#getting called names at home is Enough already

[takes1]

Heyy can you pls write an Ushijima smut?? Plsss, also I love all your works🫶🏼🫶🏼

ushijima x reader escalated cockwarming

thanks pookie!! sorry this took a while, i wrote half of something else for him but that idea died so i had to start all the way over. also wanted to do a normal banner for him but i'm liking my new multi-panel banners a lot more. might do a full switch🤔

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / cold start / ushijima likes old movies / sweaty ushijima / dom!ushijima / calling you babygirl / doggy / lap sitting / use of vibrator / gentleman ushijima / reader making ushijima want a kid / breeding kink / 1.2k words

links. masterlist. more haikyuu here. my ao3. my imagines

"Shh," He smushes his lips against your ear, stealing a tingly kiss or two while he's there, "Can't hear the movie..."

It was loud and overwhelming, leaving you to squirm away at the sensation. But his giant arm kept you crushed back against his chest.

It's a Wonderful Life played on an intentionally low volume on the living room TV. Your His vibrator, torturing your sensitive little clit, was louder than the dull drone of their transatlantic voices.

You took a sharp breath in to let out a cry, but his palm intercepted the attempt.

Watching favorite movie, engaged in his favorite pastime, inside of his favorite girl- he gave an approving hum into a harsh nick to your shoulder and rolled his hips.

His cock stirred again and bulged against your g-spot. He was prepared this time for the flinch. He kept you still with laughable ease.

It wasn't so much about strict punishment or absolute reward when he had such a natural, domineering presence in the bedroom. It was trust that kept you from begging him to just fuck you. There was an understanding that he would take care of you, no matter what you level of play you engaged in, for however long.

You did what he told you with a smile, enjoying how he took all your worries away, how he could bear the weight of the world off of your shoulders with his touch, his attention.

The warmth of his arms around you, his hand covering your loud mouth, kept you docile for a time.

He always smelled so good after he came home. Tasted salty, like hard work, with a stimulating, natural musk to his skin that you couldn't get enough of.

"Whadd'yawant, babygirl?" He flexed inside you again, taking his palm to your throat, instead- a heavy sigh the only indication that it effected him, "Tell me."

Your thighs flexed on top of his larger, powerful ones- "Ahh-! To- watch the- movie?"

His chuckle, rare and genuine, made you smile.

Hell, you had been sitting on top of him for so long that the film was almost over. Your response, an unsure question at best, was silly.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and moved his hips real, real slow, "You sure?"

Another gasp. This time curling your weight forward, for him to resist against. He felt so good, if he could just keep this mellow movement for two minutes, you might cum-- you couldn't lie again.

"N-o."

He bottomed out, leaving you twitchy, a shudder on your uptake, "Please, Toshi, just fuck me-,"

You whimpered at his strengthening grip, his stalled breath at his own name, "I don't care how- I just- mmh- I want you."

Usually, he didn't tease you like that because he already knew what you wanted. Usually, he didn't come home so burnt out and touchy, placing you in his lap, pushing your panties to the side.

Usually, he wouldn't be so inspired as to get you on the cold, hardwood floor, to take you like you asked.

He let you have one hand for your vibrator, but made sure to keep your free wrist still, next to the side of your head.

"Such a good girl--," Was a strangled groan.

The lewd sound of him finally pounding you mixed with your overstimulated, grateful cries.

Sure, he had been purposefully edging you for the better half of a Christmas classic, but he wasn't exempt either. Staying mostly hard inside of you was difficult when he needed to take you all day- made more critical of a task as soon as he was home, melting at your scent, your touch.

"Mmh-ha-Ah-! Tosh-i-, I'm--," You sniffled, eyes burning.

He came to the sound of you screaming his name and clenching around his sore cock.

He didn't slow or soften. He kept your hips upright when your strength failed you, always your big, sweet gentleman.

Grumbly, and quiet, and uneven, was his voice as he finally stuttered to a stop, deep inside of you.

Wakatoshi wasn't very vocal, but his habits spoke for what he liked.

You were panting, still smushed against the floor, in the lesser waves of your orgasm, as he looked down and stared hard at all the cum he crammed inside of you. His brow twitched, but you couldn't see.

Your pussy was already letting some of it drip down your thighs, so despite the how sore he was, he stuffed himself balls deep with an overstimulated groan. The desire to do it was more of a biological trance.

"M-mmnh-!" Your body braced against the feeling.

He shushed you and weighed you down into a lazier prone-bone position. The floor was so cold you couldn't help but press back into him as much as you could.

It hurt him to move, but he didn't want to soften, didn't want to waste time not filling you up again.

"Augh-h, fu-ck," His pained vocalizations were hot and tingly across your shoulder, "So- so good, baby. F-uck..."

Knowing, more specifically hearing how good you felt was a big reason why you gave a spontaneous round two the chance it deserved.

His exhaustion from the day was seeping into everything.

The huffing, the groans, vibrated against your ear as he dropped like a box of concrete to his forearms, adding to a mixture of pain and pleasure he had slowly succumbed to.

"Ah-h, fu-c'-- your pussy feels so'good, h-mnn,"

"You- ahh- want more? Huh?"

Your face warmed at his sinful confessions. His sloppy thrusts, paired with his drunken, blunt stammer fucked you into a pleasant buzz all over again.

You were so full, but, yeah, you did want more.

His forearms hugged around your front, his chest pushed down onto you, and his hand cupped your throat again.

"Mmh--!" You went to say something, but his other hand was over your mouth- so all you could do was whine, maybe drool, against his palm.

He was breathy at how fast you could get him to the edge of his orgasm again, just by taking his cock like his perfect, pretty girl.

Why hadn't he bought you a ring yet?

"Oh-h, fuck--," He got rougher, faster, at the thought of you as his little housewife, a brief flash of your future together enough to clip him over.

Another groan, this time a little whinier, into your scalp as he fucked another load into your poor, throbbing cunt.

His breath had gotten so shaky, uneven, and he grew heavier on top of you.

You were completely gone, trembling and weak, hips sinking further from him.

Warm, gentle kisses and a softer, attentive touch flooded your senses, something to focus on, as you slowly came out of it.

That was one of the many things you loved about him. He took care of you quite well, especially after being so rough.

"You okay, babygirl?"

The first thing he made sure to do was pick up you off of the floor. He utilized a cute little bridal-style carry into the bathroom so that you could shower together.

"Mmmhm," Dreamy and soft, was all you could give him.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

SOULMATE SOAP HAS MY HEART. I DONT THINK THERES ANYTHING I WOULDNT DO FOR HIM

67 / 2.8k / soap soulmate au, epilogue

...

"Anything, you say?" Soap's eyes sparkle. "A dangerous proposal, hen."

You roll your eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you said." He grins at you as he towels himself off. "I’m wonderin' what exactly I could get away with, bein' offered anything. No limits, no boundaries..."

You can't help but let your gaze trail down his form. He's totally naked and still dripping wet. "Anything within reason."

"Where's the fun in bein’ reasonable?"

You lean back, pulling your feet up and crossing your legs atop the low hotel coffee table where you're seated.

You and Soap have been getting to know each other here—intimately, as soulmates and people—for the past two days. You don't live near Glasgow and wouldn't tell Soap where exactly you call home, so he offered to get the two of you a hotel suite near the mountains while the higher-ups figure out what to do with you.

You figured he'd offer to take you out on a date or something, but so far you haven't made it out of the hotel room yet. It's more like a honeymoon than a vacation. You can't say you're disappointed with all the things he's shown you, though.

"Oh, so it hasn't been fun for you yet?"

Soap laughs at that and throws the towel to the carpet. No point in modesty. You’ve seen and touched every scar and bruise on his powerful body, but it does nothing to deter your gaze.

"Been plenty fun. But now I know I could be gettin’ away with even more if I play my cards right."

"Such as?"

"Marriage."

You scoff. "Pervert."

"Am I?" He leans toward you and braces his hands on the edge of the coffee table. He loves the way you try to resist looking at him but can’t help yourself. Your gaze keeps trailing down to his abs. "I think you like the idea of me down on my knees. I’ve seen you enjoyin’ the view."

Your back straightens. He's so cocky. Still, your eyes don't meet his. If anything, they dip lower. "Laswell called while you were in the shower."

"Did she?" He strolls across the space between the bathroom and the bed to his duffel bag. You lean back and watch him languidly as he digs around for his phone, his handsome mouth settling into a frown. He won’t find it. He sees why once he glances over at you to see your catlike smile.

Soap crosses his arms and looks down at you. "Resigned to petty thievery now, are we?"

You shrug and hold his phone out, letting it dangle from your fingertips like a mouse by the tail. "It's not like I have any other jobs to preoccupy my time."

He pauses to admire the view down your tank top—his tank top—and then snatches the phone away. "How many times do you want me tae beg and grovel for forgiveness? Not that you deserve it, ye wee hellion,” he mutters, scrolling through his recent calls.

"At least three more times." You lean back on your hands as he walks away. "Aren't you going to ask me what she said?"

"Are you going to tell the truth?"

"I was considering it."

"Were you?”

You sigh and watch him raise his phone to his ear. You miss when he hung on your every word.

"Go for Soap."

Soap makes a show of talking on the phone with Laswell. He tries not to glance at you too much. You and your sharp pout and the black tank top you’re wearing and how it rides up on your hips and leaves nothing to the imagination. He’ll have to do something about that later.

"Aye. Understood." A slow grin stretches across his face. "Now that is good news. Pleased to be workin' with ya, Laswell."

He hangs up. You cross your arms. "Well?"

Soap tosses his phone on the bed and turns back to you. "Ought to chew you out for answering a call on a secure line."

"Kate already did."

"Did she, now? And you’re on a first-name basis?" Now he is amused. "Don't think I'm not keeping track of every little rule you’ve broken so far. You’re in enough trouble as it is."

You bounce your leg against the tabletop. "What did she say?"

Soap closes the space between you. In the time it takes him to reach you, you stand up, bare feet on the low table. It puts you barely above eye level with him.

"She didn't tell you the news, then, did she?" His lips twist into a smug smirk. "Serves you right."

You stare him down. You don't often get the chance to, so you capitalize on it for all you're worth. "She did," you lie.

"You’re lying, darlin’."

"How would you know?"

"You'd be right pissed off already, for one." He wraps his hands around the backs of your bare thighs idly. His thumbs brush the underside of your ass. "For two, I know better than to take you at your word. Might as well start assuming the opposite of what you decide to tell me."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your soulmate."

"You’ve never been nice to me in your life." He pulls you closer, making your legs part so he can hike his thigh up between them, his foot flat on the table between yours. He grins at you. "I seem to recall you threatenin' me that first night we met."

You push against his chest to steady yourself. "I was trying to protect your dumb ass. You were going to get yourself killed."

Soap’s hand slides up to the small of your back to help you balance. "Didn't get killed, though, did I?"

"Only because I told you to hide."

"My guardian angel."

"You're lucky you got away when you did. If you compromised us, I would've gutted you."

"Vicious, vicious woman."

"Stubborn mule of a man."

"Gorgeous, disobedient pain in my ass." Soap takes your chin in his fingers and lifts it, drifting closer to your lips as if drawn in. "Not tae mention ornery."

"You're ornery."

"Now, that's hurtful. You ought to give me some sympathy."

"Give me one good reason why."

His hands slide up to cup your ass. "Because I’m your soulmate, and I’m entitled to a little sympathy for the fact that your brazen attitude makes me crazy."

You rub at his collarbone. "If you're my soulmate, it follows that you deserve it."

Christ, he loves when you say shit like that. He leans in to mouth the underside of your jaw and murmur directly against your ear. "You know what I deserve? And you’re gonna give it to me?"

You tilt your head up. His lips slide further down your neck. You preen. "Someone has to."

He lets out a dark huff of laughter at the response. You’re all too eager to push back at him, and nothing gets him hard faster than a challenge.

Just as he latches onto your neck and begins marking you with a new hickey, you push him backward onto the hotel bed. Soap laughs as he lets himself fall. Then he sits up on his elbows and leers at you. His hair is already mussed and his breathing already heavier than normal.

You climb over him, plant your palms on his shoulders, and press him down into the comforter. Right as you stoop down to catch his bottom lip in your teeth, though, you look down at him from above and frown. "Wait, but what did Laswell say?"

Soap pauses. “Now?”

"Yes." You can’t stand not knowing. "Tell me."

Soap grabs two handfuls of your ass and squeezes in annoyance. Ruin the mood, then. "She said she heard back from the program." The program meant to protect the soulmates of military operators and other agents who could be compromised by the existance—or any knowledge whatsoever—of a soulbond. Like witness protection.

You suck in an annoyed breath. "Are you really gonna lock me up in some safehouse?"

“I’d love to—chain you up, put you in a cage, keep you somewhere all safe and sound so nobody else can touch you.” Soap watches you with an off-kilter gleam in his eyes. His words draw an image in your mind that isn’t remotely unpleasant. “But it won't be with the program, no. They denied the request."

You perk up. "Really?"

Soap grins at how excited you get. “Aye. Said your old job makes you a security risk. Too hot to handle.” He lets out a huff as his hand slides up your bare thigh. “But don't get too excited. Laswell found another opening. Or… made one. Something in her sector."

You sit back in surprise. "CIA?"

"Aye. Turns out your impressive track record of selling violence for money makes you a font of useful intel. " Soap watches you, gauging your reaction. "Couldn’t let that go to waste, now, could they?"

You glare down at him. "What's the catch?"

Soap can see the wheels turning in your mind. He grins. "Oh, hardly a thing."

Your hands tighten on his shoulders in warning. "Johnny."

He grins up at you, all teeth and confidence. He loves the way you say his name. “You should go into intelligence. You’d be a hell of an interrogator. You’d get me to tell you anything and never even bat those pretty eyelashes at me."

"John, I swear to God."

He laughs as he sits up on his elbows, his free hand running up your leg to wrap around your hip. "Alright, alright. Pushy." This is almost how he wanted you: straddling him on the bed, hips pressed together. "You're the perfect hire because you come attached to your own soldier, aye? Package deal. Someone to keep an eye on you."

"What, like a handler?"

"Somethin' like that," he muses, tracing his finger along your spine.

You give him a doubtful look. There's no way Laswell would stoop so low. But seeing the shit-eating grin on his face gives you a sinking feeling. "I'm an asset?"

"Course not. An asset would've defected of their own free will. And since you runnin’ away with me is still off the record as of yet…"

Still perched across his hips, you cross your arms. "And what if I say no?"

Soap narrows his eyes.

The world flips. You're on your back, pinned underneath him against the bed. He presses your wrists against the comforter. "Then you'd be a hostage."

You pull at his grip, but it does no good. "You can’t do that."

"I can."

"Says who?"

He leans close. "Says your new handler." He lets the word sink in, lets it make your mind race with indignant heat. That's how he likes you best. His lips trail along the side of your neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there in a way that makes you arch up. "Talk or don't. Either way, I'll have a convenient excuse to keep you locked up tight."

Naturally. He lets the truth slip out so easily. Likely because he never intended to give you much of a choice. He's learned his lesson and knows very well not to trust you to stay in one place anymore. If he wants to keep you around, he needs to play dirty. Like you.

He trusts you with his life, yes, but not with your own. And certainly not with his heart.

You scoff. But instead of resisting, you relax your body and let him have his way. "Fine. If it makes no difference, do your job. You know what that is, right? Extract my intel."

He pauses with his mouth against your neck. You’re giving in already. He isn’t used to that.

He shifts his hands to thread your fingers together and pin them higher over your head. He lets his mouth brush your neck as he speaks. "I intend to."

"Go on, then. Let’s see a real interrogation. Nothing like that silly warehouse you had me in before."

Soap’s face falls into a scowl. Cheeky. "That wasn't an interrogation, hen. That was a rescue." He settles one muscular leg back between your thighs. "Bloody eager to test my patience. And for what?"

"Mm."

He lets his knee nudge up against your core and grind against it, skin to skin. "You want a fight?" His voice softens, barely. "You want control?"

You think about it. But ultimately, you let your eyes close and relax your body that much more under him. "No, I trust you."

“Oh?” You’ve never said that before. Those words sound good coming from your lips. “Do ye?”

You open your eyes a fraction to narrow them at him. "Don't look too far into it."

“I’ll look as far as I please. Trust me not to hurt you, trust me not to let you leave...” He kisses you. It steals your breath again. "Trust me to give you what you need. Am I close?"

"You're trying to rile me up."

A dangerous grin slowly spreads across his face. “That's what I do best, sweetheart. So you trust me, eh?" When he gets like this—dark and heated, predatory—Soap looks more dangerous than all the weapons he’s ever used combined. A man as trained and deadly as Soap can get downright lethal when he’s playing with you. “Are you sure you should be trusting a man like me?”

"No, definitely not. Horrible idea."

He lets a laugh rumble out of his chest and his knee grinds against you again, earning himself a soft gasp. "But you’re still doing it, aren’t you? And you know what I'd do if your sweet little ass pulled another runner."

"I'm shaking in my socks."

His eyes flash with heat as he smirks down at you. He can feel your thighs clenching around his leg as he continues to grind against you. "You ought to be," he murmurs. "You know I got you. And you owe me."

"Do I?"

"Aye. For runnin' away from me, for lyin', for makin' me hunt you down. For makin' me drag your ass out of a frozen river. For makin' me think you were gonnae freeze t'death the moment I finally got you in my arms." He gives you such a heated look, you find yourself looking off at the ceiling behind him rather than holding his gaze. "And that's not even gettin' into all the stitches I got 'cause of you. You owe me for every single one."

You swallow. "Are you planning to hold that stuff over my head forever?"

If you had any idea how it felt to see you disappearing into that river, you probably wouldn’t be asking that.

"That depends on whether you plan on bein' the sort who needs to be kept in line forever," he growls. "Or whether you're gonnae let me keep you safe, darlin', always where I want ye."

Your face warms and your chest flutters. Damn it. "Fat chance," you retort as quickly as you can to cover up the butterflies.

"Forever it is, then." He lets go of your hands and reaches up to grab your chin. Soap has big hands, strong, with too many scars along his knuckles given his young age. "You’d do well to remember that every time you think about runnin’ from me.” His knee grinds up against you again, a tease and a promise all rolled into one. “Now tell me again that you trust me.”

"Nnh." You squirm. "Johnny, c'mon..."

"No, go on. Say it for me. Say you trust me. Say it out loud." He leans in closer. He's hungry again. Starving. "Let me hear it again. Sounds as pretty as you look."

You roll your hips against his knee again, seeing stars against your eyelids when his thigh muscle clenches.

His grip tightens in warning as he fights to keep control of himself. "You’re pushin’ it, hen."

"Do something about it," you murmur. You wanted bite in your voice, but it's not quite there. "Handler."

Coming from your mouth, it does funny things to his mind. His muscles coil tight with need. But then he relaxes. He has all the time in the world to do everything he wants to you. He bites down gently on your ear, earning a breathless shudder from you. His hands snake under your hips, pulling them up higher as his body slides between your legs.

"That's right. All mine."

...

the end :) thanks everyone! soap loves you <3

...

← previous part / [epilogue]

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

...

send me a prompt for more of him? :)

[fangdokja]

🔞“He says he’d do anything for you. But would you believe him?”

❤︎ Synopsis. Beneath his playful smile lies a predator in waiting—muscles honed for control, a filthy mind veiled by charm, and a dark obsession that festers with every glance you give him. You think he’s harmless, but when his restraint finally snaps, you’ll learn just how wrong you’ve been.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Best Friend x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Unspoken Desires - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,580

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, fear play, isolation, monitoring, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masturbation, hinted needle play, degradation, name calling, implied drugging

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. Actually I was trying to write wholesome, then it went to my usual writing style oop. Though, I wouldn't really say this is explicit. Seems lax for me, but that also has its own appeal.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grew up with you in a tiny village nestled deep in the heart of a high fantasy world, where magic thrummed beneath the earth like a heartbeat and gods were whispered about in the rustling of leaves. A world where war and peace ebbed and flowed like the tides, and your childhood playgrounds were forests that spoke in riddles and rivers that glowed faintly under moonlight.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who first met you when you saved his life—or maybe he saved yours. You can’t even remember anymore. But you were just kids back then, barely old enough to wield a knife, much less survive a wolf attack in the woods. He’d laughed with bloodied teeth and sparkling eyes, like almost dying was the best day of his life.

"You’re an idiot," you’d muttered as you yanked him out of the beast’s jaws, dragging him behind a tree.

"Yeah, but you saved me," he grinned through bloodied teeth, his grin wide enough to split his face.

"Only so I don’t have to explain to everyone else why I let you die."

"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was always a little too much—too fast, too loud, too bright. The kind of kid whose presence filled every corner of a room, whose schemes were impossible to ignore, and whose laugh could somehow make you feel both exhausted and alive.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was the sun, burning at a temperature that should’ve incinerated him, and you? You were the moon, distant and cold, orbiting him only because you didn’t mind the warmth.

"You’re like a puppy," you said once, watching him pace excitedly as he rattled off yet another harebrained scheme.

"Like a what?" He froze mid-step, his eyes wide with mock offense.

"A puppy. Annoying, loud, and too full of energy."

"I am not annoying!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically. "I’m charming."

"Sure you are."

"And loud? That’s just passion!"

"Passion’s another word for obnoxious, you know."

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. "Take it back!"

"No."

"You’re heartless!"

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was your partner in everything. You weren’t just two kids in a village—you were an unstoppable duo, a myth in the making. Climbing mountains to see if you could touch the clouds, sneaking into the elder’s home to steal forbidden scrolls, setting traps for monsters that only existed in bedtime stories.

"You’re going to get us caught," you whispered as he crouched beside the elder’s door, fiddling with the lock.

"Not if you keep watch," he replied, grinning like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

"Keep watch? I’m not an accomplice to your idiocy."

"Too late. You’re already here."

"By force."

"Uh-huh. And yet you’re still standing here, helping me."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "I hate you sometimes."

"Only sometimes? I must be doing something right!"

Everyone else thought he was insane, but you always followed. Not because you believed in his harebrained schemes, but because his chaos made you feel alive in a way you didn’t understand.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was terrifyingly smart in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. He didn’t just think outside the box; he dismantled it, set it on fire, and then asked why it existed in the first place. He could weave together plans and schemes that made grown adults stammer in awe—or fear.

"You’re going to blow us up one day," you deadpanned as he rigged a trap out of nothing but twigs and string.

"Not ‘blow up,’" he corrected, his hands moving deftly. "Just… scare off the bad guys."

"Bad guys? You mean the squirrels?"

"They’re shifty little things."

"You’re insane."

"And yet, you’re still standing here."

"To see how you plan to die this time."

But he was also the same boy who fell into rivers because he forgot they were slippery, or who got stuck in a tree because he didn’t think about how he’d climb back down.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, even as a child, hated the idea of losing you. He didn’t show it in ways you’d notice—he wasn’t clingy or possessive yet—but he’d always insist on being there.

"You don’t have to follow me everywhere," you grumbled one day, watching him trail behind you.

"Yeah, but what if something happens to you?" he said, grinning like it was a joke.

"Like what? Tripping on a rock?"

"You joke, but rocks are deadly."

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me."

Wherever you went, whatever you did, he was there. Even when he got mad at you, even when you got mad at him, the idea of being apart was something neither of you could bear.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, as you both grew older, turned your childhood games into full-fledged adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who always made sure you had his back, just as he had yours. It didn’t matter if you were facing bandits, cursed creatures, or labyrinths that seemed impossible to escape—he would always find a way to pull you through.

And you’d do the same for him, even when he tried to stop you. Especially when he tried to stop you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated how you always put yourself in danger for him.

Whether it was throwing yourself in front of an attack, volunteering to distract enemies so he could escape, or using the last of your strength to save him, it drove him absolutely insane.

He’d smile through gritted teeth, trying to play it off as his usual carefree self, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to argue with you more and more because of it.

At first, it was just teasing jabs—“You know, one day you’re going to get yourself killed pulling stunts like that.”

But when you kept doing it, his tone grew sharper, his words harsher. “Do you even care about your own life? Do you think I’d just let you throw yourself away like that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, despite his frustration, couldn’t stop you.

No matter how many times he argued, begged, or outright yelled at you to stop risking yourself, you always brushed him off with that infuriatingly calm logic of yours.

“If I didn’t, you’d be dead. So what’s the problem?” And every time you said it, he felt like his chest was going to explode—partly from anger, but mostly from fear.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who would never admit it, but the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He’d rather lose a limb, his powers, even his own mind, if it meant keeping you safe.

And the fact that you didn’t seem to value your life as much as he did made something dark and desperate coil in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your worst arguments, snapped. His usual charm and humor vanished, replaced by raw, unfiltered rage.

“Do you think I need your sacrifices? That I’m some helpless idiot who can’t survive without you throwing yourself in harm’s way? I’m not weak, and I don’t want to watch you die for me, do you understand that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who stormed off after that, leaving you both in silence for hours, maybe even days.

But when he came back, he wasn’t angry anymore.

His voice was calm, his smile soft, but there was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you in case you disappeared.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to take more control over your adventures after that. He’d laugh and joke like normal, but he always seemed to steer you away from the most dangerous paths, even if it meant taking longer to reach your destination.

And if you ever tried to put yourself in harm’s way again, he’d find a way to stop you—whether it was with words, tricks, or, in the most extreme cases, outright forcing you to stay behind.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who never thought he liked you as anything more than a best friend. You were his partner-in-crime, his constant, the only person who truly understood him. He couldn’t imagine his life without you, but that didn’t mean he liked you like that.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt something strange the first time you smiled at someone else like you smiled at him.

It was during one of your adventures—a random stranger you helped along the way. They cracked a joke, and for the first time, you laughed. Not your usual quiet, wry chuckle, but something brighter, something real. He grinned along with you, but inside, something cold and heavy settled in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much when others got too close to you.

You’d always been his.

Not in a romantic way—just in the way best friends were.

You were his partner, his moon, the person he trusted more than anyone.

But when someone else tried to share your attention, that bad feeling in his chest twisted into something darker.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started noticing it more and more.

The way you’d listen to someone else’s plans without questioning them, even though you always teased his. The way you didn’t hesitate to step between someone else and danger, even though you knew it would make him furious. The way your expression softened when you thought no one was watching, as if you never looked at him like that.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who told himself it was nothing, just a weird phase.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

He had no reason to be upset.

You were his best friend—you weren’t going anywhere. But the more he thought about it, the more that thought didn’t feel like enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started acting without realizing it. His smiles grew sharper when others talked to you, his words more cutting, his presence heavier. He’d laugh it off when you called him out, waving his hand like it was all a joke, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

He just couldn’t figure out why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your adventures, snapped at you for the first time in a way that wasn’t about your safety.

It was something small—someone you met on the road had complimented you, and you’d actually smiled back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he was already muttering, “You’re just going to smile at anyone now, huh? What’s next, inviting them to join us?”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who immediately regretted it when you frowned and looked away. You didn’t argue back, didn’t tease him like usual. You just stayed quiet, which somehow felt worse than anything you could’ve said.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started avoiding the subject entirely after that. He went back to his usual carefree self—laughing, joking, pulling you into more wild adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t know why he felt this way until one night, while camping under the stars, he caught himself staring at you. The way the firelight flickered across your face, the way your usually emotionless eyes softened when you stared into the flames, the way you always sat close enough for him to feel your warmth but never closer.

Something in his chest ached, and for the first time, he realized why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to ruin what you had, didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering. Wondering if anyone else could make you smile the way he did.

Wondering if anyone else could be your constant.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who isn’t stupid—he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you.

He can tell by the way you laugh around him, carefree and unguarded, like you’re sharing a joke with an older brother. By the way you roll your eyes at his antics, always more amused than annoyed.

By the way you lean on him, not like someone who’s in love, but like someone who trusts him to always be there, no matter what.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows he’s just your best friend, the person who drags you on adventures and watches your back.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But that doesn’t stop the knot in his chest from tightening every time you treat him like something so casual.

Like he’s just another part of your world, instead of your entire world, the way you are to him.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who wonders sometimes if he’s being selfish, wanting more than what you’re already giving him. You let him into your life, trusted him in a way you trusted no one else. But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who pretends it doesn’t bother him, flashing his usual grin and cracking jokes whenever you call him out for being clingy.

“Can you blame me? You’re my favorite person in the world! No one else even comes close.” But underneath the laughter, his mind is racing, twisting, plotting.

Because if you couldn’t love him the way he loved you, then he’d just have to make sure no one else could either.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts pushing the boundaries of your friendship without you even noticing.

Casual touches linger just a second too long, playful teasing takes on a sharper edge, and his protectiveness turns into something almost suffocating. If you notice, you don’t say anything—maybe because it’s easier to brush it off as just him being his usual self. But he knows better.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it’s fine.

That he can wait. That you’ll realize it eventually.

That you’ll see no one else will ever understand you the way he does, no one else will ever protect you the way he does, no one else will ever love you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grows darker, quieter, when someone else gets too close to you. The usual charm and humor are still there, but there’s something off about the way he smiles, too sharp and too cold.

He won’t say anything at first, just watching, waiting, calculating.

But if they try to take you away, to pull you out of his orbit, that’s when things start to unravel.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts isolating you without you even realizing it. He’s the only one who can keep up with you, the only one who knows how to handle your quirks and your flaws.

The only one who will never leave you. He plants the idea so carefully, so subtly, that you don’t even question it.

It’s just the way things are.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows, deep down, that you don’t love him the way he loves you.

Not yet, at least. But that’s okay.

Because he doesn’t need your love—he just needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it doesn’t matter how long it takes. Days, months, years—it’s all the same to him.

Because in the end, you’ll cave.

You’ll see that no one else could ever love you the way he does. That no one else could ever deserve you.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t even realize how far gone he was until one day, when you were bathing, he accidentally walked in.

You didn’t scream, didn’t flinch, didn’t even care.

Just stared at him with those cold, emotionless eyes of yours and calmly said, “Door’s unlocked.”

As if it was nothing.

As if the sight of your bare skin, the water sliding down your body, wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt his breath catch in his throat, his usual wit failing him for once.

He laughed it off awkwardly, muttered some excuse about needing something, and stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

But the image of you was burned into his mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated himself for it, hated how much his body reacted to you.

He wasn’t supposed to think about you like this, wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to fight it, the memory of you kept creeping back in, setting his skin on fire and making his heart race.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who found himself lying awake that night, your image replaying in his mind on an endless loop.

He could still see the way the water glistened on your skin, the way your hair clung to your shoulders, the way you looked at him so casually, so apathetically, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who you’ve always seen as a goofy, harmless puppy.

Sure, he’s tall and muscular—towering over most people effortlessly—but his easygoing attitude and boyish charm have always made him seem more like a loyal guard dog than anything remotely dangerous. You’ve never thought twice about sharing space with him, leaning on him, treating him like the oversized, overprotective best friend he appears to be.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows exactly what you think of him. He plays his part so well: the playful idiot, the one who makes you laugh when you’re down, the one who keeps you safe without asking for anything in return.

And while some parts of that are true, they’re far from the whole story. Because the truth is, underneath that sunshine grin and those puppy-dog eyes, he’s not your harmless protector. He’s something much darker, much more dangerous, and he hides it all so well.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who doesn’t just want you—he wants to own you.

Every glance, every laugh, every little touch you give him fuels something primal inside of him, something he keeps locked away beneath layers of charm and wit. Did you think his broad shoulders and ripped physique were just for show?

That all those hours spent training, honing his body, were just about looking good? No. It was for you. It’s always been for you. To keep you safe. To keep others away.

To ensure that when the time comes, no one—not even you—could stop him from taking what’s his.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who goes home after a long day with you, his head swimming with the way your body brushed against his, the way your apathetic expression softened for just a second when you cracked one of your rare, sarcastic jokes.

It’s unbearable, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest, and by the time he’s alone, he’s already burning up with the need for release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hates how much power you have over him. Hates how weak you make him feel when he’s wrapped around your little finger, playing the role of your goofy best friend when all he really wants is to pin you down and make you look at him differently—to see him not as your protector, but as something darker.

Someone who could ruin you in ways you’ve never even imagined.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who locks himself in his room, leaning back against the door with a sharp exhale, his muscles tight with tension.

The second his hand dips into his waistband, it’s like a dam breaking. He doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. His mind goes straight to you—how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how you’d look beneath him, your apathetic mask cracking under the weight of his touch.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts slow, dragging his hand lazily over his length as he pictures the way you’d squirm beneath him, trying to keep your composure. He knows you’d fight him at first—of course you would—but he also knows how easily you’d give in if he played his cards right.

How easily he could shatter your walls and make you depend on him, need him, the way he needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who whispers your name under his breath, his voice rough with desperation as his strokes grow faster, harder, more erratic.

His mind races with all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to mark you, claim you, destroy you so completely that no one else could ever have you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who bites his lip to muffle the low, guttural sounds escaping his throat, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turn white.

He pictures you underneath him, tears welling in your eyes as you try to push him away, only to melt under his touch. The thought makes his head spin, and his hips jerk up involuntarily as he chases his release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who finally spills with a choked groan, your name falling from his lips like a broken prayer. The pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave, leaving him trembling and breathless, his body taut with the intensity of it.

But as the high fades, a darker satisfaction settles over him, mixed with a burning hunger that refuses to be quenched.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who leans back against the wall, wiping a hand over his face as he catches his breath.

He feels no guilt, no shame—only a gnawing desire for more.

Because this isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.

He wants you for real, not just in the dark recesses of his mind.

———

You lay there, the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing the only thing that pierced the quiet of the night. The warmth of the small, candlelit room was comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, dark woods outside the village walls.

You were nestled in your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your dreams filled with the excitement of the adventures you and your best friend had shared throughout the years.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your form, his gaze hungry and possessive. He'd been watching you for hours, his thoughts growing darker with every passing minute.

He knew you didn't see him the way he saw you, but that was a problem that could be rectified.

He took a deep breath, his hand moving to the bulge in his pants, and whispered to himself, "Mine. You're always mine." His grip tightened as he began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your peaceful face.

The sound of his zipper was the only disturbance in the stillness, and he felt his heart pound in his chest as he grew harder at the thought of you, his untouchable moon.

"Sleep tight, fucktoy," he murmured, a twisted smile playing on his lips, "because when you wake up, you'll finally know who you truly belong to."

The tension grew palpable as his strokes grew quicker, his breathing becoming ragged and erratic. He was lost in his own twisted fantasy, imagining the way your eyes would widen in shock and fear as you awoke to find him there, invading your personal space, claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

"You think you can ignore me?" he whispered harshly, the anger and frustration in his voice barely contained.

"You think I don't notice when you laugh with others, when you let them touch you?" His hand moved faster, his teeth clenched in determination. "You're mine, and you always will be. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes roved over your body, lingering on the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the delicate line of your neck. The urge to reach out and touch you, to mark you in some way, was almost overwhelming.

But no, not yet.

The anticipation was too sweet.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress groaning slightly under his weight. The room was suffocating in its darkness, only the flickering candle on the bedside table casting dancing shadows across your peaceful face.

He could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft sound of your breaths echoing in the quiet space. It was a sound he'd become all too familiar with, a sweet melody that lulled him into a sense of security and power.

His hand moved under the covers, the fabric of his own trousers straining against his growing arousal. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his breaths even as he touched himself.

His eyes never left you, studying every curve and line of your body as if he could burn the image into his mind. You were so close, yet so far away. It was infuriating, a constant reminder of what wasn't his.

Yet.

He corrected the thought in his head with a smirk.

You were his, had always been his, even if you didn't know it yet.

He'd make sure of it.

His hand stroked faster, the wet sounds of his self-indulgence seeming too loud in the otherwise silent room. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of triumph as he watched your chest rise and fall, oblivious to the dark desires that swirled around you like a tempest.

"Bitchy cumdump," he murmured under his breath, the word a vile whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a curse.

"Rape slut." He liked those names, the way they painted a picture of you that was so much more… palatable than the cold, untouchable moon you portrayed to him.

But you could also be warm, alive, full of passion and fire, and he knew it.

He just hadn't figured out how to make you burn for him alone.

His hand stroked himself roughly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. You had your back to him, the soft curves of your body hidden beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It was almost translucent, revealing the shadowy outline of your curves, your skin so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the window.

His eyes roved over you greedily, taking in every detail, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay beneath that delicate exterior.

He reached out with his other hand, the one not busy with his own desires, and traced a line down your spine.

You shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you remained asleep. The sound of his own breath grew heavier, his strokes more frantic as he felt the heat of your body through the fabric.

"Mine," he whispered again, his voice low and guttural.

It was a promise, a vow that echoed in the quiet of the room, a declaration of war against anyone who dared to claim you.

His breath hitched as he reached the peak of his desire, his hand moving faster and faster as he thought of claiming you, making you his in every way possible.

With a low, primal growl, he came, his seed spilling onto the bed sheets.

The warmth and wetness of his release brought him back to reality, his hand slowing as he stared at the evidence of his obsession with you.

His heart raced in his chest, a heady mix of longing and satisfaction coursing through his veins. He had never felt so alive, so powerful, so… right.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still glued to your form. You hadn't stirred, hadn't woken up.

It was like you were a doll, a perfect creation made just for his amusement.

He felt a twisted sense of pride that you hadn't noticed his depravity, that his need for you was so strong it could only be expressed in the dark when you were at your most vulnerable.

But that would change.

Oh, how it would change.

As he withdraws his hand from the warmth of his climax, he was careful not to disturb you, his eyes lingering on the soft rise and fall of your chest. He reaches for a cloth beside the bed to clean up the mess he’s made, his mind racing with thoughts of what he’ll do next to claim you fully.

He’s always been the one to watch over you, the one to save you, the one who understands you better than anyone else.

But now, it’s no longer enough to just be your best friend.

He reaches under his bed, his hand brushing against the cold, rough fabric of a hidden bag.

The zipper whispers open, revealing an assortment of morally questionable items: ropes, gags, handcuffs, and a few bottles of clear liquid with handwritten labels. The scent of leather and something else—something darker—wafts out, mingling with the stale air of the room.

His breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the contents, feeling the weight of each item. They're tools of his obsession, tokens of the future he's crafting in his twisted mind.

His eyes flicker back to you, sleeping so peacefully, so utterly unaware of what's to come.

He pulls out a syringe from the bag, the cold metal glinting in the moonlight.

With practiced hands, he fills it with a pink liquid, the viscous substance swirling within the glass tube like a trapped, desperate thing.

It's a potion of his own making, something that would ensure that when the time came, you'd be too compliant to resist him.

He's not a complete monster—he doesn't want to take you by force, not yet at least.

But he knows that the path to your heart is paved with fear and obedience.

He rolls the plunger between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the liquid warm against his skin. The anticipation of using it on you makes his breath catch.

He watches you sleep, the fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body like a second skin. His eyes trace the gentle curves of your breasts and the way your hips dip before flaring out, the shadow between your thighs taunting him with what lies beneath.

The urge to claim you fully is overwhelming, but he reminds himself that patience is key.

Instead, he allows his gaze to linger, his hands straying to the syringe filled with his homemade potion—a blend of aphrodisiac and sedative that would make you pliable in his hands. He imagines pushing it into your soft flesh, watching as the liquid fills you, turning you into a vessel of his desires.

He reaches out with trembling hands, his breath shallow and ragged with anticipation. His fingertips graze the soft fabric of your nightgown, tracing the line of your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your body. You stir slightly in your sleep, but do not wake, oblivious to the violation he's about to commit. He gently parts the fabric, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He takes one of the syringes filled with his potion and holds it up to the moonlight, admiring the way the liquid shimmers. "Soon, you'll be mine," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, thick with lust and possession.

He brings the needle closer, poised at the entrance of your pussy, savoring the moment. "And no one will ever be able to take you from me."

────────────

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General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[midnightdahlias]

Sparks of the Apocalypse

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summery - you decide to go visit Bobby but are suprised by a certain stranger word count - 1.7K cws - fem!reader, pure fluff, mentions of violence (if you squint) lmk if i missed anything a/n - hope you enjoy this, sammy my beloved. I apologise for any mistakes, english isn't my first language. BUT I hope you like it either way and again any feedback is appreciated ! as are rebloggs and comments. happy reading !

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Being a hunter sucked sometimes. Scratch that, it sucked most of the time. You were always on the road, bouncing between crappy motels with peeling wallpaper and water pressure so bad you wondered why you even bothered showering. It wasn’t glamorous. But after a long day of getting tossed into walls and dodging claws or teeth, you’d sleep on the hood of your car if it came to that.

Still, there were moments. Rare ones. Like now. When you’d get a break long enough to drive to the only place that ever really felt like home. Bobby’s house.

Bobby Singer was, to put it mildly, a godsend.

Bobby had a reputation among hunters as the go-to guy. Need lore? Call Bobby. Fake supervisor for a cover story? Bobby’s your man. Need someone to vent to? Bobby would listen, grumbling all the while. Over the years, you’d grown close to him. He’d known your parents before you, and when they were busy chasing monsters, he’d looked after you. Bobby was more than just a friend, he was family. You always thought he’d have made a damn good dad. Though in many ways, he already was one.

After a particularly grueling hunt, you decided to head to Bobby’s, you needed more than a beer and a chat. Ever since the apocalypse started, it felt like every supernatural creature had lost its mind. Things were kicking into high gear, leading to longer nights and more close calls in a week than in your entire career. Oddly enough, you thrived under the pressure. Sure, the extra cuts and bruises were annoying, but it was the apocalypse, it was never going to be margaritas on a beach.

As you pulled into Bobby’s driveway, a sense of comfort and relief washed over you. The place always felt safe and welcoming, though you weren’t sure if that was because of the house itself or the man who lived there.

A black Chevrolet Impala sat parked outside, a car you didn’t recognize. Wonder who that belongs to, you thought, but you didn’t dwell on it. All you wanted was to kick your feet up and crack open a cold one.

Knocking on the door, you expected Bobby’s usual grumpy greeting, but today the door creaked open to reveal… definitely not Bobby.

Stood in the doorway was a younger man. The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was, towering over your smaller frame. His soft hazel eyes caught your attention next, followed by his sharp but delicate features and the semi-long hair brushing just below his jaw. There was no denying it, he was handsome. For a moment, you stood frozen, your words caught in your throat. “Uh, hi. Who are you?” he asked, blinking down at you like he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

You cleared your throat, trying not to stare. “Hey. Is Bobby home?” Not answering his question. ome would call it paranoia, you called it precaution but as good-looking as this stranger was, you weren’t about to share your name with someone you didn’t know.

He tilted his head, clearly debating whether or not to let you in. Before he could answer, Bobby’s familiar grumble echoed from somewhere inside.

“What’s takin’ so long? Who’s at the—oh.” Bobby wheeled into view, his grumpy expression softening when he saw you. “Well, I’ll be damned. Kid, get in here.”

You smiled, stepping inside to hug him. “Miss me?”

“Not really,” Bobby deadpanned, but you caught the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I would’ve called ahead,” you said with a smirk, “but since I never do, I figured why start now?”

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. “Smartass.’’

Behind him, the tall guy was still standing there, looking amused. And at somepoint during your greating with Bobby, a second guy had appeared. He was shorter than the other, he also had green eyes and a cocky smirk. Great, you thought. Who are these guys?

“Who’s this?” the newcomer asked.

“This,” Bobby said, gesturing to you, “is one of the best damn hunters I know. And a lot more sensible than you two idjits, I’ll tell ya that much. Sam, shut the door before we all catch pneumonia.”

Sam.

You’d heard that name tossed around a lot lately, along with his brother’s. Hunters and monsters alike seemed to have plenty to say about the Winchester brothers, especially Sam, none of it good. But standing here now, looking at Sam, he didn’t seem dangerous or evil, just tired. Hurt, even. But as your eyes caught his, there was something else there aswell, something you couldn’t quite place.

Bobby’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Sit down, kid. Beer’s in the fridge. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

“Feels like it, too,” you muttered, plopping down on the couch.

Over beers in Bobby’s living room, the four of you swapped stories. Dean was charismatic, cracking jokes as he recounted close calls from past hunts. Sam, though quieter, was kind and insightful. You caught yourself glancing at him more often than you intended, and each time, you found his eyes already on you.

When Bobby suggested ordering food, you volunteered to cook instead. It was rare to get the chance to make a proper meal, and you weren’t about to pass it up. Bobby’s kitchen wasn’t exactly stocked, so a quick trip to the store had been necessary, but you didn’t mind so much, you liked cooking, it gave you a sense of calm.

You were halfway through chopping vegetables when you heard a soft voice behind you.

“Need a hand?”

You turned to see Sam hovering in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, a small smile tugging at his lips, looking almost… shy?

“Sure,” you said, handing him a knife and some vegetables.

You worked side by side, exchanging small talk to fill the silence. Normally, you were confident around men, but something about Sam made you nervous, in a good way. A different kind of nervous than the one you’d expect to feel around someone who’d let Lucifer out of his cage. His presence was calming, his smile disarming.

When your hands brushed as he passed you the cutting board, you froze. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you like static electricity. Your breath hitched as a faint blush crept over your cheeks, but you quickly turned back to the stove, hoping to shake the feeling. What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, trying to push it all down. You weren’t usually this affected by anyone, let alone someone you’d just met.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam was just as affected. Behind you, he stood just as still, his heart thudding in his chest, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

From the moment he opened the door, he’d felt drawn to you. The way you spoke, the warmth in your laugh—it all felt oddly familiar, like you belonged here.

In the next room, Dean leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show. He nudged Bobby with a grin. Not even trying to hide his amusement.

“You seeing this?” he whispered, nodding toward the kitchen.

Bobby shot him a lookover his glass of whiskey. “They’re like a couple of deer caught in headlights,” he muttered. “Painful.”

Dean chuckled under his breath. “Think we should do something? You know, give ’em a little push?”

“Hell no,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks.

Back in the kitchen, you worked in tense silence, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel Sam’s eyes on you. Every time you glanced up, there he was, watching you with an intensity that sent another wave of warmth crawling up your neck.

Normally, being stared at like that would’ve set you on edge, but Sam’s gaze wasn’t threatening. There was something soft about it, it was sweet, and that made it so much worse.

He cleared his throat suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Uh…anything else you need help with?”

His voice was low, gentle, and it only made your heart trip over itself again. You turned to him, forcing a casual smile despite the fluttering in your chest. “Nope, I think I’ve got it from here. Thanks, though.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

It was such a small, awkward exchange, but it left you rattled. You found yourself hyperaware of every move he made, the way he leaned against the counter, the way his hair fell in his eyes when he glanced down.

And Sam? He wasn’t faring any better. The sound of your voice, the way your lips curved when you smiled, it was like you’d bewitched him without even trying. Though he wasn’t about to start complaining

In the next room, Bobby and Dean exchanged another knowing look.

“Think they’ll figure it out on their own?” Dean asked.

Bobby took a long sip of his drink before answering. “Doubt it. But watching ’em try sure is entertaining.”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

masterlist

[azrielbrainrot]

Hey! I was thinking — "being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners" or "sharing cloths in a totally friendly way" with Cassian?

I think that's a cute print for him, and I'd love to see it ❤️

I love your writing and stories by the way!! 🥰

Say the Words

Pairing: Cassian x F!Reader

Word Count: 1k

A/N: I'm not sure this is what you had in mind and it turned out a bit angsty for some reason, but I hope you enjoy! Thank you for sending this in and I'm so glad you like my stories 🩷

The frigid winter air hits your burning cheeks, breath turning to mist as you walk away from the bar, but even if it was cold enough for the streets of Velaris to be mostly empty on a friday night, it's still not enough to calm the anger swimming through your body.

You had tried to decline Mor's invitation to come out tonight, preferring to sleep off the tiring week instead of drinking and dancing it away. Ultimately your blonde haired friend had gotten her away yet again, managing to bring everyone along to Rita's for a night out. You were doing your best to enjoy it despite your initial reluctance to come, drinking and dancing with your friends like you usually did.

A very well dressed and admittedly charming male started talking to you when you went to get another drink, his intentions more than clear behind his honeyed words and saccharine smile. You had no plans of going anywhere with him, only trying to choose your words to let him down easy, he hadn't been bothering you too much after all, but Cassian had suddenly showed up at your side, wrapping his arm around you in a possessive manner, scaring the poor male away with just a few words. You think you even saw him puff up his wings. All this to drop his arm as soon as he walked away, turning to go back to your friends like nothing had happened, making your temper rise at an alarming rate and prompting you to walk straight out of the bar, uncaring of the cold or the people calling your name.

The two of you have been toying with the line between friendship and more for years, lingering eyes and meaningful touches crossing it a bit more every day. It seemed that every time you tried to cross it, he took a step back though. You've gotten somewhat used to the push and pull by now, but, maybe because of your already dull mood, it reached a breaking point today.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind you, a sigh escaping your lips. Of course he had followed you outside, he would have followed you to the end of the earth. Knowing that a confrontation would be unavoidable, you slow your pace, sitting on a bench by the river, eyes trained ahead even when he stops by the bench, watching you.

“It's too cold for you to sit here,” he murmurs, voice uncharacteristically serious but as caring as always.

“I don't want to talk, Cassian.”

Except you did, it was probably the only thing that would make you feel better right now. You were just tired of pretending, and it seemed like he insisted on it. You were starting to wonder if he knew how to do anything else.

You can see him nod at your words in the corner of your eye, looking down at the heavy jacket in his hands before taking another step and draping it over your shoulders, his scent enveloping you instantly. You had to close your eyes for a moment, telling yourself not to give in.

“Don't stay here too long, you'll catch a cold.” His hand lingers in the air, looking like he wanted to reach out, but he doesn't, he never does. “You can keep the jacket.”

No sooner the words had left his mouth than he turned around. It makes you look up at him at last, facing his back, wings curled into his back as he walks away slowly, braving the cold in favor of leaving you warm as you stubbornly stayed outside instead of winnowing home. You couldn't understand him at all.

“What are you doing?”

He pauses, body visible tensing as he hears the defeat in your voice. “You said you didn't want to talk.”

“So you'll just leave?” Some of the anger returns, standing up and walking closer to him, waiting for him to turn and look into your eyes, almost daring him to. “What was all of that for then?” Your heart skips a beat when your eyes finally meet, the hazel showing all the things he wouldn't say like they always did, but you were tired of reading them for yourself, you wanted to hear everything from him.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Help?” You can't help but scoff, swallowing down the burning in your eyes, the headache that was creeping in. “If you will not make me yours then you can't act like I am.”

“That wasn't-”

“Since when have you been such a coward?”

“I'm not a coward.”

“You're sure acting like one.”

“What do you want me to say then?” His voice was rising in volume, eyes sharp as he took you in. Good. “That I didn't want him anywhere near you? That I almost ripped off his arm when he reached for your hand? That I don't want anyone else touching you? Is that what you want to hear?”

His hazel eyes burned into yours but you weren't going to back down, not now after finally getting something out of him. You would end this game tonight, one way or another.

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why don't you want anyone touching me?”

Cassian lets out a breath, eyes moving over your head to watch the river for a moment, gathering his thoughts as you push him into a corner. You were about to repeat the same question, or even throw a few choice words at him when he reached for your neck, bringing your face in closer as he bends down, his touch gentle despite the storm raging inside him.

His lips linger over yours for a second longer, maybe giving you time to push him away, as if you ever would, but his patience seemed to be wearing thin as he kisses you at last, lips moving over yours as his hands hold your waist, pulling you closer into him. Your arms wrap around his neck, getting lost in him before your mind catches up to you, making you reluctantly pull away so you could look into his eyes.

“Say it,” you whisper against his lips.

“Because you're mine.”

A smile breaks out on your face. If it hadn't been for the cold biting your skin, you might have thought this was a dream. Cassian's face mirrors yours as he kisses you again, lifting you up into his arms as you winnow you both home, your mouths only pulling apart when your back hits the mattress.

[echo-riot]

PLEASE part 2 of a slip of the tongue (sevika)

maybe next day??

idk but youve awoken something within me with sevika as mommy

✞⛧ Slip of the tongue (part two) ✞⛧

Warnings: Pet names, including “mommy,” used in a sensual/domestic setting Suggestive language, heavy implications of dominance and submission dynamics Light embarrassment, power play, and playful banter

You wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and an overwhelming sense of dread. The events of the previous night flood back in disjointed flashes—Ricky rambling at the bar, too much alcohol, Sevika showing up like a looming shadow of judgment, and… oh, god. You called her mommy.

You groan, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples. Why did you think drinking was a good idea? Why did you think calling her was a good idea? And why the hell did she not immediately burst out laughing and leave you to wallow in your shame?

You crack an eye open and glance around the small, dimly lit apartment. You’re home—miraculously—though you have no memory of getting here.

Sevika. Of course.

You glance down at yourself. Your shoes are neatly placed by the door, and a blanket is draped haphazardly over your legs. She must’ve brought you home and tucked you in. The thought makes your chest ache with a confusing mix of mortification and warmth.

The faint sound of movement from the other room catches your attention, and your stomach drops. She’s still here.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffle toward the kitchen, every step making you wince as your head pounds in protest. You find Sevika leaned against the counter, sipping from a mug of coffee like she owns the place. She looks annoyingly put together, her trench coat gone but her usual confidence intact.

Her sharp eyes flick to you as you enter, and a smirk tugs at her lips. “Morning, sunshine.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

“Oh, I wasn’t planning to. But now that you’ve said it…” Her smirk widens, and you can already tell she’s going to enjoy this way too much.

You collapse into a chair at the small table, cradling your head in your hands. “Please tell me you’re here to kill me and put me out of my misery.”

“Tempting,” she says, setting her mug down and crossing her arms. “But no. I figured you’d need someone to drag you out of the gutter this morning.”

“I’d prefer the gutter, honestly,” you mutter.

She lets out a low chuckle, the sound both infuriating and strangely soothing. “Relax. You were drunk. I get it.”

You peek at her through your fingers, bracing yourself for the teasing that’s sure to come. “So… you’re not mad?”

“Mad? No.” Her smirk turns teasing. “Amused? Definitely.”

You groan again, slumping back in your chair. “I can’t believe I called you that.”

“‘Mommy,’” she says, enunciating the word slowly, clearly enjoying your suffering.

“Stop,” you beg, your face heating up.

Her laughter is deep and rich, filling the small apartment. She pushes off the counter and steps closer, towering over you in that way that always makes you feel small and flustered. She rests a hand on the back of your chair, leaning in just enough to make your heart race.

“You’re lucky it was me you called and not someone else,” she murmurs, her voice low and smooth.

You swallow hard, unable to meet her gaze. “Yeah, real lucky.”

Her fingers brush your chin, tilting your face up so you’re forced to look at her. Her expression softens, the teasing giving way to something warmer.

“You said it was an accident,” she says, her thumb grazing your jaw. “But if you want to call me that when you’re sober, I’m not stopping you.”

Your breath catches, your cheeks burning hotter than ever. “You’re serious?”

Her smirk returns, but it’s softer this time. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

You blink up at her, your brain short-circuiting as you try to process her words. “I… I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” She straightens, ruffling your hair in an annoyingly affectionate way. “Now, drink some water before you pass out again. Can’t have you calling me for help twice in one week.”

You watch her walk back to the counter, her confident stride making it clear she’s still in charge of the situation.

You spend the rest of the day nursing your hangover and mulling over Sevika’s words. Her smirk, her voice, her teasing—all of it has been looping in your mind on a reel you can’t escape. She said she wouldn’t mind if you called her mommy again. She even sounded serious.

But was she?

The idea of actually testing it makes your stomach twist in knots, but the curiosity is unbearable. Sevika never says anything she doesn’t mean, and the way she had leaned in this morning, all confident and steady, had been… something.

By the time evening rolls around, you’ve made up your mind. You have to try. Just once. Just to see if she’s really okay with it—or if she was messing with you.

Sevika is lounging on your couch, her legs spread wide, an arm draped across the backrest as she scrolls through her phone. She’s the picture of casual dominance, and you’re trying your best not to let it get to you.

You clear your throat, and her eyes flick up to you. “Feeling human again?” she asks, her tone light but amused.

“Yeah,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thanks for… you know, everything. Last night, this morning…”

She shrugs. “Not a big deal. Someone’s gotta look out for you.”

You hesitate, shifting on your feet as you try to work up the courage. Your heart is hammering, but you force yourself to push forward. “Sevika?”

“Hmm?” She doesn’t look up from her phone, her attention only half on you.

You take a deep breath, your voice coming out softer than you intended. “…Mommy?”

Her reaction is immediate. Her head snaps up, her phone forgotten as her sharp grey eyes lock onto yours. For a moment, she says nothing, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, the corner of her mouth curves into a smirk.

“Well, well,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t back down. “You said I could, so…”

She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she studies you with a look that makes your stomach do flips. “I did, didn’t I?”

The air between you feels heavier now, charged with something unspoken. You shift under her gaze, feeling both nervous and exhilarated.

“So…” you say, your voice faltering. “How was it?”

She chuckles, the sound deep and smooth as she sits back again. “Not bad,” she says, her smirk widening. “Though I think you can do better.”

“Better?” you echo, your voice squeaking slightly.

“Mmm.” She pats the empty space beside her on the couch. “C’mere.”

You hesitate for only a moment before crossing the room and sinking onto the couch next to her. She doesn’t waste any time pulling you closer, her strong arm wrapping around your shoulders as she turns to face you.

“If you’re gonna call me mommy,” she murmurs, her voice dropping to that dangerously low register that makes your heart race, “you’d better mean it.”

You blink up at her, your breath catching as she leans in, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Try again,” she whispers.

Your pulse is pounding now, but the warmth of her touch and the challenge in her voice push you to obey. You tilt your head up to meet her gaze, your voice coming out soft but steady.

“Mommy.”

Her smirk softens, her eyes darkening as her hand cups your jaw, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “Good girl,” she says, her voice like velvet.

Your heart stutters, and you’re pretty sure your face is on fire, but you don’t look away. The approval in her tone sends a rush of warmth through you, and suddenly, you’re not so embarrassed anymore.

Sevika’s smirk widens as she takes in your reaction, clearly pleased with herself. “You’re lucky I like you,” she murmurs, her hand sliding down to rest on your thigh. “Otherwise, you’d never hear the end of this.”

You laugh nervously, your voice shaky. “So… does this mean you’re okay with it?”

Her thumb presses into your thigh, just enough to make you squirm. “I’d say that’s an understatement.”

You don’t have time to respond before she leans in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both possessive and tender. By the time she pulls back, you’re breathless, your mind spinning.

“Now,” she says, her voice dripping with authority, “why don’t you be a good girl and sit in my lap?”

You obey without hesitation, your embarrassment all but forgotten as you settle onto her strong thighs. Her arms wrap around you, holding you close, and the way she looks at you makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

Maybe calling her mommy wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 21

WARNINGS: mention of food/eating, swearing

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: ♡PENED

W♡RD C♡UNT: 3,573

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 2

A/N: i was going to make this a super duper long chapter but i think i'll also split this into 2

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

“Thank you so much,” you say. You take the drink carrier that one of the hotel staff members found and place the coffees you made for you and Wonseok inside. You make sure to carefully wrap up the Danish you grabbed earlier tightly with a napkin before putting it in your bag to prevent crumbs from getting everywhere.

It’s early. Not as early as it normally is when you go down to the complimentary breakfast at whichever hotel you’re at, but early enough for most of the good food to still be available. Luckily for you, most of the people staying at the hotel are still asleep or are already exploring the city, leaving practically no lines and making it easy for you to get what you need.

“Y/n, noona?”

You freeze at the familiar voice calling for you. You know it’s Changbin, you can recognize his voice anywhere especially when he’s trying to be quiet. Even more so when he’s calling for you. He’s developed a habit of calling your name as gently as someone would carry a newborn baby followed by ‘noona’ after a brief pause so short that anyone else would miss it.

Uncertainty laces his voice like he’s not sure it’s actually you. You think for a moment. Maybe if you pretend you heard your phone and keep walking out, then you’d be fine. You know the members tend to roam the hotel and go to the complimentary breakfast on their own. Or at least, without a member of their staff. The hotel has a lot more privacy than any restaurant they might try to go to. And if anything, the hotels are committed to keeping their complimentary breakfast exclusive to the guests so it's a bit safer for them to go off on their own without worrying about running into fans or cameras as much.

"It is you, noona," His voice is closer now, a bit more hushed. A sense of relief in his voice. "Do you want to join me for breakfast?"

You turn to Changbin, a soft smile spreads across your face at the sight of him. His hair is mostly hidden under a black beanie but you can still see some of the soft black tuffs poking out in the back. In his slightly oversized white t-shirt, distressed baggy blue jeans, and plain white sneakers he blends in with the crowd of people inside the dining area. Virtually undetectable to the public but you still can’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of your mind telling you to leave.

“You know the rules,” You remind him gently. “Besides, I’m heading out to meet with one of my best friends from back home.”

"Oh," It's subtle, but Changbin's lower lip juts out as he turns away.

It was one thing when Changbin hated you and actively tried to avoid you. It stung at first and made your job difficult when it came to the interview portion of your day. It was another when the two of you became civil. He wouldn't seek you out as much as the other members did. He'd mostly show up when one of the other members did and would engage in small conversation. But after your little mental breakdown at the start of the second tour, you've met an entirely different Changbin--the most frustrating version of him yet.

The one that pities you.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, bringing you back to your previous task of meeting with Wonseok. “I have to go. I’ll see you at the show tomorrow,”

“Right,” Changbin nods slowly. You almost feel bad.

Almost.

You know that half of the members have schedules today. You also know that Changbin hates being stuck in the hotel room. You thought that it was something that he said as an exaggeration in an interview. But you've spent enough time with him during the tour to know that he usually would tag along with one of the other members if they were doing something so that he wouldn't be bored. But Han wasn't feeling too well after your exploration day with him and Seungmin for the "Summer A Stay" project. Minho will probably stay the day to take care of him while Hyunjin might sleep in until mid-day. Which means that by the time he wakes up, most of the day might be gone. And even if Hyunjin is ready to go out later or any of the boys who are currently working are ready to go out, Changbin is still going to be bored for several hours.

You give Changbin one more glance before you head to the front of the hotel to wait for a taxi.

"Aren't gallery openings more of an evening thing?" You ask after taking a sip of the apple cider.

"The events that I normally take you and Frankie to are," Wonseok puts a cracker with a piece of cheese in your mouth. He filled up his plate full of hors d'oeuvres enough for the two of you since you can't hold both a plate and a cup with your broken arm. "But this one is for up-and-coming artists and this is a sort of soft launch. Only the press and invited guests are allowed today. Tickets sold out for the next few months for the main event so they added today to lessen the traffic."

The two of you stand in the middle of the gallery in front of an oil painting of a large tree where the roots are sprouting from a skeleton, directly from the heart by an artist whose name you’re not even going to try to sound out, even in your head. It’s a grim painting with a message a bit too morose for you and Wonseok to be taking a snack break in front of, but it’s also the least crowded area of the gallery for now.

Your eyes focus on the child playing near the tree in the painting. “Is this the type of gallery where people can buy art or just look at it?”

“Looking to add some life to your apartment?” Wonseok smirks. Your apartment back in Seoul hardly looks lived in. You only decided to get some plants after Frankie commented on it looking like a jail cell.

You hold back hitting him playfully, not that you have an available hand to do so, and instead roll your eyes at him. “You know for a fact that I couldn’t even afford an art print right now.”

“Which is exactly why I’m paying for everything today.”

“I’ll pay you back when I get paid. I’ve had a lot of free time so I did a bunch of album reviews and introspective pieces for rookie groups. Plus I get royalties from my stuff on the company website.”

“Pretty sure that’s supposed to be resting time so you can heal,” Wonseok takes a sip of his drink, also apple cider, and slightly shakes his head in disapproval.

“I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead. For now, I need to focus on the present and I’d love to have a place to come home to once the tour is over. Can’t do that if I get evicted for not paying rent.”

Wonseok presses his lips together in a tight line as his eyes shift between you and that painting that seems to have captured your full attention. He takes the last bit of food from the plate—something wrapped in lettuce—and shoves it in your mouth before discarding the paper plate in a nearby trash can. “C’mon, let’s find you a happier piece of art to stand in front of. Look, that one has a puppy in it and a dea…okay maybe not that one. I think we saw a sculpture with butterflies when we first walked in.”

Wonseok’s hand lands on top of your head as he tries to steer you away from the tree painting that you feel strongly akin to, almost like it’s not a metaphor for life and death but a visual representation of how you feel inside. Like you’re the skeleton and everything above ground is every other aspect of your life. But that’s just how art is supposed to work, right?

Your head is turned to the left towards a small crowd standing in front of a piece of art you can’t see. You feel Wonseok pushing you towards the crowd. The two of you barely move a foot away from the tree painting when a random pain in both your stomach and chest forces you to stop dead in your tracks, causing Wonseok to stumble into you. Miraculously, your drink remains in its cup.

"Why'd you stop?"

You're unsure yourself. The strange pain you're currently feeling, although fairly new, isn't entirely foreign to you. It's not consistent either. Sometimes it feels like a vice is being squeezed around your torso. Other times it feels like a horse kicked you so hard that all of the air has left your body. Right now, it feels like you've been struck by lightning thrown by Zeus himself. You thought it was a side effect of the pain medication that you had been taking. But even after making sure you eat enough food with your medicine, the side effects never went away. So, deciding the pain in your arm is much more bearable than whatever is going on internally, you decided to go off your meds and just deal with the pain from your arm.

You turn around and point in the opposite direction at a clay sculpture. You clear your throat and try your best to keep your voice as even as possible. "Let's go look at that one instead."

Wonseok follows your hand to see what you're pointing at. "The illusion piece? We already looked at that one. I took notes on it and everything."

"Maybe a second look will inspire more questions for you to ask the artist. Perspective and all that."

Wonseok furrows his brows as he studies your face for a moment. Seemingly finding what he's looking for, he nods as his face softens. "Sure, we can go look at that one again."

The further you walk away from the crowd, the faster the pain dissipates and you let out a silent sigh of relief.

The two of you walk around the gallery a bit more, appreciating the less crowded pieces. Wonseok explains the art and techniques to you as you walk. Occasionally, Wonseok leaves you alone in front of one of the pieces so that he can interview one of the artists. You make sure to stay in his line of sight so he can find you quickly when he's done.

"Okay, I just need to find one more artist and then we can go. She's supposed to be the star of the gallery and has been someone that everyone is watching. But she's also very introverted. So far, none of the other journalists and artists have talked to her today. But she's here, I saw that she was signed in at the front desk earlier." Wonseok explains as he scribbles into his notebook.

"Is she the one who made the tree painting and other similar still-life pieces?" You ask as you look around the gallery to help find her for him. Luckily, there are pictures of the artist printed in the brochure you were given when you got in.

"Yeah," Wonseok closes his notebook and shoves it into his pocket. "She's the youngest one here too. Barely 17. To exhibit that much talent and to be featured in a gallery like this at such a young age is astonishing. Some of the stuff here she started when she was only 14."

You let out an impressed sound as you continue to scan the room. There are more people than there were earlier, making it harder for you to see through the crowds of people. You try to look past the crowds, along the walls, and in the corners. You know that if you were her, that's where you'd be if you were avoiding people.

As you scan the room, you catch a glimpse of a very familiar face, locked in focus while stroking his chin as he stares at something on the wall.

"Oh...I'm actually going to kill him..." You mumble under your breath.

"Kill who? What happened?" Wonseok looks where you're looking and tries to see what could have unsettled you.

"Right there," You whisper as you point at the man several feet away from me. "It's Seo Changbin."

"Your Seo Changbin?"

Smack

"He is not my Seo Changbin."

Wonseok stares at you with his mouth agape as he rubs the spot on his arm where you hit him. "I didn't mean it like that. When the hell did you get so strong? I just was asking if it was the same Seo Changbin that you've been complaining about for nearly a year."

"Unfortunately," You roll your eyes as you dig for your phone inside of your bag. "He better not come over here. If anyone sees us together, Yoona will have a have a field day."

"Look around, Y/n. Nobody cares that he's here. If they did, they would have swarmed him already. I promise you, nobody recognized him. It's fine,"

"Yeah but..." You look around the room again, seeing if anyone might be looking at Changbin. There are a lot of cameras around, anyone can snap a photo and upload it online.

"It'll be fine. I see the artist I need to interview right there. So let me go talk to her and then we can get out of here before you combust."

Wonseok points just behind Changbin at the girl standing off in the corner with a lanyard around her neck. Sure enough, it's the artist he's been searching for. Wonseok pats your head and starts to walk off in her direction.

"Wonnie, wait," You grab at Wonseok, successfully latching onto a bit of the fabric on the back of his shirt. "Let me go with you. I can help translate."

"I can speak English, Y/n."

"Yeah, but she doesn't know that."

"Y/n," Wonseok lets out an exasperated sigh as he looks at the artist and then back at you. Luckily for him, she hasn't caught on that she's been spotted yet. "Just go stand in that dark corner over there or hide in that bathroom. I'll be back in fifteen--twenty minutes tops. And then I will hand feed you the fish and potatoes or whatever you've been bugging me about."

You look between Wonseok's stressed yet worried face and Changbin's distracted one. If you slip away before Changbin spots you then maybe it'll be fine.

"Fish and chips," You pout.

"Yes, fish and chips. Now please, can I go interview her before she runs away again?"

Before you can finish nodding, Wonseok is off to interview the young artist. You do one more survey around the room, trying to find somewhere to hide. Conveniently, you've also lost sight of Changbin.

"Shit," you mumble under your breath. You turn quickly to disappear into the bathroom, only to be met with a wall.

You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing to hit the ground as something wraps itself around your waist. You crack one eye open and see what's around you. Apparently, the wall has arms.

"I'm so sorry...noona?" Changbin sets you upright and helps you straighten your clothes.

You quickly push his hands off while looking around. "Th-thank you,"

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. What are you doing here?" Changbin sheepishly smiles and throws his hands behind his back.

"It's fine, that's what I get for trying to run indoors." You smooth out your shirt and look up at Changbin. He's wearing the same thing he was when you saw him at the hotel. Only, he's added a dark grey long-sleeve button-up over his shirt and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. "I'm here with my friend, remember? Which staff member are you here with?"

"None," Changbin scratches the back of his head while he looks around the room. Finding what he was looking for, he smiles and waves behind you. "I'm here with Hyunjin. I had nothing to do today and he was invited so he let me tag along."

You turn around and see Hyunjin walking towards you. He's wearing a pair of black cargo pants, a leather jacket that's covering up the white graphic tee underneath, and a black bucket hat that's hiding his recently dyed ash-brown hair. Both of them stick out amongst the nice button-downs and slacks that most of the men are wearing, but you know that once they step outside, they'll blend in.

"Ah, noona, what are you doing here?" Hyunjin asks when he gets closer.

"She's here with one of her friends from home," Changbin answers for you.

"We get to meet one of noona's friends?" Hyunjin smiles. Somehow, you can't tell if it's an entirely innocent look from him.

You turn back to look for Wonseok. His back is turned to you as he continues to interview the artist about her work. No matter how many signals you throw in his direction, he doesn't turn around.

Best friend telepathy is fake.

You are consciously aware of the way that the three of you are standing. You take a small step back, ensuring there is a noticeable gap between you and them.

"Maybe..." Your voice trails off.

You're not sure why you feel so awkward right now. You're with the kids practically every day. You've spent more time with them than your friends in the past few months. Maybe it's the fact that you're trying to avoid ruining their hard work with a scandal that's making you feel uneasy. You were fine yesterday when you were with Han and Seungmin. And you had a brief conversation with Hyunjin in the hallway yesterday when you were walking back to your room after getting a bucket of ice. So why does everything feel weird?

"Noona?" Changbin calls softly, directing your attention to him.

"Huh? Sorry," You shake your head. "I'm a bit hungry so I'm not all there right now. What were you saying?"

"I was just asking if you and your friend want to join us for lunch," Changbin suggests, a large smile etched on his face.

"Um..." You turn around and see that Wonseok is finally making his way back. "I think we have a pretty packed schedule so--"

"That was quicker than I thought it was going to be but I'm done. Ready to go...Oh, they caught you."

You press your lips into a fine line and squeeze your eyes tight as you try to refrain from smacking Wonseok in front of Hyunjin and Changbin. After silently counting to ten, you slowly open your eyes. Hyunjin wears a large teasing smile as he looks between you and Wonseok while Changbin's smile is gone altogether.

"Alright, noona, we get it. We'll leave you two be." Hyunjin smirks as he nudges Changbin who has now returned to being a wall, unmovable and tall.

"What?" You tilt your head to the side and raise an eyebrow at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin looks at Changbin and gives him a strange look before turning back to you. "We see that you're...busy so don't worry about having lunch with us."

Wonseok nudges you suddenly. You turn to him to see what's wrong with him only to be met with him tilting his head towards Changbin and Hyunjin. You gently shake your head 'no,' knowing that he wants you to introduce them to him. The two of you continue to argue silently.

Stubbornly, Wonseok pushes past you and sticks his hand out in front of them. "Sorry, we're still trying to teach Y/n her manners. I'm Park Wonseok. She'll kill me if I get this wrong. You must be...Changbin and...Hyunjin?"

"You're right Wonseok...hyung?" Hyunjin asks as he takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

"Ajusshi," You cough. Wonseok's head snaps back at you, warning you silently that he'll get you later. "Sorry, I have something in my throat."

"Then I guess we should go get you some soup instead of that thing you wanted. Huh?" He smiles mischievously.

"That's not fair, Wonnie," You mumble. Suddenly, you're nerves are at ease and you're back to being calm.

"Then be nice to the person who is buying you things today." He whispers. He turns back to Hyunjin and Changbin. "Why don't the two of you join us for lunch? As a thank you for taking care of Y/n all these months. I know she can't be a pain in the ass sometimes."

"I'm not a--"

"We'd love to, right hyung? Noona doesn't talk much so it'd be fun to get to know her more." Hyunjin smiles as he looks at Changbin, who is still quietly looking between you and Wonseok.

"I don't think--"

"Perfect!" Wonseok claps his hands together. "Let's go, I know just the place too."

Wonseok grabs your good arm before you can protest further and drags you out of the gallery, Changbin and Hyunjin in tow. You repeatedly pinch Wonseok's side to get back at him. Instead of telling you to stop he slides his hand down your arm and firmly clasps your hand, swinging it back and forth between the two of you as you walk.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[httpsvgin]

🦴 ━─ 𝒮weet 𝒞arol͟i͟n͟a͟. 𝜗𝜚₊˚

【 𝒞ho sangwoo & 𝒞hildhoodbsf!reader

. ͏ㅤㅤꉹㅤׅ⠀⁺　⠀⠀ @httpsvgin　　𓈒　 ♱ ❛❜ ， 面爛

　

੭̲᱖　  you hated clubbing, everything about it filled you with dread. the stench of sweat, blinding lights that could send someone to the hospital, obnoxious couples grinding on every surface they could find, the risk of a psycho lacing your drink without even knowing? yeah, it definitely wasnt an atmosphere you wanted to associate with. yet here you were in your friends bathroom against your will while you stared at your attire in the mirror basically regretting your entire life decisions.

੭̲᱖　  a black laced dress clung to your body perfectly highlighting every inch and trace of your curves, stopping just at the flesh of your thighs elegantly yet not to short to where you could look trashy and as though you had no dignity. your legs were covered with a thin pair of dark tights while a pair of matching coloured heel-boots covered your feet, the length of the leather material sat just under your knee caps. finally, you topped off your outfit with a long sleeved leather jacket to cover your bare arms from the cold outside that awaited.

੭̲᱖　  a gasp from behind forced you to jerk your head at the noise to where your eyes met with your friends which were clung to your body, looking you up and down before giggling loudly like a child.

੭̲᱖ “oh, my, god! i didnt even recognise you for a second because of how sexy you look!” a loud squeal echoed around the marble bathroom, your friend showering you with compliments to which you shoed her off, laughing softly through the blush that grew on your cheeks with embarrassment.

੭̲᱖ “the cab is gonna be here in two minutes, pack your shit and get ready to party!” she screamed in a sing-song tone at the word party before scurrying out her bathroom to collect the rest of your friends that sat in the bedroom with wide, smiling faces. you on the other hand grunted quietly, a weird, nervous sensation twisted and fluttered in the pit of your stomach. again, you took a final look at yourself in the mirror before your friend called your name from the bottom of her stairs which fuzzed your thoughts back into reality.

੭̲᱖ grabbing your belongings, you shoved them in the small handbag that you slung over your shoulders and inhaled sharply. finally collecting yourself, your heels clicked against the floor while you followed the voice of your whining friend from the front door. there, you both squished into the backseat of the cab that had awaited outside. this was gonna be one hell of a night.

੭̲᱖　  yeah, it was worse than you could’ve ever imagined. you had been in the club for, what, half an hour? and about seven men have already tried to hit on you. one even instituted for you to be his, and quote, ‘sugar baby,’ to which you kindly assured him you had enough money as you needed.

੭̲᱖　  which wasnt wrong, you were far from poor. graduating tied top of your classfrom seoul national university just a few years back with intent to become a state worthy crime investigator. which now, you were close too, being a well know lawyer and investigator in the south, and at one point earning the badge of koreas first female officer to succeed in law enforcement. your job was where you gained your wealth and fame that surrounded you now.

੭̲᱖　  infact, growing up wasnt always easy. your mother could barely scrape by to afford food on the table every night as your dad was never around to provide for you both, too busy with his long term affairs to even give a shit about his wife and child at home. it was hard watching your mom juggle severely part time jobs at once just so you had a bed to even sleep on. even since you were a child, you promised you magically grow wealthy and provide your mother with the world. a house by the beach, to pay of all her debts, for her to live the rest of her life in peace. it was all you wanted, to see her finally happy.

੭̲᱖　  sadly, she passed the year before you graduated. and since, your independence grew rapidly to where you are now. living in central seoul in a luxury penthouse with degrees and trophies around your apartment complex and money you can’t even count if you wanted to. if only your mother was there to see your achievements.

੭̲᱖　  now here you sat in a shitty club, music shaking the floor below you while you slumped against one of the lounge chairs in the corner of your room. to your right, a girl sat atop a boys lap with their mouths crashing against each other and you physically gaged at the loud, wet noises they left out. to your left, a man triple your age slurred in your ear, the stench of alcohol and sweat rinsed his breath which tickled your ear since he trailed his finger along your cheek.

੭̲᱖　  wrinkles seemed to ridden every inch of his face, some of his teeth black and rotten due to his age. why he was in a club you had no idea, because it was clear he was meant to be in a nursing home. yet still, he leaned in to peck your neck and immediately you pressed your hand to his chest with a tight, bitchy smile.

੭̲᱖　  “do you have a lighter?” you leaned in to whisper into his ear, earning a rich chuckle from him. he hummed, riding his hand up your thigh and it made your throat burn with bile at his wrinkled, perverted touch. digging his hand into his blazer pocket, yours followed to his back one as you forced a fake giggle. there, you yanked at the bills that sat tight in his pocket, carefully removing them without him even knowing with a soft glide of your hand along his hip. how delusional of him. smirking, he handed you the lighter and you thanked him sweetly, stepping up from your seat between the cushions assuring him you will be back. you lied right through your teeth to him before your heals clicked against the sticky floor, leaving your jacket to dangle off your shoulders slightly and you shoved the back exit door open with your elbow.

੭̲᱖　  the freezing midnight air hit your skin like a bullet, goosebumps rising comfortably along your arms and thighs as you pressed your back against the wall behind you. with shaky hands you pulled the cigarettes from your jacket pocket, pressing the butt of the cigarette to sit between your lips and rose the flame that flickered from the lighter towards the front of the rolled up nicotine. there, you laid your head against the brick wall, inhaling a mouthful of smoke and fluttering your eyes shut softly. the light that illuminated from the moon glistened against your skin magically, highlighting the raw beauty from your features.

੭̲᱖　  suddenly, someone cleared their throat from beside you. you jumped, coughing rapidly at how much smoke you inhaled on accident. clutching your chest, you coughed harshly against the burning sense that tingled your throat and a figure loomed over you. your cheeks burned, eventually slowing down your breathing to where you cleared your throat, bringing the hand that clutched your chest to rub the back of your neck. slowly, your eyes trailed up the man that had watched the whole thing. his attire consisted of a black suit jacket with matching trousers and a white buttonup underneath, the first two buttons being undone and revealed a slightly toned collarbone. but then you saw his face.

੭̲᱖　  a man, perhaps his late thirties stared back. his features were all so recognisable, his sun tanned skin clear and looked extremely soft under the moonlight. his dark hair looked fluffed and messy, slightly grazing over his eyebrows which had twisted into a frown. a pair of silver lined glasses were protecting his big, brown eyes that seemed to be perched only on you. a vein ran softly along his sharp jaw, lips soft and pressed into a tight line while he stared. you frankly couldnt believe the man standing infront of you. you couldnt draw your eyes from him, not for a second.

੭᱖　  “sangwoo?” your voice was quiet, ushering with disbelief and your lips seem to part open to gape at the man you knew all to well standing infront of you.

੭̲᱖　   he didn’t speak. instead, his hand reached out to take the cigarette that dangled from your lips, your lipstick stained the end before he brought it between his own lips, inhaling sharply. he looked drained, shattered even, his eyes looked sunk and sleep deprived as he tilted his head back the same way you did earlier, exhaling a loud puff of smoke that made his adams apple bobbed in his throat.

੭̲᱖　  “i didnt know you smoked.” the lack of emotion in his tone made your stomach churn. he looked as beautiful as he did all those years ago, even with his obviously aged features and dull words. seeing him raw and live again made sparks of electricity and memories fuzz painfully at your brain.

੭̲᱖　  cho sangwoo, your childhood crush and college fling stood beside you. the last time you raw him was graduation, you both collected you diplomas together infact while his mother cheered along for you both in the waves of people. it made you feel less shit about your own mother not being there to see your amazing moment that you shared with your best friend. you still remember how euphoric it felt to throw your hat into the air beside him. the look of admiration in his eyes as he pulled you both into an embrace, quietly sobbing into your long, black graduation robe. you thought you would never see him after that day as it was also the day you moved to england for your trainee degree. and now here he stood ten years later, not able to take his pretty eyes off you while they took the whole of you in, making you turn into mush under his predatory eyes.

੭̲᱖　   “never pictured you as a club girl either.” he huffed, carefully examining the way you grew red until his eyes.

੭̲᱖　  “yeah, im not.” now it was your turn to act dull despite the warmth and nostalgia that grew in your stomach. “i had no choice but to come im afraid.” you took a step toward him, reaching up to yank the cigarette from his lips and taking it between yours, taking a long drag, tasting his lips along the end of it.

੭̲᱖　  he hummed, pushing his glasses up from the end of his nose and stared ahead. “so you dont have a mind of your own? cant make decisions for yourself, no?” his tone grew sharp and teasing, blinking a few times to hide the smirk that tickled along his lips. his cockiness made you want to smack his stupid face there and then, but you knew better than to give him the reaction you wanted and you brushed it off with another long inhale of the cigarette you both shared.

੭̲᱖　   “but you look..” his voice was low, turning his head against the wall to look down at you from his side. you matched the way he leaned back against the wall, turning your head up and to the side to catch his deepened gaze. it took everything in you not to scream in his face. to beg why he never called. why he just removed himself from your life with such ease. why it took you years to get over him while he seemed perfectly fine without you. why— “beautiful. at least that hasnt changed.” the way he complimented you so casually made you feel like putty under his fingers. every day you are complimented for your beauty, and sure, it makes you feel good about yourself. but hearing it from him was far deeper than that.

੭̲᱖　  “and you look like shit.” humour laced your tongue, offering the cigarette over to him. he scoffed dryly through a low chuckle, his fingers brushing over your palm while he took it from you. his touch. his laughter. his eyes. it felt unreal to be within his presence. and even despite the winter air that cursed the breeze, you felt the warm aura radiating from his body and filling you with happiness.

੭̲᱖　  “glad to know that mouth hasnt changed either.” again, he chuckled under his words, taking a long drag off the cigarette before dropping it to the ground bellow him, crushing it under his shoe. slowly, he lifted himself from the wall, brushing off his expensive looking blazer jacket and adjusting the end of his glasses once again. he was close enough that you could smell the twist of his cologne and smoke that clung to his broad body, a strand of hair falling to cover over his doe eyes. your breath hitched in your throat when he took the coldness of your fingers between his warm ones, using his free hand to adjusting the hair from your face that had been blown by the wind.

੭̲᱖　   the second he stood infront of you felt as though they could last for an eternity, loosing your balance within the soft colour of his eyes you thought you forgot about until now. then, you opened your mouth to speak to which he shushed you immediately, his hand petting the side of your head to feel the softness of your hair below his warm palms and you rubbed your cheek against the softness of his skin that stroked you gracefully.

੭̲᱖　  “once i come back, im going to take you out and spoil you with every ounce of money i get.” his quiet words caught you off guard, one of your eyebrows cocked up in confusion but to sooth the emotion you felt he brought his head to lean his forehead against yours. “i promise, okay. fuck, just wait for me, hm?” the emotion that now replaced his once dull tone made you think for a second that he was about to cry. yet, you couldnt help the way you fluttered your eyes closed at his vulnerability.

੭̲᱖　  “i have some.. business to attend to while im gone. it’s a lot to explain but, uhm, please, just be here when im back.” your name felt raw on his tongue, and hearing his say it after so long was a feeling you couldnt only recognise as yearning. you had so many questions. what business was so important? and what was so desperate about it that he needed to leave so soon? your thoughts could run a thousand miles if they could but then, he pulled back, forcing you to wrench your eyes open to see a piece of paper handed out infront of you, a number written along it.

੭̲᱖　  “my mother lives close by, her stall is just down the road from here.” his eyes grew in sadness, making his look like a puppy with the way they sunk at the mention of his mom. “promise me you will look after her when im gone. please.” the desperation on his tongue made you feel ill, not able to break away from his pleading gaze while his fingers squeezed yours awaiting for a response.

੭̲᱖　  “yes, cho i promise.” you managed to mumble out before his large arms came to wrap around you figure in an instant. his chin rested atop of your head, his palm stroking the back of your hair while you nestled the side of your cheek to press against the hardness of his chest. raw vulnerability reeked the air around the both. so did comfort. the way you could felt him tense below your body sent tears to spark your eyes. you intended on holding onto him a little longer, but it turned he had other plans. pulling himself away, he avoided eye contact with you as he took a few steps back. suddenly, a grey van began to pull up over from across the street and his eyes seemed to be glued to its content. just then, he looked back at you.

੭̲᱖　  “wait for me.” your nickname rolled off his tongue with tenderness, slowly turning his back to you as he walked away. every inch of you body screamed for you to run after him. you spent every moment of your life dreaming about this man and the second you get him back he leaves just as easy as he came. but no, your body refused to move, tears burnt your eyes while you watched him cross the street toward the car that seemed to be waiting for him. he looked back again. this time, face drained of emotion, and then he opened the car door and settling himself inside before the door immediately slammed shut. there you felt the tears break the wall that tried so hard to keep them in, bottom lip trembling as you looked down at the napkin in your palm, your tears wetting the material while you stared at the number written in his messy handwriting.

੭̲᱖　  he left without a trace. and it was safe to say from that day on, you never saw his face ever again.

[joooooniecore]

Re-finding Home

Teaser:

“You are too boring so I did what I did.”

This was the last sentence you heard from your current ex-boyfriend of five years before packing all your bags and going back to your hometown permanently. Your mother has already heard you cry enough over call and when Namjoon, your best friend, demanded you to come back home, you quickly agreed.

The plan was simple. You go back to your hometown. Enjoy a good break and then plan what you want next. You decided to get a job in the nearby town since you had a very goof portfolio. You never realized how weak you could be physically just from a breakup. The breakup was harsh but you weren’t someone who would show that you were bothered. You were a very strong-willed woman and hated showing other people your weak side. So sniffing your nose, you packed everything and was ready to take the flight back home.

You decided to come back later to clean up your apartment.

Hopping on the plane, you were actually excited to meet your friends. It has been almost five years since you last went home. You have been busy with life and spending time with your boyfriend that you cancelled several plans just to please him. He would get grumpy whenever you decided to plan a vacation back to the hometown. Hence you stopped planning altogether. Mark, your ex was also from the same town as yours but his parents have long shifted to the States leaving him no reason to return back to that small flimsy town ever. You on the other hand always loved your town. It was small, refreshing and warm. The close knitted society always made you feel welcomed and you loved getting pampered by every neighbor.

Hoseok has already contacted you as you could hear his big smile when he gushed about how happy he was. Hoseok has been your best friend since ages and being able to finally see him made you immensely happy.

“Jungkook and Taehyung have been tearing my ear off since they learned about your arrival.”, chuckled Hoseok over the phone.

You were currently seated in the plane which won’t take off for a good ten minutes so you decided to call him.

“Really? The kids are all grown up.”, you reminisced as a soft smile adorned your face.

You, Hoseok, Namjoon and Seoah were of the same age in school whereas Taehyung was a year younger and Jungkook two. The five of you became close in secondary school itself and have been unbreakable ever since. Jungkook was practically raised by you as he struggled through subjects while you diligently helped him.

“Is everyone in town now?”, you finally asked.

“Yes. Everyone.”, Hoseok said with a giggle which left you confused.

“Why do you sound sus?”, you asked.

“Because even the Min Yoongi is back in town.”, he said and the ground beneath your feet shifted.

Yoongi was Hoseok’s elder cousin brother who was a year older than you. Even when you guys were young, you knew he hated your guts. He would make a disgruntled noise whenever you tried to talk with him or even stand within his eye range. You both fought like animals. From pulling pranks to ugly name calling, it has always been you against him. But all this didn’t stop you from falling in love with the captain of your school’s basketball team.

You tried to avoid the feeling, through fights and badmouthing but nothing helped. That’s when you started dating Mark and decided to shift to the States for the sake of your job and relationship. You thought that years away from him would erase the teenage feelings you had once but no. The moment you heard his name, your heart started beating fast and the tingling sensation all across your body made sure to remind you about his handsome face and confident aura.

****POSTING ON 26TH JANUARY SHARP AT 2 PM IST.****

[uracutieraka]

Something stupid

★・・・・・・★

The time is right, your perfume fills my head

The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue

And then I go and spoil it all

By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

★・・・・・・★

Kuroo Tetsuro x F!reader

Tw: nothing! Lol!

★・・・・・・★

Synopsis; you and kuroo grew up together and one slightly intoxicated night you admit things you probably shouldn’t have.

★・・・・・・★

You and Kuroo met when you guys were 6 years old.

You had just moved in to your new home only to be greeted by a tall dark haired boy asking if you wanted to play volleyball.

You, ever so excited about the opportunity to already make a new friend took him up on his offer.

He tricked you.

He didn’t want to actually play volleyball, he just wanted you to throw the ball to him.

You were okay with this though, you thought the chatty boy was funny and cool.

“So your names y/n but can I just call you n/n? It sounds way cooler. No offense.”

“N/n is way cooler Tetsuro!” You chirped back.

“Cool. N/n it is then!”

Something about how sure of everything he was lured you in.

Even when asking questions it’s like he already knew what your answer would be.

That’s what kept you coming around him, he intrigued your little brain.

He felt the same about you.

You had big eyes that were always so full of wonder and joy that he wished he could have.

Tetsuro was smart. Extremely smart. He had heard his parents say he was too smart for his own good so many times he had lost count.

He hated being the smart kid.

Always knowing what the adults were talking about had made him stressed. More stressed than a six year old should ever be.

He had found himself bored with life. Dreading big questions all the time.

His parents fought a lot, he wondered how long it would take for them to get a divorce.

Divorce. He learned what that was a year ago when he over heard his mom mention getting one to her friend one night, while his dad was out of town for work.

‘I just cant stand this anymore. Im only here for Tetsu.’

‘Have you thought about… you know?’

‘Divorce? Yeah i have. I just- I don’t know how to even start.’

His mom was unaware of her son’s presence, otherwise the conversation would have been over the second she knew.

‘Divorce’ had repeated in his mind for the whole weekend.

Finally when school came around he asked his teacher.

“What’s a divorce?”

The teacher, thinking nothing of it, answered.

“It when a married couple breaks up.”

It took 3 more years for them to leave each other.

But he was lucky. He had you.

By the time you two were nine he had surpassed you in every academic way possible.

‘N/n! N/n! Guess what?!’

‘What?!’

‘I’m reading at the same level as middle school second years do!’

‘Wow Tetsu! You’re so smart!’

You didn’t care though, you always remained proud of him. Openly expressing it all the time too.

When you were 10 though, there was a suddenly shift between you two.

A younger kid from down the block named Kenma had started coming around.

Practicing volleyball with Tetsuro everyday nearly.

You weren’t one to get jealous but something about this whole situation made your stomach hurt.

The boy you had known for three years was pushing you aside for someone he had known for 3 months! How unfair!

‘You never play with me anymore Tetsu!’

‘Well yeah, Ive been busy!’

‘Playing with Kenma! It’s not fair!’

‘You’re dramatic!’

You guys didn’t talk for a whole year after that.

You had never been so lonely in your life.

On your 11th birthday though, Kuroo decided enough was enough.

He used all his allowance money to buy you the biggest stuffed animal he could find.

Rushing over to your house with it he practically ran your door down trying to get in.

‘Happy birthday n/n! Stop being mad at me! Im sorry! I miss you!’

A few years later, you had came around to the idea of Kenma. Creating a trio you three became unstoppable.

Middle school was rough for all three of you.

Kenma was a year younger than both of you so seeing him was harder to do than you thought it would be.

You decided Friday nights were mandatory sleepover nights because of this.

That’s how you ended up here, eight years later, on the floor of your new apartment with Kuroo.

Kenma’s mom said he needed to get his grades up before he even thought about asking to go out again.

It had been like this the past 6 Friday’s.

Just the two of you, because Kenma couldn’t get his damn grades up.

“Well maybe if you stopped bleaching your hair you wouldn’t have so many chemicals seeping into your brain so you’d actually focus in school.” A shit eating grin was plastered across the tall mans face.

“It’s not the bleach Tetsu. It’s the video games obviously.” You stated, propping your phone up so you both could properly see your younger friend.

“Both of you shut up!” Kenma groaned, throwing his face into a pillow on his bed.

“Welp! Maybe get your grades up!” Tetsuro said, sticking his tongue out tauntingly.

“Whatever asshole.”

‘Kozume! Watch your mouth!’ You heard kenma’s mom yell in the background.

“Whatever!,” he replied back, grabbing his phone and holding it close to his face. “Im gonna go now. Do my homework or something. I hate you both, bye!”

“Hate you, love you byeee!” You said pressing the big red ‘X’ in the corner of your screen.

Sighing you roll over on your mattress which is smack in the middle of your (soon-to-be) living room.

“Tetsuuuu,” you coo out, a sign you were up to something sneaky. “I have a surprise from my grandparents!”

“Oouuu what is it?” He said, matching your devious tone.

You hopped up and skipped over to your mostly empty fridge.

A pizza box and bottle of wine sat in it.

The pizza curtsey of your best friend, his ‘housewarming gift’ was dinner for the night.

And the bottle, a gift from your grandparents for turning 19 and moving out.

You grab the, now, chilled bottle and skip back out to the empty living room.

Lucky for you they also gifted you a corkscrew with it.

Sitting down infront of him you shake the bottle in his face.

“Oouuhh fancy, where’d ya’ get that?” A quizzical eyebrow shot up on the mans face.

“My grandparents. They said its a tradition and good luck to drink a bottle of wine when you get your first place.,” you huff looking down at the bottle in your hands. “I just think they’re cool as fuck and were trying to reason with my parents.” A small chuckle leaves your lips as you now look back up at the black haired man across from you.

“Hey nana l/n has always been awesome as hell! Cut my girl some slack!” He replies, reaching out and grabbing the bottle to inspect it himself.

You laugh at his response.

He’s always been so quick witted. It was one of his most charming traits, in your opinion.

“So! We gonna crack this bad boy open, or what?” You say, drawing his attention off the label.

“Yes, sorry!,” He smiles up at you apologetically. “Do the honors ms. l/n!”

You take the bottle from him and slam the cork screw in the end. After a moment of twisting a ‘POP!’ Sounds through the echo-y room.

“Hoorah!” He shouts, throwing his arms out wide in the air.

“You’re such a nerd!” You shout back.

“Whatever! Just fill my damn glass!” He shove the glasses in your face.

You stick your tongue out at him but do as he says, pouring the contents of the bottle out into the glasses.

After you fill each of them very generously to the half way point of the cups, you take a curious sip.

Your face contorts into a sour look.

“Ew! This is disgusting!”

“Really?” Kuroo asks, taking a cautious sip himself.

You watch as his face also turns sour.

“Oh my god thats horrible…”

You two stare at each other for a moment before bringing the glasses back up to your lips, both chugging the alcohol down, hoping to finish before the other one.

You finish your glass first and snatch the bottle off the floor, pouring another glass and doing the same thing.

He finished not long after you, waiting for you to fill your glass again before following your actions and refilling his.

After a few minutes of chugging down glasses you grab the bottle again, its empty.

“Damn!” You say, finally catching your breath.

You both are panting heavy at the lack of air intake.

“We finish it? Should be a few minutes before we start feeling it.” He finally says.

He was right.

10 minutes later you stand up to get some water to was the nasty after taste out of your mouth. But it hits you like a truck.

You wobble around for a second before giggling at your actions.

“Oop!” You slur out.

He laughs out behind you, standing to help you.

He trips slightly over his own foot, falling flat on to the ground.

Youre laughing so hard your stomach starts to hurt.

“Te- testu! Are- HAH are you okay?” You finally manage to ask through bursts of laughter.

He stands up, laughing just as hard as you.

“Yeah, im fine.” He says when he finally stands up straight.

He stumbles over to you.

“Where’s your speaker at?” He asks, brushing the front of his black t-shirt off.

You fumble around the counter, moving boxes around to find your bluetooth speaker.

You pull it out from behind a box and turn towards him.

“Here!” You hand it to him.

“Perfect..” he mumbles, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. He pulls it out and makes haste turning it on and connecting it.

A familiar song starts playing.

One that you two listened to on late night, alone in your old room.

Record old and scratchy, from your grandmothers collection.

You and Kuroo were far from just friends.

He was your first kiss, after all.

It happened when you were 14.

An off chance that kenma stayed home.

Kuroo had snuck a beer from his dads fridge the weekend prior, on a mandatory visit due to the divorce agreement.

He save it for this weekend hoping to share it with you and kenma, but kenma had a new game that had just released that day. He obviously had to play it right away.

You didn’t mind though, it was hard for you and Kuroo to find time to hangout just the two of you anymore.

You loved Kenma but Kuroo was your best friend first after all.

Kuroo stands up and reaches his arm out.

You grab it and stand up, facing him.

"So, I've been thinking, neither of us has kissed anyone yet," his face flushes and turns away from you as the words leave his mouth. "And it's probably better we get it out of the way before first year starts. That way we're not like, you know... behind?"

"Behind?" You ask.

"Yeah, all my friends on the volleyball team have had their first kisses and it's normal to do it. Plus we're best friends and friends can kiss too!" He says, a giant smile on his face.

"Friends... can kiss too?" You had never really thought about it like that, but you guess he's not wrong.

"Friends kiss all the time! It's normal in other cultures! Plus one little kiss couldn't hurt anybody," He leans forward to be slightly over you. "So? What'd ya' say?"

"Okay." you say quietly.

were you really about to kiss your best friend?

He leans forward and you close your eyes.

It was a quick and slobbery kiss to your lips.

He pulled away quickly. Unsure what to do next.

You blush and look away.

“Ok now we kissed so can we go back to what we were doing?

He laughs before sitting back down on your bed.

“Y/n?” Youre broken out of your train of thought by kuroo extending his hand out to you.

You grab it and he pulls you in close to his chest.

This was familiar.

You slightly inhale his smell while you adjust to the new position.

Your finger tips slowly trace up his arm, until your right hand meets his left one. He intertwines your fingers together.

At the same pace you slide your palm flat against his chest up to his shoulder.

He hums and closes his eyes and his right hand drops down to rest on your hip.

Kuroo enjoyed these moments. Slow and calming. They were a nice break from the busy schedule he had.

Everything and everyone around him was so intense all the time, but you? You had a way of stopping time and calming him down. And you didnt even have to do anything.

He begins swaying you two around languidly around the small kitchen.

Youre both humming to the tune of the song when he begins to sing softly.

“I practice every day, to find some clever lines to say, to make the meaning come true”

You giggle at his antics before joining in on his singing.

“But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you”

Its now his turn to chuckle at you, he instead opts to spin you around.

“Oh!” You say at the sudden movement. Stumbling a bit he grabs your waist to steady you out.

“Sorry.” He says, wide eyes trained on you.

“It’s okay dont worry!,” You say, resuming the position you were in before. “Let’s keep dancing.”

He nods, continuing to sway around.

"Y/n." He says, the sudden seriousness in his voice sends a chill down your spine.

"Hm?" You hum back in response, focused on where your hand intertwines with his.

"You know, this isn't, normal for friends right?"

You knew that. You weren't stupid.

Sneaking kisses when nobody was looking, intertwining your pinkies while you guys walked together, cuddling up whenever you guys could. All these things were things that couples did. Not friends.

"What about it?" You ask and he finally stops swaying you around, lowering his other hand to rest on your other hip.

He takes in a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. When he looks back down at you he begins to talk.

"So, maybe we should talk about it?"

You bring both your hands to smooth over the fabric on his shoulders.

"Do we have too? I like whatever this is." You huff out, now looking up to make eye contact.

He rolls his eyes.

"Yes! We obviously have too!" He's hurt at your response.

He would much rather be your boyfriend than best friend. In fact the idea of forever being whatever he was to you drove him crazy.

You step backwards a bit, breaking from his hold.

Obviously you want him to be more than your best friend, but was it worth it?

If you say no you risk losing him either way.

"Look, Tetsuro," He cuts you off before you can finish.

"If you're going to say no then you have to answer another question." His eyes hold an emotion you've only seen when he loses a match. Defeat. Like he's already accepted the fact you would turn him down.

"What is it?" You ask, curious as to what he wants to know.

"If you say no, then you have to tell me what all of this was then? All the late nights sneaking around, the long glances, the flirting, everything. What did it mean to you?"

The question begins ringing in your ears.

'What did it mean to you'

"Everything." it's a quiet whisper, you're not surprised he didn't hear you.

"What?" He says, voice low.

"It means everything to me. That's why I'm scared to do anything about it. It's so perfect right now, what if everything changes?"

He studies you for a moment. Obviously looking up and down.

You shy away slightly at the attention.

He just can't believe something so beautiful could casually stand around in front of him.

You're in old running shorts and one of his t-shirts. It was beaten up from years of use.

Once he grew out of it last year he finally gave it to you.

Your hair is messy and frizzy from the humidity of moving and drinking. Falling out of the bun you put it in lazily hours ago.

"I understand where you're coming from, but I can't just do this forever." His reply doesn't shock you. It isn't fair to ask him to wait forever. You know that.

"I know..." You sigh, looking down at your socks.

"Can you stop being so emo and just be my girlfriend?" He sighs loudly, taking a step forward, hands finding your hips again.

His tone is teasing but you know he means the words he's saying.

"Promise to not let it ruin what we have?"

"Hmmm....," He puts a finger up to his chin and taps it, like he's pondering the idea.

"We have to acknowledge that there will be certain risks, such as, since you'd be my girlfriend if anything happened between us I'd probably die of a broken heart, im pretty sure."

"Oh my god you are such a nerd Tetsu!" you playfully swat at his chest, laughing.

"Ok but seriously, be my girlfriend."

"I gotta think about it."

"There's nothing to think about, be my girlfriend."

"There's a lot to think about actually."

"How about, you say yes to being my girlfriend right now, then think about it later?"

"That makes no sense."

"Who cares?"

You didn't realize he'd be slowly leaning down with each question until you feel his breath on your face.

You can smell the alcohol from earlier on his lips.

"I care." Your voice is stern.

He backs up again, removing his hands from you and leaning back against the counter top.

He's so tall that the counter is in line with his hips. Making it the perfect resting spot for him.

You lean on the counter opposite from him. The kitchen is small so you guys are still close enough that your feet are touching.

You put some weight back on to your wrists, allowing you to lift your leg up and give a small kick to his shin.

He looks up at you, taking his focus from where your feet were once entangled.

"What?" He asks, a hint of attitude lacing his tone.

"Don't do that Tetsuro."

He doesn't respond, but instead rolls his eyes.

You huff, not caring to argue with him.

"Look, I'll be your girlfriend," You watch as his face perks up, he goes to say something but you're quick to shove your hand out in to his face to keep him quiet. "But, you have to make one promise."

You drop your hand, allowing him to respond.

"I'll do anything!"

"Okay, and I'm so serious about this. Like, this is do or die."

He nods his head up and down quickly, showing his blind alliance to whatever you were going to say.

"Okay, So, I need you to promise that you'll stop making corny science jokes all the time."

He stops moving to stare at you, popping a brow up at you In annoyance.

"That's it?"

You nod 'yes' quickly.

"No can do sweetheart. Science jokes are baller."

He rolls his eyes again, grabbing you and pulling you back into him.

Your words are muffled due to him holding your face into his chest.

"And you can't say 'baller' to describe things anymore!"

"Uh-Uh! You're asking too much of me!"

He lets your head go and move your head back to look up at him.

"Fine, I'll be your girlfriend. No conditions."

"Swear?" A cheesy grin overtakes his face.

"Yeah. Swear."

He leans over, grabbing your face in both his hands, squishing your cheeks until you're lips poke out.

A giant wet kiss lands on your lips and he makes a show of popping his lips with a 'MWUAH'! He drops your face and you wipe the excess spit off your mouth.

"Okay one condition, you have got to stop giving such wet kisses! It's gross!"

He just laughs, signaling that won't happen anytime soon.

"Too late you already said swear."

You roll your eyes and push his chest a bit, finally going to grab a glass of water.

You guess having him as your boyfriend couldn't be so bad.

[sendpseuds]

Oh my god... Mall goth anakin x on-the-verge-of-a-midlife-crisis obiwan... Your Mind

[part one][part two]

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Obi-Wan knows he's already spent far more money than he'd planned. Store after store he's found himself nodding absently in response to every request Korkie makes. The huge wireless headphones he doesn't need. The limited edition sneakers that look identical to the ones already in his closet. The sunglasses all the cool kids are wearing.

Today, Obi-Wan can't seem to say No.

It would be easy to say he's doing it to make his son smile — it's not as if he's above buying a bit of the boy's affection from time to time — but the truth is, it would be far easier to stick to a budget were Obi-Wan's mind not so completely occupied by other things.

Things like leather harnesses and eyebrow scars.

Charcoal rimmed eyes and a teasing smile.

The unavoidable temptation of a shiny silver ring through a perfectly pouting lower lip.

Obi-Wan's cheek still burns where the young man kissed him, close enough to the line of his beard that he's certain the rough hairs must have tickled the soft corner of that painfully pretty mouth.

Had that actually happened?

Had it actually been want he’d seen in that sharp sapphire stare?

Had he actually said those things?

Meant those murmured words?

The questions are a near-constant loop in his head.

Being propositioned for sex is not an entirely foreign concept to Obi-Wan — it was certainly more common in his young and reckless years but he’s been single for a while now and it happens more often than people might think. Nowadays it’s usually, "Wanna get out of here?" from a tipsy patron in a dark dirty bar, or "Which one is yours?" from a single mother rooting for the rival team in the late innings of a high school baseball game.

The last time he was approached like this— with such brazen aggression, such wild open want — the last time a pretty young thing in leather and low-rise jeans cornered Obi-Wan in a dark neon-soaked room he had a fake ID and no clue he was about to become a dad.

"I think I'd rather call you Daddy."

Fucking hell.

"Hey, Dad?"

Obi-Wan needs to physically shake the thoughts from his head before he can look at his son.

His son who, as per usual, is buried in his phone.

"Yes?" Obi-Wan hums expectantly, as if he hasn't been walking around in a daze all day, cocking his head to one side when Korkie clicks off his phone but doesn't move to place it in his pocket.

"You've been really cool today," Korkie replies with a sincerity that hits Obi-Wan right in the chest, his heart squeezing tightly when he meets a pair of eyes that look like a mirror of his own, "and I know we planned to go to Dex's for lunch—"

Then Obi-Wan understands.

"But you have other plans?"

He looks appropriately apologetic.

He looks so much like his mom.

"Soniee just got her license," the teenager explains, holding up his phone as if it's evidence to his claim, his eyes darting away at the mention of his school friend's name, "She wants to celebrate."

"She wants to celebrate, hm?" Obi-Wan can't help but tease, barely resisting the urge to immediately apologize for the part his DNA had in the boy's complete inability to fight the blush creeping down his neck, remembering how endlessly Satine used to tease him, "With you?"

"Not just me," Korkie scoffs, somewhere between annoyed at his father and disappointed that it won't just be him and his crush driving around in the beat up sedan her father has been saving for her ever since he got that big truck he doesn't need, "She said she can pick me up here and drop me off at home later."

Obi-Wan know's that Home does not mean his apartment.

"I should call your mom—"

"I already texted her," Korkie quickly replies, holding up his phone to display the typical response of, "As long as it's alright with your father."

All Obi-Wan sees is the time.

And today, he just can't seem to say No.

"Alright," he agrees with a nod and a slanted smile, "As long as you promise to wear your seatbelt—" Korkie groans and rolls his eyes. Obi-Wan smiles. "And—" he continues loudly, holding up a finger as if to halt any oncoming complaints, "And if you consider spending an extra day or two with me before school starts so we can go up to Qui-Gon's camp."

"Fishing?" Korkie guesses, neither excited nor deterred by the prospect.

"I was actually thinking we could take his old Jeep out for some off-road driving lessons."

"Really!?"

"You can't—"

"I would never tell Mom."

Obi-Wan will tell Satine. He always does.

Sometimes, it's still fun to play the game.

"You're sure this is okay?" Korkie asks once the day's purchases are stuffed inside his new backpack, his tone almost uncomfortably earnest, "I feel bad about skipping lunch."

The kid probably thinks his dad is going to sit in their favorite diner by himself and frown into his french fries while Dex tries to cheer him up with wild stories of far faraway places.

Most times, he would probably be right.

Korkie also thinks no one has called Obi-Wan Daddy since he was seven.

"Get out of here," Obi-Wan insists with a smile, "I've got places to be."

That earns him a laugh.

There's an odd itch at the base of Obi-Wan's skull. One that crawls all the down his spine.

There's a secret in his throat he can't seem to swallow.

There's a low husky voice in the back of his mind counting down to a beautiful boy's thirty-minute lunch break.

"But that's more than enough time isn't it?"

He should leave.

Walk right out to the car and drive to Dex's alone exactly the way his son thinks he will.

"See you later, Dad!"

"Enough time for Daddy to fuck me—"

But, today, Obi-Wan just can't seem to say No.

[part one][part two]

[applepies-with-some-looting]

FOR REAL OMG.

My first introduction to the fandom is through SQH, making me start off on a bad note with Shen Yuan because from the get go I'm just like: "Okay this is the literal CREATOR of this world, why tf is a random rich kid millennial the one who's speed running this story on easy otome-esque mode." because seriously, I mean, why not SQH?? Why did he have to actually make an effort and live through everything to reach where he is, when SY just pops in to take over SJ's body when SJ had already fought tooth and nail for his strength, body, position, and prestige? Not to mention, the system is more lax w SY than SQH??? like why??

Then I transitioned to SJ thru a fanfic where SQH saves him and of course SY is "better" than SJ I mean, a pampered third young master of rich parents?? Obviously he would be more subdued and kinder than the guy who literally had the misfortune of living in the rotting bowels of society since childhood.

Nobody wants a broken man.

They prefer those who are soft and good and kind, when a lot of those people are that way because they have the privilege to be. Like that quote from Parasite(?) "She's not rich and nice, she's nice because she's rich. If I was rich I could be nice too." It's easy to be "nice" when you've never suffered or worked a day in your life. SY didn't have to work or suffer because he was fortunate enough to be born rich, and that's why he's so 'kind' without consequence.

YQY being kind had fucked over SJ.

SJ trying to be kind and help LQG just ended up with his being accused of trying to kill him (twice).

SJ pampering NYY? It fucked him over.

SJ sparing QHT for unknowingly helping him even though its her own family at fault (and her ignorance is frankly annoying)? Fucked him over.

SJ saving and following YQY even though he thinks YQY never went back for him???? FUCKED HIM OVER.

Shen Jiu has been dealt bad cards all of his life, obviously he would be bitter, resentful, and deal out bad cards in return. I'm just pissed nobody tried enough for him yet they have the audacity to fawn over an imposter waltzing around using his face, body, power, and prestige doing things he would hate. This is why I hate calling SY or SJ as SQQ. SJ is the one who earned that name and identity but SY just gets it granted to him by the system??

In comparison to TCF (another fandom I'm in), Cale is not privileged. He had also been abused and suffered almost all his life. (pre-transmigration) But why don't I prefer the original Cale if I liked SJ? Okay, for me it kinda comes down to 'privilege' again. Og!Cale literally took over KRS's body as KRS is already a fundamental part of the company, taking over his body, strength, face, abilities, prestige, and some of his memories (+ a literal human guide) while Cale gets yeeted to a world on the verge of war with nothing but incomplete information (and emotional clownery /affectionate/). After fighting tooth and nail for survival for at least 20+ years in Korea, now he has to do it again but with ✨Fantasy DLC and Adoption✨ installed. (Though, liking SJ opened my eyes and made me like Og!Cale more, I still prefer KRS!Cale)

Compared to SY, Cale's kindness just feels more... meaningful to me. More raw, more real. Now, while he did have ppl guide him compared to SJ, I prefer him over SY simply because this is a man who suffered and was abused like SJ yet... he's still kind?? It's more admirable to me when a man who had "given in to the place that was supposed to be called home" and had to fight for the survival of himself and others for years exhibits kindness.

Because hurt people have the tendency to hurt people and unlike the kindness that stems from having a home, freedom, shelter, money, love, and family since birth; kindness that sprouted from love and the desire to help others not experience the same abuse and hurt that he did (and suffering more in the process) evokes more deep emotions and a sense of fondness within me.

Also, Cale treats the ppl around him as actual real ppl and not just characters. He has empathy, and a lot of it.

Heck, he even had the time to worry about the OG!Cale and his happiness in the middle of dealing with a fuckin war led by a thousand year old reincarnator!!!!! He only let go of his worries when it was confirmed to him via a trusted source that Og!Cale was happy!!!!

I've been into the TCF fandom for years now and it seems I've been spoiled by Cale's care and fucks to give even towards ppl that are seemingly not mentioned in the novel or those that can be deemed not rlly important. ig that's why I found SY's indifference and even hate towards the original owner of his body (and his reaction to GYX's death) to be off putting. (Though, SJ did abuse SY's fav character so rlly, I can understand. Still put off by his indifference + reaction to GYZ's death though)

Maybe it's also a plus that Cale's relationships with others aren't rlly romantic but focus more on family. I'm not against romance, it's just that SY's wife beam is a bit too potent for my taste.

This post brings up a point too: → [°_°]

Look this is just an opinion not a fact don't get into such a tussle over a stanger opinion on a book of all things which are meant for entertainment. How I view this doesn't effect you nor do you take it as fact in fact youre free to disagree don't care.

It fucking says a lot about Shen Jiu as a character and the fandom as a whole in fanfics when the majority of them make him in fanfics having a better turn around in his life is always when a respected man is attached to hip usually( Liu Qingge) or acts as a voucher for people to even see him past his shell or his lies about the true reason he goes to the brothel goes out the window because otherwise he's a liar, a no-good and lecher and scum villain and because he's so emotional and volatile people do not respect him as a peakleader at all. He doesn't have a voice like it's telling me he's so female-coded cause ladies knows how dangerous people giving character assassination at your person could do tons of damage to your future prospects in future life and honestly I really like even though the ficwriters don't outright say it cause it subtle how majority every man and person in his life have taken away his autonomy and I find the most egregious example SY not actually giving a fuck about the person of the body he's inhabited and him not emoting at all when he saw the OG being abused and still validating LBG like if even the modern man from another era doesn't give a shit either someone who has to have sensible morals in society and even he doesn't care . This dynamic reflects a lot how society often undermines individuals who don't fit its norms, stripping them of their autonomy and dignity. SJ's struggle for respect and recognition in the story mirrors real-world issues of power and validation.

Everyone prefers SY. I'm not going to act as if I'm better though in real-life same I'd like him more too but his martial siblings barley tried. If they dislike him whatevs, but you guys are not at all suspicious about the 180 change in behavior how the kid he used to hurt and abuse is now being loved and pampered wtf??? Don't you guys owe him that much to investigate.

They could have tried to dig deeper aside from the one time they test him for possession but they didn't because they prefer the new and improved him". It actually so telling how the author chose someone of such a rich and idle pampered background to be transmigrated to the villain who's origin the very opposite of that and yet seemingly integrated himself better and incorporate better relationship with them then SJ.

The cultivation world, as well as the characters within it, reflect deep-seated classist attitudes. SJ's rough background and survival tactics make him an outsider, whereas SY, coming from a more privileged background, can navigate and be accepted more easily.

What does that actually say exactly that someone of a better background get along with the peaklords but not SJ because with our SJ he's a fighter and biter, he plays dirty to win in their eyes, he a lecher every inconceivable things is literally placed onto him just based on their perception of him. Is it that unconsciously they could tell SJ is not of of them or am I looking to deep haha??? The cultivation world is very classist is not news to anyone and that being the exploration in MXTX next book and how WWX background being how he literally met his end because of it says an actually lot how she took the things from this story and incorporate it into her next book.

The entire story had me retrospectively think hard how SJ voice is silent and yet to me at least he stills haunts the narrative because of it then when you get to the reveal about his backstory it makes you fucking think of him as an actual person and not just an object as a vehicle for the main character to just insert himself in because no matter the nature of a person it stills their body.

Like i've seen some fans even reflect this saying it not his fault that he transmigrated or he deserved it's technically his body and that he's a better person than SJ. At first, I agreed but then I took some time to process this. I don't care about SJ actions and his nature if it at the expense of his fucking body. SY can live for many many years but he's not SQQ unless he reincarnated like Airplane like it makes me want to me want to debates about transmigration. SY is his own person an adult with memories he has his own thoughts and feelings so when he transmigrated he took over the manual controls but that doesn't mean he's actually SQQ because he's not he's a pampered millennial.

In Otome Isekai (OI) stories, the original souls often face bad endings, while the transmigrators, who are modern characters inhabiting and thriving in these disliked bodies, desperately try to avoid such fates. They manage to charm the original male leads and are so focused on changing the story's trajectory that they can't accept its original path. This comparison to OI highlights how these characters' actions mirror Shen Yuan's (SY) predicament. The original person's identity and struggles are dismissed for the sake of the new character's journey, leading to the erasure of the original identity.

I don't vibe much with Shen Yuan because he seems very indifferent. The world revolves around him and his bias, much like many other transmigration novels where the MCs are similar. I find it hard to connect with a MC whose actions, even bold, lack a genuine foundation with other characters because they continue to see them not as people but character roles they're supposed to fulfill. He does everything to save himself, not from the sincere intention. His reaction to the death of GXY was cold af.

I don't like transmigration stories for this reason. They're often treated more as reader-inserts for fix-it fanfiction. We rarely learn about the characters' past lives, so we end up thinking of them as the person they transmigrated into, rather than who they were before. All we know of before was he was cyber-bullying and harassing the author and a troll so an asshole, basically.

If you guys don't know about OtomeIsekai basically we have bunch of modern day Koreans jumping into european white women bodies and inhabiting their bodies and living vicariously through them basically wish-fufillment bullshit trash . 9/10 nobody notices because this is a person who is widely disliked and despised and because no-one cared for the OG soul it easier to just go under the radar hell even the MC don't give a shit to so we have another MC that become so beloved in the eyes of the ML and how she bewitched everyone into loving her.

Transmigration is literal horror. " His Present" a short story I read from novel-updates where it literally based on this very concept where his loved ones preferred the imposter ugh made me bawl.

It makes me think about transmigration. Does it truly matter if the person who took over lived much longer than the original soul does that make them "THEM" ? I actually do appreciate SJ backstory being added but like now with transmigration just popping off on internet novels where the concept is everywhere where the original soul is discarded and the new one is celebrated, kinda adds a layer of tragedy and ethical dilemma to the narrative. It questions the validity of the new identity and the consequences of such an erasure. I'm always biased for the OG souls maybe that why a lot of SJ fics make him the character who is most suppressed by his role as scum villain succeed in making him heard to be listened to and mattered.

Imma nap lol this rant was loooong!!!

[dissociation-station123]

Chapter Six - Lapse in Control

Sylus X Reader

You were unable to form a sentence at the moment. Chemical endorphins in your brain were overflowing with pleasure. All you could seem to do was groan in appreciation. “Y/N..” A voice calls out your name but the juicy burger was way more tempting than the baritone sound.

A hand reaches out to grab your own as you go to savor another delectable bite. You look up at the man across from you. “I’m getting jealous sweetie.” A fake pout appears on his face and you begrudgingly set down the meal.

“Sorry but this is delicious.” You praise whoever created such a masterpiece. He chuckles again as he nods. “What were you saying?”

“Are you free on the last Saturday of this month?” He asks again, you have come to appreciate Sylus’s patience. He never makes you feel rushed to do anything.

You laugh at his question and his eyebrows raise in confusion. “Sylus, you do know who you're talking to at the moment right?” He nods still unsure why you won’t give him a simple yes or no. “Then yes I have no plans whatsoever. You are the only one who forces me from the comforts of my home.”

He smiles then as realization crosses his features. “Right. I have a favor and I never ask for those lightly.” His gaze falls and though his tone is light it’s laced with a bit of melancholy.

“You seem to like owing me…” You tease and he smirks amusement now taking over. “Spit it out already. Would love to finish up this burger sooner rather than later.” He grabs a napkin and gently wipes the corner of your lips as you scowl.

“I have to attend a wedding. I would prefer not to be at this one alone.” He doesn’t give any more details but you have already pieced them together.

“Sure I’ll keep you amused so you don’t have to think about the bride.” You answer and he grins appreciatively. “Permission to punch you when you look dazed and like you're reminiscing on the past?”

“Full access granted if I can call you kitten.” He counters and you frown. “And since I assumed you would say yes because you are a kind person, I have plans after this to go shopping.” A heavy sigh escapes your lips at the thought of having to browse around a store.

“Only because I like you. But you owe me a lot more of these burgers in the future.” You say not looking forward to the events after tonight’s meal. He holds out his hand and you take it, shaking in agreement.

“Thank you.” He says earnestly and you glimpse a bit of fear but only for a second. You pick up your burger and take a large bite, savoring the flavor.

“I don’t like going to big social events. The thought of doing that alone seems even more unbearable. You're a friend so no need for thanks.” You think back to your melt down earlier in the day. The embarrassment you felt once your sense returned and how Sylus handled it. You owed him the same consideration.

You continue eating and once done he lifts the napkin and you grumble. “I’m not that messy.” You complain but he simply smiles. You realize this is how he shows he cares. He is still closed off in a way but his actions show you who he truly is.

-

“Y/N…” Sylus calls out to you from behind a fitting room door. You already feel awkward and out of place, this particular mall being a hot spot for the wealthy. “Can you help me?”

“You are awfully needy today Sylus.” You counter and hear him chuckle. You make your way into a private fitting room, still overwhelmed by how people cater to him the moment he walks in.

It was massive, there was even enough space for a fancy upholstered velvet chair and end table, where a nice bottle of whisky sat. The glass beside it is already half filled, you eye it wanting just a sip. “Go on. It’s fine.” You gleefully pick it up and make a pleased sound.

“The tailor had to deal with an irate customer before finishing my measurements.” You look over at him, now aware of the fact he was very shirtless, you nearly choke on the second sip of liquor. His physique was something out of an otome game, one of the main love interests. You couldn’t help but stare greedily.

“Well, care to help me?” He asks again with a sly expression, knowing you were mesmerized. Holding out the measurement tape towards you. “Just need to get my waist. Think you can do it sweetie?”

“S-Sure…” You gulp hating how pathetic you sounded. Thinking way too much about not looking awkward as you attempt to grab the tape from his hand while also setting down the glass, the ice clinging. Your limbs tremble slightly, it’s been awhile since a half dressed man stood before in an intimate space, and he was ridiculously attractive. Even you who tended to not pay close attention could not ignore it.

“You alright? Not feeling well? You looked fine while stealing my whiskey.” He says snarkily but you don’t know what expression he has because you're too busy ogling his chest. You simply nod and make your way closer, trying not to trip over your own feet, the big fitting room suddenly feeling too small.

You wrap the tape around his waist but apparently not where it needed to be, his hand guiding you lower. You swallow heavily, the heat from his body making you shift your weight uncomfortably. You try not to look, but your eyes get drawn to the perfect lines of his abs.

Something takes over you, some force that has been hidden deep within yourself for some time. Without doubt or hesitation you lift your fingers to trace the enticing curves biting your lower lip. You feel the muscles beneath your fingertips tense and Sylus let out a breath, as they journey lower.

“Hah… Y/N what are you doing?” He questions his voice lower than usual. He quickly grabs your hand, halting its movements. You look up at him in that moment, dazed by his beauty.

“You're so pretty Sylus. It is unreal.” You mutter dreamily, those red eyes widen at your words. His expression is void of his usual cocky defiance and teasing.

“Yeah… You think so?” He asks huskily, his grip now loosens on your mischievous hand. There is a sudden hunger in his eyes that you have never seen or noticed in another human. You slowly nod your eyelids droop as you fall further into this strange haze.

“Sir, I apologize for the wait.” The door to the fitting room flies open, roughly knocking you back to your senses. You blink a few times and then hurriedly look at the number on the yellow tape. “Oo my, sorry for interrupting.” The clerk looks to the ground in embarrassment.

“No umm it’s not…” You struggle to find an excuse but there are too many running through your mind to physically voice them. You rush over to the table and quickly scrawl the number into the notebook laying there. “I’ll meet you out there Sylus.” You stumble forward rushing past the employee, your cheeks burning up.

You lean against the wall, your head falling back against the cool concrete. Your heart is pounding loudly. You close your eyes trying to pull yourself together. Overwhelmed by this sudden rush of feelings, catching you completely off guard.

“Seems she got the last measurement for your shirt.” You hear the clerk's muffled voice as you wait. “You wanted a pair of pants, right sir? Would you like me to get those measurements as well?”

“No!” Sylus shouts aggressively and you are startled by his harshness. You hear him immediately apologize to the clerk, you could only imagine how scared they were beside him. “I realized I have a pair at home that will work perfectly. So no need.”

A few seconds later the clerk emerges with notebook in hand, still a bit frazzled. You watch as Sylus takes out a small stack of bills and places them in their hand. Sylus looks a bit disheveled as he continues to apologize and explain when he needs the items.

Your heart is back to a normal pace as you smile a bit seeing him awkwardly fumble in a conversation. Very not like the Sylus you originally met. You stand up from leaning and make your way over to him.

“I don’t think I can afford anything at this particular mall.” You interrupt and his gaze quickly shifts to you. He stares at you for a second then nods, a silent understanding that what just happened was not to be spoken of. It was just a lapse in control, both of you being touch deprived and a bit lonely in nature.

“Not to worry. You have helped me out and have agreed to go so I must return the gesture.” He explains as you both head out the door. You make a disgruntled face but he ruffles your hair teasingly. “No complaining.” You sigh and agree.

As you make your way to the boutique to pick out your outfit he grabs your shoulders from behind and pulls you close. His breath tickles your ear causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine, “You can be bold when you want to be can’t you kitten.” He whispered, his voice tinged in seductive tones.

“Sylus…” You growl, warning him as you turn around to face him with a fierce glare. He puts his hands up in defeat but his coy expression has returned, and so does his loud laughter.

“Ok! Ok! It is now wiped from my mind dear friend.” He says almost gleefully. You knew he was temptation personified but you knew you were usually unfazed by such antics. Being around him more often is causing you to revert back to your past self. One not hardened by betrayal and pain. What a dangerous man…

[sammyluvr]

✶ green couch — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, younger sibling!reader, fluffy hurt/comfort, mentions of arguing, unedited, 898 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a green, velvet couch + “i don’t say it enough, but i care about you. a lot.”

a green, velvet couch sounds like something fancy and desirable, maybe like it belongs in the home of some wealthy person’s well curated home. this one smells a bit musty, is falling into disrepair, and resides in bobby’s cluttered living room. regardless, you think it deserves some merit for the fact that it’s still so soft after many years of use and admittedly poor care. it’s not even lumpy, and is a surprisingly nice place to fall asleep when one is avoiding their overprotective older brothers.

you are trusted to be alright most of the time. you have all of the skills that you need to keep yourself safe, but it doesn’t stop sam or dean from worrying. it’s just that you didn’t expect to get any shit about it from sam today. dean is more likely to overreact about something like this, but sam must be extra on edge today.

honestly, you’re not even completely sure what it was that he got upset about, just that it was something about this last hunt. either way, it was all frustrating enough that you abandoned the cot in the room you usually share with sam here, and have migrated to your favorite couch of the house. the sun is long set, and you fall asleep there, knees bent to accommodate the size of the couch and neck tilted up as your head presses into the armrest. you’ll be sore in the morning, but you’re as stubborn as sam and already fast asleep anyway.

the clock on the wall ticks softly, marking 2:17 a.m. when sam finally comes back inside. you’d argued in the gravel driveway, and when you stormed back into the house, sam took to sitting alone on the hood of some dysfunctional car for hours.

he treads lightly as he lets himself back into the house, not wanting to wake anyone, but most especially you. he’s sure you’re tired after the hunt and subsequent argument, which he’s felt bad about since the moment he raised his voice at all. he doesn’t notice you when he passes by the living room, the shadows and wide back cushion of the couch keeping you hidden from his view. but he enters the bedroom where you should be sleeping and immediately notices your absence. he calls your name softly, then turns on his heel, mind already wheeling with worst case scenarios. he checks dean’s room and the bathroom before rushing back down the stairs. he’ll wake dean if he can’t find you in the house.

he keeps his voice quiet as he continually calls your name, not panicking just yet. he’s glad he kept quiet when he spots you on the couch, cheek squished against the armrest and day clothes mussed. a sigh of relief leaves his lips, and another rush of guilt floods his chest.

his feet carry him softly to you, silent to keep you sleeping. he crouches in front of you, the faint sound of muffled music meeting his ears. you’ve fallen asleep with one earbud in, the wires leading to your ipod all tangled. with quiet, slow hands, he slips the ipod from where it had begun to disappear in the crack between cushions. his big thumb almost presses skip instead of pause, but the music stops. your sleep is deep enough that the change doesn’t make you stir one bit. now, all sam can hear is your soft, even breathing and the ticking of the clock.

he gently pulls the earbuds away from your sleeping form and wraps the wires neatly around the ipod before setting it on the carpet and returning his gaze to your face.

“jesus, kid, i’m sorry,” he whispers, a light frown on his lips. your short sleeved shirt catches his attention and his frown deepens. it gets cold at night here, and the downstairs isn’t as good at retaining heat than the rooms above. he shrugs his brown jacket off and carefully settles it over you, its fabric warm with his body heat. his expression softens when the warmth pulls a soft sigh from your lips and you seem to settle a bit more than before.

he waits a little while to see if you’ll wake. he’d rather you sleep in a bed tonight; he’ll give up the bigger one for you if you want. but he’d also hate to disrupt your sleep. you’ve always had an affinity for this couch anyway. so when you stay fast asleep, he brings you down a blanket from his bed and promises to apologize when you’re awake in the morning.

his hand lingers over the top of your head after making sure you’ll be warm enough, and his voice is soft and sincere. “i don’t say it out loud enough, but i care about you. a lot. i’ll go into town and buy you a good breakfast in the morning.”

a few hours later, you get too hot. half asleep, you kick the poor blanket off and it falls to the floor in a heap. but you curl your fingers into the thick material of sam’s jacket, not needing to open your eyes to recognize the familiar texture. sturdy on the outside edge, but the lining a bit softer. for a work jacket, it’s quite comfortable to sleep with. more than anything, it’s comforting and a very appropriate beginning to an apology.

[shinayashipper]

i need to find other jobs... But I can't let go of this one yet... maybe more freelance work... but idk... I dont think I have the time hhh they keep saying I should make more Money QwQ or make my own business. just... more Money. idontknoww QwQ im running out of time. if i reached 30 it's all over for me and Everyone in my extended families and the neighbors will Talk abt Me, The Failure Daughter who can't have enough money and marry a decent man

[cicada-candy]

I get the sense that Nina is gonna haunt the next season.