#and you figure out a solution before you finish talking

[marlynnofmany]

I'm still a big fan of having a written conversation with myself to work out plot points. It's like Rubber Duck Debugging, but with the bonus that it's all recorded so I can't lose my train of thought for long.

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 02

-SO I HOPE AND PRAY YOU MAKE IT WORTH IT.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊ 3.2k

author’s note ┊ YAPPEE! part two officially out- so sorry for the wait EUEUEU… hehe hope the things that happen in this chapter make up for it being a few days late :p also, i will not be accepting anymore tag list requests! this is due to the amount of users that i can tag per post T^T … nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoy the chap! happy reading :D 

p.s. i will be blocking the people who message me (rudely) to “hurry up” with the next chapters. i understand most, if not, all of you are excited to read the next chapters, but please do understand that i have my own schedule too :,)

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YOU HELD YOUR HEAD IN YOUR HANDS, GROANING INTO YOUR PALMS. In front of you sat the thorn at your side, Ken Sato. He had just finished reading- or rather, skimming through the files you had stayed up compiling. You peeked at him through your fingers before standing up to erase yet another column of pros and cons from the board. 

Taking a swig from the energy drink he had brought you, you shake your head as you try to figure out what to do next. Truth be told, you were just eager to leave. You had two weeks left until you could finally let these burdensome tasks go, all you wanted was for Ken to go along with your last few instructions so as to make your exit easier. 

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this, Ken.” You say, turning back around to face him. “You pick a girl, you ‘date’ her for a bit, and then you ‘split up’ amicably. Simple as that.” 

He tilted his head at you, a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Oh sure, yeah. Let me just go out with a random girl and act like I’m head over heels in love with her.”

“Yes, exactly that.” You reply with the same tone, going back to your seat. “Now you’re getting it!”

He rolls his eyes, placing the stapled papers back on your desk. “I get it, I fucked up. But I still don’t get why you’re so…” He pauses, pressing his lips into a thin line and gesturing with his hands. “Persistent in actually trying to get me to date someone for the sake of my screw up.”

“And I don’t get why I have to keep reminding you of why I need to do this.” You lean back into your chair while pinching the bridge of your nose. “You were the one who-”

“-’Told the entire world you were in love’, yes I know! You’ve only said that like, what, a hundred times over?” He cuts you off, crossing his arms. “I know what I did. But I also know that I have a choice in this matter, don’t I?”

You go to reply but stop when you register his words. You knew that, obviously, which is why you had multiple plans. You were giving him the chance to choose, were you not? The various notes and drafted project plans were proof of that. They were all laid out right in front of him, what more could he possibly want? You look at him briefly, your eyes scanning his expression before darting back to the things scattered atop your desk. 

“I’m giving you choices.” You say flatly, slowly looking back up at him. 

“No, you’re giving me options and expecting me to choose.” He counters, his hand gesturing towards the papers. “I’m talking about my choice. My plan, suggestion, whatever you want to call it.”

“So what is your plan? Because as far as I’m concerned, you don’t seem to actually have one.” You reply, brows slightly furrowing at his stubbornness. 

“And that’s the point. I don’t need a plan,” He pauses, pointing his finger directly onto one of the outlines and it towards you. “I just need to ride it out.”

You let out a scoff, stunned at how Ken was still treating this so lightly. The corners of your lips tug up a bit, and you end up letting out a soft laugh in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I, though?” He leans back, maintaining eye contact with you. “It’s the choice that takes the least effort. And besides, I thought you liked it when I kept things private.”

“Oh, don’t circle this back to me.” You say, pointing a finger at him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to address your little mishaps?” 

“Yes, I do. Which is why I’m trying to help you.” He says a-matter-of-factly, his eyebrows raising as if to emphasize how much he understands what your job entails. 

“No, you don’t.” You argue back, mimicking his crossed arms.

“Were you always this stubborn?” Ken says, catching you off guard. 

You feel your features scrunch up in confusion and annoyance, narrowed eyes slanting even more as this back-and-forth of yours keeps going. “You’re one to talk.” 

At that he smirks slightly, rolling his eyes as he pokes a tongue into his cheek. The audacity of this man to act annoyed. You think, all the while you continue to glare at him. You close your eyes for the umpteenth time that morning, taking in a deep breath as your nails dig into your palms. Despite wanting to calm yourself down, his words rang in your head like an unwanted mantra.

His choice.

Would it be so bad to give Ken free reign on this? Granted, he was the one who caused it. Why be the one to clean up his mess- again, for that matter? You pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head once more. You could never understand how his mind worked, and you figured you probably never would. You tapped against the desk with your pen, bouncing your leg as you pondered on what to do. 

Your plan? Everything sets sail smoothly, with only the liability being either party slips up. Which, in your defense, you could cover up in the blink of an eye. His plan? No plotline with room for spontaneous detail sharing whenever he pleased. More work for you, more freedom for him. You stopped tapping then, clicking your pen into place. In your moment of contemplation, you had realized then this entire thing was useless. His plan, your plan, all the plans. None of them mattered, not if the end result was going to be the same. 

Goddamnit, you hated Ken Sato. 

You flip one of the stapled pieces of paper over, drawing over the blank side. “The start of your first full season with the Giants is in less than fourteen days. By then we would need to have already released another press release- ideally before your conference.” 

Ken jumps slightly, caught off guard by your sudden return to work mode. He watches as you line up different keywords with boxy arrows, all of which lead up to the ‘end’ of his lie. “What exactly am I looking at?”

You flash him a smile, albeit a fake one, and slide the paper to him. “Your plan.” Leaning back in your chair, you make a show of stretching your arms. “You’re right, we should go with your plan.” 

He laughs then, noting the lingering hints of sarcasm in your tone. “[Y/N], what are you doing?”

“Giving you your choice.” You reply with a small shrug. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” He says, his smile slightly faltering. “But… why?”

“It’s your life, isn’t it?” You tilt your head to the side, your lips pressed into a thin line. 

Now it’s his turn to be confused and annoyed. The way he understood this, you were letting him win. You were waving a white flag, surrendering to his incessant pleading. He scrunched his brows, still trying to process your words. You continued to sit there, waiting eerily patiently for him to respond. 

“And you’re serious about this?” He questions once more, hesitant to believe that you of all people would back down so quickly. 

“Mhm,” You hum, fiddling with your thumbs. “I’m just your assistant. Well, for two more weeks, that is.” 

He felt like he was being played. He blinked at you, mouth slightly agape. The you that was sitting in front of him now was different from the you thirty-six hours ago. Yesterday, you were desperate for him to follow your plans. He recalled your words, ‘If you're actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.’ But now that you’re telling him to do exactly what he wants, he’s nervous. 

Nervous that he finally caused you to hate him for good. 

“If you’re done sitting there like I said something stupid, you can go. Coach wants to see the team, it’d be in your best favor not to be on his bad side two weeks before playoffs.” You say, not even looking at him directly. 

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Right, well, okay.” He stands up, sliding himself into his jacket before walking towards the door. “See you, then.”

You only hum in response, still not looking at him as you continue fixing all of the papers on your desk. Just before he’s fully out of your office though, you call out to him. 

“Yeah?” He answers immediately, peeking his head through the door. 

“Have fun riding it out.” You say, flashing him a smile. A real one, this time.

A WEEK HAD GONE BY JUST LIKE THAT. Surprisingly, Ken had been able to keep things under control. Even his comments to street paparazzis were concise, almost as if you were the one who coached him his lines. While you had expected him to do nothing, just as he suggested, you hadn’t expected him to last this long without an intervention from you. 

You sat by your window as your body sunk into your armchair, your eyes threatening to close. The early blue hues of the morning had started to break through the night sky, the clouds slowly parting to clear the sky. You typed vigorously against the keys of your laptop, eyes following the blinking cursor to prevent yourself from falling asleep right then and there. 

You had been up for hours constructing your updated résumé, keeping all your needed information concise and in one page. Despite having a well-rounded history in regards to jobs, the lingering fear of keeping yourself afloat was an inevitable burden you were scared of accidentally fulfilling. You had family, yes, but relying on them did something to your pride. Most especially since you had been low-contact ever since you abruptly moved to the city. 

Seeking help from friends was another option that was off the table. In all your years of working in the entertainment industry, the amount of people you had let into your life dwindled as you realized people’s true intentions. You had merely three people left in your life, and that was by far more than enough to keep you sane throughout the rest of your life.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. Truth be told, despite the factor of having to deal with Ken, this job has been the best in terms of your benefits. He was much like you- little circle, low-contact. Even his own team was a limited number, leaving you to deal with other jobs and tasks that would otherwise be done by different people. Yes, the workload was tiring, but the pay was enough to keep you alive ten times over. You could only say a silent prayer to whoever was listening to bless you once more once you let go of this for good. 

You sat back, finally satisfied with the way your page was laid out. You faced towards your window, closing your eyes as your breathing steadied. The birds were starting to chirp, the sun casting a foggy glow through the clouds. In this moment of solitude, you allowed yourself to relax; it was more than deserved. Not like anything could happen in your sleep, right?

WRONG, SO VERY WRONG. You groaned as you were awakened by the continuous buzzing of your phone. At first you had thought it was an alarm you had accidentally forgotten to shut off, but when it continued on, you eventually had to force yourself to wake up.

The sun was high up now, bright rays peeking through your blinds. You squinted, uncurling yourself from your chair as you got up and stretched. You yawned, scratching your head as you finally unlocked your phone. You were greeted with an endless stream of notifications, your mail app and other social media platforms pinging by the second. There was also the factor of the loud noise outside, though you made it out to be some kind of commotion or parade. 

Your screen then flashed the caller ID of an unknown number, followed by another sea of notifications. You blink yourself awake, now slightly worried at just how much texts and emails you had been receiving. Did Ken do something? Did someone die? Did Ken die?

Before you could even open any of the messages, you hear the familiar ringtone of one of your closest friends. You slide to answer, pressing your phone up to your ear. “Ami? What’s up, what’s wrong?”

She laughed, and you could practically see her shaking her head at you. “I’m guessing you just woke up? Check literally any news outlet right now, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

What the hell was going on? You mumbled something in reply, putting her on speaker as you did what she asked. 

You wished you hadn’t. In bold, bright red letters, the article’s headline read:

Extra Innings in the Press Box: Ken Sato’s Hidden Romance with Assistant Revealed! 

What you saw next nearly had you chucking your phone into the nearest wall. Attached right under the headline was you and Ken. You and Ken. You let out a curse, and you could hear the sighs coming from Ami on the other line. The picture was clearly shot from a hidden vantage point, the branches from the trees blocking the camera proof of it. Despite the distance, though, yours and Ken’s faces were clearly visible. 

“What the fuck!” You yell, now fully awake eyes wide in confusion. “When was this released? H-How did-”

“Two hours ago. Apparently some passerby sold the picture to the press, and said passerby just happened to be paparazzi.” Ami cuts you off, her tone serious yet concerned. “Trust me, if I had known something like this was going to be released, I would’ve done something about it.”

You left your phone on the kitchen counter as you paced back and forth, your hand glued to your forehead as you tried to wrap your mind around what was happening. Obviously it wasn’t true, you of all people knew that. But nobody else did, and that was the problem. 

“Ami what the hell is happening?” You manage to breathe out, still pacing. “This is all so-”

“Much? Yeah, I know.” She cuts you off again, and you can hear the bustling sounds from her office. “My own publisher is on my neck for this, God only knows what you’re going through. Are you okay? If you need help this could technically be classified as invasion of-”

“I do need help because this whole thing isn’t-” You start, but are ultimately cut off again when you hear the sounds grow louder outside. 

“[Y/N]? ‘You there?” Ami’s muffled voice calls out as you walk towards your window, peeking down to where the commotion was coming from. 

“Oh shit.” You gasp out, eyes widening even more as you realize the noises were coming from the sea of reporters and photographers waiting outside your townhouse. 

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the window with a hand to your mouth. This cannot be happening, this had to be some sick nightmare. Stumbling towards your phone, you mumbled some reply about needing to go before abruptly hanging up the call. Rude, perhaps, but Ami would understand. 

In the span of two hours of that damn article being released, eager and greedy gossip outlets had found your address and swarmed your only safe space. You held your phone close to your chest, running up to your room as you tried to catch your breath. You closed your eyes once more, breathing in and out heavily. The more you tried to convince yourself that this wasn’t happening, the more you slowly realized that it actually was. 

You opened your phone once more, muting all your socials and other messaging apps. You needed to think, and you needed to act fast. By memory, your fingers automatically scroll for Ken’s legal team. Having gotten him out of falsified defamations multiple times, acting during these types of situations was almost a second habit. But this didn’t involve just him, it involved you. You were a part of this mess, you couldn’t be the one to solve it.

A mantra of curses conjured up in your head, and you delete the previous number you had dialed in. Think, damnit. Think, think, think. You thought to yourself, nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you prayed for a solution to be presented to you. An alternative popped up into your brain then. Albeit that alternative was stupid, but it was something. 

You dialed his number, anxiously waiting as it rang. 

KEN WAS ON HIS BREAK, SITTING ON THE BENCH AS HE WIPED THE SWEAT OFF HIS FOREHEAD. Playoffs were about to start, and Shimura was working them to the bone to make sure everyone had their head in the game. He let out a deep breath through his nose, arms resting on his knees as tried to calm down after a few laps around the stadium. The rest of his teammates seemed to be reacting obnoxiously over something, though he didn’t have the energy to feign enthusiasm. 

One of his teammates teasingly nudged him then, giving him a playful grin. “Your secret’s out, huh? All this time you were with her.”

Ken laughed it off, still oblivious to the fact that nearly all of Japan now knew the face of his supposed girlfriend. He noted the specification in his tone, as if he were referring to a mutual friend of theirs. Which, again, was impossible- nobody but you knew the secret he was hiding. He gave them a nod before returning back to his own space. 

He felt his watch buzz against his wrist, and he was all but surprised to see you calling him on your day off. He sat up straight then, grabbing his phone to answer the call. He had to admit, he answered a little too excitedly. Or nervously. He couldn’t differentiate the two, not when it involved you. Ever since the start of this stunt, something in him shifts whenever you or anything related to you gets mentioned. He brushed it off as some sort of familiarity attachment, the weight of your sudden resignation still heavy on his shoulders.

Was he sad to let you go? Maybe, he wasn’t entirely sure. Aside from the fact that he had Mina, you did your job well. You knew the ins and outs of everything he liked and disliked, you kept him organized and on track. Sure, losing you would be another hurdle he would have to get over, but that doesn’t mean he would be… impotent without you. He clears his throat before he finally brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hey-” He starts, but stops when he notices the frantic panic in your voice. “Woah, hey slow down. What happened?”

“You happened.” You reply then, albeit through a shaky breath. 

“What?” He questions, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s exactly as I said. You happened,” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “And now I need your help. Please.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[nariism]

to the ends of our world — i. rin

academic rivals to lovers + "i could kiss you right now!" + "we fell asleep by accident and woke up as a mess of tangled limbs."

synopsis. all rin said was that he would help you with calculus. he didn't think he'd be waking up to your morning breath and wishing the moment would last forever.

wc. 1.6k

notes. kind of a highschool au where rin is out for the season because of an injury 🙏 also kind of a one-sided rivalry because rin is a loser :p

— for @itoshiexx <3 | event masterlist ✉️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I could kiss you right now.

Those were the last words you spoke to Rin almost an hour ago.

He's agonizing over it, really. He probably should have at least said something back to you instead of shutting you out like he does every time he feels himself getting too close.

Instead he's dutifully working through his calculus notebook.

If he focuses enough on perfecting derivatives, he can ignore the way your presence beside him has only gotten weightier. But it's hard to do that when the words are still echoing in his mind.

I could kiss you right now.

You're just as adamant on finishing your workbook, eyes glued to the page and attention completely devoted to making numbers dance.

When you asked him earlier in the day if he could help you with the new sets, he was confused. You'd always been the one to best him.

It irritated him. You reminded him too much of his big brother.

But then he saw your notebook. You'd hesitantly handed it over to him when you showed up at his doorstep with courtesy snacks and a bag of oranges for his mother.

(Which she gushed about, by the way. He felt like burying himself in a hole when she asked if you were dating.)

You'd been trying for so long to figure out the solutions that some areas of the page were torn where you had kept erasing and redoing the work. He even found things scribbled out in frustration.

He would have laughed if you didn't have such a grim look on your face. Rin was never one for humour, anyways.

He reluctantly agreed to help, though he was sure your other grades would make up for one botched math unit. It was the petty pride in him speaking—in reality, the way you looked like you were on the verge of tears was enough to send him into fight or flight mode.

He had never seen such a dazed, stressed expression on you before. You were the epitome of a model student—good grades, class representative, and friendly enough that no one ever wanted to step on your toes.

No one but Rin, that is.

He told himself he hated you. Goody-two shoes. Smiley. Obliviously and annoyingly cheerful. Successful enough to do anything you wanted to do, so long as you had the drive.

Everything Rin would have been if he hadn't injured his knee right before the football season started.

But what he thought he felt about you was a lie. He hadn't even realized it until you were sitting down on his bed, knee bumping into him as you lounged there criss-crossed.

He'd always just seen you as the person who sat in front of him in homeroom. Untouchable. He envied you, even though his grades were nearly as good now that he had all the time in the world to study.

Now, though, you're just as human as he is.

Rin can see your face instead of the back of your head. Your words are meant for him—thanking him, praising how easy his method for solving these equations is.

Then, you shattered his daydream.

I could kiss you right now.

You said it so unseriously, not even looking at him when you did. You had gotten to the end of your third page of work, conquering the math with ease now that you understood it.

It was your funny way of expressing gratitude. He knows you didn't mean anything by it, definitely. But it's been stuck in his mind.

And neither of you have uttered a word to each other since.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when you slam your pencil down in your notebook and shut it with an audible thud.

"Break time!" You sigh blissfully, though he isn't sure if you're talking to him or yourself.

You flop back into his mattress and he just stares in quiet disbelief while you scroll through your phone like you fucking pay rent here.

Rin debates whether or not to kick you off his bed so that he can finish his homework without distraction, or if he should just leave you be. Ultimately, he decides that it's too much of a hassle to deal with confrontation and silently goes back to doing derivatives.

He would feel bad shoving you away when you finally started talking to him, after all. And you look so at ease now, with your work almost done.

(Yeah, you started working at a faster pace than him with his method. You seriously piss him off.)

He comes to the conclusion that this is going to be a one-time thing. Rin hates the twist of despair in his stomach seeing you about to burst into tears.

He hates the peace that fills him when you're back to your smiling self even more.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rin wakes up to warmth.

Groggily, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes until they adjust to the light of sunrise pouring into his room.

It's strange. He doesn't remember falling asleep at all.

What was he doing last night? He shifts a little bit and freezes when he hears the crinkle of paper beneath him.

Oh, his calculus homework. Did he finish it? It's due today.

He's just about to sit himself up to check the time and hope he has at least another hour to sleep before school, when he realizes much too late that there's a weight on his arm.

Rin gets yanked back by the arm that's pinned down, yelping quietly in surprise.

And then everything hits him like a goddamn truck.

Maybe more like a freight train, really, because he feels like he's about to have a fucking heart attack. Rin dares to turn his head, so comically slow that it's like life itself moves in slow motion.

Somehow in your sleep, you've become a tangled mess of limbs.

His arm is tucked under your neck—the culprit for making him whelp like a child when he tried to sit up. Your legs are twisted together and... Oh god. His free hand is resting where your hip melts into your thigh.

Panic rises in his chest because one, he's never had another person in his bed before. Period. And two, because there's heat boiling in the pit of his stomach and he's pretty sure he's about to keel over and pass away.

Just as he's about to shove you off the bed, realization dawns on him.

You look so peaceful when you sleep.

Your breath smells, and your hair has gotten tangled under the weight of his arm. You're muttering to yourself quietly in your sleep, and he's pretty sure he can see a bit of drool in the corner of your lip.

He so desperately wishes that his first thought would be to tease you about this until the end of time. Or maybe use it as blackmail against you, if you were to get a higher grade on the upcoming calculus exam because of his methods.

But instead, his first thought is that he never wants to move from this position. That he needs to savour this moment.

It's horrifying.

18 hours ago, you pranced up to the side of Rin's desk and asked if he could help you with the problem set.

All he said was that he would help you with calculus.

He didn't expect you to show up at his door right after dinner. And he didn't expect you to seat yourself on his bed before he could offer you the chair at his desk.

He certainly didn't think he'd be waking up to your morning breath and wishing the moment would last forever.

You've just been a bag full of mysteries. Rin hates mysteries. It's part of the reason why math works for him—no surprises, no ambiguity. There's always an answer.

Rin can't formulate an answer on why his heart feels like it's about to burst out of his ribcage.

You shuffle in his arms and suddenly the pounding in his chest ceases.

Is this what death feels like?

"Rin?" You murmur sleepily, shifting into his warmth as if this is something regular classmates should be doing. "What time is it?"

"I can't see the clock," he deadpans, though it's just a facade to hide how utterly enamoured he is right now. "It's behind you."

You groan, rolling over to check the time. He breathes a sigh of relief as you pull away but it gets stuck in his throat when you collapse back into him, your back against his chest.

"6:07," you tell him nonchalantly. And then you cozy yourself up in the blankets again, nice and warm, and go back to sleep.

"Hey," he shakes you lightly. "Don't just go back to bed, moron."

"We can talk about the homework later," you mumble as if that's what he fucking meant.

A million words run through his mind, parading to the tip of his tongue where they all fall off and die. He can't find them when you're slotting yourself closer and closer in your sleep, squeezing his arm against your cheek.

Eventually, he decides that it's not worth the hassle of getting up and having you see his flustered face right now. You'd never let him live it down.

So he closes his eyes and pretends that you're not just the person who sits in front of him in homeroom. Goody-two shoes. Smiley. Obliviously and annoyingly cheerful.

"I could..."

He swallows loudly, the words like molasses in his throat.

I could kiss you right now.

You're dead to the world, but he doesn't dare speak the thought into existence, anyway.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

("Rin! 95%!"

You shove your paper into his face and he opens his mouth to snark back about it.

But then you leap forward and press a kiss to his cheek. Everything in his head instantly melts into mush.

"You're the best," you gush.

He just glowers at you with burning red cheeks.)

[purplecoffee13]

Nemesis with Benefits - Part 6

Summary: “Three weeks have passed, and the inevitable truth leads to some harsh conversations…”

Wc: 3.3k

Tropes: enemies-to-lovers

Warnings: ANGST big time, fighting, crying (my heart hurts)

A/N: hello… I finally finished the newest chapter and I immediately wanted to get it out so you can all read it. I am incredibly sorry that it took so long, and I am also sorry for the amount of sadness in this chapter… but it had to happen🥲

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It's been three weeks since you last saw Harry, and you feel terrible.

About what exactly? You're not sure. Dylan's sudden appearance. Harry just— walking out. What Harry and Dylan did to you. What you have been doing with Harry...

It seems that, just as the dust had started to settle, this tornado entirely threw you for a loop again. Finally getting to terms with your feelings and accepting the idea of a friendship with Harry, it all came crashing down the moment you spotted Dylan at that pool table.

You'd spent hours furiously scribbling in your notebook to understand the depths of this tricky situation you'd managed to work yourself into, but you haven't found a logical solution or explanation for any of it.

Only that Dylan is a total dick, that is.

You had to admit that you needed some time to come down from the shock and bottled up feelings that had exploded right in front of your face. But by the end of the week, you were ready to find Harry and talk about this. What that conversation would lead to, you had no idea, but speaking to him was vital.

And apparently impossible.

He wouldn’t respond to your texts, nor your calls when you eventually decided to give calling him a try. When you'd finally mustered up the courage to sneakily ask Benjamin about Harry's whereabouts, you were smacked in the face with the news that Harry had left.

He'd gone home to England to visit his family, Benjamin said. When you'd asked whether it had to do anything with the Dylan fiasco, Benjamin had shrugged and said that Harry did visit his family every single year. But he also mentioned he went a bit earlier than planned, so he thought the other night might have had a little bit to do with it.

Planned or not planned, it left you with a lot of confusion and doubt for the next two weeks, one of which you spent in your own hometown, trying to enjoy spring break as much as you could with a broken heart and an occupied mind.

You hadn't returned to your college town yet when Harry finally did, and you were bummed about not being able to talk to him. Rebecca and Benjamin were going to a party Harry was throwing so you guessed you'd hear about his state when you got back.

It would've be a bit embarrassing to admit, but it's one of the reasons you caught an earlier train this morning. You texted Rebecca, telling her you’d back sooner than planned. but you hadn't heard from her so far. While you'd thought it was a little weird, you figured you'd see her this evening anyway.

You didn't expect her to be at your front door.

A smile creeps onto your face as you neared her, leaving your luggage to the side as you open your arms for a hug, but Rebecca just stands there, arms crossed. Quirking up a brow, you ask:

"Hey, are you okay?"

A few seconds pass before she responds.

"We need to talk."

Absolute, utter dread fills your entire body as you nod, grabbing your suitcase. "What is it about? Do you want to go upstairs?"

Rebecca doesn't answer your question, she only nods in response to your second. You are quick to unlock my door and walk towards my apartment with her. The elevator ride is silent and excruciating, and when you've finally entered your living room, you're quick to ask away.

"Okay, what's going on?" Your question sounds almost irritated, which in hindsight doesn't seem very smart because it only seems to tick Rebecca off. What is going on with her?

"Harry threw a little get together yesterday," Your friend sighs, crossing her arms. "and I couldn't help but notice the familiarity of his home address when he sent it to us."

Your face pales. Oh my god, you are going to throw up. This cannot possibly be happening right now. Rebecca notices your instant change in the demeanor, her own growing angry. You take a few steps back and sit down on the couch.

"You slept with him, after what he did to you?! How could you do that?!"

You are at a loss of words, despite having thought about how you were going to break this news to her one day. "I— I don't know, I don't know..."

"What do you mean you don't know? You slept with the guy your boyfriend cheated on you with! God, have you no self-respect?!"

Her words hit you like a slap in the face, and as the tears roll down your cheeks, you begin to shake your head.

"Rebecca— I..."

"No, listen, Y/N. For months, Benjamin and I have been walking on eggshells, trying so hard to make sure you're comfortable. Benjamin even punched Harry, for Christ's sake. Do you even know that?"

You nod slowly, the guilt that has been tightening around your throat settling in your stomach as well.

"I'm sorry..." You peep, looking down at the floor. Meeting Rebecca's eyes is too terrifying at the moment. You can't handle that right now.

"God... why him? You don't even like him." Rebecca goes on, and the tears prickling in your eyes turn into full blown sobs as soon as the words have left her mouth. With your hands buried in your face, you don't see your friend sitting next to you, but you feel her rubbing your back.

"Shit... you like him, don't you?" She concludes, and your crying only increases at hearing that confession fall from another person's lips. This is the most complicated thing you have ever experienced. It takes a minute or so to finally manage to control your tears, and have calmed down enough to respond.

"I don't know how this happened." You confess between your sobs. "I didn't— I wasn't supposed to!"

"Hey, calm down." Rebecca pulls you closer to her, and you continue crying in her lap. "Everyone has at least one person they weren't— supposed to sleep with."

You pull yourself up, wiping away your tears as you shake your head. "I meant, I wasn't supposed to care about him. Sleeping with him was a choice I made, and I don't regret it because it was a distraction, and it worked. But it only worked because I hated him. I wasn't supposed to start... caring."

"Sweets, being that intimate with someone will leave you with no other option than to care for them, at least at some point." Rebecca reminds you. Your gaze is fixated on the ground, all these truths flying through your scrambled mind. You let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry." You finally say, and another tear slips down your cheek as Rebecca strokes your hair.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made that comment about self worth, that was uncalled for, and mean. I was just angry, but that's no excuse."

You look at your friend, whose eyes also seem to be blurry, and conjure a faint smile. "You're forgiven."

Rebecca pulls you into a tight hug, and it takes her a full minute before you finally get her to agree to let go. When she does, she immediately stands up and grabs a glass of water for the both of you while you wipe your smudged mascara away with a tissue.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" She asks when she sits down, handing you the glass. You shrug before taking a large gulp of the water before setting it back on the table.

"I have no idea."

Rebecca leans back into the couch, eyeing you for a couple of seconds before speaking up. "Can I be really honest here?"

You're careful to look your friend in the eyes, her bluntness scaring you sometimes, but you nod anyway.

"I think you two are a pretty good match— you know, if you wouldn't count all the shit that happened of course. I was actually surprised when you went out with Dylan instead of Harry in the beginning. I thought Harry was a much better fit for you.” She tells you, and your brow quirks up at her words. You didn't expect her to go down this route. “You're just... compatible, you know? Plus, I was convinced he liked you."

"Rebecca, he hated me from the start." You scoff, but she shakes her head intently.

"No I know, but I swear, he asked about you before that party where you met him and Dylan. I thought he was interested in you."

By now, you have your hands buried in your hair as you listen to all this new information that you are being fed by your friend. This is way too confusing and it's making your headache even worse.

"But then you told me he was being rude, so I just brushed it off as a lapse of judgment from my side. Of course now we know he was acting like an asshole to you because of Dylan—which I still think is a dick move, by the way." Rebecca rants on. The weight on your chest that had seemed to have subsided for a minute has grown in size again.

"My point is, your relationship with Harry has been a wreck from the start, and the main cause for that is Dylan. So if you can't get over the Dylan situation, it's probably going to be impossible to ever build a lasting relationship with Harry."

Rebecca's words ring in your ears. It's a revelation that has been looming in your mind for a bit now. There was a part of you that knew this was an extremely complicated situation and therefore didn't want to tackle it, as a possible solution seemed to be non-existent. You've hit a wall in your relationship—if it even can be called that—with Harry, and if you really want to move forward, you'll have to climb over that wall and hope Harry will take your hand and come along.

You sigh, your tired eyes meeting Rebecca's. "You're right."

************************************************

It's been about an hour since Rebecca left and you've been pacing your living room ever since, devising a plan on how to talk to Harry. What to say to him, how to say it, and with what outcome in mind.

A knock on the door relieves your from your taunting thoughts for a moment, but opening your door throws you for an entirely different loop as you find Harry standing across from you.

He looks worn out. The dark circles under his eyes aren't extremely prominent but the sole fact that they're there tells you enough. He also appears to be in gym clothes, which makes you wonder whether this trip to your apartment was planned or not.

"Hey." He croaks out, his eyes flicking up and down your face and body, calculating any reaction that might come from you.

"Hi." You respond breathlessly. Neither of you say another word—you spend most of the silent minute staring at him—until Harry finally clears his throat.

"Can I— uh..." his finger points towards your living room, and before you know it, you step aside. He enters your apartment, following you as you head for your couch.

Another dreadful silence follows as the both of you sit next to each other, waiting for the other one to break first. It's excruciating and it feels like it goes on forever. You don't realize you're picking at your nail beds until Harry's voice takes you out of your dissociative trance.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" You scan his face, squinting your eyes a bit. There is something unsettling about his demeanor. It's so passive, at least it seems.

"For just leaving like that." He meets your eyes, and you notice the guilt displayed in them. Not knowing what to say, you refrain from answering as you think of everything that has happened. When you finally do open your mouth, Harry's focus on you is so intense that it makes you a bit nervous, the weight of your words becoming much heavier now that you know Harry will be hanging onto your every single one.

"You really hated me, you know. And it wasn't just because of Dylan. You despised me, always did, and I never understood why."

You watch as his eyes turn glassy and he shakes his head, softly whispering 'no' over and over again. Your brows crease at his attempt at—what seems to you—denial. He can't oppose that he hated you. He has literally said it multiple times.

"Don't pretend that you didn't Harry, I know you did."

"No, that's not—" he protests.

"Then what is it?” The questions falls off your tongue in a hurry, the frustration that has been bottled up inside of you slowly beginning to unleash. "The other night, right before spring break, I really thought we were on our way to becoming friends. I felt like it was actually possible. And then you just— left. One glimpse of him and you were gone.”

You take a deep breath before continuing. “It's been eating at me for the past three weeks that you just walked out and began ignoring me. So please, Harry, clarify it for me because I don’t understand any of this.”

Harry hangs his head and sighs. “It's complicated. And stupid... and probably doesn't make any sense."

"Then make sense of it." You command, leaning forward so he is forced to meet your eyes. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, then nods, a small frown on his face as he figures out what he wants to say. You try not to hold your breath as you wait for him to start, but you find yourself doing it anyway as soon as he starts speaking.

"I, uh— I'd liked Dylan for quite some time, and he knew that. He led me on for a long time, and I was trying to get over him, but it just felt like it was impossible, you know?" He explains, picking at the skin on his fingers out of nervous habit. You hum, telling him you understand without actually interrupting him. He continues.

"So, one day I was walking out of class and I ran into Rebecca. She was with you and some other girls, and you were all waiting for her while she was talking to me. I remember seeing you, and I thought you were very pretty, which was special to me because I hadn't felt so intrigued by someone in a long time."

Your heartbeat becomes more prominent, and suddenly you can feel it beating loudly as he speaks. You fiddle with your sweaty hands. He was intrigued by you? The nerves swerve through your stomach, not being able to make sense of what Harry is saying just yet. It’s contradicting everything you’ve known about Harry’s feelings towards you since you met him. But Rebecca’s words hang in the back of your head, and there is a wave of anticipation that almost overwhelms you: the anticipation that Rebecca might be right. Harry clears his throat.

“So anyways, I asked Rebecca about you and she told me you'd come to the party. Later, I was kind of— stalking you on Instagram, and Dylan saw. He teased me about it. Suddenly he started to give me loads of attention again. And I thought maybe he was jealous, and he had realized that he liked me, and this was finally the moment that it would all work out.” He says with a certain bitterness, not necessarily aimed at anyone but himself. As if he is mad at himself for those past rose-tinted thoughts he had regarding Dylan. “But then he got together with you at the party a couple days late, and I was just... so angry."

Harry’s eyes become glassy, and you feel your heart crack. After your break-up with Dylan it became clear how much effect he had on Harry. Now knowing the history, the constant push and pull, you don’t find it weird. Harry had allowed him inside his heart time and time again, all the while Dylan would just figure out how to play at his heartstrings. Just enough to keep him coming back everything single time, hoping something had changed.

“It felt like he wasn't allowing me to get over him. I had finally met someone who made me realize that maybe the first stages of like— love and dating shouldn't feel like your heart is constantly being ripped from your chest. That it could be innocent and fun. And it felt as if he was mocking me for it, by going after that hope and taking it away.”

He looks at you, and you give him a weak, sympathetic smile, swallowing away the physical pain you get from hearing about Harry’s emotional pain. Caring so deeply can be the most euphoric thing, but it’ll come back to bite you in the ass when the person you care about is hurting. You realize then, in that moment, how thin the line between a blessing and a curse is.

But when your hand finds his and you intertwine your fingers, you figure it’s more of a blessing anyway.

“And I just— I don't want to spin it as if you were a piece of meat, because Dylan cared about you. I saw that, and I hated it because I used to wish it was me. It made me be a dick to you, and I’m really fucking sorry about that, because you didn’t deserve that at all. If I could take all of that back then I would.”

He sighs as soon as all the ramblings of words have left his mouth, and you feel the weight of that sigh. His body tells you it as well: he’s relieved. Initially, you find yourself at a loss of words, and the only thing that your mind can generate as a response escapes before you can stop yourself.

“Well, if you take it all back then we bever would’ve have had such mind-blowing sex, right?” You blurt out, and Harry chuckles at your stupid joke. You laugh along as you try to scramble together a real answer, stroking his hand with your thumb.

“I’m sorry Dylan used you like that, I can only imagine how frustrating that is. And while I agree you should’ve never been so grumpy to me, I can’t say that I haven’t acted rude out of jealousy before.” You say earnestly, the thought of that night at the bar popping inside your head. You weren’t exactly nice to that girl Harry was talking to either. In fact, you didn’t acknowledge her at all.

“Rebecca said we need to get over the Dylan situation if we ever want to build any sort of relationship whatsoever. We need to forgive each other and move past it, otherwise we can never be— friends.” Your cheeks heat up at your quick save. It’s quiet between the two of you, but his grip on your hand doesn’t loosen the slightest bit. Harry is staring at his lap, making it difficult for you to read what he’s thinking. He raises his head to meet your eyes, and when you are met with the sight of a tear rolling down his cheek, your own vision blurs instantly.

"How can I forgive you for something you never did?"

The hopelessness of his question smashes your heart into a thousand pieces. You are quite sure you physically hear it crack. The broken pieces pierce into every part of your body, including your throat, that feels too heavy as you gather strength to answer him. Your breath hitches the first time you try to get some words out and fail, so your voice wavers when you manage to speak.

“I don’t know...”

Taglist: @hisparentsgaleryy @love-letters-to-uranus @moonwitttch19 @notmeherelol173 @fairytale07 @valuunit

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Plum Flavored Chapstick » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky refuses to put chapstick on so his girl best friend figures out a solution that benefits the both of them.

Warnings: Fluff, language, flirting, kissing, pet names (doll)

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

Bucky has been your best friend for a few years and for as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been stubborn. Bucky’s lips have been chapped for the past few days and he refuses to put chapstick on. You offered him some and he still said no.

“Bucky, you’re my best friend and I love you, but for the love of god put some fucking chapstick on your lips.” You say.

“I’m fine, doll.” Bucky says.

He continued to pick at his chapped lips. You sighed and gently took his hand away from his lips.

“Buck please.” You pleaded sweetly.

“You’re so cute when you care about me.” He says, kissing your forehead softly and walked away.

You pouted and crossed your arms over your chest as you watched him walk away. You were determined to get him to put chapstick on and you just knew how to do it.

Later that day, you found Bucky in the lounge room with Steve, Sam, and Nat. You applied chapstick to your lips before walking into the room without saying a word.

“Oh hey, doll. What’s—” You cupped his scruffy cheeks and kissed him passionately before he could finish his sentence.

You pulled away to see a surprised look on Bucky’s face. Everyone else was shocked.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” Bucky asks.

“You wouldn’t put chapstick on so I put some on my lips and kissed you.” You say.

Bucky licked his lips, tasting the flavor of chapstick.

“Is that plum flavored chapstick?” He asks, licking his lips again.

“Yes. You wouldn’t believe how many stores I had to go to find it.” You say.

“Well, in that case…” Bucky picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder making you giggle. “You’re coming with me to my room so I can taste more of that chapstick.” He says, walking away with you on his shoulder.

No one said a word as awkward silence filled the room.

“Are we not gonna talk about what the hell just happened?” Sam asks.

“I know right!” Steve agrees.

“Leave them alone! They’re in love!” Nat scolds them.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[hellvcifer]

ANGEL SUPPORT SERVICES—

pairing; lucifer x fem!angel!reader (?), slight adam x fem!angel!reader (?) i don't know yet. still developing ideas atp wc; 2.9k note; yeah i really don't know where this story will go but it's been stuck in my head for a bit. hope you enjoy!! and let me know who the pairing should be bcs i can't decide lol !!

“Hello!” Charlie peeked around the door, eyes glancing side-to-side as she took in the decor. Various whites and golds fancily accentuated the interior of the Embassy. She walked in further, noting the long pathway, surrounded by empty seating, all leading up to a desk in the distance. “Hello?” Her soft voice echoed with the sound of her footsteps. “Helloo~o…? Cre~epy…” Her face scrunched, shoulders curling in as she got closer to the lone desk.

She approached, not knowing what else to do. This being her first time at the Heaven Embassy and all. A solid gold bell was centered on the white porcelain, embellished with fanciful design and begging someone to ring it. Charlie stared at it for a moment before her hand slapped the top of it. The emitted chime was soft and held out the delightful sound. 

A bright flash of light emitted from behind the desk, swirls of golden flowers and sparkling light appearing and growing bigger before revealing a figure wrapped in a mass of feathers. They shuffled a bit and spread out widely to reveal the back of the owner. 

“Oh!” You turned around, eyes widening upon seeing the guest. “Welcome to the Heaven Embassy!” You smiled brightly, arms held out to gesture to the place. “I'm with Angel Support Services, you can call me Y/N, how can I help you?” 

“Oh, uh Hi! I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar.” The girl returned your energy, eyes attentive. “So nice to meet you! I’m here for a meeting with, uh, Heaven.” She explained.

“Right!” Your eyes scanned her quickly, “I heard they were sending someone… new.” You giggled.

“Yes! I’m here filling in for my father, of course, I’m sure you know that but I really wanted to present my new idea about rehabbing sinners and the–”

“Rehabbing sinners?” Your eyes widened, lips curling in. Hand covered your mouth. 

“I know right! Just the best solution to our problem! It may sound a little crazy but I’ve compiled an entire speech–”

“That is… A great idea.” You interrupted her, swallowing down your laughter. Oh, he is gonna eat her alive. “I’m sure they would love to hear it.” Your hands flourished in the air and a pen appeared in one while a scroll in the other. The glow on them shined as you set the paper in front of the girl. “Please sign in here.”

“Oh, Okay!” She grabbed the pen, “I'm super happy to be here! It’s so nice to meet with such friendly people from Heaven considering the ex–Oh!” As soon as she finished signing, the items disappeared and shocked her.

“Of course, of course! We get that alot.” You continued your cheery tune as a door opened on your right. “Through there please.” You gestured in the said direction.

“Just, uh walk in then, huh?” Charlie asked.

You smirked with a nod, eyes sharpening though she seemed oblivious. “Good luck!” You waved with a twiddle of your fingers, watching her leave. “You’re gonna need it~” You spoke quietly, watching the doors shut behind her. You shook your head releasing a sigh. 

Within the next hour you remained at the desk within the Embassy, awaiting the poor girl’s exit. No doubt going on and on about her silly little rehabilitation idea. Though her confidence was thick and made you admire that.

Once a year this happened, and it was the same every time. Answer the ring, pop on down, sign in whomever was visiting, and leave. Typically it had been Lucifer. But it seems that he’s sent his daughter to do it to avoid talking with you. Ever since, well… Last time, he just didn't want to see you. You huffed, sad that you wouldn’t get the chance to talk out the incident. Not that you would even know what to say.

The doors opened, a flash of red was twirled out of it and you saw Charlie land on the floor. Papers scattered around her as she tried to stand. The unnerving guitar of Heaven’s representative rifted throughout the building. The girl stood and walked towards the closing doors. 

“Um–Wait, didn’t you–” The last thing she saw was the devious smile of Adam before she was left in darkness. The last sliver of light snuffed out. “Awh, shit!” She slammed her fist against the heavy gold.

You rested your cheek against your hand, smirk ever prominent as you watched the whole thing play out. The girl was breathing heavily, head now leaning against the cold material. “Sooo, how’d it go?” Your voice was ever cheerful, dripping with a knowing cynicality. 

Charlie groaned out in response as she began picking up the drawings she originally presented earlier. 

“Yeah, that’s what most people say after meeting Adam.” You snickered. “Heaven’s finest first man, an absolute angel.” You stood straight. “Don’t take it to heart, he’s like that to everyone~” You sang out the final word as Charlie stood, her papers neatly stacked in her arms before they disappeared. She looked up at you, seeing how your expression oozed with intent.

“You knew he would react like that?” Her tone raised, questioning your actions. 

“Oh honey,” Your brows dipped as a slight pout appeared on your lips. “It’s Adam. Everyone knows. He literally calls himself the original–”

“–Dickmaster,” You finished together. “Yeah, yeah.” Charlie added.

“See! Look at you catching on so quickly.” Your hands clasped together as you brought them to your chest. 

Charlie groaned, taking a few steps forward. “Why wouldn’t you warn me before going in there?” She didn’t seem angry as she spoke, more shocked, more frustrated than ever. “I could have prepared better, or shifted my presentation, I just–Ugh!”

“The real question is: Why wouldn’t your father? He’s met with Adam plenty of times before.” Your words made her inhale sharply, eyes widening. “Eeouh~ Daddy issues? It's okay, we all have ‘em.” Your wings opened, flapping a few times and raising you off the floor to sit on your desk. “As much as I would love to help, Sweetie, I got more important things to deal with on the up-side, so if you don’t mind.” Your arm swung out, hand presenting the exit that was in line of sight. 

Charlie huffed before walking towards the exit, hand reaching out for the handle. You smiled as she opened the door and waved at her. “Come again!” 

As the resounding slam of the door echoed throughout the chamber, that was your cue to take your own leave. With a flash of light, you appeared back into the holy grounds of Heaven. The large golden gates in your view and a familiar face standing atop of the podium. 

“Y/N! Welcome back! How was the day down below?”

“Hi Saint Peter!” You greeted him, walking down the golden path to the entrance. “Same as always, super boring!” You waved a hand, sticking your tongue out. “Anyways, I’m off to pick up the notes from the meeting. Have you seen Ella?”

“Oooh, yeah. Sera asked her to cover the greeting party for new souls today and asked me, to tell you, that you’ll have to retrieve the notes from today.”  His face seemed like he was in pain as he explained what happened to you.

Your form all but deflated at the news. “Wonderful.” You groaned out the word, watching the golden gate open. You trudged through, smiling at the post angel and waving, “Thanks, Peter!” You tried to remain cheerful, wings outspread and lifted you into the air. He returned your wave and as you left, closed the gates.

With Ella gone, her duties now shifted to you as requested by Sera. Which meant you had to go deal with the First Dick. You rolled your eyes as you flew above buildings, weaving through the other residents of Heaven until you reached Headquarters.

The area was a combination of large buildings, all placed neatly in a secure area for higher ranking angels. They were decorated with the overdone gold accents and white porcelain walls. Seriously, how did they not come up with anything a bit more original. You landed on the ground and walked into one of the higher bestowed skyscrapers, being greeted by others as you did. It didn’t take long to navigate towards the elevator and pressing the button to bring you to the right level. 

You wondered why you felt the need to complete these tasks so quickly. Perhaps to feel the relief of the day being over; the chore having been finished. Just so you can enjoy the happy days of Heaven ahead. The days of the Holy and gifted, where nothing can go wrong and everything is perfect. Not a single thing misplaced or misused. Just… Perfect.

Once you arrived, your steps chorused down the long hallway. At the very end was a giant door leading to the one you were hoping to avoid. Just before it on the left was a smaller office that you stopped in front of. You knocked twice and waited for an answer. It swung open to reveal none other than–

“Lute.” You greeted rather blandly. 

“Y/N.” Her eyes were widened but she quickly bowed her head, hand raising to her chest as she did so. “To what do I owe the honor?”

You strutted into her office, eyes looking around though uninterested in anything you saw, “Ella’s out and I need the meeting notes for my report.” You quickly turned to her. “That shouldn’t be an issue, I presume?”

She straightened, “Of course not.” She walked over to her desk, picking up the pile of papers before handing them to you. You scanned them, noting the diction used and how well they were written. Obviously not Adam’s doing. You sighed though you didn’t care if he wrote them or not. “Should I notify Adam of your arrival?”

“No! No, no.” You began walking towards the door, stepping through the threshold. “That will not be necessary. In fact, don’t even mention I stopped by, mmkay? Good. Bye-bye!” You smiled though it never fully made its way to your eyes. Your pace was fast down the hallway as you reached the elevator. Luckily no one had called it and it was still on the level.

The doors opened immediately and you entered, turning around to hit the button for the lobby. You released a heavy breath and waited for the elevator to react. As the doors began to shut, the large office at the end of the hallway began to open. 

A familiar figure stepped out, “Hey! Danger Tits! when’s that dorky chick with the–” he saw you in the small gap that remained open. His body froze, mouth opened as his thoughts halted. He watched as the panels came closer together, his lips moving to utter the only thing he could process. “Y/N?”

The doors shut as you gulped. You exhaled heavily, feeling your body release any tension you had from seeing him. What a nightmare that would have been to deal with. You’ve avoided him as much as possible within the last year. Though with both of your positions, it was inevitable you run into each other from time-to-time. Quick exits and excuses were second nature to you now.

This moment for instance, you made your escape from the building and ventured over to the main one; having passed by other coworkers and fellow angels along the way. One of the final people on your list to see was Sera to hand over your report and the notes. 

This wasn’t your ordinary day in Heaven but it was certainly the busiest out of the year. Heaven had a meeting with Hell once a year to discuss any necessary things and then it was left in the wind until the next one. It wasn’t your favorite thing to be in charge of, but then again you were rewarded nicely for it. Not to mention, it was recently adjusted that there will be meetings held twice a year now. Something about boosting morale with those below.

Considering how close the buildings were, it was fairly easy to make your way to Sera’s office. You knocked and heard a soft “Come in.” You opened the door and saw her having a cup of tea with Emily sitting next to her. The younger Seraphim grinned widely at the sight of you. 

“Oh my goodness, Y/N!” She jumped from her seat and glided over to you. “How was your day? Did you have fun visiting Hell? Did you meet anyone? Please, tell me all about it!” Her joyous attitude reminded you of the new representative put forth for Hell. Charlie.

You gently laughed as she pulled you forward. “Alright, that’s enough, Emily.” Sera called out with a calming voice, pieced with a smile and causing the girl to release her grip.

She nervously chuckled, “Sorry~”

“Welcome, Y/N.” She glanced down at the papers in your hand. “I assume that is the report from today’s meeting?” 

“As requested.” You held them up and they gently floated towards Sera before laying in her hands and disappearing into thin air. 

“Your work today is appreciated.” She bowed her head towards you. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble visiting them. Please join us.” She gestured to an empty chair at the table. 

“Not at all.” You sat, and Emily rejoined the two of you. “In fact, it was mildly entertaining this time around.”

“Oh! How exciting!” Em interjected, eyes awaiting for more information.

“As you know, Hell put forth a new representative this year.” You took a sip of the freshly poured cup of tea in front of you as you explained. “She was going on and on about rehabilitating sinners as a solution to the population problem they’re having.”

They both nearly spat out their drinks, each with an opposite expression. “That’s a great idea!” “That’s a horrible idea.” You chuckled at their different responses, spoken at once.

“But why not!” Em spoke up, “It could bring an end to the issue we’ve been dealing with for so long! Not to mention, it could bring us closer to those down in Hell–”

“Sinner Rehabilitation has no evidence of working.” Sera was quick to say, “If it were even possible, we would know about it. We must not question divine judgment.” 

“But Sera–”

“That’s enough.” Her tone was stern, ending the conversation.

You took another sip of your drink, sighing into the tense air, “I guess it’s better than the extermination.” You hummed absentmindedly.

“What?” Sera was shocked at the mention of the word, her voice coming out sharply as she stared at you with wide eyes.

You turned to her. “You know,” Your hand twirled in the air as you explained. “The proposal that Adam gave forever ago but it was denied at the high council meeting.” You casually mentioned.

“I don’t remember that.” Em’s finger found her chin as she tilted her head.

You smiled. “Waay~ before your time. It was shot down before there could even be a discussion about it.” You answered. “Anyways, I’ve gotta fly. Meeting~” You explained bluntly and rose from your seat, turning to leave. “It was nice seeing you two!”

“Y/N.” Sera called out, causing you to stop and swivel your head. “Uh,” She glanced down at Emily. “A word, before you go.” She followed you out of her office, signaling the younger to stay behind. Once the door was shut, she cleared her throat. 

“About the proposal,” She spoke quietly, calm eyes masking her shakiness. “That won’t be brought up to…” She eluded without saying. 

You laughed, dismissing her worries with a flap of your hand. “Don’t worry. Rehabilitating sinners? Like they would be on board with that, am I right?”

Sera tried to join in, though she cleared her throat, “And… about the other one.” 

“Other one?” You questioned before realizing. “Oh~ The extermination?” You scoffed. “Yeah, no. It was relayed a long time ago when it was initially discussed. No use in bringing up the past. It was declined for a reason.” You squinted at her. “Unless there’s something I should know about…” 

“No! No, of course not.” She held a hand up, closing her eyes with a soft smile. “I just wanted to make sure all things are transparent between us and them.”

You instantly shifted, grinning at her answer. “Great! See you around.” You walked off though an uneasy feeling remained within your stomach. 

Quickly, you made your way over to your own office, popping through the door and shutting it. Now, you waited. It was bound to happen soon, it always did after a meeting at the Embassy occurred. 

You were chosen, hand picked as they admitted. And though the honor was bestowed upon you in all its glory, the burden you felt took its toll on you. As much as you felt gifted for being picked, there was no relief to the loneliness you felt in your position. 

The gold necklace you wore began to glow, humming loudly as the light grew brighter by the second. It was starting. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. A flash of white encapsulated you and you appeared into a familiar office.

A desk was placed some feet in front of you, the luxurious chair turned away from you. All you could see were the crossed legs of a sat figure, long and dainty, angled just slightly to the right. Cladded in white dress pants, he stared out the giant window that silhouette him. 

“Long time, no see…” He leaned forward, blonde hair peeking past the backrest of his chair. “Y/N.”

likes and reblogs appreciated ♡ ┆ part 2

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Sin City | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: arguing! angst! recovering from a sexual assault (please heed this warning), light smut (MDNI!!! 18+ only), mentions of suicide, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 7341

A/N: His beautiful face I will scream and cry

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and the brothers decided to bunk somewhere between Black Rock, New York, and Bobby’s house in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Although Sam knew about your relationship with Dean, Dean still got two separate rooms for you and the brothers. For a reason you couldn’t quite place, that bothered you.

He eventually did come to your separate room, and you immediately grilled him. “Why do you keep getting us two separate motel rooms?” Dean seemed stunned. 

“I mean, it’s not a big deal, but I don’t know… are you ashamed to be with me? Like, do you not want Sam to see us sleeping together? If you are, I’d rather you just tell me—”

Dean shook his head. “No, (Y/N), why would you think that?” he said. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable staying with Sam. And… I don’t necessarily wanna have sex in the bed next to my brother,” he finished. 

“Oh, so you thought we were gonna have sex tonight?” you questioned angrily. 

“What? No! I wasn’t—”

“Because sometimes I feel like that’s all I am to you, Dean! Like I’m just one of your fucking hookups!” you shouted. 

“Why the fuck would you think that?!” he argued. “When have I ever given you that impression?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because whenever we get in the doorway of emotional vulnerability, your solution is to have sex,” you chided. “Maybe because you can’t even tell me how you feel about me. I mean, I’ve poured my heart out to you, and I feel like you’re not even letting me in a little bit!” 

“Why is now the first time you’re bringin’ any of this up?” Dean responded. “Maybe if you would’ve talked to me about this, I could’ve fixed it before you freaked the fuck out on me.”

“Because I feel like if you really cared about me, I wouldn’t have to ask you to prove it to me!” 

“I thought that’s what I was doing!” Dean argued. “I mean, (Y/N), when was the last time you saw me even look at another girl?!”

“You looked at Bela!”

“You did, too!”

You considered for a moment, and unfortunately, he was right. 

“I mean, seriously. When’s the last time I’ve stayed more than a few nights with a girl? If I didn’t give a shit, I wouldn’t be here having this conversation right now. And I told you—!” he cut himself off, seeming to feel awkward. “I told you how I felt. Not in the most direct way, but still!”

“Dean, don’t you think I might wanna actually hear you say it before you go and die on me?!”

“So that’s what this is about. About my deal?” he scoffed. 

“It’s not just about your deal, Dean,” you huffed, “it’s about the fact that I wanna know you love me before you’re gone. I wanna… I wanna be yours, Dean. And I wanna know what’s going on in your head. God, I mean, is that so much to ask for?!” Your voice became louder again. “I mean, you’re gonna die in a year, and you’re acting like you’re goin’ to fuckin’ Vegas. I know you’re fucking terrified, and you won’t talk to me about it!”

“What do you want me to say, (Y/N)?! That I regret making that fucking deal? ‘Cause I don’t,” Dean shot back, and that stung you even more. “I am scared, okay? But I’m not gonna live every day whinin’ about it, either. And I figure, you got so much goin’ on in your head, I might as well not screw you up even more with my problems.”

“You’re right, I do have a lot going on. But you’re not gonna burden me with your problems, Dean,” you responded, voice still angry, but considerably quieter. “I want all of you—” you stepped forward and cupped his face in your hands— “the good, the bad, the ugly; all of it.” Tears welled in your eyes. “I love you. I do. And… I understand if you can’t say it back. I’m not gonna lie to you, it hurts, but I can also… try to understand if you don’t wanna say it.”

Dean grabbed your wrists and pulled them away from his face. He kissed the inside of your right wrist, brought both your hands down between the two of you holding them there, and stared down at you intensely. “I do, I just—” he grimaced in frustration, “I’ve never told anybody. Ever. Not even Sam.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Ever? Not even Cassie?”

He shook his head. 

“Damn.” 

“Do you get why it’s hard now?” he asked. 

You nodded. 

“And I— I do wanna show you. I’m trying, (Y/N),” he whispered, and your heart suddenly clenched with guilt, “it’s just…” Dean trailed off, unable to find the words. “I don’t wanna hurt you after what you went through.”

“I won’t break, Dean,” you replied, voice soft. “I’m a tough cookie.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, becoming serious once more. 

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” you insisted. “I’m… on edge. I should’ve brought this up differently.”

“Can’t disagree with you there,” he commented, “but I’m sorry, too. And if it really bothers you that much, we’ll have a sleepover with Sam next time.”

You giggled, remembering the stupidity of the origin of your fight. Slightly embarrassed, you covered your eyes with your hand. 

Dean took your hand away from your eyes and wound it around his neck, leaning down to kiss you. His kisses were always incredibly passionate and often quite fierce, but this one was different. It was tender and seemed to convey everything he couldn’t say aloud. 

You were surprised when he pulled away. “Where you goin’?” you asked as he headed to the bathroom. 

Dean turned around and cocked his head at you. “To take a shower…?” 

“You’re not gonna—” you gestured to the rest of you. 

He shook his head. “I thought that was what we just fought about.” “I mean, it was, but still. Just surprised, is all,” you shrugged. 

“This may come as a shock to you, but not all men are horny animals, sweetheart,” Dean smirked. 

You rolled your eyes. “The jury’s still out on that one.”

***

Later that evening, you were tucked into Dean’s side. His skin was smooth to the touch, and you loved the shaky breaths you pulled from Dean when you’d rake your nails along his abs. 

“You gotta stop doin’ that,” he groaned.

“Hmmm, why?” you smirked. 

“ ‘Cause,” he returned, the ends of his lips pulling upward. 

“That’s not a very good reason,” you said, trailing down closer to the edge of his v-line. 

Dean gripped your wrist and pulled you flush against him. “Such a tease,” he growled against your lips. 

You kissed him with a grin and pulled away after a moment. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” You laid against him, his head nestled under your chin and resting on top of your naked breasts. You found Dean really enjoyed using them as pillows. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dean murmured. 

“Anything,” you replied. 

“What happened earlier?” You knew he was referring to what happened with Willem Dafoe in the motel room. He must have felt you tense under him when he asked. “You don’t have to answer; it’s fine—”

“No, no,” you cut him off. “I wanna tell you.”

Dean pulled away from you and adjusted himself on his pillow until the two of you were eye-level in the bed. 

“The guard,” you swallowed, “he- he held my hands behind my back. Had me on my stomach. I just… I freaked out.”

Dean looked angry, but you knew it wasn’t at you. “I swear, I’ll fuckin’ track ‘im down and kill him—”

“No, no.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. 

Dean grabbed the hand you had curled into your chest and stroked it with his thumb. “What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

“Is that why you freaked out about the sex earlier?” Dean asked. 

You nodded. 

“Jesus, (Y/N), I didn’t—”

“Dee, I know. It’s okay,” you answered, squeezing his hand. “And it’s not just that, y’know? I still want you to show me that you love me through means other than sex.”

Dean nodded.

“And I still… I still wanna have sex. We haven’t had sex in, like, four months, and it sucks for me, too. I mean, sex with you is like, the greatest thing in the fuckin’ world, but it’s just… it’s hard for me right now.”

He nodded, and then a coy grin spread across his face. “Is it really the greatest thing in the world?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you sighed dramatically, shoving him away from you and rolling to your other side. 

Dean’s arms wrapped around you, and he pressed kisses to your neck. “Hey, be nice,” he said between kisses, “or I’ll withhold the greatest thing in the world.”

You giggled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

Feeling brave, you turned your face toward him and kissed him passionately. You turned around to face him once more, and Dean rolled on top of you. He ran his hands all over your torso. He was careful to avoid your breasts, and you were grateful he was trying to respect your boundaries. 

You broke the kiss and grabbed his hand, guiding it to your right breast without breaking eye contact with him. A deep hunger filled his eyes, and he quickly leaned back down to kiss you fervently. He squeezed your breasts and kissed down your neck while you threaded your hands through his hair. When his lips reached your nipple, he looked back up at you. “Is this okay?” Dean asked.

You nodded, heat flooding you. The touch of his lips to your skin made goosebumps erupt all over you, and your back arched into him. 

Dean pulled your nipple between his teeth, teasing the bud with his tongue. You writhed underneath him, tugging at his hair, and the action only spurred him on further. 

When he moved further down your stomach, though, you began to get a bit nervous. Dean noticed your body tense, and he immediately looked up to you. “Are you okay?”

You began to cry. “I don’t know,” you admitted, bringing your hands to your face in shame. 

Dean immediately climbed off you and tried to pull your hands from your eyes. “What’s goin’ on? Talk to me.”

You looked at him with watery eyes. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.”

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to. Not till you’re ready,” he assured you, running his hand along your hip.

“Yeah, but we don’t have that much time left. I want to before you—” you cut yourself off, shutting your eyes and taking in a shuddering breath. 

“Listen, we got ten months left. We’ll work our way up to it, okay?” Dean promised. 

“But what if you lose interest in me because I’m—” you tried to think of a way to phrase your next statement— “out of commission?”

Dean shook his head, chuckling. “Sweetheart, I love sex, and I love having sex with you, but it’s not the only reason I’m into you,” he assured you. “We won’t do anything until you’re ready.”

“But I thought I was, and look what happened,” you lamented.

“Just means you weren’t ready today,” he shrugged. “And I don’t blame ya. It hasn’t been that long, and you just had that thing happen today. It’s okay, seriously.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

Dean nodded. 

“You’re not lyin’ just to make me feel better?”

He shook his head. 

“Like, absolutely positive—”

“Oh, shut up, (Y/N),” he said, pulling you into him and tucking your head into his chest. 

You giggled and relaxed against him, wrapping your small arms around his waist. He kissed the top of your head, and you matched your breathing to the rising and falling of his chest beneath yours. Within minutes, the both of you were off to sleep. 

***

Over the next few days, Bobby and Dean worked on the Colt you handed over to the older man. Their objective was to figure out a way to have it back to being able to kill demons which you knew Bobby was planning on using to figure out how to save Dean from his deal. 

You and Sam were on research duty searching for demons. 

“Think I got somethin’,” Sam announced from the messy kitchen table. 

You and the other two men looked at him expectantly. 

“Dry lightning and barometric-pressure drop,” he continued. “Plus, some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out. Might be demonic omens.”

Dean shrugged. “Or it could just be a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker.”

“Meh, but it’s our best lead since Lincoln,” you added. “Where in Ohio?”

“Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the rust belt,” Sam replied. 

Dean sighed. “There’s gotta be a demon or two in South Beach.”

“Sorry,” Sam grinned. “Maybe next time. How's it going, Bobby?”

“Slow,” the older man responded. 

“I tell you, it's a little sad seeing the Colt like that.” Dean nodded toward the deconstructed marvel of weaponry. 

“Well, the only thing it's good for now is figuring out what makes it tick,” Bobby said, not looking up from the gun. 

“So, what makes it tick?” Sam smirked. 

Bobby looked up, not amused. 

Sam held his hands up in surrender, and you giggled. 

“So, if we want to go check out these omens in Ohio,” Dean began, standing up, “you think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?”

You and Sam snickered while Bobby stared at him incredulously. 

“Well, it won't kill demons by then, but I can promise you, it'll kill you.” Bobby jokingly aimed the barrel at Dean. 

“Alright,” Dean smiled, “c’mon, we’re wastin’ daylight.”

“See ya, Bobby,” you said, grabbing your duffel bag off the seat next to you. 

You and the boys headed for the door. 

“Hey!”

The three of you turned back to face Bobby.

“You kids run into anything— anything— you call me.”

You nodded and left wordlessly. 

***

You met with a priest who, in fact, watched the man commit suicide. Something notable you learned from the priest was that the man went to church every Sunday up until about two months ago. The town had even changed; people just became “unrespectable,” in his words. Additionally, the other man who’d killed himself had changed, too. 

As you’d left the church, Sam had commented, “Two months ago, we open up the devil's gate; all of a sudden, this town turns into Margaritaville? It's no coincidence.”

Now, the three of you were heading a motel room. A shared one, at that. It made you happy to get to share the room with the boys, strangely; you guessed it just made you feel like less of an outsider and more a part of their family. 

As you opened the door, though, Dean’s voice turned you around. “Richie?”

You turned to see a man exiting the room across the hall. 

“I don’t believe it,” Dean said.

“Hey, Dean,” the man named Richie grinned, “Winchester, right?” A tall, scantily clad blonde with smudged eye makeup came up behind Richie. 

“This is my sister, uh, Cheryl,” Richie quickly explained. 

“Hey,” “Cheryl” smiled. 

Richie handed the woman some money, and Cheryl left. “Well, y’know, stepsister,” he awkwardly clarified. 

You laughed and shook your head while you plopped down onto the bed. 

“Come on in,” Dean said, leaving the door open for Richie. “This is my brother, Sam, and my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

Your heart swelled in your chest, and you were completely floored by Dean calling you his girl. The two of you had never discussed it formally, but you kind of liked how he just named it and claimed it. 

“Girlfriend, huh?” Richie teased. “You settlin’ down, Winchester?”

“No, never,” Dean replied. “She’s a hunter, too.”

“How do you two know each other?” Sam jumped in. 

“You were in school—” the older brother began.

Richie cut him off. “It was that succubus, in Canarsie right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean nodded.

“Oh, man. You should have seen the rack on this broad. Freakin' tragedy when I had to gank her,” Richie lamented, shaking his head.

“Whoa, whoa. Wait. Who killed her? If I remember, your ass was toast until I showed up,” Dean commented.

“Oh, I forgot what a comedian this guy was,” Richie scoffed, making you giggle.

“Richie, Richie, know what? I told you then, and I'll tell you again: you're not cut out for this job. You're gonna get yourself killed,” Dean said, his tone becoming serious as he spoke. 

Richie’s phone rang, and he answered it before he could respond to Dean. “Talk to me,” he said into the phone. He then whispered to Dean, “FYI, Winchester, words hurt.” He quickly finished his phone call, and you and Sam exchanged a glance while Richie did so. 

“So, you find anything in this town, anyway?” Dean asked. 

The other man shrugged. “Ah, no. I got nothin’.” He then seemed to realize Dean wasn’t referring to women. “Oh, wait a minute. You mean as in demons and whatnot?”

The older Winchester nodded as if it was obvious.

“No, I got nothing.”

Dean chuckled. “Typical. What about your sister back there?” 

“Oh, honestly? She definitely had the devil in her, but she wasn't no demon, you know what I'm saying?” Richie laughed, but became serious when he saw Dean’s deadpan reaction. “Right. Seriously. Church guy, hobby-shop guy; they were lunch meat by the time I got there. Hey, maybe they were possessed, but I can't prove it.”

Sam added, “Yeah, that's where we are, too. You know, let's just say that demons are possessing people in this town. Y’know, raising hell—”

“Yeah, but why would a demon blow his brains out?” Dean wondered aloud. 

“Well, for fun?” Richie suggested. “Y’know, he wrecks one body, moves to another. Y’know, like taking a stolen car for a joyride.”

“Anybody else left in the town that fits the profile— y’know, nice guy turned douche, still breathing?” Dean asked the shorter man. 

“There’s Trotter,” Richie noted. 

“Who’s that?” you asked. 

“Oh, she speaks! Lovely voice by the—” Richie cut himself off and cleared his throat awkwardly when Dean glared at him. “Well, he used to be head of the Rotary Club. And then, people say he turned bastard all of a sudden? Brought in the gambling, the hookers… Ah, he practically owns this whole town.”

“Know where we could find him?” Sam questioned. 

“Oh, he'll be at his bar in a few hours.”

***

Off Richie’s tip, the three of you set off for the bar he’d told you about. 

You were dressed in a mini skirt and tank top that showed off your cleavage, and opted to pair the outfit with a pair of sneakers. 

Dean had laughed when he noticed your shoes. 

“What?” you’d asked. 

“Just… you,” Dean had replied. “Wearin’ sneaks to a bar.”

“I’m not wearin’ my heels to go step in spilled beer and possible vomit,” you’d shrugged.

When you arrived at the bar, it seemed more like a club. People bustled throughout the street, most of them heading into one of the several bars or strip clubs lining the street. Some were staggering around drunkenly despite the late afternoon sun; a sight you’d usually see at three in the morning.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, I guess,” you said to yourself, taking in your surroundings. 

“I thought you said this was some boarded-up factory town,” Dean said to Sam.

“It is. At least, it’s supposed to be,” the younger brother responded, looking uncomfortable.

A girl walked past you holding a cocktail and eyeing Dean wantonly. You glared at her, but Dean honestly didn’t seem to notice her. He moved to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You smirked and wrapped your own around the small of his back. 

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let's do some research,” Dean grinned, guiding you toward the bar. 

Despite your stoic, often introverted, and guarded nature, you really did enjoy nightlife on the occasion; especially if a particular Winchester was involved. 

You were the first to step into Trotter’s bar, sliding out from under Dean’s arm to grab his hand and guide him through the crowded room. The bar was completely alive and seemed more like a club than anything. 

You turned back to see Sam looking uncomfortable and overstimulated, and Dean just smirked down at you with that trademark hard-to-read expression of his. When you turned back around, you nearly bumped into Richie. 

“Oh!” You jumped back in surprise. “Hey!”

The man was wearing an orange short-sleeved shirt halfway unbuttoned to reveal a white wife beater underneath. 

“Oh, Richie. Look at you,” Dean chuckled, shaking his hand. “Bringing satin back.”

“Oh, you like this? Try Thai silk. Canal Street,” Richie boasted. “You'd have to pay $300 for threads like these, easy. Cost to me? Fuggedaboutit.”

“How much is ‘forget about it’?” Sam chuckled.

“Ah, forget about it,” the man shrugged, clearly a little intoxicated. “That's Trotter over there. He sits there all night. Can't touch him.” He gestured to a bald, strong-looking man wearing a sharp suit. He almost reminded you of Kingpin from one of your little brother’s favorite Marvel comics. 

“So, what do we do now?” Sam asked.

“I’m thinkin’ I’ll go talk to the bartender,” you began. 

“Whoa,” Dean cut you off, “why can’t we have a little fun first?”

You deadpanned at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re here to work.”

“Yeah, but—”

You continued your deadfaced stare at him, and he conceded. 

“Fine,” Dean said. 

“May need some of your charm, too; who knows what she’s into?” you suggested, smacking Dean’s ass lightly. 

You smirked over your shoulder at him as you sauntered to the bar. You heard Richie comment, “You feel like sharin’?’ followed by a quick, “Don’t even think about it,” from Dean. 

You looked down the bar to see the priest you’d talked to from the church the latest victim died in talking to the pretty bartender. She turned away from him and to a customer further down the bar from you. 

“Father?” you asked. 

“Knew you kids would find your way here. They all do.”

“No offense, man, but what are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Like it or not, you go where your flock is,” he shrugged.

“Plus, the clergy drinks for free,” the bartender chimed in, handing the man a whiskey neat.

“True, and a certain bartender owes me a confession,” the priest jested. 

“Not in this lifetime, Father,” she replied.

“I better see your butt on Sunday,” he told her, getting up from his chair and leaving. 

“What can I get you, love?” the bartender asked you. 

You leaned up on the bar, pushing your breasts together slightly. “What’s your specialty?” you asked. 

“I make a mean hurricane,” she replied, smirking. 

“We’ll see about that,” you challenged. 

The bartender seemed intrigued by you, and she smiled flirtatiously as she went to make your drink. 

Dean came up next to you at that moment and wrapped an arm around your waist, hand landing close to your ass. “How’s it goin’?” he asked. 

“Just makin’ friends,” you shrugged, grinning. 

“Don’t get too friendly,” he warned. 

You snickered. Suddenly, something near the pool table caught your attention. 

“Hey, what are you doing?!” a man panickedly yelled.

You then noticed the man across from the panicked one was holding a gun. You nodded toward the scene. “Dean—” 

You set off toward the pair, but the man raised the gun and shot the other point-blank. The crowd immediately erupted into chaos as you sprinted over to the man who was raising the gun to his chin. 

Dean tackled the man to the ground, and Sam appeared beside you with holy water. He splashed the holy water on the man, but the man’s skin didn’t sizzle. 

“What are you doing?!” the man exclaimed. He suddenly realized what he'd done and began to writhe on the ground, crying, “He slept with my wife. That bastard slept with my wife!”

You took out your phone and called 911 while Sam and Dean kept the man in a sort of citizen’s arrest. 

When the cops did arrive, Sam seemed to get anxious again despite the bar’s emptiness. “Too many cops here. I say we roll.”

“Just be cool,” Dean encouraged. “Poor jerk. Only thing possessing him was a sixer of Pabst.”

“So, what's the deal, then? People in this town getting possessed or not?” Sam wondered aloud. 

“I don’t know,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows. “Maybe they’re influencin’ ‘em some kind of way?” “Yeah, maybe,” Sam replied. 

“You guys ready for your mug shots?” a police officer asked you and the brothers. Cued by your panicked expressions, the cop tried to soothe your worries. “The photographer's gonna be here in a few and take your picture for the local paper.”

Dean seemed relieved and feigned enthusiasm. “Be an honor, Officer. What a thrill!”

“Yep, time to go,” Sam said, standing.

“Wait a second. Wait a second,” Dean stated, looking around.

“What?’ you and Sam asked in hushed voices. 

“Where’s Richie?”

***

The next day, Dean couldn’t seem to keep his leg from bouncing under the table in his seat beside you at Trotter’s bar. He kept trying Richie’s phone number, but no response ever came. 

“You do realize there's red meat within striking distance, right?” Sam said, referencing the large hamburger sitting in front of Dean. 

“How many times I got to tell Richie he's gonna get himself in trouble?” Dean sighed. 

“Dean, he’s not your responsibility,” you assured him. 

“And you’re assuming he's missing. I mean, maybe he just bailed,” Sam added. 

“He’s a moron,” replied Dean. “I mean, he's a sweet moron, but he's not a coward. He wouldn't just bail. I got to go find him.”

“I’ll go with you,” you said. 

“You guys do that,” Sam said. “Meanwhile, I think I’m gonna trail this Trotter guy.”

“Yeah?” Dean questioned. 

“Yeah. I don't know. Something about the way he looked at me last night.

Maybe there is something going on here.”

***

You and Dean returned to your motel around midday after lunch with Sam at Trotter’s. 

“How well do you even know this guy, Dean?” you asked.

“Well, it’s like I said—” he began as you sat behind your computer screen, “he was toast until I found him. We had a few drinks after, but that was about it.”

You stared at him over the top of your computer screen. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, a love-drunk smile pulling on the ends of your lips. “You’re just sweet.”

“Shuddup,” he mumbled, looking embarrassed. 

“Seriously! You care this much about a dude you don’t even know that you’re having me track the GPS in his phone. It’s adorable,” you replied. 

He kept his head low, but you could see the smile Dean was fighting. “You’re… annoying,” he murmured. 

“Oh, really? I’m annoying?” you smirked, standing from your chair while your laptop screen began to populate with all of Richie’s previous locations over the last week based on his cell phone’s GPS signal. 

Dean caught you by the waist. “Yeah, you are,” he said. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and lazily dragged your nails up his back. He let out a few shuddering breaths. You leaned in to kiss him when a dinging sound came from your computer and forced the two of you apart. You headed back to the laptop and pointed at his last known location. You pulled an image of the coordinates up. 

“Corner of Piermont and Clinton,” you announced. 

“He did mention having plans with that bartender,” Dean said, “maybe that’s where she lives?”

You nodded. “Alright, let’s get goin’.”

You stood to leave, and Dean smacked your ass as you walked off. 

“What was that for?!” you squeaked. 

“ ‘Cause you’re a tease,” Dean smirked. “And still annoying.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and grinned. 

***

After conducting your investigation, you were charged with the task of staying behind to wait for Dean and the bartender. You hid in the shadows of the cellar with your handgun readied. 

You heard Dean’s voice suddenly coming down the stairs toward the cellar. “Looks like the maid's day off,” he commented. “Everything okay?”

You heard the woman kiss Dean, and you nearly jumped out of your hiding spot. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” the woman said. 

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Dean tsked, “Richie was a friend of mine. When I realized I could track the GPS in his cellphone, I swung by earlier. Gave him a proper burial. It's better than rotting in some skank's basement.”

You stepped out from the shadows then, and the bartender launched herself toward Dean. She was suddenly stopped by an invisible barrier. 

“Oops,” Dean smirked. He leaned down to the carpet and lifted the corner to reveal the Devil’s Trap you’d spray painted on the floor while Dean was gone. 

“Isn't that a buzz kill?” the older Winchester smirked.  “Sorry, sister, but you're going back to where you came from.”

“I don't think so,” the bartender laughed. 

You took out the book in your pocket and began to read in Latin. “Exorcizamus te, omnis—” A violent gust of wind blowing past you cut you off, and you saw the demon before you with her eyes closed as though in deep meditation. You recollected yourself and began to read again. “Exorcizamus te—”

The pages were then ripped out of the book by the breeze. The woman opened her eyes and grinned at you.

“(Y/N), look out!” Dean yelled. 

Just then, the bricks from the walls around you began to crumble inward. You dove toward the window to avoid getting hit by falling rocks. Dean rushed to you and helped you up. He turned his gaze to the demon in a glare. The demon grinned. 

“What are you laughing at, bitch? You're still trapped,” Dean growled. 

“So are you, bitch,” she sultrily said. 

“So, what, I send you back to hell, and we rot down here?” you spat. 

“Half the plan. Doubt you’ll be able to do that without your little book,” she smiled. 

“I’m sure I could figure it out,” you said. “Exorcizamus te,” you began with authority, “omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii—”

Dean suddenly gasped out in pain and began to grab at his neck. 

You immediately stopped the ritual. “What are you doing?!” you shouted, sinking to the ground with Dean, “Stop it!”

“Stop trying to ruin my fun, then. You’re good, I’ll give you that,” the demon cooed, Dean suddenly able to breathe again. “But I thought Sam was supposed to be the brains of the outfit.”

“How do you know that?” Dean questioned.

“You Winchester boys are famous. Not Lohan famous, but, y’know,” she shrugged. “And you, (Y/N)—” she hissed out your name— “are making your own way through the circles, too.”

“Well, that's flattering,” Dean commented, “I'll be sure to let Sam know when he gets here.”

“If he shows up first.”

The two of you looked to the bartender, surprised. 

“What, you thought I was flying solo?” she asked mockingly. “You shouldn't underestimate, kids, it might be the death of you.”

You glared at her. 

“You can give me hard eyes all you want,” she replied, “but the fact remains, we just have to wait and see who shows up first… the cavalry,” she smiled, “or the Indians.”

***

“Anybody ever tell you how nice your ass is, (Y/N)?” the bartender drawled from the floor behind you. You stood on top of a cask of wine attempting to get cell reception through the small window daylight streamed in from. 

“Bite me, bitch,” you replied without turning to look at her. 

“Look, why don’t you relax?” she asked you and Dean. 

“Why don't you kiss my ass?” Dean flippantly responded. 

“Why, Dean, you're a poet. I had no idea,” she deadpanned. “Look, we won't have any effect on the outcome of this. We might as well be civil.”

“Civil, huh? Killing Richie, that was— that was civil? The guy was harmless,” Dean countered. 

The demon raised an eyebrow. “That knife he pulled on me? Didn't look so harmless.”

“Ah, a knife wouldn't hurt you,” Dean replied. 

“No, but it would damage this body. And Casey has such a fine body, I wouldn't want to see it ripped.” The demon stretched out lazily on the floor, arching her back. 

“Touching,” you said, jumping down from atop the cask when your efforts proved pointless. “But don’t pretend you have a heart. We know what you did.”

“Hey, I didn't pull any triggers,” the demon possessing Casey shrugged. 

“Yeah?” Dean barked. “You did something.”

“You want to know what I did?” the demon pushed herself into a sitting position. “What I really did? I had lunch.”

“Lunch?” Dean questioned.

“Me and Trotter,” she began. “He had a cheeseburger, I had a salad, and I just pointed out the money that could be made with a few businesses that cater to harmless vice. So Trotter built it, and man, did they come. Supposedly god-fearing folk, waist-deep in booze, sex, and gambling. I barely lifted a finger.”

“That’s it?” you scoffed. 

“You don't get it. All you gotta do is nudge humans in the right direction,” Casey continued. “Some whiskey here, a hooker there, and they'll walk right into hell with big, fat smiles on their faces. Your kind is corrupt, kids. Weak. Our will's stronger. That's why we'll win.”

“And that’s how this ends?” you pushed. 

“No. That's how it begins.”

“So, demons take over,” you continued. “And you’re convinced that’ll work… how?”

“Yeah, I thought the meek shall inherit the earth,” Dean piled on. 

Casey rolled her eyes. “Oh, according to your Bible. It's only a book, Dean.”

“Not everyone would agree,” Dean replied simply. 

You stared at him strangely, and he shrugged in response. 

“Because it's god's book?” Casey pressed. “Do you believe in god, Dean? I'd be surprised if you did.”

“I don’t know,” Dean said honestly. “I'd like to.”

“Well, god’s done a bang-up job in my opinion,” you said, unable to help yourself. 

“Finally, someone who makes sense,” Casey snickered. “I like you, (Y/N).” She returned her focus to Dean. “War, genocide; it's only getting worse. I mean, this past century, you people racked up a body count that amazed even us. It's our turn, now, and we're gonna do it right this time.”

Dean heard a noise and turned his face up to the grate you’d tried getting cell service from. 

“Don't be hopeful, Dean. You're not delivered. It's only the wind,” Casey commented. 

Despite yourself, you laughed. 

Dean and Casey turned their attention toward you. 

“Whose side are you on there, sweetheart?” Dean questioned, slightly pointedly. 

“Sorry. Demon or not, she’s funny.” You cleared your throat and regained your composure. “You keep talking about this ‘endgame.’ Pretty vague. How am I supposed to even know there is one?”

“Why would I lie?” she countered. 

“Demons lie,” Dean replied. 

“Some do. Some are true believers.”

“Believers in what?” you pressed. 

Casey scoffed. “What, you think humans have an exclusive on a higher power?”

Dean looked shocked, as did you. “You have a god?” Dean asked. 

“Sure,” the demon shrugged. “His name's Lucifer.”

You deflated and crossed your arms. “You mean the devil.”

“You don’t seem impressed,” Casey noted, seeming intrigued by you. 

“ ‘Cause I’m not,” you replied. “No offense, but he doesn’t exactly put the fear of god in me.”

“Well, he should,” she told you. “Once, he was the most beautiful of all god's angels. But god demanded that he bow down before man, and when he refused, god banished him. Tell me, how do you like bowing before lesser creatures?”

“Lucifer's really real?” Dean wondered aloud. 

“Well, no one's actually seen him,” Casey explained, “but they say that he made us into what we are, and they say that he'll return.”

“Oh, gimme a break,” you said, slumping to the floor. 

“What? Is faith such a laughable concept to you?” Casey remarked. 

“Absolutely,” you said coldly. 

“Well, you’d better start believing. A lot of you humans are in for a real treat when this is all over,” she said coolly. “Dick Cheney?”

“He one of yours?” Dean asked.

“Not yet. Let's just say, he's got a parking spot reserved for him downstairs.”

Dean laughed despite himself before pausing a moment. “Hey, speaking of downstairs… What's it like down there?”

“What, Hell?”

Dean nodded. 

“That's right,” Casey smirked. “You booked a one-way ticket with that deal.”

Dean laughed in discomfort, and you eyed him sympathetically. 

“You're not gonna like it, Dean,” the demon said honestly. “And, um, judging from the trouble you've caused, I don't think you'll be getting the presidential suite. No, it's a pit of despair. Why do you think we want to come here?”

Dean looked somber, as did you. You knew better than to reach your hand out to comfort him, and you just sat against the wall with your knees tucked into your chest.

A few moments passed before Casey spoke up again. “Kind of funny, don't you think? Three of us sitting here like regular folk.”

“Yeah, it's hilarious,” Dean deadpanned, “y’know, in that… apocalyptic sort of way.”

“You're all right, Dean,” Casey said seriously.

Dean scoffed, and you flicked your eyes between your love and Casey.

“The others don't describe you that way. But, you know, you're— you're likable.”

“Well, keep how much you like ‘im to yourself, sister,” you spat. 

“Jealous, are we?” Casey mused. “Don’t worry, darlin’. He’s all yours.”

“A demon likes me,” was all Dean could think to say. “Sorry, I don't know how to respond to that.”

“You could say thanks,” she mocked. “That deal you made to save Sam; a lot of others would mock you for it, think it was weak or stupid. I don't.”

Dean paused for a moment. “It's been kind of liberating, actually. Y’know, what's the point in worrying about a future, when you don't have one?”

Your eyes saddened upon hearing that. You cast your gaze down to the floor, knowing you’d cry if you looked at Dean.

“Still, a year left. You're not scared?” Casey asked. 

“Nah.”

“Not even a little?”

“Of course not.” However, you caught the briefest bit of hesitation in his voice. 

Dean then seemed to notice your sadness. “Hey, I’m—”

“Save it,” you said, feeling brave enough to look up at him. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Didn’t mean to cause any trouble in paradise,” Casey snickered. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” you asked pointedly. 

“I’m an open book,” the demon shrugged. 

“So, the gate opened. The demon army was let out. What now, huh?” you questioned. “I'm not seeing a big master plan here.”

“Honestly, there was a plan,” she replied. “Azazel was a tyrant, but he held us all together.”

“Azazel?” you and Dean asked in unison. 

“What, you think his friends just called him ‘Yellow Eyes’? He had a name. After you did him in—” Casey nodded toward you, “it all fell apart.”

You smirked. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

The demon cut her eyes at you in challenge. 

“So, what? No chain of command?” Dean pressed.

“There was. It was Sam. Sam was supposed to be the grand pooh-bah and lead the big army, but he hasn't exactly stepped up to the plate, has he?”

“Thank god for that,” Dean breathed out. 

“Again with god,” Casey groaned. “You think this is a good thing? Now you've got chaos, a war without a front, hundreds of demons all jockeying for power, all fighting for the crown. Most of them, gunning for your brother.” She looked toward a conflicted Dean, becoming incredibly serious. “For the record, I was ready to follow Sam.”

Before you could ask anymore questions, you heard Sam call yours and Dean’s names.

“Sam?!” you and Dean called, scrambling to your feet. 

“Looks like you win,” Casey smirked. 

You weren’t too sure that you actually had. “What’s that look for—” 

Your question was cut off by a loud pounding on the door. 

“Dean!” you heard Sam calling. 

“Sam!” Dean replied. “Sammy, down here! The basement caved in!” Sam’s voice appeared at the grate you’d been trying to get cell reception through. “Guys, hold on, okay? We’re coming.”

“Who’s we?” you asked.

“I’m here with the father.”

You whipped back around to Casey who seemed almost excited. 

“Sam, be careful—” 

And then suddenly, a gunshot was heard. 

“Sam!” Dean called. 

Then, the rocks covering the entrance to the cellar began to move aside. In came the pastor, who you attempted to rush. You were thrown to the wall and fell to the ground painfully. 

When you recovered, you stood to see the priest and Casey passionately kissing outside the Devil’s Trap. 

“You two?” Dean questioned, face twisting up in disgust. 

“For centuries,” the priest nodded. “We've been to Hell and back, literally.”

“Leave ‘em be,” Casey told the pastor.

He didn’t listen to her and approached Dean, grabbing him by the throat. You tried to rush him again, but you were held to the wall by the priest’s power. 

“Don't kill him. Let's just go,” Casey begged. “Please.”

Sam appeared at that moment and shot the priest without hesitation. Lightning emitted from the priest’s wound, eyes, and chest, and he slumped to the ground. 

“Sam, wait!” Dean told him. 

But it was too late. Casey suffered the same fate as the priest. You looked to the two real human bodies on the ground and mourned a little for both of the humans behind their demonic state. 

***

“I cannot believe you ransacked Richie’s stash,” you told Dean as he rolled a joint under the cover of night sitting on the hood of the Impala. 

“Well, not like he can use it anymore,” Dean shrugged. “Besides, it’s a tribute to him.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. You took out your lighter and took the joint from your partner. While you lit up, Dean asked you a question. “What do you think? About what we did here; you think it made a difference?”

“I don’t know. Humans aren’t our job, but still,” you replied after taking a hit, “it’s kinda weird leaving knowing things may never be resolved.”

“Yeah, I mean, maybe these people do just want to really destroy themselves. Maybe it is—” Dean seemed to struggle for a moment to find the words, “a losing battle.” He took the joint back from you and took a hit. 

“Is that you or the demon chick talking?” you asked playfully, nudging your shoulder with his. Although, you knew he knew you were seriously asking him.

“Oh, it’s me,” Dean replied. “Demon’s very dead.”

“Well, had to be done, I guess,” you shrugged. “Sam was saving your life.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know, (Y/N),” Dean started, shaking his head and passing the joint back to you, “it was cold.”

“I agree,” you nodded. You took a deep breath and slowly let a cloud of smoke pass through your lips. 

“Back in Wyoming,” Dean began, “there was this moment. Yellow Eyes said something to me.”

You looked to him expectantly, taking a second hit. 

“That maybe when… Sam came back from, well, wherever, that maybe he came back different.”

“Different how?” you questioned, cocking your head to the side. 

“I don't know. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. You think— You think something's wrong with my brother?”

You considered for a moment. You knew no matter how you answered, Dean wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew for sure. You opted for attempting to provide him comfort. “No. Demons lie. I'm sure Sam's okay.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[skzhocomments]

Clingy - Bang Chan Oneshot Fanfic

General Masterlist

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x OC (name: Aera. Story is written in 2nd person)

Genre: angst, fluff

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: a little angst, crying

This is just a story that doesn’t describe Bang Chan or other mentioned Stray Kids’ members true characters in any way. It’s just a product of my imagination and should be treated as such.

This story is also on Wattpad (click here) and AO3 (click here)

---

Summary

You overhear Chan and Jisung talking about how clingy you are, and it really hurts your feelings.

A/N: As any other writer out there, I would appreciate reblogs and your comments on this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and most importantly, have fun!

© all rights reserved by skzhocomments (Tumblr), skzho (Tumblr)/ storminsidemycore (Wattpad), storminsidemycore (AO3)

---

Clingy

"Is Aera coming over today?"

"Probably."

"Tsk. She's always here. Don't you find it annoying?"

You were just outside the door when this conversation between Chris and Jisung stopped you dead in your tracks.

You've been dating Chris for just shy of a year now, and you figured out early in the relationship that he never has free time. He's a workaholic through and through, starting his days with early practice and finishing them with late nights in the studio. Thus, you came up with a solution: whenever you wouldn't be working night shifts, you would come visit him in the studio and keep him company.

You never interrupted or bothered him. You just watched him work, stealing occasional kisses when he'd take short breaks, taking care of him, bringing him food (as he more often than not forgot to eat balanced meals completely), giving him water when his bottle would run out, and massaging his shoulders when he'd feel particularly stiff.

You never considered yourself to be annoying, until now. And although you shouldn't listen to other people's conversations, you just had to know what your boyfriend thought about it.

"Annoying? How so?" Chris asked.

"I mean, she's being so clingy. She always wants to see you or be around you and she's coming by, like, every day. It seems exhausting."

"Oh... Yeah, I see what you mean. Well..."

"What?" Jisung chuckles.

"She is a bit clingy, yeah."

"It annoys me sometimes. I miss our bonding time in the studio." Jisung chuckles again.

"Yeah, it would be nice to sometimes have time to ourselves. Sure." Chan chuckles as well, and you start feeling your heart break into a million pieces with every word you hear.

"Oh, so you also find her a bit... of a nuisance?"

"I wouldn't say that... But she does suffocate me sometimes, I won't lie."

You truly didn't know that Chris viewed you as suffocating. He's never told you.

If he had, you would've never started to come to the studio.

Why did he even give you an access key?

Already on the verge of tears, you decide to turn around and give Chris what he obviously wants: time away from you. Just as you do, you see Changbin walking towards the studio.

"Aera!" He exclaims and runs to you happily, taking you in his arms and spinning you around. You've become close friends ever since you started dating Chan, and this was how he always said hi to you.

"Binnie!" You ruffle his hair and smile back.

"Did you come visit? Let's go." He grabs your hand, and before being able to protest, he opens the door and drags you inside.

You try to keep on smiling as you say hi to your boyfriend and Jisung, but now that you're aware of their true feelings towards you being here, you can't help but notice every small detail. Chris and Jisung give each other a knowing look, and you notice it. You just know it's because you are there again.

You wonder if Changbin feels the same way, if he also finds you annoying and suffocating.

Your chest is tight, and it's getting hard to pretend that everything is okay. It's difficult to breathe. You can't even bring yourself to speak much, afraid that Chris will find you smothering, so your words get stuck in your throat, choking you.

You don't even laugh much at their jokes, and you wonder how everything can change in just a span of 10 minutes. The studio used to be a safe space for you, where you could relax and be yourself, but it now feels like a cage.

It seemed like you could now notice all sorts of things you weren't able to notice before. Although Chan is his usual self, it somehow feels different to you.

He doesn't want to spend time with me; runs through your head repeatedly, and with every passing minute, it's getting harder and harder to stay there.

You want to leave.

No, you need to leave.

Your eyes are watering up and the pressure in your chest is crushing you; the throbbing pain in your heart is getting too much; your eyes start to water again; and you need, you need to find an excuse and run away from this place.

You have to come up with something - anything convincing enough so that Chris won't bat an eye. Something that wouldn't be too obvious a lie.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaim, and the three men in the room look at you with questioning eyes.

"What's wrong?" Chris asks.

"I just remembered! Fuck! I promised Jia I'm taking over her shift tonight! Shit! I have to go!" You jolt up from the sofa and grab your bag hastily.

I have to get out.

I have to get out.

I have to get out.

"Oh, no! Want me to drive you?" Chris asks as he stands up as well.

"No, don't worry. I know you have work to do." You smile briefly, then wave to Jisung and Changbin and begin to turn around.

"You sure?" Chan grabs your hand, making you look at him.

"Yeah. If I leave now, I'll make it just in time."

"Ok, babe. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure." You smile as he presses his lips against yours briefly, before you part from him.

"Text me when you get there, so I know you're safe."

"Will do, bye bye!" You turn around and leave the room with haste, and once you're finally alone in the elevator, with the doors closed and already moving towards the ground floor, you break down.

It's hard to stop the tears from flowing, the overwhelming sadness completely taking over you, and you feel every piece of you ache. It shouldn't hurt this much. He didn't say he didn't love you. He simply said you're suffocating.

It's not that bad.

Is it?

You realise that Chris is right; you are smothering. You've always been the clingier one in the relationship, and maybe it's time to take a step back and stop being so keen on spending time with your boyfriend.

Maybe you should simply let him initiate whatever outings he wants, whenever he has time, and you'll see to your hobbies and occupy your mind with something else but him.

You get home and join a class right away. You don't even notice what you've clicked on.

Pottery, apparently.

Whatever.

This will do.

~

"She still hasn't texted me."

"Hm? What did you say, Hyung?" Han raises his head from his notebook. They've been working on a new song for a few hours now, and whenever Jisung writes lyrics, he gets completely absorbed in them, not noticing anything else.

"I said, she still hasn't texted me. How many hours has it been since she left for her shift?" Chan asks uneasily. You've always texted him to let him know you're safe, so this felt completely out of character for you.

"Maybe she just forgot." Jisung shrugs.

"Have you tried calling her?" Changbin asks.

"Yeah, I did... she won't pick up either."

As he answers this, Chan's breath hitches in his throat. What if something happened? What if you've had an accident, or fell and hit your head, or- it was already pretty dark out when you left.

Why the fuck did he let you go alone? He should've taken you to the restaurant himself.

Fuck, why are you still working there anyway? He's told you time and time again that he can take care of you while you search for a job in your field. He knows how hard you've worked for your diploma and how disappointed you've been after searching for months on end with no results.

Why didn't you want to take him up on the offer? That would mean all the free time in the world, and more importantly, no night shifts.

"I'm sure she's fine, Hyung." Changbin puts a comforting hand on Chan's shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. "But if you're that worried, you could go to the restaurant. It's not far from here anyway."

"Is that okay?" He asks anxiously.

"Yeah. We can manage just fine for a couple hours, don't worry."

With a short nod, Chan stands up and grabs his coat.

"You're just as clingy as her." Jisung chuckles slightly. "Message us when you're there."

"Will do!"

~

Chris runs hastily to the elevator and clicks on the button for the underground parking lot, then hurries to his car. The ride to the restaurant is less than 10 minutes long, and he curses once more for not taking you himself.

He couldn't even spare 10 minutes for you.

Fuck.

He's definitely never felt shittier...

... until he reaches the restaurant, goes inside, and sees that you're nowhere in sight.

"Chris? Oh, hi! I almost didn't recognise you with your cap on. What are you doing here?" A girl approaches him with a large smile.

"Jia? I thought you weren't working tonight?" He stares at the girl in front of him in confusion.

"Yeah, I am." The girl replies, just as confused.

"Oh... is Aera here?"

"No, she's working day shifts this month. Hasn't she told you?"

"She did, I just thought... whatever, nevermind." Chan waves his hand and smiles. "Thanks."

"You didn't have a fight, did you?" Jia asks with a worried expression on her face.

Chan didn't know. Did you?

"... no, we didn't. Thank you, Jia. Have a nice shift!" He waves and leaves the restaurant, and as soon as he's back in the car, he takes his phone out to call you again, when he notices a text.

~

Sorry Channie, it's been chaotic at work, and I couldn't check my phone until now. I forgot to text you to let you know all's okay. I got there safe &lt;3

~

He freezes.

You lied. You've never lied to him before.

Why?

He decides not to call your bluff and plays along. You surely have a reason to lie to him, and he wants you to come forward yourself instead of having to confront you.

You're safe. That's all that matters.

Or that's what he's trying to tell himself, although doubts start running rampant in his mind. Your behaviour today has been weird, ever since you came to the studio. You avoided eye contact, you invented an excuse to leave after not even 20 minutes, you lied that you're going to the restaurant, and you haven't even messaged him to let him know you've gotten there, or home, or wherever the heck you've gone, safely.

With a sigh, he starts the engine and drives back to the studio.

~

"Babe, can you give me some water, please?" Chan asks in a quiet voice as he's trying to perfect a beat he's been working on. It's 2AM already, and he's growing tired.

When you don't answer, he asks something again, this time in a whisper.

"Did you fall asleep?"

There's still no answer coming from you, so he turns his chair around to see you, and then the realisation hits him.

You're not there.

In fact, he can't even remember the last time you've come to the studio to keep him company.

He noticed that ever since that night you lied to him, you've been acting strange. You no longer text him unless he texts you first; you don't initiate any dates or activities with him; and most importantly, you're never there.

He misses you.

Did you fall out of love? Are you trying to let him down slowly by spending less and less time with him?

Shit, he never expected love to hurt as much as it does. Your absence hurts.

He grabs his phone to text you, hoping that you're not asleep. It takes you 12 minutes to reply. 12 minutes that passed by agonisingly slowly, but he's at least grateful you actually replied. Waiting until morning would've been torture.

As soon as he sees your text, he calls you.

"Yeah?" You reply, your voice small. You always sound like this when you've just woken up.

Fuck, when was the last time Chan woke up next to you?

"Sorry, babe, did I wake you up?"

"Mhm. What's wrong?"

"I just- can I come over?"

"Now?" You reply, still sounding asleep.

"Yeah. I really want to see you."

"You have a key though..." You yawn. "... why ask me?"

"... I know. I'll be there in 10 minutes, okay?"

"Mkay."

Chan makes his way to the parking lot and checks his wallet, phone, and the keys to your place a hundred times. When he's sure he has everything, he starts driving. He usually loves late–night drives, but his heart is now ridden with anxiety, which makes it completely unpleasant .

In front of your door, he contemplates once more using your key. He used to use it and come over all the time, but he's been so stumped with work as of late that he can't even remember when the last time he's been here was.

The apartment is quiet and dark, so he does his best to not disturb the peace as he walks hesitantly through the hallway until the bedroom.

The lights are turned off in the bedroom as well, and you're now fast asleep again. Still, he comes behind you and spoons you; he lets his face come close to your head and takes in your familiar scent as he hugs you.

"You're home?" You ask quietly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine." You yawn again.

"I missed you so much." He whispers, and you hum.

"Mhm. I missed you too."

"Do you... still love me?"

"What?" You ask, your voice audibly more awake now. "Of course I still love you, Channie. What kind of question is that?"

"You've been so... distant lately. You don't even come over anymore."

"Look who's talking." You chuckle slightly. "When's the last time you've been here?"

"... you're right. But..."

"I'm sorry." You whisper, feeling yourself on the verge of crying again. "I do still love you, but... I was suffocating you. Maybe it's better that we spend less time together now."

"What?" Chan sits up on the bed, leaving you feeling empty and your back cold. You sit up as well and turn on your lamp, and looking at his face breaks your heart. His eyes are glistening with tears, matching yours like a mirror.

"You... you said you feel suffocated by me... I know I'm too clingy, so..."

"Wait! No... When- when did I say that to you?" He frowns. "Maybe I've just-"

"To me?" You smile bitterly, cutting him off. "Never. But you told Jisung how suffocating I am and how you sometimes just want time on your own, so... I'm giving you that."

As soon as he hears your words, he remembers. He had one conversation about this with Jisung, which he realised was bullshit anyway when he noticed how much he thinks about you and how lonely he feels when you're not there.

"Baby, I-"

"Don't even bother denying it, Chris. I heard it."

You look away as you feel like starting to cry again, and tears start falling immediately after. Fuck, it's pathetic, really.

"Aera, look at me, please. I didn't mean to deny it..." He pleads with you, but it's hard to listen to him and raise your head. It's so damn hard to see him.

When Chris sees you won't budge, he doesn't know what to do. You're crying and shaking, and it's all because of him. He's hurt you.

He thinks about how he could make it better and decides to hug you tightly.

"Baby, look... I did say that, and I'm truly sorry. I was so, so wrong. Yes, you are clingy, but fuck, I don't want it any other way. I've missed you so much these past weeks."

You stand silent and just listen to him.

"I kept turning my chair around to look at you and you were never there. I kept checking my phone but there were no messages from you. I didn't even know if I could still use the key you gave me, or if you're not comfortable with that anymore..."

"Channie, how can you even think that?" You cry out, and he hugs you tighter. "This is your home too."

"I'm truly sorry... I've been up in my ass with work and neglected you completely, and only realised how much I need you by my side when you were gone..."

"Yeah." You whisper.

"Are we going to be fine...?"

"... Yeah, we are. Just... please tell me if it gets too much, mhm?"

"It won't." He kisses your forehead as he smiles slightly. "Thank you for forgiving me. But Aera, you know? You also lied to me." He chuckles. "You didn't have any shifts that night."

"I'm sorry... I was hurt, and- wait, how do you know that?"

"I went to the restaurant to check on you, and Jia was really confused to see me there." He lets go of you and grabs your face with his hands, running his thumb over your cheeks and wiping away all the tears.

"I just... felt so horrible. Hearing you say that I'm suffocating you was like a punch in the gut. I'm so sorry I was too clingy."

He shakes his head and presses his lips against yours.

"Please be clingy from now on. I thought it felt suffocating, but I actually got so used to the warmth of your attention, that being without it felt utterly depressing. So, please, keep clinging to me."

"... okay." You nod.

"And please come by and spend time with me in the studio again, hm? What about tomorrow evening? We can have dinner together, and then you can come hang out with me. If you want to, of course."

"Oh, actually-" She chuckles slightly, "I can't have dinner with you tomorrow, sorry. I can come after 9 to the studio, though."

"Why?" He tilts his head.

"Well, you see...?" You rub your nape, "I have a pottery class from 7:30."

"Pottery?" Chan laughs in disbelief. "When did that happen?"

"When I decided to fill my days with something else to keep me from thinking about you all the time." You smile sadly, and he pouts.

"But I want you to think about me all the time. I also think about you all the time."

"The pottery class will last for a few more weeks, so you'll have to make do." You poke his nose playfully, and he is quick to scrunch it.

"You're punishing me." He kisses you again. "Do you like making pottery?"

"Honestly? I'm shit at it." You say, and both of you burst out laughing.

"I didn't ask you if you're a pro or not. Only if you enjoy it."

"Mhm... I think I do." You smile.

"That's amazing. Show me what you've worked on."

You excitedly grab your phone and show him all the photos and videos you've taken in the past few weeks, explaining the techniques you've learned and how much you've been struggling to keep up with the class, and Chris listens attentively.

By the time you're done talking, it's almost 5 AM, and both of you are barely able to keep your eyes open.

"So, now that we're okay, should we head to sleep?" You ask, and Chris caresses your arm gently.

"Yeah. Let's sleep. Good night, my love."

"Good night."

He kisses the back of your head, and you both fall into a deep, restful slumber.

~The End~

[akutasoda]

amongst the star anise

synopsis - a conflicted topic arises again and he can't figure out a proper remedy

includes - jiaoqiu

warnings - gn!reader, angst, slight fluff, confessions?, maybe ooc, wc - 1.2k

a/n: kinda all over the place but whatever, he lives rent free in my head

jiaoqiu was always dedicated to practicing medicine and by extent and association, cooking - it was more of a passion of his per say. although some might consider it a bit forced or dictated seeing as he did come from a prestigious alchemy commission family.

however, the foxian hadn't always been so lucky in terms of maintaining his dedication to his practice. as rumour has it, jiaoqiu once withdrew from practicing medicine due to a broken heart - it was only a rumour spread around the xianzhou yaoqing because nobody knew the truth, the only thing that was true was that jiaoqiu would make sure it remained as a rumour.

however he would admit in secret, if it hadn't been for general feixiao, he doubted he would've bounced back as quickly as he did - he only returned to the field because he was needed, not because he wanted to. nowadays he probably would call his old self weak and over reactive but in everyday life it was obvious to himself that he clearly still saw himself that way deep down.

it was especially obvious when he started avoiding you, by no fault on your end but it certainly felt that way. it became quite obvious that the pink foxian was trying to avoid you at all costs - you'd see him across a crowd but by the time you got there, he would've disappeared or if you managed to catch him when he's talking with someone, he'd finish his conversation and pretend like you didn't exist.

but what confused you most was the fact that he would randomly change and act like normal. you understood the fact that he could be quite frustrating at times but this seemed a tad extreme. one week he'd act like you two friends, which you were, and the next he'd avoid you like you were mara-struck. all without a single explanation or even acknowledgment at any time, and understandably it started annoying you.

all you wanted was an explanation for why he recently started acting like that sonetimes but it seemed impossible as anytime you brought it up when he was back to 'normal', he'd brush you off and smack the top of your head with his fan before walking away. eventually, you started ignoring him aswell. it wasn't really your fault because jiaoqiu had really worn down your tolerance for his behaviour, some were baffled you put up with his antics for as long as you did.

unfortunately, it only really gave him a reason to annoy you further - he could surprisingly brcome more cunning when he realised you were ignoring him. however jiaoqiu wasn't stupid, he knew why you began ignoring him in the first place. in truth, jiaoqiu was scared, over reactive and weak even. he returned to practice medicine because he had to and so he never exactly had gotten over his reason to withdraw in the first place.

a small while after he returned, he met you and it was like he was falling head over heels all over again. except this time he kept his cunning and mischievous facade up and refused to let himself get hurt again. except he greatly overestimated just how much his heart longed for you and your presence. throughout all his years of counselling and practicing medicine, the only solution he could think of was pushing you away. although this solution only seemed to worsen the problem.

everytime he pushed you away and tried to force you out of his life, he'd make a promise to himself that he needed to do so and that it was for the best. but every single time, there would come a time where he needed you or wanted to see you and then he'd go back to normal and refuse to acknowledge his change in behaviour. he knew how it affected you, it was cruel for the both of you - it must be, even if you didn't know why - but he just couldn't get along without you not could he bare to put his heart on the line again.

now more than ever, jiaoqiu realised that his solution perhaps wasn't the best remedy. he'd pushed you away and now you were reciprocating that action, he needed to figure out another solution.

you had come to find a note addressed to you not too long after you started ignoring jiaoqiu, it wasn't signed but you knew very well who it was from. you'd overheard a couple of people complaining avout the increasing spiciness of jiaoqiu's dishes, to the point where the spiciness wasn't even flavourful. you'd also had people comment on the fact that he trailed after you when you ignored him, constantly vying for your attention by trying his best to garner your attention.

so admittedly you were curious as to what he wanted to tell you, and so you found yourself heading to the location detailed in his note. you found it rather comical to see the usually extremely composed jiaoqiu pacing back and forth. as you got closer you noticed how he stopped and waited, although you could still tell he was somewhat anxious about something because his tail was swishing back and forth.

jiaoqiu looked like he had something to say, but it appeared that whatever it was, was something that proved to be difficult for him to say. he kept going to say something but stopping and he hid rhe lower half of his face with his fan, presumably to hide his embarrassment - you'd never seen jiaoqiu so out of character before. he was practically infatuated with you but he didn't like it, not because if you but because he didn't want to risk another broken heart.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.14

A/n: Apologies for how long this part has taken to get to you and that it is short but being an adult has got a bit in the way of writing! Unfortunately I've no guarantees of how often I will be updating the story but know that I haven't forgotten about it and thanks to all of you still around for it.

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

Previous part - On indefinite hiatus

---

The next morning, y/n was sat at the table in the bunkhouse, bowl of cereal in front of her as she watched Colby mix himself some smoothie concoction she didn’t understand.  The rest of the hands sat around the table with her making quiet conversation as they all began to liven up in preparation for the day.

“Surprised we didn’t hear anything from you lovebirds last night,” teased Jake who was met with a glare.

Y/n pointed her spoon threateningly at him, “just because I’ve spent the last 8 years in the company of you heathens doesn’t mean I don’t still have some class.”

“Is that so?” He questioned.

She nodded, “that and if I wanted to do that I have a much bigger bed in the house not surrounded by snoring ranch hands.”

“I can confirm it’s comfy as fuck and y’all should be jealous,” Ryan added smugly.

Y/n pulled a face at him, “please never suggest that these… boys… should ever be jealous of you being in bed with me.”

“I second that,” Lloyd voiced from his position next to the coffee machine, “I can only threaten one of you at a time.”

She rolled her eyes, “between you, Rip and my brothers it’s no wonder I waited so long for him to make a move.”

“Lloyd was the first one to threaten me,” Ryan admitted.

Y/n’s eyes widened, “old man I didn’t know you had it in you.  I’m impressed.”

Conversation faded out as the door to the bunkhouse opened and Rip came in to start their day.  His gaze fell on where Ryan’s arm rested on the back of y/n’s chair.  She stood up quickly, making an excuse about wanting to work one of the colts before Travis arrived later that morning.  Rip chose to comment on the fact that she’d already told him the young horses were having the day off.  

He caught her by the arm as she went to leave, “we’ll talk about this later.”

-/-/-

After finishing the morning work in the barn, y/n led Comanche out to where Jake was watching Jimmy tack his horse up.

“Thought you weren’t coming out to the herd today?” He asked upon seeing that the gelding was tacked up.

She nodded and passed the reins across, “Dad wants me to run an eye over Travis’ prospects and seeing how Dandy is off and I don’t think either of us are comfortable with the starters going out yet I figured you could run him for me today.  Besides he could do with being ridden by someone else once in a while.”

“I’ll look after him for ya,” Jake assured taking the reins, “pick us a good one.”

Y/n laughed, “if Jamie has anything to say about it we won’t be getting anything.” 

With the rest of the hands mounted up, y/n watched them ride out then turned to find a way to avoid Rip for as long as possible.  Her solution was the stall Dandy was chilling in for a few days whilst the stone bruise in her hoof healed.  Swinging by the tack room for her grooming bag, y/n spent the next hour giving the dappled mare a head-to-toe pamper.

After a while, she was pulled out of her routine by the sound of trucks coming down the drive followed by a truck horn.  Y/n groaned, knowing that Travis had just announced his arrival to the ranch meaning that Rip, Jamie and her dad would be expecting her outside shortly.  Patting the mare’s neck, she collected her stuff and exited the barn.

Standing in the driveway outside the barn, leaning against his truck watching his prospects being unloaded from the trailer, was Travis Wheately.  During her time on the circuit nearly a decade ago, y/n had become familiar with the horse trainer, although perhaps not as close as he had wanted them to be.

“Looking as gorgeous as ever y/n,” he greeted her.

She rolled her eyes, “it hasn’t worked for 10 years.  I don’t know why you still try.”

“It’s in my blood darlin’” Travis joked, “your dad around yet?”

Y/n shook her head, “he’ll be down shortly with Jamie who’ll no doubt spoil all my fun.”

“You know if you ever want to try your hand as a reiner, just say the word and I’ll make something happen.”

She smiled at him, “you know one of these days if the ranch ever doesn’t need me I might just take you up on that offer but I’m quite happy where I am right now.”

“Your talent is wasted being a ranch hand,” Travis responded, “least you can do is talk your dad into making good choices.”

Y/n laughed, “if it were up to me this wouldn’t even be a conversation.  We’d get a good one to prove but unfortunately Jamie has to be involved.  And apparently he thinks he knows best when it comes to this.  God knows the last time he worked a horse.”

“Maybe between you and Rip you’ll win out,” he offered.

---

@child-of-of-the-sunshine @kendallroydefender @qardasngan @thecobraghost @little-diable @hawkeyetrained @pkawaiidesu5394 @fanboysfangirl

[rivendell-poet]

❝𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐄𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡?❞ « one-shot »

Pairing : Legolas X Reader

Wordcount : 4.3k

No TWs | Gender-neutral reader | Elf!reader | First part of this work

(Legolas POV - Italics means the dialogue is Elvish)

The first time Legolas had met you, or rather truly spoken to you, he was trying to solve a riddle from one of the books he’d procured in Rivendell. It wasn’t all a riddle book, most of it was a collection of Elvish poetry along with the occasional story or song, but he’d finished all of it, along with the other three riddles in that book, yet he still couldn’t figure this one out.

He’d taken to asking around for an answer to it, or at least for help, but because of the fact it was in Elvish only Aragorn and you could understand it. And Legolas quickly discovered that, despite his many good qualities, riddles and their solutions were not Aragorn’s strong suit. Which had left you to ask.

Legolas approached you quietly, as he always did, but you’d still heard him and turned around to greet him, smiling slightly as you shuffled closer to him.

He probably would have walked over to you even if he’d know the answer to the riddle, so he could see that pretty smile and talk to you for a bit. But what was he thinking? He had come here to ask you about a riddle, not to admire and stare (hopefully not too obviously) at you in the afternoon light.

“Do you need anything?” You asked, looking briefly at him and then at the book in his hands. Legolas smiled, and then took a few steps to sit down beside you, “Yes, actually. I’ve been reading this for a while now, and one of the riddles in it, I simply cannot understand. I was wondering if you could offer me your advice?”

You looked up at him for a second, then gestured to the book still in his hands, “May I?”

“Of course,” he began, as both of you reached for the other, there was a brief moment as his hand met yours. Just a brief touch, but Legolas could feel the tips of his ears turn a slight shade of pink, and thanked Valar that they were hidden behind his hair.

For a second he risked a glance at you, and then your ears, to see if he could perhaps spot the same thing? It was a silly idea, to think that you would be interested in him, but some part of him wanted to see anyway. But there was almost nothing on your cheeks, a faint rosy hue, but something that could easily have come from the heat of today. And Legolas wasn’t about to make assumptions, it would be unfair of him to spring unwanted feelings onto you, especially since the two of you had barely spoken.

You had now taken the book from him, and had begun to stare at the well pondered over page, reading the Elvish riddle with a slight frown. Then you looked up at him, “This is the riddle about what it cannot do, right? How it says ‘cannot be seen, cannot be felt’?”

“Yes, have you heard of it before?”

“Ok, it is. And yes, it’s one of the more common ones used in Rivendell. Children generally use it all the time, they think they're so clever when they get it right, or that they’re an idiot when they don’t,” you paused for a second, and Legolas hoped you wouldn’t see the hurt in his eyes. Was it really that common of a riddle in Rivendell, yet he hadn’t figured it out?

You looked closer at him at that point, and he felt a bit of blush take over the embarrassment, “Oh - no. I didn’t mean it like that, it’s an annoying riddle to know the answer to,” you almost stumbled over your words. “Besides, I don’t like riddles anyway,” you trailed off, as if to say something more.

But whatever you were going to say didn’t matter so much, and Legolas felt himself smiling again, it wasn’t that he’d been being foolish, the riddle was just a harder one. Then he felt himself smile again, and he turned back to you in a lightly teasing tone, “It’s ok to call me a fool . I haven’t exactly the best record when it comes to riddles or poetry.”

You had let yourself slouch a little now, and a new, still just as beautiful, but less tense smile was on your face now, “Well, I’m awful at it too. We may suffer its confusion together,” at that, a laugh escaped him, as well as a small one from you, and he felt his heart grow lighter still. Was it really normal for him to have feelings about another elf so rapidly?

There was a brief, although not awkward, pause as the two of you sat together, before he could see Frodo begin to get up again, causing Aragorn to follow him. “We shall continue going forward, I want to get to the edges of these fields by midnight,” Aragorn proclaimed, looking around and slightly into the distance, before turning back to you, “Will you take the front?”

You had gotten yourself up at that point, “Of course. The ring-bearer in the middle?”

There was nodding, and small conversation struck up between the fellowship as they decided where to go in their march. Like most days, Legolas turned to Aragorn and then Gandalf, as he would walk by them, but both were already in company with one of the hobbits. He looked once more, not particularly wanting to be walking with the dwarf, or with whatever chaos Merry and Pippin were sure to bring. Stepping ahead again, he caught up to you, “May I scout with you? My usual marching partners have both found someone else, and I would like to appreciate the views with someone.”

That was the first time you two had walked together, and Legolas could feel the nervous beating in his heart as he asked, and waited for an answer. He could feel the strong blush in his ears, and the thankfully lighter on dusting his cheeks. He also felt the almost soaring sensation when you had said yes. 

From the one the two of you had always gone on scouting missions together, or both stayed up to watch throughout the night. Even if neither of you had a specific job in the line, more often than not it was you and him walking together. And he loved that.

And now it was in a situation like this. Like most nights, Legolas had offered to take a night-watch (elves not needing as much sleep as the others) and everyone had instinctually looked to you as well, and your hand was already up. Lazily raised, but your eyes were shining and there was a smile on your face that grew brighter when you looked at him. At least, Legolas thought it did.

He still wasn’t sure of your feelings for him. He knew of his feelings for you, of course. To him you were perfect, and would be the one forever. But how could he really say that to you? Or know that you felt the same way. Yes, you were around him most of all, and you seemed to share a special bond - but he didn’t want to be imagining all of that. He didn’t want to ruin what was already there.

And he was hesitant to get advice from any other members of the Fellowship, especially as they were not elves. Of course, they could fall in love and spend their lives together, but mortal lives were just that, lives. And if Legolas decided to love you, like he had, then he would love you for the rest of eternity, and that wasn’t something many other cultures understood.

But quite a lot of the Fellowship did seem supportive of the two of you. Even if most of it was Gimli making some sort of joke as the two of you went off together, prompting Pippin and Merry to start as well, it gave him quiet confidence that something was there between the two of you. And Aragorn knew, maybe even before Legolas had completely figured out his own feelings.

And it was Aragorn’s advice he was thinking of, as he gazed into the woods. Around them, only a few metres off, the rest of the Fellowship was sleeping. Only you and him were awake and still watchful in the moonlight. There was almost only moonlight as well.

With both of you being elves, you could rely less on fire to provide vision, and could instead gaze further into the darkened forest and still see if there was any danger. But all was calm, there wasn’t a single noise from the forest, and as both him and you sat in companionable silence, there was no noise from either of you. As he tried to listen, he realised he could still hear a few things.

There was a soft flickering from a lantern that was still on, positioned next to Merry’s bed, but only emitting the slightest bit of noise. And he could hear the soft breathing of everyone at camp, some hitched slightly, but most deep and calm. Yours was calm as well, content and peaceful.

Then he heard a slight shuffle, and he felt a weight against his back. Now Legolas could hear his heart, beating faster, as well as feel himself blush slightly more heavily. It was you, you were leaning up against his back, and looking up into the stars.

Surely this contact couldn’t be comfortable for you, he reflected, noting how you were lent up against the bit of armour he still had on. But he didn’t want to push you off either, his heart panged at the idea of losing physical contact with you. Instead, as gently as he could, he began to shift slightly and manoeuvre as to where you were still leaning on him, but much more comfortably.

Then the weight was gone, and he could feel you suddenly shift off him. Legolas turned around to look at you, and you smiled back at him, head still faintly titled back to watch the stars. You spoke, “Sorry, should’ve… asked permission, I know.”

He smiled at this, quick to reassure, “Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind it at all friend . I was simply curious as to what you were doing?”

Even though you’d been sitting in silence for the past hour, it was so comfortably easy to start a conversation, for both of you to bring out each other's smiles. And tonight was no exception, he looked at you a little closer. Was that a slight amount of blush on you? Even with the poor lighting, he could see it was. But was it because you loved him back, or was it just embarrassment?

“I was,” there was hesitation in your voice, so probably the latter he realised as his heart sank, “Observing our immediate upward surroundings,  to make sure a… bird, doesn’t attack us while we’re sleeping.”

Legolas found himself laughing at that, although just a soft one. Not wanting to ruin the tranquillity of the firelight mood, or to make it seem like he was laughing at you. Suddenly unsure of himself, Legolas looked up towards the stars as well, “It is ok, I think the stars are very beautiful too.”

Then he caught himself. His heart was beating faster, much too fast. He thought back to what Aragorn had told him, and what he knew in his heart. Glancing around for a brief moment, everything seemed perfect to him. If he was ever to let you know he loved you, now would be the time. The hesitation had only been a second, but he felt uncertain. Then he opened his mouth to speak again.

“They are very pretty, my love.”

There was a pause between the two of you, and he looked back into your eyes, almost desperate. Please, give me a sign that you love me too? Legolas searched around your face, from the blush that had spread from your ears to your cheeks, and the fact your eyes almost seemed to sparkle. But then nothing, instead you gave a small smile, an obviously forced one, and turned from him to face the forest.

His heart fell. Nothing, he loved you, and would love you for the rest of forever, but it wasn’t the same for you. There was a second where his eyes blinked more rapidly, but instead he peered out into the night, searching for something that wasn’t there. Just like he’d seen something that wasn’t there. And now because of that he was stuck on watch with someone he’d poured out his heart too, who didn’t love him in return.

That incident had been last night, and it was the morning now. He hadn’t gotten much sleep at all, being kept awake by his aching heart. Not that elves like him needed much, to be fair.

Like usual, everyone else awoke - and Aragorn insisted on eating breakfast while on the move instead of sitting down to dine. Normally you would protest, and then the hobbits would join in (you telling him afterwards you wanted to watch the end of the sunrise with him) but there was no voice of complaint from you either, just a resignation as you got up.

Although you, and some of the fellowship had now started walking forward, Legolas waited a bit longer. If he stayed behind here, would you have waited for him to catch up? Six strides, seven strides, eight strides. It didn’t seem like it, and as he strode to not be felt behind by the party, he could hear whispers between Merry and Pippin.

The rest of the day was equally forlorn, him staying completely near the back until you and Gimli had both slowed your pace a little, as if to stay behind him. His heart had started to lift, the first hint of a smile, but then you turned briefly and faced Boromir, so he’d turned immediately to face Gimli, striking up a conversation with the dwarf based on faked enthusiasm - and not wanting to look at you being happy with someone else.

Eventually, you tried to approach him a few times, and his heart made it so he couldn’t bring himself to even look at you fully. Legolas gave short answers in the few times you spoke with him, and all of them were about what was currently going on (like a brief scouting report) and a brief moment of caring again, when he’d asked you what you ate.

But in all the conversations, he’d been quiet and reserved, trying to slip away as quickly as he could to scout or talk to anyone else. He couldn’t just pretend things would go back to the way they were, not if you didn’t love him but he loved you so dearly. And he didn’t want to force you to speak with him either, and approached with that awkwardness that you had - as though you didn’t want to be there.

The only words he had uttered that were about that night had been a brief phrase to you, “I’m sorry.”

But you had looked blank, and then he ran ahead again to the scouting position of the party before he could hear what you had to say. It was fine that you didn’t love him, but he didn’t want to hear you say that - or flounder around with words to pretend everything was ok.

The next day was the same, walking alone or with Gimli, even briefly along with Merry and Pippin (to see if their incessant joy could infect him) but that didn’t work either. When he’d approached them they looked shocked, and Merry had given some not-so-subtle glances to you, and then to him with concern on his face. Legolas had just told them not to worry, and tried to engage with them tales of Mirkwood instead.

Eventually, the company stopped for the night again. Basic camp was set up again, the two of you placing your sleeping mats almost on the opposite side of the circle the fellowship always seemed to make. Three larger logs, sturdy but long fallen, encompassed where you had set up camp, and like most nights people began to split into little groups and make small talk about the day's journey.

Legolas forced himself to sit down, shoulder slightly slumped in a way unlike him, and facing partially away from most of the circle, instead looking at Aragorn. The ranger noticed him almost straight away, and silently walked away from where he was sharpening his blade to sit down beside the elf.

“What’s wrong with the two of you?” came the soft words of Aragorn, looking briefly at you before staring back at Legolas.

“In Elvish,” Legolas instinctually corrected, not wanting the rest of the fellowship to become involved, “I… took the advice that you had offered me a few nights ago.”

Aragorn raised a brow, casting his mind back and remembering the windy time. They’d been on watch together, and Legolas had approached Aragorn confessing his feelings about you. Wondering how Aragorn had managed to confess to Arwen, and what he should do.

“I presume it didn’t go as well as you thought it would?”

“No, it didn’t,” there was a more melancholy tone to Legolas’s voice, clear even through the beautiful tones of Elvish, “Everything… everything seemed perfect. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever been more in love with them.”

Aragorn’s eyes became a bit more sympathetic as he saw the elf almost struggle to finish his sentence, looking slightly lost. “And then what happened?”

“They were looking up at the stars, they looked beautiful. And, we talked about them for a brief while. Then, I called her my love, and they said nothing after that. We sat in silence for the rest of the night.” At that, a more intense sadness formed in Legolas’s eyes, and the two of them briefly looked over at where you were sitting. You had been briefly staring back at them for a second, and the two of you met eyes for a second. He could feel his heart break a bit more, and he turned away, missing the concerned look that crossed Aragorn’s face as he stared at the two of you.

“Well, my friend. I am sorry that this has happened,” there was little comfort that Aragorn could give at the moment. Legolas knew the ranger would be there for him, and he would not appreciate meaningless words of comfort to try and soothe an aching heart. Aragorn paused for a second, before asking, “Do you still care for them?”

Legolas looked up at this, voice raising for a second and then shushing again, “Care for them?” That was when it got quieter, “Of course I do. They are my stars, my forest, my heart. Even if they do not feel the same way.”

“Well then there may still be hope for the two of you, do not give up yet Legolas.”

There was a lull in conversation between the two of them, and comfort for a second before Legolas looked back at the camp. Looked to see you sitting and staring into the floor, Frodo at your side. A now familiar sadness twinged in his heart, before the silence was broken by Sam, “Is anyone available to go get firewood, I want to start cookin’ before it gets too late.”

“I will.”

As soon as Legolas said it, he heard you say it at the same time, and he looked up at you for a second with a smile before reality came down upon him. But before he could apologise, shake his head and retreat back to Strider, Sam clasped his hands together.

“Two is better than one, I suppose.”

Now seeing that neither of you could back out, Legolas sat up, giving a brief look to Aragorn - as though to ask for help. He didn’t want to have to be with you right now, especially after he’d just confessed he still loved you.

“Just be getting firewood, mind,” Gimli called out as the two of you were leaving to head into the forest, and in spite of himself Legolas could feel his ears burn with blush, just like they always did. You would have nudged him at this point, some blush scattering your cheeks, and replying scathingly, but the both of you stayed silent this time.

He filled in the gap for you instead, “Do not worry Gimli, it will just be collecting firewood.”

The phrase came out colder than he intended, and he saw you rush forward into the trees, before stopping and looking around at the floor. Your movements seemed almost erratic at times, and while he stooped to collect firewood he kept his eyes trained on you, still worried. It was ridiculous, he knew. The idea that you would need help from him, or want it.

After only a few minutes, he saw you had much more timber in your arms than usual (normally the two of you would make jokes, and he’d end up collecting the brunt of it) and watched as you straightened up, “I think we have enough - do you want to head back?”

There was a moment of silence, before you began to continue, “Wait, Legolas, I meant to-”

“Yes, I think we have plenty between us,” he cut across quietly. There was no reason for you to apologise to him, or for the two of you to discuss what had happened in the moonlight. He just needed to get back to camp, not have his heart tricked into thinking you might like him again.

But what if you did, what if he had interrupted you. “Wait, I do actually love…” His voice trailed off as he saw you several steps ahead, clearly not listening and desperate to get back to camp. Of course you weren’t speaking to confess, why did he let his heart lead him yet again?

“We’re back, is this enough?” He heard you say to the fellowship, appearing out of the treeline a little behind you silently. Dinner was quiet, and he sat off to the side with Aragorn, neither of them speaking and instead just eating silently. Eventually dinner ended, and like always the matter of who was going to watch was brought up.

Legolas watched as you volunteered, hand going up, then felt as everyone’s gaze turned to him. Watching was another one of those things the two of you would do together, but he couldn’t face being alone with you right now - especially after two failed confessions in three days. As the silence began to grow tense, Aragorn moved slightly to volunteer as well, throwing an almost chiding look at Legolas.

Sleep was difficult for him, but everything was silent and he managed to find himself drifting off, although dreamlessly. When he awoke, it was to something jabbing him in the side. For a second fear raced through him, a sword perhaps? A cunning ambush? But then the thing tapped him again, it was just a stick. And if Legolas knew him, it would be Aragorn. Silently, he moved his hand to be free and listened for the movement of the air. 

Then he struck, one hand grabbing the stick and the other straying to his bow - if only to give a brief scare. He looked around at the moonlight before remembering the watch, a slight scowl falling over his face, “I assume I’m taking over the watch?”

His voice was slightly stiff, and he hauled himself out of the bedroll, pulling on his quiver as he did so and readjusting his bow. There was a slight grin on Aragorn’s face as he walked away, one of those knowing ones that he got once in a while. Silently Legolas sat up and walked to face the fire, instinctively walking to be next to you and then swerving and sitting opposite you.

There was silence as he stared at the fire, his heart both wanting to say something to you, but his heart also worrying that it would get hurt again. And both were battling, and neither were winning when you suddenly emitted a small sound.

It was like a choking one, and worry immediately flooded his eyes as he looked up at you. Were you ill, had something happened? But he shouldn’t still be fussing over you… that, wasn’t his job anymore. Not that it ever truly was. Legolas began to look away again, not wanting to torture his heart more.

“I can’t speak Elvish.”

Shock was the first thing that hit him, like a punch in the safe. That and almost absolute confusion. You were an elf, how could you not speak the mother-tongue? But then, along with the shock and confusion, his heart began to sing as well. You may still feel the same way, you just didn’t know what he had said.

Almost timidly, and certainly quietly, he spoke up while daring to glance into your eyes, “So you could not understand me, when I was talking to you in the forest?”

You shook your head, and his heart soared. There was still a chance for him, for the two of you. Then it hurt again as you let out another almost choked sob noise, “I know five words, the most useful one is food.”

So you truly had not understood him when he had been speaking. Relief was now rushing over him, that and love again. Still just as strong and pure, but he wasn’t squashing it down because of your supposed ‘rejection’. Almost subconsciously he stood up and moved over to you. Not quite touching, but close.

“What… what did you call me on that night?”

Your eyes left his, and he almost felt his throat make the same choked noise, “I- I’m not sure how you’d respond to it now.”

“Legolas, the only reason I didn’t react is because I didn’t understand you, I promise. I was just uncertain of what you said, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Your eyes now met again, and he was struck by an urge to hug you. Or, perhaps kiss you. But he wasn’t sure, so instead his hand just reached out and grasped yours. He tried to speak and then gulped nervously, before trying again, “I called you my love.”

He whispered it, and then tried again, “In the forest. Meleth nîn means my love, and I said it because,” at that point his voice, or maybe his nerves, betrayed him, and his voice trailed off. You grasped onto his hands again, to stop them from slipping away.

“As… as in partners?” there was nervousness in your voice, but certainty in his heart. He needed to let you know, and he took a deep breath.

“Yes, meleth nîn, as in… I love you.”

Hope you enjoyed! Requests are open <3

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

[rambosgirl]

Logan x hypersomniac reader headcanons

you guys this is literally just insomniac x hypersomniac, but I realized when I was finished writing this ;-;

also, I imagined the original trilogy Logan for this, but if you want to use your imagination ig it could be a different Logan

Masterlist

First of all, Charles is super nice to you and gives you a rest period in your teaching schedule so you can use it to nap

Your students are also very nice if you happen to fall asleep in class, which doesn't happen often but has a few times.

Jean is super supportive and will help you try to find solutions when your doctors can't help you

So pretty much everyone knows (how could they not when you literally fall asleep at meals?) but you don't mind people knowing

especially when they're this supportive

So when Logan first came to the mansion, you were in the middle of a nap so you had no clue who he was when you finally met him after you woke up

Logan was clueless to your condition, I guess no one told him

As he got to know you better, he started to notice some things about you

like how you would disappear for hours at a time and then resurface like nothing happened

he also noticed you yawned a LOT but didn't piece the two together for a while

He would ask around but everyone says they haven't seen you

When he asks you about it you tell him everything - your struggle to wake up and stay awake, the naps, and even the other effects that come with it like memory problems and trouble concentrating.

Logan's just like :0 How did I not figure that out before?? it all makes sense now

He's SO SUPPORTIVE

He'll remind you about the things you have trouble remembering, and he'll make sure you're taking care of yourself between naps

he'll never admit he's gone soft for you teehee

but it's obvious to everyone else

he still gets moody sometimes, but less around you, and he'd NEVER take it out on you (he takes it out on Scott lol)

you joke about him needing a nap more than you when he's especially grumpy

sometimes you'll sleep way later than you meant to, like waking up at 10pm, and he'll stay up with you

you guys will just be talking in the kitchen until you start to feel tired again

y'all make snacks for your late-night chats

he tries to make sure you're awake from late afternoon naps at a good time (like before 7ish) so that you don't mess up your sleep schedule too bad

he gets to know your schedule, even if you don't stick to it as often as you'd like, he tries to help you stay on it

AND GUYS

if you spontaneously fall asleep somewhere you're not supposed to, Logan will CARRY YOU to your bed and tuck you in (I'm MELTING)

You feel safe around Logan, making it easy to doze off around him

he often finds himself in situations where you're resting your head on him, fast asleep

he'll stay there for a while, and if you don't wake up soon, he'll carry you to bed

Sometimes he watches you sleep

Not in a creepy way (he tells himself) but he loves seeing you so peaceful, the worry melting off you

Jean tells him it looks creepy and he should probably stop before you wake up

Sometimes you get overwhelmed with your feelings about your hypersomnia, and Logan is there to listen and quietly comfort you.

You feel like you're sleeping through your life, like you're not truly living to the fullest potential you can

You also get so frustrated about the lack of answers you have for why you need so much sleep and the constant fogginess of your mind and memory

Logan is here for it all

he might not be the best at openly showing affection and support, but there is no doubt that he cares about you and will do anything for you.

He prefers actions over words, which becomes obvious in the way he treats you and takes care of you

That's all I have for now babes, hope you liked it (again, if you want a full fic lmk)

[sirfrogsworth]

Frogman's Camera Buying Guide

A few weeks ago someone asked if I could recommend an interchangeable lens camera (ILC) to supplement their smartphone photos and hopefully get better pictures of important things like vacations and pets.

I decided to go very extra with my response and due to that... I'm still not finished with it.

I'm worried I am letting this person down because they did not ask for a giant post explaining every detail about cameras in the history of forever.

So I am going to do a camera recommendation post without as much explanation and hopefully I can finish the giant post at some point in the near future.

If you want to take better pictures you are probably going to need a camera with a decent sized sensor, a fast lens, a tripod, and a flash.

The bigger sensor gives you more dynamic range so you can capture brighter and darker things in the photo.

A fast lens has a giant hole in the front that lets in a ton of light. That hole is called the aperture and the bigger it is, the better your photos in dark environments will be. So you will want something that does f/1.8 or f/1.4 (lower f-stop number = bigger hole = more light). This can also help you get a lot of cool background blur.

A tripod will help get you longer exposures without any blur from camera shake. Especially good for landscape photos.

And a flash is for taking photos of pets and other moving subjects when you are indoors and don't have a lot of light. A flash is an absolute game changer for indoor photos.

HOWEVER, never point it directly at your subject.

Point it at a large white ceiling or wall. The flash happens so fast that it freezes motion. It is how I got all of my indoor photos of Otis.

Here he was playing and being rambunctious and he is not blurry.

I used no special settings. I just stuck on a flash and pointed it at the ceiling and suddenly sheep are sticking to things.

Oh, and one other huge benefit of using a flash... you can take much better photos of pets with dark fur. So if you have a cute little void in your home, a flash can help you capture detail in their fur.

Just lift the shadow slider in your image editor and that beautiful fur will reveal itself.

If you get an ETTL or TTL flash, it will output the correct amount of light automatically. You can literally just put your camera in automatic mode, aim the flash at the ceiling, and press the shutter button.

Before I talk about recommendations I want to make one thing very clear.

GETTING A GIANT CAMERA WILL NOT AUTOMATICALLY GIVE YOU BETTER PHOTOS.

Aside from my flash aimed at the ceiling trick, a big boy camera is not a magic solution for better photos. In some cases, you might actually get *worse* photos than your smartphone. You need to learn the basic fundamentals of photography and you also need to learn some basic photo editing skills.

Smartphones employ powerful algorithms and computational processes to make every photo you take look as good as possible.

ILCs say, "Here is your RAW data, you figure out the rest."

You don't have to become an expert, but if you watch this free 6 hour photography course, that will ensure you have the knowledge needed to improve your photos.

Okay, let's get into the nitty gritty of buying a nice new old ILC.

If you are on a tight budget and cannot afford a fancy mirrorless camera, I would highly suggest a used DSLR. You can get them for very reasonable prices. And unlike just about every other modern technological gadget, cameras and lenses are built to last for decades. So I have no qualms about recommending used photography gear.

However, I do highly recommend using either KEH or MPB, as they have a long trial period and decent customer service. If something goes awry with your used gear, KEH has a 180 day warranty and MPB has a 6 month warranty. So there is much less of a risk than eBay or Facebook Marketplace. You pay a bit of overhead, but the piece of mind is worth it.

Before I start my recommendations I want to quickly explain the difference between APS-C and Full Frame camera bodies. (For brevity's sake I am going to omit Micro Four Thirds bodies as they are not typically geared toward beginner photography.)

APS-C has a "crop" sensor. It is a bit smaller than full frame and does not perform as well in low light (more noise). However these bodies are cheaper and can still produce great photos. You can see above the sensor is still significantly larger than a smartphone. APS-C adds a 1.5x zoom to all lenses. This can be annoying in small spaces but advantageous for outdoor photography like wildlife and sports. You can use full frame lenses on a crop sensor body (within the same brand). APS-C lenses are usually cheaper but of lower quality.

Full frame has a larger sensor that will give you less noise in low light. It is also much easier to get background blur. Full frame also allows you to work in more cramped spaces. You *cannot* use APS-C lenses on a full frame body. However, the lenses meant for full frame cameras tend to be better quality in general.

If you can save up a little more and get a full frame body, I would recommend it. These bodies used to be geared more toward professional use, but since mirrorless cameras became popular, used full frame DSLRs have become much more accessible to those on a budget. Full frame cameras make it easier to get better results in challenging circumstances. And challenging conditions are really the main area where ILCs still kick a smartphone's ass.

For tight budgets I would recommend the following...

Canon or Nikon APS-C DSLR camera body

50mm f/1.8 lens (Nifty Fifty)

18-55mm APS-C lens (good for landscapes and portraits)

Yongnuo ETTL Flash

There are lenses called "superzooms" which can go from (as an example) 18-200mm or 70-300mm and other crazy focal lengths. That sounds fantastic and very versatile... but these are usually utter shite. You may be tempted to get one of these lenses hoping it can do everything you need, but there are no free lunches in lens land. Unless you are spending many thousands of dollars, the wider the focal range, the worse the lens will be.

When you stick to the 18-55mm range, you can be assured the images will be decent. And if you find yourself really needing a telephoto lens, you can save up and add it to your collection later on. The 18-55 will give you wide angle for landscapes all the way to slightly telephoto for portraits and moderately close wildlife. This lens cannot be used indoors or at night without a flash. Which is why I recommend the Nifty Fifty for that purpose. $100 for a moderately sharp low light lens is a no brainer.

Also, stick to Canon, Nikon, Sigma, or Tamron lenses. You can try exotic 3rd party lens brands when you know more what you are doing. And always make sure the lens has autofocus before buying.

It's hard to give you exact recommendations as used items are not reliably in stock. So I'm going to show you an example of the above, but I am not necessarily saying you should buy this *exact* combination. You might be able to get something similar with Nikon as well.

Canon 60D APS-C DSLR

50mm f/1.8 lens

Canon 18-55mm APS-C lens (EF-S mount)

Yongnuo TTL Flash

(I wouldn't recommend getting a used flash, as the Yongnuo is already a great price and you can't know if someone used the flash 100,000 times or 20 times.)

Altogether that is about $500. You can start with the 60D and the 50mm Nifty Fifty for $330 and add on the other two items later on.

My recommended full frame setup...

Full frame Canon or Nikon DSLR body

50mm f/1.8 lens (same as before)

24-70mm full frame zoom lens (full frame equivalent to 18-55mm)

ETTL Yongnuo flash (same as before)

And an example from KEH might be...

Canon 6D Full Frame DSLR

Canon 50mm f/1.8 Lens

Sigma 24-70mm Full Frame Zoom lens (EF mount)

Yonguo ETTL Flash

And that would be about $800 total.

Again, you can start with just the camera and 50mm lens and add the other items later. So invest $500 initially and go from there.

And just to give a Nikon example as well...

Nikon D600 Full Frame DSLR

Nikon 50mm f/1.8 Lens

Tamron 24-70mm

Yonguo ETTL Flash (Nikon version)

I highly recommend researching any camera body and lens before purchase. I can vouch for the items above, but you should definitely check out some YouTube videos before buying.

All of the stuff on KEH and MBP is marked down in price for aesthetic reasons. They do test everything to make sure it is functional. If you care if the camera or lens looks pristine, it will cost a little extra. But if you don't mind if it is beat to hell, you can save some money. Ugly or not, you will get the same photos out of the gear. As I said, photography stuff is built to last for a long time. Almost all repairs are due to user damage and not defects. And usually defects manifest when the product is brand new.

Oh, I forgot about the tripod!

Amazon's $35 tripod is surprisingly decent. It even got a good review on a very picky tripod review site. I recommend starting with this and then upgrading when you know more what you need out of a tripod.

Amazon 60 inch Tripod

I worry I'm leaving out a lot of important information, but hopefully I can expand in the other post I am working on.

That said, if anyone is thinking of buying a camera and you are not sure about the items you selected, please feel free to message me and I will help you assess your choices. Please make sure you include a budget range when asking for buying advice.

I hope that helps. I will try to finish the more in depth post soon. And it will include tips for how to get better photos from your smartphone if you cannot afford an ILC at the moment.

Further resources...

Recipe for Landscape Photos Froggie's Encyclopedia of Lens Terms

[mtchacffinz]

—and the love bug strikes!

prompt!!! "Just one kiss, please?" Me when I lie 🤭

content!!! NSFW, needy!reader, dom!Al Haitham, office fuck, slight dumbification, domestic, sweet talk, established relationship (married), soft and rough(?) sorry honey i don't have a scale for this one

note!!! kaf here once again! i seem to love writing for this man a lot. expect more of him from me soon ~ he's so lovellyyyy and hott, and lovely and hot and super lovely and h

You listen to his light breaths, the rise and fall of his chest is enough to calm you down. After four months of work that he's appointed Acting Grand Sage, he's been extra busier than usual. Although the man works efficiently, he still has scribe duties to attend to; and by the time that's done, he sees that his other job is stacked.

Fortunately, after a little convincing, he allowed you to sit on his lap until he finishes one report. Just one. Just for the sake of you and your clinginess. To be fair, four months? It has been four months since he hasn't done anything but duty work because of this artifact archiving project! For his temporary solution, you are to hold him for as long as Al Haitham allows you to.

Al Haitham has always been a man of stoicism. If it's something that's unnecessary for his work, he skips it. If it disrupts peace of mind, he puts it away. If something is hindering his progress, the scribe will undoubtedly push it out of his way.

He almost never goes home. When he does, it's either to grab a few relics and artifacts that's essential to his current progress. All your husband gives you is a quick peck on your lips and he waves goodbye once again.

Atleast.. that was supposed to happen.

It started with a small kiss, but all of the sudden Al Haitham's breathing was ragged as you once again take him into your lips— hungry, roughly, and rigid. Your tongues danced and swirled into a rhythm-less pattern seemingly incoherent. It was like an instinct on play, desperately trying to relish and prolong the warmth you've oh so waited to finally devour.

Al Haitham's hand supports your figure, a firm grip on the small of your back. He allows every crevice of his mouth explored, neck absolutely violated by hungry, yet delicate kisses enamoured by yours truly, alone.

Alas in but a few moments— he pulls back from you leaving you wanting for more. Voice barely above a whisper, he tells you that you need to breathe. Take it easy, and breathe. Eyes hazy, you're surprised by the sudden haste you've displayed when you nodded meekly.

He lay his forehead on your own when a moment of silence was shared between you two. He feels your breaths turn softer and softer before he finally speaks once again, only to get cut off.

"I want you right now, you know?" You say slowly, and he doesn't interrupt— only giving you a slight smug look as if he's won something. He dips his head back to your lips but it's much more calmer this time. Al Haitham's pecks and kisses were tender and warm— and it somehow enchants you more to speak out.

"I miss you, you know?" barely letting it out as a mumble, he stilll grasps your words. You latch your arms onto his neck for support when he targets your neck, emitting small mewls from your throat. "It was so lonely. Your bed was always empty."

"I know."

He offers hums and hushed words. His velvet voice strumming each and every one of your nerves ro relax. Al Haitham's comforting words threatened the tears in the corner of your eyes to betray you, but alas you let them. They fall from your eyes hurriedly— yet he doesn't mind at all. In fact, he kisses your tears away, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Strong arms quickly pick you up from his lap proping your figure on the table. He took the liberty of discreetly organizing the files away because he knew this would inevitably happen sooner or later. It was you, after all. Al Haitham's tongue was all over your chest with his hands trailing all kinds of intentions in your body. No skin left unloved, his firm grip on you was apparent.

"W-Wait. Your documents—"

"You don't get to think about that right now." He softly taps your forehead, cheeks flushed with soft rose hues. "All I want to know is how you've been." You don't respond. It was a question he already knows the answer, but his voice is so so gentle and soft you take his lips back to yours.

"I'm fine now."

"'Now'? So you weren't fine before?"

"Don't tease me, Al Haitham.."

Al Haitham hums. Oh well, now you have to finish what youve started, right? Al Haitham traces circles on your thighs, seemingly thinking about something. Before you could ask what's on his mind, he tugs on your undergarments, those royally gem imbedded eyes of his trail back towards yours with a glint of mischief.

"Take them off."

For what it was worth, it certainly looks like he wasn't the only one holding back. The grey haired man firmly held you in your place making the most out of what's in between your legs. He traces circles, he sucks on your sensitive numb like his life depended on it. Al Haitham would trace the curve of your back when you arch for him when he hits that sweet spot that never fails to elicit a strong electrifying reaction out of you.

The Scribe diligently works his way through your folds, glistening with both his spit and your juices. Once you start holding onti him tight, he slows down and resumes again. God, he loves seeing your face contort from anticipation of your orgasm to a puzzled scrunch.

"Cumming.. cum- cummin—g..!! Ahn, aahgg! please—"

"Ah, ah. Eyes here." He leaves your pussy hanging, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your cute face is so flushed from the stimulation it's taking every inch of his being to pull down his pants and fuck your face right then and there. You hands attempt to entangle in his hair, but he pushes you away. "Don't hug me. I want to see your face."

You could only whimper back. He was so mean when you're clingy. Although he never means it in any way repulsive, his tongue is adept in such filthy language that gets your cunt throbbing. Al Haitham dips his face into your lips, his tongue exploring every crevice of it like it's his fucking birthright. Those slender fingers if his creep up on your heat, inserting his middle finger while his thumb rest on your clit.

Al Haitham's breath hitches. "Fuck, you're so wet.." before you could respond, he shuts you up by kissing you deep again. "I love you. I love you.." your husband repeats to you like a matra as his fingers rut themselves into your sopping pussy. You don't know whether or not he's telling that to you, or your cunt but you're not complaining either way. You were too sensitive to think straight, but you're not too lost to not reciprocate his words. Although your words are a little broken, you managed to let out a few strings of affirmations yourself. "—Haithaam... i love you, my Haitham...♡".

You could feel Al Haitham's breath hitch in your neck.

"My Haitham. My Haitha— fuck. I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cum I'mgonnacumm...!!" His fingers' pace starts to pick up that your legs were barely even getting a hold of themselves— trembling just by how playful he is playing with your cunt. Al Haitham breaks eye contact, nuzzling into your neck. His breaths ragged and hair disheveled from all the hair pulling you've been doing. He relishes in your scent and speaks.

"I'm listening.." mumbling, hinting for you to go on. He's always loved it when you're fucked dumb. When you ramble what you usually don't say in public. When you tell him your deepest desires just for his ears only, looking at the way your face scrunches up under him.

"I want your cock deep in my pussy haithaamm...♡ I want it kissing the deepest part, Haitham. Please? Pretty please? Please pleasepleasepleas—" You whimper like a pathetic slut. Your nails dig deep into his arm when his tongue starts lapping up in your neck. "I deserve it, I do. You know I do, right? I d—unnggff..!!" Whatever it was to come out of your mouth died in your throat as your whole body spiked up in his arms, your climax washing over you.

Your husband pumps a few more thrusts helping you ride out your orgasm, planting tender kisses on your collarbones.

You could feel hot breath on your neck, hitting your flushed cheeks. Al Haitham's right hand rest on your waist, subtly guiding the plush of your ass to his erection. His free hand clasps yours, thumb brushing your knuckles. Chaste pecks all around the nape of your neck, from this view.. it really does tempt him to bite and mark you down right now.

"Ah.. ah. I'm a little sensitive.."

"It's okay for you to back down." He softly mumbles. "Do you need to go?" He says, concern laced in his tone. You were a little more conscious of his hands on your waist, as it grips you tighter. You shake your head no.

There's no way you would back down. Not when you could feel his painfully erect cock behind your back. You expected him to ask another question in his gentle voice, but was met with a surprise of change in demeanor instead.

"Then bend over."

"I HAVE NO TIME FOR PLEASANTRIES SHOW ME YOUR WIENERRRRR" i know y'all r only here for the smut.. horny fuckers. Feed my brainrot so i could write more for you horny fuckers. My requests are open (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)♡