#if this doesn’t get nasty what are we doing as a community

[rowanthestrange]

The TARDIS has been fucking Sutekh for literal millennia, someone better be writing the fanfic where the Doctor just has to learn to accept his new daddy and when I say accept I mean-

[hyunebunx]

maybe it's not our fault - chapter 01

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─▸ ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 10k

╰─▸ ❝chapter 02

a/n: it's here!! special thank you to my croissant baby laure @byunfirstlady (this wouldn't be a me story if i didn't mention her somehow fgfdgh) for reading this for me before posting!! since this is the first chapter, things might feel a little slow, but dw, it will all pick up soon! enjoy <33 and do let me know your thoughts after reading <3

“That is not going to fit!”

He scoffs, already annoyed. “Yes, it is! Just move over a little.”

“A little? I’m already stretched the fuck out! What more do you want from me?”

“Seohyun, I swear to fucking God – “

She yelps, most likely cramping. “Just pull it out, you dumbass – “

“What the hell is going on in here?”

You and Chan stop dead in your tracks, confused at the scene currently playing out in front of your very eyes. You were gone downstairs for less than ten minutes to get the rest of your stuff, with you and Chan carrying a box each that held the essentials to ensure this move went smoothly. And in that time frame, your two other best friends have already managed to be at each other’s throats.

The front door of your apartment was wide open, with dumb and dumber currently looking like two deers caught in headlights on opposite sides, separated by an old armchair whose springs had become a death trap over the years. Last year, when you held parties here, someone was always left standing — it was either the cursed chair or the floor, with most guests picking the latter once they were drunk enough.

“Uh, hi?” Jisung greets, forcing a smile onto boyish features that haven’t changed much since you met almost seven years ago, in high school.

Bewiled, you set the box down by Chan’s feet and approach. “Are you guys, okay? What happened?”

Whistling, Jisung tries to pretend he has everything under control. He doesn’t, he never does, that’s just the type of guy he was. “Duh, we’re fantastic! Everything is under control, don’t even – “

Called it.

“For the love of god, just shut up and let them help us already!” Seohyun barks from the other side, prompting you to peek in to see her straighten her posture, rubbing her wrists in obvious discomfort. With a sigh and a glare from Jisung who steps back to allow Chan to take his place, she explains. “We were trying to get this chair out to make room for the new one.”

Chuckling, Chan inspects the door frame while you pass Seohyun one of the boxes right over the ugly, red chair that’s seen better days. “And it got stuck?”

“Yes, because Jisung didn’t want to listen – “

“Or maybe because you started pushing when I wasn’t ready, like an idiot.” He counters instantly, never one to back out from a fight instigated by Seohyun. Not to be fooled, these two were as close as can be, the bickering reflective of their special bond.

You and Chan share a look as they start again, amusement clear in gentle, doe eyes that have comforted you numerous times over the years. Meeting back in the summer before high school, you and Chan have been attached at the hip ever since, clicking as pre-teens and growing up together, maturing down the same path that’s led you to the same university, and even the same major you also shared with Jisung. Music production has always been a passion of yours, so getting to fulfil that dream with your absolute best friend by your side was a blessing you couldn’t be more thankful for.

“Alright.” Chan stops their bickering, one hand landing on Jisung’s shoulder to get his attention. “Stand on it.”

“Pardon?” Jisung blinks at him, as confused as you and Seohyun were, not sure he heard Chan right.

Smiling, Chan squeezes his shoulder. “So, you can step on the backrest and make it fall over. It will be easier to move afterwards.”

“You think so?” He asks, biting down on his bottom lip, not confident in the slightest.

Your best friend nods, giving his bottom an encouraging pat. “Positively. Now go on, I don’t want to spend my whole day in this hallway.”

Seohyun scrambles back, unwilling to get caught in between Jisung and the chair, giving him enough room to do what he must to free her exit.

Watching the whole scene unfold has you smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep your laughter at bay once Jisung realizes the task isn’t as dangerous as he expected. It’s anticlimactic, more than anything, as he gets on top of the chair to step on the backrest, going down slowly without even losing his balance.

He blinks, barely realizing it’s over before making eye contact with Seohyun who bursts out laughing like she’s been holding it in since the beginning. The three of you join in quickly after, your delight bouncing off the hallway walls and lifting the spirits tremendously.

After all, nobody in existence was ever excited for summer to end and classes to start again, with a new, even more demanding schedule than last year. You were in your third year now and things were bound to get difficult the closer you got to graduating.

This silly moment was exactly what you needed to start the new year right, sure it would become a core memory later down the line when you’d all be working adults, with even more responsibilities and nonexistent free time. The sight of Chan dragging the armchair out, without any difficulty whatsoever as Jisung and Seohyun’s jaws hit the floor, incredulous he didn’t struggle like they did, was sure to bring a smile to your face for years to come.

When your only access to the apartment was finally free, the four of you gathered inside with the remaining boxes.

“You weren’t kidding, you do have all of your stuff here.” Seohyun hums, scanning her surroundings, and her new home. The apartment was yours. You moved in just last year and you’ve lived by yourself until now, when you welcomed her with open arms and a little too much excitement.

“Yeah.” You nod, already moving around to put the scattered things back in their rightful places. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t bother cleaning up before leaving.”

The living room was fine – your bedroom was the one that suffered the most, already dreading the thought of having to dig through all the mess to find most of your things.

The apartment was a gift from your parents, after successfully finishing your first year of university living in a dorm. Sure, having your own space was great, but you’d never trade that first year for anything in the world. That’s where you meet Seohyun after all, growing closer and closer with every sleepless night you spent together giggling and talking about everything under the sun, not feeling the hours tick by until one of your alarms would ring, signalling the start of a new day.

It was big, too spacious for only one person to live in, with two bedrooms and a bathroom straight out of an interior design magazine. Even though Seohyun didn’t move in until now, you were never truly alone with Jisung and Chris living right next door. Someone was always keeping you company, which you were thankful for, in more ways than one.

Already moving about like they owned the place, Chris and Jisung were helping you tidy up, with the latter moving to check for anything rotten in the kitchen. With four pairs of hands on deck, it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes for everything to be back to normal, leaving you to take care of the dusting.

“Alright.” Chan stands, carrying two trash bags. “Ji, let’s go get the armchair.”

Jisung follows before Seohyun calls after them. “Right, is it in your car?”

“I thought it was in yours?” He turns around, stopping in the doorway while Chan is already busy calling the elevator, further away.

You see her brows furrow, setting the duster down before grabbing her car keys. “Nope.”

The ding of the elevator gets your attention, and they share a look before hurrying after Chan, in search of said armchair, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud. You lived high up, on the 10th floor – nobody was ever willing to take the stairs and waste that much time.

And so, in the blink of an eye, you are left alone in the apartment that held so many of your memories, beautiful moments you wouldn’t trade even in exchange for forgetting the sad ones.

You feel a little lost, staring around like you couldn’t recognize your own home, shoulders slumping with a deep sigh. Your gaze moves towards your closed bedroom door, feet following before your hand twists the doorknob and you’re engulfed in sunlight, blinking rapidly to adjust to the change in lighting.

Inside, the sight that greets you seems frozen in time, transporting you back in June to the last moments spent in this room, where you were running around to pack in a hurry. You don’t dare move, just taking it all in as memories flood your mind and make your heart ache in your chest, what still remains of it, anyway.

All of your stuff thrown around haphazardly painted a picture you didn’t enjoy, yet couldn’t look away from either. Your bed remained unmade, with piles of clothing, bags and random objects occupying all the space. Framed photographs were thrown everywhere around the room, just so they would stop glaring at you from their place on your nightstand, face down and most likely damaged by the broken glass. The vase on your dresser, which used to stand tall with beautiful, healthy flowers seemed to have lost its color, struggling to fulfil its purpose because of the dried, mouldy peonies you didn’t bother throwing out before leaving.

But what’s even worse than the mess is what tipped you over the edge back then, falling to your knees on the fluffy, white carpet as you sobbed uncontrollably – the things he left behind were still here, in the exact same spots, in pristine condition. Your room looked like it barely survived the hurricane that shared your name, yet his red cap was still resting quietly next to the flowers he got you. One of his sketchbooks, still opened on that drawing he never got to finish as he got too busy with school, was on the other nightstand, on his side of the bed. A pair of his dancing shoes were by the door, right next to your comfy slippers. They have been there for so long, that you couldn’t enter your room without tripping over them and be reminded of his presence every single time. Hell, you bet if you checked right now, his toothbrush will still be next to yours in the cute holder you bought together, his razor not far away.

There were traces of him everywhere you looked in this apartment, clothes and necessities he left behind on his many visits. Like his football jersey, lucky number 20, you’ve worn more times than him, hung in your open closet among empty hangers that barely held on.

It wasn’t fair, how you seemed to crumble along with everything around you while he, and his stupid things, remained intact. The world shattered beneath your feet, freefalling to your doom of self-doubts and regrets while he continued with his life like nothing even happened. Like you never happened; like you weren’t such a fundamental part in his life in the exact same way he was in yours.

Your ex boyfriend moved on in the blink of an eye, while you were still here, crying at the sight of a stupid toothbrush.

This will never be fair. Why did you always seem to draw the short end of the stick?

New beginnings were usually your favorite. Starting another book, turning a new leaf and switching up your wardrobe for a change, getting the inspiration for another song – these were all activities that brought you joy. Now, returning to campus at the end of summer vacation to begin another school year? For the first time since starting university two years ago, felt like an impossible task, one you weren’t ready for in the slightest. Because how could you ever be ready to start your junior year without him?

How could you possibly embark on a new journey without him holding your hand and guiding you through it all, navigating around every hardship with ease like he was the most experienced sailor in existence?

You had no answers, only questions. Too many that were also too loud, bouncing off of the sturdy walls of your mind that were threatening to crumble with every thud, remaining standing only thanks to the unbearable headaches that reminded you to take a break from all the overthinking.

Your mind went quiet as another voice made its presence known, bringing you back to the world outside your bedroom while shooing the dark cloud above your head out the window with ease.

“Oh my god, we lost the goddamn chair!”

A wet laugh escaped your lips, more tears rolling down your cheeks as you desperately tried to wipe them all before joining your friends in the living room. You weren’t stupid – they were worried. That’s why Seohyun was moving in, in the first place. To keep an eye on you at all times, when the other two couldn’t be there and provide the much needed support you craved so badly.

Not like they knew you were aware of their little plan, having them figured out from the moment they showed up at Chan’s doorstep in Australia, last month. They’ve been tiptoeing around you since then, not knowing what emotional state you were in or what’s changed or hasn’t in the two months you spent apart. Sure, Chris might have filled them in, but they were still afraid. Afraid they were going to mess up somehow and have you slipping through their fingers and shatter at any moment, like you were nothing more than a fragile package, all progress lost the second something that reminded you of him jumped into your path.

And, you hate to admit but they were right.

They failed to take into consideration that even though your ex never actually moved in, the apartment was his as much as it was yours, quickly becoming your shared home as you fell into a routine that involved the other at every step.

Your three close friends were the only people present, but all you could see was him, a ghost roaming around and haunting every corner of the house you now despised, his giggles caressing your ears gently every time you moved from one room to the other.

Just being here felt like torture. How were you supposed to spend another two years sleeping in the same bed you shared with the person you thought was going to be your forever?

“Sweetheart.” Chan’s gentle voice coaxes you out of the room as you manage to pull yourself together, no sign of crying or distress still present on your features. If anything, they looked worse than you, crestfallen and a little embarrassed.

“We have something to tell you.” Seohyun steps closer, gently taking your hands into hers and intertwining your fingers loosely.

Jisung nods and is by your side in a second, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he lowers his mouth to your ear. “Chris lost your new armchair.”

“What the fuck?!”

Your laughter joins theirs, a beat later, as Chris remains the only one standing there, arms crossed over his chest with his words falingl on deaf ears, nobody paying attention as he begins defending himself.

When you’re pulled into a warm embrace, with Jisung’s cologne enveloping all your senses, you can’t help but start wondering. Is this a good time to finally reveal you never actually ordered a new chair or…?

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

Saturday slipped away into a moment in time, and before you knew it, Sunday was upon you. Your last chance at relaxing before the craziness began, and you’d be thrust into a series of new projects, classes and assignments that were already giving you a headache.

Despite spending the previous night celebrating a new beginning with your best friends, having an intimate pizza party with karaoke and a little too much alcohol, you wake up bright and early to get to a previously made appointment. Usually, you wouldn’t go anywhere for the summer, for the first two months anyway. But since you flew out of the country as soon as your exams were over, you didn’t get to help the animal shelter you have been volunteering at since your first year. It left a hole in your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel guilty for disappearing into thin air, with nothing more than a text sent to the owner to let her know you’ll be going away for a while.

Hopefully, they’re willing to forgive and forget and let you make up for it by spending the next two months as involved as possible.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Comes Chan’s groggy voice, still husky from all the singing he did last night, stumbling out of your spare bedroom with barely open eyes.

You startle, losing your balance while putting on your other shoe and crashing into the wall by the front door. You were hoping to make a swift escape and return before any of them rose since nobody in their right mind would willingly wake up this early.

He appears from around the corner, tank top slightly raised as he’s trying to scratch at his back. “You good?”

“Yep, everything’s just peachy.” Regaining your footing, you manage to put your shoe on and turn your back to him to get a jacket, feeling too awkward to make eye contact right now, which Chan would have laughed about if he wasn’t so sleepy.

“Where are you going?” He yawns, turning to squint at the clock on the far wall, above the couch. “It’s literally 7 am, too early to even be alive right now.”

For some reason, you hesitate to tell him, too out of it for your, and most definitely his liking. Being here was certainly not doing you any good, the walls closing in every time you tried to breathe and lift all the broken pieces of your stupid heart off of your lungs. It felt suffocating, especially when you were left alone with your thoughts as you zoned out one too many times.

Still, you mumble under your breath, reaching for your keys as silently as possible.

“Huh?”

With a sigh, you finally face him, eyes downcast. “Furry Friends Rescue.”

The smile that stretches across his features as he processes your words is so wide and contagious, it brightens up the whole room like he was somehow related to the sun itself, light radiating off of him in waves. It wakes him up instantly, and before you know it, he slips into a pair of slides left by the door and flies to his apartment.

You look after him, confused, and step into the hallway at the same time he does.

“Alright, let’s go!” He beams, locking his door before reaching for your arm softly. “I’ll drive you!”

“Wait, are you sure? I can – “

“Yes, I’m sure!” He frowns, shaking his head and pulling you after him with his newfound energy. “You love it there, and I know you already miss Berry. The least I can do is offer you a ride, are you kidding?”

You can’t help but smile at the mention of his puppy, spirits lifted in an instant. She was such a special little lady and you really bonded in these three months you’ve spent at his parents’ house.

Your parents never allowed you to have a pet, with your mom being allergic, so you did what you could to fill the space that remained constantly empty in your heart.

The drive there is full of laughter and even more singing, with Chris bringing back one of the activities you loved doing since he first got his license back in high school. Carpool karaoke has always been a must in his car, and that’s why you rode with Seohyun on your way back from the airport yesterday. You were a fool because nothing was quite as therapeutic as being silly and singing Disney songs at the top of your lungs with the only person who’s watched you grow into the adult you are today.

The drive to your destination isn’t long, but you still manage to squeeze in five songs before you get off and Chris speeds off. Only after wishing you a good day and making you promise you’ll call once you’re done so he can come pick you up, too. He was too kind, willing to do too much for you sometimes, but you were just the same. You’re afraid you might try moving the moon if he asked, one day.

Your annoying, overprotective brother who wasn’t really your brother, who’d push you into the pool before jumping in to save you in the same breath. He was such a guy.

Approaching with a prep to your step, the shelter’s surroundings have changed drastically since your last visit. The trees in the back have dyed their leaves in warm shades of orange and yellow, scattering some on the ground in hopes of attracting more pet lovers. A beautiful background always pulled people in, just like all pretty things did, and this autumn is particularly beautiful, with sights straight out of famous paintings. Seoul was truly a special city, one that’s nurtured and taught you the meaning of the word love that’s being thrown around too casually for your taste, these days. The city you grew up in, where you found your love for writing and composing, and where you met the most amazing people on this planet.

No other city could compare to your birthplace, no matter how pretty or modern it was.

Just as you make to try the door, with your apology speech all ready to go, it suddenly opens and forces you to take a few steps back in surprise.

“I’m sorry, we aren’t open yet.” The apology comes from a tall man, whose delicate features would have fooled you into believing he wasn’t older than a high schooler. Yet his physique begs to differ, you could tell even from beneath all the layers. He’s wearing the shelter’s apron with the logo you’ve had Jisung design a few years back. A new employee, perhaps? You don’t recognize him, so that’s most likely the case.

Your gaze travels upwards until it meets his brown eyes that fidget at the sudden contact. “Sorry, I’m here to see Mrs. Jeon?”

The stranger shakes his head, bleached blond hair hiding an undercut following his every move. “Mrs. Jeon is out of the country.”

You wait for him to continue, provide more details but when he doesn’t and only raises a brow that almost asks ‘what are you still doing here?’ you sigh and turn to leave. “Right. Will you please tell her Y/n has stopped by?”

“Wait, Y/n L/n?”

You turn right on your heel, both of your eyebrows raised as if to challenge his. “Do I know you?”

He brings his hands up, showing he means no harm as a smile finds his rosy lips, one you don’t truly grasp the meaning of. “No! But I know you.”

Alright, now you’re properly creeped out. Noticing the look on your face, the man quickly corrects himself, letting out an awkward laugh as he rubs the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not good with strangers. Mrs. Jeon does! I was recruited in your place when you didn’t come back in June.”

Oh, so he was your replacement. Great. You had no idea you’d entered a race to see how fast people and places you frequented could replace you during the summer. Very motivating and uplifting. You should have stayed home.

“Oh.” Despite all the thoughts overlapping each other in your head, you only manage to sigh, properly exhausted.

His eyes widen slightly, and without thinking, he grasps your elbow when you turn around to leave for good. “Please do come in! Mrs. Jeon has been waiting to hear from you. She left a note.”

“A note?” When he nods, you shake off his hand and accept the invitation, stepping inside filled with curiosity.

All of the furry friends were in the back, in a separate space away from the reception. The place was modern, decorated in warm, pastel colors that seemed to welcome you with a fuzzy hug, the surroundings pristine. Furry Friends Rescue was built from the ground up by Mrs Jeon’s late husband, who passed away a few years back, right after you started volunteering here. To honor his life, she kept this place running, making it her mission to find loving homes for all the animals that were brought in, investing most of her resources into modernizing the place and treating the animals like they deserved to be treated.

The shelter housed a veterinary office and a pet salon, run by other volunteers who were experts in their fields, students alike and even working people who would come by to offer a helping hand whenever they could. Mr Jeon was a vet – he used to treat all of the animals before he fell sick and became unable to work.

Making his way around the reception desk, which truly resembled the entrance of a corporation, even with all the pet pictures plastered on all the walls, and the dog pattern on the couch, the man picks up a note that was next to the bone-shaped phone.

“Here.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the small paper from him, but you don’t pay any attention to the slight color that appears on his cheeks.

Dear Y/n,

I hope your precious heart managed to heal during your trip

What fitting words for someone who had no idea why you left in the first place. Guess Mrs. Jeon knew you better than you thought, after all.

If you’re reading this, it means I have not yet returned from visiting my grandbabies. It also means Jaemin is the one looking after the place

Please work together until I’m back. He’s a nice kid and I believe you’ll get along well

That is if you’re still willing to return. Always put yourself first. If quitting is what you think is best, just know I’ll never hold it against you

With love, grandma J

P.S. there’s a surprise on the other side 😊

Curious, you flip over the page, eyes scanning the familiar handwriting to decipher what has she left you. A giggle escapes you soon after, shaking your head with fondness spilling from your eyes at her antics. You’re glad that after everything she’s been through, Mrs. Jeon has never changed.

“Is something funny?” The guy you’ve come to learn is named Jaemin asks from the other side of the desk, head tilted slightly in wonder making him resemble an actual puppy.

You dismiss him with a wave of your wrist, pocketing the note. Mrs. J’s brownie recipe you could never get enough of wouldn’t interest him anyway.

“So, you’re Jaemin?” You finally ask, giving him a once-over. He was tall, wearing a denim-on-denim outfit and smiled a little too brightly for your liking. Still, he did look like a nice guy, so you might as well give him a chance, even if meeting someone knew was the last thing you wanted to do.

As expected, he beams, thrusting a hand forward over the desk. “That’s me! Nice to meet you, Y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You give him a small but genuine smile and shake his hand. “I’m a third year at SNU so I usually volunteer here during summer vacation. I hope we get along.”

He nods, listening to your every word. “Yeah, Mrs. Jeon mentioned we go to the same university. I’m a second year majoring in dance! I’m also a part of the football team so I apologize in advance if I ever end up leaving you here all alone when the season starts.”

Oh, what were the odds?

Your smile drops despite your effort in not reacting, retracting your hand a little too quickly while nodding and trying to act as normal as possible. “Cool.”

Turning around, you begin walking in the opposite direction to escape from this awkward situation Mrs. J has unknowingly put you in.

“Shall we go see the animals?”

He’s on your tail soon after, grabbing another apron on the way for you with that ever present sunny smile of his. Jaemin reminded you of a hyperactive puppy, a golden retriever who would do anything to make you happy, pulling silly stunts and stumbling over his own feet.

Turns out, his bright personality isn’t the only reason Mrs. J has hired Jaemin. You spend the next four hours together, taking care of the animals and talking, to your surprise. They all seemed to love him already, causing a ruckus at the mere sight of him, excited to be let out and greet you both properly.  The puppies especially as they’d run back and forth from you to him without stopping for a while, barely managing to bottle feed them in their excitement. Jaemin was nice, and easy to talk to, happy to get to know you but also talk your ear off when sensing you might need a laugh, managing to make everything funny. A great pick me up, you ended up agreeing with Mrs J’s statement – he was a good guy, the best that could have replaced you and helped her and all the staff in your absence.

For some reason, he felt comfortable opening up to you, and in turn, you told him some things about yourself too.

“What made you want to volunteer here?” He suddenly asks while cradling a noisy kitten, the sight comical.

You barely think before answering, gaze still trained on the bichon that has fallen asleep in your lap while you were brushing her. “I wasn’t allowed to have pets growing up, and I’ve always loved them. I was lucky my best friend had the most adorable puppy in the world right next door, but it wasn’t the same as owning one, you know?”

Jaemin nods, finally calming the kitten, eyes on you. “Oh, that sucks. I couldn’t imagine life without my two babies at home.”

You look up, curious. “You have dogs?”

“Two cats.” He throws a peace sign, chuckling when you smile. “I’m from Busan, so I only get to see them on holidays. I thought coming here and helping out four days a week might help me miss them less.”

“And? Does it help?” You point to the kitten that has fallen asleep in his arms, head crocked to the side weirdly. Looking down, he laughs and sets her in his lap, using his knuckles to gently pet between her ears, one of his hands as big as her whole body.

“It does, actually.” He smiles absentmindedly, most likely reminiscing about his fur babies. “But only momentarily. When I’m back in my dorm room, I still feel their absence.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you say, a deep pang of sadness hitting you out of nowhere. You guess this is how Chris and Jisung feel as well, both away from their respective dogs they’ve more or less grown up with.

Jaemin shakes his head, still smiling and not as sad as you’d thought he’d be. “None of that. I facetime my mom every night just to see them.”

“That’s cute.” A smile finds its way on your face as you imagine him using the same baby voice he uses with the animals here on the phone with his mom, cooing at his cats.

“You’re cute.”

An uncharacteristic silence falls upon you as Jaemin searches for your gaze, dying to understand your reaction. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just weird, making you feel like you were doing something wrong. Which made no sense. Jisung and Chan called you cute all the time; not out of nowhere, but when the moment was right. Heck, Seohyun would write entire pages praising your beauty whenever you posted on Instagram – you knew you were cute. But this was different, this was someone that meant it romantically, you could tell. He was flirting with you, shooting his shot and seeing where it landed.

That wasn’t something you could reciprocate, especially not now.

When he notices the look in your eyes, the storm brewing behind them, he adds. “I was talking about Belle over there.”

You look down at Belle, the fluffy bichon in your lap, who is currently sleeping soundly on her back, tummy up and randomly kicking her feet once in a while, dreamland surely rowdy.

“Shut up.” You laugh a moment later, appreciating how fast he took the hint and backed off, leaning over to softly push him on the doggy mats, to which he pretends to fall just for your amusement.

With that out of the way, things return to normal quickly and before you know it, the other volunteers arrive and you’re biding Jaemin goodbye and going on your merry way, back to your apartment.

It’s afternoon now, hopefully your friends are awake by now.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

They were in fact, not awake. Jisung just moved himself from the spare bedroom he shared with Chris for the night to the living room couch to sleep some more, without having to deal with the other’s snoring. Seohyun was buried in your blanket, hiding from the world, in the same position she was in when you left that morning.

Like it or not, it seems their bodies were incapable of pulling all-nighters after doing it for so many years without suffering the day after. Hopefully, you all manage to fix your sleep schedules before your classes start properly, not wanting to miss too many and be left behind, confused out of your minds and barely figuring it out by the time exam season rolls around.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“I’m sleepy.” Seohyun complains, reaching up to rub her eyes before remembering the pretty eyeliner currently gracing her eyelids and stopping at the last second, groaning.

You giggle, full of energy from the coffee Chris made sure got into your system before your first class, swirling the ice in your cup absentmindedly, mind somewhere else.

Busy on his phone, he doesn’t even look up as he responds. “You barely made it to class this morning and you’re still complaining?”

Monday, 10:15 am. Your first class of the day officially ended fifteen minutes ago and as you’ve been doing for two years now, your friend group meet up at your favorite location, the diner closest to campus that has become some sort of sanctuary by now.

Seohyun was majoring in communication so she did not share your classes yet somehow, the four of you have started the new school year in the same way – with a boring, way too long 8 am lecture that almost erased your will to live.

She shoots him a dirty look he doesn’t notice, but otherwise doesn’t respond, too tired to bother with Chris and his top student agenda. Because being popular, good at sports and everyone’s friend wasn’t enough for him; your best friend was the academic weapon every freshman aspired to be, without trying too hard either. Hands down the most gifted and smartest person you know.

“You did go to bed super late last night.” You reach for her hand across the table, gently massaging her palm in hopes she’ll feel a bit better.

Just then, Jisung returns with your drinks, handing them out one by one like he was a barista himself. When he’s done and you all thank him, he takes his seat across from you and Chris, next to Seohyun. “What did I miss?”

“Seohyun was complaining.” Chris responds instantly, fingers typing away. What could be more interesting than spending time with your closest friends?

“Oh, so nothing new.”

At the same time, you softly smack the back of Chris’ head while she smacks Jisung, with a little more force, only the latter reacting loudly.

“Stop being mean.” You reprimand, and Chris puts his phone down with a sigh, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms above his head.

“For your information, being late was not my fault.” Seohyun chimes in, finally in the mood to explain herself after taking several sips of her coffee. “This random guy ran straight into me, I was tackled to the ground!”

Concern flashes over your features. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, don’t worry. He helped me up and gathered all of my books while apologizing. Then I met up with Ji and he carried my bag to class.”

Both you and Chris shoot Jisung a curious look, not convinced he went through all of that trouble out of the kindness of his own heart.

“In my defense,” Jisung shrugs, his arm thrown over the booth behind Seohyun’s head, “I really did not want to come to class.”

Chris chuckles and sips from his strawberry milkshake while you shake your head, smiling and pinching the back of Jisung’s hand that was resting on the table, to which he retaliates by throwing the straw paper in your face.

“To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention either so he’s not entirely to blame here.” She continues like neither of you has said anything, resting her head in her palm with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Besides, he was fucking gorgeous. I swear I’ve never seen such a beautiful man before. And his freckles? Literal constellations right on his cheeks, oh my god.”

“Okay, Juliet, pipe down.” Jisung flicks her forehead and she swats his hand away, glaring.

Amused, you lean closer with interest. “Did you get his name?”

She shakes her head. “No” Then, her gaze moves to Chris. “That’s why, I need you to find him for me.”

Raising a brow, he reaches for your drink to have a taste before responding. “What am I, the local newspaper? You’re the one who bumped into him.”

“Yes, but you literally know everyone on campus.”

He makes a face, deeming your drink too bitter for his taste. “So do you.”

That was true. Seohyun was the definition of a social butterfly, mingling with all cliques and being liked by everyone she came into contact with. However, she was also very perceptive so if someone’s vibe seemed off, she could come across as cold and aloof, not giving them the time of day.

“Please?” She continues, resorting to the infamous puppy eyes. “This guy might be the love of my life, Chris, please help me.”

“What about Mark?” Jisung buts in, giving her a questioning look. Immediately, you and Chris signal for him to cut it out, abort the ship and never utter that name for as long as he draws breath.

Seohyun’s gaze drops to her cup, manicured finger moving back and forth on the edge, pretending she didn’t hear any of the words that have left Jisung’s mouth. To his credit, Jisung looks a little guilty, arm sliding over her shoulder and squeezing briefly in a silent apology, hoping it will be enough to fix things.

The probability of this mystery guy being the love of her life was low, but Chris seemed to feel bad enough to give in, exhaling deeply. Seohyun’s track record wasn’t great – for some reason, she always fell for emotionally unavailable guys, with her latest situationship ending not too long ago once she realized Mark did not want anything serious.

She didn’t deserve all that. Seohyun was the sweetest, kindest person you knew, with a heart of gold. If anyone deserved to find true love and grow old with rosy cheeks, still feeling butterflies at the mention of her beloved’s name no matter how many years passed, it was her. And you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make that happen.

“Let’s find this pretty boy of yours.” You smile as Chris nods, enjoying the way her face gradually lights up.

“Really?”

“I’d feel like I kicked a puppy while it was down if I didn’t, so what the hell. We’ve done crazier things anyways.” Chris adds and she squeals, getting out of the booth to come over and hug him, suddenly excited.

“Oh!” She rushes back to her seat, instantly rummaging through her bag. “This is his. I think it got mixed up with my books when I dropped them. He was in a hurry.”

The three of you huddle together as she places a small notebook on the table, curious about its contents that might reveal the identity of Seohyun’s prospective new…something. Let’s hope boyfriend, and nobody that treats her less than that.

Chris is the one who dares open it, flipping through the pages in wonder.

“These are…recipes?” He blinks, drawing a blank as the measurements for the perfect ‘gooey brownies’ stare him right in the face.

None of you says anything for a moment, the gears in your head turning and working simultaneously before Jisung breaks the silence with an unexpected outburst.

“Oh my god, he’s a fucking loser!”

Safe to say, he got smacked a couple more times before your next class of the day. Lovingly, of course.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

With everyone promising to ask around for Seohyun’s prince charming, you go on with your day until your last class, when you established to meet again for a little get together with all of your other friends.

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm, golden hue that extended throughout the whole campus, creating mesmerizing surroundings you could barely look away from. Thankfully by now, you’re outside, enjoying the warm breeze and nice weather that might not return any time soon as the days will only continue to get shorter and shorter as time passes.

You’re currently near the football field, cutting through near the bleachers to get to the other side where Chris and his swimming team are currently meeting. Seohyun is skipping a few feet in front of you, obviously in good spirits.

“Didn’t know Chris needed a chaperone.” She teases, turning to you with a smile as she starts walking backwards.

You chuckle. “Well, he is our ride.”

“We could have walked.” She stretches her arms as if to prove a point. “It’s such a beautiful day! It’s a shame we have to miss out on the rest of it, too.”

You were on your way to a bar, a new one that opened all the way in Hongdae. The owner has invited 3racha, Chris and Jisung’s music group personally, so it would be rude to not show up, even if you did share her sentiment. If it were up to you, you’d be in bed, snuggling already, but your friends have made it a point to keep you out of the house as much as possible.

“Just say thank you, Seohyun.”

“Thank you, Seohyun, for being the hottest girl around!”

You both laugh, enjoying each other’s company before she turns back around and resumes her skipping, long, bleached hair flowing freely behind her in the prettiest way. As you reach for your phone to record her for memories, a speck of red gets your attention in an instant.

You keep walking but your eyes are glued to the field now, to the eight or so guys dressed in the white and red uniform of your university’s American football team. Your heart rate picks up in an instant, scanning their jersey numbers in a hurry.

Relief floods your system when you don’t find what you’re looking for, slowing down. These guys looked young, most likely freshmen trying out for a spot in the most famous football team your university has had in years. You didn’t know how that worked, your memory failed you as you tried to remember when tryouts took place. It seemed a little too early for all that though, too soon to be looking for new people when the season kicked off somewhere in October, a good month and a half away. You couldn’t help but wonder why the hurry.

“Y/n! Watch out!”

Seohyun’s screaming startles you out of your thoughts, your eyes coming into focus to see a football flying right in your direction, quickly approaching your head. Before you know it, you’re ducking and running, feeling bad for snoozing and interfering with practice. Of course, this had to happen, you were cursed after all. You could never be near a sports field without something hitting you, no matter how small or insignificant the object, it always had to make contact with your face.

However, you don’t make it very far before you come to an abrupt stop as you collide with something or better said, someone, the impact causing you to stumble a few steps back until rough, gloved hands stabilize you by the shoulders.

When you regain your footing and finally look up at your saviour, your heart actually stops.

Because the one looking back, right through you is none other than Hyunjin. Your Hyunjin.

Or actually, he wasn’t yours anymore, now, was he?

Hyunjin who’s written his name across your heart in golden letters, that suddenly lit up at the mere sight of him. Your ex-boyfriend looked almost unrecognizable, his short black hair replaced by long, bleached locks that were pushed back, away from his face in a little ponytail.

You were a fool to think he wouldn’t be here. He was the captain after all and the coach was nowhere in sight.

The air wasn’t entering your lungs anymore, yet somehow you were still breathing, being kept afloat by his familiar hands on your skin, so overly conscious of his touch that you barely registered the shiver running down your spine.

After three months apart with no communication, Hyunjin was finally looking at you, forced to acknowledge your presence. It felt a little surreal, bumping into him so soon. Sure, you were expecting it, but not on your very first day back to campus, not when you still haven’t processed the fact that you weren’t together anymore. Everything in you longed for him and all his endearing quirks, even after all this time; even after he broke your heart.

You don’t dare look away, and neither does he, enthralled by those beautiful eyes of his that used to watch your every move with so much love and care. Now, you don’t see any of these emotions, but there is an intensity to his gaze that you can’t quite put your finger on. Time always seemed to come to a stop when you were with him and right now it was no different. All of your surroundings faded, leaving him the sole object of your attention.

There was a new piercing adorning his face, right under his bleached eyebrow. It looked good, like everything he deemed worthy enough to leave a mark on his body. But that wasn’t what got your heart beating again, pounding against your ribcage at an alarming pace he was sure to hear even from afar.

Without looking away, his hands slide down your arms slowly, and for a brief moment, you think they’re going to find solace in yours, just like they’ve done for all these years. By the surprise flickering in his eyes, you believe he thought of the same thing, catching himself at the last second and taking a step back, arms falling to his side heavily.

“Yo, what the fuck was that?” A new voice has you both snapping out of it, finally allowing you to look away and escape the staring war neither had the resources to win. It’s familiar, and as someone stops right by your side, seemingly out of nowhere, there’s no doubt in your mind about his identity.

“Y/n, are you okay?

You blink, and the magic from before finally dissipates completely, almost like the spell Hyunjin has got you under broke the moment he made himself busy by reaching for his helmet on the ground. When you manage to tear your eyes from him, Yeonjun, one of his friends and teammates, comes into view and places a hand on your shoulder in concern. The ball that almost collided with your head is under his other arm, and you notice that he’s not wearing his gloves as he should be.

Eventually, you nod, looking straight into his eyes while mustering your most convincing smile. “Yeah, don’t worry. Nothing even happened.”

“It almost did.” He states, glaring towards the group of men who seemed glued on the spot. “If it weren’t for Hyunjin, things might have ended badly.”

You look away, not knowing how to act around them anymore. Hyunjin doesn’t respond either, just moves out of the way as Seohyun sprints to your rescue, pulling your body into the tightest hug and putting some distance between you and the two men.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, right?” She’s instantly checking you all over, dusting invisible dirt off your clothes before patting your head lovingly, just like a mother would do to comfort her sobbing child. Truthfully speaking, you weren’t far from turning into one, but the mortification of bursting into tears in front of all these people kept your emotions in check. You reckon a football to the face would have hurt less than having Hyunjin treat you like a stranger he’s meeting for the first time, barely reacting to your sudden appearance.

In hindsight, him reacting differently was almost impossible. Especially in the way you’d want him to react. Hyunjin had changed right before your very eyes in the last months before your relationship ended, burying his sweet and sensitive nature so deep down that you feared it might have gotten erased permanently.

Grasping her hands, you nod to calm her racing mind. “I’m fine, mom.” Then, you turn to Yeonjun again. “Sorry for interrupting practice like that. I should have been more careful.”

You hear Hyunjin scoff from somewhere behind you, still not brave enough to show his face, while Yeonjun shakes his head vehemently. “Nonsense. You did nothing wrong. Those guys though? They did plenty.”

He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before excusing himself to join said guys, voice loud and annoyed. “Who were you passing that to? Are you fucking blind or just stupid?”

Yeonjun had no authority over them, not like Hyunjin did anyway. But he was still a seasoned player, one that’s been with the team for two years, so his words carried significant weight. He was a year older than all of you yet only decided to give football a chance in his second year, joining the team at the same time as Hyunjin. Their roles on the team were the opposite of each other – while Hyunjin was on the offensive, Yeonjun was a defensive player in charge of keeping the other team as far away as possible. Yet, they clicked and worked so well together that the probability of SNU losing a game with both of them present was close to none.

Bonding outside the field proved just as easy and before you knew it, Yeonjun became one of Hyunjin’s treasured friends, bringing their envied teamwork to more events than necessary.

For these guys to have a chance before the coach, they first needed to impress these two. And one thing about Hyunjin was that he was very hard to impress, especially in the areas he excelled in.

Your eyes naturally gravitate towards him along with your thoughts, his magnetic field still as strong as always. To your utter surprise, he moved to stand a little further away, facing his potential new teammates.

“Who threw that?”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to overwhelm you, suddenly way too emotional to keep still, to manage to keep your cool and act as nonchalant as he was. You haven’t heard that voice in so long, you’re sure you’d have collapsed if he as much as uttered your name.

Your name on his tongue has always been your favorite sound, no other word ever coming close to having that same effect.

Sheepishly, one of the guys steps forward while rubbing the back of their necks, visibly taken aback by the coldness in Hyunjin’s voice.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrow just as Seohyun links her arm through yours and tugs your body closer.

“Apologize.”

“Yes, captain!” He nods instantly, bowing repeatedly in Hyunjin’s direction to show exactly how sorry he feels for disappointing him. “I’m –“

“Not to me.” Hyunjin crosses his arms over wide chest, shoulder blade plates making him look even more intimidating as he stands to his full height, rolling his eyes. “To her.”

Your eyes widen as the guy looks up, searching for you with confusion visible even through his big helmet. Hesitantly, he changes targets, stopping before you and Seohyun.

“Hyunjin – “ You manage to squeak out, hating the way your voice almost gets caught in your throat, heat rushing to your face.

“Let him apologize.” His gaze travels to you leisurely, impatience clear in usual doe eyes.

But you aren’t far behind, a little annoyed by his insistence, managing to pull yourself together to counter. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“And last I checked, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” As quick-witted as always, Hyunjin isn’t even looking at you anymore, not bothering to react in any other way, like you weren’t even worth getting annoyed at. “He made a mistake that under normal circumstances, could have cost us the game. He needs to own up to it and apologize not only to you but to his teammates as well.”

Then, the guy seems to get smaller under his sharp gaze, instantly dropping into a deep bow and obeying Hyunjin’s words to a T. “I’m so sorry for throwing the ball in your direction!” In the next second, he’s spinning around and bowing to the other guys as Seohyun struggles to keep in her laughter at his next words. “I’m sorry for being an idiot!”

To his credit, Hyunjin hasn’t addressed him as such, always one to keep things professional. Yet, you notice the slight twitch of his mouth, obviously pleased and amused as Yeonjun bursts out laughing.

The guys bow in return, and suddenly they’re all shouting apologies at each other, owning up to all of the little mistakes they’ve made up until now that might’ve inconvenienced the other in some way, feeling bad for possibly giving anyone a hard time.

Not being able to hold it in anymore, your best friend almost collapses from laughter, needing to walk it off to calm down, only to start again as she locks eyes with Yeonjun a little farther away.

You’re so taken aback that you don’t even know how to react, watching the scene before you as flabbergasted as one could get. It was wholesome to see these kids already acting like a team but a part of you couldn’t help but feel bad once it remembered none might actually get to play and represent their university on the field. Hyunjin was trying to instil some discipline into them, but at what cost? What was the point?

Just as you’re contemplating everything that happened, the eight guys suddenly stop and turn to bow in Hyunjin’s direction as well, apologizing at the same time like it’s an activity they’ve rehearsed beforehand. It gets quiet as they wait for an answer, not even daring to raise their heads and see Hyunjin’s reaction, just patiently waiting for the go ahead so they can go back to practice.

Since when was Hyunjin running this team like the fucking marines?

Despite not looking at him, when Hyunjin nods they all stand to their full heights before him, awaiting further instructions. The mood shifts, all tense and serious like they weren’t sweet and wholesome just a moment ago.

“Since none of you seem able to handle one of these yet,” he barely finishes his sentence before Yeonjun passes him the ball, catching it with ease to hold up for the others to see. It all happened so quickly and naturally, that the others most likely didn’t notice, but you did. Hyunjin isn’t using his dominant hand. “you’ll be running laps until the coach gets here. Whoever is not up for it, drop your gears – you’re out.”

You’re expecting complaints and groans in protest but instead, they all nod and succumb to their miserable fates, doing exactly what Hyunjin has instructed. A little further away, you notice Yeonjun laughing without shame, having a blast at their expense.

“Asshole.” Seohyun murmurs, rolling her eyes, and you’re unsure who she’s talking about. “Let’s go. Any more time and Chris will send his speedo wearing army out in the wild to look for us.”

You want to laugh, to agree, and turn your back on this incident and leave without a word. But you can’t, feet lodged into place like you were standing on the biggest patch of mud around.

Hyunjin’s back was already to you, form cladded in that familiar uniform you’ve felt under your fingertips for years. The 20 under his surname written in capital letters on his jersey were almost mocking you, mad for holding their twin hostage in your mess of a closet. It doesn’t matter – in a month or so, they’ll be replaced in favour of a new design that comes around every new season. Just like your presence in his life will inevitably be filled by someone else; someone better, capable of loving him at his worst.

You had so much to say, so many words eager to escape and latch onto him, to get his attention and feed from it, growing bolder and more desperate with every second spent by his side. Hyunjin always brought the best out of you – until he broke things off. Then everything just came to a stop. Like someone lifted the stylus off of a vinyl before the song got the chance to come to an end, damaging the record and your ears in the process.

You loved music but suddenly, your life was quiet.

Hyunjin has been your muse for the entirety of your relationship, all of your songs based on him and the love that managed to blossom thanks to your shared effort. The butterflies and the fireworks all faded without a trace, making your music sound bland and meaningless, off-key since the one who inspired it was no longer there.

You wanted to call out his name, get him to stop and not leave you behind again but you didn’t know how, unable to without bursting into tears and breaking down for everyone to see. Hyunjin has been a part of your life for so many years, how were you ever supposed to start acting like he never was? Erasing him and the mark he left would surely be impossible without a potion of sorts, some Eternal Sunshine mechanism that will ensure your brain will be tricked into believing he was never here, to begin with.

Seohyun is off to the side, giving you the space needed to put your thoughts in order, for your next move. This was your chance, the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t run after him no matter how loudly your heart was screaming in protest.

So, you turn around and latch onto your best friend as she begins pulling you along, quick to come to your rescue as always. Struggling to keep it together, with tears welling up in your eyes, you miss the way he turns to look in your direction one more time. One last time.

You’ve always believed Hyunjin was the love of your life, the one you’d grow old holding hands with.

Now, your perspective has changed, as did the main character role he has played in your story for the past five years. No longer was he the charming male lead, the prince coming in on a white horse to swoop you off your feet in a grand gesture of romance.

Hyunjin was the loss of your life. The one that managed to get away even with the tight grip you’ve tried to keep on his heart.

Hyunjin transformed into a background character that won’t be there for the ride, and won’t get to witness the new developments happening from now on in your life.

You would have rather been the one written off the story if it meant keeping him. Unfortunately, that was not a possibility since without you, there wouldn’t be a story to begin with.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

[aquaquadrant]

What I'd give to know what Jimmy said to Timmy during that conversation to reassure him

this is a very old ask and referring to part x of from eden, when jimmy and tango first met timmy. while tango was chewing bravo out, the bird boys were off in a huddle. this is that huddle.

~*~

“bravo! did you- oh.” timmy breaks off mid-sentence, every other thought flying clear out of his mind as he stares at his counterpart.

there’s no one else it could possibly be. timmy knows this instinctively, as instinctively as he first knew his own name was timmy despite the username ‘animositygaming’ glaring up at him from his communicator. as instinctively as he first knew that being called ‘jimmy’ by others as a joke felt wrong for reasons he couldn’t articulate- until now.

“oh,” he breathes, his voice small even to his own ears. “i see… you must be jimmy.”

“and you’re timmy,” his counterpart says softly, in a voice ten times stronger and richer than timmy’s despite the identical cadence, “aren’t you? gosh…”

(they’re finally meeting!)

(it’s about time.)

(a tale of two jimmys!)

the old voices in timmy’s head have been far more active lately than they were over the last several years. they’d visit from time to time, typically only whenever something interesting happened to him at spawn. of course, ‘interesting’ tended to mean ‘unfortunate for his personal wellbeing.’ the voices added insult to injury whenever a spawn camper or wandering ruffian decided to take out their anger on him, finding a nasty sort of satisfaction in his pain.

but he never paid much attention to the voices, because they’d only ever tell him things he already knew: he’s weak, he’s pathetic, and he deserves every awful thing that’s ever happened to him.

since reuniting with bravo, there’s been a surge of activity from the voices. they seem to take particular interest in bravo, all the things he says and does, reacting with amusement or excitement. every hard-won battle against the mercenaries hunting them, every new development with his redstone portal, every tense engagement with mr. instinct- it’s almost entertaining to them, timmy thinks.

and they love to tell timmy that bravo doesn’t really care about him, that timmy is just a novelty that bravo will grow tired of, that he’s not good enough to be worth all this effort.

“timmy!” bravo hisses, panic and guilt written across his face. “i told you to wait for me to come get you!”

as if timmy needed the voices to tell him that.

his counterpart, jimmy, is better in every imaginable way. he stands several inches taller than timmy- not due to an actual height difference, but because of his posture. he’s more confident, less closed-off; his back straight and his broad shoulders set back. and they are broad; his frame is filled and muscular, no hollows in his cheeks, no sharp angles to his bones. healthy tanned skin perfectly complements his golden hair and deep brown eyes, with no dark circles to speak of. there are however some fresh cuts and bruises that must’ve been bravo’s doing (he’s a good fighter, not like timmy) but jimmy’s only perceivable flaw is the scar across his crooked nose- which, in timmy’s opinion, just makes him look rugged.

his hair is short, timmy realizes. not as short as his own after bravo took a pair of shears to it, but much shorter than the unkempt state timmy previously let his fall into. and with that, it all falls into place.

“sorry,” timmy murmurs, “i was just… gosh, i- everythin’ makes sense now…” he turns to bravo, apologetic and understanding. “i… get why i wasn’t good enough.”

he’d wondered why bravo even bothered bringing him from spawn, why he’d put up with his uselessness all this time just to be disappointed- beyond the usual kind, that is. there was some sort of hidden expectation that timmy just couldn’t meet, and now he knows why.

(and the truth comes out!)

(see, we tried to warn you…)

(how does it feel, knowing you were just a second-rate replacement?)

bravo cringes. “no, no i- i didn’t mean-”

“ey, c’mere mate,” jimmy interrupts, crossing the distance to timmy in just a couple strides. “it’s alright. ignore him a second, hey?”

jimmy fans a wing out to block them from the others, a curtain of sorts, and timmy can’t help but admire it. the feathers are all full and smooth at the edges, rippling with a golden sheen that catches every stray bit of torchlight. they look like they’d be soft to the touch. unconsciously, timmy tucks his own raggedy wings even closer to his body.

“you alright?” jimmy asks, quieter now. “i- i gotta say, this is a bit of a surprise, isn’t it?”

that might be an attempt at shared humor. timmy chances a look up at him, shoulders hitched by his ears. “so, we’re… counterparts?” he ventures hesitantly. that’s one of the words bravo’s used to describe tango- that and doppelgänger, clone, and some others he’d rather not think about.

“seems that way.” jimmy exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i- i’m so sorry you’ve been trapped in this horrible place, i only just found out about counterparts but i swear, i was gonna come for you. it’s just- there was a lot goin’ on, and we had to work out the portal thing…” he winces. “i’m sorry, that- that sounds lame.”

“it’s alright,” timmy whispers, tilting his head. strange, that jimmy seems to have placed that responsibility on himself. “not… your fault.”

“what happened to you?” jimmy asks, voice filled with sorrow and eyes shining with empathy. “i mean, how- how’d you get like this?”

(emaciated and disgusting, you mean?)

(even more pathetic than you!)

timmy wrings his hands, suddenly feeling a rush of shame at his haggard appearance. “hels is… too dangerous, for people like me. i learned spawn is safer, even if… there isn’t any food.” he glances over his shoulder and past jimmy’s wing, where bravo and tango are speaking in hushed voices on the other side of the cave. “that’s where bravo found me.”

here jimmy pauses. his eyes dart about in a very particular way; scanning timmy intently while simultaneously trying to not look like it. “does he treat you alright?” he asks, his voice low and careful.

“he… treats me as good as he’s able,” timmy answers with a sad smile, stretching out a wing to glance at the shorn flight feathers he knows jimmy’s already noticed. “he was tryin’ to help, honest.”

(busted!)

something dark flashes in jimmy’s eyes, making timmy’s heart jolt- to think someone could get so upset on his behalf! “oh, don’t you worry, we’ll get that all sorted,” jimmy says firmly, before quickly softening again. “but for now, can i just say… i’m so glad i got to meet you.”

timmy blinks. “… what?”

jimmy spreads his hands, shoulders bowing forward as his wings draw in. “i dunno how this whole thing works, if you’re actually a part of me or not- or i a part of you, y’know, it- it goes both ways. but i just think…” he smiles then, and it’s kind and warm and a little bit blinding, just like the fabled sun, and says, “gosh, how special it is… to meet someone like me.”

(well, that’s certainly… a take.)

(aw, they’re kind of sweet… in a pathetic way.)

(birds of a feather, these two.)

despite himself, timmy feels his own smile- a real, genuine smile- spread across his face. “yeah, same here.”

jimmy brightens at that, reaching out to put a hand on timmy’s shoulder. the movement is careful and gentle, so unlike what timmy’s used to, and he thinks he’d be content to stay like this forever even if the mere weight of jimmy’s hand is starting to drag him off balance.

“we’ll look after ya, mate,” jimmy says, “i promise. now, let’s set a few things straight with bravo, shall we?”

“alright,” timmy replies softly.

(wow, never thought there could be a player worse than jimmy at practically everything.)

(it’s a low bar, but you’ll still never be able to reach it, overworld or no.)

(you’re not worth it.)

jimmy’s hand tightens on timmy’s shoulder, almost as if he can hear the voices, too. but timmy pays them no mind.

it’s nothing he doesn’t already know.

~*~

[chaifootsteps]

Am I the only one who’s terrified of having a dynamic like Fizz and Ozzie’s? Seriously, it’s scary when you really think about it.

When you strip their relationship down of any external factors, their relationship is really sweet. Maybe a bit too saccharine, but still sweet nonetheless. But then you add in the fact that Ozzie’s a prince, and Fizz is on the lowest rung of the hierarchal ladder. Okay, Royals falling in love with commoners is a classic trope, that’s fine.

And now that prince boyfriend is Fizz’s current employer, so he can control how much he gets paid or if he has a job at all. Fizz blew up his deal with Mammon, rightfully so, but it’s something he probably wouldn’t be able to do without Ozzie backing him, and it doesn’t look like he has anything else going on outside of that, so his gigs at Ozzie’s restaurant is probably the only source of income he has. Little bit more unnerving, but hey, there’s other jobs out there, maybe he could get one that isn’t run by his lover.

Now add on the fact that Fizz currently lives with his prince employer boyfriend in his palace. It’s not implied for the time being that Fizz has his own place, so it’s safe to assume that he lives with Ozzie full time. So that means that Ozzie, on top of being so much higher up in status, on top of having Fizz on his payroll, has him living in his vast castle and could kick him out at any time if he so chooses, and what would Fizz be able to do about it? Starting to sound a little more scary, but it’s not like—

Fizz is a quadruple amputee. And the one supplying the robotic limbs that give him the ability to move around is Ozzie. So Ozzie not only has power, status, money, and housing over Fizz, he has the ability to provide and withhold his basic ability to care for himself and move. We saw what happened in Season 2 Episode 6, he was practically helpless when they stopped functioning! This is scary! This is horrifying!!

Ozzie has way too much power in his and Fizz’s relationship, to the point where if they had a nasty argument or potential breakup, Fizz would be screwed on all fronts! Best case scenario, he’d have to go back to the abusive employ of Mammon with no avenue of escape, worst case scenario, he’d be homeless, unable to provide for himself or even do anything!! Good thing Ozzie’s like, the sweetest boyfriend ever, because if he wasn’t, this would be a horror story!!!

It's scary as hell and absolutely the stuff horror movies are made of! Basically, their entire relationship hinges on Ozzie being the sweetest boyfriend ever and staying that way, because if he's ever anything but that, Fizz is absolutely fucked. Hell, Ozzie could go nuts, decide he loves Fizz too much to risk losing him again, and take his arms and legs.

The worst part is, it's unlikely they'll ever so much as address it in a respectful, mutual adult way where Fizz and Ozzie talk about this as a valid concern and find a solution. In Viv's world, good relationships don't need communication and characters talking about heavy things opens the door to criticism from the audience and that's not something she can handle.

[augiewrites]

“psychic” - ray stantz

summary: ray invites a psychic to help them on a job

pairing: ray stantz x psychic!reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this turned out so long and is kind of niche but dr. ray stantz if you read this im free on thursday night and would like to hang out. please respond to this and then hang out with me on Thursday night when i’m free.

Spooks and specters aside, Ray liked to think that he was a reasonable, level-headed man.

His friends, however, tended to disagree.

“C’mon, Ray, you can’t believe everything this crack says just ‘cause they’re a smokeshow,” Peter chastised him from the passenger seat.

“I consulted with multiple colleagues before I even thought about using their services. I will have you know that—”

“Ah, and I’m sure those colleagues had a plethora of scientific backing.”

“You weren’t even there,” Ray scoffed, “if you would just set your biases aside for one second, one second—”

“OH, please!”

“—you might actually learn something valuable!”

“You know, this is getting ridiculous, Ray.” Peter shook his head, looking out the window.

“Ridiculous, I’m being ridiculous, that’s rich.” Ray muttered to himself.

Egon’s monotone voice broke through from the backseat, “The accuracy of the reading was quite impressive.” He didn’t bother looking up from the gadget he was toying with.

“Thank you!” “Not you, too!” Ray and Peter exclaimed in unison.

“Look, Ray,” Peter turned in his seat to face his friend, “a few lucky guesses doesn’t mean someone’s qualified.”

“Last I checked, you didn’t have any better ideas.” Ray retorted.

“Just because I don’t have any better ideas doesn’t mean this is our only option.”

Ray cut the wheel sharply into a parking spot, narrowly avoiding the other parked cars as Ecto-1 jerked to a stop.. “Pete, our equipment isn’t giving us accurate readings, the spirit is non-communicative, and there are too many objects to know which one it’s attached to. This discussion. Is. Over.”

Three car doors were flung open—only two slammed shut.

”What happened to ‘I’m not stepping foot in that scammer’s lair’?” Ray threw over his shoulder.

“If you think I’m letting you go in there alone to get manipulated by a con artist, you’re even crazier than I thought,” Peter scoffed, “especially now that Spengler’s compromised.”

“I can assure you that I am not compromised.”

“Whatever, Pete,” Ray pushed open the door to the apartment complex, “just…don’t be yourself.”

————————————————

Peter lectured Ray the entire way up to the fifth floor, and was about to octuple down on his argument when the plain door opened, cutting him off.

The psychic smiled warmly at the trio.

”Dr. Stantz, Dr. Spengler, welcome back,” they moved aside, gesturing them into the apartment, “and you must be Dr. Venkman. Welcome, my name’s Y/N.”

Y/N extended a hand, and Peter gave it a brief shake.

“Yeah, pleasure’s all mine.”

If looks could kill, Ray would’ve killed Peter a long time ago.

”Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Y/N.” What Peter gave in sarcasm, Ray made up for in sincerity.

”It’s no problem at all—please, take a seat.”

Ray promptly sat in the plush chair closest to Y/N, and Egon took the other, leaving Peter sitting on a low cushion on the floor.

Y/N gave them another smile, “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

”Well—“ Peter began, but was promptly cut off by Ray.

”We have a job, you see. A client recently inherited his great-uncle’s estate, but there’s this poltergeist—real nasty one. We think it has an attachment to something in the house, but we can’t figure out what.”

Y/N nodded, “Hm, I see.”

Peter butted in, “These goofs were hoping you’d come to the house and be their ghost hound.”

”Peter.” Ray gave him a warning look.

”And I take it you don’t want my help?” Y/N raised an inquisitive brow.

”I mean, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that you need to make a living. I’m just not buying it.”

“I am so sorry about him, Y/N,” Ray started.

Y/N just laughed, their focus still on Peter.

“Last week. You were on a date—she was a little too young for you, by the way.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N cut him off.

”You thought you were going to get lucky, but she got cold feet, kicked you out of the car and drove off with your pants. Left you there, hanging in the breeze.”

”How did you—“

”There’s a man with you, he saw the whole thing. Says his name’s Bill. He couldn’t wait to tell someone about it.”

Peter gaped at Y/N, speechless for possibly the first time in his life. Images of his late uncle Bill flashed in his mind. He had always found humor in other people’s misery.

Y/N turned their attention to Ray, who was already looking at them in awe. “I would be happy to help,” they briefly looked over his shoulder with a warm smile, “your mother says hello, by the way. Lovely woman.”

“Th-thank you.” Ray stammered a bit.

“You were actually my last appointment of the day, if you would like to go now.”

Peter shot up from the cushion, heading toward the door. “Great, let’s go.”

He just wanted to get Y/N out of his life before they could reveal anything else about him.

”Don’t mind him.” Ray smiled at Y/N apologetically.

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” Y/N beamed back, grabbing their things and following Ray out the door.

————————————————

Ray guided Y/N into the passenger seat, much to Peter’s chagrin.

He was back to his usual self, leaning up from the backseat and gripping the back of Ray’s seat as he questioned their new addition.

”So these people—spirits—are just watching us at all times.”

”Well, yeah,” Y/N laughed softly, “unfortunately, they don’t have much else to do.”

Peter sat back in his seat, looking mortified.

”Really makes you reconsider how you act, right?”

Peter thought for a moment.

”Nah, nothing Casper can do about it, anyway. Bunch of creeps.”

Ray scoffed. “Very inspirational, Pete,” he snuck a glance at Y/N, “I know I’ll be thinking twice the next time I pick my nose—figuratively speaking, of course. I do not pick my nose.”

“Of course,” Y/N laughed, “but really, you can’t stop living just because you might have a few spectators.”

”See, they get me.” Peter lightly slapped Ray’s arm before he turned into the driveway and put the car in park.

Y/N exited the car, looking up at the house.

”Are the owners home?” They inquired, glancing at Ray.

”No,” he lightly jingled his keyring, “they gave us the spare key while we figure this out.”

Y/N looked back at the house.

”Oh…well, there’s a woman upstairs. She looks upset.”

”Yeah, they must be pretty angry. Keeps throwing things around and killing the power.”

”No,” Y/N frowned, starting toward the house, “she looks…sad.”

Ray followed Y/N, unlocking the door and guiding them to the staircase.

”I think you may have this ghost misunderstood. The energy here is…” Y/N paused, thinking, “low…but I don’t think there’s anyone here that means harm.”

The pair moved through the house, Peter and Egon left down in the foyer.

”Activity has been most concentrated in the master bedroom, the door to your left.” Ray nodded at the slightly ajar door. “We think that what we’re looking for is in there.”

Y/N wordlessly nodded and walked to the bedroom, pausing abruptly in the doorway.

”Oh, hello,” they greeted the air in a soft voice.

Ray craned his neck from the hallway, seeing nothing in the room. Y/N, however, had their eyes trained on the vanity.

”I see…” They shot a solemn look at Ray. “She’s been here for a long time.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ray rubbed his chin, “our clients said this activity was new.”

”The activity may be new, but she isn’t.” Y/N now stood by the vanity, lightly trailing their fingertips across the assorted beauty products, jewelry, and papers strewn across the surface. “She stayed back to be with her husband, at first…but now that he’s gone…”

Ray nodded sympathetically, “she doesn’t know how to move on.”

Y/N opened a small drawer with a sigh, picked up an envelope, and gently pulled out a yellowed piece of paper.

”She wrote it for her husband.” Y/N’s eyes scanned the letter. Before long, a tear fell down their cheek and they folded the letter up before reaching back into the envelope and pulling out a small ring.

Y/N slipped both the letter and the ring back into the envelope, wiped the tear from their cheek, and turned to Ray, handing him the letter.

”Here,” their voice sounded small, like they were taking on the pain of the spirit, “you’ll have to burn it…hopefully she can find him.”

Ray silently followed them out of the room, out of the house, and back into the car. Peter was asking Y/N and Ray a new question every other second, but Ray simply brushed him off as Y/N rested their head on the window, looking drained.

The rest of the drive was quiet, and Ray offered to walk Y/N to their apartment upon arrival. He shot Peter a look, silently letting him know to not follow.

The silence continued the whole way to their door, where Y/N cleared their throat and looked at Ray. “Thank you for walking me.”

”It’s no problem,” Ray smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels, “it really affects you, doesn’t it?”

Y/N sighed, looking down at their hands, suddenly very interested in the rings adorning their fingers.

”Only sometimes,” Y/N sighed again, “when I’m too empathetic for my own good. I just couldn’t imagine…being left behind like that.”

Ray reached out to lightly grasp their upper arm. “Well, hey…at least there’s folks like you here to help those left behind, right?”

”Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Y/N met his gaze, “thanks, Ray, really.”

”Anytime.” Ray gave their arm a light squeeze and dropped his hand to his side.

Neither of them moved to retreat.

”Well…I’ll let you get back to your work.” A slight blush powdered Y/N’s cheeks, and they suddenly felt embarrassment blooming in their chest.

Before the door could close between them, however, Ray stepped forward.

”Wait!” He blurted, feeling an embarrassment of his own creeping in. “Can I…see you again?”

Y/N gave him that warm smile that made him feel like they were the only two people on Earth.

”You know where to find me.”

Ray lingered at their door for a moment after it closed, feeling light, before retreating back to the car.

”Oh, no!” Peter cried out as Ray slid into the driver’s seat. “I know that look! Don’t tell me you’re gonna start bringing them around on a regular basis—I do not need any more spirits airing out my business.”

Egon cut in from the backseat, “I, for one, would enjoy hearing more of what Bill has to say.”

”Well I never want to hear from Bill ever again,” Peter gave Ray a serious look, “Oh, don’t smile, Ray. It’s a serious breach of privacy. You can’t expect me to—“

Ray turned up the radio, drowning out Peter’s wailings.

He drove into the night, the smile never leaving his face.

[amhrosina]

It's Always Been You

Summary: You and Miguel are forced to confront your feelings for one another after a dangerous mission goes awry.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

masterlist // join my taglist // follow me on instagram & ao3

a/n: i cannot stop thinking about this man ohmygod anyways im overwhelmed by the love being shown for my other miguel fic and cant wait to add more to this community!!! thank you!!! (should i do a part two with smut? like friends to lovers first time?? lemme know <;3)

warnings: friends to lovers, arguing, some angst, love confessions!!!!!, reader calls miguel a name, idiots in love tbh, references to a dangerous situation (but no details i kept it super vague lol), starts to get a little suggestive at the end but is like 99% fluff

Miguel was ignoring you. Not in the usual, self-brooding, grumpy way he sometimes did when he was having a bad day, but in the way that told you he was furious with you. Anger had been radiating off of him in waves since your chaotic return to Nueva York a few hours earlier, and you, along with every other Spider-person at headquarters, was avoiding his workspace like the plague. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to console him, but you knew, probably better than anyone, that when Miguel wanted to brood, he would. You would try again later, and eventually you’d make him laugh, and the world would right itself again. It always did.

Spider-Woman huffed, plopping into the seat next to yours in the cafeteria, slamming her tray down hard enough to knock your tablet on its side. Clearly, she was upset about something. 

“Is everyone pissed off today?” You asked indignantly.

She glared at you, shoving a bite of sandwich in her mouth before answering.

“Miguel’s being pissy.” She glared at you. “And it’s your fault.”

“I can’t imagine why. We got the guy, didn’t we?” 

“We both know what you did was reckless.” Her glare intensified, and your annoyance shifted to guilt. It was a reckless move, but it worked. 

“He was being torn to shreds. I did what any of us would’ve done. If he has a problem, he can come talk to me about it instead of hiding from all of us like a teenager.”

Her gaze softened. “He has a lot on his plate.”

“So?” You combatted, annoyed all over again.

“So, I think maybe what happened today scared him, and he doesn’t know how to process his feelings about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrugged, refusing to meet her gaze.

“You’re his best friend, and he almost lost you today. Go talk to him.” She suggested, patting your shoulder. “I think it’ll do everyone some good. And I do mean everyone. He’s scary when he’s mad.”

You shrugged her off, finishing your dinner in silence. If Miguel was so pissed, why couldn’t he come talk to you about it? Why, after years of knowing each other, were you still the one approaching him with an apology? Why couldn’t he just say what he meant for once?

But of course, after you finished your dinner and realized, hopelessly, that the only person you wanted to see was, in fact, Miguel, you huffed and began the trek to his office, where you knew he’d still be brooding.

The tension in the building had lessened after many of the spider-people had returned to their own universes, glad to get away from the uncomfortable elephant in the room, but that didn’t stop your stomach from clenching when you rounded the corner into Miguel’s dim, untidy workspace.

He was hunched over his desk, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. From your position, you had a clear view of the damage that had been done to his back earlier that day. You winced, thinking back to the few seconds of absolute terror you’d experienced when you’d seen the anomaly tearing into Miguel’s skin. The claw marks had already healed a little, now just raw, nasty looking scratches down the curve of his spine. 

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, though he had likely heard you coming since you stepped foot out of the cafeteria. Anger flickered in his cold gaze, but he was still here, decidedly not hiding from you, which was a good sign. You stepped into the workspace, setting the extra food you’d bought for him down before fully turning to face him.

“Hey.” You murmured. “Brought you some dinner.”

His gaze flicked from your awkward stance to the box of food on the table. “Thanks.”

Short. Blunt. To the point. You sighed.

“You’re still mad, then?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t be mad at the stunt you pulled today?” He glared, standing to his full height and towering over you.

“I’m saying you shouldn’t be mad at me for saving your life, asshole.” You looked up at him, refusing to back down.

“I had it under control. It was my anomaly to handle.” His nostrils flared with anger. 

You threw your hands up indignantly. “It was our anomaly to handle, and I handled it just fine! In case you don’t remember, I was good enough at handling myself to be recruited by you for this stupid team!”

“What you did was incredibly stupid. The anomaly could have killed you. Don’t you get that?”

“The anomaly was killing you. I did what I thought was best-”

“Exactly. You did what you thought was best and didn’t think once about the team. You risked an entire universe to show off!” He cut you off, slamming his hands on the desk on either side of you, effectively cornering you.

Your voices had risen considerably since your initial arrival, and you were now inches apart, screaming at each other.

“To show off?” You pushed at his enormous chest, vision blurred with a mixture of tears and anger. “I risked an entire universe to protect you, you asshole! Everything I do is to protect you.”

He grabbed your wrists, easily stopping your arms from pushing him again. 

“You could have died.” He grunted, squeezing your wrists.

“Why do you even care, Miguel? The anomaly was taken care of, just like it always is. We’ll go take care of another one tomorrow, just like we always do.”

“Because I love you, obviously!” He yelled, releasing his grip on you and taking a full step backwards. Stunned into silence, neither of you said anything for a full ten seconds. He began pacing in front of you, hands on his hips, breathing heavily as the magnitude of what he’d just revealed fully hit him. He paused when he heard you sniffle, and began speaking.

“I love you. Can’t you see that?” He asked, stepping close to you. Tears welled in your eyes, and you couldn’t bear to look up at him for fear that it might be a dream, or worse, a cruel trick of his. “I care because I love you, and I almost lost you. I-” he swallowed thickly, “I almost lost it when I realized what you were doing. And when we couldn’t find you after? That was the worst thirty seconds of my life.” He shook his head, clearing the thoughts from his mind. “I can’t lose you. Do you understand that? You’re mine. I can’t lose you, baby.”

You finally lifted your chin, meeting his gaze. He tentatively cradled your cheeks, wiping away the stray tears that had snuck down your face during his speech. 

“I love you, too.” You murmured, nuzzling into his palm. “But you can’t expect me to just watch while you’re being torn to shreds. I had to do something.”

He nodded, though it clearly pained him to agree with you about it. “I know. And I know you can handle yourself. I’m sorry for getting so angry, but you have to understand that your safety is the most important thing to me when we go chasing after anomalies. And I know that it should be saving the universes that we’re in, but it’s not. It’s you, and it’s always been you. Don’t ask me to change that. It will always be you.”

You blinked up at him in stunned silence, nodding. You couldn’t remember when your feelings for Miguel had shifted to something beyond friendly, but you’d never before allowed yourself the fantasy of him loving you in return. It was something you’d come to terms with months ago, accepting that you’d never get to hold him the way he deserved to be held. But now he was standing with you, holding you, begging you to understand that all of his anger has been out of pure, unselfish love for you. 

“I won’t ask you to change that.” You conceded, a small grin forming on your face, “As long as you promise to at least try to stay out of harm’s way.”

“I promise, but you know harm seems to seek me out no matter what.” His grin mirrored the one on your face. He shifted his head down, stopping only centimeters away from your lips. “If I asked you to kiss me right now, would you?”

“That depends.” You breathed, heart thundering in your chest. “Are you going to be this dramatic every time I save your ass, O’Hara?”

He chuckled, cradling your head in his massive hands. “Maybe. Yes. Definitely.”

You shrugged, nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked, eyes flicking between your gaze and your lips.

“Okay.” You bobbed your head once and then leaned in.

He captured your lips in an earth-shattering kiss, exploring every inch of what you offered to him eagerly. His hands roamed the length of your body, pulling you fully against his heated skin. You melted into him, pliable to his every whim and desire, going exactly where he wanted you to go, doing exactly what he wanted you to do. Heat coiled in your entire body, poised to erupt at the slightest touch he offered. You reached forward, tugging at the material around his waist. If he wasn’t inside of you soon, you thought you might explode. His hands wandered below your waistband, too, eager to please.

A loud clunking sound from around the corner had you springing apart, panting, overheated, and completely high off one another’s touch. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to be seen kissing Miguel. In fact, you were planning on kissing him at every moment possible, if he’d let you. It was the fact that you’d very nearly allowed him to strip you naked and have his way with you in his very public office. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, coming to his senses and adjusting the uncomfortable looking bulge in his pants as the sound of footsteps grew nearer.

“Miguel, you’re going to be in an even worse mood if you don’t just go talk to her. I mean, really, you’re both acting like idiots and clearly love each oth- oh!”

Spider-Woman came into view, waving her hands frantically and then doing her very best to hide the smile growing on her face. You shifted your feet awkwardly, trying your best to look like you hadn’t had Miguel’s tongue shoved down your throat ten seconds earlier. Miguel, as stoic and unperturbed as ever, had simply bent down and returned to scribbling on the paper from earlier, which made you involuntarily scowl. He always looked so cool. It was annoying.

“Am I…interrupting something?” Spider-Woman asked, smirking. Clearly, you weren’t doing a great job hiding anything from her. 

“What was that you were saying when you came in? Something about my mood?” Miguel asked, lifting his gaze to hers.

“Oh, nothing!” She grinned, turning on her heels and leaving the room as fast as she had entered it.

Miguel looked at you, suddenly shy now that you were alone together again. “Wanna bet how long it’ll be before she spills the beans to someone about us?”

You barked a laugh. “I’ll give you my entire paycheck if she hasn’t announced it to someone already.” 

Tag List:

@foxglove-grove @lavnderluv @khaleesihavilliard @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs @ostricx @horrorflix @anthonymackiehasmyheart

[concretecultist]

Sacrilege

summary: being the daughter of a Pastor meant your life was the Bible through and through. Noah being the son of the choir director meant that even though he rejected the faith, he still showed up. You’ve known Noah all your life and always tried to get him right with Christ so he wasn’t predisposed to an afterlife of eternal damnation. What you didn’t expect though, was for him to begin chipping away at the walls of the only thing you’ve ever known. Faith.

pairing: PastorsDaughter!Reader x Noah Sebastian

warnings: sacrilege, smut, religious themes, corruption kink, unprotected sex, mentions of cult-like behaviors, "kool-aid" incident mentioned, just please beware reading this if this is not your vibe!!

word count: 4.6k

A/N: this is an 18+ blog so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! This is ALL FICTIONAL!!

You and Noah had known each other since you two could talk. He was always the rebellious one, you were the rule follower, you had to be. Your father was the Pastor of the Concrete Commune of Christ.

Coining its name based off of how "solid" the community’s connection to God was.

But even concrete can crumble.

“Have you changed your ways yet?,” You question him, “I grew up with you, Noah, I really don’t want you to go to hell,”

“Oh, Dove you’re gonna go to hell too,” he smirks, all of this was a joke to him. He has made it clear to everyone in the commune, from a young age, how he feels about religion but they let him stay in hopes that the 28 year old will one day accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

“No I’m not,” you shriek, “I’m a follower of God, I live by the book,”

“You live by the book huh?,” he plucks the collar of your shirt, “Deuteronomy 22:11, ‘ye shall not wear cloth combining linen and wool’… your little sweater with the mock collar is a sin,”

“Leviticus 19:28,” you eye his tattoos, any time you two were near each other, it was a banter like this. Noah found it amusing but you were serious. You cared about everyone in the commune, you wanted them to make it to Heaven.

“I’ve made my peace with knowing I won’t make it to those pearly gates,” he gets closer, “If I did it’d probably be to spit in your God’s face and dethrone him,”

“Noah, that’s blasphemous!,” you gasp, “W-what… what is wrong with you?,”

“Your God makes no mistakes right? So he made me this way”

“Satan really has his claws in you,” you give a shaky breath.

“He’s a cool guy,” shrugging as if it were a normal statement, “He’s not as uptight with the rules to brainwash you all like cattle,”

“It’s not brainwash! This is the way. The word of God is the true light,”

“Why do you think he’s called the Shepherd, Dove? Because you’re all sheep. None of you think for yourselves. It won’t be long before your father is feeding you all kool aid and you all commit mass suicide,”

“You’re real nasty you know that?,” How dare you he question your faith. Your faith is all you’ve ever known and as far as you are aware, it's the reason you wake up every day.

“Oh baby you haven’t seen nasty. I can show you though,”

“I cannot commit sin as freely as you,” the disgust written all over your face, “I cannot commit sin with a clear conscience,”

“So repent,” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “What did your Lord and Savior die for if you don’t sin? You really want him to have died for nothing? Up on that cross with nothing but a sponge of vinegar in his mouth. You really want to be that ungrateful and not appreciate his sacrifice?,”

He gets closer to where he’s whispering in your ear. He’s so haunting, so… unholy, you question how he doesn’t burst into flames when he walks through the doors of the sanctuary.

“I can show you a real baptism. I bet you’d look pretty in all white… wet… as you cleanse your soul of the dirty acts you’ve committed”

“W-we… we should really focus on getting the lesson together, Noah,” you scoot your chair away from him and turn back to your bible, “I think the book of Psalms will be a great place to start. We can teach the others about the protection the Lord gives as long as you believe and do right unto others,”

Noah played your little game. Giving you pointers for the lesson. For someone who rejected faith the way he did, he knew the Bible pretty well, better than you actually, and almost no one in the congregation knows the Bible better than you.

That’s what started your time spent together. Your father was wary of Noah, considering his tattoos and his music taste outside of the church but when he saw the way Noah studied the Bible with you, he figured you were a good influence, he figured that you were following in his footsteps and spreading the gospel.

Except that wasn’t the case.

Noah was planting seeds in the garden that was your mind. He sat beside you every Wednesday night and Sunday morning whispering in your ear. Deconstructing everything your father was speaking at the altar.

He was able to plant seeds of doubt so easily and that shook you. How solid was your faith if you could question it in just a few weeks? Maybe the Devil is trying to get you on his side, but you must stand firm. So you pray more, you sit at the altar more, you sing hymns so that the voice of doubt could be drowned out.

But it was proving to be pointless almost, you’d go home every night and find it hard to read the Bible. Finding it hard to believe in a God that let horrible things happen around the world and to innocent people.

How do you keep faith like that?

That’s how you find yourself in the pulpit of the church.

Looking up at the statue of the figure that you called Lord and Savior for the last twenty something years of your life.

“Lord, if you’re listening I really need you to keep me strong in my stance. If you’re really there why is my faith in you wavering? If you’re really up there… why don’t you help the poor? Why do you keep sister Paula in an unsafe situation with her husband? If you’re really there-,”

“No one is listening, Dove,”

He has a teasing edge to his tone. He’s making fun of you.

“No one is up there answering your prayers,” his voice gets closer until he’s sitting beside you, “You’re alone. You’re praying to a voice in your head. You want to know why he doesn’t help the poor? Because he isn’t real. And if he is… then he’s one selfish fuck. Wanna know why sister Paula stays with her abusive husband? Because your father brainwashes his congregation into believing that divorce is something that immediately sends you to hell. Either that or your God is a sadistic voyeur,”

You feel Noah wipe the tears off your face as you turn to look for him.

“There are no pearly gates… there is no eternal damnation. Everything you were taught was to keep you in line. To keep you docile. But I know you wanna be set free, Dove,”

He sucks the tip of his thumb, humming at the taste of your tears.

“Do you want me to open the cage and set you free? Do you want me to show you the real light?,”

“I will be forsaken,” there’s a tremble in your tone. Your wings have been clipped long enough and yet now that you have the option to fly, a part of you wants to stay caged.

“You’ve already been abandoned, Dove,” his spit covered thumb traces over your lips, “I can give you something to pray to. Something that’s tangible. Something you can see… touch…,”

“I can be your God,” he was so close to your face now, so close that his lips were touching yours, you could smell the sweet mint of his favorite gum, “I can make today your judgment day. I can walk you to the light, Dove,”

“H-how? You’re just a mortal like me,���

“You doubt me but believe in a man that rose on the third day?,” he was smiling as if your words were the world's best comedy. The congregation had its hooks in you deep. But it's okay, he'd remove them with ease.

“Noah. I don’t wanna go to hell,” you cried, it was hard to break free of all you were taught

“With me, heaven is the only place you’ll go. Follow me and I can show you the real way. Follow me and you won’t have to live your life in fear. Follow me… and I will show you how a real God treats his followers,”

Before you can answer, Noah is taking your hand and guiding you to your father’s study, locking the door before letting go of your hand.

“Psalm 90:17, what does it say again?,”

You swallow thickly, you know the verse and for some reason it’s not coming out. It doesn't feel right to spew scriptures anymore.

“You claim to know the Bible front and back and can’t recite one of the easiest scriptures?,”

Why was he being so mean? One minute he seems as though he wants to help but the next he’s asking you questions related to scripture, what is his game?

“I do know it it’s just-,”

“Not important enough to remember,” he leans back on your father’s desk, arms folded, tattooed muscles stretching the sleeves of his tight black tee.

“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us. Yes, establish the work of our hands" Noah answers for you, sarcasm dressing his tone as he throws his hands up as if he's praising, “what does that scripture mean, Dove?,”

“It means… it’s a plea for the Lord to bless people and their work beyond imagination,” you seemed dazed.

“Every night that’s the last thing I speak before bed after I cum to the thought of you on your knees, praying to me,”

“M-Matthew 7:15, Noah… Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves,”

“And you are but a little lamb,” He pushes himself off the desk to circle you and suddenly… he feels like a hawk circling his prey, “I never came to you in sheep’s clothing… you knew who I was from the beginning,”

He was so close now. Whispering in your ear so close that it sent shivers down your spine.

“I had faith you could change. I prayed for you every night, Noah I wanted you to see the light,”

“I am… the true light. I don’t need you to pray for me… I need you to pray to me,”

“I cannot… Exodus 20: 4-5. There are no other Gods, Noah,”

His dark chuckle made your stomach do flips. How is he okay with laughing in the face of God like this?

“You’re forgetting a vital piece of that scripture, Dove,” his hands are touching you now and you find it embarrassing when his grip has to tighten when your knees buckle.

“I am not-,”

“I hate my people worshiping other Gods,” he answers plainly, “Your God admits there are others amongst him. He’s just a greedy…,”

A kiss to your neck makes you gasp, your mouth feels dry as you choke on your saliva.

“Selfish…,” a little nibble where your neck and shoulder meet, “Unworthy prick who doesn’t deserve a lamb like you. I deserve you. I deserve your praise. I deserve to hear you sing songs about me. I deserve to experience the look on your face when your knees ache from being on them so long when praying,”

His hand is under your skirt now, do you push him away? Do you… do you welcome it? What if this is God testing you to see if you’re a true follower?

Will you follow him?

Or the Devil?

“I deserve to be the flesh and blood you devour every first Sunday,”

His middle finger swipes between your lips and there’s an unfamiliar rush that takes over your body.

“Let me show you the fruit I bear,”

You can feel him smiling against your ear as he speaks directly into it. It feels like he’s speaking to your soul. All this time you’ve been praying and it’s been nothing but silence but now… now here Noah is, speaking his word into your ear and it’s taking over your mind.

That’s all you’ve ever wanted, was a voice in your ear with a sense of direction. Maybe the Lord has forsaken you… maybe it’s time to try a new path of faith?

“Show me the light,” you breathe out.

Those were the words he was waiting for. That’s all he needed to hear before he’s turning you around and gripping the nape of your neck to plant his lips on yours in a searing kiss. It was overwhelming, to feel his lips and his tongue and then his hands roaming your body as he sets you on the desk.

“Can I taste you?,” he asks, “Can I taste the sweet fruit you bear?,”

You don’t know exactly what he means by taste you but with the eyes of a lamb, you nod to him.

“I will be a good disciple. Show me the truth and I will follow you,”

The words coming out like projectile vomit. The haze of the confusion and deteriorating faith creates a cast over your mind.

Noah’s hands are slowly taking off your cotton panties, eyeing the string of slick that follows before it breaks its connection to your underwear and lands on your inner thigh.

“So ripe. So fresh,” he mutters as he lowers himself on his knees, “I just might have to worship you,”

It makes your cheeks heat up. All your life, all you’ve known is worshiping something you can’t see. You were taught to be humble and modest and yet here you are… with a heretic on his knees before you claiming he wants to praise you.

A flip switches.

“Show me,” you plead softly, “I wanna know what it’s like to be praised,”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought his eyes turned completely black for a second, but it’s too late now. You’re already committing sin and like Noah said… don’t let Jesus die for nothing, right?

His lips make a path on your inner thighs before they find that string of slick. You feel his warm tongue flatten against your thigh and suddenly his eyes are in the back of his head and he lets out a moan that was devilish, it came from the core, as if he was parched and it was the first drop of liquid he received after a long, desolate journey.

“I knew you’d taste good,”

You’re watching his every move. You can’t tear your eyes off of him. Especially when his mouth isn’t even an inch away from your core. He stared and stared and you were wondering if something is wrong.

So you try to close your legs but he’s not having that. His big hands spread them even wider than they were before, taking in the view.

“My goodness maybe there is a God,” he smirked as he stared at your wet lips, “Back out now, Dove, because once I start, I will feast as if it’s the last supper,”

“I wanna see the light. Show me the light, No- OH!,”

You’re immediately cut off when he finally touches you. His mouth is so warm, he’s getting you all over his face like a juicy peach in the summer time.

You’re gripping the edge of the desk as if your life depends on it and with what he’s doing, it seems like it does.

He’s suckling on your bundle of nerves, his finger tips are digging into your thighs and it feels so good but all the sounds you’re wanting to make are trapped in your throat.

“N-Noah… N-,” you wheeze

“N-N-Noah,” he pulls back and mocks you. He’s taunting you and it brings a wave of embarrassment so bad that tears flooded into your eyes, “Relax. You’re being a good disciple,”

Your eyes flutter at those words as he dives back in. He’s lapping at you as if you have a prize inside and he wants it.

Then you feel it. He’s sliding a finger in and it takes your breath away.

“There we go,” he whispers against your clit, “Tell me when I’ve hit that spot,”

You have no idea what spot he’s talking about. Not until he’s adding a second finger and reaches deep within you and lightly curls his finger.

“Oh! O-oh m-my… goodness!!,” your legs bend and tremble, toes pointed. You don’t know what that is but it feels immaculate.

“There she goes,” He’s got you now. He now has made a mental map of your core. Knowing what makes you cry out, what makes you mewl like a cat in heat.

His fingers are speeding up and your juices are splashing on the ugly carpet of the church office.

You’re committing sacrilege and you know it’s wrong but why does it feel so… right? so… Heavenly?

Your stomach begins to tighten and you need something better to grip on, so your hand flies to Noah’s head, gripping so tight the moan he gives goes straight to your core and before you know it, your body is convulsing and you’re crying asking the Lord for forgiveness for the sin you’ve just committed.

“You’re forgiven,” Noah answers, “Let’s repent, yeah?,”

He slowly stands up and within the light of the rising moon, his lips are red, swollen and glistening. He’s sucking on the fingers that were just inside you and a part of you feels as though it should make you cringe but instead it causes your heart to race and you want to taste his tongue.

As if he can read your mind, his lips are on yours once more and you can taste yourself. It’s not something you’d taste alone, but tasting it on Noah? That’s something you can get used to.

After he pulls away he pulls you off the desk and brings you around to the other side. On the back of the office door is a mirror and above the door is a cross.

“As much as I’d like you on your knees… I have something else in mind that’s far more exciting,” he pulls you back and takes the swiveling chair so the back is against the desk before helping you on it, situating you on your knees and pulling the neckline of your top down so your breasts spill over.

He toys with your nipples with a shit-eating grin, admiring the way your body responds to him.

“Hebrews 13:4,” you whine. The guilt started to creep back in, maybe you should stop, Noah would understand. With the cross staring right back at you, it all started to become too much, “Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous,”

“I am the only God here, Dove,”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you’re back under his spell.

“What God keeps his people from experiencing something so good, so… freeing that it feels like they’re ascending? I am unclipping your wings, Dove. Won’t you fly with me?,”

You feel him poke at your core, spreading the wetness, coating his tip. He just wanted to slide right in but he knew he had to work you up first. His grip on your breast was tantalizing. His tattooed hand in contrast to your skin was a beautiful sight to see.

He was right.

What God kept his people caged from experiencing beautiful sights like this?

“Start praying,” is all he says before he starts pushing the tip in, “I want to hear what you pray for,”

It was a distraction tactic but he couldn’t get enough of your voice. Especially when you pray for the congregation after Bible study. It always made him hard, he always wanted to bend you over the podium and just hear your delusional prayers.

“I..,”

His hand that’s on your breast is now gripping your cheeks and keeping your head straight to the mirror.

“Don’t get shy now,”

“I call upon God, the Father..,”

He pushes in more and it’s not painful but it is a lot to handle.

“God, the Son a-and God, the Holy Spirit,”

With each word he slowly makes his way inside of you before his pelvis is flush against your ass.

He sighs as if he’s been reborn again.

“Keep going, baby,”

“I… I ask that you watch over us. B-bless us with the gift to see another day. Please continue to guide and protect me,”

“You sound so pretty praying to me,”

“B-but I’m praying to God,” You correct.

“Dove have you learned nothing?,” his chuckle was so dark, “I am your God now. Everything you do. Everything you pray for. You’re saying it to me,”

His hips roll and it causes you tremble in his grip. It’s dizzying. Your vision doubles as he begins a pace to move in and out of you.

“So keep fucking praying,”

There was no room to argue. There was no hint of teasing in his voice.

You didn’t want to anger him. You wanted to make him proud.

You had to be a good disciple, right? Prove to him that you’re worthy.

“God, enlighten my mind with truth. Inflame my heart w-with… with,” a gasp is ripped from your chest as his hips snap into you, he’s so deep. It feels like your nerve endings are on fire and it’s hard to think straight.

You hear the mess being created between your legs and its mouth watering.

“Oh God, please,” your head is thrown back and you turn to look at Noah, “What… why does it feel so good?,”

Noah licked the tears that fell down your cheek. Kissing your waiting lips, picking up his pace and he swallows your cries while you grip his wrists that are caging you in that way you don’t topple over.

“I told you I would baptize you. I told you I would show you the light. I told you I’d show you how a real God treats his followers. You’re being reborn again, Dove,”

Your eyes roll the deeper he gets.

“God, please,” a whimper drips off your lips, you call out into the empty office, “Inflame my heart with l-love… enrich my life with a-service,”

Noah’s hand snaked around to your core to add pressured circles to your clit. He was everywhere.

His breath fanning on your cheek, his hand at your core, his cock deep inside, his eyes boring into your soul. His aura wrapped you up in a warm hug. This is what the presence of God feels like.

The tears flowed. This is the first time in a long time you’ve felt the reward of faith. Maybe Noah was a God… a patient God who waited for you to find your way to him.

He has a follower for as long as you’ll live… and maybe there after.

“Don’t forsake me,” you moan, “I need you. I need something to b-believe in. Don’t f-forsake me. Don’t forsake me!,”

It was a prayer that Noah never expected to spill from your mouth with such conviction.

“A true God doesn’t abandon his people,” Noah’s pace was deadly now. His hips clapping your ass sounded like the church drums during Sunday praise and worship. Your moans were more beautiful than any gospel Noah would help direct during Tuesday night practice.

“I will follow you, I will follow you, My Lord,” you reach behind him to grab at his hair. At this point, your hips were moving back to meet him.

“Thank you!!,” a wanton moan escapes you as he adds an intoxicating amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves between your legs, “Th-thank you for… for you faithfulness a-and presence in my life!,”

Most people loved for dirty talk… but this was incomparable. This couldn’t be topped. The little bird of his dreams was singing her tune for him.

Anyone could get off to dirty talk. But only someone as twisted as Noah could get hot and bothered to the sound of the Pastor’s daughter abandoning her faith to pray to him.

He is God.

Your God has been dethroned.

You’re his now.

“I tr-trust you with this day,” your eyes were so glossy that it actually tugged at Noah’s heart, “And all that it h-holds,”

“Fuck,” it was a mix of a moan and chuckle as he felt his cock twitch, “Say my prayer, Dove. I know you’re close. Say my prayer and you’ll see the light,”

He gave you a few moments to enjoy his thrusts with an empty mind. Mouth hanging open, breath hitching, tears falling and eyes rolling.

The beauty of this moment must have been what Peter felt when he saw Jesus walk on water.

“C’mon, Dove. Say it with me,” he slowed his pace down to pull out his phone. He wouldn’t record the action, but he needed to record the audio. He needed this and you wanted to put on a show, wanted to prove to him that he made the right choice.

“You can do it,”

You don’t know if you can. He’s so deep, his fingers are circling at a pace that’s too fast. His lips felt like they were searing an imprint onto your skin.

“Look at the cross and pray,”

He softly turned your head back to the gold cross above the door, picking up his pace once more.

“Our Father,” he begins, coaxing you to speak the words.

“Who art in H-Heaven,” the tears were spilling too fast for you to keep up, “Hallowed be thy name,”

His deep tone was mumbling under your high pitched mewls, creating a lovely harmony.

“Thy Kingdom come!!,”

He's bent you forward now. Hand under your chin, other still torturing your clit.

“Th-thy will be d-done,” the cross was hazy now, you were losing your wits about you. This was too good. It was shameful and it felt too good.

“Keep going, baby. You’re making your God so proud,”

You clench around him and you’d have thought there was a dark entity around you with the way he growled.

“On E-Earth as it is in Heav… en,” eyes rolling, there’s spit dripping down your chin and onto the expensive leather that the church tithes paid for.

Noah was on the edge. This was so sinful, even for him, but yet he smiled as he took in the view of your face in the mirror. So innocent. So… dumb. You really did have the eyes of a lamb, no wonder it was so easy for the church to brainwash you. You didn’t know any better.

But it’s okay.

He’s here to set you free.

“Give us this day our daily bread,” he groaned along with you, “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,”

You were almost there. You could see the light. It was coming. This was real. Noah was right.

“And lead us not into t-temptation… b-but deliver us from ev… evil,” you were breathless now. Panting like you were suffering from heat exhaustion.

“For thine is the Kingdom,” Noah interjected, hips not stopping, you could feel your wetness dripping, your stomach was in knots.

“Oh God!,” You trembled beneath him.

“No,” he lightly smacked your cheek, “You can’t step into the light until you’re finished. Be good. You’re almost there. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?,”

“N-no,” you’re sobbing at this point. You can feel it in your guts. He’s stirring you up like brother Jackson’s gumbo. You were so wet. So fucking warm. The veins of Noah matching perfectly within the ridges of your own walls.

“Then finish. You’re almost there,”

“For thine is the Kingdom,” Noah prompted again.

“And the p… the power and the.. the glory forever a-and ever,”

Noah rolled his hips a certain way and pressed harder on your clit and that was your undoing.

“Amen,” he smiled darkly, it gave him a new life purpose to hear you scream and fall apart in his arms while staring at the cross above the door. His stills as he fills you up.

“Oh God!! Oh God, please, please, please,” you’re sobbing, face fallen against the leather chair.

“I’m right here,” he speaks against your shoulder, slowly pulling out of you, admiring the way his cum spills out of you and falls onto the vintage maroon carpet. He figured he should clean it up but then he opted not to.

He turned the recording off and cleaned you up as best as he could before sitting you flat into the chair and holding your face ever so softly in his hands.

“Breathe,” he had to guide you for the next few minutes.

“Am I dead?,” you ask softly. It was the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced. More than when you caught the Holy Ghost during a sermon.

“No, Dove. You’re very much alive,” he kisses your tear stricken cheeks.

“You’ve just been reborn. Welcome to your new purpose. Your new life,”

[saylor-twift]

i just need to rant a bit-

i truly feel like genshin has gone down since natlan, and not even because of the nation itself, but the way the fuckass fandom has reacted to it. i’m not going to lie, i am also disappointed in the execution of many of the characters and the archon quest so far, but i also do not think natlan is nearly as bad as people are making it out to be. i’ve also heard people say that the landscape is the ugliest in the whole game, and can I be honest? i think the biggest reason is because it’s different. most of the other nations have been more muted and/or monochrome, but then we get natlan with its loud music and bright colors and people are upset. (do they not realize that latin america, what natlan is heavily based off of, is also extremely colorful and vibrant??)

i used to love being in this fandom so much because of the community we’ve built, but now it’s all so negative because people look for the bad in everything. like i said, i also think natlan could be better in so many ways, but i also at the same time think that it’s so cool and fun and unique and it makes me sad to see the once passionate community shitting on it every fucking chance they get.

i think if hoyo was better at giving us the diversity they supposedly advertise they have (i.e i am so mad that literally just about every character in the whole damn game has the same skin tone-) that people would be enjoying natlan the way they did sumeru or inazuma (fontaine is still peak imo). when natlan first came out, i remember most people were happy and excited to explore and try the new characters but then people started hating and it festered into this big ugly thing and now i can’t go to a single platform where the genshin fandom exists without getting death threats for saying i like Chasca.

grow up, guys. you’re allowed not to like things, that’s totally totally okay. but we’ve turned the genshin fandom into this nasty place (granted, it was never that great to begin with.. but at least before natlan i didn’t have rats in my ear bashing on me for liking a character/nation every second). it just makes me sad because while natlan could be so much better, people refuse to even try and enjoy it a little bit and now ion even wanna talk to anyone about it anymore.

anyways sorry for this it probably doesn’t make sense sorry for sounding angry but yeh.. i’ve enjoyed natlan. just don’t send me death threats if that makes you angry ig 🤷‍♀️

[simplyholl]

The Villain’s Weapon Pt. 1

Summary: When you hit your head and lose your memory, you fall into Loki’s clutches.

Warnings: Eventual smut. Memory loss. Villain Loki. Thanos.

The battle was never ending. You and the other Avengers were never going to defeat Loki. He had taken Clint and Dr. Selvig using them against you as he took the Tesseract. It didn’t help that he would only show up every now and then to taunt the team. Otherwise you couldn’t locate him.

Loki fought against you. “We have to stop meeting like this, little one.” Loki teased. You used your magic, a cloud of blue surrounding you as you fought back. You underestimated the power you put behind it, the aftershock throwing you back against a boulder. You hit your head with a loud thud as your vision went black.

When you came to, a large man towered over you. You studied his face trying to place him. You couldn’t remember where you were or what you were doing outside. You didn’t even know who you are. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you, little one.” Little one. That was familiar. You obviously knew this strangely dressed man. You look down at your own apparel. You were wearing a leather catsuit, so you couldn’t say anything about him.

You hear fighting all around you. You sit up, suddenly scared of your surroundings. What was happening? Pain surges through your head, you place a hand on it. You were bleeding. Your suit was torn like you had been fighting too. You stand up, feeling a little dizzy. You grab the man before you, pulling him in for a hug. You don’t know why, but you trust him.

He said he was looking for you after all. The term of endearment he used rang a bell. If you were fighting, you must be on his side. He looks down at you like you have lost your mind. Maybe you haven’t hugged before and this was out of character for you. You quickly pull away.

“I’m so sorry. I think I must have hit my head too hard. I can’t remember anything. But you seem familiar. You said you were looking for me, so I just assumed.” He looks at you incredulously. “You really don’t remember who you are or what you are doing out here?” You look around again, not recognizing anyone or anything, but him.

“There seems to be a battle. I assume I’m on your side?” You look into his bright blue eyes as a smile appears on his lips. “Yes, that is correct. Those people over there are the Avengers. They are trying to stop me - erm - us. I’ll tell you more about it once we get back to our lair.”

Loki couldn’t believe his luck. He was waiting for you to come to after the nasty fall you had taken when your magic threw you back. You were powerful, but you didn’t have complete control over your power. With his help, you would be unstoppable. And now, you were on his side.

“She’s dangerous.” Thanos told Loki. “Right now, she isn’t. She doesn’t even know she has powers.” Loki argued. “This is perfect. I will train her, we will use her to fight the Avengers.” Thanos shook his head. “What if her memory comes back? It’s too big of a risk.” Loki paces the floor, “Trust me, she won’t. She took a nasty fall. Just let me try this out before we send the Chitauri.” “You have two months.” Thanos stated as he cut communication.

Loki set up a room for you. He conjured clothes for your closet, shoes in your size, everything you might need in order to convince you that you actually lived here. He found you on the bed, looking out the window. “I’ve come to dress your wounds.” You nod, turning toward him. He examined the cut on your head, green flowing from his hands as he healed it. He explained that he could use magic and apparently so could you. He was going to start retraining you tomorrow.

“The other cuts aren’t as severe so I will clean them myself.” He explained. You slid the strap of your tank top down your shoulder to give him better access to the wound. You gasp when the alcohol wipe touches your skin, causing the area to sting. You watch him intently, long pale fingers working diligently to patch every scratch on you.

“Lay back.” He commands, reaching for the hem of your tank top. You had a large cut just under your breasts. You do as your told, he rolls the fabric up just under your nipples. You hold your breath. Your skin prickles, turning into goosebumps everywhere he touches. Your nipples harden as he patches you up.

Loki notices how you are physically reacting to his touch. How your nipples hardened when he placed his hands on your stomach. How your breath hitched when he pulled your shirt up. The worst part was he could feel his pants growing tighter. He wasn’t surprised that you had that kind of reaction toward him. He was a god after all. But he never expected you to have that effect on him. His hands grew shaky as he finished bandaging you. “Good as new.” He murmured, yanking your shirt down to cover you.

“Loki?” He stopped his retreat from your room, freezing in your doorway. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” You get off the bed, walking toward him, pulling him in for another embrace. He reluctantly pulls you closer to him. You can tell he isn’t a hugger. His large hand smooths the back of your hair. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I was there too.” You bury your face into his chest, breathing him in. He looks down at you, expression unreadable. This is going to be a long two months.

Part Two

Tags

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[suja-janee]

Oooh this might be a controversial take (for the bireena community maybe) but I feel like I need to get it off my chest

I don’t ship sekhan, I feel like that is completely obvious, but-

I didn’t want bireena in khaos reigns either (even before it came out and sekhan became canon)

At most, I wanted them to meet, try to kill each other maybe, have no choice but to team up, and then leave off on a cliffhanger on what the future could hold. LIKE that was it. No romance yet, maybe not even an official friendship, just obscurity to set up their future.

I feel like we’re still at a point where Bi-Han needs to make a lot of personal growth first. The last thing I want him doing is putting his nasty unredeemed hands anywhere near my precious SAREEEENNNAAAA!! If they were to interact at any point in future games or kombat packs, I want the focus to be on redeeming the two (mostly bi-han) cause at the end of the day, I am a Bi-Han fan first, bireena fan second. I will even take it if they just end up as friends if that means he can finally redeem himself and not go down the constant path of evil and being someone’s side-kick.

From my time on twitter I’ve noticed the constant need of some bireena fans to attack sekhan and complain that we didn’t get bireena, which is fair they’re allowed to do that, but I think that’s genuinely the wrong way to look at this whole situation. I mean, if you wanna think in context to how Bi-han acts/ presents himself in this timeline, I actually think he and sektor make perfect sense. He doesn’t like people disagreeing with him and sektor is basically the embodiment of an enabler/ loyalist. OF COURSE, he’d be down for that (which is not to say I like sektor’s writing either, I wanted her to betray Bi-Han and push her own image onto the Lin Kuei). But I think the point of putting him with her (though I don’t want to give NRS any writing credit yet) is to show how messed up his mind is and how he goes for the wrong methods to get what he wants (like liu kang said).

I know we shouldn’t exactly take the Johnny cage announcer voice as canon but I feel like everyone is missing the “future” part in “bi-Han’s future bestie”. They still haven’t even officially met if you don’t count him kicking nitara’s ass at the Ying fortress. If they had gotten together in khaos reigns it would’ve been just as bad and poorly written as sekhan. If you wanna attack sekhan and call it forced because her entire story revolves around a man then you need to also keep in mind that if Sareena had been written as a romantic interest to Bi-Han in khaos reigns it would be the exact same thing. Sareena still has her own soul to redeem and her own past to confront. The last thing she needs is to be with a man that has all the mental maturity of a group of middle schoolers who frequent Hot Topic.

(This portion is my own headcanoning and how I want them to meet, I’ll mark where it ends)

As stated before, I think the main priority should be Bi-Han and Sareena focusing on their redemption arcs if they are to interact with each other in the future. Bi-Han needs to see the error in his ways of thinking and let go of his pride. Sareena needs to see she’s more than just an underling to Quan Chi and break free from his control. If anything, I think the best way to approach this is to maybe bring up MK Mythologies again and have them meet through that. Maybe Bi-Han gets betrayed and gets stuck in the netherrealm and has no choice but to spare a life (Sareena’s) and relies on her to help him get out. That way it would teach him the value of mercy that he didn’t understand in Khaos Reigns. And from there I think in terms of Sareena’s story she sees someone with a tainted soul and feels some empathy about that. Helping him to redeem himself- to her- would be like a way of helping her understand that no soul is too far gone and she herself can be redeemed and help others.

As far as how he would act after being “redeemed” I can’t exactly tell you how I think he would act, especially since he’s not really the apologetic type. But maybe an interesting route he can take is Kuai Liang’s old role in the previous timelines. He’s seen how fa pride can take you and how destructive it is. That way he’s the perfect perspective to redo/ remodel the Lin Kuei. Kuai Liang seems too focused with the Shirai Ryu this time around so if anyone should be redeeming the Lin Kuei it should be the guy who has taken the most mental and physical damage from being a part of it. And from that little plot line, the Shirai Ryu and the Lin Kuei can make peace with each other.

Again, THIS DOESN’T HAVE TO BE ROMANTIC FOR BIREENA. I’m more than happy if they’re just friends in the end. I just want some sort of redemption and closure for them for ONCE! They’ve been subject to so much heartbreak and evil in previous timelines, they deserve better than this one dimensional writing.

(End headcanon here)

I know this may all come off as hypocritical coming from me, the most frequent poster in the bireena tag 😂, but keep in mind the type of content I post. I VERY CLEARLY do not take myself or my art very seriously and most of my art is comedy based. So before you sharpen your pitchforks and sum me up as just another bireena artist, just know I draw what entertains me the most and I’m usually not serious about it.

Do I still want bireena? Or course I do. I just don’t want it NOW. I’m willing to wait- I don’t want forced/ rushed writing on a ship I’ve devoted myself to for the past year.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 14

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Chapter summary: Past. Jean wants Logan back Present. Wade gives the truth.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

EXTRA WARNING: Brief mention of self harm not from reader.

a/n: Almost no dolly this chapter, and i think after this we need a bonus chapter with Jean's POV. Just remember the old saying from Wizards of Waverly Place. Everything is not as it seems.

A/N2: shout out to my friend @miraclesabound for giving the the idea of wade 4th walling lol. Sorry if you havn't read any of my other works, but just know I have a nack that most of my oc's/readers are traumatized, whether in dark fics or not.

3.4k words

Before

He was on his way to see you. 

Of course Jean had to get in the way of that. How different would things be if Jean had just minded her own business?

“Off to see 19 Kids and Counting?” Jean nearly cornered him in the hall, her red hair down and she smiled up at him; her lashes were thick. That wasn’t a surprise, she was blessed with beautiful features but they were darker. She was wearing make-up. Still, it was her smile that gave him pause. It was that smile she gave him when she wanted something.

Logan tried to brush past. “Being nasty isn’t a good look on you, gorgeous.”

He sees her facade falter, the confidence she walked in with faded with it. Nonetheless, she followed after him. “That’s why you’ve been ignoring me, isn’t it? For her?”

“You have a husband.”

“Never stopped you before.”

With that, Logan whipped around to face her. He swore he saw her flinch, and hated that he liked it. “What do you want, Jeannie? Don’t you have god's perfect boy scout to peg?”

Still, she settled her face even as he loomed over her. She liked to do this in bed, pretending she had some sort of control. Sometimes Logan would let her have it, putting his healing factor to the test; sometimes he tested her back, saw how much she could take until he saw her at the breaking point, then slowly walked it back. He couldn’t leave any marks on her, however… didn’t stop him from sneaking a hickey in. It was so much more fun than Scott could give her, he knew that.

“I want you.” Jean stated plainly.

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes but not walking away. “Oh fuck off. What, your boy toy ain’t cutting it in bed?”

Without even hesitating, she shook her head; her red curls brushed her shoulders. “Not nearly. He makes me cum, too. Multiple times but it’s not enough. It’s not like it was with you.”

His ears perked up at that. Jean knew he had a weakness for being praised. Not ready to hand her over the power just yet, he took a step closer. Jean took half a step back. “Tell me the truth.”

Her lip wavered just a bit, and Logan finally saw the hurt in her green eyes. “He doesn’t pay attention to me.”

“And you think I will?”

“You always did before.”

“That was before her.” You, his beautiful doll faced girl. You were the one for him.

“Logan.” Jean grabbed his shirt, pulling him to her. He felt her stiff nipples through their thin shirts and could smell her arousal. No doubt her telepathy sensed he was becoming turned on, even if it wasn’t manifesting in his cock yet. “We were good together. We were. C’mon, you know it. And you miss me. I know you miss me, Logan. She can’t be giving you what I did, if she’s giving you anything at all.”

It had been… a while since Logan got laid. Maybe a week before coming back to the house, Logan fucked a girl in Wade’s shitty pull out. Must’ve done a good enough job because she never complained about the lumps and stains. Other than that, he’s been all eyes on you. And since you wanted to wait… here he was. Waiting.

“That’s none of your damn business.”

But she smirked as she felt his cock grow hard against her belly. “Logan…” She ran her hands up and down his chest. “It could be us again. Just you and me.”

Despite the horniess clouding his brain, he huffed a laugh. “Yeah, you gonna leave Scott?”

“Are you going to leave her?”

No answer. She didn’t seem to need one, and Logan supposed he didn’t either. It’s not like you and him were together, were you? Sure, you and him had practically admitted it to Kurt during the movie… and everyone knew…. But what was the harm? Okay, so he’d let off a little steam with Jean. He’d give her the love she wasn’t getting from Scott. Sure, he let her pull him into a closet nearby, but so what? He’d be a little late meeting you, is all.

Putting her face down on the cold floor, Logan fucked Jean, pounding into her every frustration he’d felt with her, every hurt she’d caused until he felt himself almost there. Then, he’d pull out and make her cum on his fist. Logan did this twice, twice until she was a drooling, sobbing mess on the floor. Knelt on the ground, Logan picked her up by the neck as he stood, his dick still throbbing, ready to cum down her throat… but he liked to tease her a little. 

He enjoyed seeing her like this, the powerful telepath and absolute mess. Her make was running down her face, hair a mess, prystine clothing half-torn. But she smiled at him.

“Does your baby doll do it like this?”

That was her first mistake. Logan tightened his fist around her throat, and enjoyed the way her eyes widened just a little. Breath play was nothing new. “No, but my baby doll can give me what you can’t.”

Her brows pinched together. Ah, he struck a nerve. “What, you want to settle down, have a family, live a normal life?” She chuckled, the sound rough and a little gargled as she held the wrist holding her up on her tiptoes as her shoes perched her up enough to breathe. Jean could easily fight back, but she liked this, she liked it rough.

“So what if I do, Jeannie?”

A blink. A breath. “I can be that.”

It was Logan’s turn to laugh now. “Oh yeah, you’re gonna abandon everything here? The students? Scott? Charles?”

She shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a family Logan.”

Anger bubbled up inside him, and before he crushed her windpipe, Logan threw her to the ground. He stood over her as she coughed for air.

“Girls only like the bad guys for a little fun, huh? They don’t settle down with them?” Logan repeated back what she had told him so many years ago. “ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU SAID?!?”

Still naked, Jean stands her, her eyes determined. “You’re not a bad guy Logan!”

Logan pulls up his jeans, his belt rattling. “Oh fuck off. You’ll never be her.” He turned around, tucking his white tank top into his pants and beginning to buckle again.

“At least I can get pregnant.”

He paused. There were a lot of thoughts in his head right now. Firstly, how did she know Dolly couldn’t get pregnant? Or rather, Dolly and her husband couldn’t have a baby? Secondly… Jean and Scott didn’t have kids, Scott didn’t want any. He always said the school were his kids. Logan slowly turned around, trying to keep her anger at bay, his cock still throbbing in his pants, aching for release. “What do you mean, Jeannie?”

She looked like she regretted it, but there was no turning around now.

“Remember last year, when I left suddenly for a mission? I had an abortion. I found out I was pregnant and took care of it.”

He took in her words, the gears slowly processing the information. “Scott got you pregnant?”

She shook her head.

Another pause. “You aborted my baby?”

“I had an abortion. I didn’t- fuck, it wasn’t a fucking baby, I hadn’t even missed my period yet.”

“You. Aborted. My. Baby.”

“Logan! Listen to me!” Jean reached up to cup his face. “Listen to what I’m saying. We could try again, we could have a family just- just stay with me, Logan. I’ll leave Scott, I’ll leave him for good, it’ll just be you and me.”

There was silence. A long, long wind of silence… he looked down at her, her eyes desperately waiting for an answer. How long had Logan wanted this? How long had he suffered, wishing to be more than Jean’s side piece, seducing her slowly and trying to win her over but night after night she crawled into her husband's bed dripping with Logan’s cum… still, it was Scott’s bed she slept in, not Logan’s. 

But there was an anger in him, a fury that he feared he couldn’t control.

“If I stay here a second longer I’ll claw you up enough you won’t be having anyones baby.”

He left her naked and alone in the supply closet.

*

Fucking whore. Dumb fucking slut can’t decide between two fucking dicks so she has to have it both ways. Has to use that fucking slit between her legs to manipulate me, lets her make her cum but doesn’t get me off. What kind of slut cheats on her husband and then gets an abortion to cover it up? 

She killed his baby. Stupid fucking selfish cunt, typical woman only thinks for herself and her pussy, no care for anyone else. She’d only cheat on Logan like she did Scott. For years Logan though if he just treated her right, fucked her right she’d leave Scott, but since when do women follow logic? She probably got plenty from Scott, just used that oh poor me face to get Logan to fall into this trap over and over again. That’s all women do, use, use, use. 

Then, he found himself at your door. Breathing heavy, his hand brushed over the door handle. 

Not you.

You were different.

You were raised to keep sweet and obey. Raised to be the perfect little mommy…

A good girl…

“Logan? Is that you?” he heard your sweet voice from the other side of your doorway. 

You’d invited him to your room after class, promising to show him how you made scented candles. It was a sweet gesture, one that required a lot of trust to invite him into your bedroom. Well, bedroom/living area/dining room. Each room functioned as a studio apartment. Still, the only time he’d been in your room before now was when you’d been sick. Other than that, only Remy was in your room and even then it wasn’t for long.

“Come on in, my hands are full.”

It was like he was in a trance as soon as he opened the door. 

Logan could always smell when you were on your period or ovulating. He could smell it on anyone in the mansion who went through a cycle. Most of the time he could tune it out. Logan didn’t particularly want to know the inner workings of Ororo or Emma (although it did help predict Emma’s moods), but he CERTAINLY did not want to know with Rogue or the younger girls or students.

But right now, you? You in this closed room, your cunt just dripping and the pheromones just pouring out of you… you were ovulating.

When the door opened, you were just setting down the glasses you’d be making candles with. Your dress was light blue, and you beamed at him as he stood there. You always looked at him like he was something special.

“Hiya Lo!!!” You stand up, your skirt brushing the chair. “Ready to make some candles?”

After

“I gotta say, honey badger, I never thought I’d see the day you were all wifed up like this!” Wade practically skipped into the common room, Logan pouring whiskey into a few glasses.

“Yeah, well, me neither. Thought I’d be under that cunt’s thumb forever.”

Wade, noticeably, side swiped that comment. “Well, I’m just happy to see you happy. Your girl’s a peach!” He said with startling sincerity. 

Logan gave a little smile. “Yeah, she is. A good girl, not like Jean, the fucking whore.”

Logan didn’t miss the face Wade made. “Whoa there, Incelimus Prime.” He put his hands on his hips. “ Let’s not forget you were a willing, very willing, if I remember, participant in the said whoring.”

“I’m not having this argument again.”

“Let’s not.” An awkward pause as Wade and Logan took a strong drink from their cups, easing the tension. Logan and Wade had argued about this a few times. Wade didn’t see, he couldn’t fucking get it that Jean was at fault here. And Scott. If Scott had given her what she needed, she wouldn’t be searching for it with him. 

Wade started again. “Either way, I’m happy for you. Both of you. I mean I don’t know exactly what her deal is but considering she’s like… that, i’m guessing she’s the traumatized reader sort. This is a Roman fanfiction, after all, and we all know how he writes his readers and OC’s.”

“What the fuck are you-”

“I mean, Leather and Lace alone. Jesus christ, it’s like every chapter of that universe drops another horrific part of Laci lore. What do you MEAN she had a miscarraige! Hasn’t that girl been through enough!?”

“You’ve lost me, Wade. Listen, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“So, with Dolly dressing like a stepford wife and getting you all to pray before meals, I assumed there was a little weird shit happening.”

“Wade…” His tone was a warning, and Wade raised his hands in defense.

“Hey! Like I said, she’s a peach! Just saying, I put the pieces together. Given all that, it’s nice to see her happy. All smiling and pregnant with Winston Jr.”

“That’s not his name.”

“You better treat her right, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Wade was teasing, but he had no idea how close he was to the truth, even if he was half-incomprehensible as usual. Logan needed to talk to him. Not that this was his fault, because it’s not. It’s all Jean’s fault as usual.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You know, things are going suspiciously well for you, actually. Usually halfway through the pregnancy, things are going well and the reader thinks she’s sooooo in love and that she fixed him, and then BOOM!” Wade yells so loud even Logan jumps, eyes wide as he tries to figure out what the fuck he was talking about. “The guy shows that he is STILL insane! I mean, we all remember what happened with Joel and little one.” 

“Do we?”

Wade wipes a tear. “RIP Little One. You are missed.”

Logan pinches his brow. “Are you done?”

“Not yet. Roman has a bit he’s trying to get out, and he keeps fucking up the dialouge.”

“Okay?”

“ANYWAY. I don’t need to worry, but that’s what blog is he posting you on, again? RomanaRose or Romana-After-Dark?”

“I thought this person is called Roman?”

“Yes yes gender is all very complicated and new to you, we know, you fucking neanderthal. I’m pulling up his ao3” Knowing better than to continue arguing, Logan just waits for Wade to finish his bit.

Wade’s smile fades a little bit as he looks at his phone, then gives a nervous chuckle. “Well that’s odd. It’s listed under the rape/non con.”

“What?”

He scrolls on. “Does he show Dolly’s past graphically or something?” he peaks up at Logan, looking unconvinced. “You know Roman,”

“I don’t”

“Loves a good tragic backst- oh…” His nervous smile is gone, looking through the first chapter before turning his phone to Logan. “This you?”

*

Logan tried to explain, he really did.

“This is what I wanted to talk to you about!”

Disgust marred Wade’s features, framed in scarred skin and confused eyes. “Did you fucking rape her? What the hell?”

Logan buried his face in his hands. “It wasn’t like that Wade, please, just give me a chance to explain.”

There was silence for a minute as Wade considered the information. Well, Roman was known for poor spelling and not being a reliable narrator, so maybe Logan had an explanation.

“This had better be good.”

Logan’s eyes never left the floor, his elbows popped on his spread legs and hands drooped down. He spoke carefully.

“She- we were… taking it slow. Your right, she had a lot going on… She was married before. Grew up in a cult, married as a teenager. I think she said, uh, 16? Her husband was in his 20’s”

Wade gagged loudly.

“Yeah. Well, he also beat her senseless. Made her miscarry, then blamed her for not being able to have kids.”

“Should you be telling me this? Kinda personal, tbh.”

Logan groaned. “I’m just… I’m trying to paint a picture.”

“It’s painted.”

“Okay. Okay… well, she was in a bad way, ended up here after Charles found her so we were taking it slow… But then Jean.”

“Ahhhhhgg!” Wade surprised him yelling and hitting the table. “Dammit Logan, you can’t blame everything wrong in your life on Jean!”

“But she-”

“I don’t care! You’re a grown ass man!”

Logan stood up, yelling as he beat his chest. “He aborted my baby! She’s a selfish whore and-”

“WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH YOUR GIRL?”

How to make him see? Logan calmed himself, his voice pleading for understanding. “She was different. I just… I couldn't wait. I love her so much, Wade, you gotta understand. I needed her to be mine, I needed her to stay…”

Wade scoffed. “So you baby trapped her? I am far from an expert, that’s not fucking love.” His tone was incredulas, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What in the non con yandere breeding kink is happening here!”

Scrubbing his face with his hands, he tries to explain.

“It’s not like that. I knew we could be happy together… I just needed her to see… I needed her, Wade. Jean told me what she did and I just… fuck Wade I wanted to kill Jean right there, gut her open… trying to get in the way, get inbetween me and my Dolly…” His voice cracked. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Something shifted in Wade’s demeanor, and Logan took as an in. “but… you didn’t hurt her, right? Jean? Because last time I checked, this fic was before the phoenix arc, so I don’t think Jeans got healing powers.”

Logan shook his head. “No, no… I just… I went to Dolly and I- we… we consummated our love… and now we have Stevie. We have Stevie because of what I did and I refuse to feel sorry for that.”

“Consummated your love…” Wade muttered, shaking his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

His shoulders dropped. “Because… I might have fucked up.”

“Might have? Buddy, we are way beyond might have. We’re wayyyy beyond fucked up.”

“Not- fuck, not that…”

“There’s more?”

He nodded. This… this was not going to make things better.

“Jean… she… at the party.”

Wade buried his face into his hands. “Just spit it out, brother.”

 “She said something… we were having a good time talking and… she called me pussy whipped.”

Wade waited, like he expected something more. “... and?”

“And?” Logan scoffed. “I’ll be dead in the ground before I let a cunt control me again, Wade!”

He opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. “And what did you do about that? Because the party seemed like a funky good time for everyone.”

“Dolly and I… might have gotten in a fight after the party.”

“Oh wonderful.”

“And… she might be concussed right now…” Logan couldn’t look Wade in the eye, but heard him whisper.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Logan.”

For the next half hour, Logan tried to explain himself. Wade was a chilling sort of calm, hearing him out. When Wade shuts his mouth, you know it’s bad. The only times Logan remembers that happening is when he’s eating, or Logan was having one of his fits. “Fits” is the only way Logan would describe them, moments where everything with Jean had driven him to such drastic points Wade would be stuck holding him, testing his own strength to keep Logan from hurting himself.

But for this, Wade listened. And for the night, he thought Wade understood him. The mouthy, annoying, weird little fucker strangely understood Logan in a way no one else could. Logan loved Kurt, but Kurt was a pure soul who could never understand the depths of depravity in Logan’s head. Wade was different, Wade was like him. Mercenary, gun for hire, willing to kill and torture and destroy in the name of keeping those he loved safe, just as Logan did. Just as Logan would do for you.

He’d do it all for you, Dolly.

He’d do it all again.

Logan you weird little incel. i hope that side of him is becoming clear, I modled a lot of this logan off incel talking points and incels ive knowl irl. Now, dont take the word incel literally, because onviously logan is far from celibate, he gets pussy as much as he wants, thats not a problem for him. but he still have that 4chan red pill Return of Kings brainrot.

Im interested to see what we think of jean IN THIS SERIES

notjean in comics or movies, this jean specifically.

LMK your thoughts on jean!

I hope you liked the 4th wall break lol. Leather and lace referenced is a non dark triple frontier universe. it has multiple series, but starts with leather and lace about santiago garcia and an OC, laci.

The wrong way is Joel miller x reader, which is nicknamed "little one". That series is uhhhh very dark lol.

asks are always welcome in this universe, as with any!!! thanks so much for reading, your comments and encouragement mean the world to me!

I have a job interview tomorrow so if you're religous, please pray for me <3 it would make a huge different financially to get this job 1. better pay 2. more hours 3. student loan help

thanks so much!

were getting closer to the end, but tbh im not entirely sure how close!

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia a @new-genesis100 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight @nonamevenus

[clocainiac]

HERE COMES THE WLW!!! This was a request from Ao3 for Wembley Greasedinah headcanons so i hope i can feed yall! these headcanons are based off of lilianna and lara’s version because look at the cuties, no look at them, YOU AREN’T LOOKING! ALSO loads of these headcanons are gross and weird because i want them to be, i just love making horrendous headcanons for my favourite characters, the more i love them the grosser the headcanons! ALSO ALSO big thanks to @dove-bunny-love for inspiring some of these!

GREASEDINAH:

- Greaseball and Dinah both fight with their bangs every fucking day like i’m talking WW3 type shit, they will both be in the bathroom crashing out as they try making the perfect bang ratio, its the most stressful bonding experience you can imagine as they try to convince eachother their bangs look perfect.

- Also while they are working together if there’s the slightest hint of wind and their bangs lift up, Greaseball will start cussing out the sky, just verbally assaulting the clouds and all the other coaches have to listen in awkwardness as Dinah comforts GB.

- GB is the prime suspect for stinking out the sheds with body spray, you can always tell where she’s been because she sweats Lynx body spray, SPECIFICALLY the Africa scent. Tassita and Belle will go to the Coaches Shed after a long day at work and just get absolutely gassed by the GreaseMonster sitting on their sofa. GB always has a full stock as-well since the trains at the yard never know what to buy her for Christmas so she gets 50 million Africa Lynx sets.

- Dinah on the other hand smells gorgeous either imagine sugar cookings with a hint of vanilla OR bubblegum by Moschino. Also when Dinah first went for a ‘sleepover’ ;) in GB’s shed she found her 5 in 1 gel and the Lynx bottle army. Dinah was horrified, since then she forced GB to buy separate products for hair and body but GB still doesn’t grasp the problem with her 5 in 1.

- I’m sorry not sorry GB lovers (I swear I do like GB I just give them the nastiest head canons because they are the nasty) BUT GB has the stinkiest, eye watering, gag evoking farts known to man. It’s sulphuric hell, just straight up toilet stench and she DGAF! GB is a straight up villain as-well because unless Dinah is behind her she will crop dust like no tomorrow. ‘This is my back view and it’s all you’ll see?’ no buddy it’s what we can all smell; Dinahs farts literally smell like roses and world peace because she is PERFECT and you LEAVE HER ALONE!

- When it’s root cover up season, GB and Dinah both have to take a weekend off work because it’s a hands on affair. GB can mostly get away with being less precise with dying her hair but Dinah’s has to be PERFECT, like she will spend 12 hours just perfectly separating her hair before she can even use a hint of dye.

- Not only that but the will shed turns into a modern art project with multicoloured splats everywhere which Dinah has tried everything to get it out of the walls and furniture but to no avail so she leaves it up to interpretation for guests.

- The moment Dinah breaches her and GB’s shed, Dinah’s makeup, hair and clothes get shredded off. There’s a humongous pile of bobby pins and elastics on Dinah’s vanity as she meticulously pulls out each one, if GB comes back in time she will skate up behind Dinah and do it for her with so much care, that Dinah can’t help the tears that wet her eyes.

- When GB finally undoes Dinah’s buns and can successfully run her calloused fingers through Dinah’s hair without any snags, she gives Dinah the best head massage you could imagine. She hits all the right spots and the ache of the day just melts away.

- GB is really bad at communication, as in she can’t articulate her feelings properly which is why she’s so rash and reckless because that’s how she feels heard. This means that instead of telling Dinah how she feels she will avoid the question and start talking about something else so it’s like a riddle for Dinah to get the bottom of a problem with GB.

-Also sometimes GB just responds to Dinah verbally with emojis instead of having a conversation. For example Dinah will say “I’m thinking of baking something, maybe some cookies?” and GB will respond with “Thumbs up, Smiley face, Heart” So Dinah is stood there like wtf are you saying…ALSO GB is the most nonchalant texter ever like she will respond with ‘k’ and ‘sure’ constantly which drives Dinah CRAZY.

- GB chews everything, like straws so whenever her and Dinah try to romantically share drinks it gets ruined because the straw has been chewed so much you can barely suck anything out of it. And GB scrans paper. That’s it. No but seriously when GB is bored and reading something (which is rare) she will just start eating the corners of the paper or rolling them into mini toothpicks. So when Dinah picks up sticky notes or letters around the house all the corners will be missing and suspiciously wet.

- Although GB acts tough in the yard she is the fattest snugglebug in the world! The moment it hits 10pm Dinah gets dragged into the bedroom, undressed for skin to skin, then forced onto the bed so GB can entangle their bodies together. Not even for sexual reasons, she just loves being close to her. Many mornings, Dinah will wake up to a mullet in her face as GB’s face is smooshed into her boobs.

- Dinah loves bath time and her personal space! Turns out GB loves these things too! If GB actually realises she’s made Dinah upset, GB will make her a hot bubbly bath with a couple candles (that totally didn’t go wrong while lighting them…) Dinah can’t help but giggle and swoon as she soaks and GB will sit on the toilet nattering with her. I think these two are suckers for the simple domestics.

- There’s always lipstick marks on them! Even a simple kiss on the cheek means a big smudge of either yellow or hot pink/red. Currently GB and Dinah haven’t found a solution or compromise for this, so they just suck it up and go with the flow meaning when they have their rendezvous it’s very, very obvious.

- Whilst Dinahs baking, GB makes it her personal challenge to eat as much of the batter as possible before it gets cooked. This means that if Dinah goes for a two second toilet break she will come to half the batter gone and GB smacking her lips together like a dog with peanut butter as she tries to swallow the evidence. Dinah has warned her about the effects of salmonella but come on this is GB we are talking about she dgaf!

- This is a really silly one but the thought of it made me giggle so hard, you know that video of the Pizza Hut worker who cinched their apron really tight while doing the K. Howard trend from SIX? Yeah Dinah does that every time with her apron and GB still can’t figure out how.

- Cunty eyelashes to the max. You heard me, GB and Dinah have a huge drawer just dedicated to lashes and there is every lash imaginable (even glitter, or multicoloured ones!)

- Sometimes GB will just forget she’s a woman, she will start scratching her ‘balls’ and Dinah will look at her disgusted. In response GB goes “What my balls itch?” And Dinah will have to awkwardly remind her she doesn’t have any.

- Guys I promise I don’t hate GB I just want to squeeze her so tight her head falls off her shoulders. I actually love her sm I want to crush her and Dinah and then use them as play doh.

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Selfish ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Dazai Osamu

a/n: hiiii h i hii! my first fic in god FOUR years??? i have never written for BSD before... but i'm excited to be a part of this community and get back into the ff writing scene and get to know everyone! i hope you will accept me as a part of ur community & that i can learn from everyone *__* onto the fic!

this takes place (s2 spoiler!) after oda's death while dazai is in port before he quits to join the detective agency. reader is female.

genre: angst and da nasty, f!reader

content: dazai is a meanie to you :((( meaningless sex, no aftercare, toxic and unrequited feelings, it's giving emotionally unavailable guy from tinder that you can't help but run to oops?

**minors DNI** cunnilingus & later he's a bit rough with you during sex

why is he so selfish? is it not so selfish to act this way? a girl like you in the port mafia head’s bedroom. shouldn’t you be with some do-gooder? you know dazai isn’t going to be your boyfriend, right? no matter how right you treat him?

he’s not going to say the words, ‘i love you,’ and the warmth you feel in his arms is lost in his eyes. leaning against his desk, dazai absent-mindedly uncloaks his jacket, staring out the apartment window that looks over yokohama. there’s a certain solemnity in his gaze, something that you can never read. these days, dazai feels more and more distant – even more than before.

you approach him from the doorway. gingerly, your fingertips graze his hand, which is idling on some papers on his desk. you touch him, and he doesn’t move, not even an inch, his hand limp and cold against yours. no, don’t touch me, he feels an urge to say. the thought even surprises him, though he understands the impulse. now that odasaku’s gone and died, this body of his suddenly feels dirty. he remembers oda’s words.

don’t touch me, dazai thinks to himself. he aches at your touch. but he relents. sighs into your touch, even.

“dazai, what’s wrong?”

his lips turn down slightly in a frown at your inquiry, eyes clouded over in thought. it’s only a moment. barely noticeable, though your keen eye observes it. then he chirps up, “well well, shall we get to it?” he brushes you aside completely. there it is again, that facade of his that comes so naturally it’s got everyone fooled… almost everyone, anyway. he turns around with that smile on his face. that fake smile of his that’s always bothered you. that smile haunts you.

dazai’s fingers find your waist, his hand settling on the small of your back. now, it’s you who wants to push him away.

he never answers your questions – he just leaves you in the shadow like the others.

“you said you have a treat for me, yes? you know i don’t like to wait for these kind of things~” he hums, looking at you devilishly. “now, how about we get right to it?”

this is always how it goes.

now his breath is hot on your neck, his voice a whisper in your ear. his grip on your hips tighten.

“dazai–” you gasp, suddenly becoming weak for him as he corners you into the desk. why is he so selfish? he thinks to himself again. he knows he’s being selfish. but he can’t help it. your body is warm, and his is so very cold. he wants to steal your warmth and keep it all to himself.

“ah-ha, don’t act so surprised now,” he teases, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth. “this is what you want, right?” he pulls back again to make sure, a grin on his face. “or am i mistaken?” he’s not wrong – your little rendezvous at his apartment always start and end like this. you can never resist him. you feel your defenses lower. you want his defenses to lower for you, too.

but you know he’s not going to say the words, ‘i love you,’ and the warmth you feel in his arms is lost in those cold, unfeeling eyes.

why are you like this? you’re wondering to yourself. you know you’re being naïve again. why are you just like the others? you can’t stop comparing yourself to them, the countless imaginary women in your head. the thought of them makes you feel so helpless, so angry. when you relent to his touch like this, when you let him hold you like this, it feels so wrong. how many women has daza touched? how many girls has he brought here? did they all feel this way? do their hearts pound like yours? ache like yours?

“dazai…” your voice is weak. your voice is a whisper.

your voice is full of want.

your voice is full of need.

“i like it when you say my name,” he murmurs softly against your earlobe, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, a flippant grin forming on his lips as he brushes your hair to the side. you know just what comes next… and you’re not going to fight it, either.

his fingers travel up your body, then he grasps your neck in his hands. he teases the tender skin with his tongue, languidly licking along the side before finally taking you into his mouth and sucking gently. rougher, but never rough enough to leave a mark. he knows better than to mark you. you’re not his, and he’s not yours.

your head is spinning. your hand immediately goes for his pants, but he pushes you aside. “not yet –” slender fingers grab a hold of your waist and hoist you up to the table. “– face fuck me first.” he says it so casually and deadpan, it catches you off guard and makes your cheeks flush red. then he kneels before you and suddenly smirks up, some playful glint in his eye as he chuckles to himself, leaving you at a complete loss for words. dazai’s always like this, completely unreadable and unpredictable.

large hands travel up your skirt, smoothing the skin of your thighs. his gaze is full of wanton heat, full of lust, as his wandering fingers toy with the garter of your panties before slowly pulling your underwear down your legs. you shiver quietly and look away. “ah, embarrassed, are you?” he quirks his eyebrow, looking up at you deviously. no matter how much you’ve done this, you can’t help but feel flustered every single time. as you avert your gaze once again, he protests with a loud, exaggerated sigh. “uh-uh, eyes on me or i won’t do it at all. you want to watch, don’t you~?”

pulling you closer to him, he presses you to his eager lips. his tongue is warm and wet, and it knows you all too well from nights spent wrapped in his bandaged arms. you gasp at the sudden heat that envelops you, finding your hands suddenly tangled in his soft brown hair. he moans quietly against you, letting you know he enjoys your pleasure just as much, his fingers digging deep into the fat of your thighs. you try not to look but end up peeking at him only to meet his gaze, staring up at you shamelessly as he eats you, his saliva and your arousal smeared across his lips. soon enough, you feel his fingers penetrating you, one finger at first then two and three; he’s preparing you for him. you want him – “please… dazai… dazai…” his name is all you know, a quiet prayer on your lips. this man will be the end of you.

without saying a word, he suddenly grabs you again and tosses you on the bed with a reckless thud. you hear him shuffle through the desk for a condom, then he flips you onto your knees and pushes you into the mattress nonchalantly, like you’re no one at all. he doesn’t bother to take off the rest of your clothes or even his; he just unzips and lifts your skirt again, hands roughly grabbing a hold of your ass, then you feel the tip pressing flush against your entrance. “i’m gonna put it in now,” he says callously, not an ounce of feeling in his voice.

you’re so wet that it takes no time for you to stretch for him. he chuckles from behind you, an empty laugh. “i guess you enjoyed?” he teases, “you’re basically begging for it at this point.

reaching out to stroke your hair, dazai’s touch is gentle and almost loving as he lets the tendrils slip delicately through his fingertips. there it is again, you think to yourself as you feel a pang in your heart. that wretched touch that’s so achingly sweet it confuses you. there’s always that sudden switch up with, fleeting moments where he’s a different person. but it’s only an instance. he presses himself inside of you with a shaky breath, pushing you into the mattress roughly, and you find yourself in reality again. you don’t face each other. instead, you bury your face into the bed as he pulls you against him again and again and again until you forget all about that moment.

it’s better than way, you think to yourself. sometimes looking into his eyes is too confusing.

…

after all’s done, there’s nothing but silence between the two of you. dazai’s at his desk organizing some papers, and you’re sitting on the bed trying to collect yourself as the feeling of shame overtakes you. another night spent in this mysterious man’s bed, knowing you’re in love with someone who you can’t possibly ever have. as usual, you’re the first to break the silence. no point in asking him any more questions, or trying to make conversation. you’ve learned your place. “i should probably go,” you say.

dazai looks up at you for a second, almost disappointed, as though he were expecting you to ask him for more. it’s a rare instance of hesitation that surprises even him. “you can stay if you want,” he says flawlessly, acting it was a normal thing for him to ask you to stay in the middle of the day, for no reason at all. it catches you off guard, but the way that it comes out so naturally has you convincing yourself that the pause meant nothing. after all, what would dazai want with you? dazai is the head of port mafia. you are no one to him.

“didn’t you say there was something you wanted to give me?” he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

oh, that explains it all.

“oh, that — i, uh... i totally forgot,” you lie through your teeth. he looks almost disappointed, this time visibly frowning. but he perks up in no time.

“ah-ha, you’re so scatterbrained,” he says cheerfully, ruffling your hair. his words are followed by the emptiest laugh.

“next time?”

but dazai’s not there anymore. “right,” he says plainly, but he knows there is no next time. right, he’s being selfish, he thinks to himself. there’s no point in this at all.

you smile as best as you can, then the two of you wave farewell. as you walk down the steps of his apartment, you crumple an envelope in your hands, the reason you came in the first place, to deliver a letter you’d written weeks ago.

dazai:

i can’t see you anymore. it hurts to.

i can’t understand you at all.

i couldn’t tell you face to face because i knew i would cry.

i’m sorry i’m selfish.

you brought your hand to your mouth, suppressing the sob that was about to escape you. in your heart, somehow, you knew you couldn’t stop seeing him. his touch, his hands, his warmth, his scent. the way that he kissed you; the way that he fucked you. that lost look in his eyes. no, you could never leave him - for it’s become all too routine to you now.

what does he dream about? what does he smile about? what does he cry about? why do these things matter so much to you?

with these thoughts in your mind, you let your arms fall limply to your side and tossed the envelope into the garbage as you walked mindlessly from his apartment, the bitter taste of dazai’s tongue still on your lips.

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @v6que~!

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“If You Don’t Look Good, We Don’t Look Good” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Shameless Smut (I got carried away), Cameo Appearance by Soft!Dom Dean, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 4200

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

Neither one of you have had to use it – until you get a text from Sam. A case has gone all kinds of awful for Dean. You are not ready for the version of Dean you have to face in the aftermath.

Notes: This is total self-indulgence because I miss This Dean.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Hair Pulling" square.

Image created in Canva (links for photos used - found on Google: Jensen Ackles, Liverpool Comic Con, 2023; Jensen Ackles Photo Shoot

66

You stare, mid-muffin chew, at Sam’s text.

“Fuck me.” A few stray crumbs and a rogue blueberry land on a page of lore you should probably be more careful with. But you can’t be bothered with MOL reference handling procedures at the moment.

This is Red Alert. Defcon 5. Designated Survivor Mode Activated.

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

“Fuck.” There’s no point in continuing to curse to yourself. “Fuck.” But you can’t help it. Neither one of you has ever had to use it before. You’d come close a few times.

The book is forgotten, pushed to the side on the table surface. Your fingers glide over the phone’s keyboard.

Is he alright?!? What happened? Please, tell me this is a joke?

I wouldn’t joke about this. Sam’s words bubble up, line by line. Well, I made the mistake of joking right after it happened. It’s gotten progressively worse the entire drive back. He hasn’t said a single word since we got in the car. IDK what’s gonna happen.

“Fuck.”

Should I evacuate? How much time do I have?

Just pulled into the garage.

Shit, Sam! Do you not understand how a code word for disaster preparedness works? One needs enough time to actually prepare for the disaster!

You wait. More bubbles. Then nothing. Maybe Sam didn’t make it out alive. Maybe you should make a run for it through the war room and up the stairs. Save yourself.

I received some communication. He’s headed straight for the showers. Meet you in the lab.

“A what?”

“Musca.” Sam sighs. “Ever seen ‘The Fly’?”

“On cable years ago, filtered through my fingers.”

Sam continues. “They secrete this sticky goo to build a nest.” His mouth crinkles. “Dean landed in it.”

“The nest?” you ask.

“The goo. A puddle of the stuff. Monster fluids freak him out.”

You shiver in disgust at the thought. “Fuck creature feature fluids. 100% in agreement.”

“So, we tracked the musca to its hideout in an abandoned factory. We split up when we got inside…”

“Why do you always split up?” you ask, following it with a frustrated groan.

Sam purses his lips and then proceeds. “When I found him, he was basically glued to this massive conveyor belt holding the goo like it was a kiddie pool. I had to cut him out of most of his clothes to free him.”

The thought of a half-naked Dean has you shiver for other reasons. “Poor guy,” you add in an effort to express sympathy over your dirty thoughts.

Sam chuckles.

You straighten with worry Sam has figured out your crush on his brother. Ready to dispute any yearnings, you add a grumbly edge to your voice and the question. “What was funny about any of that?”

Sam fists long strands on the right side of his scalp high in the air. “Even his hair got stuck to the belt. I had to hack half of it off.” He fingers his bangs back into effortless waves. “Once we killed it, Dean mumbled, ‘Vidal Sassoon you ain’t, fucker.’”

You shrug, confused. “Well, I mean, I get the trauma from the nasty gnat excretions. But that doesn’t explain why you had to warn of a possible Dean disaster.”  

Sam’s gaze tears from yours to stare at the floor by his boots.

“Sam?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I might have said something like, ‘We can’t all be masterful hunters with glorious locks.’”

You frown. “Sam…”

Sam raises a hand in defense. “Hey, maybe now he’ll finally shut up about my hair being a liability. I mean, hello, I’ve still got mine.”

The temptation to knock on Dean’s bedroom door is great. But you refrain, hiding away in yours instead. He’ll be better in the morning, you decide. Especially if you fry up some bacon.

A light rap of knuckles against mahogany distracts you from the latest show binge on your laptop. You pause the action. “Yeah?”

“Got a minute?” Even with the question, Dean’s tone sounds like a command.

You gulp. “Sure.” Rotating in the seat, your hand grips the top of the backrest. You’ll try to hold the line against the Dean Winchester Offensive.

The door swings slowly on its hinges. Dean slinks into your space. It’s the opposite of his usual bluster and humorous bellows that lead to inevitable laughter on your end. His slippers shuffle along the tile. He’s wearing roomy sweats and a dark t-shirt that hugs his torso. A folded towel is wedged into the crook of his arm. 

Your brain locks onto two things that appear off about Dean. The first thing totally out of place on the masterpiece before you is the baseball cap.

In the next second, you remember why he’s wearing it. It’s not because he’s undercover as a delivery driver or Fish and Wildlife Game Warden.

Dean does not want you to see his hair in its current state.

The second thing makes your pulse quicken. His beard is… gone. You can’t remember the last time you saw him even close to clean-shaven. You forgot what that sharp jawline used to do to your insides.

“Hey.” You don your best don’t-let-on-to-anything smile.

Dean scrutinizes you as if you are a witness in his rapid-fire way and then huffs. “Son of a bitch told you, didn’t he?”

You decide not to remind Dean he and Sam share the same mother. “He did. I’m sorry. You okay?”

The door clicks shut. “I’ll live. Sam might not see the light of day, though.”

You ignore the murder threat, instead focusing on a new scent in the air. You sniff, nostrils flaring with the deep inhale. Dean smells like he’s working on an amazing beach tan.

He nods at your reaction. “Coconut Oil. I had to use all that was in the kitchen for…” He circles his lower body with a finger and eventually points to the baseball cap.

“Did it do the trick?”

“Better than I hoped. I even got all that nasty shit out of my hair.” His weight shifts from one foot to the other. “But I need a favor.”

“At your disposal.” Still seated, you somersault your hand as if addressing royalty.

That at least cracks a tiny smile into his serious veneer. “I had to take a razor to my hair and cut it pretty short. Can you clean me up in the back?”

You clutch your chest and gasp in the most dramatic fashion you can muster. “You trust me to touch your hair?” 

“I trust you with my life, wiseass.” Dean smirks. “Can the sass and help a guy out, would ya?”

A warmth blossoms in your heart at Dean’s words. The heat spreads to your skin. You wave a hand at the towel and clear your throat. “Those the accouterments?”

Dean quirks a brow and grins. “Croutons?”

“And you call me the wiseass.” You sigh.

He shrugs with a nod in agreement. He drops the towel on the desk and lifts one of the corners to reveal the electric razor inside.

“Okay. Here’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” You rise from your seat, close the laptop, and move it to your dresser.

“You sure? We can go to the bathroom.” He thumbs at the door.

You wave a hand at the chair you vacated, now standing behind it. “Here’s good.”

Dean sits. The wooden chair creaks.

“Towel.”

Dean grabs the razor before passing the towel. You flap the fabric, channel your inner toreador, and let it billow over Dean’s frame like a sail. When it settles, you wrap and tuck it into the back of the collar.

Moments like this are pure indulgence. Getting within close proximity of Dean years ago left your brain unable to process the simplest tasks. Breathing. Blinking. Talking. Eventually, you got a handle on your senses. Now, you could treat yourself to the experience of him on occasion in a myriad of ways. No one had to be the wiser that the mundane helped create many fantasies.

“Razor.��

Dean chuckles, presenting you with the razor over his shoulder. “It’s not surgery.”

“Hey, appreciate the seriousness with which I’m embracing this endeavor.” You step to his left. “Dean?”

He lifts his head to peer up from under the brim of his cap. “Yeah?” His blinks emphasize the question.

All that does is force you to focus on his pretty lashes and the eye color he’s daring you to try and describe in your head. The cheekbones and the manicured five o’clock shadow aren’t helping matters either. You swallow and remember what’s supposed to happen next. “Can’t do much with that hat on your head.”

“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “Just, no laughing, alright?”

You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze softly in confirmation. “No laughing. Promise.”

Dean exhales. You suck in your lips and hold your breath. He closes his eyes and peels the cap off.

You stare dumbfounded.

“Say whatever you gotta say,” Dean mumbles with scrunched features and shut lids.

Your vision clouds. Heart races. “It’s…”

“Awful,” he interrupts.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Eyes open at the word. His gaze shoots up to meet yours. “Huh?”

Gone are the 90s dreamboat bangs he’s been growing out and tending to since 2020. In their place are a couple of directionless inches that need gel after the scrubbing, clipping, and hat matting. The Musca goo must have done most of its damage around the sides and back. In those areas, he’s shaved it short and close, done his best to fashion a fade that you imagine was muscle memory for him even after all these years. You eye the spot at the base of his skull that needs to be cleaned and tapered.  

You’re blinking, fighting back tears, utterly speechless.

Dean stares, total confusion lining his face. “Are you crying? Why the hell are you crying?” He taps the top of his head. “Shit… is it that fucking of a fiasco?”

“No.” You cover your mouth at the possibility a nervous laugh might spill out, which will only irritate him further. Moments pass as you struggle to steady your breath.

“Well, what the hell is it then?”

Dropping the hand covering your mouth, you beam down at him. “It’s you.” You could care less about what you were supposed to do with the razor in your hand. Instead, you perch your ass against the desk so you can lean back and take him in.

Dean’s eyes widen. You’ve seen that look of concern many times. “Yeeaaah. It’s me. Who else would it be? Do I need to get Sam?”

Your head shakes in amazement at the vision. “I haven’t seen this Dean since… damn, since before the pandemic. Since you and Sam made that bet, remember?”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Sam and I make lots of bets.”

“The one about you being unable to resist the temptation to take a razor to your hair during lockdown. I don’t even remember what the stakes were.”

Dean contemplates. “Hm. I haven’t got a clue. That was like, what, four years ago.” His lids shade the dark green of his irises. “This Dean?”

You nod. Your breath hitches at the swell of emotions rising. “The guy I first met.”

Dean shifts in the chair and leans forward. Every furrow and crinkle on his face melts away. His eyes appear to double in size as he waits for you to continue.

“My hero.” The whisper is a physical manifestation of how vulnerable and exposed you feel at Dean’s silent interrogation method. You press on. “The one that risked his life to save me… forever ago.”

He lifts one side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. “Sam was there, too, you know.”

You laugh. Cheeks warm at the adorably smug reaction. “Yes, you’re right. He was.”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam’s had the exact same haircut for years. I don’t see you crying every time you lay eyes on him. He’s a walking reminder of the guy you first met.”

“But he’s not you.” In your haste to provide an explanation, you realize you’ve said too much.

Dean’s mouth opens a fraction. His brows downturn. He’s working it out in his head in real-time.

You’re terrified.

A new smile forms. You think you spot a blush on his cheeks. “What else do you remember about this Dean?”

You shrug and tear your gaze from his. You don’t want your words to betray you again.

“Hm.” Dean rambles off a laundry list. “A lot of brooding back then, wasn’t there? I was a really good brooder. Hard to figure out? Distant, too, right? Definitely knew what was best for everybody. Stubborn jackass.”

You remain silent.

“Okay, still a stubborn jackass.”

You giggle. He joins in with a chuckle. Your anxiety eases and you find courage to look at him again.

“We’ve all changed in different ways, I guess. You, for example.” Dean gestures in your direction.

You stiffen. This could go many ways. You aren’t ready for any of them.

“You don’t take any of my shit, for one.” He raises a finger. “You're confident. You speak your mind. You have a life outside of these bunker walls.” Four fingers are on display for a while. He smiles and elongates his thumb. “But you still make this your home.”

“Every second of the life I’m able to live is because of you guys. I owe you everything. I’m lucky you let me make this my home.” You reason.

Dean’s smile drops. The open palm clenches into a fist and rests on his thigh. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“You and Sam did all that for me without batting an eye. You didn’t expect anything in return. You and Sam gave me so much more than I could ever repay. You gave me a second chance. You gave me a home.” You shrug and smile. “You became my home.”

He studies the floor and smirks, stating more to himself, “Not the only long-standing bet I’ve lost to Sam today.” Dean inhales and sits tall, focusing back on you. He nods, slow and calculated. “So, perfect, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get a big head.”

“A little late for that.” He grins and reclines back. “Would you go so far as to say this Dean” – he sweeps his hands in front of his figure in a dramatic gesture – “is irresistible?”

You exhale. “I don’t know if I’d say irresistible.”

He licks his lips. “Whew. Well, that’s good. I mean, otherwise, you’d have the same problem I have.”

You drop the razor on the desk and cross your hands over your chest. “What problem would that be?”

A heated gaze, beginning at your socked feet, rakes over you with his answer. “How much I find every fucking thing about you irresistible. You could shave your head and wear a potato sack, and I’d still have to keep my feelings in check.” You're practically on fire by the time his eyes lock with yours. “Every goddamn second of every day I’m around you.”

“This would be one of those times I don’t take any of your shit,” you scoff and squint back.

It’s his turn to clutch his hand to his chest. “You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re having a little too much fun at the expense of my soul-baring.”

“Wanna bet?” 

Dean’s voiced that question countless times. Tonight, though, certainty laces his words.

He seems to take your silence as the only needed response. “Kiss me.”

“Wh-hat?”

“If you think you can resist, kiss me, and it’s a one-and-done.” His brows lift. “But if you can’t… Well, I might not leave this room anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wager. More like a dare.” You straighten your stance. “Besides, you’re assuming…”

He grumbles out an interruption, “Sounds like somebody’s stalling.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Maybe we both take the armor off for a night. Take a chance on something that could be awesome.” Dean posits. His hands rub the cloth atop his thighs. “I can make it awesome.” The tone is low and promising. “If it helps, I’m this Dean tonight. We can worry about that Dean tomorrow.” He smiles, reaches a hand out to you, and nods in encouragement.

He’s struggling to play it cool, keep his emotions in check. You’ve seen this Dean before. He’s inhaling and exhaling fast through his nose. His jaw clenches and it cracks your resolve even further.

You drop your shield and let this Dean win you over. 

You melt, wrapping your fingers over his. This Dean’s touch electrifies every cell and awakens every dormant hope you had put to rest. He tugs you into his space. His lead forces the parting of your legs in order for his thigh to slot between. You hover. Your chin drops to your chest while his chin tips up high to hold your gaze. His body heat pulses off him like a vibrational energy. “Kiss me.” It’s the sweetest and softest request you’ve ever heard this Dean utter.

Your fingers trace along the freshly shaved hair over his right ear. It’s slippery and smooth in one direction, scritch-scratchy in the other. You can study every battle scar on this handsome canvas. No bangs of curtains or overgrown beard can hide them from you now. 

His lips part and release a deep sigh. Your fingers slip down his neck. Warm hands rest on the curve of your hips.

“I won’t be able to resist you,” you whisper.

“Good,” he hums. He’s guiding you with a firm grip to straddle his thigh. Then, there’s an encouraging push with a large palm and splayed fingers against the middle of your back. The sweet smell of coconut hits. Your gaze zones onto that bowed top lip. The way the plump bottom one parts from it to grant entrance.

Dean huffs an impatient groan you are all too familiar with. “You don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” you tease.

“More like a warning.” His voice is gruff and deep.

You hold back a moan at the sound, then dip down and do as you’re told.

Everything about the kiss is eager and rushed. Together you’re a tangle of limbs and fever pitch need. You’re pressed tight and right to his body - all muscle-tense and trigger-ready. His lips respond in kind to your every brush, swipe, and nudge for more and more.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he murmurs through the kiss.

You gasp in satisfaction at the intention. 

His lips skim to your jaw, under your ear, then down your neck. “I gotta know that’s what you want.”

“Yes, Dean.”

Another hum thrums against your skin. You shiver as fingers creep under the hem of your t-shirt. His nose nuzzles along the frayed v-neck collar. He cups your breasts under the fabric. A thumb and finger twists one of your nipples even more erect. Teeth scraping and tongue lapping over the other fabric-covered nipple draw a strained moan out of your throat.

Soon the shirt is tugged hastily over your head for removal. Then you feel his mouth and hands all over your breasts again, unencumbered.

You’re a panting, heaving mess riding his thigh like you’re on an X-rated carousel. You arch your chest into his face. He’s slurping and sucking your nerve endings into the stratosphere. He pops a tit out of his mouth long enough to order, “Yeah, come for me so I can fuck that nice wet pussy.”

Dean staring at you, commanding you to come for him, is the tipping point you need to orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth to yours. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.” He steals every gasp of air you expel with his inhales.

You’re tingling all over. He peels you off his thigh to sandwich his standing body to yours. He towers over you. He’s stiff and erect in his sweats, pressed into your lower tummy. His hands sweep up and down the channel of your spine.

“This Dean’s got a lot to make up for.” His tongue licks at your lips. “But I gotta be inside you right now.”

You nod. “You got five seconds to get me naked and on that bed.”

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester is not up for a challenge.

The chair behind him is now careening towards the bedroom door on all four legs. You scream-giggle as he lifts you into the air while he twirls, then tosses you onto the mattress, bouncing at the impact.

The sound of the chair crashing and toppling into a corner does nothing to distract you from watching Dean tunnel out of his t-shirt, kick off his slippers, and hopscotch out of his pants and boxers. His hard, thick cock springs to attention.

Fuck. You want every inch of that deep inside you.

He hooks his fingers onto the hem of your pants and manages to pull your socks off along with them. Kneeing onto the bed, he croons, “Been wanting you for so long, baby.”

Your head falls back into the cushion of the mattress, woozy from Dean’s actions and confession. “Probably been wanting you longer.”

Your panties are off and tossed over his shoulder next. “You don’t gotta wait anymore.” He grips under your knees and drags you to him. He slides over the wet heat of your folds and hisses, “Wanna fuck you without a condom.”

You whimper, “Just fuck me already.”

He smiles, grabs his cock – that must be fitted with a pussy homing device – and pistons into your entrance without any further mother fucking ado.

You gasp at the searing heat and sharp pain of him stretching you open. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s minding how your facial features accept the brunt of each thrust and the agonizing slow release of his cock. Over and over. His descent is just as slow as he fucks. But eventually, your legs clamp around his waist and he wraps you in an embrace. Chests plastered together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Your fingers inch into what remains of his bangs. You pull at the hair and Dean groans out, “Yeah.”

It’s lovely and languid for however long you both have the patience. The feel of him everywhere and inside is something you don’t ever want to end. But there’s a second orgasm building. The thought of Dean spilling into you has your walls clench in impatience around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, face tucked along your neck. You lift your head up to enjoy the view of his undulating back and curvy ass clenching and raising as his fucking gains momentum. You pull at his hair again. “Fuuuck.”

He stills, turns to stone, and you feel his cock pulse and warmth spill inside. Moments later, a hand wedges between your bodies to thumb your clit and trigger your second orgasm.

You cry out his name.

“I got you, baby,” Dean whispers into your ear. And he does. Not letting go and practically swaddling you with his body. The sexiest weighted blanket on the planet.

You smile and stroke – instead of pulling – at his hair. “Who’s got me exactly? This Dean or That Dean?”

He sighs, sounding winded. “You get all the versions. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He leans back to stare at you. “Yeah?” He’s red and flushed and the happiest you’ve ever seen him. “Even if I grow my hair out again?”

You nod. “Yeah. More for me to pull.”

Dean groans and flops to his back beside you, chuckling.

You listen to the rhythm of your collective breathing slow down and regulate. His fingers brush along the flesh of your thigh. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said something about losing two bets to Sam today. What was the other one?”

“Asshole told me you had a thing for me years ago. Let’s hold off on telling him he was right, or I’m doing his laundry for an entire year.”

“I don’t think we have to tell him anything, Dean. I’m pretty sure he heard everything.”

“Hm. You’re right.” He’s up on an elbow, staring down at you. “Maybe text him that code thing? That might get him out of the bunker for a while.”

You blink. “Code?”

“Don’t play coy now.” Dean shakes his head. “But what’s the ‘66’ mean?”

You bite your lip.

He waits.

“It was Sam’s idea.”

He waits.

“The 66 Seals.” 

Dean cringes.

You shrug. “Too soon?”

“And he says I have a twisted sense of humor.” Dean yawns. He finds the edge of the comforter you both are lying atop and tosses it over your naked bodies. “So, will you still clean me up in the back? Maybe wait until morning, though?”

“Absolutely.” You snuggle into his chest, secure that Dean will wake up next to you in the morning. “If you don’t look good, we don’t look good.”

It takes a beat before Dean responds with a teasing smack to the back of your head, followed by a kiss on your forehead. “Wiseass.”

[vanillascentedsyrup]

standards and qualities i look for in a man

RED : most important

PINK : important, just not on the MOST important list

(examples in green)

1. loves me, isn’t afraid to show it

- doesn’t say “i’m too scared to take you out with me because of x reason!” be a man pls.

2. attractiveness

- i 110% have to be attracted to you to want a relationship with you. period.

3. communication

- if something bothers you. tell me. if something from you is bothering me, i tell you. done. easy.

4. good intentions

- doesn’t want to but anything from me, doesn’t wanna see my body immediately after 3 conversations. doesn’t beg to go out with me for sexual favors. wants just as a serious relationship as i do.

5. understands me

- sees things from my perspective when opening up. i grew up with horrible men. i want a good guy.

6. wants to genuinely be with me & not just a fling or something

- same as example 4

7. provider. offers to buy me things, buys me things without asking.

- “do you want me to get you that?” “i got you this” simple. easy. makes me happy.

8. makes me feel special, gives me attention when i ask for it. (makes a relationship stable)

- *sends x photo of myself.* *he replies with what he thinks of me.*

9. doesn’t take my attitude too seriously

- sometimes i have an attitude just to troll. but also don’t get mad and try to teach me a lesson because i talked back. you’re not my mother. just hug me.

10. when i’m mad at him, he takes accountability & responsibility.

- doesn’t blame me every time. example, he purposely made me feel bad about myself. he apologizes, means it and we talk about it.

11. doesn’t play games. straight forward.

- doesn’t say he wants me one day and says he doesn’t the next. sticks to what he’s said before.

12. takes me on dates and doesn’t make an excuse about it.

-for example, “i didn’t take you on any dates because you never asked me to go anywhere” be fr. you should ask first. i’m not the man.

13. teaches me things without making me feel stupid or uncomfortable.

- i don’t know how to cook. if he wants me to be a stay at home wife, he could send me recipes for me to practice while he’s off at work. if it’s nasty, he tells me but doesn’t make me feel bad about it.

14. AND DOESNT MAKE EVERYTHING SEXUAL/DOESNT BRING SEXUAL THINGS INTO EVERY SINGLE CONVERSATION. MOST MOST MOST IMPORTANT

- says what was need to be said. no further explanations needed.

all this stuff is not in order, also, if you don’t apply to this stuff, go away. like, i’m being serious.

socials in pinned:)

[writingsofwesteros]

Imagine instead of marrying Alicent, Viserys decides to marry Rhaenyra with Gwayne. Otto reluctantly agrees, hoping Gwayne could get control of Rhaenyra and when Viserys should die, his grandson could take the throne. However, what otto didn’t take into mind was how easy his son had been dominated by the dragon princess. Since Rhaenyra held some love for Alicent, she found it easy to fall for Gwayne, she just had to get used to his dramatics. And she somehow managed to get rid of Otto, without the whorehouse scandal, with Otto gone, she saw how much more relaxed Gwayne and Alicent became.

Also, during Gwayne and Rhaenyra’s wedding, instead of Daemon asking out Laena to dance, he asked Alicent. He didn’t necessarily dislike Alicent, he just really hated Otto and Gwayne was just a pain to him hut he really liked the innocence and pious attitude the Hightower girl displayed. So seeing his niece enjoying herself with Gwayne, he thought perhaps he could also give Alicent a chance. After he’d marry the young girl, he would step away from kingslanding for a while and he saw how much more happier the girl looked being away from overbearing fathers and politics

Just imagine:

Red-head Jace

Jace and Helaena bethrotal would actually happen!!!

All the green children receive fatherly love!

Aegon wouldn’t be such a broken/nasty person since his father saw how his son was experiencing a similar fate as he did years ago and he doesn’t want his son to suffer through that.

Daemon would comfort Aemond for not having a dragon and take him out on rides with caraxes, sometimes without Alicent’s knowledge they would go look for wild dragons to see if he son could claim one.

As for sweet Helaena, Daemon knew his little girl was a dreamer and he couldn’t be more proud of his seed bearing such a special gift.

Daemon would also refuse Otto’s wishes to send Daeron to Oldtown, he doesn’t want his little boy separated from his family.

The husbands find out their wives use to hold some affections for each other when they were younger, perhaps they could put their old rivarly aside and maybe even get to know each other better;)

Alicent agreeing to ride with Syrax and Rhaenyra<3

ALL OF THIS

Its warmed my heart from the stupid show :(

What do we think of a name for it?

Rhaenyra dominating Gwayne is too damn hot..they are both so bratty but she can dom him well...especially older Rhaenyra !

Daemon will take Alicent away and their little family can grow up nicely.

Red head Jace !! Oh he would be the cutest!! Sweet boy following his parents around with Gwayne placing him on his shoulders.

Aegon would be the most jolly babe which follows him into adulthood..he's so pathetic still but the sweetest .

Oh the father and son having secret rides on dragons. He clutches at his father as the both search for dragons.

Helaena being so soft and sweet but being able to communicate more as well as Alicent understanding her touch aversion.

Daeron will always stay with his family, such a mamas boy with his lady blue dragon