hasn’t felt this way since Emma…

He frowns. “Um…well…it’s still a bit unprofessional…I am your teacher you know.”

You nod again.

“So, no more notes.. alright?”

“Yes..I’m sorry..”, You apologized but still with a slight smile on your face.

He lets you off with that warning only and throws away the note. You’re almost relieved of it despite still being a bit embarrassed about the whole situation.

After that day, you were more careful. You texted instead of note passing and only when Scott’s back was turned. You still would fantasize about him and his features and attributes. You’d watch the news whenever the Xmen were being interviewed or shown fighting, only caring to see Cyclops in action. He was just so fine. The way he spoke when interviewers would come to the mansion demanding answers yet again swooned you. He was so intelligent and mature. A leader.

You wish you knew how to make it stop. He was right, he’s your teacher. You felt guilty about thinking about him after the note incident. It’s just wrong.

But, if it’s so wrong why does it feel so good?

[mandareeboo]

Fanfic Preview: "If you could stand back (I used to say that)"

Title: If you could stand back (I used to say that)

(Beta) Summary: Stone becomes the worst music teacher in history, has a brush with an old rival, and might just be becoming worth a damn again.

They're all snuggled down around the trash can fire for the night. Stone's fingers ached from plucking as he held them out to the flames. He'd been too busy to drink as much, so he was feeling a bit drug out. They'd earned a few pence that day. Almost a whole shilling. Not bad for sideshow skit.

"You know," Vinnie says into the silence. She sounds wistful and a little sad, which is so unlike her it gets both of them to sit up and listen. "I'm the only one of us who doesn't play an instrument."

Skipp and Stone trade a quick look. They both got the message.

"You can still learn!" Skipp reassures her, strumming a little. "I taught myself!"

They both look to him. Stone shrugs. He doesn't really feel the urge to explain the plethora of music teachers, recitals, and itchy suits it'd taken to get an education. Vinnie looks earnestly upset that she's missing out, however, so he reluctantly delves into the concept a little. "Harmonica. It's small, ya can't break the damn thing fer tryin', and you can be as loud and obnoxious as you want with it."

"The metal boxes with holes?"

He shrugs again. "Each hole got a noise; just gotta blow into it. And they're pretty cheap."

Vinnie winces. "What's cheap in lootbag?"

"Forty-ta-fifty cents."

She wears under her breath. "Whole ass cents- who's got half a pound in their pocket for fun? Where did Rigel and Cen get their trumpet?"

"Didn't ask," he admits, taking a slug of whiskey. "Best not to know."

[bellysoupset]

Hi Soup! For a shorter fic, I'd love to see Leo sick at work or because of something stressful at work! We've seen him sick from something that happens at work (damn cake!), but not actually not feeling well at the office - maybe because he ate too much at lunch and it's just not sitting well. Does he hide it because he's got something that needs to get finished? Does he need to go puke quickly so he can keep working? Do people realize and make him leave? Your choice. Only request is that there isn't actually any publicly embarassing throwing up - no puking in court or in the middle of a meeting. Thank you so much!

Leo was over the moon about being a Real Lawyer, as he childishly called himself. It was no secret to his loved ones just how excited he was to be able to defend cases himself, instead of running after another lawyer with all their research and watching them recite a defense thesis that Leo was pretty sure had been partially written by him.

His boss put a lot of trust in him. Sure, Mrs. Mitchell only gave him small cases so far, but she was slowly handing him more and not only were they more frequent, but the difficulty was increasing.

Thus, Leo had easily blamed the uncomfortable churning in his stomach on nerves when it started. Today he had a big court day and no matter how many times he had gone over his notes - and ranted about the case enough that Jonah was probably a liability - he still felt jittery all over.

He was the defense today, to a woman who was being accused of plagiarism by a relatively well established script writer. Normally the Hollywood cases would stay in California and Mitchell's claws, but this one was small and unimportant enough to make it to Maine. The script writer was from the state and probably thought he could play on the local's sympathies, after all he had gone out and made it.

Leo wasn't feeling very sympathetic.

He was feeling almost queasy as he looked at the smug face of the script writer, who was accusing an ex-girlfriend of almost ten years ago of "stealing" his intellectual property.

Had no one learned a thing for Fitzgerald? Or Tolstoy?

Apparently not.

"You know," Dean leaned his way, "we're in court, you might wanna brighten up a little and stop glaring bloody murder to the opposition."

"Sorry," Leo shook his head, trying to physically shake off his frown, "I wasn't glaring at him, I was just frowning, he happened to be in the way."

"Brilliant save," Dean grinned, "they're gonna call break in five."

Leo was aware of that, he was the main defense lawyer and he was actually listening to the prosecutor's flimsy claims that Gwen was a plagiarist only because she happened to use the same first name in one of her published short stories.

Leo almost wished the opposition had a decent defense of their points, so he didn't have so much time to focus on the burbling going inside his belly. The lunch he had forced down wasn't sitting well at all and little sickly belches kept bubbling up his chest and fizzling out in his throat.

He felt like his whole body smelt like the greasy burger he had eaten and like everyone could tell... His mouth was watering.

Forty minutes recess.

"They're fumbling by the seam of their pants," Dean started to tell their client, in a low, collected voice, "they have nothing, you don't need to worry."

Right, Leo thought bitterly. She was a librarian, who published exactly one book with short stories just for fun, being prosecuted by a Hollywood script writer. Sure, the man was far from being a big shot of anything, but compared to the woman's position...

"Ms. Peters, you have a solid defense, please trust us," Leo promised her calmly, "take the recess, get some coffee, it'll be a long day."

His own words were mockery to him. Normally he existed on coffee and today just the thought of drinking a drop of anything made his stomach flip on itself and he hastily got up, muffling a little burp on his fist and excusing himself. No one had heard, although Sandra did throw him a puzzled look.

"Ms. Peters," Sandy stepped in, "let's take a small walk."

Sandra, like Leo, normally was one of the lawyers with the softest touch. Usually Leo didn't have all his coworkers with him, but he had his boss sitting right behind their desk, judging his every move. It was a huge tell of respect and trust that Mrs. Mitchell had only sent his peers today, instead of coming herself. Almost as if saying go and show them how its done.

He couldn't mess this up.

"The man is a misogynistic bully," Dean continued to speak, following Leo into the public bathroom. His coworker could talk with a tree if left to his own devices, "I'm excited for your part, the evid-"

"Shut it," Leo glared at him, handing Dean his suitcase and removing his suit jacket, "hold this, please."

"No one's listening to us."

"Dean," Leo scoffed, "no. Last thing I want is for you to blow the case by lack of decorum or by giving the prosecution a ti-URP-Fuck," the larger belch that slipped into his last word caused Dean to raise his eyebrows. The other man opened his mouth, about to ask about Leo's wellbeing when the blonde turned around and entered a stall, quickly pushing the lid up and planting a hand on his chest to keep his tie in place as a chunky stream of vomit hit the water.

"WhOA! Wagner, what the fuck-"

Leo hung his head in shame, bracing his free arm against the tiled wall in front of him and panting, trying to get his stomach in check. The queasiness had been on the backburner all day, but the face-prickling, hand sweaty, mouth watery nausea had hit him like a brick and out of nowhere.

"Fuck..." He breathed out through his mouth and swallowed some air, forcing up another burp and then coughing when that brought up some more chunks- He gagged and a much more watery, acidic mouthful of vomit fell in the toilet.

"Wagner, oh my-" Dean was fretting behind him, frozen in place and stunned, "shit, are you sick? We can call for a recess-"

"No," Leo's voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat, spitting a mouthful of thick saliva and flushing, as his sudden nausea went back to the mild queasiness, "No, I'm fine."

"Fine?!" Dean was still holding his suitcase and jacket, seemingly unaware Leo had passed the items to him, "You don't seem fine, you look white as a corpse-"

"I'm fine," Leo stumbled to the sink to wash his face and gargle with water, "lunch just wasn't sitting well-"

"Oh... Are you sure...?" Dean was older than Leo by at least five years and yet he sounded like a scared teenager. Leo nodded, meeting his coworker's eyes on the mirror and patting his own pale cheeks until they were a little rosy instead of spoiled milk white.

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, then fixed his tie and reached for his jacket, "I can't go home, I have a case to win."

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 28: Achilles Heel

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

* Warnings: language, angst

* Word count: 1,867ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all

Author's note: Okay, I lied. One more because I have an uneven number queued. Then I’ll follow the rules. Scouts honor lol. 🤓 Things are starting to ramp up, Kayce and Stella are finally coming back to some kind of normalcy. It’s been rough, but we’ll get there. Also, this is shorter than normal, but it worked well for splitting these events up. I hope y’all don’t mind, I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well!

“What! You told me you ran into him!” Ryan cried out.

“Okay I bent the truth! I’m sorry. I knew if I told you that 30 minutes ago, you would have burnt the whole state of Montana to the ground!” She defended herself.

All the men moved closer to her instinctually. Rip started in on her hard. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me when I picked you up?!”

“Because I wanted to tell everyone all at once, Rip!” Was he even listening?

He came back at her even angrier. “Bullshit! Were you gonna say anything at all?!”

“Yes! My god! I’m here aren’t I?”

Kayce targeted her next. “You’re only here because your brother and I made sure you’d come talk to my dad.”

John interrupted. “All of you quit!” He locked in on Stella. “What did he want?”

“I asked him and he said something about liking my property, yadda yadda, and got insulted when I asked who he was again and told me I work for a ranch that has started to annoy people. Then read me like an open book almost to every little detail about my life.” Stella crossed her arms and shook her leg. The memory of Malcolm’s unnaturally blue eyes staring into hers as he recited her information sent a chill up her spine.

“I told him I wasn’t interested in anything he had to offer. He said I was a soft spot for people here, which I beg to differ,” she focused on the floor, “but whatever. Then he said he would be seein’ me real soon. Whatever that means.” She looked back up at John and shrugged.

“So long story short, what I wanted to say was, I’m not sure Jenkins is our culprit for those cows being dead. Somethin’ about Malcolm and his brother doesn’t sit straight with me. He was fishin’ for somethin’, but I don’t know what.” Her cheeks were flushed by the time she was finished. Stella felt like she was on trial. Especially with the way everyone just looked at her angrily and didn’t say anything. “You can choose to believe me, or not, but I’m tellin’ you right now somethin’ ain’t right.”

“Damn it.” John looked to his son. “Kayce, what did you find out from Jenkins?”

Kayce watched Stella, who focused on John. She turned her body to face the patriarch, trying to pretend she was anywhere but in the room with them. He announced. “Wasn’t Jenkins.”

Rip mumbled a cuss to himself. That meant they were dealing with a different player; and that player was bigger, and seemingly interested in Stella.

“How do we know it wasn’t him?” John asked.

“I looked him in the eye and it wasn’t him.” Kayce made direct eye contact with his dad.

“I can also attest that he wouldn’t know the first thing about cows or how to kill them.” Stella added.

She finally locked eyes with Kayce. He looked tired. “You okay?” Everyone could tell there was something deeper behind her question. Even though it seemed like she wanted to be out of any room Kayce was in.

“It went fine.”

Stella scowled at him for ignoring her actual question.

“Let me talk to my son please.” John excused the three of them. Stella wasn’t sure what was going on, but if it meant she could escape, she’d take it.

Kayce stayed behind to talk to his father. At first they talked about something Kayce had done in war that had changed him forever. His heart raced just reliving the memory. If he could go back and have it happen differently, he would in a heartbeat. Kayce wanted to leave, but John stopped him.

“What’s going on with you and Stella?”

Kayce sighed. “Nothing dad.”

“Her looking like she was about to claw her way out of the window to get away when you went in on her says otherwise.” John leaned back against his desk smugly. He was almost certain he knew what was coming.

“There is nothing going on between Stella and I. Nothing.” He tried to be stern in his answer to get his dad to stop asking. He was confused as to what was going on himself. He had fucked up. Simple as that.

John stayed quiet and examined his son. Kayce’s face was flushed, and his voice let John know he was confused. If he didn’t know any better, he would say Kayce looked like he was going to panic. He looked like he was in love. That’s how he had looked when he found Evelyn.

Kayce couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Okay fine! We slept together. So what?”

‘Ah. There it was.’ John thought to himself as he breathed out a chuckle. This wasn’t when or how he thought this conversation would come up, but he knew it would cross him one day. “And when was that?”

Kayce looked down. “A few days ago.” He refused to tell his father that it was more than once.

“And you just got back from visiting with Monica? Now I understand why she wanted to leave so badly.” John worked out. He watched as his son squirmed. “How did things go with Monica, by the way? Especially with this new,” there was no real way for him to say this delicately, “development.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it dad.”

“But you’re gonna have to sooner or later.”

“She wants a divorce.”

“What for?”

“A lot of things.”

John crossed his arms. “What are you gonna do, son? Because that woman out there has stood behind you through thick and thin. Even after you broke her, she still made sure you were okay. Didn’t like that you ignored her actual question, but she still did it.”

Kayce got frustrated and slammed his hand against the door. “I don’t know! On one hand Monica is my wife, the mother of my son, the lov—,” he stopped himself. He didn’t know if he was choked up, or if he couldn’t actually bring himself to say it.

“— But?” John interrupted.

“I don’t know, dad. I just — I don’t know.”

Making it to the door, Stella started to pick up her pace. She thought she was home free when her feet hit the porch. She would have been if Rip’s rough hand didn’t grab her elbow. Her shoulders sagged. “Listen I know you’re both angry I didn’t tell you right away, but can one more person not be mad at me today?” She looked down at the floor of the porch. “I have Ryan double mad at me, you, probably Mr. Dutton. Kayce and I are weird right now…,” she trailed off. The list could go if she thought about it hard enough.

“Yeah we noticed.” Ryan informed her crossing his arms.

Stella pulled her lips in. She hoped she had hidden it better than that. ‘Great.’

“Was it really that noticeable?”

Ryan scoffed. “You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but where Kayce was.”

“You didn’t wanna be around him the other night. You were upset about somethin’.” Rip started to put two and two together out loud for Ryan. He didn’t want to be the one to spill the beans. “Somethin’ about you broke your own heart.”

“I was really hoping that you wouldn’t have remembered that.”

“What happened between you two?” Ryan asked. Stella remained quiet with her lips pulled in. “C’mon Stell. You gotta lay it out there at some point.”

She looked out along the dark horizon line and wished she could shrink herself. It was embarrassing enough to have the thoughts run through her own head, let alone say them out loud. Especially to her brother and a man she considered a brother.

“I thought something might have changed between us, but it didn’t. I was just a hopelessly hopeless romantic caught up in my own delusion.” She moved her hands in a ‘giving up’ motion. Her voice came out more quietly than before. “It doesn’t matter.” She stepped toward the stairs. “Can we be done here? Please?”

Kayce came out of the house looking flustered. His gaze landed on Stella and both of them seemed to stop breathing. “Can I talk to you?”

Stella breathed in. “I mean, no,” she blew the breath out, “but you’re gonna keep tryin’ until I let you. So I guess.” She crossed her arms and looked at the other two men. “Can you guys give us a minute? I’ll be right behind you.”

Ryan stepped forward and Rip reached out to stop him from getting too close. He threatened the man responsible for hurting his sister. “You hurt her even more, and everything else you’re going through will be the least of your worries.” Rip grabbed his shoulder to direct him to the horses.

Stella watched them trot off. Ryan gave her one last look and she nodded to him. It was quiet behind her, and she was half expecting Kayce to be gone when she turned around. Holding her head as high as she could, she pivoted around to face him. She fixed her glasses and sniffed. “Well, let’s have it.”

Kayce got a good look at her face. She looked humiliated. He had hurt her badly. He was afraid it was past the point of repair. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too Kayce.” She looked down, sullen.

“I shouldn’t have come onto you like that. We shouldn’t have done it at all. I ruined a perfectly good friendship.”

“Yeah I know it was a mistake. Is that all you wanted to say? Because I could live without the embarrassment of hearing, let's just pretend this never happened.”

“No. I wanted to tell you Monica and I decided to co-parent, but we can’t go back to each other.”

“Okay that’s great, but now I feel dirty. Like I was just a distraction, which I mean I was. A distraction for you at my expense. I just don’t know if I can get past that.”

Unbeknownst to the two of them, John had snuck out onto his porch to hear how this would play out.

Kayce started, “I understand, but—,” and Stella interrupted him.

“— Do you really have any grounds to stand on to place a ‘but’ in there? I was blinded by the feelings I’ve had for you since we were kids and somehow, whether you realized it or not, you used it to your advantage.” Her eyes stung. “I thought I was always safe with you.” She said in a small voice. “And to find out I wasn’t, hurts. I let you past everything I had put up.” John tilted his head to the side. She had a point. “So I’m gonna go. I just wanna be left alone.” She spun around to make her way down to the bunkhouse.

Kayce stood there defeated. He knew he’d fucked up big time. If she ever talked to him again, he would be surprised. He heard footsteps on the porch. He turned and saw his dad.

“So how are you gonna make this right, son?”

“I’m gonna respect her and leave her be. I’ve already done enough damage.” He walked off and hopped in his truck.

[silvercat-the-daydreamer]

now that i have tried the remaining 4 pc98 touhous... (and not finished all of them, i was on a sort of a time limit, showing them to my friends on stream... being able to set your starting lives to a higher number is Great for just showing the games really) here's just a few thoughts and nothing special

well about 2 i'm not sure i have much to say as in the 3 hours of the stream i forgot a lot of it already, but i can say i didn't expect the jump from 1 to 2 to be so sudden, it's "this is Not regular touhou but i can see some elements of it" to "oh yeah it's definitely early touhou"

i didn't beat this one, i didn't want to go through the whole 1cc thing for the true ending, that would've taken more time than i wanted to spend on this one. pog for marisa tho, but please don't slap me with your balls :'(

touhou3 hurts my Fucking hand i don't think i'll play this one again. i did beat it and got the final boss on the first try too but i'm pretty damn sure it was bc i got really lucky. i do not have the skill for such things and this sort of 2-player touhous confuses the heck out of me anyway, just as touhou19 did when my friend streamed it

there's touhou4 which i Technically beat but it's got that baffling game design choice of "oh you're on easy mode well Fuck You you don't get the final stage" so, not really... however, with this one, i'm determined to practice and try again some other day just to see the final stage. that's for another stream. apart from that, i didn't expect eepy yuuka. kind of cute.

touhou5: *points at the final boss* it's devil's recitation baybee. just like in touhou12, that also killed the fuck out of me. also yuuka's... silly. :3 i did a run with her first where i died to the thing i just mentioned,,, and because of my Noobishness (and probably severe penalties from taking the extra lives and easy mode) the game did tell me to straight up Die which, cold, jesus-- so i tried again with reimu (mostly for the story tbh since yuuka doesn't really say much about it, just running around to beat ppl up) and beat that one Just Fuckin Barely... at least that time it didn't tell me to die. i wasn't much better but, uh hey i'll Take it

now there was something weird going on with some of the games where either they just had different controls or something was messed up with my controller keybinds, leading me to waste all of my bombs without realizing it until way later in the game in touhou3 bc i pressed the wrong button (not that i would have used them anyway, that is something i forget quite a lot), happened again in touhou5 where i at least realized it very quickly.

also since none of these games have any sort of focus mode, i get a bit worried that playing them too much would cause the habit of not using it in the games that do have it... EDIT I'VE BEEN INFORMED I JUST HAD SOME SORT OF OTHER ISSUE AND FOCUS MODE IS IN FACT A THING. WISH I'D FOUND THAT OUT EARLIER BUT OH WELL.

besides that, interesting to see how many of the games have some sort of makai related stuff. i guess then it's nice to come back to it, huh. you've been there reimu, several times...

also if i mixed anything up in the games that is because i did all of those in 3 hours and have the memory of a rotten grandma. sorry

not much else to say. bye