#but also it would take a lot of time and money so will just be a thought to ponder for now

[cheyisagirlkisser]

⃠ CYBER SEX. (SEVIKA + VI + READER ) ⃠

➤┆pairing: sevika + vi + fem reader

↻┆word count: 3k

⚠︎┆warnings: dom! sevika + switch vi + sub! reader, sevika guides you and vi through phone sex, degrading names (whore, slut) and nicknames (angel, good girl, Sevika is called 'Vika once), teasing, fingering + clit stim + strap-on sex (r! receiving), slight pain kink, mentions of vi receiving from sevika, threats of punishment from sevika, mentions of sexism from sevika's male coworkers (she's in construction).

Description: Sevika is the main breadwinner in you, her, and Vi's. She makes a lot of money, but is also often busier than the both of you. The week-long business trips are something she doesn't look forward to-being away from her girls for days to weeks at a time. You and Vi decide to make matters worse for her when you get feel neglected on a call that was supposed to relax your exhausted girlfriend.

You'd think after countless business trips away from home that Sevika would be used to the separation, but no. She misses you and Vi more than anything. She finds a stupid grin forming on her face when she imagines the both of you on the couch, probably watching something she would make fun of and eating junk food. She keeps telling herself she only has two days left to go. Then, it's the four hour road trip until she can finally give her girlfriends some attention.

Sevika's longing is loving. It's soft and sweet, though anyone else would find that to be rare from her. You and Vi just bring out that ooey-gooey part of her heart out. With that lead to sweeter-than-chocolate kisses and late nights that she knows she shouldn't be awake for, having to wake up at 5 in the morning, but ends up between the two of you anyway.

Her current mood is anything but horny. She is tired after a long day of construction work and being around dickhead coworkers, and she could use a shower to wash off the sweat from her body. Sex isn't exactly the priority in her mind.

Still, she imagines that it'll be like to return home. You and Vi must be so needy. You always are after a week without Sevika. The routine is all the same—walk through the door, take a quick shower, and fuck the brains out of you two.

You're a bottom through and through. You couldn't top even if someone was pointing a gun to your head. Vi, on the contrary, has no reason to. She could if she was in the particular mood for it, but why would she? Sevika takes care of both of you best. She knows that you love being held down and fucked, how you like Vi's thumb on your clit adding onto the pleasure. Sevika knows that Vi likes it more complicated. Vi likes to pretend like she isn't as flustered as she truly is when Sevika has her legs open and her pussy on display, but the girl can get even wetter than you can at times. Everything is in routine, and that is just how Sevika likes it.

Sitting in her hotel room, Sevika waits impatiently for the call. Earlier, Vi sent a dry text requesting a facetime. That didn't raise any suspicions in her head. Almost every time Sevika leaves for a trip, either you or Vi send something asking when she is available. It makes her heart jump to think of her girls being without her. She wonders how Vi fares without someone to tell her not to punch a hole in the wall, and instead use the punching bag Sevika spent a ridiculous amount of money on. She wonders how you fare without the constant reassurance. You're on the overthinking side, and Sevika has probably said enough to put into a book. She doesn't mind it one bit, though.

This time, Sevika feels extra excited to talk. She just wants to kick her boots off, see you and Vi's faces, and forget about having two more days of hard labor.

She wants a distraction.

You and Vi have been dying without Sevika.

Usually, the days go by fast. You're both able to wait for Sevika's touch. You don't have to think too much about the way her fingers would feel in you, and Vi doesn't have to fuck herself on the dildo attached to Sevika's strap to manage. Today, however, both of you seemed to break.

It started with Vi.

(EARLIER..)

"She wouldn't know if we did it. How would she?" Vi inquires, leaning in. Her hand that has been teasingly rubbing your thigh for the past 30 minutes is creeping upward. Her voice is quiet, as if Sevika is able to hear her from countless miles away.

"C'mon, Vi.." You shoo her away, moving her hand back down to safe territory. "We can wait two days. Plus, I think it's only you that's all horny. I've been doing fine."

Vi snorts at that. "Are you fucking kidding me? Babe, you've been all over me all day."

"Okay!? What does that have to do with being pent-up?" You scoff at her, punishing her by breaking eye contact. Your gaze falls back onto the tv in front of you.

Vi doesn't scooch away to her personal space. Instead, she leans in. Her breath tickles your ear, making you swallow back your guilt because fuck, just her proximity is making you wet.

"What do you mean, 'what does that have to do with being pent-up'? You're basically begging to be fucked. All the hugs and kisses..the way you've guided my hands to your waist each morning when we wake up.." Vi tests you by inching her hand back up, just enough to make your breath hitch.

You turn to face her, and that is when Vi knows she has you. You're like a fish she can just reel in. Your bait runs cheap, too. "But, Vi..I don't wanna keep anything from Sevika. We would be fucked if she found out." And no, not in a good way..

The smile that spreads across Vi's face scares you. She has something going on in her head—it's that same face she makes before she goes Christmas shopping, the same glint in her eyes that sparkles on April Fool's day.

She cups your face to hold eye contact, and then she leans in until your lips are nearly touching. Your most pathetic but natural instinct is to squeeze your thighs together.

"Then let's make sure she knows what we're going to do tonight."

When Sevika answers the call, she is greeted with the familiar sight of you and Vi on your shared bed.

She can immediately tell that Vi is using her laptop to call because the quality is slightly better, and she can see both of your bodies instead of just faces. Vi usually never uses the laptop for calls unless it's for a specific reason, but she doesn't question it tonight. She just wants to see her girls.

You're seated comfortably in Vi's lap, where it isn't exactly rare for you to sit. Still, something feels different about the view. You don't have the same excited expression. You look nervous, as if you have something to hide from Sevika. Perhaps if Sevika wasn't so exhausted from the job today, she'd notice the scheming written all over Vi's face.

"Hi, baby. Hi, Vi." She greets you both, her voice thick with a fatigued rasp.

"Hi, 'Vika!" You smile at her, making her heart melt slightly. All feels right when she can talk to the both of you.

"Any sexist comments today?" Vi asks her.

Sevika scoffs. "Wouldn't be a normal day without one."

Conversation is normal and comforting for Sevika. It always is.

You tend to remind Sevika how much you miss her when you talk. You ask her if she misses you, if she's tried the cookies you baked for her trip, if she has been thinking about you. Vi asks the work related questions. The sexism question is always a go-to.

"Of course. What was it this time, something about how your coworker's wife just stays in the kitchen and you should, too?"

Sevika shakes her head. "Nah, not today. That was last month's. It was this guy, really short and ginger. Overheard him talking shit about women with muscles on them. I guess he didn't want me to hear, 'cause he looked all pale and skittish. Super fuckin' quiet. I could hear the dumbass, though."

Sevika goes on about her day to Vi, and Vi visibly nods along. She doesn't seem to pay too much attention to it at first, but as she complains about her coworker Ricky not knowing how to read a blueprint, she sees Vi's hand almost fully between your legs. In those pajama shorts you're wearing, it leaves nothing to the imagination. She can see the way Vi's hand almost slips inside them from the bottom, rubbing teasing circles on the inside of your thigh.

"You're pretty handsy, don't you think?" Sevika snorts, not thinking much of it.

Vi's answer catches her surprised, "well, this thing has been begging for it all week."

Sevika's eyes narrow and her face heats up, but you seem caught off-guard by Vi's words as well. You don't comment on them, though. You don't make a move to pull away from her embrace. In fact, Sevika can now point out the way you almost instinctively move to shut your legs around vi's hand. Vi will tap your leg and you quickly open back up to Sevika's view.

Sevika sighs, brushing it off. "Anyways, just wanted to say I missed you both. It's been a long fuckin' week. I was planning on going to bed soon, but-"

You let out a short, but noticeable moan when Vi's fingers circle your clit through your shorts.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on with you two?" Sevika demands, annoyance clear in her voice. But behind it, you can hear some ounce of arousal.

"I told you. This slut's been all over me, Sev." Vi simply states, not giving away any future plans. She doesn't stop with her ministrations, and Sevika has to helplessly watch as you needily writhe under Vi's touch. Three hands firmly rub your clothed pussy, and all you can do is whine and whisper in Vi's ear for more, too scared to speak up loud enough for Sevika to hear and have a reason to bend you over her knee when she gets home. Sevika notices, though.

"Are you seriously about to fuck her on camera? I'm not messing around, Vi. Cut the shit, or I'll make you regret it the moment I step through the door." Sevika growls.

"What's wrong with me taking care of her? She needs me, Sevika. Look at her. I gotta give her what she wants before she's your problem on Friday." Vi abruptly peels your pajama pants off of your body. Even in the slightly grainy video, Sevika can see the wet patch on your panties. You already know you'll still be Sevika's problem when she gets back home, but you don't care. You want to get fucked now, and Vi's touch leaves you a bit forgetful when it comes to the potential consequences of this.

Now, Sevika is pissed. She is both pissed off that she has to deal with you and Vi's bullshit, but she is also turned on. That makes matters worse. She wants to say fuck it and just let herself enjoy the show, but if she does, she'll have bigger problems to worry about.

Since you, Vi, and Sevika have established the sexual dynamic of your relationship, Sevika has had a reasonable amount of control over you and Vi. She has dished out her fair share of consequences when either of you acted up, and eventually, there was a clear dynamic. You've always been Sevika's angel: listening to everything she says, laying down and taking it like a good girl, not complaining when you don't get fucked or when Sevika is in the mood to tease.

Vi has always been on the brattier side. She likes to complain. She enjoys testing how much is too much, but even this situation is shocking to Sevika. She'll have to spend hours putting the two of you back into place when she comes home instead of fucking you and falling asleep with you in her arms and Vi on her side. But maybe that is exactly what the both of you need.

"Go right ahead and fuck her, Vi." Sevika says, finally causing a stop in Vi's movements. You whine in protest, but neither Sevika or Vi pay any mind to it.

"Seriously? You're okay with it?"

Sevika shrugs, adjusting on the bed. "Just know that there will be consequences. I'm too tired to threaten you now, Vi."

That should scare Vi. She knows that Sevika is tired, and that is where the sudden leniency comes from. If anything, Vi should take that as a sign to just call it a night.

Instead, she chooses wrong.

"That feel good, baby?" Vi coos, two fingers pumping in your wetness. There's a strap-on adjusted around her hips that wasn't there earlier, and Sevika is mostly silent as she takes in the view. You let out a whorish sound, and Vi laughs down at you. "Yeah, I know. It's exactly what your needy little cunt needs."

"No more teasing, please." You try to clutch Vis' wrist and pull her hand away from your dripping cunt, but her playfully smacks your hand away. "Just fuck me!" You whine.

"Jesus christ," comes an exasperated sigh from Sevika. Watching the scene in front of her, she pretends like it doesn't make her just as wet as your leaking pussy. She has to keep some level of control.

"Are you hearing this, Sevika?" Vi refers to the embarrassingly loud squelching noise coming from between your legs. Vi's fingers don't let up, though. She likes listening to the wetness and feeling your clit twitch underneath her thumb.

"I think the neighbors can hear it."

You moan at the sound of Sevika's voice. It sends a lightning bolt to Sevika's poor cunt, but she won't give you the benefit of the doubt of masturbating to the scene in front of her. No, she'll wait until after the call to get herself off in the hotel shower..

"You heard her, Vi. Fuck her." Sevika orders. Vi rolls her eyes, but relents in her teasing torture.

Vi's fingers slide out of you, and she pulls your now naked body down onto the bed to lay on your back. The mushroom head of Vi's (Sevika's) strap teases your glistening folds and you try your best to move your hips up enough to slip it inside of you, but one of Vi's hands pins you down on the bed.

"Beg Sevika." Vi demands, grinning above you.

Your face turns towards the laptop on the edge of the bed, and you can't help but moan when you feel the silicone tap your swollen clit.

"Please, Sevika. Please tell Vi to put it in me." You beg.

"Will you be a good girl for her?" Sevika asks you, and it takes everything in her not to rush out of the hotel and into her car to fuck you herself.

"Yes! Fuck, I promise, Sevika. I'll be a good girl for you, too."

I'll be a good girl for you, too.

The sentence echoes in her head. You don't see this as only a you and Vi thing. The thought of you wanting to please Sevika too has her hot and weak.

"Fuck my good girl, Vi."

The toy slides in you with ease, no lube necessary. Vi groans above you as she pushes her hips forward, slowly sinking further into your pussy. She feels like a starved woman after not fucking a girl for so long. Sevika takes great care of her needs, but she can't deny that this situation has been a fantasy for her for a long time.

"Fuck, you take this cock so well. Your pussy needed me. Needed to be fucked like a whore." Vi grits through her teeth, beginning to fuck you at a steady pace. Her hips snap forward and pull back, only to slam back into your greedy hole.

You only answer her in a series of broken moans. Sevika watches the way your tits jiggle with each thrust, and she imagines her own hands groping them or her tongue swirling over your nipples while Vi fucks you.

"Give her tits a small smack. She likes that."

Before you can process the instruction, Vi's hand lands a slap on one of your tits. You gasp, peeking down at the now reddened skin. She doesn't do it again until Sevika encourages. "There you go. Do it again, the slut likes it when you give her some pain."

Vi alternates between your tits, shooting delicious bolts of paint throughout your breasts as she fucks you. Her thrusts grow more erratic and deep. Her hips meet the back of your thighs each time they move forward, and you can feel the curve of the toy brush against your g-spot while the tip kisses your cervix. This is what you were neglected of.

"She looks like she's about to cum, Vi. Give it to her nice and deep. She likes it that way, that's how I always get her to cum hard." Sevika says, and Vi fixes up her pace, nearly slamming into you each thrust until your bodies become flush when they meet.

"Vi!! Oh my fucking god-" you moan, your orgasm washing over you. Vi fucks you through it, and Sevika stays quiet as she admires the show. You writhe underneath Vi, pawing at her back and mindlessly begging for more cunt-numbing treatment. She gives it to you until the overstimulation kicks in and you beg otherwise.

Vi, now a breathless, crazy-haired mess, collapses onto you. She buries her face into your warm neck and hugs you tight, particularly clingy after sex. You feel calmed down (and satiated) now that you just feel the sweet Vi that you know and love. Her chest presses against you, but the intimacy that comes from it is more soft and gentle than anything sexual.

"You okay?" Sevika asks the both of you. Vi gives a weak thumbs-up, and you nod. When Sevika is assured that both of you are okay, she lets out a slightly scary laugh. At least, you think it's a laugh.

"Both of you are so fucked when I come home."

taglist: @waitaminuteashh, @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz

[dekaydk]

This is how I defeated one of my enemies at $BIGCORP.

The previous year I'd started this little passion project within my team. I'd scraped together funds in order to get a proof of concept working. This year I'd managed to get some dedicated funding to get it into formal development, but it was still small and would take a lot more money to scale up from a beta test to full deployment. It was also pushing the boundaries of what our department head thought was our remit. It was far from a sure thing.

This bozo in another team thought that he could do something similar but by persuading one of our existing suppliers to build something on top of their (unrelated) system. This would also mean expansion of his declining empire. The vendor (another $BIGCORP) was famous for being expensive and slow to bring products to market (and for the first couple of major versions to be terrible). But, a vendor solution was automatically in a position of strength. Our 1000-person department's head was famous for saying he liked having single vendors because it gave him "one head to chop off."

I was able to volunteer to take the meeting notes. Just some minor subtle tweaks in the wording of the meeting summary bullets (which is all that most people who weren't in the meeting ever read) was enough to create doubt in the minds of the folks with the budget approval powers.

When decision time came, my dude had zero advocates for his plan.

Even happier ending: when we started rolling out my project, it got so much positive word of mouth that we had people from all over $BIGCORP asking when they could get it in their part of the business. My team were suddenly the Hot Thing for our scrappy little project.

Someone at an old job asked why I wanted to write up the meeting minutes for our team and I said 'i wanna control the narrative' and they were like 'what' and I pointed out that no one was gonna remember what we said in six months and so my interpretation of the meeting would dictate the assumed reality of what happened

"none of you ever send corrections when I offer the draft so y'all have consented to my version"

"we don't read that shit"

"you must trust me implicitly to create our shared reality that's so sweet"

That's how several coworkers decided I was a supervillain and how I learned several coworkers didn't understand record keeping as like a CONCEPT

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭“Smile for the Camera!” - Suguru Geto

Synopsis: one night really does change all - where you meet a hefty porn director Suguru and in the process of misunderstandings, you end up in his office, in the cutest maid suit.

— word count: 4.5k (i am sorry i just dk how to stop and how to start)

— a/n: this had been in my wip for so long lmao - it feels a little rushed to me but i'm also a bit rusty since it's been a while so yes lol @indiewritesxoxo you'd asked for a tag so😭hope you do like

— warnings: MDNI!!Fem Reader!! slightly manipulative! suguru, i tried to make him as gentle as i could; dumbification(?); camera; soft!dom geto; very botched representation of the porn industry; i have nothing against porn actors; masturbation; dressing up; Suguru is bisexual here, so is Satoru; reader has fem clothing; leashes and stuff; humiliation; praise kink: oral (fem rec)

The two men sat pretty and sprawled, Suguru Geto, head director of the freefuckforall website, along with Satoru Gojo, the website's longest running and most loyal actor.

“The industry is getting boring,” Satoru rolled his head, eyes closed, words directed towards his best friend who sat across from him on the couch.

Suguru only smirked, eyes stuck and watching every moving slide with lucrative detail - “I’ve been telling you, start filming sex with men, you already have it - just film it, more money, more opportunity,”

Satoru only giggled to himself - the boyish nature somehow suiting his towering self, "you know i have a different sort of fanbase - full of perverts who like seeing me fill up a cunt,"

He popped in his mouth the last of his grapes, eyes hazy as he looked at Suguru, “besides, what for? To fulfill your wretched fantasies? You already act as half a cuck anyways,” 

Suguru snorted along, shutting his laptop then and getting up to stretch, “a. develop a new fanbase then, those who'd like watching you get your ass stuffed, b. someone has to edit and direct, no? Lest you want people to see all the clips where you lie all fucked out - which would fall in common with your new style if you try it,”

The story was so fresh in both their heads - that one time Satoru had been reduced from his cocky self to a pleading and begging mess as the girl rode him - it took a lot of convincing (read: sex and treats) from Satoru before Suguru agreed to keep his ego intact.

Satoru just pouted, reaching over to grab Suguru’s share of snacks - having finished his own, “that was one time - and that girl was such an amateur, just started going at it suddenly,” 

“And the might Satoru, the amazing porn star couldn’t take it,” Suguru teased, his voice a low drawl, “but eh, it’s true, i don’t have fun filming the same shit over and over myself - it’s all repetitive,”

“Any new projects then?” Satoru asked, popping a grape in his mouth, Suguru grinned and shook his head - “not for you, but...I’ve got this new chick, she’s cute,” 

Satory raised a brow now, “cute like…date cute or cute like new fuck and more bucks?”

“Both,” Suguru grinned, “met her last night, at a party - seemed a little slow at first, she was awfully innocent,” he laughed, and Satoru did too.

“So the corruption kind huh,” 

They laughed again.

“I called her for a meeting today, said she had a dream for modelling, wanted a breakthrough in the industry - well, not this industry but..yeah,”

Satoru smirked, “you lied? How’d ya’ get her to agree?”

But Satoru knew all too well how Suguru got girls to agree, especially your kind - a few smiles, a few drinks, a little back story about himself and a little attention sprinkled, as gentle as he could be, Satoru really couldn’t remember any girl who had denied him a second date.

“Didn’t lie or nothin’...just told her i’m a director, we shoot a bit…unorthodox but it is what it is and makes good money, she couldn’t see an issue there,” he laughed.

Satoru did too - it wasn’t a lie, nor the truth.

“When’s she coming?”

Suguru checked his watch, smirked, “15 minutes, better get going then,” he grabbed his phone and laptop, ready to reach his office.

“And when would she really come?” Satoru egged on, with a grin. “Well they usually get wet by the time the camera begins anyway so…” Suguru grinned as he stepped out of the lounge and towards his office, where you were already seated.

-

The buzz felt alive, it made him feel alive.

Another wink to some girl he’d been gazing at - another sleazy line whispered in the ear of a boy who’d been grinding against him all night, none would accompany him to his mansion, he revelled in that itself.

Suguru focused on a waving hand - Shoko’s, he smiled softly at her, striding over to her, “yes ma’am?” he grinned, watching her down her drink.

“Wanna meet someone?” she said simply - a little flicker of a smile on her face. “Like a date?” he asked, before following her regardless, he knew better than to question.

And that’s where he saw you, a sight, he deemed you instantly.

A mini skirt you’d on, and a little top - just a tease - clearly out of your zone as you sipped on your-whatever-drink, eyes instead, drinking into the crowd, obviously searching for Shoko.

“Her?” Suguru asked, leaning down to Shoko’s ear, “sure?” 

A hint of worry seeped into his voice - girls like you often proved to be tough to work with, a little silly, always nervous around his work space and huge cry-babies.

Shoko grinned in response - she’d been tasked weeks ago to find Suguru a new girl for his pieces, a new face, some new energy to spice things up.

What he hadn’t expected was that she’d find someone so…inexperienced with his workspace, clearly.

Well, of course Suguru could tell who was and wasn’t - the director in him was keen, very keen — he saw money shots before one could even consider one.

And just like that, introduced to Suguru Geto you were, a nervous smile, yours and a smirk, his.

-

One drink, three and then a total of five, the bartender merely glanced up as he passed suguru’s bill to him, you sat beside him, all giggly now.

“How much do i…?” you slurred - a grin on your face, Suguru chuckled, “don’t worry darlin’ - got ya’ covered,”

You smiled wide at that, “you’re so nice - at first i was scared of you,” you confessed innocently, promptly, making his grin almost wolfish now.

“Tell me,” he nudged, hand leading you through the crowd so gently, to a secluded spot in the club, to the couch, “what did you think, hm?” 

His voice was smooth, his touch smoother - comforting and yet, you’d felt on the edge the entire night.

And yet, Suguru had nothing but sweet all night, not a single touch that went wrong, not a single gaze that was lifted wrong - just a long ear offered as you spoke and spoke, about work and life, obviously you'd needed this little escape.

Shoko has been gone ever since she introduced you to this gentleman.

“I thought…I thought…” you slowly had your eyes meet his, a flicker of confusion in them now, “i’m still thinking, what do you…do?” you asked - rightfully so - even if you did jump the conversation all too sudden for his taste.

Something he'd been avoiding all night, respite the true intentions of this meeting.

However, You’d bared your days and nights already - a huge mouth that you had, all under the drink of course, otherwise, the sober you was biting your lip beside him so hard that he was afraid you���d bleed.

And all you’d learned about him was that he was named Suguru Geto, and his friend was Shoko, all details shared by Shoko.

Suguru smiled, considering how much to share, “I’m a director,” he mused, watching your eyes widen, “yeah? I always wanted to become a model,” your tone was almost excited,  “what kinda’ director?” you asked next, he shrugged casually.

“Here and there, ya’know?”

You shook your head in a no, he smiled softly and slowly helped you out of the club, it was getting late anyways.

-

You both stood outside, his car was right there in the parking.

“Rather have me drive you home doll? Or do I get you an uber? Whatever makes you feel better but…” his words trailed off as your fingers tugged at him partially from the cold and partially from the many people lined outside the club, “...i think it’s better i drop you, yeah?”

And so, that’s what he did - civic duty? Maybe; Did he find you adorable and wanted to hear you talk more? Definitely.

As you climbed in his car, he hummed - mind unsure but he didn't want to let the shtick drop just yet, “you asked what kinda’ director, yeah?”

You nodded in your seat, as he fixed your seat belt, hands brushing against your plush skin, you licked your lips at the contact, he did too.

“Well, it is a bit…unorthodox,” he said, lips pursed, debating if it was okay - if he wanted to drag you in, “how desperate are you, to be in the industry doll?”

He asked softly, as the car revved, somehow you felt your cheeks heating up, “uhm…it’s like…a dream, i - well, not very ambitious but…if a chance,” you stammered out, he couldn’t help but chuckle, deepening the warmth you felt.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said as he nodded to the directions you gave him for your house, “why don’t you drop by at my office tomorrow hm? You can come, see the work and all, and if you are interested, why not? Shoko will have you filled in with the details, yeah?”

You could only nod, after all, this gentleman wouldn’t be an issue, right?

-

A deep breath inhaled, a lot of regret exhaled.

You flinched every time you heard footsteps approaching, you recoiled every time a moan sounded out from one of the adjacent rooms.

You were officially in a porn-making-building-or-whatever-those-are, wearing the shortest, sluttiest outfit you ever had on - the little maid suit that Shoko had handed you right as you left the house.

“Don’t peek, it’s a surprise,” she’d reminded, and you just complied - like an idiot.

Because now, seated in this dingy office that you were, posters of porn-actresses and actors, you were sure you’d seen some of them a couple of times yourself - until, your eyes panned to the logo of the website in the corner of one of them.

Officially in the office of the biggest porn website - all because a stranger asked you to.

The previous night was fresh in your eyes - well, not really, but the regret was.

What were you even thinking? Letting a random man drive you? Coming to meet him? Talking to him about your work and life?

Perhaps, nothing.

What were you thinking when the said man actually walked into his office? With his busy footsteps and a gaze that meant business now, last night you’d thought everything else - with his charming face and laptop which would essentially also hold your file in a while?

Nothing, you really couldn’t fathom a single thought to be exact.

“Ms….l/n, is it?” he read from his sheet - pretense - yours was the only appointment he’d scheduled for that day, cancelling all others. He didn’t bother eyeing you properly, but he knew well, about how enticing you did look.

He smiled, the same smile, more twisted now, “why hello, nice seeing your pretty self again,” he said with a grin, you could only nod.

You let a small silence etch between the two of you, unacceptable, Suguru opened his laptop promptly.

“How was the ride over? All comfortable? My…” he said in almost disdain, “you haven’t even been offered water? How long have you been-”

“-why didn’t you tell me it is all this?”

The disgust was so evident in your voice, he almost felt bad.

Almost.

He hummed, “I did mention it is unorthodox…”

“How dare you assume i’m into all this - what the fuck?” you muttered, ashamed by just entertaining the thought of you being a pornstar.

“Assume what? That you would want to work in the porn industry?” he smirked, all business now, “you really can’t tell with people and then,” he rolled the cuffs of his shirt’s sleeves now, “the innocent ones like you are often the biggest whores,”

He seemed amused, you seemed tense.

You huffed, “fucking whatever - i don’t…i’m not the kind of girl… and - and this dress? Goodness it is so…” a scowl on your face finished the rest.

Suguru couldn’t blame you.

Geto shrugged, a hand raised, gesturing to the door, “very well then, you can always walk out, i understand, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea…” 

All bluff, the confidence, the flair, all bluff - he wanted you, ever since last night.

You got up, right on cue, all bluff as well, you wanted to play the gamble.

“It’s a shame…” Suguru mumbled, “shame indeed,” you did too.

His eyes narrowed as you turned, eyes dipping then to take an appreciative glance at your ass, “tell you what?” He took a deep breath.

It felt desperate, it was.

“Let me take your profiles, yeah? You’ll get it for free - by a professional of course, just compensation for all the trouble,” he shot you a smile, you gulped.

“I…i’m not sure…it was - last night, just a lot of babbling, i don’t think i’m cut for…you know? And then this outfit also…”

You weren’t sure how a smile appeared on your lips so easily when you’d been pissed the moment you realised what he’d called you for, but it did.

He shrugged again, “just some pictures doll - and who doesn’t like dressing up, yeah? I’ve got plenty more for you to choose from,” he licked his lips, eyes boring into you, you could only nod.

-

“Tilt your pretty face a little to the right, please,” you gulped, still in that maid outfit - which was now being used to its full potential, the top was half open, you were on a steel chair that felt so cold against your flushed skin, and sitting right under the spotlight - while the director sat behind his camera, not rolling, nothing, just making assessments now.

Your profiles had been done half an hour ago, the photos had been sent too, it was a little job for Suguru, you were so compliant after all, following every instruction to the dot.

Which is why it had been harder for him to resist this.

After the pictures you were served drinks again, all hefty smiles and silly conversations - about porn of course. He told you everything, how he’d shot this shot, how long the process goes, how sweet you look, and how cute you are.

“Why don’t you just show me off once again, yeah? Just…so I can see, take inspiration?”

And ever the generous that you were, ever the charming as he was, somehow, you once again found yourself at a loss for no.

Which was how you’d ended up finally, in this position.

“Press your breasts together please…i want to…ah yes,” he murmured as you did what he asked for, albeit with a gulp, it felt so weird.

In front of a camera, his gaze on your every move, and he sounded so professional, dressed well too. And then there was you, just a built in thong with that dress, the top had a sheer torso, your side boob seemed so tantalising to him.

Your nipples had hardened just as well, it was just so cute, matched with your nervousness.

-

Your top lay now open - still on, after all Suguru wouldn’t ask you to do anything out of your comfort zone, right? On the monitor suguru only watched you fidget with your fingers on your thighs, smoothening the hem of the short dress as if it would help - provide some modesty.

Top open, thighs spread - a sheen of sweat from the small humid room and face hotter than ever - hair messy and eyes now dazed, Suguru had halted with his instructions for the moment, and you -? 

You continued staring at his fingers, thoughts ran rogue - you wondered if he’d ever been on camera himself, if he’d used those skilled hands for something other than recording, if he was anything close to as long and thick as his fingers - you looked away.

shameless.

The room went quieter then, just a slight buzz, Suguru stared at his screen with eyes furrowed, “hm..i don’t know, it’s not working out very well,” he said - tone regretful, your face jocked to the side. “What? …why?” 

Suguru wanted to coo at your simplicity - so bothered, he then got up, “you were correct, it’s not for girls like you,”

Such an insult it seemed, an unknowing pout fell on your lips, you got up too, your shorter frame moving slowly towards Suguru, the skirt was so short and given the humidity, it clung to your curves perfectly now - “can i…” you licked your lips, see? 

You wanted to ask that simply but refrained, too shy of his disappointment and too prude to watch yourself.

And thus the secret of the fact that Suguru was recording nothing of you displaying yourself so shamelessly remained all but a secret.

“I’ll…oh, i’ll do whatever you ask,” you ended up muttering - exactly how he wanted to have you.

“You can’t…” he just muttered, not even trying anymore, just a small smirk as he stared at you - all aware of that raging boner in his pants, hidden only because of the dark, all aware that just a glance down would show your pretty tits, all so aware.

“I can,” you said determined this time, “it’s only for your inspiration…right? And if they do come out good…it might help somewhere,” you licked your lips, now he touched you, your cheek - his hands felt warm, sweaty.

Oh but it would help somewhere indeed.

“You sure doll? Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

It felt patronizing, the smile - the eyes, he knew you  wouldn’t say no, he knew exactly how he’d sprawl you.

“So well…” he sighed deeply and then looked you up and down, “take the blouse off actually, please, go in back to the seat,” he spoke smoothly.

And you did just that.

You sat there - breasts, soft peaks - your gasps softer still, all exposed to his skillful eyes, “atta girl,” he murmured, smiling now - finally.

“Play with yourself - don’t be shy okay? Forget i’m here…”

You licked your lips…play…?

If you’d have told Shoko yesterday that you would be found half naked in the office of a man you’d found about 12 hours ago, she’d laugh in your face.

And so you began, hands cupping your tits, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, they felt so full now - your face scrunched in focus as you tried to make it appear as sexy as possible.

“Perfect, jus’ like that…” suguru encouraged, a gulp of his own drawn - the camera finally began shooting, he couldn’t help himself after all.

your hands  - all over the swell of your breasts, slender fingers kneading and squeezing the flesh, you massaged them, slowly drawing circles around your nipples. 

“Pinch them,” he ushered from front of you, moving the camera closer now, moving towards you - he could tell with your hesitation, you were still nervous.

Your eyes remained stuck on him, so wide as he moved closer to capture your hardened nipples - “so cute,” he mumbled as you flicked them, “you play with your tits often doll?”

“N–no i…well,” you looked away shyly - only so long, Suguru had his fingers grip your jaw quickly, forcing you to look into the camera.

“Rule no. 1: always face the camera,” you nodded, he patted your cheek with a slight smirk, “go on, maybe imagine me…mm’hmm, imagine i was squeeziin’ those pretty tits, yes…”

He smiled - almost proud as you finally closed your eyes, a soft inhale as your back arched, chest obscenely jutting out - same ministrations, much hotter.

And just when you moaned - he paused the recording, “ok enough of this, get up.”

Swift you moved - feeling the shyness coat you again, he himself placed the camera down momentarily - jogging back to his table to grab you a new fabric, bright pink - shorter, skimpier.

“Wear this now, like it better than the last one?” it was small playboy bunny suit, the little bunny ears gave it away - and the tail of course.

“If it is okay by you, of course…you’re already doing so good,” he drawled and then without a word - his own hands latched t your boobs, pressing them softly - feeling them, “mmhmm, so pretty,” you gasped as he pinched your left nipple.

He continued fondling your boobs - as you stumbled a little, his practiced hand held you tight as he switched between your two boobs perfectly - teasing just so perfectly.

And when he did pull away, his fingers had you so sore - you could practically beg.

“Ready to change?” he added with a small smile - chuckling to himself as your eyes cast him a desperate look - exactly as they all did.

He handed you the costume, eyeing you expectantly, and you looked around - for the changing room.

“Uh…here?” your voice was squeakier than you’d have preferred, he laughed, “well don’t be silly,” he booped your nose then, “it’s a small office for me - of course, no changing room.”

So whatever else remained of your little shame, you pulled that down just as swiftly as you pulled the maid-skirt off, aware of just how Suguru stared.

And he did so with utmost detail, he took not of just how your slick clung to the gusset of the built in panties - of how cute you looked, trying to hide yourself, of pretty your entire body was, of how stiff his pants felt and of how he wanted to absolutely eat you up from how adorable you looked.

And he made a mental note of definitely not posting that recording anywhere.

The bodice of the suit was flattering to say the least - the pesky heart cut out for the breasts barely contained anything, and Suguru made you give him a twirl too, only to watch the little tail bounce on the curve of your ass.

“Now…i want you to get on the floor, all okay?” he asked - not caring any longer, “get down and spread your legs f’me,”

The camera was up once again, capturing every detail, the shiny suit and the way you sprawled out.

“I want you to touch yourself - forget that i’m here or we’re recording, okay? Play with that lil’ cunt for me - please?” he added the please with a little pout - as if it would solve the issue at hand.

“T- touch myself?” you echoed, eyeing him now, “isn’t that…oh it’s…”

“Too much? I get it,” suguru was quick to file in - so easy to make you think otherwise, “as i said…you’re not cut for this,”

You sighed - not wanting to prove him right and closed your eyes, “uh…okay but…fuck, okay,” you caved in, suguru wanted to kiss you deeply to comfort you instantly, to tell you that he would be the only one who got to fuck his fist while watching this recording.

But he didn’t, at the moment at least.

Thus you began again, this time your fingers on your clothed sex, rubbing slow - deliberate circles, eyes closed and mind focusing, the camera was set, Suguru simply sat aside and rubbed his own bulge, muttering little praises for you every minute.

Five minutes in and the shiny pink fabric of the bunny suit had ridden up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of your inner thighs. Suguru felt his mouth go dry at the sight, his heart pounding in his chest.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "Now, I want you to start rubbing yourself faster through the fabric. Slowly, teasingly. Pretend it's my hand touching you, stroking you, making you feel good."

It was a stretch, using his name to get you off - but he knew it wouldn’t fail, never did.

Suguru watched as your hand moved between your legs repeatedly, fingers brushing faster over the front of the bunny suit. He could see the fabric beginning to dampen, to darken as your arousal grew. The sight made his cock throb, straining against the confines of his pants.

"That's my good girl," he praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Keep rubbing yourself, doll. Imagine it's my fingers teasing your pussy, my thumb circling your clit. I want to see you get yourself nice and wet for me."

He watched, enraptured as the camera continued recording, as your fingers moved more deliberately now, rubbing yourself more firmly through the damp fabric. 

Your breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling more rapidly as you lost yourself in the sensation.

"Fuck, you look so sexy like that," Suguru growled, his own hand moving faster to palm his aching cock through his pants. "Don't stop, baby. Keep touching yourself, keep teasing yourself for me. I want to see you get so fucking wet, so ready for me."

Suguru watched, transfixed, as your fingers moved, your hips beginning to rock against your  own touch. 

You dared not to look into the camera - or at suguru, “go on, get yourself to cum for me doll,” he called out - eyeing the way your fingers moved more frantically - eyeing the way your breath was more ragged.

But as the minutes ticked by, Suguru began to sense something was off. 

Your touches - more frantic; breathing - more labored,and  yet the telltale signs of an impending orgasm were nowhere to be seen. Your cheeks were flush with exertion and frustration, brows furrowed as you gritted your teeth.

And just like that, Suguru's patience began to wear thin. 

He had expected you to pick up easily - but obviously, your shyness just got the better of you.

Because here you were, struggling, failing to deliver the intense, authentic performance he craved. Irritation flashed in his purple eyes as he watched you, his grip tightening on the camera mic.

"Fuck, y/n," he called, his voice a low, annoyed rumble. "What's taking so long? You should be done by now doll, not just... come on- don’t toy with yourself halfheartedly."

He watched as you tried to pick up the pace, her fingers moving at a frenzied speed, the wet spot on your bunny suit growing larger, darker. But still, no release came. Suguru clenched his jaw, his cock twitching - begging to be the help you desperately craved.

"Dammit, you're not trying hard enough," he snapped, his patience finally snapping. 

With a harsh curse, Suguru ripped off his headphones and stormed out from behind the camera. He marched over to where you sat, panting and flushed, her fingers still moving weakly between her thighs.

"Enough," he barked, grabbing your wrist and yanking your hand away. "Get your fingers out of there. I'm going to show you how it's done- can’t manage nothing without me, huh?"

You looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of shame grappling back at you -  But there was also a glimmer of excitement, of anticipation, at the thought of Suguru finally taking control.

And as promised Suguru didn't waste any time. He dropped to his knees in front of you, pushing your legs further apart, exposing the soaked crotch of the bunny suit to his hungry gaze. Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against the damp fabric, his tongue laving over your clothed slit.

"Ohhh!" you gasped out loud, your back arching off the floor at the sudden, intense sensation - fingers moving to grip his hair.

Suguru was quick still, to move the crotch of your suit aside - tongue lapping on your slick folds.

Suguru groaned against her, “shit, been thinkin’ bout’ this cunt since last night,” the vibrations of his voice did none but to add to the incredible stimulation. He could taste your arousal through the thin   drenched fabric anyways, but what fun would that be ? he could smell the heady scent of your desire. It spurred him on, making him lick and suck at your clit harder, more insistently.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, his words muffled against her pussy. "I bet you're just aching to come, aren't you, baby? Desperate for release? See…told ya’ you’re perfect for this,"

He punctuated his words with a hard suck on your clit, making you cry out, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth studio floor. Suguru could feel your thighs beginning to tremble, your hips starting to buck against his mouth as he ate you out with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low, approving growl. "Let go. Come for me. I want to feel you fucking explode in my mouth. Want you on record as you lose yourself."

He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. 

At the same time, he pushed a finger under the crotch of the bunny suit, rubbing your bare, slick folds, stroking your inner walls.

"Ahhh! Oh god, Suguru!" you choked, your voice echoing off the studio walls. Your body went rigid, muscles locking up as the intense pleasure crested over you. 

Suguru groaned in satisfaction, feeling your juices gushing against his finger, soaking the bunny suit even more. He lapped at you greedily, not letting a single drop of your juices go to waste.

For a minute, neither spoke - as he allowed you to catch your breath - “well, that would make…one hell of a video,” he finally muttered, picking you up along side him, “you okay doll?” he confirmed once, smiling when you nodded.

He sat you down on his chair now - behind the camera as he paused the recording again, “i won’t post it, i just…well, it’s shady but you did say you …i mean,”

You hadn’t known him long - but it felt cute to see him fumble, “it’s okay - i…i liked it,” you said shyly and he grinned - “what will you do with it then?” you asked quietly as he handed you water.

“later use of course…” he chuckled, “you want a copy?” he laughed again when you nodded.

“Say…ready for round two…without that badboy?” he referred to his camera - “with handcuffs and chains maybe?”

You could only giggle at his suggestive eye brow raise.

All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you think leona ever asked his parents why he was even born? When he wasn't even destined to rule a kingdom and only exist in the background as a "prince", whose title meant nothing anymore when cheka was born.

(I want me some angst)

-anon

Possibly? I think that Leona probably had to come to terms with a lot of not-so-nice truths about the world and his place in it as he was growing up. He's a smart guy, he'd put two and two together eventually.

Coincidentally, Leona asks a similar question (“How can I become king?”) to a butler in the second volume of the light novel (during his post-OB flashback sequence). The butler becomes deeply uncomfortable and cannot seem to muster a response. In that moment, Leona states that he knew it was considered inappropriate for him to covet the throne. And then he praises himself for being such a clever child LMAO—

Maybe there was no particular reason for his birth. On royal money, they can have as many children as they want and still have the means to support them. Family planning isn't as necessary. If you really want to go the angst route though, maybe the Kingscholar parents had a second child as a "failsafe" in case something happened to Falena or he wasn't able to sire an heir. If that's the case, the parents probably weren't thinking about how this might affect Leona's mental or emotional wellbeing; they were preoccupied with cementing their rule into the next generation and might have figured Leona would be happy serving in some other governmental position instead of taking up the throne (which now belongs to Cheka by birthright).

It's sad to think about little Leona working so hard in order to get recognized. He must have been so full of hope and joy back then, before he realized his efforts were futile and he would never get what he wanted most of all. Not just the crown, but the love and admiration that comes with having your skill and merit recognized. I wonder if Leona got his UM before or after he had his dreams crushed...? If it's before, it feels like a bad omen and a reason for others to hate him. If it's after, it only feels like confirming what people believe about him... That he's only capable of taking and destroying, never building or growing. That has got to do some damage to your psyche.

Leona may not have even asked his parents The Question directly, honestly. His mother is scarcely mentioned and his father is ill... and Falena is busy ruling in their father's place, which makes me think that it was mostly Kifaji raising and taking care of Leona. Maybe Leona pipes up one day and asks the Grand Chamberlain why was he born if he has no purpose? And that startles Kifaji, who tries to reassure him, only for Leona to grow increasingly frustrated and accuse him of being evasive or lying to avoid telling him the ugly truth. If they're playing chess at the time, I can picture little Leona knocking all the pieces off the board with an arm and then storming off somewhere to sulk.

We still don't have the origins of his scar. Leona talks about it very casually in his Dorm Uniform voice lines, stating that scars are seen as marks of bravery in his home country, but never explaining how he got his. It could be that there's no grand story or meaning behind it--but I've also seen fan theories that the scar was the result of Leona doing something dangerous at a young age in a desperate attempt to be seen and praised by others. That detail could fit very well into this angst hypothetical.

[chdarling]

Frequently Asked Questions

Hi friends, I've decided to turn my ask box off for a while. This is not in response to any specific ask or any drama, I just can't keep up right now, and I continually feel guilty receiving asks I don't have the energy to answer. I've decided that guilt is not so great for my mental health right now, so I'm taking a wee break and figured I'd post some answers to some of the questions I receive the most.

Snippets and Spoilers can be found here.

***

When will TLE3 be released?

I don't have an exact date, but it probably won't be in 2025. I am giving myself the space and time to write TLE3 at my own pace and pleasure, and I plan to have a full draft finished before I start publishing on AO3. I promise when it's ready, you'll be the first to know.

***

Can I print TLE?

Please do not print TLE using any commercial printing service, as this is not legal (at least in the US, which is where I am). If you are printing and binding it yourself solely for personal use and in a manner that is 100% in compliance with copyright law – aka no one at any point in the process can make any money off of it – then I personally am fine with it (and very honored!). However, I cannot give approval for anything that infringes copyright law in any way. Thank you for understanding! I don't want to be sued!

***

Can I translate/create a podfic/create fanart for TLE?

I would be so unbelievably honored! I give a blanket approval for translations, podfics, and fanart, and I'm so, so touched that you would take the time to do this. I just ask that you ONLY post to AO3* and to please mark it as a related work so it's linked to the original. I may be slow to approve the AO3 email linking the fics, but I promise I will! Thank you!!

*except fanart, obviously. Do whatever you want with that. Although if you post it on tumblr, I would LOVE to see it. <3

***

Are you on any other social media sites?

No. I am ONLY on Tumblr, AO3, and the TLE discord. I don’t even use social media in my personal life, so don't try to find me! I'm not there!

***

Do you have fanfic recommendations?

I’m sorry, but I am not a good resource for this. I haven't actually read much fanfic as I spend most of my limited free time writing it. However, I always recommend checking out @jilyawards for a fantastic collection of the incredible talent in this fandom over the years.

***

Do you take requests for one shots/other fics?

No, sorry. I have my hands more than full with TLE.

***

Do you take suggestions for the plot of TLE?

No, sorry. I have the story pretty tightly plotted from beginning until the (very) end, and while I occasionally swerve down new creative alleys, I’m very committed to sticking to my original plan.

***

Is [super specific spoilery thing] going to happen in TLE?

You are of course welcome to ask, but I am almost certainly going to shout “SPOILERS!” and run away cackling.

***

You say this is a canon fic but [super specific thing that I don’t agree with] is included. What gives?

For the purposes of TLE, ‘canon’ means the original seven books. Everything else is dressing. I do include as canon a lot of the lore JKR provided in interviews while the books were being published (for example, James being a Chaser), however I tend to view all post-book authorial additions as mostly optional. I do use a fair amount of Pottermore in my story, but I do not keep up with new HP material, so it’s impossible to stay up to date with everything. For example, I tweaked the Animagus process somewhat to my liking as opposed to what is described in Pottermore. This is partly because I already had my version sketched out before that was published, and mostly because I did not like what was given on Pottermore.

I do not consider any of the films canon. If this alleged HBO show happens, I will not consider that canon. Video game? Not canon. I also simply do not know what the words ‘Cursed Child’ mean, as I am pretty sure this is from an alternate timeline in which I do not exist. Tra la la. :)

All of this to say: The seven books are the framework. However, I feel pretty strongly that within that framework there is room for many, many interpretations – particularly with regards to the Marauders era, about which we know so little. Just because my headcanon or characterization is different from yours (or vice versa!) doesn’t make it less canon. Similarly, just because something is not explicitly described in the seven books, doesn’t mean it is against canon for it to have happened in the background, unnoticed by Harry, or before the timeline of the seven books starts. See: Wolfstar.

***

Wait, there’s wolfstar in TLE?

Yes. There will be wolfstar in the series. I did tag it from day one, please stop sending me shocked and horrified messages! (lol) Because people have such strong feelings about this ship, I always feel the need to give my little disclaimer: There will be wolfstar. Personally, I love it and am excited to write it. However, if you are a fan of exclusively fluffy, happy wolfstar, you might be disappointed. If you are interested in exploring the fraught, occasionally toxic relationship between two angsty, repressed, and deeply traumatized young men during an escalating war…strap in, gird your loins, etc. We're gonna have some fun.

***

Why do you have two blogs?

Because I'm dumb. Because I didn’t know how tumblr worked when I started this whole nonsense and thought that a side blog sounded like a good idea…aaaaand then pretty much immediately regretted it. This was back before you could reply from a sideblog, so everything was a mess. I'm an archivist at heart, so I can't bring myself to delete @chdarling-tle but I almost exclusively use @chdarling these days. Feel free to only follow that one, unless you only want chapter updates and none of my silly reblogs, in which case @chdarling-tle is here for you. Otherwise it's pretty dead over there.

(ok, confession: this actually isn't a frequently asked question at all, but I shoved it in here anyway because the two blog thing annoys the shit out of me and I wanted to give some context for my disorganization. I meant well, once upon a time!!!)

***

Do you have a Patreon?

I’m amazed and flattered that I’ve been asked this enough to include it in an FAQ, but no, I do not. While I am so appreciative that people want to support this project, TLE is a work of fanfiction, created entirely out of and for love, and is in no way a commercial endeavor. I do not make a penny off of this project. I almost certainly lose pennies to this project. But that's okay! Because of the aforementioned love! And, once again, my deep and enduring desire to not be sued!

(One day I do hope to share some original writing, and if you feel so compelled, you may absolutely pay me for that, but I'm not quite there yet. 😉)

***

Ok but seriously when will TLE3 be released?

(sorry I couldn't resist)

***

Ok that's all I can think of right now. Thank you so much as always for your enthusiasm and support. My closed ask box is in no way a commentary on my appreciation for this community, I'm just very, very tired.

lots of love, CH

[mischievousmoony]

I’m blushing so hard at frat boy James!! What about the first time she comes over and meets the guys outside a party

hope i've done your idea justice! ty for requesting

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.9k ⟢ warnings/tags: references to drinking, technically american!james potter and american!marauders

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"It'll just take a minute," James promises. "We'll be in and out."

With his hand in yours, he leads you through the door, passing under the large Greek letters as you cross the threshold.

You have been seeing James for a month and a half. You never thought you'd be interested in a frat guy—you've never even step foot in one of their houses until now—but James has proven to be the opposite of what you thought a frat guy would be like.

James is a total sweetheart. Possibly the most thoughtful and genuine guy you've ever dated. He makes you feel special, always remembering the little things like your favorite flower or your drink orders at all your favorite places. He's attentive without ever being overbearing. But honestly, you don't think you could see him that way if you tried, always loving every bit of attention he gives you.

Today, he's taking you on a study date. He remembered that you were complaining about an upcoming exam in a class he's already taken, so he's grabbing his old notes and sitting you down in a quiet corner of the library so that he can help you study.

James would already have you set up in the library on the coziest chair with your favorite hot drink from the cafe if he didn't forget his old notebook in his room—which he felt rather sheepish about leaving behind.

So, here you are. James asked if you wanted to wait in the car, but you were curious to see the inside of one of these things. You half expected to see solo cups littering the floor, a pong table in place of a coffee table, and maybe even a few hungover frat guys strewn about the living room still sobering up from last nights antics.

You were a little surprised to find out that it was rather clean. You know from James that there was indeed a party here last night, but apparently they clean up nicely.

Although, you’re right about there being a pong table. But it is folded up and leaning against a wall for future use.

James guides you towards the stairs, but before he can even mount the first step someone appears in the foyer from a hall that you can see leads to the kitchen.

"Jamesie! Back so soon?" the boy cheers when his eyes land on his friend first. His eyes dart to you a second later, and something like recognition flashes in his expression. "Is this who I think it is?"

The boy has long, black hair that cascades just to his shoulders in soft waves, the kind that look effortless but too perfect to not be styled in some way. He stares at you with piercing blue eyes, making you feel oddly self-conscious, which might also have to do with the big smirk on his lips.

James squeezes your hand, sensing your nerves, but he'd bet money that they pale in comparison to his own. He's been nervous about bringing you around here. It doesn't have anything to do with you, or them (well, maybe he's a little worried they'll scare you off). You're really important to him, and so are they, and he's been putting a lot of pressure on introducing you to them. So, this unplanned visit has his palms sweating, which he's hoping you haven't noticed.

"Sirius," James greets his friend. "Yeah, this is Y/N."

Your eyes widen a fraction when Sirius immediately steps forward, taking your free hand to press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. "Hi, sweetheart, I've heard a lot about you. Truly, a lot. James has talked my ear off about you so I really feel like I'm meeting an old friend. I'm Sirius."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks but you're not alone, as James' own face turns rosy as he mutters a scolding "dude!" at his friend.

"Don't tell me you were just gonna sneak in without so much as a proper introduction." Sirius places a hand over his heart, a dramatic look of utter disbelief painting his face.

"We're just stopping by to get my notes. We have a very important study sesh to get to, didn't want to delay us too much," James explains, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"I promise it'll only be a short detour then. Pete and Remus are the only ones here anyway," Sirius says. His eyes dart to you again, something mischievous swimming within them. "We've all been dying to meet the girl that has our James so smitten. I mean, he's been going on and on and on. It's nice to finally have a pretty face to the name."

At Sirius’ words, you can’t help but crack a smirk as you peer up at James.

“Don’t look at me like that,” James murmurs, now rubbing his thumb across your knuckles the way he does when he gets anxious. James is sure the tips of his ears are bright red. Sirius will go to no end to embarrass him, but despite the fact that his heart might jump out of his chest at any second, James really only cares how you feel about the situation. James tilts his head toward you, lowering his voice to ask, "Are you up for meeting some of the guys?"

"Yeah," you say with a warm smile. "I'd love to meet your friends." And you really would. James talks a lot about them, too. Always reciting some story about all the shenanigans they've gotten into over the years.

You've been able to tell he's been overthinking bringing you to meet them. You get it—you're secure in James' feelings for you, so you know it's nothing personal. Plus, you were really nervous when James met your friends. To be honest, even though they were jokes, you're friends have made digs at frat guys before because of the stigma. You really wanted James and your friends to like each other, and thankfully, they really do and you had nothing to be worried about.

You hope that meeting his friends will have the same outcome and ease some of James' worries.

Sirius provides a generous introduction as you enter the kitchen. "Boys, it seems we have a very special guest in our midst this morning."

There are two guys sitting on kitchen stools who swivel around to greet you.

There's a lanky boy with mousy brown hair whose eyes dart back and forth between you and James before he directs a kind smile in your direction.

The other boy spins around mid-spoonful of a bowl of cereal. He abandons the utensil in his mouth to wave at you, his other hand occupied by the bowl resting in his palm.

Your eyes trail around the kitchen as James introduces you to them. It's rather large, as it would have to be to accommodate the large number of guys you assume live here.

You've also discovered the mess you thought you'd be stepping into. It seems that all of the discarded solo cups and beer cans have already been shoveled into a few trash bags, which are just about ready to burst at the seams as they wait by the back door to be taken out.

"I'm Peter," the boy with the cereal pipes up after returning his spoon to his bowl.

"Remus," the tall one introduces himself. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," you say. "You know, I've never been in a frat house before. I take it you all live here?"

Remus is the only one who shakes his head. "Not a brother," he clarifies. "Just unlucky enough to have them as my best friends."

"Oh, you know you'd be lost without us," Sirius says, rolling his eyes playfully. "And it's not a frat house, it's a frat home," Sirius says very earnestly. Too add to his dramatics, he pulls Peter into a hug (which nearly makes him fall off his stool) and raps his fist against his back as he pretends to get emotional.

Peter's laughing as he shoves, Sirius off. "Alright, man," he says, swatting Sirius' hand away as he ruffles his hair.

"Sirius had beer for breakfast," Remus informs you to excuse Sirius' behavior.

"Hey, I only had two and I know you're not suggesting I'm a lightweight," Sirius points at Remus accusingly. "Anyway, I was just telling Y/N how often Jamesie muses about her."

Remus clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Don't tease him too badly, Sirius.”

"It's not like it's not true," Peter shrugs, earning himself a glare from James.

You look up at James. His cheeks have deepened a few shades now as he glowers at Peter. You give his hand a squeeze to attract his attention, the expression on his face immediately softening when he looks at you.

“I think it’s sweet,” you say, encouraging a smile onto James’ lips. He drops your hand, only to wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side. You nuzzle your nose against his shoulder, looking at him with expectant eyes. He knows what you’re asking for, and would rather hand his friends more ammo to tease him with than deny you, so he gladly plants a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“You two are sickening.” Sirius leans over the counter, propping his chin up with his hand as he sighs dramatically. “It’s adorable,” he adds.

“Wrapped around her finger, are ya?” Peter joins in on the teasing.

James keeps his eyes on you as he responds. “You bet I am.”

You tear your eyes away from James’ sweet gaze to address his smirking friends. “You know, I've heard a lot about you guys too," you say.

Sirius lights up with intrigue. "Oh, do tell."

"Well, Peter must be the guy to go to if you want to have a laugh. Every time James asks ‘Wanna hear a story Peter told me’ I know I’m gonna have to sit through several fits of laughter before he gets to the end of it," you say, nudging James with your elbow who nods along to confirm your story.

Peter puffs up his chest, proud to be known as the funny one.

"Remus," you continue, "I should've known you weren't a brother. James always tells me about how they drag you into things that you have to get them out of. If he hasn't told you before, he's very thankful for you. And Sirius. I think I've heard the most interesting stories about you."

"This should be good," Sirius says, a cocky grin on his face. "I've given James a whole catalog of legendary stories to tell about me."

"My favorite is the one that started with you trying to impress a girl by jumping into the pool from the roof and ended with you in the bushes after you tripped on the gutter,” you say, an air of sweetness in your tone and a smile on your lips.

The confident smirk drops from Sirius’ face and James snorts a laugh beside you. Peter cracks up, and even Remus snickers at the look on Sirius’ face.

"I think you’ve just won over Sirius," Remus says, watching as his grin returns.

“You got me, I can appreciate that,” Sirius says. “Why have you been hiding her from us for so long, James? I like her.”

"Yeah, I like her too,” James replies, squeezing you a little closer into his side. He doesn't bother trying to hide the broad grin overtaking his features. As he looks down at your giggling face, he can't remember what he was so nervous about.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[talenlee]

Life With Generative Tools

In 2023, back when my posts were still being shared to Twitter because the API wasn’t paid-only, I wrote an article about the potential ramifications of generative art media going forward. My concern in the immediate was that the tools weren’t going to go away, but also the potential harm to artists was as much about general economic precarity and not people using fanart to make their D&D characters. I further added to this with a consideration of how I wanted to avoid using generative art in my game development because I didn’t want what people would say about it. That is, a social pressure about the art is what keeps me from using it, not a personal philosophical disposition. I’m an artist who already works with collage and constraints, this feels like a handy way to have something I can play with.

Well, it’s been a year and change and a sort of AI Art Apocalypse has happened, and if you’re not aware of it, it’s because you’re someone who avoids all of the pools that have been so thoroughly pissed in that they are now just piss. If you’re at all related to any part of the internet where people share a bunch of images – which is to say a lot of social media – then you’re already dealing with the place crawling with generative images. Whether it’s a fanart booru, or big sites like facebook and twitter, or god help you deviantart, there is a pretty clear sign that anywhere that opened the door to generative art became a space overwhelmingly for generative art.

I teach about this subject now and I have had some time with it in a situation away from the internet, and I’d like to give you some insights into what this stuff is for, what it does, why you shouldn’t use it, and ways it can be useful.

Content Warning: I’m going to be talking about these tools as tools that exist and leaving the philosophical/ethical arguments about ‘art theft’ and their genesis aside. I’m not including any examples. No shrimp jesus jumpscare.

You might notice I’m saying ‘generative art’ and not ‘AI art.’ Part of this is because I don’t want to buy into the idea that these tools are ‘artificial intelligence.’ Ironically, ‘AI art’ now has less of an implication of being ‘Artificial Intelligence’ and is much more of an implication of ‘it’s ugly shiny art of shrimp jesus with badly spelled signs.’

I want to focus for this conversation on generative graphical tools, and I want to do that because I don’t have much experience with the other types. The textual generators offer me something I don’t really need? I already make a ton of words of dubious quality. Those are actually the things that concern me because their natural aesthetic is authoritive and comprehensive and that’s why it’s a problem that they’re being used to present any old nonsense that may just be straight up wrong. I don’t use those tools and I avoid the platforms that use them so I’m not familiar with them.

Things Generative Art Is Good For

I already use art I don’t own, a lot, for playing. Every day for the past three years I’ve shared a custom Magic: The Gathering playing card, a game I don’t own the rights to, using a card face I don’t own the rights to, and artwork from an artist on Artstation whose artwork I did not pay for or even ask for. This is generally seen as a totally reasonable and acceptable form of playful, transformative media generation and I at no point pretend I have any rights to the material. If I take a picture of someone famous and put a speech bubble over their mouth saying ‘I drink farts,’ if I, as tumblr says, play with jpgs like dolls, that is by no means being done with rights and permission.

Which means we’re already aware that there’s a way of playing with images that both violates copyright but is generally okay to do.

The metric I use for this is if the thing you’re using generative art for doesn’t matter, then it doesn’t matter. If you’re not going to try and claim money, if you’re not going to put it on a marketplace, if you aren’t going to try and claim ownership and profit off generative material, I think you’re probably fine. I mean probably, if you’re using it to say, generate revenge porn of a classmate that’s an asshole move, but the thing is that’s a bad thing regardless of the tool you’re using. If you’re using it to bulk flood a space, like how Deviantart is full of accounts with tens of thousands of pictures made in a week, then that’s an asshole move because, again, it’s an asshole move regardless of the tool.

If you’re a roleplayer and you want a picture of your Dragonborn dude with glasses and a mohawk? That’s fine, you’re using it to give your imagination a pump, you’re using it to help your friends visualise what matters to you about your stuff. That’s fine! It’s not like you’re not making artistic choices when you do this, cycling through choices and seeing the one that works best for you. That’s not an action deprived of artistic choice!

There are also some things that are being labelled as ‘AI’ which seem to be more like something else to me. Particularly, there are software packages that resize images now, which are often calling it ‘AI upscaling,’ which it may be using some variety of these Midjourney style models to work, but which serves a purpose similar to sequences of resizes and selective blurs. There are also tools that can do things like remove people from the background of images, which is… good? It should be good and easy to get people out of pictures they didn’t consent to be in.

Things Generative Art Is Bad For

Did you know you don’t own copyright on generated art? This is pretty well established. If you generated the image, it’s not yours, because you didn’t make it. It was made by an algorithm, and algorithms aren’t people. This isn’t a complicated issue, this just means that straight up, any art you make at work that’s meant to be used for work, shouldn’t be used because people can just straight up use it. Logo design, branding, all that stuff is just immediately open for bootlegging or worse, impersonation.

Now you might think that’s a bit of a strange thing to bring up but remember, I’m dealing with students a lot. Students who want to position themselves as future prompt engineers or social media managers need to understand full well that whatever they make with these tools are not things that will have an enduring useful application. Maybe you can use it for a meme you post on an account, but it’s not something you can build branding off, because you don’t own it. Everyone owns it.

From that we get a secondary problem, because if you didn’t own it, its only use is what people say or think when they look at it, and thing is, people are already sick and tired of the aesthetics of generated art. You’re going to get people who don’t care glossing over it, and people who do care hating it. Generative art as a way of presenting your business or foregrounding your ‘vibes’ are going to think that your work is, primarily, ‘more AI art’ and not about what it’s trying to communicate. When the internet is already full of Slop, if you use these tools to represent your work, you are going to be turning your own work and media presence into slop.

What’s more, you need to be good at seeing mistakes if you’re using these tools. If you put some art out there that’s got an extra thumb or someone’s not holding a sword right, people will notice. That means you need to start developing the toolset above for fine-tuning and redrawing sections of artwork. Now, that’s not a bad thing! That’s a skill you can develop! But it means that the primary draw of these tools is going to be something that you then have to do your own original work over the top of.

The biggest reason though I recommend students not treat this work like it’s a simple tool for universal application is that it devalues you as a worker. If you’re trying to get hired for a job at a company and you can show them a bunch of generative art you’ve made to convince them that you’re available, all you are really telling them is that you can be replaced by a small script that someone else can make. Your prompts are not unique enough, your use of the tool not refined enough that you can’t just be replaced by anyone else who gets paid less. You are trying to sell yourself as a product to employers, and generative art replaces what you bring with what everyone brings.

They make you lazy! People include typos in the generative media because they’re not even looking at them or caring about what they say! And that brings me to the next point that there are just things these tools don’t do a good job doing, and that’s stuff I want to address next in…

Things That Are Interesting

Because the tools of generative art create a very impressive-seeming artistic output, they are doing it in a way that people want to accept. They want to accept them and that means accepting the problems, or finding a way to be okay with those problems. People who don’t care that much about typos and weird fingers and so on, because you know, it gets me a lot of what I want, but it doesn’t get me everything, and I don’t know how to get the everything.

If you generate an image and want to move something in it a little bit, your best way to do that is to edit the image directly. Telling the software to do that, again, but change this bit, this much, is in fact really hard because it doesn’t know what those parts are. It doesn’t have an idea of where they are, it’s all running on an alien understanding of nightmare horror imagery.

What that means is that people start to negotiate with themselves about what they want, getting to ‘good enough’ and learning how to negotiate with the software. My experiments with these tools led to me making a spreadsheet so I could isolate the terms I use that cause problems, and sometimes those results are very, very funny. In this, the tool teaches you how to use it (which most tools do), but the teaching results in a use that is wildly inappropriate to what the tool promises it’s for.

One of my earliest experiments was to take four passages from One Stone that described a character and just put that text straight into midjourney to see what it generated based on that plain text description. Turns out? Nothing like what I wanted. But when I treated it like say, I was searching for a set of tags on a booru system like danbooru or safebooru… then it was pretty good at that. Which is what brings me to the next stage of things, which is like…

These things were trained on porn sites right?

Like, you can take some very specific tags from some of the larger boorus and type them into these prompt sites and get a very reasonable representation of what it is you asked for, even if that term is a part of an idiolect, a term that’s specific to that one person in one space that’s become a repeated form of tag. Just type in an artist name and see if it can replicate their style and then check to see what kind of art that artist makes a lot of. This is why you can get a thing that can give you police batons and mirrored sunglasses just fine but if you ask for ‘police uniform’ you get some truly Tom of Finland kind of bulging stuff.

Conclusion

Nobody who dislikes generative art is wrong. I think there are definitely uses of it that are flat out bad, and I think it’s totally okay and even good to say so. Make fun of people who are using it, mock the shrimp jesuses, make it very clear you’re aware of what’s going on and why. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I do think that these tools are useful as toys, and I think that examining the art that they produce, and the art that the community around them are exalting and venerating tells us stuff. Of course, what they tell us is that there are a lot of people out there who really want porn, and there are just as many people who want the legitimisation of impressive seeming images that they don’t care about what those images are doing or what they’re for.

Now part of this defensiveness is also the risk of me being bitten. If I buy stock art that isn’t correctly disclosed as being generative art, then I might make and sell something using generative art and now I look like an asshole for not being properly good at detecting and hating ‘AI art,’ and when I’ve say, made a game using generative art that then is integrated into things like worldbuilding and the card faces, then it gets a lot harder to tear it out at the roots and render myself properly morally clean. I’m sure a bunch of the stock art I used before 2020 was made algorithmically, just pumped out slop that was reprocessing other formula or technical objects to fill up a free stock art site like Freepik.

Which is full of generative art now.

You won’t hurt yourself by understanding these things, and people who are using them for fun or to learn or explore are by no means doing something morally ill. There are every good reason to keep these things separated from anything that involves presenting yourself seriously, or using them to make money, though. If nothing else, people will look at you and go ‘oh, you’re one of those shrimp jesus assholes.’

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[cryptid-killjoy]

"I don't know. I get lazy on my haircuts sometimes. I'm not sure my curls would do well with a cabby's hat. I'll have to try it out." He laughed.

Were Flotsam and Clopin good friends? "Oh, fuck yeah. The best. He wouldn't be Uncle Clopin if not. Pretty sure my dad was just a busker's fan boy hiding in the tree with stars in his eyes till they finally met." He smirked just picturing it. Dale aired it on the real.

When GoGo had the gull to say money couldn't buy common sense Dale's smile grew and his body didn't just lean in, his heart did. This wasn't a boy that got to open up much so to feel anyone on his side after how hard he fought as a teenager when shit began to hit the fan to watch his own mother not choose him, always wondering what was wrong with him, why he wasn't good enough, not that he'd admit that to a soul, it just felt... good.

"You're telling me. Right? Finally." Then he leaned in real close and told a family secret. It wasn't even his secret to tell, but that's how much Dale was moved by the feeling of connection to another person at all. "She cried diamonds. She was a crybaby about everything. Well, Chip can do it. Cry diamonds. But Chip doesn't cry. It takes a lot to get Chip to cry." It might not have been his to tell, but how he ended it was the most Dale offer ever. "And just for saying what you did, if you ever really get hard up, just let me know, I'll pin him down and pluck his nose hairs. I'll get those eyes watering diamonds to pawn just for you."

Only Dale.

When GoGo belched Dale took that as cue to belch one out on purpose only to try to make his a little louder and then say his own score out loud. "Eh maybe 7. I'll do better next round. Back to the tour."

Also, only Dale. Dale's way of not letting a lady feel weird about the belch as they stared at the playground where the Renault house used to be surrounded by such a ritzy neighborhood. She said she couldn't imagine it. "Yeah well, it was a big ass fancy place with a pool. Gated shit."

He did not look ashamed at all when he was called out as the panty thief. "Because you are correct. Sue me. The panty jail is overcrowded. The most I'll get is probation." He teased.

He kept watching GoGo laugh and he wasn't sure he'd seen her laugh and smile so much. He wasn't even quite sure she could. He liked it.

She asked him if he kicked ass. "Oh puleeze. What do you think? People really need to learn starting shit with this family ends up fatal. People never get the best of us. If they ever win a battle, they only start a war."

He leaned his head back mocking it all. Dale, like most his family did not seek power. He only wanted to be left in alone.

"Look at this Feral city stricken off the US map." He laughed alcohol filled bigger picture eyes all wide quite proud. "Our friends did that. Our circle. Look at Pipes and the Utopia that is that entire country now. An entire country and city of fuck this world's rules. My family's people did that." He poked at GoGo's arm. "Have you ever considered how completely awesome you are that we love you? I mean really. You're so fucking cool."

Yup, Dale was indeed that I love you drunk.

Unless he was angry.

It was Halloween. He was home. He had no reason to be angry. He was happy.

"Oh, you want to come back for a Funkytown party? Then we're putting it on the list. It's happening. We're gonna check it off. I'm taking ya. Hap-pen-nen. It's in stone now."

He thought about her words. "You know what? It was. I didn't get then because it's just where we were. I didn't know any different to know. But it was. It was a cool place, GoGo. It was. I was fucking lucky. Minus the skeeters of course."

She didn't say much when he spoke of Megabyte but it was in her eyes. If anyone understood it was her and he hadn't even realized all this time how alike they really were. He took the taki with a nod of thanks and even though no words were exchanged it felt like a while lot more was traded between them, and it felt safe to leave it there with her.

With jacked up laptop in tow and emotions shoved back down where Dale likes to keep them the tour moved along.

Of course Skull Rock. "Yeah, we mean it when we call Willem a pirate."

As for Christmasland and capitalism, "That's why it's well hidden in the depths of this swamp. If you knew this swamp, you'd know why tourists don't have a tendency to find it. I'll tell you what. If we ever get a chance to come here at Christmas time, I'll prove it to you. But it's one of those all nighter hikes. You'll also find out once you're in, you get hijacked by so much merriment it'll make you puke and even capitalists can't escape without jingle bells on their toes and a candy cane in their hand not knowing how they even got back home. You fall asleep there you might just end up in your bed back home. It's fucked up. Like Christmas morning dream magic. It's so weird. It's like the place decides if you get to stay." He shook his head just remembering the wacked upness.

"Oh yeah. I imagine there's still zombies out here. I mean, our family used to release them in the wilds. We used to keep a population count. That was just us. Who knew what other witches were doing. Plus, have zombie releases, like hunting parties for fun. Counts could have been off. Sometimes we'd just end because we were partying it up. There's bound to have been some strays. But, after what happened to the city they've probably migrated over time even if there weren't a lot of people in the swamps to begin with."

As for the change of clean clothes. "Eh, don't worry about it. I'm a swamp boy. I'll live."

The compliments. He couldn't quite tell if she was bothered by them nor was sure he cared. He was telling the truth.

But how much had he had to drink?

"Not enough yet."

He took another swig.

"Doesn't mean it's not true, GoGo. Don't be shy about compliments. You deserve 'em."

He looked down at his Ken doll crop top and laughed.

"Hopefully that doesn't mean I look like someone who really would challenge someone to a beach off. But, cool. Now you've done it. I'll remember that for later. I'll keep up the crop top trend... for your parents." He winked.

There was something fun about that day despite it being super sad.

What else was super sad was the next scattered remains of his actual life. Piper burned down their homestead, but what still remained was random stick dolls or other Blair Witch looking symbols hanging from tree branches the closer they got to the property to scare tourists off. Dale could remember all the actual protection spells on their home only for a family member to destroy it from the inside. He wasn't even mad. It just stirred feelings.

"Woah, woah, woah. Here we are. There. Park.... wherever."

At this point it was pointless to tell her where to pull up. Nearly everything had been burned down by Piper's Hellfire. The fact it was put out was a miracle. It'd been a couple years, and the land had started to heal itself.

Dale opened his car door and take a look around despite GoGo's early concerns of zombies. He still had Chip's gun from earlier, but for now he left it in the car. He was scanning the area visually. It was huge with no house on it. They'd always had such a huge yard anyway. Plus, the yard was right against the river. It was a gorgeous open landscape now. The entire home's remains were buried like a sinkhole underground. The open image so clean and healthy left Dale breathless. He started to point.

"Bunny run. There. Picture it. House. There. Dad's houseboat was always docked there. Pontoon. There." He'd cover his mouth in between each new direction in awe of the nothingness. "Paintball course. All the haystacks. There. Garden. There. That's where we kept all our atv's and off roads. We had a mini-shop to be our own garage in there."

"Oh! It's a few miles out." He spun around. "In that direction. Best mudding run in four county swamps. I swear. We know a dry patch for motorcross too. Hill hopping was Chip's go to. He was a pro. I'll tell you another secret. When we pair up as a team my metal skills help hold a car together that might not otherwise. But I only cheat when people are assholes to me. Plus, it's not always cheating when riding against other magic users. You never know what game they've got up their sleeve. No holds barred derbies are funny. People hexing the fuck outta people."

Then he saw something he didn't have to imagine. "Oh, my fuck. Look up there. Look. Look." He started jogging through the woods. "Is that. It is. Oh God. It is. I thought the fire got everything. Look."

There up high in a tree was one of the platforms he and his brother built. These were seriously tall trees, not your average backyard tree from a suburb.

"It's the Ewok Village. Well, part of it. Oh, look another one. A hut one." He pointed in another direction. Nothing could have wiped the smile off his face then. "The zip line is gone. We used to have them running from tree to tree. We'd walk across them, had ropes, and rope ladders, or just climbed depending on the tree." Then he gave the tree a good look.

"I'm gonna try it."

He was grinning big.

"You wanna?"

He was pointing up.

The guy was having trouble sitting down in a car, got drunk, and now thought he was going to climb a giant tree. Yup, that was so Dale.

“Sounds American enough for me,” Go-Go said. They might as well just loot the store, so she picked up some snacks that she hadn’t seen before yo go along with the alcohol. Poptarts. Hot Chili Takis. Peanut Butter cups. Jelly Bellies. It was Halloween, so bring on the candy rush.

And then onwards to the lengthy tour.

Even with the expensive alcohol burning through her stomach, she was a damn good driver, and took every turn that Dale advised her too, all without crashing onto the sidewalk or into lightposts and fire hydrants. They didn’t have to worry about the average person walking back, Valerie and Thomas had already made their way to the inn, and there were no other walkers.

The classics were cool enough, even if history wasn’t really her thing. “I could see you running one of those tourbuses,” She chuckled up at Dale. “With the microphone, making cheesy jokes to all of the tourists. You would be fantastic.”

She knew who most of the people that he talked about were. Clopin, obviously, they had met a couple of times, not the least of all she had seen him and his husband tonight, having a good time at the Ball. She tried to picture him as a younger man, which was pretty amusing. She could only do so with clown makeup. “They must be pretty close friends then,” She said, about Flotsam bringing up that tree everytime they would have passed it by.

She was snacking now, mixing the spicy with the sweet. Half-melted peanut butter cups with the takis stuffed in them. It was a feast for the eyes, for the ears, and now for the tongue.

“A magic school … full of teenagers … next to a super dangerous forest,” GoGo said dryly. She didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that it was going to go all wrong from the beginning. She didn’t mean to trash on his birth mom but she couldn’t help saying - “Really don’t think she was smart enough to open a school in the first place. Money can’t buy common sense, evidently.”

The construction was forever going to be unfinished. The person who had been working on it, meticulously building it back up, was long dead. Somewhere out there wandering, most likely. Forever searching for his toddler daughter. Tragic. Moving on.

She wasn’t used to these kind of compliments yet. She was growing adjusted to them, since the Laveaus could be complimentary people if they liked you. Especially Scout. But that coming from Dale, plus the snacks, plus the liquor.

She let out a belch as the bubbles from the alcohol seemed to come back up, and then giggled at herself. “Yeah, I’m glad you guys became kiwis too.”

They went into the fancy neighborhood. There was a playground now, at the place where Dale was pointing. The place that had once been the Renault house until Boogie destroyed it. “I always forget that those two were a thing,” She laughed, looking out the window, tilting her head slightly. “I really can’t imagine it.”

When they met, Chip had multiple wives. And Maddy was at the very least engaged to Bastien, and they were married shortly after the Laveaus moved to New Zealand. Anything else just seemed - odd.

“Why do I feel like it was you being the panty-stealer and not your brother?”

They kept on driving and stopping but Go-Go really didn’t mind. They had all night. And all day. “You kicked his ass, didn’t you?” She said about the guy that was running his mouth. That seemed a very Dale-like thing to do.

Funkytown was lit and looked like it was jumping, even if Figaro and Willem weren’t there quite yet. Door clown was dancing in the doorway, his hat just being seen through the window in the front door. Small figures were silhouettes through thin curtains. There was even a thump that could be heard from the outside (Diana’s leg had fallen off again and she took a tumble down the stairs, though she was alright as always). “Well shit, I hope we get to come back for a Funkytown party.”

She’d take occasional swigs of the liquor despite driving. Without any other cars on the roads, or pedestrians, there wasn’t as much worry. The alcohol seemed to help expand her mind during all of these stories, taking in what was behind and between the words. Getting to know Dale in a new light. Hell, they had even lived together and she didn’t know him that well. This was the most that they had talked, at least since her father kicked her out.

They really were going everywhere, from downtown to rich-ville to the trailerpark. This place had a lot of history, though Go-Go was only getting bits and pieces of it right now. She parked the car in front of the trailer that Dale was indicating, the headlights bringing light onto it. It looked abandoned. It looked … rough.

“Yeah,” She nodded, knowing that feeling all too well of losing a best friend. Fuck, she knew it well, as Dale had found out earlier. “I’m sure we would have got on.”

She held out another peanut-butter taki creation and the expensive bottle of alcohol, not saying anything.

“So you just make it your mission to be everyone’s big brother, huh?” She asked after a moment, remembering Babyface and Ellie, the two youngest at the Ball apart from when Frankie was brought up.

She stopped when he suddenly called out the wait, and climbed out through the open window, sitting on the door and leaning over the hood of the car, watching as he ran in and took a bunch of electronics. Even she was eyeing some of the stuff when he brought it back. “Damn, that’s a jacked-up laptop.”

In a good way, of course.

But then back to the roads, passing through places that … looked like a dream. Especially Sherwood forest. With it not being lit up, it looked like something out a horror movie that Figaro would love. Deserted. The joust was over.

“You’re lucky,” She spoke, after Dale was reminiscing about what one could do in the city in the span of a single day. “To have grown up somewhere so cool.”

Down the even shadier road, the trees not being tended to and growing out of control, limbs going out onto the road, making their branches hit the windshield. Nothing cracked it yet, but who could tell what would happen later down the line. There was a feeling of excitement growing inside of her to see the ruins of the old Laveau house, which she had heard so much about. It was like a little kid catching the first glimpse of a ferris wheel or a roller coaster on the way to an amusement park. So closer, just a little further.

“Of course there’s a Skull Rock, why am I not surprised.”

“I don’t know whether to believe you or not,” She teased. A door to another world just seemed … so crazy. So unlikely. And something that someone would definitely snatch up and use to make money or something like that. Build a resort in Christmasland. Capitalism as its finest. “Let me guess, Santa lives in there?”

The smell grew heavier the more they went. A heady, green smell that made her feel a little bit dizzy, though that could have been the alcohol too. She was driving slower, with the swamps all around. It looked and felt as if the car could get stuck and go down into the murky depths at any second. “You said there’s zombies around here, in these woods, right?” She asked, rolling up her window for the time being.

“Oh shit, yeah, probably,” She said, taking in Dale’s outfit again. It had been funny in the first place but now there was grass stains on the pink shirt from when he had crashed into the ground. Dirt stains too, on his knees and other parts of his body. Not to mention that half of him looked like a giant bruise, partly her doing. “I’d offer ya something but - it’s not my car so there’s no sweater in the back.”

She turned her head to look at him with an eyebrow raised, and then laughed, shaking her head, looking back to the trail. It was dark out here, despite the slowly raising sun. They couldn’t see beyond the headlights. More compliments. “Right, and you’ve had how much to drink tonight?”

“My parents hate everything, to be fair,” She cracked up, thinking of what their faces would look like if they could see her right now. “Almost wish I was talking to them again, just so I could tell them about this. Alone, with you, in our costumes, in a stolen car, in an abandoned city halfway across the world, going down what seems like the darkest fuckin’ path known to man.”

They’d probably try to exorcise her or something. Slap her with reeds because she didn’t know discipline. Lock her in her room for forty days and forty nights until she came to her senses or some such shit.

“You’re not too bad yourself, crop tops suit you, actually.”

[tricksh0t]

★ goody two-shoes

☾ gregory house x cop male reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ just a quick thirst, don't start freaking out, also sorry if he turns out ooc cuz i've literally only watched tiktok clips from the show

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 1.26k words

cw: suggestive thirst, but no nsfw, trying to corrupt a cop

You've seen everything in your time as a traffic officer. Specifically everything about traffic, of course.

Men, that could possibly be great-grandparents, taking a little too long to move after the red light while driving the family hatchback, doing their grandkids a favor by driving his great-grandkids home.

Old men speeding because their reflexes are just not the same or they can't tell how fast they're going or their vision fails them and they read the speed limit sign wrong.

Men in their mid-life crisis driving the restored version of the old car they yearned to have in their childhood, speeding because they want to feel that rush thet felt lacking in their life.

Younger men speeding in their beatdown cars because they slept in one day and ended up being late for work, fearful of a paycut.

Young men speeding in their flashy sports cars because they're rich and apathetic, because they think the world revolves around their money.

You thought, however, that this shift would be boring. Hoped for it, even. It was a late night. You were just looking to kick your feet up on the dashboard, park under a shadow and fuck around on your phone.

You were wrong, though. Of course you were.

You've seen a lot of things, but not this. A graying man speeding late at night like he has somewhere to be that isn't home. No, no, who are you to judge?

...is that a cane on the side of his bike?

House sighs as sirens follow him. He should've known that dark shadow was a perfect spot for a cop.

He pulls over, like the good citizen he is. He gets off his bike, like the good citizen he is.

"Officer." He greets cordially, placing his helmet on his bike with a sigh. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

You raise a brow. You can already tell this old man is going to have an attitude. "This will take as long as it needs."

The man has the audacity to roll his eyes and cross his arms. "Look, I've got a busy night ahead."

"Tell me about it." He opens his mouth, but you stop him. There's some satisfaction in making him look like a gaping fish. "While you look for your license and registration and proof of insurance."

He gives you more attitude when he looks to the sky as if muttering a quick prayer before digging into his decidedly tight pants and fishing his license out of his wallet.

You inspect it, but he stays still as you do so. "Look for your papers, sir."

Not expired, good...address isn't too far from here to justify speeding...he certainly looks like his picture. His name is Gregory House.

"I don't have them."

"You don't have them?" You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. "You–"

"This jacket is small enough as it is, and before you ask, it is stylish and protective. Scraped skin is more painful than it is harmful." He locks eyes with you. A man several years your senior, staring you down to try to make you back down. With what, attitude?

Luckily, you have the better hand. You're taller, you're bigger–no, nevermind all that, you're a cop. "You–"

"Exactly why did you pull me over again?" House tilts his head.

"Speeding." You say between gritted teeth. "Twenty over the speed limit."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He says, kicking off his bike to stand upright. He shuffles closer with an awkward gait, yes, that was a cane on his bike. "It's late at night. Age gets to you, you know, officer. I couldn't see very well."

"That's what the lights on your bike are for." You say, shoving your hands into your pockets and breathing deeply. You can't let him get on your nerves. "And you're driving a motorcycle, sir, I think you can't play the age card."

"You don't get to decide that." Despite his bad leg, he stands up tall, challenging you. You see eye to eye, and you notice he's not exactly handsome...but there sure is tension, there.

"Really?" You huff out a laugh. All thoughts about keeping your calm are gone after that.

House smiles. "Really."

"Well, I do get to decide that you are going to sleep in cold jail cell tonight."

His smile disappears, replaced with a frown. "Come on, officer. You're seriously not going to detain me over not having my papers, are you? That's absurd. And it's petty, too. Even you cant deny that."

"That's funny," You scoff, "I'm thinking the same about you."

Out of all things, House looks offended at that. "Fine, fine you know, I can understand that, really, officer. I deserve it. I'm an asshole, I know, but you like it, don't you? You can't help but find my words charming."

You breathe out a huff, something between laughter and disbelief. "Now that is something I've never heard before."

"Something you've never heard before?" He seems to be in disbelief too, "I'm sure you've heard it from some young lady, maybe even another man. You mean you've never heard it from an old man, don't you?"

He takes your silence as a yes. "You know, there's always a time for firsts."

"You're really not as charming as you think you are." You approach. He walks backwards in return, but you follow, up until the back of his foot hits his tire.

"I'm a doctor." House begins desperately. "I'm expected at the hospital tomorrow for an early morning shift. You're not going to stop me from saving lives are you?"

For a moment, you let him think he's got you. You let the words sit in, like you're really thinking, like you're sympathizing with him. "Are you resisting arrest, sir?"

"What? No–"

You take his arm and spin him around, keeping his forearm pinned against his back.

"Hey!"

You use that forearm to press him against the back of his own back and pin him down further. When the first cuff wraps around his wrist, he begins to protest.

He doesn't even say "we can talk about this". He just starts talking. "Oh real funny, yeah. Pin down the helpless old cripple."

Then the other cuff wraps around his other wrist. "I bet this is one of your fantasies. Pinning down an old man and using him as you please. I'm too weak for you, I'll admit that. So why don't you just push me against the hood of your work car and do as you like?"

Staring down at the way his leather jacket and loose shirt ride up, you're certainly tempted. His tight pants do nothing for the imagination, especially with how close you are. You're pressed against him, really.

If he were a woman, with his short jacket and his belted pants, you might've even seen the peek of a thong from this angle...but he's not a woman. Yet, undeniably, the curve of his ass still entices you. His attitude would certainly be fun to quiet.

...but you're a cop.

The handcuffs click as they're pushed as tight as they can be.

"You want to have a fun time?" You ask, forcing him to stand back up with a grip on the cuffs. "Jail's fun. You can imagine the cold as the climate of a skeeing mountain."

As you drag him off towards your car, he digs his feet into the ground. "Wait, my bike!"

"You know the rules. It'll be towed." You continue dragging him.

House sighs. "Fuckin' goody two-shoes cops."

[swtt4hk]

Are we still lovers? || ex!Cho Sang-woo x fem!Reader (Oneshot)

requested by: anonymous!

author’s note: this was inspired by the song “Are we still friends?” By Tyler , The Creator! It also contains some curse words…enjoy!

he’s here…again. Cho Sang-woo , your ex , is here to beg you to come back again. Everyday is the same shit. He comes over shouting and wakes up the whole neighbourhood just to beg you to come back. But of course you’re not going back to him , not after what he did to you.

You and Cho Sang-woo had been together for a few years now. You were both really happy with your relationship and were even planning to get married soon. Until one day , everything changed.

Flashback

—I’m breaking up with you.

You freeze. Him wanting to break up with you was the last thing you expected to hear.

—w-what? No , you aren’t.

—yes , I am. I’ve already packed your things.

—what?! But why?! Is there anyone else? What happened? What about our plans? You were just telling me , a few days ago , about where you want us to get married!

You protest with tears in your eyes. The truth is , Sang-woo didn’t want to break up with you either. He loved you a lot. But he had just gotten an offer to go work in America and he couldn’t turn down such offer. Money was tough and he couldn’t take you with you , so he had to make a decision. It was either you or his career. But his ego took over him and he chose to go to America. He thought that if he stayed here , he wouldn’t achieve anything and would make your life harder. But let’s be real. Work was his top priority, you were his second choice.

—do I really need to explain this to you? Don’t make this any harder for me and leave.

—no! Sang-woo , I’m your girlfriend and I have every right to know why you want to break up with me!

His jaw clenched in frustration and sighs.

—you wanna know the truth so badly, huh? Here it is then. I’m leaving you. I’m going to America. I got offered a better position and I’ll make much more money than I do here.

your eyes soften as tears roll down your cheek.

—Sang-woo , that’s amazing…why can’t I come with you?

He can’t tell you. He can’t admit that he doesn’t have any money. He’ll seem weak and miserable , so he lies instead. He has to.

—I don’t need any distractions. Also , the work hours will be long.

Then it hits you. He doesn’t love you anymore? He finds you a distraction? That’s not the Sang-woo you know…there is more to it.

—Cho Sang-woo! Stop lying and tell me why you don’t want me to come with you!

—I can’t sit here and argue about something pointless. Just take your things and go!

You burst into tears , take your things and go. You don’t have any choice.

End of Flashback

Ding dong

Here we go again.

—y/n! I know you’re in there , please just open the door! How many times do I have to apologise?!

you walk to the door

—you think an apology can fix this? You’re such an asshole , you don’t know me at all.

—please , just please open the door…

his voice breaks and cries. You’re tired of this shit. It wouldn’t hurt if you finally opened the door , right?

the door unlocks , revealing Sang-woo on the floor , his shirt half unbuttoned and his cheeks red. He must be drunk.

—you better have a good explanation.

You say coldly , not even offering to help him get up.

—can…can I come in?

He says and looks at you like some desperate puppy. You sigh and gesture him to come in. You both sit on the couch and wait for him to speak.

—y/n…can you please come back? I’m sorry. I need you. I promise I’ll be a better man for you.

You scoff at his words.

—I didn’t let you in for you to tell me the same shit you’ve been telling me for the past month. I need to hear something new.

He looks down at his feet in embarrassment. He is ashamed for what he did. After he moved to America , everything was going well at first. Until everything started going downhill. It turned out that he owners of the company he was working in had committed a bunch of crimes , scammed people , including Sang-woo. He , then , realised how big of a mistake he had made. He had left the love of his life , the person who gave him courage and happiness just for money. He knew it wouldn’t be so easy to come back to you but he was determined to get you back.

—y/n…if I explain…will you accept me back?

sighs

—no promises.

He lets out a small chuckle. He knew that you would react like this and it’s funny how well he knows your reactions.

—alright then…

Sang-woo explains everything to you , detail by detail and you’re left stunned. That’s both stupid and sweet at the same time. You found it cute and sweet that he thought he would seem weak and wanted to provide you with more money but that fact that HE BROKE UP WITH YOU and moved away just for money was stupid asf.

—Sang-woo…

—I know. I’m a dumbass.

You chuckle.

—yes , you are. But , first of all , why did you break up with me to move to America? I have a job , I could work some extra hours to get more money and I could come with you some months later. Second of all , you’re stupid for thinking I would find you ‘weak’ for not having enough money to take me with you. Third , you’re an asshole because you put work first and then me.

Sang-woo nods. He totally agrees with what you’re saying but he’s still surprised that you’re not screaming at him.

—I’m…I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?

—well…no. Not exactly. I’m glad that you finally confessed but I will not be accepting you back. It hurts. What you did hurts a lot and I don’t think I can ever forget what you did to me.

—oh…

—I’d like you to move on. Please don’t contact me anymore. Thank you so much for everything , truly.

You say and get up. You open the door and gesture him to get out.

—goodbye , Sang-woo. I hope you find the right one.

Sang-woo , with tears in his eyes , gets up and leaves. He looks at you one more time before leaving , all the memories fading and a new chapter of both of your lives starting.

This isn’t the end. This is only the beginning of a new and better life.

———————————————————————

Idk why but I think I made y/n a lil bit pick me , so I apologise 😭

Taglist: @sensationallysangwoo

@chosangwooswife

@nanamiscsleeve

@snowgirl12

@vkeyy

@lfegoeson

[gardenwalrus]

The Beatles speaking about themselves in DISC (12 October 1963) [Paul & John section here]

[GEORGE] Our dress style has changed…  It was when I was relaxing in a Boeing jet on the way back from America last week that I realised that in many ways I was still the same George Harrison I was before The Beatles were so well known. But I also realise that in some ways my life HAS changed - mostly for the better I’m glad to say.  The most obvious change is financial. That’s very nice, but I don’t think it's the most important thing. It’s nice to be able to buy a new car and new clothes when you want them, but I was happy when I couldn’t afford these things.  One big way The Beatles generally have changed is in their style of dress. Eighteen months ago, for instance, we dressed far more casually than we do now. 

I think my social life has changed considerably as well. Now we meet far more people than we ever met before.  I mean, like, when we appear at a one-night stand we’re often invited back after the show to a nearby club. People seem to go out of their way to try and make sure we have a little fun after our work.  A question I’ve been asked quite a few times over the past 12 months is: “What do you think is the right age to get married?”  I honestly think there’s no such thing as ‘the right age.’ I think that you should get married when you decide that this is the time when you should get married. This is a decision which you can only make yourself. There’s no correct age.  In my personal tastes, I’m a bit undecided about clothes, too. I haven’t got any definite preferences. But if something I see pleases me I’ll buy it and wear it whether it’s in the French style, or Italian, or English.  One thing I really do get enthusiastic about is music. As I’ve said before in DISC, I like the coloured American groups like The Shirelles and The Miracles. But I’m fond of a lot of other music - Segovia on classical guitar, for example. 

+

[RINGO] I’m the silent type…  I’m the one the boys call the silent type. Well, I haven’t got all that much to say for myself, and I prefer to listen to other people speaking. My real name is Richard Starkey, but the Ringo bit has been with me for so long, I don’t think of myself as a ‘Richard’ anymore. Of all the Beatles, I live nearest to the city centre - about 10 minutes walk and six bus stops away. It’s not a rich part of town, but my mum has all her friends there and doesn’t want to move out.  Some of my family are just outside London. They sometimes come and visit us, and once a year my dad makes a trek down south.  I want to do things for my family, but they keep telling me to save my money. Eventually I think I’ll open a chain of hairdressing shops in and around Liverpool. I’d like my main shop to be in the centre of the city, and be THE place.  I have enough hairdressing friends to keep the shops well staffed, but feel with a haircut like mine it would be best for me to stay away from them!  I have my hair cut about once every three months! I’m joking of course. I have it trimmed when the mood takes me and have no special barber.  You don’t hear very much about me in the group, because I don’t sing. I had my big and only singing moment on ‘Boys’ for our LP, and really made the most of it.  And, surprisingly enough, although I’m a drummer I don’t have a favourite musician. Well, not a real one. I like to see good showmanship in any artist, and I hope to get a chance of seeing Brook Benton while he’s in England. It’s a stroke of luck he’ll be doing the Palladium show at the same time as us, but I’ll probably be so nervous, I won’t have time to appreciate his act.  I don’t eat very much. If I did, I’d probably have much more energy. As a kid, I was very fond of chips and jam-butty (that’s a jam sandwich), and to this day, I still like it. Even if I enjoyed it, I don’t think I’d ever get used to eating caviar or drinking champagne.  One of my ambitions in life is to learn how to play the piano. I’d willingly take lessons if only I had the time. But my main ambition is to be happy all the time.  Yet I don’t relax very much. I like to be active. Even if I have a chance to go on holiday, instead of sitting in the sun all day I’m off exploring the local neighbourhood. I think I do this because if I didn’t I’d be nothing more than just plain lazy! I very rarely go near a Chinese or Italian restaurant. Don’t like either food, and if anything has onions in it then I’m completely done for.  I’m mad for rings. I wear four, and would wear them on all my fingers if I didn’t think they’d get in the way. Often I get wrist ache from drumming too much, but the only other ailment I suffer from is occasional colds. I’m not as bad as John though. He keeps on losing his voice. Never doing a performance, but usually just after a recording session. 

[evelinesynastry]

Waldemath Lilith square ASC (h58) terrible, scary. girls have had intense reactions to me since primary school, carrying hatred, wanting to destroy me. I was bullied a lot in primary school, from the third grade onwards girls would take my things and break them. always been left out. never invited to birthday parties all the girls were invited except me. they hated me from the bottom of their hearts. I had to change schools, and at the next school the same thing happened again, the girls hated me, and I was never invited again. but I wanted so much to be friends with a girl, and she also with me, but that didn't go well either, I was immediately placed on the dark side, like someone who steals, she blamed me for example on her birthday that I had stolen her money and beat me up. the female teachers also hated me, for example they put me in front of the class and everyone had permission to say bad things about me. Did I have an opinion? I was threatened with a lighter by the group above. if a girl wore something like makeup it was okay? but if i did i was instantly a whore. the girls came around me and all started making a drama about it, "you do it for the attention" at school the boys, they hated me but at the same time they kept touching my body. In high school it all got 100x worse, for example a boy punched me in the face when I pushed him away when he wanted to touch me. a picture of me was being thrown around the whole school that had been tweeted by a girl. boys come to me with money asking for permission to use my body. I was called a whore, a slut, a stripper by the boys. a female friend of mine tried to use me for another boy for sex. I was beaten up by girls, from kicking me to dragging me along the ground. Boys calling me a ‘bitch’ but another time trying to hit on me. i was cleaning so i had to bend over so a guy said "she likes blowjobs" also I don’t go to school anymore since all this shit happens, I’m now in a daycare group, but still attracting a lot of hate from woman and slutshaming, and boys sexualising me or trying to touch me.

I know that Waldemath Lilith is the darkest Lilith. It’s not talked about, but Lilith stays Lilith, Waldemath Lilith is the darkest Lilith. I think it gives someone raw dark sexual energy, but in the most darkest way that people can’t handle it. And hate you for it. And the fact that I hide it, but people just feel it, or see it from your raw appearance, aura.

Since it’s not only that I’ve been extremely sexualised even SA by my brother too, and abused. And when I get a dress, he says like ‘your a who’re’. Also my mother slutshame me extremely. Like my first crush, I had freaking my first crush she was like ‘your a taxi’

Let me know your Waldemath Lilith! and tell me about it, you don’t have to share with details, just give some key words.

A little question to those who have Lilith-Ascendant aspects (especially the hard ones):

How do people react to you when you enter a room ? Have you ever been bullied and If yes, what was the reason ? What Type of people do you tend to attract in your Life ? 🧐🤔

[yearsbecomingcool]

meet the parents | daniel markowitz

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | daniel markowitz x f!reader

synopsis | after 3 months of dating daniel finally introduces you to his parents and invites you to spend the eighth night of hanukkah with his family.

warnings | f!reader, jewish!reader, fluff.

word count | 4.4k

a/n | i wanna give a huge thank you to @kawaii1kitten for reading over this for me to make sure everything was accurate, it meant so much for someone to offer up their time like that and it was greatly appreciated. i got this request back at the end of january but have been incredibly busy since then (21st birthday, trying to get my license, new season of yellowjackets, writing a 7.6k word fic about jason from hell of a summer that you should all read…) but i did also take some time to research hanukkah for this fic. if anything is falsely represented or you think could be portrayed differently please let me know and i can fix any mistakes made! thank you so much for the request and hopefully it came out to your liking. also thank you to @joeloverture as always for reading over this and giving me input!!

taglist | @snazzynacho

You had been dating Danny for three months and somehow still hadn’t met his family, it wasn’t the most unusual thing in the world but you couldn’t help but feel a little suspicious. You would always hang out at your house, never at his. He always made an excuse about a messy room or someone working from home that day and you were beginning to feel a bit fed up with it. Today he was picking you up for a date, a trip to the movies. You heard his horn go off and ran outside, hopping into the passenger seat. You lean over and give him a quick peck, “You look cute today, scruffy, but cute.” You caress his cheek, looking at him lovingly.

He blushes, leaning into your touch like a cat. “So you don’t want me to shave?”

“Not yet…I’ll be generous and give you another week,” you tease, pinching the pale flesh of his cheek between your thumb and forefinger. He giggles and pulls away from you, he backs out of your driveway and starts to head towards the theater. 

You could save your questioning till after the movie, make it easier on both of you, but you’ve never been known to choose the easy route. You decide to come right out with it, “Why haven’t you introduced me to your family yet?”

He coughs nervously, “W-What?”

“Your family. You haven’t introduced me to them at all, you haven’t even brought me over to your house. We always just go to mine. There has to be a reason, so tell me Danny, what is it?”

His face grows hot and he swallows nervously. “I-It just hasn’t been the right time…they’re always busy. Y’know…I just…”

“You hardly talk about any of them besides your grandma, who sounds lovely by the way. But it just feels weird, if you have a bad relationship with them I’ll drop it but I’m just curious about your family. It feels like you’re hiding me from them and vice versa,” you explain.

He sighs, “My parents are just…a lot, okay? They still treat me like I’m a kid, hell my mom still has Life-360 installed on my phone.”

You giggle, “Were you a bad kid in high school or something?”

He laughs, “The furthest from it actually. I hardly went out, never went to parties, never did drugs. I was a good kid, my parents just…they’re intense and I know they care but they don’t really treat me like an adult yet. I didn’t want to scare you away or have you think I’m some Norman Bates mommy’s boy, I just want you to like me.”

“I already like you, dork. Do you think I’d be going out with you for three months if I didn’t like you? I’m certainly not dating you for your car.”

“But you could be dating me for my money,” he jokes.

“I’m practically your sugar mommy, mr. unemployed, I don’t wanna hear it.” 

“Okay…okay, I get it, you do actually like me. But are you sure you wanna meet my parents?”

“Yes! C’mon, let them get the embarrassing stage out of the way already. I’ll come over and bring them some nice wine and nod politely while they show me baby pictures and tell me embarrassing stories about you from your childhood. Doesn’t that sound nice?” You’re trying your hardest to convince him.

“It sounds better without them embarrassing me but I guess it could be worse…why don’t you come over for the final night of Hanukkah, it’s the one day this week where both my parents are off work so they won’t be super stressed or anything. We’re doing it at my grandmas so you’ll get to meet her too,” he suggests, finally giving in.

“I finally get to meet the famous Thelma Post you’ve been telling me about!” You celebrate.

“I’ve told her all about you too, she’s been asking when she can meet you.” He starts to poorly imitate his grandma, “Danny I’ll have one foot in the grave before you bring her over to see me!” You both burst into laughter at his imitation. “Don’t tell her I did that…please…”

You hold your pinky up, “Pinky promise.”

It’s the eighth day of Hanukkah and Daniel had come over to your place to help you cook, he insisted that you didn’t need to bring anything but you were determined to make a good impression. He’d been here for a few hours helping you make sufganiyot, normally his mom would make some but she was more than happy to leave that task up to you once you’d offered. You’d already made the filing the night before, letting it sit in the fridge for a few hours. Danny had been eyeing it as soon as he saw it in the fridge. Once you were done preparing the sufganiyot you’d piped some onto his finger, letting him finally have a taste. He sucks the cream off his finger and moans at the taste, “Fuck this is good. My mom is gonna have one bite of this and ask when I’m putting a ring on your finger, I swear.” 

“And what are you gonna tell her?” You tease, placing a hand on the counter and leaning against it, trying to look seductive.

“That I need an actual job before I can even think of walking into a jewelry store.” 

You roll your eyes and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him to give you a soft kiss. He looks a bit silly, wearing the apron you’d bought him when you’d gone grocery shopping the other day. It had a stupid little slogan that made you cringe on it and you knew it’d be perfect for him. When he’d arrived you held it up for him and he rolled his eyes. “For me?” He teases, holding his hand up to his mouth. You smacked him with a dish towel. 

While you went to get cleaned up and changed for the party Danny lounged on the small couch in your living room, flicking through the channels. He was grateful the SY-FY channel was still playing shitty horror movies this time of year. He’d gotten about halfway through Sharknado when you came out into the living room ready to go. You’d done natural makeup, some soft smoked out eyeliner and some lip gloss. You were dressed casual but cute, wearing a dark blue sweater and some black jeans. Danny sits up from the couch and smiles as his eyes rake over you, “You look great.”

“You’re so sweet to me, Danny. C’mere.” You outstretch your hand to him, pulling him up from the couch and into your arms to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. He grabs the wine off the counter and you grab your tray of sufganiyot and he opens the front door for you, locking it up before opening the passenger door for you. As you sit in the car on the way to his grandma's condo your knee bounces up and down, a nervous tick that you’ve had for years. Danny notices and places his hand on your thigh.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise. I should be freaking out more than you, I have no idea what  embarrassing shit they’re gonna tell you tonight!” 

“I really hope they have a whole scrapbook for me to look at. I wanna see every embarrassing school photo, your awkward prom pictures, your cute little baby pictures.”

He groans, “Your parents didn’t show me any of that for you though!”

You laugh, “Uh yeah because I told them I’d never come back home again if they did.”

“You’re mean.”

“I’m not mean…I just know how to get what I want.”

He narrows his eyes but keeps them on the road, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your hands are trembling when you get to his grandma's condo, you knew you’d be nervous you just didn’t know you’d be this nervous. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

He chuckles and parks the car, “They’ll love you. You have your shit together, you’re beautiful, you’ve helped me get my shit together I’m pretty sure that’s everything they want in a woman for me.” 

“And if they somehow don’t like me?”

“Then I’m staying with you anyway, I don’t care what they think. I know they’re gonna love you and I know for a fact that my grandma is gonna love you. Before the night is over she’ll be shoving her phone in my hand and demanding I friend you on Facebook for her.” He smiles at you like you’re the only girl he’s ever loved, he means every word he says, he’s not just trying to make you feel better.

“The only approval I need is yours and Thelmas.” He laughs at your joke and leans across the console to kiss you. He cups your face gently. When you pull away he’s smiling like a schoolboy.

Your face contorts in confusion, “What?”

“I just…” He runs his hand through his hair, “I really like you. I’m happy we’re doing this.”

You feel like a lovesick teenager, “Me too.”

Daniel goes around and opens your door, bowing his head as you step out of the car. “You’re such a nerd, you know that, right?”

He smiles at you playfully, “Are you gonna bully me in front of my parents? I don’t think they’ll like that too much. My grandma especially won’t.” 

“Well shit I can’t let Thelma down…”

“Exactly, so be nice!” He kisses your cheek and leads you to the door. He knocks quickly before wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You rest your head against his shoulder as you wait for his parents to open the door. You hear rustling and suddenly the door opens. His mom is standing there with a huge smile on her face. At first glance she doesn’t look much like him, she’s got dark brown hair cut into a neat bob and light green eyes. When she smiles that’s when you see the resemblance. Her tortoiseshell glasses pair nicely with her tan sweater and brown pants. 

“It’s so good to see you two! Come in, come in!” She exclaims, moving aside for the two of you to come in. You follow Daniel inside and kick off your shoes by the door before going into the kitchen to put your sufganiyot down on the counter. There’s already a few dishes sitting out and ready to go. Latkes with a small dish of sour cream sat next to them, fried bimuelos with honey drizzled over top, and some brisket. His mom, Gail, hugs you like she’s known you her whole life. 

“Danny has told us so much about you, I was wondering when he would finally introduce you,” she says, nudging him playfully with her elbow. He looks down at the floor bashfully.

“I guess I didn’t realize everyone was so…eager to meet.”

“Well with how you talked about her we all wanted to finally see the lovely girl. How are you?” His father, Alan, comes up behind Danny and outstretches his hand to you. You shake his hand and smile politely. 

“I’m great, Danny takes the best care of me. You’ve raised a wonderful son.”

Daniel looks down blushing again, he does this every time you praise him. It’s something he’ll never get used to. 

You take a second to look around the room, her kitchen reminds you so much of your grandma’s house. The only word you can think of for it is cozy. She has an array of plants all over the kitchen, some are sat on the windowsill above the sink. A few of the bigger ones sit on a white metal shelf populated by some cutesy glassware and a couple cookbooks. You feel right at home. You grab the wine from Daniel and present it to his parents, “I wasn’t sure what kind you would like so I hope this is okay.”

They take the bottle and inspect it, “It’s perfect.”

His parents thank you and bring you into the small tv nook where Thelma is sitting comfortably on the family's couch. You marvel at the collection of books she’s collected over her lifetime. They sit cozily on her built-in shelves, a modest CRT TV sits at the center. On each side of the couch sits more bookshelves. You can imagine yourself curled up on her orange and white pinstripe couch spending your days working through her collection.  “Grandma, there’s someone I’d like for you to meet.” She turns and smiles as she sees you. She’s quick to get to her feet, walking towards you happily. “Oh honey! Finally! I thought we’d never get to meet at this rate, ah, look at you! Danny you’ve always had good taste but she’s got to be my favorite! Oh just look at her, Danny you make such a cute couple.” Now it’s your turn to blush as Thelma gushes over you. She holds your hands in hers and smiles at you warmly.

“You’re too kind…Danny has said so much about you. I think he’s been hiding me away so I don’t become your new best friend,” you joke, helping Daniel lead her to the front of the house. The house is set up a bit strangely, her main living room is quite spacious, and a bar sits behind one of the floral couches. It’s unused, now displaying various family photos. There’s even more books on more beautiful shelves, you wonder if she’s read them all.

Thelma playfully swats at Daniel's arm, “Have you been hiding her? I always could do with more friends. You know that, Danny.” You admire their menorah as it sits on a white tray on a small table in front of the window, it’s a beautiful gold color, made of brass. It was his parents' wedding gift. A blue table runner sits beneath it.

He giggles, “Can you blame me for wanting to keep her to myself?” The three of you stand together, his parents on either side. 

You watch as his father loads the candles, their matchbook sits on the tray next to the menorah. You watch as his father strikes the match and lights the shamash and begins to recite the blessings. “Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah. Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, she’asah nisim l’avoteinu, b’yamim haheim bazman hazeh.” Once he’s finished reciting the blessings he lights each candle from left to right and puts the shamash at its place in the center. It makes you think of past Hanukkah celebrations you’d spent with your family, it’s the first year you’re not spending it with them. You have a feeling you can convince Daniel to come to yours next year.

You all head to the kitchen and grab a plate and start to grab your food, you load your plate up happily.

Daniel pours you each a glass of wine, Thelma has water instead. The table is small which makes things a bit cramped but you make it work, you and Daniel sitting close enough that your elbows knock occasionally.

“Was your family alright with you missing out on celebrating with them this year?” Thelma asks as she sips from her glass.

“They understood, they’d like Danny to come to ours next year for a night. They really loved him when they met him.” Daniel squeezes your hand softly.

“Oh of course! Maybe we could all get together next year, have a little party!” She suggests.

“That sounds perfect. I’m sure they’d love to.” 

As you begin to dig into your food you look over at Gail with a sly smirk. “So…what was Danny like as a kid?”Daniel chokes on his wine, his eyes going wide. He didn’t expect you to start asking about this as soon as dinner started.

Gail smiles knowingly at Daniel, she knows just how badly she’s about to embarrass him and she’s going to cherish this moment for as long as it lasts. “Oh he was just precious. Such a sweet smiley little boy,” she takes a sip of her wine, “but he was so shy. I remember on his first day of Kindergarten he was so scared, he wouldn’t let go of my leg. Poor thing…”

“Aww Danny…I was a shy kid too. Maybe not that shy but it took me a while to grow out of it. I remember sitting at a table with a group of other shy kids in English class and we were all supposed to do some project together and I had to pull myself out of my shell for it because none of them wanted to,” you laugh.

“That sounds like Danny. Y’know there was this shy boy in his class when he was younger,” she turns to face Daniel, “Wendy Horowitz’ son, do you remember him?”

Daniel nods. He has no clue who she’s talking about.

“Anyway, he got hooked on Don Julio and he’s been in and out of rehabs ever since. Always made me worried for Danny, you never know what the quiet ones are doing…”

“Well I don’t drink much, I’ll have one if I go out somewhere nice for dinner, but I’m usually the designated driver. Danny doesn’t really have much when we go out either.”

Gail rubs Daniel on the shoulder, “Oh you’re cutting back on the drinking? Good, see Alan she’s already a good influence, only 3 months in!”

Alan smiles, “You did get him to throw out that ratty old cardigan too.”

“There were too many holes for it to be considered wearable at that point. I bought him a nice new one to replace it.”

Daniel blushes, “The new one is softer…”

“He’s always worn his clothes till they were falling apart…I’d always fix them up so he could wear his favorites a bit longer,” Thelma says.

Daniel looks at her with nothing but love in his eyes and smiles,”And thank you for that. You’re why most of my favorite sweaters are still around.” 

Gail chuckles, a memory surfacing. “Do you remember that phase you had where you would only wear your Spider-Man costume? You were like what…six? You wore it everywhere! I remember you even demanded you wear it to school under your clothes.” Daniel's face turns bright red as the rest of you giggle.

“I uh, I think I do remember that,” he scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“That’s cute. I think I did the same with some princess dress my mom had got me.” As fun as it is to watch him squirm with embarrassment you still don’t want him to get too embarrassed. 

The rest of dinner is spent with Gail telling childhood stories about Daniel, most are just cute instead of embarrassing but once dinner is wrapped up is when the embarrassment really starts. Thelma is quick to lead you to her array of childhood photos of Daniel she has on display. You pick up each one, inspecting them closely as he looms over your shoulder, face bright red with embarrassment. “Do you really have to show her the middle school ones? Those are just…they’re bad…” He groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh but Danny you were so cute! Wasn’t he?” Thelma asks, turning towards you.

You giggle and smile, “The cutest.”

“See! Not embarrassing!” 

Daniel groans and puts his hands over your eyes, he leans down to whisper in your ear, “I think you’ve seen enough.” It’s playful and cute. You giggle and lean back against him.

“I think I wanna see more actually-”

He’s quick to cover your mouth with one of his hands, “She doesn’t know what she’s saying. That wine must’ve been strong, right baby?” He moves his hand from your eyes to your chin, maneuvering your head to make you nod. “See? She’s all good on childhood pictures now, Grandma.”

You lick his palm and he yelps, pulling his hand away. “Don’t listen to him! Show me the worst ones!”

Thelma is doubling over in laughter at the two of you, it reminds her of when she had met her husband. “Oh I’ve got more, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” She heads over to the bookcase to start looking for her photo albums. 

Daniel leans down to whisper in your ear so softly that no one else can hear, “You’re so getting it later. You hear me?”

You giggle, “I’m sure I am, Danny…” He loves to talk a big game but hardly ever follows through. You know it’ll end in giggles and a makeout session on your couch. 

He helps Thelma bring over the photo albums, setting them down onto the coffee table before taking a seat next to you. “You better be nice to me about these.”

“Danny how bad could they be? Don’t be so dramatic, we were all dorky when we were younger.” You rub his shoulder comfortingly. You lean against his arm as he opens the first one. The first page is his mom holding him in the hospital, his tiny footprints next to the photo make you tear up a bit.

Thelma tells a small story with each photo, “He was such a smiley baby. The happiest in the family. I remember Gail called me one time to ask if it was normal for a baby to be so happy all the time,” she laughs, “she’s always been such a worrier…”

“You were adorable Danny, your smile is the same now y’know.”

He leans his head against yours, “Some things never change I guess.”

“I’m glad you’ve still got that sweet smile and all those beauty marks.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead as you continue to look through the photo albums. His face heats up with embarrassment as they reach the elementary school photos. He’s wearing silly graphic tees and missing teeth, new ones growing back into place. There’s photos of him playing video games, kindergarten and 5th grade graduations. Photos of him with childhood friends and peers, most of the names he can’t remember but he has a story for almost all of them. “He had a pet lizard! I begged my parents, and Grandma of course,” he nudges Thelma with his elbow, “for one too. But when I actually went over to his house and saw it in person it scared me so bad I never asked for another pet again!”

“What kind of lizard was it?” You ask curiously. 

“A bearded one, like that dinosaur in Jurassic Park that ate Nedry.”

Your eyes light up, “Ah! I can see why you’d be terrified now.”

He blushes bright red with embarrassment once the middle school pictures start coming up, awkward phases, bad haircuts, and plenty of embarrassing stories. It’s an awful time for everyone but it seemed particularly cringe inducing for Daniel. You and Thelma stifle laughter as he tries to defend his magician phase with his life.

“The girls were into it I swear!”

“Thelma, did you tell him that to make him feel better?” You ask, leaning forward to see her.

“I think I did…”

Daniel dramatically scoffs, feigning offense at her confession.

“Did you like try to pull a flower out from behind a girl's ear?” You joke.

His cheeks turn pink, “I-I…no…”

He’s a little less defensive over his high school photos, you can see him finding his style in every photo. He’s switched out his silly graphic tees for band t-shirts and cardigans, his cargo shorts for skinny jeans. It’s interesting to watch him figure out who he is through photos. You smile at the photos of him at concerts on his tiptoes trying to peer over the shoulders of the people in front of him. There’s ticket stubs from his favorites glued down next to the photos of him at each one. You can tell you would’ve been friends in high school, probably more considering how you ended up. He was your type to a tee. You could imagine asking him out to see whatever indie movie was playing at your local theatre, him slipping his headphones on you in a diner afterwards to show you his new favorite band. You feel a pang of sadness that you didn’t know him back then. You’re grateful to have him now. You cuddle up a bit closer to him as he gets to the final picture, it’s him on graduation day. His hair was grown out and combed back under his graduation cap. His favorite is the shot of Thelma and him together. He has his arm slung over his shoulder as he holds her close.

“Why don’t we take one of you two to add to the album?” Thelma suggests.

You smile and look at Daniel, trying to see how he feels. He’s smiling just as big as you are and he nods, getting up from the couch. “Where’s the camera?”

“It’s in my office on my desk, right by the computer,” Thelma explains. Once he’s walked off to retrieve the camera she leans close to you, taking your hand in hers. “You’re my favorite of the girls he’s ever brought over. Thank you for being so good to him…I think you’re what he needs.”

You feel tears begin to well up in your eyes, your lip quivering. You reach up to wipe your tears and nod, “I think he’s what I need to.” Thelma leans forward and hugs you tight, you pull away with Daniel comes back with the camera.

“Should I call dad to come take it?” He asks Thelma.

“Oh no, dear. This is the one technology I know how to use!” She gets up from the couch and takes the camera from Daniel, directing him to sit next to you. She continues directing the two of you, telling you how to pose. “Danny at least try to look like you love her! You’re so stiff!”

He chuckles and tries to relax, pulling you closer to him. You’re leaned against him, your head on his shoulder as he holds you close. You glance up at him for a second and hear the camera go off. “Oh, I wasn’t ready!”

Thelma smiles down at the photo, turning the camera back around for the two of you to look. It’s instantly your new favorite photo of the two of you. You’re cuddled up, gazing into each other's eyes. “I think it’s perfect, dear.”

[krfttin]

loser!vi who is in LOVE with ur tits. since you guys met she was weirdly into ur tits, at first it was just glances..not wanting to make it weird since u guys were just starting off. but when she saw ur tits for the first time she acted like it was the first pair of racks she’s ever seen, she looked like a 13 year old boy finding his dad’s playboy magazine

loser!vi who needs to be touching you at any time, laying down and watching a movie in bed? you bet her head is on ur chest, or vise versa. at the bar with some friends? yeah her hand is holding onto your slimmer, most softer one, or her hand’s on your thigh. just marking it place there.

loser!vi who gets so horny so fast it’s kind of embarrassing. you have a low cut top on that shows off ur cleavage just a liiiitle bit too much? yeah her boxers are already soaked. you guys are cuddling and your being just a little bit too touchy? well her clit was already throbbing just by ur presence

loser!vi who loves video games, especially story games. she was stuck on life is strange for a hot MINUTE, she cried at the ending of the first game but she would rather die then admit that.

loser!vi who is a loser but not a lot of people can tell, she has a good amount of friends and plays sports, she goes to the gym almost everyday and you would think she is some badass tatted up dyke. yeah no she spent half of her money on star wars funko pops just the other night.

loser!vi who absolutely goes batshit crazy when you bring up one of her interests, or anyone perhaps. she can go on and on and on about the walking dead (game and show) and she can tell you anything about boxing and its history,

loser!vi who works at a boxing gym and helps young kids and women work on their self esteem and defense skills. she absolutely loves working there. one time you tagged along at her work and absolutely melted at seeing her help a little girl in her boxing stance. oh geez.

loser!vi who loves reading, she does. she can spend hours at barns and nobles just looking for books, she learns a lot from them (and has read a bunch of the star wars franchise. nd of course watched the movies)

loser!vi who also loves documentaries, true crime, sports, cooking (yeah homegirl CAN cook) netflix is like her life.

loser!vi who loves cooking, she will be laying in bed with you and randomly think about some sort of concoction she can cook up (no pun intended) then run to the kitchen to go make it. and even though it’s a little weird it is always so bomb

loser!vi who loves getting you gifts, saw something at the mall you like? yeah she’s already at the cash register and swiping her card. and she has also bought your shein cart numerous times (always leaving her broke but she loves seeing ur smile)

loser!vi who isn’t really super possessive but she doesn’t take kindly to people looking at what’s hers. she can fuck a bitch up (clearly) there has been a few times where she had to teach a few men who were looking a bit to hard (of course without you around)

loser!vi who loves sleeping on your chest, specially on ur tits. she HAS to have her face smushed between ur cleavage to actually be comfortable and fall asleep. on night you had gotten mad at her about some silly argument and wouldn’t let her rest her face between your tits. “babe, cmon you literally can’t do this to me. this is torture” after her begging and whining like a child of course you finally gave in, like always.

loser!vi who knows she is attractive, and does have a few girls come up to her and ask for her number in public, she always declines. all she wants is you and you only. she even walks around with a picture of you in her wallet. awhhh what a dork

loser!vi who loves when u trace her tattoos, its so cute and she absolutely loves it. sometimes she ask you to trace her tattoos since it tickles her in such a good way

loser!vi who freaks out when you wear a skirt, especially mini skirts. oh my fuck she goes crazy. she can’t help but stare at ur ass when you walk in front of her, catching just a glimpse of your cute little pink cotten panties, and it gets her GOINGGGG

loser!vi who has the most craziest strap game ever, homegirl has the stamina of a fucking cheetah. but can also be the whiniest little sub ever. (she asks for head almost 3 times a week)

loser!vi who loves you so so so much and can’t believe you actually ended up with her. and truly believes you are the one she’s gonna marry and start a family with (she has been browsing for wedding rings lately without you knowing)

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

a/n- made this at like 4am again I am so tired. lowercase intended, got a little bit caught up and if u see any typos no you didn’t. changed my user btw (previously crochetspanners), kay love yall goodnight

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Jihyo as a Girlfriend

Disclaimer: No facts, all alleged, this is my interpretation of the cards.

I like to get to her next as she seems to be someone who is perpetually in a relationship, and I like to know how she is as a girlfriend. So, I will do four sections. The first one will be their light traits. The second will be their shadow traits. Third part I will go into their sexual energy as a partner. The last will be any final messages or anything else I can get and also any improvements they can make.

Light traits as a girlfriend:

I see her as someone who is very resilient and can endure a lot in a relationship. She will stick with the person through thick and thin. She can be the type to give in when need be. I think she can be someone who trust her partner completely. She seems like the type that lets her partner take the lead and possibly pull the strings, so men may like that about her.

She has very mothering energy. I can see her being a Mother. She is very kind and nurturing. She has a creative energy or she is a creative force for her partner. I can see her tending to her partner and giving him all that he needs. Also, doing a lot of things for him. She gives me the energy of someone who can be a stay at home Mom. Not sure how she would work around that with her career, but this may be when she settles down and gets Married.

She is very charming and appealing. She will seem to do a lot of things to get the attention of her partner. Doing cute gestures, giving them things, surprising them on occasion, sneaking up on them, like maybe showing up out of nowhere where they are at, or at work. It is like she enjoys pleasing her partner.

Although she is traditional and tends to her partners need. There is a part of her that likes to make her own money and make her own way around the world, which seems contradiction to the first couple of cards I got. But I do see her wanting to make her own money.

She is very strong in her opinion, so if she believes in something. It is hard for her partner to change her opinion. She is someone who believes in her thoughts and opinions and will voice her discontent when she feels that way. I see her being able to stand strong in her feminine power, when need be, so that is good to see. I was feeling she may be a doormat for her partner, but the last two cards show she does have her own independent side as well.

Shadow traits as a girlfriend:

Yikes, don't want to see the Bully card in shadow, so there could be a tendency to be downright mean, she could possibly get physical and be verbally abusive, not saying she does that in real life, but the energy is there. I can see her having fits of anger and not being able to control herself. Like I can just see her pushing her partner over and over again out of frustration. It can be really hard for her to temper her emotions.

It seems it can be hard for her to pick a side, so if her partner wants her to choose him over a friend or what the company may want. She may not choose him or would try to make both parties happy, so that could lead to problems.

It can be hard for her to be vulnerable and soft. She shows a hard exterior and does not like to show signs of weakness. That sounds like Aquarius energy, so makes sense. Their energy really hates to show any signs of weakness and flaws to others, so she will showcase that in relationships. She wants to show that she can do it all. She is someone who will constantly need to improve and will always have a mountain to climb, so she may struggle to be satisfied with things all the time.

She kind of has this energy of wanting to be the hero and rescuer all the time. She will kind of coddle her partner and would not want them to make mistakes and can be a bit overbearing. She has this incessant need to feel and be needed by her partner. She will also nag a lot.

She seems very controlling and demanding. Will need to know her partners where abouts all the time, may need constant interaction with him. She is a bit needy, but more so she needs to kind of have her partner under her thumb and control. She also struggles to be playful and spontaneous. She may need to have a plan for everything. If things do not go to plan. Her partner will hear about it.

So, the first card in the light traits made no sense to me with the rest of the spread, like she wants to give in to her partner and have them take the lead, but she isn't giving me other signs that she does that. So, I think I got it, she may want a man to take the lead and figure things out, but she may struggle to find a guy that is like that and may nag him when he isn't that take charge guy that she wants. It is giving me, do better, you are the man vibe. I will go with that. She could have high standards as well.

Sexual energy:

Okay, she can be a little more adventurous and open-minded when it comes to sex and does try to explore new things. I say she can be a bit honest, brash and self-righteous when it comes to sex. She seems to have an independent nature to her and need to maybe seek her own pleasure. Not sure she thinks too much of her partner's needs. I keep hearing she can be belittling, so that could be something to. With this 1st house energy. She is kind of about herself and her image when it comes to sex, but it is also a way of expression for her. Maybe this is the one time she can be free from limitations.

Lol this next card has self-care on it, she really seems to be about her needs and feeling comfort, so she will do whatever it takes for her to be secure and comfortable. Not sure she cares too much how her partner feels. Now, with this Devil card, hmm, interesting card, this has to do with constraints, limitations or her strong desire to control even in the bedroom. This card can give me someone into bondage and BDSM stuff. She seems to have a lot of ideas of what to do and what to bring into the bedroom as well. It is like she shares; she wants to do this or that. Not sure how far these ideas go, as this is an ace card. And not sure how comfortable the guy is with it to be honest, maybe that is why it doesn't go through.

Interesting didn't expect this energy from the first sexual energy reading I did for her and the group lol I think that 4 of Cups was just her being bored of men in bed and that they don't particularly satisfy her needs and desires lol She needs men who are more experimental that is what I am getting.

Final messages/improvements:

And the Devil card pops up again, she may need to work on this need to control the relationship and her person. She may need to work on letting go and having fun. To maybe not treat her man as a child could be a start. She also has this need for codependency or her partner to need her. She needs to allow her partner freedom and say in the relationship and to work as a team and not be too attached to one another.

She should consistently put effort into the relationship. Stay grounded and stable. And to allow things to progress slowly, but also to learn to build trust in the relationship. She may need to work on not trying to manipulate everything. To use her skills and talents in a good way, rather than to manipulate her partner. Weird message, but not sure she does magic or voodoo herself to keep these men in line or bring them to her life, but that can be a thing to. She should use her magical toolset for good, rather than manipulation.

Okay, that was kind of wild, glad I decided to go with her next. This was fun.

[wvffles]

ohhhhhhhhh goshhh 😩 the anticipation continuessss

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.” “She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

the fact that this is how he sees their story, yet he's still chosen to be a dirty lying no good scoundrel really grinds my gears. like he needed to forget his name? I could smack him with a frying pan rapunzel style for the same effect lol

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

my immediate thought was well try harder 😭 and i did feel bad for a second, then I finished the chapter…i stand by my statement 😅

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

so real lmaoo

her inner conflict tugged at my heartstrings, i'm just glad she's giving herself some grace at least <3 it’s a difficult situation all around

the flowers!!! 😩 oh dean :( and michael is truly a classic douche like sir you cannot just magically make it better with some flowers and dinner 🙂‍↔️🤚🏽

Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

i would get so violent are you kiddingg meeeee

it’s bad enough he’s sleeping with a floozy on the regular but to take his wife’s money as well to fund that is actually beyond ballsy and insane. i hate them, justice for my girl fr 🫶🏽:(

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

ngl I had to put my phone down for a moment and yell into a pillow because dean, what the hell man 😩

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

oh dean, getting stabbed would’ve probably hurt less

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

mine’s breaking too dean 😔 i’m just glad he’s trying to ‘fix it’ somewhat immediately instead of just letting her leave like that.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

yeah my heart is definitely broken 🥺 i’m glad they didn’t end things off with hostility and got to have that bittersweet moment at least 😔

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

oh they’d work on me for sure 😭

Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

…

Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

my heart aches, this chapter was so sad 😩 (not in a bad way!!🫶🏽) I feel for all three of them 😔🤍

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

ahhhhhh the cliffhanger! i’m guessing he found something illegal and/or dangerous 🤔 the preview is making me anxiousss, he better not hurt her! 😩

this was a wonderful chapter, very excited to see the drama unfold!!💗💗

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

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Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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