#if this really is the same person. GET A LIFE !!! my god
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synopsis: y/n is an up and coming influencer, who has established her own with thriving youtube channel and podcast. when she releases a new episode with her new co-host and special guests, things get messy.
a rafe cameron smau! |part eight| part nine |part ten|
a/n: This is a long one for you guys :) thank you to @ivysprophecy @kimoralov3 for letting me annoy the shit out of you as i bounce ideas off of y'all.
Off Topic Official Transcript
12:30Â
Cleo: so Rafe, you did a recent shoot with loewe.Â
Y/n: [you bite your lip subtly] oh my god yeah, i remember hearing Sarah talk about it. you looked really good.Â
Rafe: oh yeah? [he raises his eyebrow] thank you. it was really fun, the crew and photographer were great. iâve always wanted to do a shoot with them and i was so grateful when i got the chance.Â
Rafe: i know itâs yallsâ podcast but if you could work with any brand, which would it be?Â
Cleo: easy, easy man. either gucci or miu miu.Â
Y/n: i think for me it would probably be ysl or prada.Â
Rafe: yeah, youâd be a prada girl? [he asks cockily]
Y/n: yeah, havenât you seen me rock a pair of prada sunnies. i always serve face. [you smile and then give a model face to him and cleo]Â
Cleo: that is correct. my girl always looks good, especially in prada.Â
Rafe: oh, i have no doubt. [he smiles at you brightly]
26:45
Y/n: [laughing at something Rafe said before hand]
Cleo:[smirks] so rafe, we have this recurring segment of this show called âbe mineâ and itâs where we ask the guest, whatâs their ideal type or what they are looking for in a relationship.
Y/n: [stops laughing and is subtly looking at Cleo with bewilderment]Â
Cleo: and since we donât have more than one guest today, y/n will share with you!Â
Y/n: [looks at Cleo with a look of confusion] i will?Â
Cleo:[gives her look]Â
Y/n: i guess i will be today.Â
Rafe: [chuckles at your reaction] i have only been in two really serious relationships and they were both totally different experiences. the first person i'm really good friends with still but that relationship taught me all the things i did want like someone adventurous, kind, and someone who can communicate. in this life we live in the media. i never wanna be the last person to know something about my partner. i think from my last relationship we were very private and i didnât really mind it but sometimes i wanted to share cute photos of them⌠[he shifts in the chair and manspreads a bit]
Cleo: [she looks at you and gives you a smirk at the mention at photography]
Rafe (continued): especially since i really like film photography and really i couldnât share my photos, so i wanna find someone who's comfortable with that for sure. and by no means do i think i am perfect, i think i got somethings to work on but those are just somethings that are really important to me. [he finishes speaking and looks at you for your reaction.]
Cleo: [is smirking in her seat] damn model boy knows what he wants.Â
Rafe: [laughs] sometimes if you want something you just gotta put it out there. [he shrugs and smirks]
Cleo: ya know y/n here loves film photography? has a whole account dedicated to it too.
Y/n: [your eyes blunge out hoping sheâd be quiet] yeah, i do but itâs nothing.Â
Rafe: [smirks and leans forward and places his elbow on the chair arm and places his chin on his knuckles] itâs not, nothing. itâs cute, sweetheart. [he gives you a kind smile] so, what are you looking for? [he points with his chin to you]
Y/n: um⌠i agree with a lot of what race has to say. i especially feel the same about communication, in my last relationship there was a really big lack of it and that along with cheating was the end of our relationship.Â
Rafe: [frowns at the mention that you have been cheated on]
Y/n: So now i think i need someone who is willing to take things slowly and understand that it takes me a second to trust their intentions. but i also really want someone who likes to travel because i love traveling and seeing new places. also my friends have to give the stamp of approval because they are everything to me. [you smile at cleo]
Y/n: but my ideal type, i donât know, tall, kind, intelligent, passionate, empathetic, and i donât think it would hurt anyone if he was pretty on the eyes either.[you smile widely]Â
Rafe: i think it's really raw and real of you to talk about trust in that way because i feel the same way.Â
Cleo: you two have a lot in common huh?Â
y/n's phone
taglist: @ivysprophecy @kimoralov3 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @charli123456789 @wearemadeofstardust0 @frankoceanluvr11 1 @harrys-housewife @urbrunettebombshell @mayhapsnini i @psychicnatural @aariahnaa @rafeycameronsgf @laniirackssss @cl4uus @honk4emoboyz
#lex creates <3#lex writes <3#divider was made by strangergraphics-archive#outerbanks au#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe Cameron smau#rafe cameron au#social media au#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe x you#rafe imagine#rafe cameron social media au#obx au#obx smau#rafer cameron smau#outerbanks#outerbranks smau#outer banks fic#outer banks fanfiction#smau#rafe smau
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;-; i just wanted to say ty for all your posts in the fof tag. now i'm thinking about ying lei and his yeye ying zhao... and now there is no one left to guard the mountain, but ying lei died in the same way as ying zhao, saving people he cares about
Donât mention it! I blorb too much about things I really like it embarrasses me at times. Iâm just glad you like my takes!! Anyway:
đđđđ this drama exists to hurt us,, I think more than dying for people he cares about (because nearly everyone who died did that), Ying Lei's characterisation and death provides a unique but tragic pov within the main cast
Ying Lei my poor Ying Lei. We donât really talk too much about him donât we. So letâs just talk all about him. CHARACTER ANALYSIS TIME YAY
Ying Lei is unadulterated sunshine and has a good heart. Morally, he is on the same page as the rest of the team. Yet, it absolutely breaks my heart that his fate is to be an outsider within the thematic concern of choice in FoF and resultingly, in the narrative.
His place in the overarching thematic concerns of FoF is unclear when we first meet him - he is simply a wandering half mountain god half demon with a bright disposition. But as with many characters in FoF, their appearances aren't just for naught. Ying Lei's representative theme - the freedom of choice and the ability to choose one's identity - finally shows itself in one of the most beautifully written (am biased) episodes of the series, Episode 17, which is all about choice.
In this episode, Ying Lei vents his displeasure of the Wilderness towards grandpa Ying Zhao
"I hate this place. I hate the Wilderness. It's so bleak and desolate. (âŚ) If I have to stay here forever, I'd rather die. (âŚ) I like the mortal world. I like everything that is vibrant and lively."
To which grandpa Ying Zhao gives him his blessing to head to the Mortal Realm,
"âŚas your grandfather, I respect your decision. You can be a Mountain God or an ordinary person."
His next sentence cements the plight of many demons (and humans) we encounter in the story,
"For many demons in the Wilderness, their lifelong dream is just three simple words⌠Have a choice."
These three words all the more juxtaposes Ying Lei's freedom to choose his identity, against every other character who faces this fate of not having a choice.
The Lie Demon, unable to say her true feelings until her moment of death, and Fei, who shares similar sentiments as Ying Lei about the mortal world,
"I'm a beast of calamity, I don't deserve to live in the mortal world. But I really like the bright lights, the liveliness and happiness, and the prosperity here." (Ep 13)
And Zhao Yuanzhou, where even in the same Episode 17, echoes Ying Lei's words,
"If this world gave me life to be manipulated by malicious energy, then I'd rather die."
Same words, but a different way out. Or there isn't one at all.
Ying Lei is the only one whose fate hasn't been carved out in stone for him. Even after Ying Zhao's death, he is still able to leave Kunlun Mountain and rejoin the team because he has the support of other Mountain Gods watching over the temple. He is by no means a pampered and spoiled person but he swims in a wealth of freedom. His bubbly, charming and affectionate personality is a physical manifestation of his unburdened self, unbeholden to any ending, except for the one that he wants.
And yet, he chooses a life with the group of people who never have had the option to choose what and who they want to be. Wen Xiao, the Baize Goddess; Zhao Yuanzhao, the vessel of malicious energy; Bai Jiu, determined to bring his mother back; Pei Sijing, the forced breadwinner of her family's martial heritage. To show his determination to be with this group, he never again dons the mature get-up (full sleeved robes and long hair) - his representation of maturing and accepting his responsibility as a Mountain God - after returning back to the Mortal Realm. Rather, he dons the get-up he first roamed the Mortal Realm with (or similar), metaphorically putting aside all that celestial burden in exchange for the friends that he desires. Just who in the group can as easily shed their very roots and history? His precious freedom to choose ironically makes him the outsider in a group whose only wishes are to be able to choose.
He gets along with the team, but no matter how many times he ties the knot of fate around them, these people were never his fate to begin with. Fate found the rest of them and demanded they be bound. Ying Lei wrestles that rope of fate, trying to get in, albeit with rejection. The narrative demonstrates this:
The team was initially formed without him, and he joined later them of his own accord - his own choice - while the others literally were forced to sign a death contract to be together. In the later episodes, his affection for Bai Jiu is often overshadowed by Bai Jiu's respect for Zhuo Yichen. He also continually tries to get both Bai Jiu and Zhuo Yichen's approval - head pats, anyone? Zhao Yuanzhou doesn't trust him to look after the dragon scale. In their conversation with Bing Yi, their team count is five, instead of six. His closest companions within the team are each other's confidants.
Even at his very end, the narrative still denies him a fate with them. He dies for Bai Jiu who is the only person he loves wholly, and fades away before Bai Jiu wakes from his coma. Neither gets to say goodbye. Bai Jiu who genuinely mourns his death, dies for Yichen. In a story where the cyclical nature of fate runs deep, there is no thread of fate that leads back to him. There is no resolution or reciprocation for Ying Lei's soul and sacrifice. Every thread is cut and never retied, no matter how he tries. Siheng has Sijing left to remember him. Yichen keeps Baijiu close to his heart. Wen Xiao and Yichen wait for Zhao Yuanzhou to return. But no one truly reminisces Ying Lei. The only people to do that are dead.
Ying Lei's tragedy lies in his freedom to choose. In a world where most fate is predetermined and choice is a scarcity, his death is all the more painful as every act is a conscious choice toward an unknown end. He carries a burden after all - the burden of writing his own story. And he braved each step with that brilliant smile of his.
ćçąčżä¸Şä¸çć´ĺ¤ ĺĺŚä˝ So what if I love this world even more? čśĺšłĺĄčśéżäš
The more ordinary it is, the longer it lasts ć于čˇçćçšĺ¤´ The moon nods along with me çŽçŽĺĺĺ
Ľć˘Śçäşşć渊ć Those who step into dreams simply are the gentlest ĺä¸ć¸
çźćłŞĺé
ç莊人ć 头 This inability to distinguish between tears and wine, really makes one scratch their head ć于ĺĺ°çéťéťčˇćčľ° The moon and a puppy walk with me in silence ĺ˛ćäťä¸ĺç Time never stops once ĺ°ĺš´äšä¸ĺ头 This youth also never turns back äťćć
䚥ĺçąçĺ¨čşŤĺ He leaves behind both his hometown and love
- čąéä¸çŁč˝ (Heroes Are Not Upright) | Ying Lei's Theme
#reminds me of that night I cried buckets at ep30#I was downright sobbing#BOY IS ONLY 18#he deserves better#ah pain#also ive been writing this for 3 hours#pls send in more asks about fof characters id love to be a nerd#fangs of fortune#大梌ĺ˝çŚť
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slightly off-topic of this blog but i saw the weight kink anon and it reminded me of this video essay i watched about a person i know nothing about, except the video went into feederism in a really wild /neg way. like, i was really confused at first because they were using the term feeder as though it were synonymous with abuser, but like. iâve come across a slight bit of feeding kink in my time and though im not invested in the community by any means, that seems like a bit of a jump. going through the video they kept equating feederism to abuser and it turns out they were using the term to reference specifically feeders that kill people. this isnât hyperbole they were using the term feeder to talk about the people that get off to actually killing their partner through weight gain in real life. iâm not exactly an expert, but that feels out of line. youâre telling me the guy who likes fat women and enjoys feeding fat women is the same as the guy who has in real life killed his wife through a severely unhealthy diet? they acknowledged that feederism is an entire thing with varying levels and shit like any other kink and yet they kept describing feederism as specifically the ones that kill people. surely thatâs not the majority of the community. can we not equate people with a kink to literal murderers. it didnât help that i was sick when i watched it and it felt like i was having an honest to god fever dream it was that out of left field
sorry if this is an odd ask i just got very angry remembering that.
people are so fucking weird about weight gain kinks and it's frustrating because they usually dress it up in progressive language like "fetishization" and then sometimes they just go straight off the deep end into this bullshit
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alabastercloud:
cephiedvariable:
coelasquid:
rosalarian:
dresdencodak:
Seeing as how Iâve done both the top ten for best and worst superhero costume redesigns, I feel obligated to put my money where my artistic mouth is and take a stab at fixing or updating some of these costumes. Â Iâve picked five here based on:Â
Itâs a particularly awful outfit that doesnât fit the character, or
Itâs a solid character who just needs some updating or tweaking
Iâll list these in order of âreboot depth:â
5. Starfire
Whatâs wrong: In the wake of DCâs ânew 52â this felt like a no-brainer. Â Starfire is a decent character whoâs always, in my opinion, gotten the short end of the costume stick. Â I get that sheâs supposed to be sexually liberated and somewhat polyamorous, and thatâs fine, but dressing like a John Carterâs Princess of Mars-themed stripper doesnât cut it. Â Really, up until the Teen Titans cartoon sheâs always been in the most awkward and impractical getups for someone fighting crime.
The Fix:Â I went for the simple route and took some notes from the cartoon (notably the skirt). I wanted to make sure it kept the bubbly, innocent feeling of the character while also hinting at some power (with the exposed arms here). Â The overall effect is meant to convey someone whoâs tough, cheerful and comfortable flying around in the air.
4. Dr. Strange
Whatâs wrong: I love Dr. Strange, but heâs always had the worst outfits. Â For a guy who basically hangs out in his house in the West Village, he seems to always wear the most ostentatious getups. Â Heâs not an alien from another planet or from some culture that would dress that way, heâs a grown man who became a wizard well into adulthood. Â Nothing wrong with having some style while youâre maintaining the balance of the mystic planes.
The Fix: Two parts Vincent Price, one part Christopher Lee and one part Dr. Orpheus, this Dr. Strange is still magical, but with a more coherent design direction.
3. Ms. Marvel
Whatâs Wrong: Simply put, I think itâs embarrassing for Marvel to showcase a prominent character like Ms. Marvel and have her wearing that outfit. Â Itâs just so tacky, and tells us nothing about the character. Â Basically they just changed the colors of Jean Greyâs Phoenix costume and exposed more skin. Â Come on, guys.
The Fix: Since her origins are ostensibly tied with Captain Marvel, I decided to go a route thatâs more along the lines of the Ultimate Marvel version of that character, where her abilities come from alien technology rather than vague space magic.  The notion that sheâs, for example, permanently bound with this technology that she doesnât fully understand can make for some interesting stories.  There can be some potential with this character again with just a little bit of tweaking.
2. Wonder Woman
Whatâs Wrong: Wonder Woman, in my opinion, is a character thatâs always been on the cusp of being really neat but never quite making it like Superman or Batman. Â Although a feminist pop icon, her origins are too tied up with creator WIlliam Marstonâs obsession with bondage. Â Because of this (and an all-too-frequent parade of poor or sexist writing), sheâs never had a solid, progressive design. Â The 21st century can update this character.
The Fix: One part Thor, three parts Xena. Iâd push the mythological angle further.  Just as nobody thinks of Thor as âSuperman with a hammerâ I donât want Wonder Woman to be âgirl Superman,â as sheâs sometimes seen.  Iâve also tweaked her origin slightly, making her a more literal âstatue come to life.â This isnât as extreme as it seems: in regular canon, Wonder Womanâs origin was that she was formed out of clay by the queen of the Amazons, and imbued with the powers of the Greek Gods.  This, I think offers more story possibilities if sheâs less literally human, physically.  Her personality would remain the same (nothing more fun than the perspective of an Amazon in the modern world), but we now have an added Pinnochio-style layer.
The costume change is mostly conservative. Â Because of the strong fetish associations (and overall impracticality for a fighting Amazon), Iâve removed the lasso in favor of more traditional Greek weapons. Â The overall effect is intended to push Wonder Womanâs core themes further while making her also stand out as more than just âthe female superhero.â
1. Superman
Whatâs Wrong: Since his creation, Supermanâs drifted from being a progressive champion for the common man to a patriotic middle-America boyscout who represents the establishment and traditional values. When he was developed in the 30s, Superman was very much a Depression-era hero, mostly going after villains like crooked money lenders and saving people who were being abused by the system. Â His superpowers came from the fact that he was from a more advanced society, and his morals too were because he was simply a brainier, more sophisticated guy. Â During and following WW2 and into the Cold War, though, he became an official symbol for American values in particular (it was originally âTruth and Justice,â without âthe American Wayâ). Â He was now not just an alien, but an alien raised by simple Kansas farmers and his abilities had a more generic âsuperpowerâ explanation. Â This is all fine, really, but I think the original concept is more compelling these days.
The Fix:Â âSuperman: the Man of Tomorrow, Strange Visitor from Another World.â I really want to push that. Â First off, Kryptonians should actually look like aliens and not white people. Here I have Kal-El from a race of beings who are essentially post-human (in that theyâve long since merged with technology). Â Theyâre strange to our mortal eyes but mean well. Â Iâd keep the âdestroyed planetâ origin but more heavily emphasize the ânon-interferenceâ part of Supermanâs mission statement. Â
If youâll remember from the 70s movie, his father Jor-El told him he was forbidden to interfere with the course of human history, but when you think about it, thatâs kind of vague. Â What Iâve done is added a Star Trek or Uatu the Watcher kind of prime directive to all advanced species: Â Kal-El canât let people know that heâs an alien, nor can he openly interact with them using advanced technology. Â Still, heâs a compassionate guy and wants to help, so he takes the form of âSupermanâ to inspire the mortals in a constructive way. Â Also, the notion that he can take on different forms means that the Clark Kent secret identity need not be as bad as it currently is.
The costume redesign holds to the basic themes but makes it a little more working class. Â The buttons at the top are meant to invoke overalls, and the sleeves are cut a little higher for someone working with their hands. Â Iâve removed the spandex and gone with looser fitting slacks, while keeping a short cape and boots, since heâs still an adventurer.
Overall I want to evoke a classic Superman feel while making it a little more modern in its exploration of the sci fi themes. Â Heâs still basically the same guy: Â an alien from another world looking to fight injustice, but without the overt patriotism and a quirkier execution of the secret identity.
*********************
So there you have it. Â Iâve hope youâve enjoyed my superhero costume trilogy!
Part 1: The Best Superhero/Villain Redesigns
Part 2: The Worst Superhero/Villain Redesigns
That Superman is⌠probably the best redo of Superman I have ever seen, both in looks and backstory. Bravo!
cool stuffff
The Starfire is a no brainer, the Dr. Strange is my new unrequited fictional crush, the Wonder Woman is breath-taking and that take on Superman is one thousand degrees of shit I didnât know I wanted but I would be so comfortable if they uprooted over 70 years of comic book history to change him into this.
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PAC WHAT TYPE OF LOVE IS ENTERING YOUR LIFE?
Hey my baby babes! Here is the reading I promised you guys!!! This reading been on my mind since I did the last one honestly and Iâm guessing some of you are curious but instead of asking spirit of love is coming into your life Iâm going to ask what kind of love because love comes in our life everyday in big and small ways so I decided to ask in what way love is entering your lives soon.
đ§đ§ââď¸đ§đ§ââď¸đ§đ§ââď¸đ§đ§ââď¸đ§ââď¸đ§ââď¸đ§ââď¸
Pile 1
Now I know a lot of you are thinking the worse when you see this card but Iâm not getting anything negative or low energetic about this love coming in. Actually quite the opposite, I heard liberating. Thereâs something here that you and this person share in common thatâs coming in, honestly the kind of love Iâm hearing is through a trauma bond maybe? Iâm seeing two people praising one god or goddess. Iâm seeing that it may be a friendship here. It can be a same sex love too if thatâs what youâre into, I see carnal pleasure being fulfilled here, friends with benefits for sure!!! Iâm not getting romantic vibes honestly from this, Iâm seeing this love is a love that helps you break the chain that you are currently in, you can be in a cycle that youâre completely unaware of. This person can be a Capricorn, be Capricornic, they are not a satanist or satanic and even if theyâre into that theyâre not into bringing you into it Iâm hearing sacred so what they believe in is very sacred they very RARELY SHARE THAT! This is why again I donât feel itâs a romantic love it can even be a new belief thatâs coming and not a person if you get my drift or some kind of inspiration, love comes in very many a way so we need to look for something deeper sometimes and this isnât a romantic love, Iâm seeing it can be sexual or passionate though here, exploring each others carnal fantasies! so fuccin funny the bottom of the decc is the 8oS! so even more confirmation! Youâre gaining freedom from whatever chain youâve got going on in your head! Youre binded to a thought about yourself some kind of belief and I see it coming undone and since thereâs two people I do believe someone else is involved but again idk if itâs romantic im still not seeing it go anywhere more than some wild nights together frfr but i see youâll be so beyond happy you met this person itâs like a pent up farmer girl who becomes friends with the free spirited city girl roommate showing her how to let loose vibes. Thatâs very much the energy im getting from this pile, you may be meeting your bestie here guys!!!
Thanks for Reading.
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Pile 2
So the kind of love I see coming into your life isnât romantically at all, welp, you or this person may see it that way, Iâm seeing some kind of delusionary connection thatâs coming into your life, itâs almost like itâs too good to be true, this person and itâs not that theyâre not good itâs just like, they arenât really into love or Iâm seeing theyâre not into you like that but you want them too be or you feel they might be or it can be that they feel this way about you and you donât about them. Thereâs some kind of imbalance here between you and this person it can also be a disconnect from your heart and this love thatâs coming in will help you reconnect with the badass mf that is you. Iâm seeing that one of you could be hurt by love and emotions, hiding your cup and forcing it away, but this love will help you want to offer your cup but I donât see it happening early on, I see this is a slow to romance connection if thereâs any chance or possibility! If not then itâs a crush frfr thatâs going to go south and youâll realize this person HAS NOOOOOOOO feelings for you at all and that shit may destroy you, Iâm sorry but itâs reality I feel like this connection is so delusionary that you can get lost in the wishful thinking, maybe they drop hints of affection or your misreading them. At the bottom of the deck you have the 2oP! so Iâm seeing that there may be TWO types of love coming in, or a decision has to be made, maybe you wanted to date two people at the same time and itâs just not happening right for you, also Iâm hearing your crush could be denying you but then someone else likes you, that youâre not even noticing itâs giving 5oC energy youâre only looking at what spilled and not even paying attention to whatâs new and being offered. You will need to decide who youâre going to give your cup too because one of the choices are definite more romantic, balanced and will work out for you more than the other one. The choice is yours. Also Iâm seeing some money coming in so you can chill, I feel like you are someone who never stops to take a break or breathe or nothing and this connection or this love thatâs coming in whether it be a person promotion or both is some kind of disappointment, itâs going to help bring balance and control back into your life and it feels like youâve been falling of your rotational strength as of late donât worry baby youâll get it bacc I promise. Donât lose hope Iâm hearing. Iâm hearing that if it is a person thatâs not for you donât think less of you someone else is coming or is already there and youâre jus not giving them the time of day or you donât think they want you either! I want more information about this one I will upload a deeper meaning to the reading on my Patreon.
Thanks for reading.
âď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽâď¸âđĽ
Pile 3
Now this kind of love is straight up TOXIC! I see that this is not romantic it all it just involves a woman or someone who identifies themselves with more feminine energies. This person is an energy vampire but I see you taking bacc what was stolen. I see that this can be a friend or family member but Iâm seeing that this person is a emotional manipulator that love to play cat and mouse game to end up on top this person can be a water sign frfr cancer vibes mostly, this person is very low vibes and and energy they donât want to do anything but cause chaos and destruction! You donât need that in your life, like all the readings Iâm seeing that this love coming in is bringing in major clarity it can be someone or something that helps you see the toxic person for what they are and take back your energy itâs giving that song by botdf bewitched. (I donât stand with Dahvie but Jay Vanity (DAHLI) is my heart). I see that this person is used to being put on a pedestal by someone whether it be you or the ones around them, either way theyâre very spoiled and theyâre no good for you! Iâm seeing that youâre going to finally see the truth for what it is. This person brings drama and dark clouds youâre going to want nothing to do with this person and youâre going to reclaim all of your power! its almost like whatever draining you will be poured back into you. Youâre rubber, theyâre glue what they do bounces off you and sticks back to them! You will also feel so liberated hmm this may be connected to pile 1 so if you felt pulled there then this may be the answer cos I think this is the part 2 or the more information itâs giving freedom too, but this is from an actual person it can be a negative ex you may be going too or friend someone that you let slide always on their shit Iâm seeing that itâs going to end and that youâll realize this person again it can even be you just being in low vibrational space and youâre finally becoming self conscious and doing something about it whether then just waiting for someone to come help. Self care is needed!! So self love is coming into your life fashoooooo SELF SELF SELF! Go and treat yourself to some grade A fun you deserve it.
Thank you for reading.
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And just like that folks we are done I hope that this reading brought clarity and you guys enjoy it!
#tarot community#tarotblr#tarot reading#psychic#tarot cards#pick a pile#pac reading#free tarot reading#pick a card#fs pick a pile#love reading#tarot pac#love tarot reading#tarot witch#Spotify
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If only shipping was enough for me to overlook the questionable writing choices. It would make watching this show the easiest thing ever.
What also just really sucks about being a fan of Vi, is that 99% of Viâs fanbase canât see her existence outside of Caitlyn. I do like Caitvi, but there is zero interest in other parts of her story or her overall character outside of Caitlyn. Even her relationship with her sister is of zero interest to the majority of her fans.
I pretty much noticed only a certain demographic of niche Vi fans took issue with the awful writing and balant disrespect to her character.
Watching act 3, Vi really felt like a side character. I had to do a double take in what I was watching because it had become completely unrecognizable. Viâs writing was just really upsetting to me. It just sucks that not only did the show trash her character, but that most of her fans donât care about her personal feelings or the trauma she went through. They just expect her to be magically cured and care about nothing else in her life, only her girlfriend.
Really unfortunate that the shipping version of her character became canon. When I watched act 1 I was like, âIt sounds like a shipper wrote thisâ, then I remembered resident shipper Amanda Overton is in charge of writing her character and Caitlynâs lmao.
Yeah they massacred her all season really. She never makes any choice for herself in act 1, is pretty much a side character in act 2, and act 3 just made me think they hate her...sex in a prison cell where one she never gets pleasure herself and two when they didn't even have the decency to explore her trauma at all beforehand. That same genuine care that cait had for her in s1 is just not seen anymore. Meanwhile they give Jayce these poetic speeches about how he just wants his partner back and it's not even romantic, but way more thought out than whatever they did with caitvi. Vi calling herself the "dirt under caits nails" too??? My god...like I get that means you can't get rid of her but the least they could do after not giving a fuck about her all szn, not having cait give any cares about her aside from what we heard from other characters, and a gross sex scene, was NOT compare her to dirt of all things...like atp i'm convinced they fucking hate her and want us all to know it bc wtf, and how anyone can be okay with this is beyond me
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oooooofk ok I watched fan letter and I got so many thoughts rn.
I love how you can just tell that this was directed and written by people who grew up loving one piece. I love that the main character was a girl who idolized nami. I dunno it just feels so much more personal than if it was a boy who looked up to luffy (or god forbid a guy who was horny for nami like in the novel this short loosely adapted). Just looking up to this person not for their strength but for what they represent, for how much their accomplishment inpires you. Especially when it's in an environment filled with men. I know I'm not a woman so I can't speak for anyone but I definitely can tell this was relatable to a lot of women who grew up watching one piece and looked up to nami
And oh my god the Marine who was indirectly saved by luffy. This shit made the summit war look terrifying my god. Just seeing all the normal people who get crushed by every attack. It really does feel kind of crazy to think that luffy had such a profound influence on this man's life when he just so happened to be on the same island as him on one specific day. Or how nami simply existing serves as a daily inspiration for the girl. It's such a moving message, how your accomplishments can change and shape the lives of people you won't even know existed. Even if nami will never get the girls letter, she managed changed her life for the better whether she knows it or not
And also it's just really funny. I love the guys in the bar just dunking on zoro and sanji lmao. Or the marine who is just so in love with chopper (same, dude). And all the little cameos oughh. Thank you usopp for helping that girl for no reason. That's why you're the goat. Ouurggh and perona oh my gahhh. Dude and the animation my lord man. Absolutely wonderful short. Seriously, quit stretching the contents of the manga out for the anime, just gimme more filler if it's on the quality of this episode holy
#One piece#Op#Op anime#one piece anime#Anime#anime and manga#animation#one piece fan letter#Animated short#Nami#cat burglar nami#one piece nami#op nami#straw hat pirates#straw hat crew#straw hats#one piece luffy#luffy#monkey d luffy#straw hat luffy#monkey d. luffy#strawhats#ramble#rambling
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Fortified Wager âŁâŁâŁ đđŠđ˘đąđľđŚđł 8
âŚď¸âŚď¸ Aventurine x Reader âŚď¸âŚď¸ đđđđŚđ¤đĽđŁđđĽđđ
đąđ°đ˛đş đ
đž ăď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝
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đđ˘đ§đđđŤđđĽđĽđ đđ đđ˘đ đđđđđ˘đ (đ)
âââ ⪠âĽâŚâĽ ⍠âââ
âSee? You should have just kept quiet and done as you were told. The truth is, I actually like you. Youâre quiet and obedient.â
When Big Baddie stood up, you realized he was twice your size.
So, you let the gems fall, teetering on the edge of the table as bait.
Sorry, Aventurine.
Meanwhile, you let your watch slid over your knuckle as a makeshift brass knuckle. There was no way youâd deal any real damage otherwise.
âI was just trying to save you, you know? Iâm sure you also donât know this, but that Avgin slave over there killed his owner.â
The moment he leaned in, eager to grab a hold of the gems, you swung your fist straight into his face!
âOf course I know, you piece of shit!
Otherwise, what kind of Aventurineâs fan were you?
âUuoorrgghâ!!â
As your fist connected with his nose, you felt the sharp impact reverberate through your knuckles, followed by a sudden, jarring crunch. Big Baddie took the punch square in the face and staggered backward. Soon, he lost his balance and fell, crashing to the ground in a heap.
Regret always came too late.
As you watched your wristwatch fell, shattering its glass on the floor, you realized you still loved it after all!! Also, your hand hurt like a bitch! Shit! Fuck! You could feel tears welling up in your eyes.
Above all, you were furious.
Aventurine never even brought up his past, so who the fuck gave this guy the right to do so?!
You recalled how the pair of violet-cyan eyes looked so lifeless and devoid of emotion the moment his past was mentioned. It was clearly something difficultâsomething he preferred to keep private, and for obvious reasons.
If Aventurine were a male lead in a romance novel, it would have taken over 100 chapters and three different arcs before he revealed his past!! Even then, it would be only to the person he trusted most, someone he felt comfortable being vulnerable with!! That was just how delicate this was!!
And yet, and yet... this guy, heartlessly, in front of everyone...
In the past, Aventurine's entire family and clan were massacred by their enemies. Though he survived the ordeal, he was soon enslaved. Only God knows the depths of trauma and torment he suffered at their handsâenough to drive him to kill.
ââHahahaha! Of course! Of course she doesnât know! That's what you get for letting his looks fool you!â
âDo you know how hard Iâve been holding back my laugh?! I was wondering how to break the news this whole time! Hahahaha!â
Of course, taking a life was rarely, if ever, justified.
But that is not a reason to laugh at or shame him?! Especially not this bastard, who drove two innocent children to seek revenge!!
A single tear rolled down your cheek. Regret, anger, sorrow and pain washed over you all at onceâmostly pain.
While shaking your stinging hand like crazy, you screamed at Big Baddie, âBut so whatâ?! So what if he killed his master?!â
If you were beaten within an inch of your life every day and treated far worse than an animal, what would you do?
If you had nothing left to live for but to await your death at the hands of your enslaver, how would you respond?
ââIâd have done the same!!â
Your shoulders heaved up and down as you struggled to regain composure. All you knew was that you were ranting out of sheer rage.
âShut up!!â Big Baddie stood up while covering his nose. He glowered at you like a beast, blood oozing out of his hands. âYou're just a pathetic slut serving tables!! Do you really think I can't destroy you?! That worthless slave won't protect you from me!!â
â...!â
You instantly went quiet.
Seeing this, Big Baddie grinned with triumph, blood staining his gold and white teeth.
...Thatâs right.
Back when you were merely a third party, you could easily dismiss the whole incident with Big Baddie as "unreasonable." As much as you hated to admit it, you didnât see it as that big of a deal.
Why didnât the staff just skirt around the problem, make some excuses, and feign ignorance? Or, even better yet, fight back. Then, call the authority if things escalated. Easy-peasy.
Well, the reason, as it turned out, was plain and simple.
It was the same reason you didnât pick a fight with every professor who imposed outrageous assignments or feedbacks on you. Or why you hadnât shoved your middle finger down Erinâsâyour actual manager at the restaurant you actually worked atâprissy throat yet.
Because youâd be a dropout and without a job. Now, you wouldnât say that you knew how every single staff in Primavera felt, but you certainly wouldnât survive without your job, let alone switch colleges.
Facing against Billy Burnett, the infamous iron-fisted loan-shark, the stakes were even higher. One wrong move, and your entire life could be in jeopardy.
âNeed I remind you what kind of authority they have? A single word from them could ruin the lives of many. I wouldnât care if youâre the only one affected, but I also have something to protect, so stay in your lane.â
You recalled Mariusâ words.
You wouldnât blame him eitherâor anyone, for that matter. Everyone had their own circumstances. It was called âpicking your battles.â
Which was why, only you could do this.
If it wasnât youâwho would?
You grinned.
Thanks for the reminder, Big Baddie.
Thus, as the waiter of the high-end nightclub Primavera, you shot back, âWatch your language! Aventurine is one of our most valued customers, and we do not tolerate any form of abuse or mistreatment toward him!â
âWhaâ?!â
Big Baddie had a dumb look on his face. Perhaps this was the first time someone had called him out so boldly.
Also, you werenât even lying!! Who else could singlehandedly quadruple the profit of a luxurious nightclub?! Calling him Primavera Jesus would be more fitting! Obviously, the staff would want to cling to himâespecially after what you were about to do in their uniform, using their name!
While Big Baddie was still flabbergasted, you continued.
ââGiven that this behavior has persisted, we are left with no choice but to ask you to leave and ban you from returning!â
After enduring his tyranny for so long, those were likely the words the staff had been dying to say, but couldnât.
Then, your gaze briefly landed on your crisp, black uniform. Her uniform.
Of course, you wouldnât pretend to understand how Judith felt either.
Still, when everyone else was too terrified or stunned to do anything, her manager took a punch in the face for her. If you were her, youâd be happy, knowing that most managers out there wouldnât do even half as muchâand at the same time, sad. But above all, angry.
So, you thought of saying this for her.
ââAlso, thatâs for punching my manager, asshole!!!â
Yes, only you, or specifically, Aschenputtel, could do this.
Aschenputtel, who was destined to lost her job either way. Aschenputtel, who had neither family nor friends, and would disappear past midnight.
Hence, you, Aschenputtel, decidedâ
âIâm taking you down with me, Big Baddie.
ââââââââ
đžđ˝đ
đ°ďż˝ďż˝ďż˝đł đ
đž ăď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝
ď˝ ďźă
I realized that at the rate I was doing it before, the update will only come once a month, or even 2 months in case anything happened. ૮(Ëśă
︿ă
)á I don't want to keep you guys hanging for that long. So I decided to post it as soon as a part is finished. Do tell me if any of you prefer that I just finish it as a whole before updating :D
#aventurine fanart#honkai star rail#aventurine x reader#hsr aventurine#aventurine#aventurine x you#aventurine x y/n#aventurine honkai star rail#fanfic#fanart#hsr fanart#hsr x reader#star rail aventurine#aventurine hsr#fortifiedwagerfic#hsr x you#hsr art#hsr fanfic#honkai star rail fanart#maidflowerywrite
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Grand Arcane S2 review
because I really need it to move on
Remember how I mentioned I could write an entire book about everything that went wrong with this season? Well, this is what a little excerpt from it would look like.
Let's start with a personal note to clarify my relationship with this hell of a piece of media.
S1 was this miracle show that was able to break through the several years of depression and anhedonia and make me interested in something, make me try to get back into making art (or at least try to try), to put myself out there on the internet a bit, to try be a part of something and not ashamed of enjoying it, which I never allowed myself before. Coincidentally, I've been at what I thought then was the worst place in my life when it aired and it helped me a lot to get through it. I didn't even think I would make it to see S2, as thee years felt like forever then. Taking all that into consideration, I think you can already tell where this is going.
I honestly thought I was prepared for S2 not being good, as no show could be this perfect. Turns out I wasn't prepared at all. Act 1 made me very happy, so happy I watched it two times, but the rest is something I would've never watch again and rather forget about.
The characters I wanted to see the most were Warwick (body horror, The Wrath of Zaun haunting the streets - got just a glimpse of that, but it felt like nothing) and Viktor (cyborgs and cyber gore, misunderstood idealist, Blitzcrank - got basically nothing; the idea was kinda there somewhere, but got changed so much it didn't matter at all).
I can't believe they took a godforsaken champion like Viktor and not only ruined his story completely, but also managed to fuck up everything else by all of a sudden making him a center of all of this mess. The center being the arcane/hextech/magic, which never even gets resolved/explained. Still no idea why it got corrupted and what was the nature of it; the void was never taken anywhere despite being heavily hinted - everything was evil because it was, but luckily the magic of friendship saved us!! (I'll get to that)
Speaking of crucial plotlines that weren't taken anywhere.. Basically every character got screwed over and made empty. Let's use Vi for a quick example (may not actually be the best example, but hopefully you'll get what I mean) - when I saw the pit fighter scene released early, I expected to see it have a continuation in the show, but instead it ended up just being the exact same music video, nothing more. And that goes for some more events - they get compressed into music videos that make it all incredibly hollow. Fight scenes are fine like this, sure, but not something that was supposed to be a bit more emotional and serious. Anyway, they successfully made me hate most of the characters. Either hate or just straight up not recognize them, and in a bad way.
Long story short the pacing is awful (it only gets back to normal in ep7, as it resembles the structure of S1) and the writing sucks ass. I can't for the love of god believe it was written alongside S1. There's no way in hell - it's literally all the worst fan theories I've seen come to life and get mixed with fanservice. *puts on a tinfoil hat* Maybe this is the real why they needed an extra year or two, as S2 was initially supposed to be released earlier. No way in hell the same people who wrote S1 and cared so much about the characters would do anything like this. Riot must've gotten heavily involved, making us believe they cut the story short (I think 5 seasons in Piltover/Zaun were planned initially?) for the benefit of it, but all it really was is greed - let's make a bunch of bullshit happen and quickly move to another region to sell more skins for new champions.
Now let's get back to the ending. Man, it really had it all - the nonsense, the multiverse bullshit which basically makes nothing make sense anymore (if there was anything left), the (yes, I'm going to say it, because that's exactly what I felt) cringe and embarrassment. Never seen anything more hollow trying to convince me it was deep and emotional (sums up the whole show perfectly).
How the hell the only thing that was supposed to save Viktor from himself was Jayce telling him he's perfect the way he is? Sure, don't try to cure your illness (that my city caused, but "fortunately" another crucial part of the plot, which is the sister cities conflict, ceased to exist), it makes you beautiful, this is who you are (miserable, unwanted, feeling meaningless and like a burden, dying). I am at loss of words.
Now buckle up jayvik fans. I wasn't a fan of the ship as I'm not a fan of any ships in general, but now I despise it. I wouldn't mind if they actually went on with it, which no, they didn't. We don't want two men kissing (women making out is fine tho, won't make the gamers too angry), so let's play extra safe to make sure it could be explained as any type of other close bond (and that's exactly what Christian Linke does when asked about it). You disgusting cowards, either you show me this in plain sight and I wouldn't give it a second thought, or don't even try bring it up at all (and you can't deny it wasn't implied in S1 with all the Viktor's looks and parallels to Mel).
Where do I even begin? Because I don't think you have any idea on how many levels it actually sucks. If you read it as romantic it's basically telling me that if I was a gay man struggling with my feelings and not being able to confess for years, because I'm convinced I'm unworthy of love as something is inherently wrong with me, then the best I could get after surviving all this (what honestly seems like hell) is a hug, because you're ashamed of me and thus I should be ashamed of who I am till the very end.
Something equally bad is Jayce finding out (or rather we finding out) how wonderful the world could look like if he let go of his beautiful dream, his life's work, and killed himself - it never gets denied, as the corruption of hextech doesn't get explained.
Long story short, if you're struggling with your mental health, trauma issues, disability or any of the problems the characters you related to deal with, this show spits you in the face.
I could go on forever about everything that's wrong (even Jinx got played dirty), but let's finish with the few things I liked: act 1 was promising (it's when I believed they could still make sense of Viktor), fun Sevika's arcade arm fight, the epic fight at the Janna's temple (Woodkid goat), Jayce killing Salo (I felt something) and Jayce's glitchy madness in general, young Vander flashback (felt something), ep7 and Singed's story (the only one that makes any sense).
Other than that the show left me with nothing but void in my heart (I guess that's when it all went). The saddest thing being the masses love it anyway, as it seems they'll watch anything that's colorful enough. And Riot will make lots of money of off it, because in the end they never loose. I'm not denying Fortiche absolutely outdid themselves with the art, it's just heartbreaking nothing else even remotely stands up to it.
#hor.txt#it'll probably take me a few days to fix the spelling; pardon me#arcane#arcane spoilers#arcane review#arcane season 2#arcane critical#arcane rant#anti arcane#jayvik#viktor arcane#jayce arcane#mental health#arcane league of legends#league of legends#riot games
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(Note: idk the characters OP mentions or what they are from, I wanted to talk about peoples reaction to disability rep in general)
I think it's fantastic when non-disabled people talk positively about disabled characters, even if they do it a little clumsily (though not in the face of disabled people critiquing it... yeesh...) Just like with other marginalized groups. eg: we can be happy about having more PoC characters... even if we might not fully understand the nuances in their representation. We can be taught about that nuance by those who do understand - and that's how we learn to understand better. That's awesome.
The thing that's annoying, as OP describes, is that - especially for disability representation - existence seems to be the bar for entry. They see a prosthetic and go 'Wowee! Good enough :)'
Maybe existing can pass as 'good representation' for some things - like race, gender or sexual orientation (arguably - important: it depends on the particular media) But that doesn't really work for disability.
Depending on the setting and themes of a narrative, being a different race, gender or orientation doesn't alter how you can live. Having a disability, by definition, DOES alter how you live.
Example: Innocent little kids show, where a bunch of kids go on adventures together, doesn't need to display topics like racism, homophobia, transphobia etc. to be good representation. The kids can just exist the same as everyone else - just existing is enough.
But a disabled kid HAS to be disabled. Their life has to be shown as altered in unique ways - otherwise it risks being harmful. It doesn't need to be anything big, or sad, or the topic of an episode... Infact it's often better when it isn't.
+ Have a character wake their friend up early, knocking on her window - she says 'Wait! Let me get my leg on!!' + They go swimming - and she takes her leg off to swim. + It gets really muddy, so she gets a piggy-back from a friend so she doesn't get her leg stuck. + Or it DOES get stuck and someone pulls it out for her. + She's training for a race and she switches her leg to a running one. + Maybe she isn't in an episode - the other characters can't rely on her skills to solve an issue, because its Physical Therapy day.
You don't need to draw attention to it, she doesn't need to suffer - but she has to be different. She has to live with different worries. She can't just be the exact same as everyone else, because she isn't like everyone else. That's what being disabled means.
If she just does everything everyone else does, with no thought put into the fact she has a fake leg other than 'one of her legs is blue'... you are teaching that disabled people don't live differently. But we DO. We HAVE to. A little kid seeing a character never put any thought into the things they need to worry about doesn't feel GOOD. It feels WORSE.
People of minority racial groups, and people of differing identities, dream of a world where that doesn't matter, they can be the same. Disabled people don't get that dream. Having a leg re-grown...? God, even thinking about the physical therapy, training to walk again... It would just be nice if there was more understanding, more facilities and support, that some of us need to live different lives.
...I am not an amputee. My digestive organs are all messed up - and I have PTSD. That is a very different experience to being an amputee. But I can talk about what I think is good or bad representation, even if it might be clumsy sometimes, because: I understand that good disability representation is in how the character is affected by their disability, not by just existing.
And that's what I would want to share with any non-disabled person who feels excitement seeing a disabled character: think about how it affects their life. Think about the choices they make because of it.
Toph from Avatar isn't 'cool disability representation' because her blindness is accurate or realistic. It isn't. It's fantasy blindness. It's cool because she has to live differently. She uses her bending to super-power 'see' - but not in water, or sand, or for flying things... There is no 'fix' that gives her sight back. Only tools to help. ''How does blindness affect how she can live'' has been considered.
So... you have a character 'you didn't even notice had a prosthetic'. Is there no way in which she is shown to act or think differently because of it...? That's not particularly good representation. There can still be cool parts of it that are worthwhile representation, like an interesting history, or design, or function... ...but she isn't disabled unless she is disabled. Yknow...?
I really wish non-disabled folks would stop commenting on weather or not something is good disability rep, especially when people with those disabilities are critiquing the specific things these folks are bringing up as examples of why the character is so good.
I swear, if I hear one more person say "I didn't even realise Neve was an amputee, that's such good representation!" I'm going to scream lol.
Also just to clarify, I don't think Neve is bad, my feelings on her from a disability representation stance are more complicated, but her disability having such a small impact on her that a shocking number of players said they didnt even notice it until she tells you how she lost her leg is NOT what makes her good. "You cant even tell she's disabled" is not a flex. We've talked about this. Twice.
Same goes for the inquisitor and Hezencost but they're pretty minor characters so I'm seeing less of it there.
#disability#actually disabled#disability representation#disability in media#mywrite#this is important to me
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2 Minus 1 - Act Three
Seungcheol is doing good without you. Really good, in fact! Heâs got a great job, has his own apartment, and has many friends surrounding him. Heâs even done some dating in the three years that youâve been gone. On some blissful days, you donât even cross his mind. But when you reappear in his life, he has to come to terms with the fact that he might not be doing as good as he thought he was.Â
Genres: ANGST with a little bit of fluff here and there. One suggestive scene (minors, use caution).Â
Word count:Â 7.7k
Requested? Yes!
You can find the series masterlist here.
Minghaoâs throwing a New Yearâs Eve party. Seungcheol seemed to have found out last because itâs you that asks him if heâs going when you both step out for lunch a couple days before. Instead of going back to his office, he stops into his teamâs office, hanging over Minghaoâs cubicle wall. âWhen were you going to tell me you were throwing a New Yearâs Eve party? Is this your way of telling me Iâm not invited?â
âHuh?â Minghao mumbles, still typing up something. âOh, yeah. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. Didnât get a chance to send a message about it yet.â Seungcheol sort of accepts this answer because things have been pretty busy around here in preparation for the new year. New budget means new plans and new goals, along with a renewed push from leadership to break records. Thereâs been a lot of pressure to start out the year on the right foot.Â
Still, Seungcheol pouts a bit. âAnd Y/N knew before I did?â
âOh, yeah. I ran into her in the elevator yesterday and mentioned it. Stop being a big baby,â Minghao says, totally unsympathetic.Â
âY/N is coming?â Chan pipes up from his cubicle, sounding excited. He rolls his chair into the aisle, running into Seungkwan when he does the same thing. They both groan and start pushing each other. The rest of them ignore the scuffle.
âYes,â Minghao says shortly, turning to Seungcheol. âI assume youâll be there since youâre attached to her hip.â
He doesnât miss the sly look that all four of his friends give him at the mention. âNot sure what thatâs supposed to mean. I thought you wanted me to get along with her.â
âAs just a friend?â Vernon poses.Â
Seungcheol stalls out for a second, blinking. âYeah, of course. Why do you ask?â
âWell, thatâs a good thing, I guess. She asked if I minded if she brings a friend of hers. Someone from law school, or something. Heâs in town for the holidays,â Minghao explains and Seungcheol can see clear as day that this is bait. Still, he canât seem to help how his jaw clenches.Â
âDid she happen to mention his name?â
âJeonghan, something or other. Itâs a law school friend, you wouldnât know him right?âÂ
He knows theyâre continuing to bait him. Sheâs a friend and this is a person he doesnât know, so whatâs the big deal? Seungcheol canât help the curse he mutters. âNo, I know Jeonghan. Heâs from here, we went to school with him. And they dated while they were in California, apparently.â
An âooooâ echoes throughout the office, then a cackle or two. They all look like they need bags of popcorn with how entertained they look at his suffering. âOh no,â Seungkwan cries out in faux sympathy. âCheol, what are you going to do? Her exboyfriend came all the way here to see her.â
âHe didnât come here just to see her,â Seungcheol defends, fists tightening on the wall of Minghaoâs cubicle. âI just said heâs from here. Heâs here to see family first, surely.â
âAnd run to see his ex before he goes back home? Maybe get a New Yearâs Kiss from her?â Chan wiggles an eyebrow. The thought makes Seungcheolâs blood boil. Heâd intentionally avoided spending much time thinking about you with Jeonghan. He knew you had kind of made the poor guyâs dreams come true by dating him.Â
âOh my god, look how red heâs getting,â Seungkwan chortles.Â
Minghao turns to give them a warning look, though he sort of looks entertained too. He glances back to Seungcheol. âDon't pop a vein. You look pretty jealous for someone that fell apart when he found out she worked here.â
âIâm not jealous,â he insists stubbornly. Not a single one of them buy it and he huffs. âGet back to work. We have things due at the end of the day.â
He is not jealous. He is not jealous. He is not jealous! It becomes his mantra the whole afternoon as he tries to get through his to-do list.
~
He is not jealous. He is not jealous. He is not jealous!
He chants it to himself in his head when he knocks on your door. Jeonghan opens the door with a wide grin. âHey, Seungcheol. Itâs been a while,â he says letting him in. Seungcheol had always liked Jeonghan in high school. He was funny, a little bit of a troublemaker, but also seemed to be incredibly intelligent, judging by how he was always in the running for top of the class. He tries to be warm, but Jeonghan looks far too comfortable in your apartment. He wonders if Jeonghan stayed here for a couple days while in town. He wonders where he slept - was it the guest bedroom or somewhere else?
âYeah, it has. How have you been?â He sits with Jeonghan in the living room, doing small talk. Theyâre interrupted by a yell from the hallway.Â
âHannie, who are you talking to?âÂ
âSeungcheol,â Jeonghan shouts back.Â
âOh!â You shout. âHi Cheol. I promise Iâm almost ready.â
âYeah right,â Jeonghan mumbles. âIâve never seen her be ready on time.â
This does make Seungcheol snort. âNever.â
Jeonghan gives him a curious look. âHow are things going there? Between you two, I mean. She was pretty anxious about running into you.â
The question gives Seungcheol pause for so many reasons. So many, in fact that it makes him shake his head confused. âYou want to hear how things are going with your ex?â
Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, entertained. âYes. Do you want to hear how things are going with your ex?â That question makes him grit his teeth and Jeonghan spots it, chuckling. âYeah, that tracks. But yes, I want to know that things are going well between you two, no matter what itâs defined as.â
Seungcheolâs jaw is tight. âWeâre fine. We always will be.â
He hates how Jeonghan leans back, feet propped up on your coffee table, sipping his drink like he owns the place. Like he has Seungcheol right where he wants him. âUh huh. So no plans to rekindle anything then? Just going back to friends?âÂ
âYes,â Seungcheol grinds out. âHave you always been this nosy?â
Jeonghan laughs. âMaybe not, but Iâm invested when it comes to Y/N. The consequences of dating for a few years, I suppose.â
Seungcheolâs breath catches. When you said you had dated Jeonghan for a while, he was picturing a few months, not years. He doesnât know why you didnât just tell him the actual timeframe, but then he thinks better of it. If heâs not handling it well now, then he wouldnât have handled it well a while back either.
Finally, Seungcheol decides he sort of hates Jeonghan - not him as a person necessarily, but because you sort of made a home with him in California for three years. Enough for Jeonghan to come see you when heâs in town. He wishes there was even a tinge of bitterness between you and Jeonghan post breakup.
âSo, what? You've come to visit and get back together?â He canât really hide his own bitterness. âHowâs that going to work when you both live across the world from each other?â
Jeonghan shrugs casually. âDistance wouldn't be an issue for me personally, but Iâm actually looking for jobs here.â
He doesnât get a chance to reply because heâs spiraling a bit and youâre rushing into the room, dressed to the nines and itâs all so distracting. âIâm ready! Letâs go!â You yell, shoving your feet in heels and grabbing a coat while Seungcheol and Jeonghan trail behind you. You chatter enough for everyone on the way to Minghaoâs and when he leads you both into his friendâs apartment, he goes straight to the alcohol. He feels sick to his stomach before the first sip, but he needs the distraction from thinking about Jeonghan moving back and moving in with you next door and having to see you two together all the time.Â
Heâd have to move and probably quit his job. And maybe leave the face of the earth.
~
Jeonghan knows quite a few people here tonight, but he still stays glued to you. Itâs nice, really. Youâve settled in and have gotten comfortable with the way things are since moving back, but Jeonghan is an extra slice of familiarity that comforts you, if only for a couple days before he has to fly back.Â
Itâs not like you two havenât talked nearly every week since you moved, but there are so many things that you both seem to want to talk about now that youâre face to face. You missed him, and you missed Joshua, who you can get decent updates on now that Jeonghan is in front of you. Joshua has scheduled to take the bar exam and has been studying night and day, ignoring pretty much everyone since graduation. Jeonghan says he pops in every few days to get him to come up for air.Â
Youâve told him about your job, which you feel pretty neutral about it. Like Seungcheol, Jeonghan assures you that itâs okay to just have a job now and not a career, and that the degree wasnât wasted if you donât take the bar and practice law. He even discourages it because even though he hasnât hit the books as hard as Joshua has, he says itâs still miserable.
Heâs also incredibly nosy about how things are going with Seungcheol. When you told him about your first run in and subsequent birthday parties, heâd chuckled and told you it was only a matter of time. You canât share mutual friends for your whole lives and never see each other. But he flat out cackled when you told him that youâd unknowingly accepted a job at the same company that he worked for. Jeonghan reveals that he knew that all along and you wished you could strangle him through the screen. You even threaten to get on a plane to do it in person. He just rolled his eyes and said, âWhat? You donât check LinkedIn from time to time? I knew the company you accepted the role from sounded familiar so I checked.â He was still more entertained when you told him who your new neighbor was and made some joke about fate.
In the present, Jeonghanâs grinning over his glass at you in the corner of the room. âSomeone hates me, I think. Iâm getting a death glare.â
You raise an eyebrow. âLike itâs hard to hate you?â He shoves you lightly. âBut who?â
Jeonghan snorts. âWho do you think? The most jealous person I think Iâve ever met.â He gestures across the room and itâs not hard to figure out who heâs talking about. Seungcheol looks pissed, but youâre confused because for the life of you you canât figure out why heâd be pissed at you or Jeonghan. You thought things were good between you and Seungcheol now, especially after he said he didnât hate you on Christmas just a week ago. He really looks like that could have been a lie right now.
âBut why? Heâs not entertained anything more than friendship, and even then that was like pulling teeth at first,â you sigh, looking down into your glass.
Jeonghan sighs lovingly. âOh, honey. I love you so much, you know that, right?â You nod when it seems he actually wants an answer. âBut sometimes, youâre incredibly dense. Donât worry, Iâll fix it.â
Your eyes widen, hair standing on end. This doesnât sound like a âspilled coffee on your laptop but here take mineâ kind of fix. The look on his face makes you nervous. âWhat are you planning, Yoon Jeonghan?â
He looks mildly entertained at your threatening tone before turning serious. âDo you trust me?â You stare up at him, blinking. âI need an answer to that. I can fix this but it might get worse before it gets better.â
âDefine âfixâ. And what are you fixing exactly?â You press.
âYou and Seungcheol. Itâs time to do something about this, but my methods might be unorthodox and you need to roll with it if it will work.â
Jeonghan has never led you astray and you do trust him implicitly. You glance to Seungcheol, who still looks angry, before looking back up at Jeonghan, huffing. âWhat did you have in mind?â
Minghao is coming around with flutes of champagne. The ball drop is queued up on the TV with the countdown ticking. You both take glasses from Minghao, setting your other ones to the side. âI promise it will be okay,â Jeonghan says evasively. It makes your anxiety spike.
âHannie, please tell me what youâre planning.â
People are starting to countdown and he has to lean in close to your ear so you can hear him. âIâm going to help you make him jealous.â
You blanch, pulling away from him to give him a look. âWhat?!â
Heâs pulling you back to him, hand now on the small of your back. âJust trust me. Heâs holding back right now, but once all of that anger comes out I think heâll be more upfront about his feelings. Namely that heâs not over you. You want that, donât you?â
You think fast in seconds. You donât like the pressure of the countdown. You do want to rekindle things with Seungcheol if heâd ever let you. Youâd never really wanted it to end in the first place but it seemed inevitable at the time. And now heâs been a lock box for pretty much everything that isnât professional as coworkers or casual as friends. He treats you like he wasnât your best friend for years and it stings. He treats you like he wasnât totally in love with you while dating, just as you were with him, and that stings even more. You want him back.Â
The countdown has hit ten and you lean in to Jeonghanâs ear. âYouâre sure this will work? How sure?â
â99% sure.â
âOkay, then. Donât make me hate you.â
Jeonghan chuckles and his lips are on yours when the ball drops.Â
~
It becomes apparent at approximately 11am on January 2nd that you should have doubted Jeonghanâs little plan. You have a meeting with Seungcheol's department to wrap up the contract revisions and Mrs. Jang and Seokmin have let you take the lead on it. It becomes clear within the first five minutes of the meeting that youâve done something wrong.
Or everything wrong, really.
Seungcheol is cold, even flat out rude to you as you present the revisions, explaining the logic behind some of the changes. Nothing is good enough and heâs brutal about correcting your work in front of everyone. Minghao tries to delicately step in and get you back on track on some of the things youâve done, but if he disagrees with the things he doesnât speak up on, he doesnât say so. Everyoneâs uncomfortable and you close out the meeting as smoothly as possible, letting them know that youâll make the revisions they mentioned and send out an updated version later today for review.Â
In the elevator, Mrs. Jang kindly says that you did well and youâll get better with those little things with time. Youâre thankful that sheâs not disappointed or upset with some of the mistakes youâve made, and that sheâs giving you grace to fix it. But still, youâre itching to go somewhere and cry because Seungcheolâs never treated you like that.
Seokmin seems to sense it because heâs handing you your coat as soon as you get back into your shared office. âLetâs go for a long lunch.â He doesnât really leave room for an argument, and even threatens to go into the womenâs restroom to get you if you take too long on your way out of the building. He promises he'll close the office door later this afternoon if you still wanted to cry.
At the restraurant down the street, he orders food before sitting back and sighing. âThat was rough. How are you feeling?â
âPretty fucking fragile,â you bite, trying to blink back your tears. You do not want to cry in this restaurant right now. Youâre almost angry at how emotional of a reaction youâre having.
Seokmin looks sympathetic. âIâll say. That must be the âunpleasantnessâ some people alluded to before. What even prompted that? I thought things were going well there.â
You put your head in your hands, sighing. âMy stupidity prompted it.âÂ
âWhat? What could you have possibly done to deserve that?â Seokmin cries out. You explain everything - Jeonghan, and your relationship back in California, and his bright idea on New Yearâs. Seokmin hums, nodding his head with a deep sigh. âOkay, yeah. That might have been stupid.â
You groan, interrupted by the waiter bringing you and Seokmin your food. âIt made sense at the time. And itâs not like Jeonghan doesnât know Seungcheol. They might not have been super close, but Jeonghanâs usually pretty good at reading people and I trusted his assumption.â
âEat,â Seokmin nudges, handing you chopsticks. âAnd his assumption was what? That Seungcheol would snap and confess his feelings?â
âSomething like that,â you answer weakly. âSeems like it backfired. Yet another thing Iâve ruined.â
âNuh uh,â Seokmin says automatically, waving his chopsticks at you. âStop saying you ruin things. Ruining implies you canât fix it.â
âAnd you think I can fix this? This felt pretty far gone before I made this most recent bad decision.â
Seokminâs insistent though. âGoing to law school abroad wasnât a bad decision. Did it hurt? Probably. But stop acting like doing something for yourself ruins everything.â He pops a bite of chicken into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before continuing. âBesides, Iâm not doubting your trust in Jeonghanâs theory. Some people respond to jealousy⌠It just seems like it will get worse before it ever gets better.â
You play with your food, moving it around on the plate. âYeah, Jeonghan said something like that. I just expected some silent treatment or something. Not to be berated in a work meeting.â
âYeah, Iâm sure heâs hearing about that as we speak.â You give Seokmin a look and he chuckles, raising an eyebrow. âHis team loves you. They did not look happy about his behavior. Not sure it will change anything, but this does seem like a problem between you and Seungcheol, rather than a problem with your work itself. Iâve made the same mistakes you did.â
You groan. âAnd to think heâs my neighbor. I canât even escape it at home.â
Seokminâs choking on his food. âHeâs your neighbor?!âÂ
âOh,â you start. âYeah, did I forget to mention that?â
When heâs no longer choking, he shakes his head. âThatâs it, youâre paying this time. I know it was my turn and I was going to be nice because youâve had a rough morning, but you better have your wallet ready because Iâm ordering egg rolls to go.â
You get scolded all afternoon about keeping secrets from your only favorite office mate.
~
Seungcheol huffs from behind his monitor. Heâs sent a message in the team group chat and itâs starting to look like heâs talking to himself as he scrolls through the recent chat history. He sends something, be it a task or a request for a status update, and he gets the shortest responses possible. Usually a thumbs up emoji, but sometimes a short answer if an explanation is required. Sometimes, itâs nothing at all. Theyâre doing the work, but itâs clear theyâre mad. They have been since earlier this week.Â
Seungcheol isnât proud of himself for how he handled that meeting with you earlier this week. He didnât stick around afterwards because he could tell his team was disappointed. But they usually arenât shy about telling him their problems, even with him. The silence is deafening and he knows heâs fucked up.
Minghao comes in to drop off a stack of papers and looks like heâs trying to exit quickly, but Seungcheol stops him. âWhatâs this?âÂ
Minghao spins in the doorway. âFinancials for last quarter. I need your signature on it before I can ship it off to Budgets.â
âOh,â Seungcheol mumbles. âIâll just do it right now.â He grabs a pen and starts skimming, but Minghao cuts him off.
âActually, do it later. Iâm not ready to be berated for my work right now.â
Seungcheol pauses and purses his lips, placing the report and the pen back down. âWhy would I do that? Your work is usually flawless. Thatâs why youâre the team lead.â
âI donât know,â Minghao drawls coldly. âYou can be pretty brutal it seems.âÂ
Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek. âIs that why you guys have been dodging me all week?â To his credit, Minghao doesnât deny it and thatâs answer enough. Seungcheol sighs. âWas it that bad?â
âBad? Iâm sure she ran off to cry after the meeting. I think even I would have had an emotional reaction,â Minghao says bluntly. The knife twists in Seungcheolâs chest. He was so angry, and still is, that he hadnât been thinking about your reaction. Minghaoâs sighing, coming back in to sit down. âI thought you could be civil. What the hell happened to that?â
âI donât know,â Seungcheol mumbles. He certainly does know, but heâs not brave enough to say it, lest he piss off his friends even more.
Still, Minghao scoffs. âLook. I saw her and Jeonghan on New Yearâs. It really is okay if you just admit that youâre jealous. Iâd even sympathize with you on it. You bottling things up is 90% of the problem here.â
Stubbornly, Seungcheol shakes his head. He doesnât know why the word âjealousâ made him flip a switch so fast, but heâs back to being angry. âIâm not jealous. I did what you said and I tried to salvage some sort of friendship, but itâs hard to watch your ex with someone else. Thatâs not jealousy though. Thatâs me trying to accept the fact that things are different.â
âAnd your acceptance of these changes means ripping her apart in a professional setting?â Seungcheol doesnât really have a response. No matter how he felt in the moment, he was embarrassed that he acted so unprofessionally. Minghao shakes his head. âI told you up front, you should just tell her youâre angry. Admit it and youâll feel a lot lighter.â
âWhy would she want to hear about that? I mean, who knows whatâs going on with her and Jeonghan? He said heâs looking for jobs here.â
âAnd none of that might matter if you just admit how you feel,â Minghao insists. Seungcheolâs phone rings and Minghao stands up. âTake it. Iâve said all I can say now.â
~
Itâs Saturday morning and your phone has gone off no less than ten times since 8am. You know who it is but youâve been letting it ring. But after youâre ripped from sleep for the eleventh time, youâre starting to lose patience. You switch off the sound, turning on vibration. But the buzzing across your nightstand is just as obnoxious and by the thirteenth call, youâre snatching up your phone. âWhat?â You snap.
âOh, so you arenât dead!â Jeonghan cheers.Â
âNope, not dead. Just mad,â you bite, burying yourself back into the covers.Â
âUh huh, I kind of figured that out when you ignored everything I sent the whole week,â Jeonghan smarts. âNow are you going to tell me whatâs wrong so I can fix it?â
You snort. âNo, I will not let you fix anything else for a while.â
âAh,â Jeonghanâs voice lifts and it irritates you. âWell I did tell you it could get worse before it gets better.â Youâre silent, and his voice turns gentle. âCome on. Tell Hannie about it.â
âNo. You need to be going to bed,â you insist, thinking of the time difference. Mad as you are, he needs his sleep.
âAnd I havenât been able to do much of that, what with my best friend ignoring me. Now, help me so I can help you.â
You sigh. âHold on. Let me get coffee and switch to FaceTime.â Once dressed with a coffee mug in hand in front of your computer, you rant. It feels never ending and it brings you to tears. All of the frustration of the last week, and really the last few months of living here, are boiling over and you feel like you could sob.Â
To his credit, Jeonghan looks sympathetic. He usually prevents these crying jags before they start, but he canât really do that oceans away. âIâm sorry, honey. I did say it could get worse before it gets better, but I was genuinely hoping it would never get that bad. I kind of just wanted him to spit it out, you know?â He sighs, watching you rub your watery eyes. âHave you seen or talked to him since then?â
You scoff. âNo. Thankfully, there havenât been any more meetings and Iâve managed to avoid him at home too. Iâve been going in early and staying late, if only so he doesnât feel compelled to give me a ride or anything.â You snort at the thought. âNot that he would do that right now, I think.â
âI donât know that Iâd go that far,â Jeonghan trails off. âYou know, you could just ask what his deal is? At least, he wouldnât be holding back because he thinks you donât want to hear it.â He hesitates for a beat. âYou do want to hear it, right?â
You sigh, swirling your now-cold coffee. âI donât know. Who knows what he might have to say? Maybe itâs better if we just stick to being coworkers. Maybe we can manage that one day.â
âIâm sure,â Jeonghan says confidently. âBut donât be shy about clearing the air for everything else if he gives an opening. Youâll both feel better for it, I think.â Then heâs holding up his phone. âNow, play me back in Words with Friends. Our game is about to expire! You canât ignore me like this!â
~
The following week, Seungcheol stays late to wrap up some things. Itâs 7pm before he finally stands to stretch, grabbing his coat and logging out of his computer. He looks at his phone on the way to the elevator and mumbles a curse. Heâs got multiple notifications about a winter storm thatâs rolling in, well, right now. Heâs relieved he drove today, but it seems it doesnât matter because road conditions seem to be a problem at the rate that the snow is coming down.Â
He steps into the elevator when it arrives and presses for the first floor, going back to his phone. Heâs surprised when the elevator stops almost immediately on the tenth floor. He bites back a sigh when itâs you of all people waiting for it. You look like you might back away and not get in the elevator with him, but he waves you in impatiently. You come in, finding the opposite corner in silence. Itâs crushing and uncomfortable.Â
On the first floor, he lets you step out first and even gets the door for you at the main exit. Outside, heâs ready to hustle to the parking garage because he had every reason to be concerned about the road conditions and doesn't want to dally. But you havenât moved and it makes him bite back a curse. He doesnât want to offer you a ride but it would be beyond rude not too. Plus, if Wonwoo or Mingyu knew he didnât, heâd never hear the end of it.Â
Seungcheol huffs irritably. âCome on.â You give him a confused look. âYouâre not walking home. Come on before I change my mind.â
The only indication that you follow is the soft click of your heels behind him up into the parking garage. You donât say anything as you climb into the passenger seat of his car, placing your bag in the floor. Seungcheol blasts the heat and pulls out of the space. The street is slick and he white knuckles it the whole way home as he drives around a number of accidents. Youâre still silent, up until he pulls into his reserved spot in the parking garage at home.Â
âThank you,â you mumble softly.Â
Seungcheol is tired in every sense of the word - mentally, physically, emotionally. So he mumbles back, âFor what?â He rubs his eyes during the beat of silence that you let pass.
âFor the ride. For making sure we got home safe.â
Heâs exhausted by your constant thanks lately. âThanks for asking.â âThanks for the help.â âThanks for the ride.â Itâd never occurred to him that you didnât say it much before, but now it drives him up the wall that you do say it. âWhy wouldnât I do that?â He huffs tiredly.Â
You hesitate again. âBecause you hate me. It seems like it, anyway. Youâre a good person for doing those things even if you feel that way, Cheol.â
His blood his boiling through the exhaustion and it occurs to him that this is a perfect opportunity to unload like Minghao has been encouraging him to do for months, so he does. His hand falls from his face, landing in his lap with a hard slap. He snaps his head to you sharply. âYou know, yeah. I do hate you.â He watches how your perfectly guarded expression falls, but heâs on a roll already. âI do hate you. You make yourself a fixture in my life for over two decades. You let me in after I pined for you for years. You show me what itâs like to be loved by you. And then you rip it all away and move across the world like it all meant nothing.â His elbow lands on the door frame so he can lean into his hand in frustration. âAnd then you waltz back in like itâs no big deal and I canât seem to get rid of you now because youâre everywhere. If I donât see you at work or at home or with family and friends, I still hear about you. And I was doing good without any of that! I was happy again after you ripped my fucking heart out, and now I have to see you every goddamn day. So yeah. I do hate you.â
A thing about you that he should have remembered is that you have a temper to match his. You look livid now. âFirst of all, Choi Seungcheol, you act like you pined alone all that time. You know you didnât. And youâre apparently still bitter that I did something for myself for once, rather than for you. I bent over backwards for everyone for years - taking care of my brothers and Mingyu, trying to be the perfect eldest daughter for my parents, and feeding your massive fucking ego. I needed to go explore that opportunity for myself for once but you didnât have to leave my life because of it. The phone works both ways, asshole. I may have physically left, but youâre the one that ended all communication in the first place. Second of all, I didnât come back for you! At least, not entirely! Itâs not all about you! So you can keep being happy and pretend that I donât exist if thatâs what you prefer. Because I hate you too. I hate that I still want you even though I donât even recognize you anymore sometimes.âÂ
Seungcheol scoffs heatedly. âYeah, you wanted me enough to move on to Jeonghan as soon as you got to California. And you really wanted me on New Yearâs while you were making out with him in the corner. Tell me, why did you even bother breaking up with him? Or is that just what you do? You seem rather good at it, two for two. And heâs still clinging on to your every word even though you left him, but that wonât be me.â
Your jaw drops briefly before you snap it back up sharply, eyes fiery. âYou know what? Jeonghan was wrong about you. Heâs been encouraging me this whole time to find a way to fix things with you, but I wonât be doing that anymore. You can watch me leave all over again.â You swing the car door open, lucky that thereâs no car next to you to ding up, and slam it closed hard, marching into the apartment building. Seungcheol sits in the car for who knows how long until he realizes he shouldnât let the car run inside the parking garage like this. He wanders into his own apartment and doesnât see or hear from you the rest of the night.Â
~
The snow comes down hard throughout the night and the city can barely keep up with it. Leadership in the office send out an email blast early the next day after your fight with Seungcheol saying that the offices will be closed. You enjoy the day off by going back to sleep to try to mend your broken heart. Around noon, you take a long shower and pile up on the couch with some hot chocolate to watch TV. As luck, or the lack of rather, would have it, the power cuts off within the first episode.
You curse out loud, clumsily dropping your mug onto the coffee table. Itâs still bright out given that itâs midday, but the dark corners of your apartment unnerve you. You feel childish for it, but you donât like the dark. Itâs something youâve never grown out of. Even in your mid to late twenties, you still like to sleep with the TV on at night if only to chase away the bad dreams.Â
You think about who to call. Itâs not a problem right now while itâs still light out, but if the power is still out when itâs dark out, youâll be one big ball of anxiety. But you think better of calling anyone. You need to save your phone battery and you donât want anyone out on the road to come and get you. Not your parents. Not Wonwoo or Mingyu. None of your other friends. Seungcheol has about twenty feet to travel, but reaching out to him is out of the question and it wouldnât matter anyway because his apartment is just as dark as yours. You take some medicine that you rarely have to touch for anxiety anymore and plop down on the couch next to the window with a book to try to pass the time. Youâll cross that bridge when you get to it.Â
Itâs somewhere around 5:30pm when the light is beginning to dwindle. Youâre trying to get through this last chapter when thereâs a knock on your door. It startles you because the silence had your ears ringing all day, and you put your hand to your chest, book forgotten. Hesitantly, you stand up and go to the door, looking through the peep hole. However, itâs dark in the hall because there are no windows (not that they would have helped much now).Â
âWho is it?â You call out, checking the lock.Â
âItâs me,â a masculine voice says from the other side. You want to beat your head against the door because the voice is unmistakable.Â
âGo away, Seungcheol. Iâm fine,â you call out.
âProve it,â he challenges. He knows heâs won by challenging you like that, but he has the good sense to not look overly pleased by it when you do open the door. In the dim light, he actually looks concerned. âI called and texted to check on you.â
You fold your arms across your chest. âWell, Iâm fine. Just reading.â Never mind that you had no idea he reached out.
âWell, your reading session is limited with the daylight fading. So get some stuff and come over to mine,â he says impatiently.Â
You blanch. âUh, why would I do that? You hate me, remember?â
In the darkness, you see him squeeze his eyes shut, looking frustrated. âCome on, Y/N. Iâm trying to do something nice here,â he nearly begs. âYou donât like the dark, but at least you donât have to be here alone. Plus, I got food and have some portable chargers for our phones.âÂ
âI thought you didnât want to see me anymore,â you bite. Youâre aware that you might be acting like a bit of a bitch, especially since heâs extending some kind of olive branch in the moment, but youâre still incredibly bitter about how the conversation last night ended.Â
Seungcheol huffs, impatience bleeding out of him. âY/N, that was me asking nicely. Iâll just throw you over my shoulder. You know that. Donât test me.â
You know his threat is real, but you donât budge. âWhen did you become so fucking hot and cold?â You hiss. âYou hate me, and now you arenât accepting no for an answer. Pick a lane, Seungcheol.â
âAnd you have yet to tell me no. Youâve just sassed, throwing things I said yesterday back in my face. So what will it be?â He snaps.Â
âI donât understand you!â You groan. âYou are so fucking frustrating, Choi Seungcheol.â
He hums, looking resigned. âSo be it.â Then heâs barreling into the doorway, scooping you up over his shoulder. He grabs your phone off the coffee table, stuffing it in his pocket, grabbing your keys off the hook to lock the door behind you both on the way out. What little kicking and screaming you do is over fast because you know him better than to think it will work. Your arms stay crossed when he puts you back on the ground inside his own apartment, totally unfazed by your glare. âMake yourself comfortable,â he says, handing you your phone.Â
He walks farther into the apartment and you whirl around to bite back at him, but youâre surprised at the sight in the living room. Candles are lit all over the room. He does have dinner - bags of takeout that are still steaming on the coffee table. And there are many blankets on the couch. The portable chargers he mentioned are also on the coffee table, along with a few different cords. Itâs⌠cozy, like you two are having a sleepover, something youâve done more times than you can count.Â
Seungcheolâs sitting on the couch now, splitting the takeout boxes up. He puts a few boxes in front of the spot next to him along with some chopsticks. âBroccoli beef. Come on.â
He doesnât ask if itâs still your favorite, and your stomach grumbles loudly, so you sigh, joining him on the couch in silence. You both eat and nearly an hour passes before either of you say anything.Â
Youâre leaning back into the corner of the couch with one of the blankets up to your neck, staring at the wall ahead. âI donât get you,â you mumble.
âI know,â he says softly, lacking any heat. It makes you tear up and you feel stupid for it. Still, you sniffle and you know he knows what it means. But he stays planted on his corner of the couch, matching your pose.
âI feel like Iâll never be able to get it right with you now. Not as coworkers. Not as friends. Not as anything more,â you mumble. âI donât even know which one Iâm supposed to try to get right, but I feel like Iâll always ruin everything anyway.â
Seungcheol is quiet for a long time and you almost forget youâre carrying a conversation until he speaks up again. âI donât hate you. I should have never said that. What I meant is that sometimes I wish I did. I feel like Iâm 22 all over again, getting my heart ripped out when youâre around.â You feel your chin tremble a bit at his words. âI shouldnât have made that your problem though. Not the way I have lately anyway.â
âYou know I didnât leave without any guilt, right? Because I was drowning in it for a long time. I'm sorry for how I left things.âÂ
âI know,â Seungcheol whispers, sitting up to look at you. You sit up, matching his pose. âYou were right last night. You needed to go to do something for yourself for once. Iâm sorry my ego got in the way. I was thinking about the loss that I was about to experience and I was selfish.â
You take a deep breath, never really expecting to get an apology of any sort from him. âYou had every right to be upset. I just⌠wanted you to be happy for me. Someday, anyway.â
âAnd I am,â he says solidly. âI am happy for you. That you went to the program that you wanted. That you moved back. That you might fix things with Jeonghan. I really am.â
You canât help but give him a quizzical look. âJeonghan? What does he have to do with this?â
Seungcheol gives you a matching quizzical look. âI⌠was under the impression that you guys might be getting back together. After New Yearâs and all.â
You chuckle, putting your hands over your face. âOh, yeah. That.â
âHave I misunderstood?â Seungcheol asks, confusion obvious.
âNo, I guess that was the entire point. Iâm not proud of it at all, but Jeonghan seemed to think that it would rile you up.â Seungcheol looks irritated even in the darkness, so you tack on an honest apology.Â
âSo you wanted me to be jealous?â He grinds out.
âNo,â you quickly say. âI just wanted anything from you, honestly. There were a lot of things unspoken between us and I didnât know how to get them out into the open.â
Seungcheol crooks his finger at you and youâre really helpless to not follow the instruction. You push off your blanket and sit on the cushion next to him. His finger finds your chin, holding it gently. âWell, it worked. I was jealous. Still am.âÂ
âOh?â You mumble, wide eyed. Thereâs something about his intensity that makes you feel both shy and excited at the same time. He was somewhat possessive in the past, and itâs a little thrilling to know that he still might feel that way about you.Â
Heâs getting closer, creeping into your space. âI kind of hate him, actually. Wish youâd never given him a chance, because heâll always rub it in my face.â His hand wanders from your chin, up your cheek, pushing your hair back. The touch is soft and makes you want to fold right away. Itâs really totally unfair how much power he has over you. Youâre reduced to a little hum in acknowledgement and he continues. âWish youâd forget about him. Iâd make you if youâd let me.â
The words spill out fast. âIâd let you do whatever.â
In the darkness, you can see Seungcheolâs eyes flare before heâs breathing a long sigh. His fingers in your hair tug lightly, pulling your head to the side. Heâs crowding you, other hand wrapping around to your back, lips finding your neck delicately. Your hands find his chest, clinging to his hoodie. âI missed you.âÂ
The words make your eyes well up again, despite how his hand is crawling up the back of your sweatshirt and his lips are trailing up and down to the spots he knows you like. âI missed you too.â
The crack in your voice makes him lift up to meet your eyes. âIf we go here again, I need you to be all in like I am. Are you?â You think he might be tearing up too, but you canât be sure.Â
âYeah, Cheol,â you say, hands crawling up from his chest into his hair. âIâm all in.â
âOh, thank god,â he groans, slamming his body into yours, lips finding yours. You both fall back onto the couch together and in a lot of ways it feels like you never left.
~
âYouâre late.â
Minghao tries to look upset as Seungcheol rushes into the conference room for their team meeting. Luckily, Seungcheolâs supervisor isnât in this one, just Seungcheol and his team. The others try to match the annoyance, but it doesnât stick. They havenât been good about looking annoyed with him in weeks.Â
âSorry, got a late start this morning,â Seungcheol excuses, pulling out his notebook and pen.Â
âDate night on a Wednesday?â Seungkwan teases. âCome on, we have things to do. Save it for Friday.â
âNo, Fridayâs still date night. Who knows what kept him up late last night?â Chan says, though he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Seungcheol throws one of the thin coasters on the table in his direction.
âLetâs keep it professional, please,â Seungcheol says, hoping it comes out as a demand, but he knows it's more of a plea.
âUh huh. Professional like making out with Y/N in your office in the middle of the day?â Seungkwan bites back.Â
âOh man, that was traumatizing,â Vernon chuckles.Â
âHe has glass doors, you think heâd be more aware of his surroundings,â Chan tacks on.
Theyâd known the day that everyone came back after the snow storm that something had changed and theyâd refused to leave his office until they found out what it was. Seungcheol shouldnât have been astonished by it, but they started trading money in front of him when he announced that he was official with you (again). Apparently, his behavior in meetings wasnât the only bet theyâd made. Minghao pocketed a pretty generous amount of money and was once again unfazed at the threat of going to HR. His exact words were, âokay, fire me.â
Seungcheol wouldnât be doing that.Â
But since then, they hadnât let him breathe about much of anything. He takes two minutes extra for lunch? Must have stopped to see you. Lingers after a meeting? Itâs only because you were in that meeting. Running late like today? Must be your fault.Â
Still, Seungcheol is flushing about the fact that he was caught with you in his office last week, so he brings the meeting to order. He knows heâs only delaying the inevitable, but he can force them to stay on topic for the hour so heâll do that.Â
You miss each other most of the day between meetings and such, and he meets you at your office door at exactly 5pm, leaning against the door frame. You grin at him, pulling on your coat. âHi,â you say, leaning up to kiss him.Â
He pulls you in for one more. âHi. Busy day?â
You sigh. âYeah, what about you? Didnât see you much.â
Seungcheol nods. âYeah, I know. I was booked most of the day. But they canât keep me here anymore,â he insists.Â
You giggle, before looking a little pensive. âAre you sure youâre okay with just going home today?â
Seungcheol nods automatically. âOf course. Iâm fine with a night in.â
âIf youâre sure,â you say, but a pout has settled on your lips that he just has to kiss.Â
âStop. Pouting is my job. But really, I donât mind. We can always go out another night.â
âIf you insist,â you sigh, leading him to the elevators.Â
Later that night, heâs got you curled up into his side. You both rarely sleep alone anymore. Itâs all too easy to just run to the otherâs apartment when it's time for bed, if you weren't together already. He debates on mentioning moving in together to save the money, but it feels too soon, so he bites his tongue.Â
âThank you for the night in,â you mumble sleepily. Heâs surprised because he thought you were asleep already, but he presses a kiss to your head.Â
âOf course, baby. Happy Valentineâs Day.âÂ
You donât say it back, but heâll forgive you because you really are asleep now. He whispers a little âI love youâ just for good measure.Â
#scoups#seungcheol#choi seungcheol#scoups x reader#seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol x reader#seventeen#svt#seventeen x reader#svt x reader
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Wow..i saw the leaks and just. Wow.
I was hoping they were fake and its everything i hate in a series. I was biting my tongue until i saw the episodes but here we are.
Before i go into spoilers i do want to say that i AM grateful that we even got anymore of Arcane, but sometimes less is more.
Spoilers underneath
Edit: these are kinda messy thoughts.
My biggest gripes:
Too many plot points for a finale
Family trade in ( Bio sister for found sister for bio sister again )
Vander dying, Alive but fucked up, okay, fucked up again, dead, alive but fucked up, dead.
Not bringing up Isha at all??? Not even a quick funeral?
People being brought back to life but Isha and Jinx has to die.
Jinx has to sacrifice herself to save Vi and herself. đ
The SEX scene.
Better explaination:
Too many Plot points:
I knew it was gonna be too many. I KNOW we needed answers/resolved plots, as well as needing things to make sense. But it.. was too much. Like most media at this point.
Family Trade In:
So... no one really talks about this trope? Or whatever you want to call it. But it bugs me, so much. If you don't know what I'm talking about..
To me a family trade in is when a Character, no matter their role, has family, turns evil or gets lost and finds a family of their own, and then when it seems perfect for them, they end up back with their original family because the new family died for them/their old family or they just.. don't belong/want to go.
Perfect example that isn't Arcane: Amphibia. Anne has to leave her adoptive found family from another universe and can never go back ( until she dies basically ). As well as her friends have to leave their found families as well and also cannot go back. Anne loves both her families..
And while i understand life isn't fair, and that people are allowed to not want to stay here or there.. it just bugs me the trope is to always trade back in for the old.
With Jinx, she "loses" Vi ( and yes Silco but it isn't about him right now ), And gets Isha. I KNEW the second i saw her she was gonna die ( this isn't a bash against those who didn't see it coming ( /genuine ) at some point. While i adore Isha and i am fine with Jinx adopting her, i am not okay with the writers choice of adding her just to kill her and be practically a trade in for Vi later on.
It sucks. I'll just say it out right.
And i want to be very clear. By trade in i do NOT mean replace. I know Isha was never a replacement for Vi ( or Powder ).
Again, i know life sucks, and you just don't get everything you want in this world, especially when it comes to war. But since this is a trope or at least a thing i see constantly, whether its in a pg way or an R rated way... its annoying.
Which brings me to....
People dying / Jinx / Vander:
Why? Other than shock value?
Jinx Dies, and it felts uncomfortable to me as a Psychotic/Schizospec person like her. She should have lived, she should have been able to find her own happiness after properly grieving Isha.
Isha Dies, happy to do so for her big sister(s), but like.. it ends up not being worth it. It both does and doesn't. She saved them time but then-
Vander. Vander is killed, then brought back to life in a fucked up way, then okay for awhile, then fucked up again, then dies ( by Isha ) and then is fucked up again and alive, and then dead.......... and then fucked up and alive again! And then dies, with Jinx!
It doesn't feel satisfying. Of course that one moment was very sweet and worth it. But oh my god? Why do it at all if you're just gonna kill and reanimate him again and again. Its not shocking its annoying by the third time and a joke by the fourth.
Viktor.. Same deal with him? And I'm not even clear if he is dead or just fucked off to space-time with Jayce, but still. It wasn't shocking anymore. Or thrilling. Just like "ah. Okay. Cool mask".
Heimerdinger... when i read the leaks i thought he was gonna die. Then i was watching and thought "oh no okay, he's gonna stay in that universe. Thats nice he deserves that". Nope. He's either also dead or also in space time. I just sighed really hard rather than be sad.
And finally.. The Doctor's daughter gets to live- AND HIMSELF- even he gets a happy ending? Over Jinx or Vi? What.. i mean yes Vi gets Caitlyn , but.. ? Ugh
The Sex scene:
I'm glad for Sapphic rep i really really am. I like Caitvi a lot as well. But this didn't feel comfortable for me. Not because it was an intimate moment, but because neither of them talked things out properly. On top of that it was really random.
Vi was upset, then suddenly horny for i guess.. make up or grief sex? Or both? And Cait was obviously fine with it, but then to suddenly try and talk about Maddie. I'm glad Vi wasn't the typical ">:( you fucked someone else while i was hurting?!" It was so... random. This is why they needed to talk before hand. At LEAST say it before getting into it.
And doing it in Jinx's cell? It feels so.. weird and wrong in a way? I don't know how to describe it.
TLDR: what in the five marvel hells was that other than visuals pretty
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STARRYSHARKS FAQ: 2!
this FAQ will go over some of the questions about my process that i get in my askbox. some disclaimers:
ANYONE who asks any questions that have been answered in either FAQ will be ignored.
PLEASE don't take this FAQ as gospel or assume that it's viable art advice. it is not. i am not a professional, i am a teenager who draws in her free time and therefore many of these answers will involve things that break common "laws" of art, logic, and anatomy. this is just how i personally go about my illustrations. please also don't take me or any individual artist as your sole inspiration, you will not get anywhere believe me. art is like a balanced diet. if you eat sweets all the time, you'll get sick - but if you only eat veggies and healthy food, you'll get bored. try to take inspiration from a vast range of artists, even those you don't think you'd really enjoy. and most importantly, LEARN THE FUNDEMENTALS OF ART!!!! even just a little bit of knowledge can go a long way, regardless of how simple or realistic you want your artstyle to be. refusing to learn fundamentals had my art looking janky for years.
ok enough waffle let's get started!
Q: HOW DO YOU DRAW FACES?
A: it depends.
there's lots of things you can do to a face to make it unique. the starting point is the facial features themselves - eyes, eyebrows, nose, mouth... if they're the same for every character with the only uniqueness being in eyecolor or something like that, you get same face syndrome.
so, take your characters and apply some diverse facial features. certain facial features have certain character connotations too. like downturned eyes implying a laid-back or tired character, or a 3-shaped mouth implying a catty character, something like that.
but, for me, facial diversity isn't enough. it's not like you go out and everyone has the same head shape. so, i tend to try and get creative with face shape, and depending on how thin or wide the shape is, you can move around the facial features too.
these examples are a little shitty but that's because i put them together in 10 minutes. you can see the effect in my actual characters, who have more effort put into them, and how no character looks alike.
other than that, i tend to try and give every character a different eye shape and pupil "type" - so while krankenstein and romèo might have simple black dot eyes, octavia and vivica have large multicolor anime esque eyes, onion has cartoony circle eyes, and so on. if you just switch things around enough, even characters with similar face shapes will look unique. and even if they don't, doppelgangers do exist in real life.
Q: HOW DO YOU DRAW HANDS?
A: once again it depends. some characters have regular shaped hands while some have really tiny hands that only have 3-4 fingers instead of 5. usually my larger characters will have smaller hands but that isn't always the case.
but for the standard hand, i tend to have a line between the palm/base and the fingers. and then i um...add the fingers i guessđ there's usually a lot of abstraction when it comes to hands for me, because i'm not the best at drawing them. usually either the last three fingers or the middle two will be connected as well depending on the pose.
Q: HOW DO YOU DRAW FURRIES?
A: i don't really know myself. i still don't know how to draw most furry species especially canines, god i hate canines!!! well not really, i can just never draw their snouts. really i draw furries like i would human, just with larger thighs and further back lower legs. and fur too. i like to exaggerate the nails too. and of course add fur, usually at the joints.
Q: HOW DO YOU DO LINEART?
A: i draw over the sketch. i do the sketch in thin, low opacity lineart, and go over it in varying thickness based on the perspective/desired look to get that comic book varied thickness look. the eraser will be your best friend more than the pen here, cuz there's a lot of cleaning up with both the sketch and the final lineart to have everything looking sharp.
Q: CAN YOU GIVE A STEP BY STEP GUIDE OF HOW TO DO YOUR STYLE?
A: no and i will never be able to. there is no formula to my style, i break every rule i make for myself. i barely follow any of the answers i write in these QNAs. they are not rules or steps but rather just me explaining my habits in art. i never have a checklist when i draw, i just do these things intuitively based on years of drawing. this might sound like some stuck up "it comes naturally" thing but trust me IT DOES NOT COME NATURALLY!!! these habits are born from over a decade of drawing. and besides, like i said before, with how varied i try to make my character designs any step by step would never be universal to my style. i'm really sorry but that's the truth. either way i hope this QNA helps.
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Well, I wanna be working on a novel right now, but apparently it's time to make a certain kind of post again, as is periodically necessary, because young queer folk keep trying to reinvent the Hayes Code for a variety of misguided reasons. So you know what? Let me lead with the TLDR, and then give my reasoning. If you DNI stuff like incest, I am not just going to unfollow you, I am going to block you.
Now, if you're the type to make assumptions, you might be surprised to hear that I'm not into incest. Sorry to disappoint. Well, unless you count selfcest, but people don't usually lump those together except by technicality. But incest is really not my thing.
That said, I have mutuals who are into it, and harmless about it. Whether it's fictional, RP, or consensual, it's not my business and it hurts nobody. Get used to those words, they're gonna be a mantra here. Further, I've seen how Hayes Queers (hey, I needed a term for them) talk about harmless members of their own community who give them The Ick. The post I'm writing here is a direct reaction to seeing a Hayes Queer post from someone I followed! Reading that, and the comments on it. And lemme tell you: y'all are very quick to throw your peers under the bus with the exact same logic (respectability politics, personal disgust, "making a bad name for us as a larger group", lurking threat to our moral purity) that the conservatives are using to argue for the mass extermination of queer folk. You are bringing pitchforks and tiki torches to the party. So no, I am not going to give you access to my vulnerable mutuals. That's the heart of it. You are a danger to your community, and I'm going to limit the scope of harm you can do. The broader queer/kink communities have worked hard to define harm more carefully than "well I just personally think it's gross." Scat and piss are gross to me, but my mutuals who are into those things do still deserve love and safety, not to be sacrificed on an altar of conservative family values for imaginary "one of the good ones" points. I have a responsibility to look out for my people. So do you, FYI.
So here's the recipe for living online with people whose kinks aren't your business and hurt nobody: learn to scroll past those posts or block those tags, or even block that person. Be an adult. The world does not exist to be personally palatable to you. You are not being harmed, you're being inconvenienced. If you can't handle that, you're the one bringing real-world (rather than imagined) danger to your community. Fuck's sake.
This also finally convinced me to look up what "proshipper" means after seeing it in discourse for years, these dreaded dangerous devils who apparently must be purged from the internet, and... holy fuck, how is this contentious? It literally just means you can disagree about fandom pairings without harassing people? That's just mature behavior in a shared space. That's what the argument is about? Oh my god. If you're arguing about this in 2024, your Aunt Maddie is fully ashamed of you for real.
The dumbest part is that people get doxxed for saying the stuff I'm saying, and maybe it'll happen to me. Guess I'll roll the dice. Which comes full circle: if you're looking at this post and trying to decide how to punish me for it IRL, you are literally being the danger. Stop and think for 30 milliseconds. Maybe I have a point that you are a bigger threat than two trans girls who like to pretend to be sisters for sex reasons. And I don't wanna hear no trauma excuses from any of you little monkeys, fetishes come from trauma a decent percentage of the time, so a lot of the people you're persecuting are victims of the same kind of assault as you.
This is more words than I ever should have to write about a self-evident topic. I know if you're young enough and still figuring out a lot of life stuff from scratch, it may not be self-evident to you. But hopefully it is now before you fucking hurt somebody. Thanks.
#discourse#i ain't fuckin' havin' it#life is too short to be shortening it for your vulnerable peers
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Day 53
Alright so Iâm gonna level with you.Â
I REALLY wanted to do a V3 based pic for this day. However at the time I couldnât for the life of me come up with an actual idea for it.
I think itâs because I was very tunnel visioned on specifically trying to do something with Junko Enoshima the 53rd, for very obvious reasons. This was back before I really had any opinions on Tsumugi, at that point the space she held in my brain was âUnique Antagonist that shows up semi-often in Junkan Fics.â
Which isnât like, the best way one could view the character I can imagine. Though she had it better than Yasuke at least I didnât even know who he was outside of occasionally appearing in these fics until like, somewhere in the first month of Project Production. Iâve never read DR0, someday though. someday.Â
Anyway back to Tsumugi, mostly thanks to the local bandit, Iâve come to appreciate the character a lot more. Iâm not like, an expert on the character. I'm still kind of feeling things out purely through osmosis, iâm not really an expert on nothing. However I like her a lot more than I used to, which means I have hindsight.
If I was making Day 53 right now I would probably just make some kind of art about Tsumugi being a Junkan Shipper. Weâve all given characters headcanon based on ourselves before, gender, sexuality, personal experiences, that weird clicking thing you can do with your thumb (or is that just me?), we love to impart aspects of ourselves onto these characters.Â
And when the hell else am I going to headcanon such a specific fuckinâ aspect of myself such as âI ship Junkanâ onto a character? Itâs Tsumugi or nothing.
Honestly Iâm not gonna guarantee but I might actually just make a pic based on what Iâm currently thinking for a Tsumugi Themed Junkan art, and just, posted the same day as this one? If I do iâll schedule it in advance to post like, an hour or two after this one. Enjoy the suspense of whether I actually did that or not!Â
Oh, and I actually edited this image a bit. Both because I thought Junko's face just looked, bad in this. But also for reasons I'm not gonna bother getting into right now. However as a result we got this funny bit during the editing process
What if Junko was creepypasta lol . . . . . . . oh
oh god DAMMIT WAIT I LIKE THIS. Now I can't draw it until this Day gets released! DAMMIT!
#danganronpa#junkan#junko enoshima#mikan tsumiki#tsumiki mikan#shipping#enoshima junko#junko x mikan#junkomikan#enomiki
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Ooooh, Arty! I'm so excited for this series (and your FBI one, which I'm hopping into next) đ You know I'm obsessed with those things đđ
Let's jump into it! đż
You were sitting in a bar, hoping that when the results of the final poll came you were drunk enough that youâd cheer and scream like a madwoman to counteract the inevitable news that youâd lose the 2014 presidential elections to your only eligible opponent, Amara Shurley.
I can see why she'd need a bodyguard. Girl, you can't be sitting in a bar as a presidential candidate. Please tell me Secret Service has eyes on this "madwoman" đ
Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected thereâd be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.
Yup đŻđŻđŻ Although, I don't think Shurley's up for the job... đ
Bella, your other, redhead best friend, sighed and smacked Steph upside her blonde head, earning a gasp at the potentially ruined heatless curls (no, they werenât ruined, sheâs just being dramatic).
Bella sounds like me đ Are we redheads all the same?
You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.
I love when authors add (funny) information in parentheses or strike words through! It adds so much comedy and is my favorite kind of writing style đ¤
That means you got⌠64% of the vote
Whoa! You can almost call that a landslide! đĽł
Suck it, Amara đ
You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.
Dude, she's winning in, like... life đ
But there's something missing... Ah yes! Who will be the First Gentleman? *coughs*
And please tell me the girls are moving with her into the White House. I'd die đđ
âIâm Becky Rosen, Iâll be your assistant.
Oh dear God, no... đ I had a feeling when she snuck up on me in this paragraph lmao
But is she okay? Why do I get the sense her eye bags don't come from being overworked? Is someone threatening her? Trying to gain access to Mme Pres. through her? I'm on alert! đ
Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didnât expect a dude in prison to put his file through.
That is a fair assumption đ
Only one dude would be this crazy to apply to the freaking White House as personal bodyguard to the freaking president đ
A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery
Jesus effing Christ...
I wonder what really went on there? Can't imagine Dean, even AU!Dean, to be this damn cold-blooded without a somewhat (we do forgive him a lot) sound reason
Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedomâthe smell of asphalt under the Impalaâs tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.
Chills! Literal chills! đ
âUnorthodox candidates,â he muttered, smirking. âGuess I qualify.â
Uhm, sweetie...? You feelin' good? đ
I love how his whole plan rides on "oh, I can get pardoned if I work for the president" 𤣠Dream big, I guess
Before my incarceration, I was highly skilled in tactical operations, surveillance, and neutralising high-level targets. My ability to assess danger and act decisively has been tested in some of the most dangerous environments.
That sounds almost like one Russell Shaw đ (Which makes sense, considering they're both the same person â thanks Jackles đ)
neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.
You did good, boo đđ
Feldman stared at him like heâd grown a second head. âYou realize this is insane, right? Youâre in here for life. Theyâre not going to let you out just because you can write a heartfelt letter.â
A realist, you might say đ
His lawyer might eat his own ass after he gets out đ¤Łđ¤Ł
âThe fuck is this?â You gestured to the heavy shackles on Deanâs wrists and ankles
I love her! She treats him like a human being already, and not like a murderous animal đ¤
Heâs not being a perv.
Mmm, I don't quite believe you, Mr. Winchester đ
âBut the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?â
Ah! And suddenly, it all becomes quite clear. Of course he did all this crazy shit for Sammy. And I bet Sammy, the prosecutor, just loves the fact that his brother is a hitman in prison đ
Youâre. Hired. He could die.
Arty, if this is foreshadowing, I will kill you. Hope you have your bodyguard ready đ
That whole reunion with Sam made me tear up for real đ That was so sweet and genuine!
âHeâs teething,â Eden said with a weary smile. âSo, you knowâŚliving the dream.â
Yes. Just been there last week again đ
Her family also seems so sweet. She needs a good support system with this job, and it seems like she has that đ¤
Dean Winchester strode into the room with the kind of presence that made people stop and take notice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a casual confidence that hinted at years of facing danger head-on. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored just enough to highlight his powerful frame but not so tight as to make him look polished or delicate. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted against his tanned skin, and his black tie was slightly loosened, as if heâd deliberately left it that way.
I died somewhere while reading this paragraph đĽđĽľđŤ
Steph scoffed, shaking her head. âGirl, no. Heâs better than that, he puts Adonis to shameâ whereâs he been hiding?â
I'm with Steph on this one. Ben Affleck? Ew.
And I have a feeling those walls aren't as thick as the girls believe they are đ
âSo heâs a bad boy.â Bella giggled
DECEASED đ¤Łđ¤Łđ¤Ł Bella should join the PR team!
That whole conversation has me rolling on the floor, girl đ There were so many gems here đ¤â¨
âHey, Iâm just calling it like I see it,â Sam said with a grin. âBesides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.â
Joking or not, I can't believe Sam's entertaining this idea and encouraging him to hit on the president (and his only ticket outta prison) đ
Wonderful first chapter, babe! đđđ So stoked to see where this goes, to have more wild girl chats, and more romantic as well as sexual tension! đđ
đđĄđđŞđŽđ đąđ˛đł 1
SUMMARY: Youâre the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?
TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, angst, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, slow/quick burn, yâall will have to figure that out
A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didnât win the 2024 elections, so I give you what couldâve been
NOW PLAYING: Power by Little Mix
office fever
God, the wait was killing you.
You were sitting in a bar, hoping that when the results of the final poll came you were drunk enough that youâd cheer and scream like a madwoman to counteract the inevitable news that youâd lose the 2014 presidential elections to your only eligible opponent, Amara Shurley. Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected thereâd be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.
âCome on, babes, cheer up!â Stephanie, one of your two best friends, drawled, checking her manicured nails while absent-mindedly sipping on a Long Island Iced Tea like it was merely water, but that was Steph OâDonnell for you, plain and simple. Eh, she was a bit nails-obsessed, but you loved her anyway for it, she did always look immaculate.
Bella, your other, redhead best friend, sighed and smacked Steph upside her blonde head, earning a gasp at the potentially ruined heatless curls (no, they werenât ruined, sheâs just being dramatic). âMaybe you just need to get less alcohol in your system.â She said pointedly, plucking the vodka shot out of your fingers.
âBels, if anything, she needs more.â Steph pointed out after checking if her hair wasnât frizzed up in a pocket mirror. âIf she wins, it just means sheâs capable of partying harder.â
Bella sighed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a small laugh, tsking internally at the notion. âShe needs to remain sober for when she gets the results, and sheâs going to win.â Bella turned to you with a sparkling smile and took your hand, squeezing it. âWeâre here for you, girl. Sure, itâs totally possible that the Amara Shurley woman could win the election â sheâs older â but if the countryâs not stupid, then youâll be the next POTUS.â
âIâm not sure whether to feel better or worse.â You playfully rolled your eyes, but let the vodka shot go and gestured to the bartender with a resigned sigh. Yeah, you could go without alcohol for tonight. âBut ok. One mocktail, and surprise me with it. Cheers.â You looked to Bella with raised eyebrows, tipping your head slightly. âSo, what if I lose the election?â
Bella tutted, and Steph looked up from her nails in shockâ damn, thatâs how you knew you were in deep shit. âBaby girl, you better get that thinking out of your head right now.â Steph gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in shock. âYou are an icon for a feminist nationâ a non-toxic feminist nation. If people donât vote for you, Iâm gonna kill those who didnât, those who did can live.â
âDonât do that.â
âIâll do it.â
âSteph, noââ
âYesââ
A loud squeal from Bella distracted both of you and almost made Steph spill the Cosmo that matched her nails and also made her shoot a you bitch look that she really didnât mean, but then Bella started flapping her hands and making squealing and unintelligible, Brittany from Alvin and the Chipmunk-esque sounds that made you and Steph share a look. âYou ok, Bels?â You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.
âAre you having a stroke?â Steph continued, checking for any signs of maybe a heart attack or an ice cube lodged down her throat so her speech becomes little whistles.
âDo you smell toast?â You waved a hand in front of your nose, but then her phone was shoved in front of your face so the screen and everything went blurry, not to mention the sting of the light on your eyesâ shit, that burned until your retinas. Grabbing the phone from her, you held it at a distance and squinted (âgrandmaâ, said Steph) but then saw the headline.
2014 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS, FINAL POLL RESULTS
Then you scrolled down, with bated breath and clutching Bellaâs hand like you wanted to rip it off, and you took a shaky look at the numbers.
AMARA SHURLEY â 36%
That means you got⌠64% of the vote, now that you did the math. Holy shit. âHoly shit!â You gasped, letting out a Bella-reminiscent squeal just as Steph did, and you were smothered by two heavily-perfumed hugs, the wind knocked out of you, but did that matter? No.
You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.
Holy fuck, holy shit, holy crap. This was the most beautiful day of your life, beside the day you met Bella and Steph, that day was important. âYouâre POTUS.â Steph grinned, waving for, like, six whiskeys for all of you to down.
âYouâre POTUS, baby girl.â Bella giggled, squeezing your shoulders and then spinning around on her bar stool, pointing obviously to you and yelling âPOTUS!â, earning a round of cheers and applause from the patrons that made you bury your face in your hands.
But you did it with a grin. You were the President.
Honestly, being the President was exhilarating, cause that meant you got to make real change, it was incredible. Your new security team had fended off the paparazzi from smothering you Bella and Steph style except more annoying as you were escorted into the White House, a woman only a little younger than you waiting with an eager grin and a clipboard hugged to her chest.
âWelcome to the White House, Madam President.â She grinned, holding out her hand nervously then retracting itâ she didnât know what new bosses wanted, alright? âIâm Becky Rosen, Iâll be your assistant. Anything you need, Iâll handle it. Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, a martiniâ if you want a martini Iâll have the barman get one ready and waiting for you in the Oval OfficeâŚâ
During that time sheâd been rambling youâd examined Becky, getting a feel for what she was like. Thank God your assistant was a woman also and she seemed like good fun, lively spirit, definitely someone who wonât make your schedule sound boring. But she looked overworked and tired, maybe from the last presidentâ thatâd be Raphael Easton, right? Yeah.
âTwo things,â you started as you were walking through the halls to the Oval Office, âdo you have the files for personal bodyguard applicants that I can cycle through before making official speeches?â
âTheyâre all on your desk, maâam.â Becky answered almost immediatelyâ damn, she was rather eager, and happy with her job, clearly, but also had dark circles and eye bags that made something twinge in you. It didnât sit right.
You nodded, then gave her a warm smile, gently taking the clipboard. âHow âbout you take the day off, yeah? Itâs only my first day, I donât need anything yet, and I can get the applicants fromâŚâ You looked through the labels on the file: FBI, CIA, private agencies, ADX Supermaxâ ADX Supermax?
âWhatâs wrong, maâam?â Becky asked, seeing the way your words trailed off upon seeing the file amid all the other incredibly professional outlets for protection, an applicant from the ADX. Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didnât expect a dude in prison to put his file through.
Oh. Upon opening it, it was just a letter.
You looked up to Becky, biting your lip in thought, cause if this guyâs in the Supermax, heâs prolific.
âDo I have a direct line to the director of the FBI?â
ADX Florence was a fortress, a high-tech prison designed to keep Americaâs most dangerous criminals sealed away from the world. It wasnât a place where hope grew. Dean Winchester, prisoner 11347-7, wasnât the kind of guy to expect hope anyway. A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery, he had resigned himself to spending the rest of his days in this tomb of concrete and steel.
It wasnât regret that gnawed at him in the sterile silence of his cell. Regret wasnât his style. Heâd made his choices, taken his hits, and lived by the only code he knew: survival. But that didnât mean he liked being locked away. Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedomâthe smell of asphalt under the Impalaâs tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.
Now, his days were measured in three meals delivered through a slot and the endless monotony of isolation. Until that morning in 2008 when the guard, a surly guy Dean called Mustache, slid a newspaper into his cell along with the breakfast tray.
Dean didnât read newspapers often. What was the point? The world moved on without him. But that day, boredom got the better of him. He skimmed headlines about wars, scandals, and the economyâs nosedive. Nothing he hadnât expected. Then his eyes landed on something that made him sit up straighter on the cot.
âWanted: Elite Personal Security for First Female President. Apply Now.â
The ad stood out like a neon sign in a desert. Beneath the bold letters was a glossy image of the President standing in front of the White House, flanked by Secret Service agents. The text outlined the need for a personal bodyguardâsomeone with impeccable skills, discretion, and a willingness to take a bullet if necessary. Experience required. Unorthodox candidates welcome.
Dean read it twice, then a third time, the words stirring something he hadnât felt in years. It wasnât quite hope, but it was close.
ADX Supermax wasnât the kind of place where people left easily. But this adâŚthis ad was a door, cracked open just wide enough for someone like him to slip through.
âUnorthodox candidates,â he muttered, smirking. âGuess I qualify.â
By lunchtime, Dean had a plan. It wasnât perfectânothing he did ever wasâbut it was a shot, and that was more than he usually got in this place.
He spent hours staring at the blank sheet of paper heâd salvaged from a previous legal memo. Writing wasnât his strong suit. Hell, if heâd been good at words, maybe he wouldnât have ended up in the killing business in the first place. But this wasnât about flowery language. It was about convincing someone that a convicted hitman could be trusted with the life of the most powerful person in the country.
Dean leaned over the small desk bolted to the wall of his cell, chewing the end of his pen as he started to scribble.
To Madam President,
I am writing to express my interest in the position of personal security for the President. I realize my application may raise questions, given my current circumstances, but I ask for your consideration based on my unique qualifications.
Before my incarceration, I was highly skilled in tactical operations, surveillance, and neutralising high-level targets. My ability to assess danger and act decisively has been tested in some of the most dangerous environments.
Though I am serving time for my past actions, I believe in redemption. This position represents an opportunity for me to use my skills for a greater purpose. I have spent my years here reflecting on my choices, and I am prepared to dedicate my life to protecting someone who stands for hope and progress in this country.
Thank you for your time and consideration. I am available for an interview at your convenience.
Sincerely, Dean Winchester
He read over the letter a dozen times, making minor adjustments. It was rough, sure, but it was honest. And honesty was something he didnât traffic in often, neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.
By the time he was done, his hand ached, and the paper was smudged from his grip. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his jumpsuit.
The next step was trickier.
Deanâs lawyer, a wiry man named Feldman whoâd been paid off by some shadowy client years ago to keep an eye on him, didnât usually show up unless Dean demanded it. This time, Dean played the card of âurgent legal matter.�� When Feldman arrived, looking mildly annoyed but curious, Dean slid the letter across the table during their monitored meeting.
âYou want me toâŚsubmit this?â Feldman asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dean nodded. âStraight to the Presidentâs office. No detours, no âIâll get to it later.â This is priority one.â
Feldman stared at him like heâd grown a second head. âYou realize this is insane, right? Youâre in here for life. Theyâre not going to let you out just because you can write a heartfelt letter.â
âThey might if theyâre desperate enough,â Dean countered. âAnd that ad says theyâre looking for someone who can do the job, not someone who looks good on paper. I can do the job.â
Feldman sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. âAnd if I say no?â
Deanâs smile didnât reach his eyes. âYou wonât. You owe me.â
Feldman muttered something under his breath but pocketed the letter. âYouâre lucky I like long shots.â
Weeks passed. Dean didnât hear anything, and for a while, he wondered if Feldman had tossed the letter in the nearest trash can. But then, one morning, Mustache appeared at his cell with an unreadable expression.
âYouâve got a visitor,â he said gruffly.
Dean frowned. âWho?â
âDidnât say. Get up.â
Visitors were rare, especially unannounced ones. Dean followed Mustache down the cold, narrow corridors, his curiosity growing. When he reached the visitor room, his breath caught.
The woman sitting on the other side of the plexiglass partition was dressed in a crisp suit, her posture radiating authority. She wasnât Feldman, and she definitely wasnât a typical visitor.
Dean picked up the phone on his side of the glass.
âMr. Winchester,â she said, her voice calm but firm. âIâm here on behalf of the President.â
He leaned back in his chair, smirking. âGuess you got my letter.â
Her expression didnât change. âWe did. It wasâŚunconventional.â
âThatâs me in a nutshell.â
She glanced at a folder on the table in front of her. âYour record is extensive. Multiple charges of murder-for-hire, conspiracy, weapons traffickingâŚâ She looked up, her sharp eyes locking onto his. âWhy should we trust you?â
Dean leaned forward, his tone serious. âBecause I know what Iâm doing. You want someone whoâll lay down their life for the President? Someone whoâll see the threats before anyone else does? Thatâs me. Iâve been on both sides of this game. I know how killers think because Iâve been one. And if you give me this chance, Iâll prove that Iâm more than whatâs in that file.â
The woman studied him for a long moment before standing. âWeâll be in touch.â
Dean hung up the phone, watching her leave with a mixture of hope and disbelief. For the first time in years, it felt like the world outside ADX Supermax wasnât as far away as it seemed.
Youâd been running interviews for a bodyguard for about a week now, and youâd only started them once Becky had gotten a good rest, as well as the rest of the staff at the White House so they could spend good time with their families. First few weeks of presidency were busy ones, so you wanted your employees to have some time for themselves before anything happened.
Nobody seemed suitable to you, even though youâd been presented with the best FBI, CIA and private outletâs security detail they had, theyâd each and all failed your every attempt to make them seem credible, you didnât want anyone like that. Tabloids had already gotten to smearing your name regarding this, but you were more concerned with your final applicant.
Dean Winchester.
Youâd asked the FBI to send over every file they had on him, and the list was â you hated to say it â extensive. Many assassinations of high and low-level targets, and he was credited with over 100 assassinations in the past two yearsâ you had your doubts about this guy, the director of the FBI had said he was in there for a reason.
Youâd find out if he was unhinged, or just a normal man.
Well, Dean had been escorted as covertly as possible with a bunch of military and secret service agents, which didnât make sense as his hands were shackled to his feet. The only way heâd be getting out of these chains was if he was a magician, and he wasnât, just incredibly good at marksmanship and fighting, thank John for that.
âAlright, alright.â He scoffed, almost tripping out of the car as he was practically shoved up the steps by the agents by his head. âIâm moving, Iâm moving, Jesus fuck, you ladies are uptight.â He got to the door of the White House, and holy shit, he was really here. He got let in, hearing a Secret Service agent blabbing in his ear.
âAny funny business, 353, and weâre sending you straight back. Youâre gonna address Madam President with respect, no cheekââ Ugh, the sound of his voice was grating, but all Dean could do was let out a terse nod as he was led to the door of the Oval Office and led inside. He stepped in, glaring at the service agent who had been yapping about decorum. Then, suddenlyâ
âOi! Hey, hey!â A womanâs voice snapped, and he looked up from his shackles to see you, and boy, were you young for a president. You had to be his age, right? Yeah, and you were surprisingly gorgeous for a POTUS, but the way youâd stood up with a loud chair screech from your desk, snapped your fingers and pointing at Deanâs shackles with a livid expression, he knew the agents were in deep shit.
âThe fuck is this?â You gestured to the heavy shackles on Deanâs wrists and anklesâ they were quite heavy and uncomfortable, now that he paid attention to it, but he was more focused on how much of a little Spitfire you were. Young, but you were snapping at these middle-aged men as if they were 5 year old children. âYou might as well put a chain around his neck, for Godâs sakeâ whichever of you has the key, take those things off and leave my office, if he kills me, fine, just have Amara take my place, sheâll do a damn good job as well.â
The service agents stood there, stunned, and then a stern look from you â âDamn,â Dean muttered â got the agent next to Dean to shove the key in the lock to his wrists and ankles, letting the chains fall free, and they were promptly carried out. You sighed, returning to your desk, running a hand through your hair.
âI am so sorry about that, Mr Winchester, Iâve just always found those chains really inhumane.â You rushed the sentence, gesturing to your desk in front of you and sipping your coffee to calm down. Honestly, not your best option, it probably made you more jittery.
Dean didnât argue, he didnât want to get scolded, just made his way to the desk, grey jumpsuit â he was in protective custody in prison â rustling with every step until he sat down on the irresistibly comfy chair, cause wow, prison chairs were hard and low standard.
His ass felt like it was in heaven right now.
âNo problem, maâam, I see the point. Not exactly the cleanest slate.â He didnât think it was wise to make a joke of how heâd assassinated people for hire, but it made you laugh, so maybe that was good going. Who knows? âAnd call me Dean.â
âI see that.â You smiled, then gestured to Dean with a warm smile, not something he was used to unless it was the smiles of his mom that he barely remembered. Otherwise it was either hungry, lustful smiles of desperate women and cunning smiles of ruthless businessmen and mafia bosses. âSo, Dean, before we get started, would you like anything? Tea, coffee, water, beer, whiskeyâ one candidate asked for straight vodka. Heâs not getting the job.â Damn. The new POTUS was cool.
âWater would be great.â Dean would have a drop of whiskey, but he wanted to make a good impression and hydrate himself with something other than low-quality prison water. So, when you passed him the water, he downed the tall glass in three gulps, but then paused when he saw you watching.
Then he swallowed. Shit.
But you werenât judging him, you seemed understanding, that yes, prison water probably tasted like rat piss, so he finished the rest of the glass and wiped his hand with the back of his mouth. âSorry.â
âNo need to apologise. Prison must be really rough, treat yourself.â You waved him off, shaking your head, then peered through his file. Rather interesting family background, how did he turn out that way? âSays here that your fatherâs a Marine Corporal veteran, thanks for his service, and your brotherâs a prosecution lawyer that graduated from Stanford Law. Impressive.â You looked up at him, thumb playing with the ring on your middle finger, eyes focused on the paper.
Dean couldnât help but note that you were beautiful. Not objectively, just factually beautiful. Heâs not being a perv.
âMy brotherâs a nerd.â Dean stated with a smile as you talked about his family, he didnât blame them, he wasnât a bookworm, he wasnât as smart as his little brother in that aspect, Sam was all about studying and being the good kid.
"Yeah, my brother used to say I was a nerd, now look at me." You chuckled, then nodded in acknowledgement. "You, however, you graduated just on the mark, no honours, didn't go to college and transactions show you started as a hitman when you were 20." You paused for a second, cause that was what you couldnât put your finger on. "But the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?"
Dean knew he was gonna be interrogated by the new President, thatâs a given, and he made sure to prepare himself for the whole psychological evaluation of himself. His expression remained unreadable, only slightly surprised by how quickly you put together that heâd been paying for his brotherâs college.
âHeâs family. Sammyâs a good kid, he deserves to get away from this life.â Dean answered, it was a simple answer. It didnât really dig deep into his past or his true relationships with his family.
Well, all you had to know was that his dad was paranoid after returning from deployment and taught him how to shoot like James fucking Bond and Sammy too, but Sam had left for college while Dean had nothing he could do for himself.
"Mhm." You hummed, looking through the rest of it. "Now my guys are finding that in the years since your brother left college, money you've earned from assassinations ordered by high level clients â that are now behind bars â has been wired to a rehab centre down in Delaware. I looked into it, and I found out your father's staying there. None of that money's going to you." Your voice wasn't judging. You instead sounded understanding.
The only reason why Dean wasnât surprised or shocked by the fact that you knew this was the fact that you were the President. He shouldâve guessed. He smiled slightly as you remained understanding about the whole situation though, most other politicians wouldâve seen this as a chance to blackmail and threaten him.
âYeah, my dadâs got severe PTSD. Itâs the only good one nearby.â He explained as he crossed his arms. It would be hard to find a rehab centre that accepted his dad given the whole violent record he had.
You couldnât help but feel sympathy at that. Deanâs juvenile record wasnât the cleanest, so no shops wouldâve hired him so he could make that money, only black ops would. It was strange, and youâd be under fire by the media if you voiced it, but you saw his struggle. âYou did it for your family.â You were surprised at how softly you said that.
âFamily donât end in blood, maâam.â Dean replied, honestly, and you were hit where it hurt by that statement. You were expecting a cold-hearted killer, not a man trying to do right by his post-traumatic father and little brother. âNot if Iâm still breathinâ. Sammyâs got a good life, a wife, by what Iâve heard. Donât wanna burden him with all that shit, a-and I havenât talked to him in a few years. My boy.â He cleared his throat to not get too emotional.
You had to do that too, just to be clear.
âIâm sorry.â But that wouldnât just fix everything, so you took a moment to let that hang in order to give him some time. âOnly important question Iâm gonna ask. Hypothetically, weâre under fire at one of my events. Youâve gotten me to safety, and I give you the order to do the same for civilians. Do you do it?â
Dean took in the question, eyebrow raised slightly as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he studied you. That was a odd but interesting question. This was a job interview for real, it seems.
But this answer was simple.
âCivilians. Iâd get the innocents out first.â He said, there wasnât even a hint of hesitation in his voice. Civilians, innocent people will always come first before anything and anyone. Heâd made sure when performing hits that no civilians, women, fathers, men, mothers, childrenâ were safely out of the way before taking a shot. If they werenât, he refused. He wasnât risking it.
He was expecting you to refuse him on the spot, but instead two words came out that almost made him go âholy shitâ.
âYouâre hired.â
Youâre. Hired. He could die.
âI-Iâm sorry, Madam President, Iâm what?â He practically gasped, hands clutching the arms of his seat, watching you take out some already prepared parole papers and walking to the door in your heels, handing the file to one of the service agents.
âHired.â You said simply, a shrug and a smile offered as you walked to the desk. Fucking hell, Dean had never seen a stranger president in his life. âYour parole is being passed effective immediately, and I wanna get you in touch with my stylist and wardrobe guy so we can get you some new and frankly more comfortable clothes. Youâll be staying here, at the White House, youâll have full access to my staff for anything you might need, but most importantly, you need to call your family.â You tapped your landline that you had prepared on the desk with a small, encouraging smile. âI have Samâs number and the rehab centreâs number both in your directory file, Iâll give you some time to talk rather than waiting like a creep.â
As you walked out, Dean couldnât believe his ears. He was now the Presidentâs bodyguard, he got to live in luxury, no doubt there was a large paycheck and he got to call Sammy again. His Sammy, oh, holy shit.
His hand shook as he reached for the landline, opening the file and there it was, Samâs number, and itâd changed since he got put in prison a good six months ago. His fingers fumbled, clumsily dialling the number and waiting a moment as the dial tone stopped and the ringing shook his eardrum. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up, please pick upâ
âHello?â Deanâs heart broke upon hearing Samâs voice again, and he took a shaky breath. Get a grip, Winchester, itâs only your little brother, the man you raised your while life.
âBitch.â His voice sounded like heâd smoked cigarettes, and heâd quit that habit after high school, but all he could hear was the dead silence of realisation on the other side.
âJerk.â
The motorcade pulled up to the white-brick colonial house just as the late afternoon sun began to dip behind the row of oaks lining the driveway. You leaned back in your seat, letting out a breath you didnât realize you were holding. For months now, your life had been a whirlwind of campaign rallies, debates, and sleepless nights in cramped hotels. It all felt surreal. You were the President of the United States. Yet, somehow, coming home to this houseâthe one youâd grown up inâwas what made it all feel real.
Secret Service agents stepped out first, scanning the quiet suburban neighborhood for threats. You glanced out the tinted window, catching a glimpse of the familiar front porch where your father had painted the railing a deep blue years ago. The door creaked open, and a small figure darted out onto the lawn before anyone could stop him.
âAustin!â
The call came from Eden, your sister-in-law, who appeared a moment later, balancing baby Wyatt on her hip. She looked harried but happy, waving at you from the porch. Austin, however, was already halfway to the car, his untied sneakers slapping against the pavement.
You smiled despite yourself. Rolling down the window, you called out, âHold on, buddy, let them do their job.â
The boy skidded to a stop as one of the agents gently but firmly intercepted him, patting him on the shoulder and guiding him back toward the porch. Austin complied, but his excitement was evident in every bouncing step.
By the time you exited the car, your father, Mark, was standing on the porch steps, arms crossed but with a wide grin splitting his face. âThere she is,â he said, his voice booming with pride. âMadame President.â
You felt your cheeks flush as you climbed the steps. âDad, donât start.â
âOh, Iâll start, alright,â he said, pulling you into a tight hug. âMy daughter, the leader of the free world! Theyâre gonna need to expand that Oval Office just to fit my pride.â
âMark, give her some room to breathe,â your mother, Odette, chided as she stepped outside. She was smaller than you remembered, her hair streaked with more gray than the last time youâd seen her. But her smile was as warm as ever. She held her arms open, and you leaned into her familiar embrace, the scent of lavender and vanilla washing over you.
âItâs good to see you, Mom,â you murmured.
âWeâre so proud of you,â she said softly, pulling back to study your face. âBut I bet youâre exhausted.â
You nodded, glancing over her shoulder to see your older brother Ryan descending the stairs, a grin on his face. âWell, well, look who decided to come back down to earth,â he teased, reaching out to clap you on the shoulder.
âSomeoneâs gotta keep you grounded,â you shot back, the familiar rhythm of sibling banter falling into place as though no time had passed.
Eden appeared beside him, Wyatt still on her hip. She offered you a smile, and you leaned in to kiss her cheek. âHowâs this little guy doing?â you asked, reaching out to tickle Wyattâs chin. The baby let out a squeal of laughter, his chubby arms flailing.
âHeâs teething,â Eden said with a weary smile. âSo, you knowâŚliving the dream.â
Austin, who had been hovering impatiently at the edge of the group, finally couldnât contain himself. âAuntie!â he shouted, throwing his arms around your waist.
âHey, kiddo,â you said, ruffling his hair. âWhatâs new?â
âI got an A on my science project!â he said, looking up at you with bright eyes.
âThatâs great!â you said. âWhat was the project?â
âVolcanoes,â he said, puffing out his chest. âDad helped me with the lava.â
Ryan coughed. âHelped is a strong word. He mostly just told me what to do.â
âThatâs because you were doing it wrong!â Austin protested, and the group dissolved into laughter.
Inside, the house was exactly as you remembered it. The worn hardwood floors creaked under your feet, and the faint scent of your motherâs cooking lingered in the air. The walls were covered with family photosâsome old, some newâincluding one of you on election night, surrounded by your team, your face frozen in an expression of shock and joy.
Dinner was already laid out on the long wooden table in the dining room. A roast chicken sat in the center, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, and your motherâs famous macaroni casserole. It was a far cry from the catered meals youâd been eating on the campaign trail, and your stomach growled in anticipation.
âLetâs eat before it gets cold,â Odette said, ushering everyone to their seats.
You took your usual spot, sandwiched between Austin and your father, while Ryan carved the chicken. Plates were passed around, and soon the room was filled with the clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation.
Mark raised his glass of water. âA toast,â he said, his voice cutting through the din. âTo my daughter. The first woman to sit in the Oval Office. Youâve made us all so proud.â
âHere, here!â Ryan chimed in, lifting his own glass.
You felt a lump rise in your throat as you clinked glasses with everyone around the table. For a moment, the weight of your responsibilities seemed to lift, replaced by the simple joy of being surrounded by the people who had always believed in you.
After dinner, you helped your mother clear the table, despite her protests. âYouâre the President now,â she said, swatting your hands away from the plates. âYou donât need to be doing dishes.â
âMaybe not,â you said, grinning. âBut I donât think Iâve outgrown being your daughter.â
She relented, shaking her head with a fond smile, and the two of you worked side by side in comfortable silence. When the last dish was put away, you found yourself drawn to the living room, where the rest of the family had gathered.
Ryan was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a photo album with Austin perched beside him. Eden sat in the armchair, rocking Wyatt to sleep, while Mark stood by the fireplace, nursing a cup of coffee.
You sank into the armchair opposite Eden, your eyes drawn to the flickering flames in the hearth. âIt feels good to be home,â you said softly.
Mark looked over at you, his expression thoughtful. âYouâve got a hell of a road ahead of you, kid,â he said. âBut donât forgetâyouâve got us. Weâre here for you, no matter what.â
You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in your chest. âI know,â you said. âAnd Iâm going to need that. All of it.â
Ryan looked up from the photo album, a mischievous glint in his eye. âThink weâll get to visit the White House? Austinâs dying to see the bowling alley.â
Austinâs head snapped up. âThereâs a bowling alley?â
You laughed. âThere is. And yeah, youâll all come visit. But I canât promise Iâll have much time for bowling.â
âWhy not?â Austin asked, his brow furrowing. âYouâre the President. Canât you justâŚmake time?â
The simplicity of his question made you smile. âItâs a little more complicated than that, buddy,â you said. âBut Iâll do my best.â
Later that night, after the house had quieted and everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself standing in the backyard. The air was crisp and cool, and the stars above were brighter than you remembered. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the enormity of your new role settle over you like a heavy cloak.
The back door creaked open, and Mark stepped outside, a blanket draped over his shoulders. He joined you on the porch, handing you a steaming mug of tea.
âCouldnât sleep?â he asked.
You shook your head. âToo much on my mind.â
Mark nodded, staring out at the dark yard. âItâs a big job,â he said. âBut if anyone can handle it, itâs you.â
âI hope so,â you said quietly.
He placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. âYouâve got what it takes,â he said. âAnd youâve got us. Donât forget that.â
You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. âThanks, Dad.â
He smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. âCome on,â he said, gesturing toward the house. âYouâve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Letâs get some sleep.â
As you followed him inside, you felt a sense of peace you hadnât felt in months. No matter how hard the road ahead might be, you knew you wouldnât be walking it alone.
The Oval Office was as grand as youâd imaginedâperhaps even more so. Its high, curved ceilings and rich, historic decor exuded authority, yet the warmth of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the tall windows softened the edges, giving the room an almost serene quality.
You sat at the Resolute Desk, a stack of documents waiting for your signature. Each one bore the weight of history. Education reforms. Trade agreements. Environmental policies. Every flick of your pen carried consequences that rippled far beyond the iconic walls of this room.
Across the room, Becky, your ever-efficient assistant, was perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, tablet in hand. âAfter this meeting with the education committee, youâve got a fifteen-minute break before the press briefing,â she said, scrolling rapidly through the dayâs schedule. âThen at three, thereâs the Cabinet discussion on infrastructure. And donât forget the call with the German Chancellor at four.â
âGot it,â you replied, signing your name with a practiced flourish. âAnything else?â
Becky hesitated, glancing at her screen. âOh, and your new personal bodyguard will be arriving shortly. Dean Winchester.â
You kept your expression neutral, though youâd been briefed extensively on this particular appointment. A former hitman, Deanâs resume wasnât exactly typical for someone tasked with protecting the President. But his unconventional backgroundâand the skillset that came with itâwas exactly why heâd been chosen.
âRight,â you said, setting your pen down. âIâve read his file. Has he been through security clearance?â
âThoroughly vetted,â Becky assured you. âAnd cleared. He should be here any moment.â
You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face. âLetâs hope he lives up to the hype.â
Just as Becky opened her mouth to reply, the door opened.
You looked up, and the words you were about to say caught in your throat.
Dean Winchester strode into the room with the kind of presence that made people stop and take notice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a casual confidence that hinted at years of facing danger head-on. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored just enough to highlight his powerful frame but not so tight as to make him look polished or delicate. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted against his tanned skin, and his black tie was slightly loosened, as if heâd deliberately left it that way.
Despite the formal attire, there was an undeniable ruggedness about him. His short, tousled hair was just slightly too messy to be regulation, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw added an edge that no amount of tailoring could hide. His green eyes, sharp and assessing, swept the room before landing on you.
You found yourself momentarily distracted by the way the suit accentuated his broad chest and tapered waist. It was a rare thing for someone to wear something so formal yet exude the kind of raw, unrefined masculinity that Dean seemed to embody.
âMadame President,â he said, his voice low and gravelly as he stopped a respectful distance from your desk.
You forced yourself to refocus, clearing your throat as you rose from your seat. âMr. Winchester.â You allowed yourself a small smile, noting the way his gaze remained steady but professional. âYou clean up well.â
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. âThanks. I aim to please.â
Becky glanced between the two of you before standing. âIâll step out and make sure everythingâs ready for the committee meeting,â she said, gathering her tablet.
âThanks, Becky,â you said, watching her leave before turning back to Dean.
For a moment, the room felt smaller. His presence was magnetic, and you couldnât help but take him in once more, your gaze lingering on the way his shoulders filled out the suit jacket, the way his long fingers rested casually at his sides, the way they gripped his chair as he sat down. You snapped your attention back to his face before he could notice.
Dean leaned back slightly in the chair, taking in the sight of you as you scanned your schedule on the tablet in front of you. The soft lighting of the Oval Office seemed to highlight the sharp lines of your features, and the way you carried yourselfâconfident, composed, entirely in commandâstruck him in a way he hadnât expected.
Heâd done his research, of course. He knew your career milestones, your policies, even a few of your personal quirks. But seeing you in person was different. The photographs didnât do you justice.
As you spoke, your voice clear and firm, Dean found himself watching the curve of your lips, the subtle tilt of your head when you emphasized a point. You had a presence that filled the room, a quiet strength that made it impossible to look away.
âYour main job,â you were saying, âis to ensure my safety, both here and when I travel. Youâll coordinate with the Secret Service, but your focus will be on close-range protection. Youâll accompany me to all public appearances, meetings, and events.â
Dean nodded, forcing himself to focus on your words rather than the way your blouse fit perfectly beneath your blazer. âUnderstood. Anything specific I should know about your routine?â
You looked up, meeting his gaze. âIt varies. I keep a tight schedule, but unexpected situations come up all the time. Youâll need to be adaptable.â
âIâm good at that,â Dean said, his tone confident but not cocky.
âGood.â You swiped at the tablet, then set it down on the desk. âIâve read your file. Your skillset isâŚimpressive.â
He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. âThatâs one way to put it.â
You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a wry smile. âIâd call it unconventional, but that seems to be exactly what I need.â
Deanâs gaze flicked over you again, this time lingering on the curve of your jawline, the way your fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the desk. Heâd worked with plenty of high-profile people before, but you were in a league of your own.
âAnything else I should be aware of?â he asked, his voice low.
You tilted your head, considering him for a moment. âYouâre going to see me at my best and my worst,â you said plainly. âLong hours, high stress, bad days, good days. It comes with the territory.â
Dean nodded. âIâm here to do my job, maâam. Whatever it takes.â
Something in his tone made you pause, your gaze sharpening as you studied him. âYouâve been in worse situations, havenât you?â
âLetâs just say Iâm no stranger to high stakes,â he replied, his smirk returning.
You leaned back in your chair, satisfied. âGood. Iâll need someone who can keep a cool head under pressure. And someone who doesnât mind telling me the hard truth when I need to hear it.â
Deanâs smirk widened slightly. âI can handle that.â
The conversation shifted to logisticsâyour upcoming travel schedule, security protocols, and daily routines. Dean asked a few questions, his tone professional, but you couldnât shake the feeling that he was studying you as much as he was listening.
If you noticed the way his eyes dipped to your collarbone when you leaned forward to make a point, or how his gaze lingered on the curve of your wrist as you gestured, you didnât let on. You were focused, deliberate, every bit the commander-in-chief heâd expected.
When the meeting wrapped up, you stood and extended a hand again. âWelcome aboard, Dean. I look forward to working with you.â
Dean rose, his hand engulfing yours once more. âThe pleasureâs mine, maâam.â
As he turned to leave, you called after him, âAnd Dean?â
He paused, glancing over his shoulder.
âYou really do look good in that suit.â
He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Alone again, you returned to your desk, your mind already shifting to the next task. But for a moment, you allowed yourself a small smile.
It was going to be an interesting partnership.
âOk, excuse me?â Bella had practically squealed when the door to your bedroom behind you, her and Steph had been shut by Dean, who was now waiting outside to give you some privacy, and thank God those walls were thick enough to hide this conversation. âYou didnât tell us your bodyguard was a Ben Affleck and Brad Pitt combo.â
Steph scoffed, shaking her head. âGirl, no. Heâs better than that, he puts Adonis to shameâ whereâs he been hiding?â They both turned to you expectantly, clearly not aware that your Adonis-transcendent bodyguard was fresh out of the United States Penitentiary, Administrative Maximum Facility. Oh, thatâs gonna be a hard pill to swallow, right?
âPrison.â You swallowed, clearing your throat awkwardly upon saying it, cause you werenât often the bringer of news that a guy like Dean used to be a prolific criminal who kills for money. âADX Florence. An ex-hitman, to be clear, with over 100 kills in the past two years.â
âSo heâs a bad boy.â Bella giggled, clearly not phased, which kind of concerned you with which brain they both were thinking from, and hopefully not the downstairs one. âEven better, oh my god, I was getting worried heâs a goodie.â
Steph raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly grin. âRight? Like, you canât just drop âex-hitman with over 100 killsâ and not expect us to have questions. Or fantasies.â
âSteph!â you choked, glancing toward the door as if Dean could hear through the thick walls.
âWhat? Iâm just saying!â She crossed her arms, leaning back against the bedpost. âHonestly, though? Heâs got that whole âdark past but reformed bad boyâ thing going for him. Youâre living every romance novel heroineâs dream.â
Bella, not to be outdone, clutched at her chest dramatically. âForget romance novelsâIâd climb him like a tree. That man looks like he could bench press me and not even break a sweat.â
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. âCan we not?â
âWe absolutely can,â Bella countered, her voice rising with glee. âSeriously, youâve got the hottest bodyguard in the country, and you didnât think we needed to know this? Girl, whereâs your sense of sisterhood?â
Steph was nodding in agreement. âYeah, youâre withholding important information. Like, whatâs he like in person? Is he all business, or does he have that smoldering, âI could kill you, but I wonâtâ energy?â
Your cheeks burned, both from their shameless gushing and the mental image Stephâs words conjured. âHeâsâŚfine. Professional.â
ââProfessional,â she says,â Bella snorted. âProfessional at looking fine as hell, maybe.â She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. âCome on. Whatâs he like? Does he flirt? Does he give you those âIâm secretly in love with youâ stares when youâre not looking?â
You glared at her. âNo. Absolutely not. Heâs just doing his job.â
âSure he is,â Steph said with a smirk, clearly not buying it. âBut donât think we didnât notice the way he looked at you when he shut the door earlier.â
You blinked. âWhat? He didnâtââ
âOh, honey,â Bella interrupted, waving her hand dramatically. âHe totally did. That man looked at you like you were the last piece of chocolate cake at a birthday party. And donât even get me started on how he stood. You know, all broody and protective, like some kind ofâŚâ She trailed off, searching for the right words.
âAlpha wolf guarding his mate,â Steph supplied helpfully.
âExactly!â Bella snapped her fingers. âThank you, Steph. Thatâs exactly the vibe.â
You groaned again, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. âYou two need help.â
âWhat we need,â Steph said, grinning wickedly, âis for you to admit that youâve at least thought about it. Because if you havenât, youâre lying.â
âI havenât!â you protested, a little too quickly.
Bellaâs eyes lit up like sheâd just won the lottery. âOh my God, you totally have! Look at youâyour ears are turning red.â
âLeave me alone,â you muttered, glaring at the floor.
But they werenât about to let you off the hook.
âOkay, okay,â Steph said, holding up a hand as if to calm the chaos. âLetâs be serious for a second. Heâs obviously gorgeous, and clearly thereâs someâŚtension. But whatâs the story? Like, how did you even end up with him as your bodyguard? I feel like thereâs a Netflix series waiting to happen here.â
You hesitated, weighing how much to tell them. âItâsâŚcomplicated. He was recommended through some very high-level channels. Apparently, heâs the best at what he does.â
âAnd what he does is kill people,â Bella said, her voice dripping with mock solemnity.
You shot her a look. âNot anymore. Heâs reformed. He went through a rigorous vetting process before he was even considered for the position.â
Steph tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. âSo, heâs done bad things, but now heâs protecting the President of the United States. Thatâs a redemption arc if Iâve ever heard one.â
Bella sighed wistfully. âAnd heâs doing it all while looking like a Calvin Klein model who got lost on his way to the shoot.â
âCan we not turn this into a thirst-fest?â you pleaded, though you knew it was a losing battle.
Bella leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. âOh, sweetie. Itâs already a thirst-fest. Youâre just in denial.â
The conversation spiraled from there, with Bella and Steph taking turns crafting increasingly absurd fantasies about Deanâs hypothetical love life.
âHe probably has a tragic backstory,â Bella said dreamily, lying back on the bed. âLike, maybe he lost the love of his life in some tragic accident, and now heâs sworn to protect others to atone for his past.â
âOr,â Steph countered, âheâs secretly a billionaire who does this for the adrenaline rush. Like, by day heâs your bodyguard, but by night heâs funding orphanages and saving puppies.â
Bella clapped her hands. âYes! And in his free time, he restores classic cars and writes poetry.â
You stared at them, equal parts amused and horrified. âYou two have officially lost it.â
âOr,â Steph said, ignoring you entirely, âheâs secretly in love with you, and this whole bodyguard thing is just an excuse to be close to you.â
Bella gasped, sitting up suddenly. âSteph, thatâs it! Thatâs the one!â
You buried your face in your hands. âI regret ever letting you meet him.â
âDonât be like that,â Bella said, patting your shoulder. âWeâre just sayingâyouâre sitting on a goldmine of romantic potential here. If you donât at least consider it, we will.â
âNoted,â you said dryly, standing up and heading for the door. âNow, if youâll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Unlike you two.â
Bella and Steph exchanged knowing looks as you opened the door to find Dean standing just outside, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.
He straightened slightly when you stepped into the hallway, his eyes meeting yours. âEverything okay?â
âFine,â you said quickly, avoiding his gaze as you brushed past him.
But as you walked away, you couldnât shake the feeling that Steph and Bella might have been onto something.
The drive to Samâs place was smooth, the kind of easy journey Dean Winchester hadnât experienced in years. Maybe ever. The hum of the Impalaâs engine, a comforting growl beneath him, was as close to peace as Dean could imagine. His day off had finally rolled around, and he hadnât hesitated to decide how heâd spend it.
Sam had settled in a quiet neighborhood outside Washington, D.C., where tree-lined streets and neat, white-picket fences painted a picture of suburban serenity. It was a far cry from the lives theyâd led growing up, but Dean couldnât deny it suited his little brother.
Pulling up to the house, Dean killed the engine and climbed out, adjusting his leather jacket as he took in the sight. The two-story home was modest but inviting, with a tidy lawn and a swing set in the backyard visible through the side gate. He could hear faint laughterâprobably from Dean Jr., Sam and Jessâs kid, who, much to Deanâs delight, was his namesake.
Deanâs boots crunched against the gravel path as he approached the front door. Before he could knock, it swung open, and Sam stood there, looking every bit the family man.
âDean,â Sam greeted, his face lighting up in a grin. âRight on time.â
âOf course,â Dean said, stepping inside. âIâm punctual now. Didnât you hear? Iâve got a government job.â
Sam chuckled, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he shut the door behind him. âIâm still getting used to the idea.â
Inside, the house was warm and lived-in. Pictures adorned the wallsâJess and Sam on their wedding day, little Dean Jr. blowing out candles on a birthday cake, snapshots of family trips to the beach. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and Deanâs stomach growled in response.
âJess is cooking?â Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.
âShe insists,â Sam replied with a shrug. âSays you need a proper meal after all that âWhite House food.ââ
Dean smirked. âTell her Iâm not gonna argue with that.â
Jess appeared moments later, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She was glowing, as she always seemed to be, her blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her smile bright enough to light up the room.
âDean!â she exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. âItâs been too long.â
âToo long,â Dean agreed, glancing over her shoulder. âWhereâs the rugrat?â
As if on cue, the sound of small feet thudding down the stairs filled the house. Dean Jr. appeared, his face lighting up when he saw his uncle. The kid was a spitting image of Sam, with floppy brown hair and wide hazel eyes, but he had Deanâs mischievous grin.
âUncle Dean!â
âDean-o!â Dean crouched, catching the boy as he barreled into him. âWhatâs up, kiddo? You keeping your old man in line?â
Dean Jr. nodded enthusiastically. âDad says you work for the President now. Is that true?â
Dean ruffled the boyâs hair. âSure is. Cool, huh?â
âSuper cool,â Dean Jr. said, his eyes wide with awe.
âAlright, enough hero worship,â Sam teased, though his smile betrayed how much he enjoyed seeing his son and brother bond. âCome on, dinnerâs almost ready.â
The meal was heartyâroast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetablesâand filled with easy conversation. Dean filled them in on the basics of his new job, skirting around the grittier details of his past. Sam and Jess shared stories about their life, from Jessâs latest work project to Dean Jr.âs adventures in Little League.
It was only after the dishes were cleared and Jess had taken Dean Jr. upstairs to bed that the conversation turned serious.
The brothers sat in the living room, each nursing a beer. The light from the fireplace cast a warm glow, and the house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards above.
âSo,â Sam began, leaning back on the couch, âyou gonna tell me how this happened?â
Dean took a long swig of his beer, then set the bottle down on the coffee table. âWhat, me working for the President? Thought you already knew.â
âI know the headlines,â Sam said, his brow furrowing. âBut what I donât know is how you went from ADX Florence to the White House.â
Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. âFigured youâd ask eventually.â
âOf course Iâd ask.â Samâs voice was gentle but firm. âYou were in prison, Dean. The kind of prison people donât just walk out of.â
âYeah, well.â Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. âIt started with a newspaper.â
Sam blinked. âA newspaper?â
Dean nodded. âI was in my cell, flipping through this paper someone left behind. Saw an ad for a private security position with the President. They were looking for someone who could think outside the box, someone withâŚunconventional skills.â
Samâs eyebrows shot up. âAnd you thought, âHey, that sounds like meâ?â
âSomething like that.â Deanâs lips twitched into a faint smirk. âFigured I didnât have much to lose, so I wrote up a resume. Handed it off to my lawyer, told him to file it.â
Sam stared at him, his disbelief evident. âAnd they justâŚhired you?â
âNo,â Dean said with a chuckle. âThey didnât even call me at first. Took weeks before I heard anything. When they finally did, they put me through the wringerâinterviews, background checks, psych evaluations. The works.â
âAnd they still hired you?â Sam asked, shaking his head in amazement.
âGuess they figured my track record spoke for itself,â Dean said, his tone turning more serious. âIâve done things, Sam. Bad things. But Iâve also done what needed to be done when no one else could. They saw that.â
Sam was quiet for a moment, processing his brotherâs words. âAnd now youâre protecting the most powerful person in the world.â
Dean nodded. âGuess you could say Iâm making up for lost time.â
Sam studied his brother, his expression thoughtful. âYou know, Jess and I were talking about you the other night. About how far youâve come. Weâre proud of you, Dean.â
Dean shifted uncomfortably, not used to hearing such straightforward praise. âDonât get all mushy on me, Sammy.â
Sam chuckled, shaking his head. âIâm serious. Youâve been through hell and back, and somehow youâre still standing.â
Dean took another sip of his beer, his gaze distant. âYeah, well. Standingâs about all Iâm good at.â
âThatâs not true,â Sam said firmly. âYouâve got a purpose now. A second chance. Donât sell yourself short.â
Dean glanced at his brother, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. âThanks, Sammy.â
Sam returned the smile, then leaned back with a sigh. âSo, whatâs she like? The President.â
Dean hesitated, caught off guard by the question. âSheâsâŚdifferent.â
âDifferent how?â
âSheâs smart. Sharp as hell. Tough, but not in a fake way. And she actually listens, which is more than I can say for most people in her position.â
Sam raised an eyebrow. âSounds like you respect her.â
âI do,â Dean admitted.
âAnd for your typeâŚâ Sam smirked, his voice taking on a teasing tone. âSheâs pretty hot.â
Dean nearly choked on his beer. âSam!â
âWhat?â Sam asked, feigning innocence. âIâm just saying. Youâve got a thing for strong women, and she sounds like she fits the bill.â
Dean shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh. âYouâre impossible.â
âHey, Iâm just calling it like I see it,â Sam said with a grin. âBesides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.â
Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldnât deny the warmth that spread through him at his brotherâs words.
The rest of the evening passed in easy conversation, the kind that only happened between brothers whoâd been through it all together. When Dean finally stood to leave, Sam walked him to the door, clapping him on the shoulder as he stepped outside.
âTake care of yourself, Dean,â Sam said, his voice quiet but steady.
âYou too, Sammy,â Dean replied, his gaze lingering on his brotherâs homeâthe warmth, the love, the life Sam had built.
As Dean climbed into the Impala and drove away, he couldnât help but feel a strange sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in this world after all.
NEXT UP:
âDean,â you said, a touch of surprise in your voice. âI thought you were on your break.â
He didnât reply right away. Instead, his gaze locked with yours, and the air seemed to thicken. There was something different about himâan intensity in his expression, a flicker of something unspoken.
Without a word, he reached up and tugged at his tie, loosening it further before slipping it over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs.
Your eyebrows shot up. âWhat are you doing?â
Dean didnât answer. He shrugged out of his suit jacket next, draping it over the back of a chair with deliberate ease. His movements were slow, calculated, and impossibly confident.
âDean?â you repeated, your voice catching slightly.
His shirt followed. Button by button, he undid it with maddening patience, his green eyes never leaving yours. Your breath hitched as he peeled it off, revealing the broad, chiseled planes of his chest and the faint scars that crisscrossed his skinâa testament to a dangerous past.
By the time his hands went to his belt, your pulse was racing.
âWhat are youââ you began, but the words died in your throat as he stepped forward.
In one smooth motion, Dean swept the documents off your desk, scattering them across the floor. He leaned down, his hands bracketing you on either side as he effortlessly lifted you onto the polished wood surface.
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