#okay I am past the point of denial

[panchulien]

Thought you slipped that Maklan Vice, I saw your new piece

HUHHHHHHHHHHH

hope u liked it tho hehe

[fellhellion]

insert joke abt glutton for punishment etc etc but truly i am that dude who reaches the end of every wayhaven book like waow...detective/A have come so far 🥰....

[beanghostprincess]

Sometimes I think that even if shanks was asked by buggy for help because of the cross guild he would probably do nothing that useful since mihawk is his other close bond and he wouldn’t want to go against him and I get for some reason kinda sad

Agree to disagree, anon, because this is saying that hypothetically Buggy would ask Shanks for help because of the Cross Guild. A thing that could never happen in a million years and Buggy would rather die than ask Shanks anything. But let's say that Buggy (reluctantly) asks Shanks for help.

There are a lot of outcomes here, tbh, since it's hard for me to picture this situation but-- If Buggy is seriously in a big problem with Cross Guild I think Shanks wouldn't hesitate to help him? He won't kill Mihawk, obviously, but I don't see why Shanks wouldn't fight him if talking doesn't work. They get along but they're still pirates and if Buggy is in actual deadly danger he's going to help him out. I love Shanks and Mihawk too but, like, story-wise and canonically Shanks' bond with Buggy is a lot more crucial and important (as I see it) and I don't see why his bond with Mihawk would affect his decision here, tbh.

It's either that or he sends Beck and goes "haha Buggy how could you say you're in danger??? I trust you can get out of this one alone 🙏🏻 And also I don't wanna go, so here's my first mate to keep an eye on you. Don't stab him, please". And Beck wants to die a little bit because why the hell does he have to do this-

But if Shanks knew Buggy was in real deadly danger, he would help. Also, the fact that Buggy is asking him for help is enough sign of something going extremely wrong, so-

[xetlynn]

Hello!!!, I just wanted to request a Claggor x pregnant reader (in the good timeline), if that’s possible, thank you so much <3!

I had fun with this one

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

The Favorite

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: claggor and reader are expecting a baby in a few months. Their family come over with gifts.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare.” My husband stopped me as I was about to pick up a part of our baby’s bed. I sigh, lifting myself back up while holding the bottom of my stomach. “Claggor I can pick up a piece of wood.” I walk over to him. He sat on the floor trying to figure out the directions to put the crib together. It was mine from when I was a baby that my mom surprisingly kept. 

“Not if I’m here. What if you trip and fall forwards? I would never forgive myself.” He looks up at me with a stern expression. I roll my eyes, nudging him with my knee. “I’m only 31 weeks, I don’t even have the pregnancy waddle yet. So I am very capable of picking things up without tripping.” I fold my arms, a little annoyed with this conversation that we’ve had before. 

Anytime I even lift a finger I get scolded. I can’t cook, I can’t lift anything over 5 pounds, I can’t pick things up off the ground anymore. “You’re in denial first off because you so have a waddle. And second I am here so you don’t need to be capable of picking something up. I got it.” He takes my hand, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, whatever. When our princess comes out being a little diva that’s going to be on you.” I point a finger in his face, he pretends like he’s going to bite me.

“And I’ll be okay with a little diva.” He goes back to building the crib. 

I go out to our living room to sit down on the couch. I let out a bored huff. What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and read? Who does he think I am? I’m tougher than him. I used to be a professional fighter. Now I’m some sort of wife with a great husband who wants to take care of me. 

My hands land on my stomach and I think about our baby who is in my tummy. What will she look like when she’s born? I hope she has my eyebrows. Claggor’s nose. 

A bunch of knocks sound at the door and I frown knowing I have to stand up from just sitting down. I grab the back of the couch and try to push myself up. “Sit down, sit down. I got it.” Claggor rushes past me, getting the door. I blink a few times, now annoyed since I got halfway up!

Vander comes into the house holding two baskets. “I bring gifts for my grandchild!” He laughs excitedly, I grin up at him. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that!” I appreciate Vander, he’s been such a good help with setting things up for his granddaughter. “Ah, yes I did. She’s going to be such a spoiled girl.” He clasps his hands together after Claggor took the baskets from him, setting them next to me on the couch. 

“Well, we love you.” I smile, taking the first basket and opening it to see little blankets, a thing of diapers and wipes. “This is so helpful.” I start to tear up, Claggor sits next to me pulling me into his arms. “Sorry, I’m just so grateful for this. You don’t understand.” A tear falls and my body wracks in a sob. 

“She’s been crying a lot more lately.” Claggor tells his dad and I sniffle. Vander snickers, “it’s alright. No worries, I know how it goes.” He waves my behavior off. 

“Powder, Ekko and Mylo are going to be stopping by. They told me to let you know.” He exclaims, his arms over his chest as he speaks to us. “Oh man, they’re so sweet!” I cry out, hiding my face in my husband's chest. I feel him shake as he laughs at me. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He rubs my back up and down. “Sorry,” I sat up, wiping my tears. “Pregnancy brain.” I grab the other basket, opening it to reveal some baby clothes. “Perfect, we’ve been needing to grab some more pajamas.” I take them out of the basket, holding them up one by one to check them out. “So cute.” I squeal, leaning my head on Claggor’s shoulder. 

Not even moments later there’s a pounding at the door and Vander gets it. Mylo sneaks under his arm holding a large golden necklace. “Got this for my niece so she will know who the best Uncle ever is.” He throws it over to Claggor who picks it up in between his fingers to inspect it. “Yeah, she’s never going to wear this.” He deadpans to his brother with an irritated expression. 

“What!? I spent good money on that. She’s going to love it.” He throws his hands in the air. “Mylo, this is fake. Her mother is allergic to fake metal so I’m sure she will be too.” Claggor throws it back to the shorter guy. “Ohhh! He told you.” Powder comes in with a small box, Ekko behind her with painting supplies. “Here ya go!” She places the box down in my lap. “I made them.” She proudly states, hands behind her back. I picked up a light pink rattle. I shook it and it was soft sounding. Perfect for a baby. I look at the others and there were some teething toys along with a few building blocks. “Powder, thank you! This is amazing.” I grin up at her. “Awe, it’s nothing much. I’m excited to meet your beautiful bundle of joy!” 

Ekko wiggles the paint supplies and I point to the bedroom. “Thank you again, Ekko!” I call after him. “No problem! I’m so excited to do this.” He pokes his head out to tell me and I chuckle. “Also, could you clean this mess up? Or is the crib supposed to look like this?” He looks to Claggor who groans. “I forgot all about it. I’ll be back, babe.” He plants a kiss on my lips before heading into our daughter’s bedroom. 

Powder plops down in his spot, Vander reprimands his other son about trying to give a baby a gold chain that ended up being fake. I giggle, turning to my sister-in-law.

“You’re so talented Pow.” I lift up her artwork and her face flushes. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to get you guys for her. Ekko said something about giving you little toys. Then I thought about how I could just make the toys myself.” She explains her process and I smile. “Well this is a great gift.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle, trust!” Mylo tells his dad who scoffs. “You don’t even know what to get a kid.” Vander places his hands on his hips. “You’re right but I know how to make the kid look cool. She’ll be beating up bitches left and right.” He announces and I snort. 

“That’s why you’re not babysitting. Ever.” Claggor comes back into the room. He turns to look at me but then sees Powder in his spot and he frowns. “What? Why not?” Mylo asks. 

“You want my kid to be violent. She’s not going to be.” Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose, not believing this was actually a question. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going to be the favorite. Praise peace and love.” Ekko peaks out behind my husband and I snicker. “You are not going to be the favorite! You guys will eat your words when the first thing she says is Uncle Mylo.” He points at all of us. I hold my stomach from how hard I’m laughing. Powder giggling with me, her hand grabbing onto my wrist trying to contain herself as well. 

“Her first word will be dada. Not her uncle who is an idiot.” Claggor argues, I raise my eyebrow. Dada? It’s definitely going to be mama but I don’t have the energy to join this fight. "I'm not an idiot." Mylo furrows his eyebrows.

“It could be Uncle Ekko. I top all you suckers.” Ekko says and now the three are all in a very heated argument about my daughter who’s not even out of the womb yet. 

Powder turns to me, putting a hand in front of my ear. “I hope they realize the favorite is actually going to be me… Gonna be so embarrassed when they find out.” She tells me and I grin. “You’re so right.” I nod my head. 

--------------------

Gonna try to grind more requests I do have over 25 at the moment so be patient with me!!!! I enjoy this so much. I love seeing all the love!!!! I am getting sick though so if I start to slow down on my posts that's why. I can already feel my body aching:(

N e wayzzz, love you guys!!!!!

[fatecantstopme]

Hello! How are you today? I hope you are doing well today! I have read your stories well mostly of Dean and I fall in love with them! Your stories are just French kisses!! I was wondering if you are okay the the idea or available in Season 10 ep 1-3 Dean is the knight of hell but instead of Sam who found him, it has his wife or fiance reader? He doesn't harm her at all but all he wants to do is trap her and rail her all long day and night he willingly goes with her to the bunker. Something like that, I'm very sorry if it's accurate could it but smut and fluff if it's okay with you? If not that okie! Don't worry! I love your stories and Keep up on doing what you do best! Thank you and have a wonderful day!!

OMG STAHHHP. You're so sweet. I'm glad you like my writing--I love doing it! AND I LOVE THIS ASK SO FREAKING MUCH. I love you for giving me the opportunity to write Dean in the most dominating, degrading, aggressive way possible without feeling bad for making him like that. I love my soft!dom Dean...but I am so freaking into this...HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

Fiend

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: I mean...just read the lovely anon's request. So gooooood.

Warnings: An unnecessary amount of SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), choking, slight degradation, rough sex, oral (M & F receiving), face sitting, orgasm denial, Dean is very dominant. Cursing, canon violence, Mark of Cain bloodlust, use of pet names, slight domestic violence.

A/N: I 100% went overboard on this one and I have no regrets. Fair warning, it's insanely long. It doesn't follow the season 10 storyline perfectly, but we've got the core elements.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked softly.

Sam stared at you, a familiar dark expression on his face. "Do you want to find him or not?"

You closed your eyes and sighed quietly. Of course you did, but you didn't want to lose who you were along the way. "You know I do, but torture's not exactly my thing."

"It's a demon."

"Wearing an innocent woman."

"Fine. You stay out here, then."

You watched Sam enter the dungeon, clearly prepared to do whatever it took to find his brother. The first scream echoed through the hallway and straight into your chest like a knife. You couldn't stay there--didn't wanna hear what happened next.

You went as far away as you could, walking past the bedroom you hadn't entered since the night he'd died. Sam had been the one to discover he was gone--Sam had been the one who found his note. You'd cried yourself to sleep on the couch in the library, heart too broken to even move.

The next morning, you woke to Sam's shouts of your name, but nothing would prepare you for what happened next. Sam's frightened eyes met yours and all he said was "He's gone," before handing you a note.

It was Dean's handwriting. You were sure of it. All it said was "(Y/N), Sammy, let me go."

That was six weeks ago.

Simple as the request was, it wasn't something either you or Sam could do, nor could Castiel. The three of you loved that man too much to just let him go.

At this point, all you knew was Dean was gone and Crowley was with him. Dean's handwriting on the note was the only indicator he wasn't dead...but you'd watched him die. You'd held him in your arms. The only possible answer was that Crowley had gotten a demon to possess Dean's body and rode off into the sunset with him. What you didn't know was why.

**********

Torturing the demon hadn't exactly proven fruitful, but Sam did manage to find a case he thought was connected to Dean. He was convinced the death of a man named Drew Neely was related to demons--and possibly to the missing Winchester.

While it seemed like quite a stretch to you, you were willing to go with him to Wisconsin and find out what happened.

As per usual, you and Sam pretended to be FBI to get inside information on the investigation. Much to your surprise, when the local PD showed you and Sam security footage from the gas station where Drew Neely was murdered, you saw a very familiar face.

You'd know him anywhere--Dean Winchester, seemingly alive and well, being attacked by Drew Neely. You watched as Dean pulled the First Blade from inside his jacket and stabbed Neely repeatedly. As the other man died violently, you watched in horror as Dean's normally beautiful green eyes turned black as night.

You looked up at Sam, whose expression matched your own. It looked like Sam's suspicions were correct--Dean was in fact possessed by a demon. Your only thought was saving him, even though you knew you'd really only be saving his body. You'd be damned if you let some demon scum ride around in Dean's body forever.

When you left the station, Sam turned to you, eyes full of a mixture of sorrow and anger. "Wanna go to the gas station? See if there's anything there?"

You nodded, still a little too upset to do much talking. Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. He knew full-well how difficult this whole thing was for you. This wasn't Sam's first experience with his brother's death, but it was a first for you. He could tell the loss was killing you slowly, especially with Dean's body being defiled by some demon asshole.

When you arrived at the gas station, you were both surprised when the clerk handed you Neely's phone. You wondered why he hadn't given it over to the police, but at the moment, you couldn't be bothered to care. You wanted answers and this phone might be the key.

"There's a text from a number not saved in the contacts," Sam said as he scrolled through the phone's contents.

You leaned forward to look at the screen. "An Abbadon loyalist," you mumbled. "Lovely. But who the hell told Neely Dean was even here?"

Sam shrugged as he pressed the call button, dialing the number on the screen. "Only one way to find out."

When the voice on the other end of the phone answered, the rage that had been simmering inside of you for 6 weeks finally overflowed. "Crowley, you son of a bitch!" you yelled.

The chuckle on the other end did nothing to ease your anger. "Well hello (Y/N). I was wondering when I'd hear from you. Can I assume your avenging Moose is there too?"

You were about to tear into Crowley, but Sam placed a firm hand on your shoulder and shook his head. You clamped your mouth shut so tightly your jaw began to ache.

"Where the hell is my brother, you son of a bitch?"

"Maybe if you were nicer to me, I'd help you."

"Why don't you just start by telling us why you sent an Abbadon loyalist after Dean in the first place?" you growled.

"How else was I supposed to keep the bloodlust at bay? The Mark wants what the Mark wants."

You inhaled sharply, the ache in your chest intensifying at his words. Even in death, the damn Mark of Cain was still torturing Dean.

"Where are you?" Sam tried again.

"Oh please, Samuel, as if I'm going to tell you. Your brother and I are having a grand ol' time together. I quite like this version of him. I'm sure you and (Y/N) are jealous over our new relationship, but I simply can't be bothered to care."

"If Dean wasn't possessed, there's no way he'd be with you," you seethed.

Crowley's laughter echoed through the phone, sending cold shivers down your back. "You think he's possessed? That's not how the Mark works, sweetheart."

The condescension in his tone made you want to crawl through the phone and rip his throat out, but you managed to bite your tongue.

"The Mark twists the soul--darkening it with each kill--until all that remains is darkness," Crowley gloated. "So you see, Dean isn't possessed by a demon, he is one. Not just any demon either—a knight of hell."

You took a step back, suddenly feeling incredibly nauseous. Out of all the scenarios that had run through your mind when Dean went missing, this wasn't one of them. There was no worse way to dishonor his memory--his legacy--than this.

You vaguely heard Sam yelling into the phone, but your mind was spinning too quickly for you to comprehend a single word. Your entire world had just been tipped on its head and you weren't sure how to find solid ground again.

You doubled over, breath coming out in painful heaves. Bile rose in the back of your throat and you found yourself hurling the limited amount of food you'd eaten all over the sidewalk.

You felt Sam's strong, comforting hand on your back as he tried to calm you. After several more dry heaves, you managed to stand back up, eyes bloodshot from the exertion.

Sam's gaze was gentle, but you could see the pain in his eyes. As much as you loved Dean, you knew Sam loved him just as much. You couldn't afford to break down now--not when the two people you loved most in this world needed you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"No need to apologize, (Y/N/N). This is a lot to take in."

You simply nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

"I think I know how to find them."

Your head snapped up, meeting Sam's gaze with hope for the first time in weeks. "How?"

"I think I can track Crowley's phone."

You shot Sam a weak grin. "Thank god you're a genius. Let's go."

Before heading to Crowley's last known location, you and Sam discussed your findings thus far. You now knew Dean wasn't technically dead--which meant there was a slight chance you could use the ritual you'd tried on Crowley over a year ago.

There was a chance you could make Dean human again--and it was a risk you were more than willing to make. Knowing Dean was still in there--still alive--made you more reckless than you'd ever been. You were determined to bring him home, no matter the cost.

**********

You and Sam decided to split up, determining you had more of a shot at bringing Dean home that way. Sam went one route and you went the other, stealing a car to make your journey.

You didn’t realize it, but this decision would result in a cascade of events that would put you right in the crosshairs of the demon your husband had become—alone.

As you sped along the dark highway towards the Black Spur, you were left with nothing to do but listen to the thoughts swirling around your mind. Without Sam there to keep you occupied, your inner turmoil had begun to rear its ugly head.

Out of all the things you’d expected to happen when Dean died, becoming a demon had not been among them. Being possessed was one thing—being a demon was another thing entirely.

You knew exactly how Dean would feel about it, if he’d actually had the ability to feel, and it broke your heart. He was the strongest man you’d ever known, but this would break him. Even worse, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what you would feel when you found him.

You loved Dean Winchester with every part of your soul. He was your best friend, your lover, your partner, your husband. He was the man who never failed to make you laugh or bring a smile to your face. He held you when you cried, took care of you when you were hurt, and made love to you like you were the only thing tethering him to earth. But you knew that man was gone—all that remained was the beautiful body that once held the most incredible soul you’d ever known.

You felt the tears well up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn’t fix things and you’d done more than enough of that in the last month. Instead, you focused on what you were going to do when you found Dean.

You had no idea how you were going to convince him to come back to the bunker with you. You weren’t even sure he wouldn’t kill you if you tried to force him. You’d come prepared, but you would die before killing him. End of the day, he was Dean—somewhere inside him was the man you loved.

Part of you hoped Sammy would get there first—that he’d be the one to find Dean. Then he’d be faced with the decision of what to do next, sparing you the pain. You knew that wasn’t fair, but if you were being honest, you didn’t trust yourself to do this alone. One single look at his face could very well be your undoing.

You sighed quietly and glanced at your GPS. Only a couple hours to go before you would find out for yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam had managed to get himself kidnapped when his car broke down on the way to the Black Spur, which meant he most definitely would not be beating you there. Unfortunately for you, that meant confronting Dean would be entirely on your shoulders--a weight you certainly didn't wish to carry.

**********

A few hours later, you arrived at the Black Spur, unsurprised and maybe a bit relieved to see that Dean was no longer there. You talked to the bouncer Dean had beat the shit out of the night before, so you knew you weren't very far behind him.

What you didn't know was Crowley and Dean had a rather intense falling out due to Dean's ever-growing aggressive behavior and complete and utter lack of respect for Crowley.

After leaving the Black Spur, you decided to stop at a motel, get some sleep, and wait for Sam. You'd tried calling him to no avail and you were starting to worry, but you knew Sam could take care of himself.

You'd just managed to fall asleep when your phone rang. It was Sam.

"Everything alright?" you asked.

"Got kidnapped by some guy named Cole."

"Sorry, what?"

"Apparently Dean killed his dad when he was a teenager and now he wants revenge. He kidnapped me hoping I would tell him where Dean was. He admitted he was trying to get us both, but he hadn't expected us to split up."

"Great. Just what we need. Some random human hunting the best hunter-turned-demon in history."

Sam sighed his agreement. "Cole called Dean...and he actually answered."

"What?!"

"Told him he'd kill me if Dean didn't give himself up."

You paused for a moment, breath caught in your chest. "And?"

"He refused. Told Cole he'd given me explicit instructions to let him go--and it was my fault for not listening to him," Sam said with a huff. "Then he told Cole if he killed me, he'd hunt him down and kill him."

You chuckled dryly. "That actually sounds like Dean."

Sam chuckled softly with you. "Yeah...it does."

You could hear the sorrow in his voice and you knew it matched your own. Seeing even the slightest sliver of your Dean in this demon version was beyond painful.

"I managed to get away while he was distracted. I'm on my way to the Black Spur now," Sam said after a few moments.

"He's not here. I've looked."

You could almost hear Sam's chest deflate as the hope left him. "Any sign of where they might've gone next?"

"No," you answered softly. "And Crowley turned his damn phone off."

Sam sighed heavily. "We'll find him, (Y/N)."

You wanted to believe him--wanted to have that kind of faith, but you'd lost steam. There wasn't a trail to follow, and even if there was, you weren't sure you should follow it. Dean had left Sam to die all because he'd ignored Dean's instructions. What would he do to you if you found him?

You ignored the tightening in your chest, pushing down your emotions as deeply as you could before wrapping up your call. You told Sam what motel you were in and that you'd see him in a couple hours.

You'd just laid back down when there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and slipped an angel blade into the waistband of your pants before moving towards the door. When you looked through the peephole, your eyes nearly popped out of your skull.

You ripped open the door with surprising force, angel blade pointing at the visitor's throat.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing," Crowley grumbled.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Because I know where your husband is."

Your expression softened slightly, but the blade remained pressed to his neck. "Are you going to tell me or do I need to beat it out of you."

Crowley laughed mirthlessly. "Oh please, (Y/N). We all know you aren't capable of torture."

He was right, of course, but you would never admit it. Instead, you narrowed your eyes and pressed the blade a little more firmly into his skin.

The demon winced and threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine! I'll tell you. Just put that thing down."

You remained still for a moment before stepping back and allowing him entry into your room. You closed the door behind him, keeping the blade securely in your hand. "Talk."

"It's more that I know how to find him and less that I know where he is."

You clenched your jaw, feeling the simmering rage begin to boil. "This entire thing is your fault, Crowley, so if you want to stay alive, I suggest you speak plainly."

"We're not exactly on good terms at the moment."

Your eyes scanned his face and a small smirk appeared on yours. "He get tired of you?"

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "We had a disagreement over how to handle his bloodlust. Plus, he's even more arrogant than he was as a human."

Your heart clenched at the word 'bloodlust'. You'd hoped it had subsided in his death, but that damn Mark wouldn't quit until it took every last vestige of humanity left in Dean.

"Fine, so he left your ass in the dust. How do you plan to find him?"

"I have several demons watching his every move. I can't have him making too much of a mess. His type of chaos is bad for business."

"Then make a call and tell me where he is."

"Happily," Crowley paused. "On one condition."

"There it is," you grumbled.

"It's a simple request, really. All I want in return is the First Blade."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons, and I'm quite certain you don't want it in Dean's hands."

You thought about it for a few moments. "If you screw me over, I will burn your sordid kingdom to the ground around you before killing you in the most painful way possible."

Crowley almost seemed impressed. "I think you've spent a little too much time with Dean."

"Not nearly enough," you mumbled under your breath. "Do we have an understanding?"

"I tell you where to find Dean, you give me the Blade."

"You take me to Dean, I give you the Blade," you countered.

A look of fear flashed across his face. "I'd really rather not."

"I don't give a damn. You made this mess, so you're gonna help us out of it."

Crowley sighed. "Fine."

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand, but Crowley interrupted you before you could dial.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Sam."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why the hell not?"

"You will have better luck persuading Dean than Sam will. You've never once betrayed Dean--never let him down. Sam cannot say the same. As such, it's likely Dean will be more likely to have a soft spot for you, even now."

You contemplated his words for several moments, before shaking your head. "Sam's his brother. He needs to know."

Crowley snapped his fingers, sending your phone flying across the room and into the wall with shocking speed, shattering it instantly.

"You son of a bitch!"

"You want my help? We go alone. Sam can catch up."

You glared at him in annoyance, before sighing quietly. "Fine. But I'm driving."

**********

"A piano bar?" you asked in surprise as you parked across the street.

"That's what they said."

Your eyes scanned the street before landing on a familiar black Chevy Impala. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing you were about to come face to face with your worst nightmare.

Crowley's gaze followed yours and he hummed quietly. "As I said, he's here."

"Get out," you hissed. "You're coming in too."

"Pardon?"

"Do you want the Blade, Crowley? Then get out of the damn car."

He huffed, but did as you said. You gestured for him to walk ahead of you, effectively blocking you from sight from the inside of the bar.

The moment Crowley entered, Dean felt his presence. "Didn't expect you to come back," he stated as he sipped some whiskey.

Hearing his voice sent a wave of emotion through your body, having not heard it in weeks.

Dean seemed to realize Crowley wasn't alone and you heard him inhale deeply. "I'd know that scent anywhere." He finally turned around to face the two of you. "(Y/N)."

"Hello Dean," you said softly, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. The idea he could smell you from several feet away was both a reminder of who he'd become, and an uncomfortable turn-on.

Dean glared at Crowley, realizing he had given his location up. Before he could say anything to him, you stepped forward, causing Dean's gaze to snap back to you.

"I suggest you run before I rip your heart out and feed it to you," you growled under your breath, not sparing another look in Crowley’s direction.

Crowley immediately stepped back, exiting the bar as quickly as possible.

"I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to work with Crowley," Dean said lowly.

"Means to an end."

"Hmm." He took a long drink of his whiskey before placing the empty glass on the counter. "I'm surprised you're here alone."

"Glad you asked--Sam's fine. No thanks to you."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he stood up, taking a step towards you. "I gave both of you very explicit instructions to let me go. What happens to you when you disobey is not my fault."

You inhaled sharply, body reacting to his words without approval from your brain. You clenched your jaw, trying to appear calmer than you felt.

Dean had always been extremely perceptive, and his demon abilities only heightened it. He took another predatory step towards you. "I can see your turmoil, sweetheart--you want me and you hate yourself for it."

You scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself--you're not Dean."

He laughed and the sound sent chills down your spine. "That's where you're wrong--I'm 100% Dean, just the new and improved version."

You felt a pang in your chest. "I'll have to disagree on the 'improved' part."

Dean started to slowly circle you, like a predator hunting his prey. "Aren't you the least bit curious, (Y/N)?" Each ring brought him closer and closer to you, until you could feel his body heat enveloping you. "Don't you want to know about all the things I can do now? All the ways I can wreck that pretty little body of yours?"

You felt his breath on the back of your neck--and you were embarrassed when your lips parted and your own breathing sped up.

"I can hear your heart racing, sweetheart." The pet name dripped with condescension--his voice low and gruff, barely above a growl. You felt a wave of arousal rush to your core, thighs rubbing together on instinct.

The movement didn't go unnoticed by Dean, who let out a dark chuckle. His lips brushed against your ear as he inhaled deeply. "I can smell how badly you want me, (Y/N)."

His hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you back so you were flush against his front. You felt his hard length pressing into you through his jeans, a soft needy sound escaping your lips.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving you feeling vulnerable and embarrassed. He might be wearing your husband's face, but he was a demon for christ's sake! You should be as far from turned on as humanly possible.

He came to a stop in front of you, close enough to touch you, but far enough to allow you some clarity. "I imagine you came here to talk me into coming home?"

You didn't bother to reply, it was obvious he could read you as well as he did as a human.

"If I'd wanted to be human again, I wouldn't have left. I'm as familiar with the cure as you are, sweetheart--and it's not worth it to me. I like who I am--I like being a demon. All that baggage I carried as a human? It's gone--I've never felt more free, (Y/N), and I'm not giving that up."

Much to Dean's surprise, your expression morphed into quiet understanding, eyes softening as you watched him closely. He felt uncomfortable under your gaze, so he flashed his eyes black in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

You winced slightly, hating seeing those demon eyes obscuring the brilliant green you loved so much. Your expression, however, remained soft. "Your life wasn't easy," you murmured gently. "There was a lot of heartbreak, pain, and loss...not to mention the weight of the entire world on your shoulders for most of your adult life. I can understand why you'd prefer this...you no longer have to give a damn."

Dean wanted to be annoyed--he wanted to be angry, his need for control surging inside him. Instead, he found himself stepping closer to you again--drawn to your soft eyes and sweet expression. Somewhere deep inside, emotions began to stir.

What had once been a deep, unending love for you, had turned to a lust so powerful, it threatened to devour you both. His eyes turned back to green, but the irises were barely visible around his widened pupils. His gaze was hungry, the predatory look having returned with a vengeance.

"How 'bout we go back to my room?" he purred lowly.

You knew you should say no--you shouldn't go anywhere alone with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to deny him.

"Are you afraid of me, (Y/N)?"

"You're a knight of hell," you whispered. "I'd have to be a fool not to be."

He smirked coldly. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you, sweetheart?"

Despite the darkness within him--despite what he had become--you believed in your heart he would never hurt you.

"No," you murmured honestly.

His smirk widened, rough fingers reaching out to grip your jaw tightly. "Oh I will hurt you, baby--but only in the ways you like."

You inhaled sharply, a wave of arousal dampening your panties even further. Your lips parted slightly, eyes never leaving his.

"You're coming with me," he growled possessively, hand gripping your wrist tightly as he dragged you to the door.

He pulled you roughly out onto the sidewalk and practically dragged you to the Impala, pulling the door open and shoving you into the passenger seat.

His aggression was a turn-on, none of his actions thus far having hurt you. You were certain you'd have bruising on your wrist from where he grabbed you, but you were completely fine with it.

He drove in silence at a speed that sent little waves of terror through you. The hotel he was staying at wasn't far, but he still made it there in record time. It was a much nicer place than the ones you usually stayed in, but you weren't surprised that Dean's tastes had become a little more bougie.

He dragged you into the elevator, pulling your back flush against his chest, hands gripping your upper arms like iron vices. You squirmed slightly and he let out a low growl, grip tightening.

"You move like that again and I'm gonna fuck you in this damn elevator," he hissed.

Part of you was into it, but you also didn't want to get caught fucking your demon husband in a public elevator. So you remained as still as possible until the doors opened on his floor and he pulled you down the hall to his room.

Once inside, Dean slammed the door with force, pinning you up against it so your cheek was pressed into it. His body was molded up against yours and his hot breath fanned across your neck. You felt his teeth scrape your pulse point, earning a low moan from you.

"You have one chance to get out of this," he growled. "One chance to say no and walk away before I fucking devour you."

If you'd had any sense, you would have ran away and never looked back, but you were already too far gone. He might not be the Dean you married, but he was still Dean--just the much darker, much wilder version.

"Fuck me, Dean," you begged softly.

He groaned lowly. "Oh I'm gonna do so much more than that sweetheart."

He ground his bulge into your back and bit into the soft flesh in the crook of your neck, causing you to whimper slightly.

"Wanna know the best part about being a demon?" he purred in your ear as he tugged your head back by your hair so he could see your eyes.

You nodded your head as best you could and waited for him to continue.

"I can have multiple orgasms and I've got the stamina of a god," he murmured. "I can fuck you all night long if I want to--and damnit I want to."

He spun you around quickly, slamming you against the wall beside the door. His lips were on yours immediately, tongue invading your mouth before you could even process what was happening.

You whimpered softly as his lips left yours and he began to kiss and nip his way across your jaw, down your throat, and to your collarbone. He wasn't being gentle, but you still found yourself wanting more--needing more.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, unused to the longer locks. It gave you more to grab, giving you a firmer grip on his head--and you loved it. If the groan that left Dean's mouth was any indication, he loved it too.

You felt his hands grasping at the front of your shirt before ripping it right in half. You yelped in surprise, but he ignored you, instead grabbing the edges of your bra and tugging them down to reveal your breasts.

"Oh, I missed these," Dean murmured before leaning back down to pull your nipple into his mouth. He used both hands to massage your breasts harshly, fingertips pinching at your exposed nipple while he nipped and sucked on the other.

You were panting heavily--almost to an embarrassing degree given how little this man had actually done to you. You found yourself falling into a familiar role with him, though he was much rougher than you were accustomed to.

When he switched to suck on your other breast, he slipped one hand down your stomach to the top of your jeans. He unfastened them easily before sliding his hand into them to cup your very wet pussy.

You felt Dean's smirk against your breast a moment before he lifted his head to look at your face. "Your panties are soaked," he groaned. "How long have you been thinking about me fucking you senseless?"

Your eyes weren't entirely focused on him and you didn't respond right away, so he grabbed your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You respond when I ask you a question."

You gasped softly before whimpering out an answer, "Since I saw you in the bar."

He gave you a look clearly indicating his disbelief. "Really?" His fingers pressed more firmly against your pussy, brushing against your clit purposefully. He ignored your soft moan, but you saw the smirk in his eyes. "You didn't imagine me fucking you while you played with your pretty pussy? Don't lie to me, sweetheart, I know you can't go almost 2 months without an orgasm."

You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your honest response.

His eyes flashed black and your heart leapt into your throat, a surge of fear sweeping through you. "Don't be a brat, (Y/N)," he growled. "You know what will happen."

Under normal circumstances, you'd play into the bratty role--it always got Dean riled up. But this wasn't a normal situation and he wasn't the normal Dean. Dean had always been a very loving and affectionate dom, but you knew demon Dean was about as far from loving and affectionate as one could be. You didn't want to see exactly how far he'd go if you pushed his buttons.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Answer my question."

"I did imagine you," you said so softly he almost didn't hear you.

He pretended to have missed your words and he leaned in closer. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I imagined you," you said again, slightly louder.

"I know." He simultaneously bit into your neck and rubbed his fingers against your clothed clit, eliciting a wanton moan from your lips.

"There are lots of women in this world that'll fall right into my bed with a single look from me, but not a single one has a pussy like yours. Been dreamin' of it for weeks."

His words hurt you, but you pushed those feelings aside and tried to focus on the positive of the backhanded compliment he'd just given you.

He suddenly stepped back, leaving you completely untethered and weaker than you'd expected. Had the wall not been right behind you, you'd be on the floor right now.

His eyes roamed your disheveled body hungrily, possessively. He backed up towards the bed, taking off his shirt as he went. He sat down on the edge, eyes still glued to your body. "Come here."

You did as he asked, too afraid to disobey him.

"Strip."

You started to remove your clothes quickly, but his gravelly voice stopped you. "Slower."

You very slowly removed each article of clothing until you were completely bare. While you'd been naked hundreds of times in front of Dean, this time was different. You felt self-conscious under his hard gaze, afraid he wouldn't like what he saw.

He seemed to sense your discomfort, and to your surprise he assuaged it instantly. "Becoming a demon didn't make me stop loving that body of yours, sweetheart. It's still my favorite thing in the world."

You relaxed instantly, feeling pleased that he liked your body so much. A soft voice in the back of your mind pointed out he'd said your body was his favorite, not you--but you pushed that thought aside for the sake of your heart.

He spread his legs wide and leaned back on his hands, appreciative gaze roaming your exposed flesh. "Now, show me how you like your pretty pussy to be touched."

You bit your lip, keeping your eyes locked on his face as you slid one hand to your breasts and the other to your aching pussy. Dean's eyes watched as you slipped your fingers between your folds, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

You toyed with your clit gently, little moans and whimpers filling the room. You watched as Dean removed his belt and stood up to take off his jeans and underwear. When you finally got a good view of his cock you moaned a little louder, and his eyes flicked up to your face. He smirked when he realized what had caused that noise to come out of your mouth.

He stepped towards you, gripping his large cock firmly in his dominant hand, stroking it slowly. Your own hand had slowed nearly to a stop, but Dean wouldn't have any of that. "Did I say you could stop?"

You quickly sped back up, wanting to please him with an unhealthy level of desperation.

"You're such a good girl for me. My little slut," he said lowly. "Saw the way you looked at my cock, baby--bet you want it in your mouth."

You nodded rapidly.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. "On your knees."

You dropped to your knees instantly, ready and willing to give him want he asked for.

"Open your mouth. Now."

Your mouth opened obediently, waiting for his next move.

"You gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours?"

You nodded eagerly.

"So fucking sexy like this," he murmured. "Gonna make you choke on my cock."

He gave no further warning before grabbing the back of your head and tugging you down onto his cock. You gagged as his large member slammed into the back of your throat, a burning sensation accompanying it.

His hips moved rapidly as he fucked your face harshly--it was as if you were an inanimate object, only there to give him pleasure.

This level of roughness was new for you, and you were surprised to find how much you were enjoying it. Your eyes watered, spit dribbled down your jaw, and your pussy dripped.

The ache was almost unbearable, so you slipped a hand between your legs to provide yourself some relief.

Dean's observant gaze saw the action and he grinned. "Such a dirty little slut aren't you? Getting off on sucking my cock."

You moaned around him, pulling a surprised groan from deep in his throat. He gripped your head tighter, thrusts speeding up. "Fuck--love this mouth," he ground out.

The force of his thrusts made you pause your own ministrations, attention focused solely on the intensity of his motions. You gripped his strong thighs tightly, nails digging into the soft flesh.

"Oh fuck yes--gonna cum in this sweet little mouth, baby."

You moaned in response.

"Yeah? You want that? Want me to cum down your throat?"

You moaned again and tried to nod.

"How could I deny my little slut?" His grip tightened even further on your head, pulling your hair painfully. With one final thrust, he spilled his load into your mouth, hot ropes of cum filling your throat.

You swallowed every drop he gave you, knowing he'd certainly punish you if even a single drop left your mouth.

Even Dean had to admit, he hadn't had an orgasm that good since he'd become a demon--and watching you swallow all of his cum like that had him wanting more. "Greedy, are we?"

You licked your lips as you looked up at him. "I can't help it. You just taste so good."

He was taken aback by your statement, cock twitching in response. Perks of being a demon, he thought to himself. Already ready for round two. "On the bed, feet off the end."

You got up and laid down on the bed, face up. You weren't moving quickly enough for Dean, so he grabbed your ankles and roughly pulled you towards him. Your ass was now hanging off the bed slightly and your pussy was at the perfect height for him to enjoy from his knees.

There was something incredibly thrilling about seeing Dean on his knees for you. While it wasn't the first time, you doubted demon Dean was the kind of man who'd get on his knees for anyone.

"Now I'm gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours until I get my fill, understand? If you try to stop me, you will be punished."

"Yes, Dean."

"Good girl," he mumbled. He spread your legs as wide as they would go and breathed deeply. He licked his lips subconsciously before diving into you.

As always, Dean knew exactly what to do to drive you wild--he'd learned how to read your body years ago. His tongue felt incredible, large and flat, licking from the bottom of your pussy to the top, giving your clit a gentle flick, then repeating.

You shifted your hips, trying to get him to speed up, which he ignored. Instead, he laid his arm across your lower belly, holding you in place so he could continue his work.

After several more moments of this agonizing pace, he finally relented, lips wrapping around your clit to suck it into his mouth. You cried out in pleasure, legs already beginning to shake.

His motions were rhythmic, sucking your clit and licking it intermittently, as if he couldn't decide which one he preferred. As your moans grew in intensity, he knew you were getting closer. He had plans for you this evening--and your first orgasm of the night was going to be from his mouth and nothing else.

Your fingers had tangled in his hair and you were desperately trying to grind yourself against his face, but his arm prevented you from moving. He switched to focus all of his attention on your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue at an insane rate of speed.

You cried out as you came, the orgasm breathtaking in its intensity and pleasure. Dean worked you through the high, but didn't make any signs of stopping.

You remembered his words from earlier, so you kept your mouth shut even though the sensitivity was overwhelming.

When he felt your body begin to relax and the soft moans began to leave your lips again, he slowed his pace way down. He wanted to take his time now, enjoying your taste and the sweet sounds you made for him.

He slid two of his fingers into you, pressing gently against your g-spot before sliding them back out. His tongue laved at your clit, moans of his own giving it the slightest vibrations.

When your pussy started clenching tightly around his fingers and your breathing had become more labored, he sped up. He sucked and licked at your clit, nipping ever so gently at the hood, causing you to yelp softly.

Your fingers had once again found their way to his hair and you were holding on for dear life. You felt your orgasm building--it was so close. You voiced as much to Dean, even though he was already very aware.

You were just about to reach your peak when Dean suddenly slowed down--to an agonizingly slow pace.

"No, no, no--please!" you begged.

Dean ignored your pleas, opting to focus on his activities instead. He sped up just a tiny bit, building your orgasm back up.

The louder your moans became, the faster Dean went. Your orgasm was approaching once again and you begged Dean not to stop.

You were a second away from your orgasm when Dean once again slowed his motions. You cried out in anguish as the blissful feeling faded away.

"Please, Dean," you whimpered.

He lifted his head slightly, fingers still moving very slowly against your g-spot. "I'm not done with this pussy yet. Tastes too good for me to stop."

"But I need to cum," you cried.

"You'll cum when I let you cum," he said harshly.

His mouth dropped back to your pussy, focus once again on enjoying his feast.

Dean did this two more times--denying you an orgasm mere seconds before one was to occur. By this point, you were crying and begging him to just let you cum--you couldn't stand the ache any longer.

Dean decided he had listened to your babbling pleas for long enough. He pulled away from you, leaving you whimpering shamefully.

Dean laid down on the bed beside you. "Get up here. I'm not finished yet."

You were confused, so you didn't move fast enough for him. He smacked your breast harshly and you yelped in pain.

"I said, get up here. Now."

"I don't understand," you whimpered.

Dean sighed in exasperation. "Sit on my face so I can eat you properly."

It's not like you hadn't done this with him before. It was something you'd always known Dean enjoyed, but your brain was so fuzzy with need, it hadn't even crossed your mind.

You pulled yourself up and straddled his head. He didn't wait for you to sit down, he simply grabbed your hips and tugged you down to his waiting mouth.

You moaned in pleasure instantly, the sound spurring him on. He knew you were in for an incredibly intense orgasm and he was dying to taste it--to feel you coat his mouth and face with your sweet juices.

He had you on the brink in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but you couldn't be bothered to feel any shame. You were grinding down on his face, using him for your own pleasure.

You prayed he wouldn't stop this time--the need to cum so overwhelming it was painful. You were gripping onto the headboard for support as you rode his face, moans slowly rising in pitch as you neared climax.

Dean's fingers dug into your upper thighs and hips so tightly there were sure to be bruises. He could tell you were close, so he sped up his motions, desperate for you to cum.

"Dean--I-I'm gonna--"

You finally came with a scream of his name--the sound so loud it likely woke the entire hotel. Your legs shook violently, the pleasure so blinding you nearly blacked out.

It wasn't until you felt someone lifting you and laying you on your back that you started to become aware of your surroundings again.

Dean watched you, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. He reached out and brushed your hair from your face where it had stuck to your sweaty skin. It was an oddly affectionate gesture for a demon.

He waited patiently for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings--come back down to earth, as it were. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, you smiled, forgetting for a moment that he was anything but the man you loved.

"That was...in-incredible," you mumbled breathlessly.

He grinned. "Happy to be of service."

You smiled in return, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Dean crawled on top of you, arms on either side of your body, ensuring you couldn't get away. "I'm no where near done with you yet."

"You give me another orgasm like that and you just might kill me."

He grinned wolfishly, eyes darkening with lust. "Oh sweetheart...you have no idea what I could do to you."

You weren't sure if it was a threat or a promise, but you were incredibly turned-on by it. Dean could see the rapid rise and fall of your chest beneath him...and he knew his words had the desired effect.

He grabbed his cock and rubbed it very gently between your folds. You inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"Do you want my cock?"

You nodded rapidly.

"Come on baby, I wanna hear you say it."

"I want your cock."

"Good girl," he murmured, repeating his earlier motion. "Now beg for it."

Your eyes widened and he gave you a warning look. You knew you had to beg or else. "I want your cock so badly."

"Mhmm."

"I need it."

"Keep going."

"I...I wanna feel you inside me."

"Come on, sweetheart," he chided. "I know you can do better than that."

"I want you to fuck me, Dean. Please--I need you."

He slipped the tip of his cock into you and you whimpered softly. "Give me a little more, baby."

"I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name," you begged. "I'll be so good for you--I promise."

He plunged into you without warning, sheathing himself deep in your warm, wet heat. "That's my good girl," he moaned.

He started to move slowly, in and out, each direction painfully slow. "My god have I missed this pussy," he said as if to himself.

You whined beneath him, hoping he'd get the hint and pick up the pace.

He looked down at your needy expression and smirked. "Patience, baby. I'll make those knees weak--don't you worry."

He leaned down to kiss you roughly, one hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he deepened the kiss. His thrusts started to speed up, matching the pace he'd set with his tongue in your mouth.

After several moments, he pulled himself up, grabbing your legs and putting one on each side of his head. The new position allowed him to hit that spot so deep inside you, you'd thought it was a myth until you met him.

He began to piston in and out of you, each thrust hard and fast. Each time he'd pull almost all the way out slowly before slamming back into you with force--cock brushing up against your cervix with each thrust.

It didn't take long before you were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. He loved seeing how fucked out you were--knowing that it was all because of him.

"Whose pussy is this?"

Your eyes shot open. "Yours!" you gasped.

"That's right, baby. Mine," he growled. "No one gets to touch you like this but me."

"No one," you confirmed breathlessly.

His eyes flashed black. "I'll kill anyone who even looks at you like he wants to fuck you."

You inhaled sharply. Dean had always been a very protective man--possessive even--but this was a whole new level. You had no doubt in your mind that he was completely serious. He would most certainly murder a man for daring to have so much as an unclean thought about you.

It probably shouldn't have turned you on, but it did--his possessive nature infinitely more intense now that he was a demon. Your pussy clenched down tightly around him, signaling how much you liked his words.

"That turns you on, huh? You like the thought of me owning you? Owning this pussy?"

"Yes!" you cried out as he continued to pound into you.

"Lucky for you, I'm never letting you go again," he growled. His thrusts were fast and hard, his focus on feeling you cum around his cock.

His words had an immediate effect on you, his possessiveness almost affectionate in that moment. It was exactly what you needed to fall over the edge with a low moan of his name.

"Fuck!" he groaned as he tried to maintain his speed. Your pussy was squeezing him so tightly he could barely move. "Jesus, baby--gotta stop squeezing me like that."

"Sorry," you whimpered, trying to relax your body.

Dean's hips began to move again and he leaned forward to kiss your jawline. "Don't apologize--not your fault this pussy feels so fuckin' good--made for me."

You gasped softly, skin flushing at his praise.

He pulled out of you without warning and roughly flipped you onto your stomach. His palm landed on your ass with a firm smack, causing you to jump slightly.

"Lift your hips," he ordered.

You did as he asked and he slid into you, immediately setting a brutal pace. He alternated between smacking your ass, pulling your hair, and gripping your hips so you couldn't move.

Your pussy pulsed and fluttered around his cock, the pleasure becoming unbearable. "Dean--s-so close," you moaned.

"I know--you're squeezing me so tight," he replied through gritted teeth. "But don't you dare cum until I give you permission."

"But, I--"

He grabbed you by the hair, tugging you up so your back was pressed against his chest. He nipped at your ear and pressed his hand firmly against your neck--not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know he could.

His voice was low and demanding when he spoke again, "Be a good girl for me, (Y/N), and I won't have to hurt you. But if you disobey me, I will take everything I want and give you nothing, do you understand?"

"Yes," you whispered breathily.

"Good." He released you suddenly, letting your body fall back onto the bed as he renewed his painful thrusts.

You used all of your concentration to focus on not cumming until he allowed you to, but the more time passed, the more painful it was not to orgasm.

"Dean, please--I-I can't t-take it," you cried.

"Yes you can, baby. You're already taking my cock so well."

"Ne-need to cum," you begged.

Dean thought about it for a moment and made a decision. His hips slowed and he leaned forward to speak close to your ear. "You can cum after I do."

You whimpered, head nodding your agreement.

Dean's hands gripped onto your hips, holding them in place as he pistoned in and out of you, chasing his own high. He heard your desperate whimpers and felt your pussy spasming around him, but all he cared about was his release.

His hips began to falter as pleasure licked up his spine moments before he came with a guttural groan, spilling his seed deep inside you.

The moment you felt his cum begin to fill you up, your own orgasm crashed into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

Dean worked you through your high before pulling out of you and letting you collapse on the bed. His large body hovered over yours as he pressed kisses into your heated skin.

His cock was still throbbing with need, despite having just had an incredible orgasm. He knew you were exhausted, but he hadn't had his fill of you yet.

He rolled you back over and slid inside of you, slowly bottoming out with a breathless moan. You whimpered at the sensation, pussy too sensitive and overstimulated for another round.

"No--no more, Dean, please."

"I warned you, sweetheart...told you I wanted to fuck you all night."

"It--it's too much."

He slowly slid out of you and slowly slid back in. "I know you can take it."

You shook your head. "I can't--"

Dean grabbed your wrists and pulled them over your head, holding them tightly in place with one hand. The motion forced him lower, making his body weight press firmly against you.

His lips brushed against yours and his voice was almost pained when he whispered, "I'll be gentle."

You saw the need in his mossy green eyes and your resolve crumbled. You supposed you could allow him at least one more orgasm. "Alright," you murmured.

He smiled at you before kissing you deeply, thoroughly enjoying the taste and feel of you. His thrusts were slow and measured, much more gentle than they'd been before.

To your surprise, the friction wasn't as painful as you'd expected. In fact, you found yourself enjoying the slow feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the thick vein on the underside throbbing inside you.

He let go of your wrists to hold himself up a little, allowing him more room to move. His eyes traced your face as he fucked you, the action incredibly intimate despite the situation.

After several minutes of gentle thrusts, Dean pulled himself up into a sitting position and pulled you along with him. You weren't strong enough to hold yourself up properly, but he was more than capable of keeping your body where he wanted it.

He leaned back, lying flat against the bed, with you now straddling him. You put your hands on his chest for leverage as you began to ride him.

Dean let out a soft moan, which you echoed when he pulled your hips down flush against his so you couldn't move. He pressed his hand firmly against your lower belly and you gasped in pleasure.

"You feel that, baby? Feel my cock so deep inside you? Feels so fuckin' good."

You nodded rapidly, not trusting your voice to actually speak.

Dean released your hips so you could move again, but his eyes didn't leave your body. "You look so fuckin' sexy riding me. Could stare at ya all night."

You blushed deeply, gaze pulling away from his bashfully.

He reached up and touched your cheek, pulling your face back towards him. "I like looking at you."

You bit your lip, but didn't turn away. Having demon Dean compliment you felt so incredibly different than what you were used to. It almost felt wrong to appreciate his words and his gaze--as if you were cheating on your husband. You knew you weren't really, but it still felt wrong.

After several more moments, Dean tired of the slowness of the pace. He grabbed you and pulled you down to him, wrapping his arms around you to hold you tightly. He planted his feet and began to piston up into you, sending shock waves of pain and pleasure through your body.

He loved the wrecked sounds coming from your mouth as he fucked up into you. He knew his current angle would hit your sweet spot with each thrust--and he knew you wouldn't be able to avoid another orgasm.

He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to feel you cum all over his cock again--the sensation was almost as incredible as his own orgasm. He found himself craving it with a desperation he didn't want to dive too deeply into.

"I know you're close, sweetheart," he murmured. "I can feel it--know you wanna cum around my cock."

Your moans and whimpers were all the confirmation he needed.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Please," was all you could manage to say.

"Cum for me."

His command sent you over the edge with shocking ease. You weren't certain you even had it in you to cum again, and the intensity of the orgasm surprised you.

Dean held on tightly as your body shook, your pussy clenching and unclenching around him as you squirted all over his lower body.

"Holy fuck, you're sexy," he groaned, an intense feeling of pride surging through his veins. He'd made you squirt before, but every single time felt like a gold fucking medal to him.

His thrusts became more sloppy as his own orgasm neared. He was so close he could practically taste it, but it was your aftershocks that finally had him exploding inside of you. He stopped moving, holding you tight to him as he emptied deep in your pussy.

He carefully rolled you over onto your back before sliding out of you. You whimpered at the feeling of emptiness, which made his chest swell with pride.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, baby--spread 'em nice and wide," he murmured, large hand gently rubbing your thighs. "Spread yourself open--wanna watch my cum leaking out of you."

You did as he asked, surprised to find yourself so turned-on by his request. You watched him stare at the apex of your thighs, your mixed spends dripping from your abused hole.

He licked his lips, gaze flickering back up to yours. "You're the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

You inhaled sharply, pleased by his praise. "Come here," you whispered, reaching for him.

You were surprised when he actually complied, crawling up your body and placing a soft kiss on to your lips, allowing you to run your hands through his hair affectionately.

After a few moments, Dean pulled away. "Why don't you get a little rest? You'll need your strength."

You looked at him in shock. "Strength for what?"

"You didn't think we were done, did you?"

"Dean, you can't possibly be serious!"

His eyes flashed black, reminding you exactly who and what you were dealing with. "I'm deadly serious."

You exhaled shakily as it finally dawned on you that you had no control over your current situation. Dean could do anything he wanted to you and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do about it.

But that wasn't the concerning part. The concerning part was how little fear you felt. The idea of him being completely in control felt like a good thing...and that was what really scared you.

**********

You awoke several hours later to the feeling of Dean's rough hands on your soft skin. You were lying on your side, with him directly behind you. It had been a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but it seemed Dean now had a different idea.

You felt his cock tease your pussy and you whimpered softly.

"Need you just one more time," Dean murmured in your ear as he slid into you. He held you tightly against him, still spooning you as he began his gentle thrusts.

"Focus on how my cock feels in that tight little pussy of yours," he instructed. "I know you're sore, baby, but I'm gonna make you feel so good."

You'd lost count of the number of orgasms you'd had somewhere after the 7th one. You hadn't even known it was possible for the human body to have that many. Dean was right--you were sore, too sore to move, in fact.

"I've got you," he murmured, pressing his lips into your shoulder.

The intimacy of the moment surprised you and you weren't sure why Dean was being so soft. You leaned back into him, feeling the taunt muscles of his abdomen flex against you.

He took the movement as permission to continue what he was doing. He slid his hand farther down your body, slipping it between your legs to rub light circles on your swollen clit.

You gasped softly, nails digging into the flesh of his arm.

Dean shushed you gently. "Let me make you feel good--just relax."

You tried to do as he said, willing your overstimulated body to stop tensing.

As Dean continued his gentle thrusts and soft touches, you began to feel the familiar tightening deep in your abdomen. You focused on the feeling, on the need for a release as it rose within you.

"You're doing so good for me," Dean praised. "So sexy--with this fucking perfect pussy. Could stay here forever."

His murmured words of praise went straight to your core, causing it to tighten around him. He moaned softly, continuing his movements.

"Dean," you whispered. "I'm close."

He pressed his lips into your shoulder. "Let go for me, baby. I've got you."

For a moment--just a moment--you felt like you were making love to your Dean. The feeling was fleeting, but it gave you hope, even as it ripped your heart to pieces.

He knew exactly what to do to send your body into overdrive--he'd always known. He had you falling apart in minutes, soft cries of pleasure slipping past your tired lips.

"That's it, baby," Dean groaned. "Gonna fill you up."

Dean came for a final time, deep inside you. You'd lost track of his orgasms long before you'd lost track of your own.

He whispered your name softly, lips brushing against your skin sweetly.

He didn't pull out, but his cock finally began to soften--having reached the limit even for a demon.

After several minutes, he allowed you to pull away from him. You rolled over and quickly fell asleep, too exhausted to even exist for a moment longer.

**********

When you finally woke up, you weren't sure how much time had passed. Your entire body was sore, a dull ache from your head to your toes.

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing beside you to the empty bed. Your eyes flitted around the room, seeking any sign of Dean. His clothes were still strewn all over the floor, along with yours, but he could very well have put on fresh clothes.

You weakly pulled yourself out of the bed and slowly made your way to the bathroom, bladder pulsating painfully. After using the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to revive yourself even a little.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, taking in the various marks and bruises littering your skin. You would typically wear such marks like a badge of honor, but in this moment, you only felt shame.

You'd had explosive sex with a demon--not just any demon, a demon that used to be your husband. Your heart clenched as images flashing through your mind. You'd loved it in the moment, but now you felt incredibly guilty.

You couldn't help but wonder what Dean would think of you if you were able to make him human again. You were scared he'd be upset with you--ashamed even.

The sound of the hotel room door opening shook you from your thoughts. You grabbed the robe hanging on a hook in the bathroom and threw it on quickly, barely covering yourself before Dean came into view.

"Hey sweetheart," he said with a smile. "I brought food."

Surprise lit up your face as you stared at him. You hadn't been certain he'd come back, let alone bring you food. "Oh, umm...thank you."

He nodded and placed the bags on the small table. "You wanna take a shower first or eat first?"

You were still in shock from his behavior, but you managed to mumble, "Shower." You closed the door slowly and started the shower, but you didn't get in.

You took a moment to try and collect yourself, but you found it nearly impossible to relax. You sighed and dropped the robe from your body before stepping under the hot spray.

The calming feeling of the water washing over you brought you some relief--as if it was washing away your sins. It also gave you some clarity.

At the end of the day, he was still Dean--and you desperately wanted him back. If this was the only way to do it, then you just had to suck it up and do what needed to be done. If necessary, you'd beg for forgiveness later.

When you got out of the shower Dean was waiting for you at the table. You'd thrown the robe back on, having no other clothes with you.

You offered him a smile before going towards where your undergarments lay near the bed. You also picked up your jeans, but your shirt was completely ruined.

Dean's keen eyes followed you around the room, watching in silence. When you made it to the door where the remnants of your shirt lay, Dean chuckled lightly. "Why don't you wear one of mine, sweetheart?"

You held up the ripped fabric. "I don't think I have much of a choice."

He smiled and stood up, grabbing a clean flannel out of the duffle on the floor. He handed it to you and waited--as if he expected you to say something.

You looked down at the flannel in your hand and inhaled sharply. It was your favorite flannel of his--green and black in color, and incredibly soft from all the washes it had endured.

He saw the moment you recognized the shirt and he suddenly felt oddly nervous--he wanted you to be happy, as silly as that might be for a demon.

"I'll just go throw these on," you whispered.

Dean just nodded as you walked past him to the bathroom. You came out a few minutes later, fully clothed.

He let out a soft sound you could only describe as a low growl. "I love it when you wear my clothes."

You blushed. "You always did find it sexy."

He grinned darkly and took a step towards you, but you shook your head gently.

"My entire body is sore, Dean."

He pouted. "A kiss at least?"

You sighed. "Fine."

He leaned down to kiss you with shocking gentleness. It warmed you from the inside out.

"See? I can be gentle," Dean said with a smirk.

"Interesting for a demon," you mumbled, sitting down at the table.

You missed the look of hurt that crossed Dean's face at your words. He sat at the table across from you, expression impassive.

You started to eat, quickly discovering how hungry you really were. Dean watched you quietly, not particularly hungry himself. He noticed some marks on your exposed collarbone and throat and he felt an odd feeling in his chest. It made him extremely uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite place the feeling.

"Dean?" you asked softly.

His eyes refocused on your face. "Hmm?"

"I know what you're going to say, but will you please come back with me? Just--Just come home, Dean--please." You were more than ready to beg, but you found you didn't need to.

"Alright."

You'd opened your mouth for a rebuttal, but his voice stopped you--"What?"

"I'll come back with you."

Your face was a mixture of surprise and confusion. "I, uhh--I was expecting to have to beg you."

"No need," he commented. "After last night, I have no desire to be anywhere else."

"Anywhere else?"

"Perhaps I should have said with anyone else."

"Ahh. I see." Your heart fluttered slightly, even though the words came from a demon.

"So yes, I'll go back home with you...on one condition."

Your heart began to beat faster as you waited for him to continue.

"Under no circumstances will you ever force me to become human."

Your chest ached at his words, your eyes fluttered closed, and your breath exhaled slowly. Dean knew what he was asking of you--knew it was a lot deeper than a simple promise. "Don't make me promise that," you whispered.

Dean's eyes flicked to black and his expression hardened. "Promise me or leave. The choice is yours."

It felt as though time slowed around you. You had never once broken a promise to Dean--never. He knew you prided yourself on that--he knew you would never break one. You couldn't find it in yourself to betray him, even now.

"I have one condition of my own."

Dean raised a single eyebrow.

"I will make you that promise, if you give me the First Blade."

It was Dean's turn to be surprised. "Why?"

"You know why."

His eyes flicked back to green, but he looked annoyed. "And if I don't give it up?"

"Then I leave."

Dean weighed his options in silence. After a few moments, he got up and crossed the room towards the door where his jacket hung. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out the First Blade.

You inhaled sharply, a ripple of fear surging through you.

He crossed the short distance back to you, placing the Blade on the table in front of you. You reached out for it, but his hand snapped forward and grabbed your arm.

"Do we have a deal?"

You exhaled heavily. "We have a deal."

"Say it."

"I promise I will never force you to become human again," you whispered.

He released your arm and smirked. He was obviously pleased with himself, even as you quite clearly ached from making such a promise.

You pulled the Blade towards you, keeping it as close to you as you could. You needed to call Crowley to come get the damn thing as soon as possible--you wanted it as far away from Dean as possible.

“Maybe we can leave when I’m done eating?”

Dean just nodded. “Better not tell Sam until we get there.”

You couldn't have told him even if you'd wanted to, given that Crowley had broken your phone, so you simply nodded your agreement.

Dean watched you in silence while you finished eating, his face completely unreadable. You were worried about what Dean was planning, but you were more worried about Sam's reaction to all of this.

**********

The drive back to the bunker was uneventful. Dean drove straight through the night, no need for sleep. You were still tired from your antics the day before, so you slept for a large portion of the drive.

Dean woke you 10 minutes before arrival. "How pissed you think Sammy's gonna be?" he asked.

"You left him to die, Dean--he's probably not gonna be excited to see you."

Dean shrugged. "I mean, he didn't die though."

You shot him a glare and he laughed. "It's not funny, Winchester."

"It's not, not funny."

You sighed. "Just let me do the talking, okay? He's not pissed at me."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "He's gonna be."

"Either way," you mumbled. "Just let me handle it."

"Fine."

Dean pulled in to the underground garage and you both got out of the car. You weren't sure if Sam would even be there--you hadn't spoken to him in a couple days. For all you knew, he could have been kidnapped a second time--or maybe he thought you were the one missing.

As you entered into the bunker properly, you found it very quiet and very empty.

"Looks like nobody's home," Dean commented.

"Sam's probably worried about me--god only knows where he is," you muttered. You turned to Dean. "Let me borrow your phone."

He eyed you warily. "What happened to yours?"

"Crowley broke it."

Dean's eyes narrowed, flashing black aggressively. "He what?"

"Easy there killer--he broke my phone, not me."

"I'll kill him."

"Get in line," you mumbled as you stuck out your hand. "Phone, please."

He handed you his phone and you immediately dialed the familiar number. Sam answered on the second ring, hope and surprise in his voice, "Dean?"

"No, it's me."

You heard relief in his voice when he spoke again. "Where the hell are you? Are you okay? I was seriously worried--" he paused, seemingly remembering whose phone you were using. "Are you with Dean?"

Dean leaned in over your shoulder to speak into the phone. "Hiya, Sammy."

You elbowed Dean lightly. "I'm fine, Sam, and yes, I'm with Dean."

"How--?"

"Crowley."

"Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"Also, Crowley. He busted my phone--hence why I'm using Dean's."

"Are you--are you safe?"

You looked over at Dean and sighed. "Yeah, I'm safe."

Sam sighed in relief. "Where are you--I'll come get you."

"We're, uhh--we're actually back home."

"What?"

"We're at the bunker."

"How the hell did you convince him to come back with you?"

"We can talk about that when you get here. Just come home."

"I'm on my way."

You hung up the phone and handed it back to Dean, who gave you a hungry look.

"So...what should we do while we're waiting?"

"I know you're a demon, but I'm not," you said lightly. "I'm still sore."

"Aww c'mon, sweetheart," Dean pouted slightly. "I'll be gentle."

You shook your head with a small smile. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I was gentle yesterday morning, wasn't I?"

"After several orgasms and some very rough sex."

"I thought you enjoyed that," he said lowly, stepping closer to you.

You blushed, taking a step back. "I--I did."

He grinned predatorily. "I can make it very good for you, baby."

You felt a rush of arousal flood your body as he took another step towards you, backing you up against the large table behind you.

He breathed deeply and his eyes flashed black. "I can smell your desire."

You exhaled shakily.

Dean leaned forward, pinning you against the table. He placed one arm on the table and the other very lightly against your throat. "How 'bout I take you right here?"

You weren't opposed to the idea, but you weren't sure exactly how far away Sam was. "What if Sam comes back?"

Dean shrugged. "Then we'll give him a show."

You smacked his chest affectionately. "We will not."

"Then I guess you better hope he doesn't come back while I'm fucking you senseless."

You gasped and Dean leaned down, pressing his lips hungrily against yours. You kissed him back with the same amount of passion, fingers digging into his back to pull him closer to you.

You felt Dean's fingers brush against your chest and you pulled back immediately. "Wait!"

Surprise lit up his face and he released you instantly. "What's wrong?"

"This is my favorite flannel--you are not going to rip it."

Dean laughed heartily. "My apologies, sweetheart. You can take it off yourself then."

You quickly unbuttoned it and slid it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor nearby. You looked back up at him, a sultry smile on your face. "You may continue."

"Oh, I will." Dean gripped the front of your bra and tore it directly down the center, revealing your heaving breasts to him.

You gasped at the action, but it quickly turned to a moan as his hands began to massage your breasts and pinch your nipples harshly.

Your hips instinctively jutted forward, seeking his body for some relief. Dean immediately noticed, pressing his body firmly against yours, knee sliding between your legs to apply pressure against your core.

You ground yourself down on his knee and groaned softly. You repeated the action, the friction giving you pleasure.

"That's it, pretty girl," Dean growled lowly. "Get yourself off my thigh."

You continued your motions, but it just wasn't enough to get you to your peak. You whimpered softly and Dean chuckled darkly.

"Not enough for you, baby? Need me to help you?"

"Please," you begged.

He made quick work of removing your jeans, but instead of removing your underwear, he simply ripped them right off, practically shredding the lace.

Dean slipped two of his fingers between your legs and plunged them into your core. You gasped and clenched tightly around him.

"Fuck, sweetheart--you're fuckin' soaked," Dean groaned into your neck, fingers thrusting in and out of you hastily. "So damn tight too."

You whined softly as he pulled his fingers out and slipped them into his mouth, sucking them clean. He gripped your hips tightly and lifted you to place you on the table properly.

You wrapped your legs tightly around him and pulled him in closely, desperately wanting to feel him against your skin. You tugged at his shirt, which he quickly removed.

Your fingers grasped at his belt, but he smacked your hand away. He said nothing as he dropped to his knees and tugged your hips forward.

"Spread those legs for me."

You did as he asked, spreading your legs as wide as you could. You waited for him to touch you, but he made no moves to do so. "Dean?" you asked softly, slight desperation in your voice.

His eyes raised up to meet yours, a dark expression on his face. "Touch yourself."

"What?" you asked in quiet confusion.

"You want some relief? Touch yourself."

You supported yourself on one arm while you moved the other between your legs. You were mortified by the wetness dripping down your folds, but you collected some before sliding your fingers between your labia.

Dean watched with dark, hungry eyes as you played with your clit, soft whimpers of enjoyment slipping from your lips.

"Spread yourself open so I can see," he demanded.

You did as he asked, using your other hand to spread yourself, giving him a proper view of your aching pussy.

"Fuck," he muttered beneath his breath. "Keep going."

Your fingers immediately went back to rubbing your clit, desperate to feel that tightening in your core--knowing the pleasure it would bring.

Dean's large hands splayed on your thighs, massaging them gently as he watched, eyes glued to your movements.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he leaned forward and licked into your pussy, making you shiver with anticipation. You moved your hand away and he slapped your pussy harshly, causing you to yelp.

"Did I fucking say you could stop?" he growled, eyes flashing black.

You inhaled sharply and shook your head, fingers immediately returning to your core. You wouldn't admit it to him, but you liked this dark side of him--he would never have let it come out like this if he were human. He was too afraid to hurt you--too protective to even consider it. You hadn't known how much you'd enjoy it until now...and you just had to hope Dean wouldn't notice.

Dean's tongue lapped lazily between your folds as you continued to massage your clit. Every time you felt the pressure begin to build in your gut, your fingers would instinctively speed up. Each time they sped up, Dean would pull your hand away, keeping your orgasm just out of reach.

After several minutes of this, Dean's control had begun to wane. When your fingers sped up, he once again removed your hand, only this time he replaced it with his mouth. You felt his tongue dance across your clit in the most pleasurable way, fingers entwining themselves in his hair.

Your hips bucked up towards his mouth, but he didn't relent. Even as you screamed his name and your juices began to gush, he kept his mouth on you, drinking up everything you gave him. It wasn't until you'd collapsed back onto the table that he finally pulled away and stood back up, licking his lips in satisfaction.

Your breathing was ragged and your vision was slightly blurred as you looked at him, waiting for him to make his next move. He quickly shed his jeans and boxers, tossing them out of the way before taking his cock into his hand.

He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly as he stroked himself, appreciating how fucked out you already looked. "I need you to sit up, sweetheart." His words sounded soft, but his voice was demanding.

You managed to slowly pull yourself into a sitting position, grabbing onto his muscular arms for support. He teased your entrance with his cock and you whimpered softly.

"Lean back on your hands," he murmured lowly.

You did as he asked, the angle allowing him better access to your pussy. He slipped the head of his cock between your folds and slowly began to push forward until he was completely sheathed inside you.

The feeling of fullness had you gasping softly, head tilted back as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean tugged you even closer by your hips so he could get even deeper. You cried out in pain as his first thrust hit your cervix, but Dean didn't seem to notice. His hips snapped forward repeatedly, each thrust threatening to send you flying across the table if not for his death grip on your hips.

The pain soon gave way to pleasure, the room filling with the sounds of your mixed moans, the slapping of skin, and the sounds of your slickness as he fucked you.

He snaked one hand around your back to pull you even closer to him, practically holding you as he kept his pace. Your legs had begun to shake and your arms were weakening--but you knew your orgasm was near.

"Harder," you whimpered, surprising him.

He growled. "You like it when I fuck you like a little slut, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

His hips moved impossibly faster, the thrusts harder than before.

"Don't stop!" you pleaded.

"I wouldn't dare." He kept the pace as steady as he could, even as he felt his own orgasm rising.

"Please, please, please," you rambled. "S-so close!"

Dean's hand wrapped around your throat, pressing lightly against it. "Cum for me, pretty girl," he growled.

"More!"

He tightened his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. It was all you needed to push you over the edge and into bliss. You cried out as you came, the intensity of your orgasm sparking his own.

He shouted your name in surprise as hot spurts of cum filled you. His thrusts began to slow, but his grip on your body didn't lessen. He held on tightly as you both came down from your highs.

He roughly tugged you forward and off the table. You weren't stable enough to stand, but that didn't matter to him. He spun you around and forced your upper body down onto the table, spreading your legs with one of his.

His cock was already hard again and he plunged into you without warning, earning a cry from your lips.

"Fuck, this pussy is so good for me," he groaned. "I just wanna fuck you until you can't move."

"Dean!" you whimpered, body overly sensitive already.

Once again, his grip on your hips was bruising and his thrusts were almost painful in their depth and intensity. The only thing keeping you upright was the table beneath you, your legs no better than wet noodles.

"You look so fuckin' sexy like this--spread for me, pussy leaking my cum, fuckin' moaning so pretty...fuck." His thrusts sped up, making you cry out.

"Need--shit--need you to cum again, baby."

"I-I c-can't!"

"Yes you can--you've been so good for me. Just give me one more."

Tears welled in your eyes--your body ached horribly, but you wanted to please him so badly. Your hips and thighs hurt from his grip and the force of his thrusts pressing you into the table, but you tried to block all of that from your mind. You focused on the pleasurable feeling of his cock, desperate to give him what he wanted.

"I-I need more," you whimpered.

His hand immediately slipped around to your front and began to rub tight circles to your clit. The sensation nearly pushed you over the edge with how sensitive you were.

"Come on, sweetheart, I can tell you're close."

You moaned in response, focus entirely on reaching your high.

His finger moved faster, the friction sending you into overdrive. You screamed and your nails scratched against the wood as you desperately searched for something to cling to--something to ground you.

"Fuck, yes--that's it. Cum for me, baby."

You screamed again as you came--the pleasure so blinding you passed out for a few moments. When you came to, he was chasing his own high--thrusts becoming more sloppy by the second.

"G-gonna fill you u-up," he ground out, hands tightening on your hips painfully.

Two more thrusts and he was spilling inside of you, hips stuttering as he emptied his seed deep within you. He leaned forward, pressing you even farther into the table, his lips gently caressing your back.

Once he'd regained his breath--and his strength--he pulled out of you and stood up. You nearly slid off the table and onto the floor, but he caught you.

"Woah there--I've got you."

He scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom the two of you shared. He laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness before climbing onto the bed with you.

"No--no more--please," you begged.

"Easy, sweetheart," he purred softly. "I know you're tired--I just wanna be inside of you."

He laid you on your side and he slid up into you, forcing some of his cum back into your pussy. You whimpered at the feeling of fullness, but even you had to admit you enjoyed the feeling.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you and pulled you close. "Go to sleep, baby. I've got you."

His tone was almost loving--if you didn't know better, you would have thought it was. You were too weak and tired to dwell on it, instead drifting off to sleep with unsurprising ease.

**********

Sam rushed into the bunker like a bat outta hell. He wanted to trust that his brother would never hurt you, but he worried for your safety. Dean was a knight of hell after all.

When he properly entered the war room, he froze. His eyes went to the clothing strewn about the space--a mixture of your's and Dean's. Out of all the things he'd expected, this had not been on the list. He couldn't believe you would be that foolish.

"(Y/N)? Dean?" he called as he walked farther into the bunker.

There was no response, so he made his way to where your bedroom was. The door was shut, so he knocked loudly.

You jolted awake at the loud banging, the movement making Dean moan softly. Somehow he was still hard and buried inside of you--where he'd been for however long you'd been asleep.

"(Y/N)? You in there?" Sam's voice called from the other side of the door.

Dean groaned in annoyance, but you answered anyway. "Yeah--just, uh...give us a minute."

"You coulda told him to go away," Dean mumbled into your shoulder.

"We'd just be delaying the inevitable."

He sighed and slowly removed himself from you, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. He grinned and leaned down over you, kissing you softly. "Don't worry, we can do it again later."

You kissed him back, before giving him a light push against his chest. "I need clothes."

You dragged yourself out of bed and moved around the room, throwing various items of clothing on to make yourself decent. You wanted a shower, but that would have to wait until after you'd talked to Sam.

Dean watched you from his place in the bed, not making a move to get dressed himself.

"You coming?" you asked.

"I'll give you a head start," he answered. "You can talk to Sam alone."

You nodded. "Alright."

You exited the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Sam was standing at the end of the hall near the entrance to the library. The look he gave you told you exactly what kind of mood he was in. He disappeared into the library and you followed shortly after.

"Sam, I can explain--"

"Explain? Really? You wanna explain why you're sleeping with demon Dean?"

"Oh like you can talk," you shot back. "You slept with a demon several times--and she tried to destroy the world."

Sam's eyes narrowed, but he knew you were right.

"Besides, he's still Dean...just a demon," you mumbled.

"Fine," Sam said with a sigh. "Is that how you convinced him to come back with you?"

You averted your gaze and bit your lip lightly. "Not exactly."

"(Y/N)...what did you do?"

"What I had to do."

"(Y/N)."

"I, uh--I made him a promise."

Sam's face paled slightly. "What did you promise him?"

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. "I told him I wouldn't force him to become human again."

"You what?" Sam yelled. "You can't possibly keep that promise."

"I have to, Sam. I've never betrayed Dean before and I sure as hell won't start now."

"Are you kidding me? He's a demon, (Y/N)! A monster! The kind of thing he's loathed for his entire life--you really think he wants this?"

"Of course I don't!" you yelled back. "Do you really think I want my husband to be a demon forever? This was the only way to get him to agree to come back here with me. I don't regret making this promise and I would do it again if I had to!"

"So you'll break it?" Sam asked again, voice still raised.

"No," you answered firmly. "I can't."

"How could you be so stupid, (Y/N)?" Sam yelled harshly. "This is the dumbest goddamn thing you've ever done!"

Dean appeared seemingly out of nowhere, wedging himself between you and Sam. He pushed Sam back aggressively, eyes flashing to black. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "Don't you ever speak to her like that again, or you won't make it to see another sunrise."

"Dean!" you cried, stepping forward to place a calming hand on his arm. "It's alright--I'm fine."

Dean ignored you, black eyes still trained on his brother's face. "Do you understand me?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Apologize."

"Dean, that's not necessary," you tried.

He held up his hand to silence you. "Apologize."

Sam swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have said that."

"It's alright, Sam."

"Don't do it again," Dean seethed.

"Dean," you murmured softly. "We're good--I'm good."

He finally relaxed his shoulders and took a step back. His eyes flicked back to green and he turned to look at you. He seemed to scan you, checking to make sure you really were okay.

"I'm fine," you mouthed.

He nodded, finally believing you. He turned back to his brother. "Now you gonna play nice and adhere to (Y/N/N)'s promise?"

"I don't like it," Sam responded. "But fine."

Dean grinned. "Excellent. Otherwise we'd have quite a problem on our hands."

You exchanged glances between the two men and worried they would have some sort of fight sooner than later. You knew you needed to get the First Blade to Crowley before something terrible happened.

"Sam, can I borrow your phone for a moment?" you asked suddenly.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. Dean eyed you warily, wondering what you were up to.

"Just gonna make a quick call...outside," you mumbled.

You practically ran towards the steps, taking two at a time to get out of there before someone asked too many questions. You called Crowley as soon as the bunker door closed behind you.

"Mrs. Squirrel," Crowley answered by way of greeting.

You rolled your eyes, opting not to comment on the annoying nickname. "I have the Blade."

"Where?"

"The Bunker."

He appeared a few feet away from you and you hung up your phone. You gestured for him to follow you down towards the garage.

"Stay here," you insisted, before entering the garage as quietly as possible.

You went straight for Baby, popping the trunk to retrieve the First Blade from the demon-proof box you'd placed it in. You made your way back outside quickly, not wanting to alert Dean to your movements.

"Take it," you demanded, holding it out to Crowley. "And for the love of god, hide it--put it somewhere Dean will never find it."

"I can assure you, it will be hidden well."

"Good. Now get the hell outta here before I change my mind about killing you."

Crowley smirked mirthlessly. "With pleasure."

He disappeared, taking the First Blade with him. Relief flooded your body and you turned to make your way back into the bunker, hoping to find both men in one piece.

**********

It had been a week since you and Dean had returned to the bunker. As the week went on, Dean's anger and aggression became more and more noticeable.

He hadn't said anything to you, but you knew Dean was jonesing for a kill. You could tell by the way he'd react to things--even the slightest of annoyances would have him reacting violently.

The other indicator came out in Dean's sexual desires. He wanted you almost constantly, regardless of where you were, who else was around, or what was going on. While that alone wasn't problematic, what was concerning was his increasing aggression during sex--and if he didn't get what he wanted immediately.

There wasn't a single inch of your skin he hadn't marked in some way, and you were beyond exhausted. The one time you'd dared to say no to him, resulted in him punching a dent into a metal wall--an action that frightened you. You still didn't think he would hurt you, but you weren't willing to risk it.

Sam had begun to notice as well, especially as it pertained to the marks on your skin. Dean no longer cared about hiding them and makeup wasn't cutting it anymore.

Sam's gaze was on you as you entered the library one morning, limping slightly.

"You know, I'm really starting to worry about you," Sam said quietly.

"I'm alright," you lied as you lowered yourself into a chair, wincing in discomfort.

"Right," Sam muttered sarcastically. "You can't even sit without being in pain."

"If it keeps him from killing someone, then it's worth it," you snapped back.

Sam fell silent, knowing you were right. He wanted to bring up breaking your promise again, but he knew you wouldn't budge. He worried about how Dean would feel about all of this if he became human again...he knew his brother well enough to know it would kill him to know he'd hurt you like this.

Another week went by in much the same manner, but Dean's urge to kill had only worsened. He still hadn't hurt you outside of sex, but you'd begun to fear him--really fear him.

You'd decided to address the issue with him while Sam was out on a store run. You thought he might take it better if Sam wasn't hovering around.

Dean was sitting in the kitchen, drinking his coffee, when you walked in.

"Hey, D," you said softly. "Can we talk?"

He grunted and gestured for you to continue.

"It's about your behavior the last couple weeks. I-I know the bloodlust is getting bad and to be honest, your temper is starting to really scare me."

He looked up at you with black eyes. "Maybe if you'd let me go out and do some hunting I wouldn't be so volatile."

"You know we can't do that, Dean."

"We," he scoffed. "Since when did you and Sam become 'we'?"

You closed your eyes and sighed, ignoring his question. "You're too unpredictable. You know that better than anyone."

He stood up and took a menacing step towards you. "Give me the Blade and let me go out for a while...one or two kills and I'll be right as rain."

"I can't do that."

"I think you mean won't."

You shook your head. "I can't. I don't have the Blade."

He froze. "What the hell do you mean you don't have it?"

"I-I couldn't risk you getting ahold of it...so I made sure it was safe."

His gaze narrowed, eyes still black as ink. He took several steps towards you, but you backed away until you hit the wall behind you.

He was inches from your face when he growled lowly, "Where is it?"

"I don't know," you whispered.

"What?"

"I don't know," you repeated.

"Where did you put it?"

You were deeply regretting telling him anything at all, but you still blurted out, "I gave it to someone!"

"Who?!"

"I needed to make sure it was hidden where you would never be able to find it," you said desperately.

"Who did you give it to?" he roared.

"Crowley," you whimpered in fear.

Dean punched the wall directly beside your head and you yelped in surprise and fear.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

You didn't answer--too afraid to push his buttons further. You could feel the rage rolling off him in waves and you felt the cold terror seize your heart.

"Call him and get it back," he ordered.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't risk Dean getting ahold of the Blade...not for anything.

He pinned you against the wall by your throat, slamming your head back against the wall with enough force to break the skin.

His grip on your throat was painfully tight and you tried desperately to get away. "Dean--" you gasped.

For a moment, you were certain he was going to kill you--you would be the next victim of the Mark's bloodlust and there was nothing you could do about it. Even with his eyes filled with darkness, you could see the boiling rage in them. He wasn't seeing you, he was seeing his next victim.

You struggled against his hold on your throat, trying to loosen his grip enough for you to speak. You smacked your hands against his chest, trying anything to get him to release you.

You suddenly remembered your failsafe--you'd starting carrying it everywhere when Dean became more volatile. You managed to pull the item from your pocket, breaking the lid off as you brought it up and splashed the liquid into Dean's face.

He screamed and released you as the holy water burned his skin. You dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, head throbbing painfully. As you coughed and sputtered, you reached a hand to the back of your head, touching the wound softly. When you brought your hand back down, you saw blood staining your fingers.

At first, all Dean could feel was rage--you'd dared to splash holy water in his face? He'd kill you for it. But then his gaze landed on you as you crouched on the floor, blood soaking your fingers, trying to catch your breath. He looked up and saw the blood on the wall where he'd slammed your head against it and he immediately felt sick.

He stepped away from you, eyes flicking back to green as tears filled them. He hadn't meant to hurt you--even as a demon, he'd never wanted to hurt you. He'd let the Mark's rage get the best of him and he'd nearly killed you.

He backed away to the other side of the room and sank to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. He was ashamed of what he had done and for the first time since he'd become a demon, he felt like a monster.

A few minutes later, Sam came into the kitchen, arms laden with bags. His eyes landed on you first and he dropped the bags as he rushed to your side.

"(Y/N)! What happened? Are you okay?"

Without waiting for your response, Dean spoke up. "I happened."

Sam turned to look at Dean on the other side of the room. He felt angry when he heard Dean's words, but the anger dissipated when he saw the agony etched into his brother's face.

"I-I was so angry..." Dean whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"I'm okay," you rasped, voice hoarse from the trauma to your throat.

The sound of your voice nearly broke Dean's heart in half. "Give me the cure," he said to Sam.

"What?" Sam gasped in surprised.

"Make me human again. Please." The desperation in Dean's voice shocked both of you, as did his request.

"Are-are you sure?" you asked.

Dean looked at you in a mixture of sadness and pain. "I would rather risk death than ever hurt you again."

His words washed over you, warming the ache in your chest. You didn't say anything further--you couldn't find the words.

"Let's go then," Sam said firmly.

Dean stood up and followed Sam down to the dungeon. Sam came back a few minutes later to help clean your wounds. As he cleaned your head wound, he told you he'd secured Dean in the dungeon and he'd called for Castiel.

"We might need some backup for this," he muttered.

You nodded, the simple action making your head throb painfully.

"Try not to move too much," Sam said gently.

"I'm alright."

"What happened?" Castiel spoke from the doorway.

"Dean did," Sam said with a sigh.

"You need to be healed."

"No," you insisted as you held up your hand. "Don't waste what little grace you have left on me."

Cas looked down sadly, but he didn't come towards you. "Where is Dean?"

"Dungeon," you mumbled.

Cas walked away, apparently on his way to see Dean.

Sam finished cleaning your head wound and stood up. "I don't think you need stitches."

"Great," you groaned, standing up slowly.

"Woah--take it easy."

"I'm fine, Sam. We need to do this before he changes his mind."

"Cas and I can handle it."

You shook your head. "I'm not leaving him."

Sam sighed and gave you his arm to hold onto while walking down to the dungeon. When you opened the door, you saw Dean strapped to a chair in the center of the room. Cas stood off to the side, waiting.

"Let's get started," you said softly.

You left the dirty work to Sam--you couldn't bring yourself to hurt Dean, even after everything that had happened.

Listening to Dean's screams and pleas was almost too much for you to bear, but you knew it had to be done. Dean had asked to become human again...and there was nothing you wanted more.

Despite the agony he was experiencing, Dean insisted Sam continue the injections. As much as he would have rather stayed a demon, he was too afraid of what he would do to you if left unchecked.

You closed your eyes as Dean once again screamed in pain. You weren't sure how much more of this you could take, let alone Dean.

Dean noticed your demeanor--could tell your resolve was weakening. "It's okay, baby," he told you breathlessly. "I'm okay."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, unshed tears blurring your vision. He gave you a small, weak smile, which you tried to return. It ended up looking more like a wince than anything else.

"I wanted this, remember? I want this," he insisted.

You nodded tearfully. "I know. I just don't like seeing you in pain."

"We've only got one injection left," Sam cut in gently.

You watched in silence as Sam injected him with the final dose. Dean once again cried out, before falling completely silent, head drooping forward.

"Dean?" you whispered in fear.

When he didn't respond, you worried you had all gone too far...that Dean was dead.

As the three of you stared at the man in the chair, you heard a soft groan escape his lips and he slowly lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the beautiful green orbs you loved so much.

"You guys look worried," Dean said softly.

Sam splashed some holy water on his brother, but the liquid had no effect.

You let out a choked sob, beyond relieved to have your husband back.

You thought you heard Sam say, "welcome back Dean," but you were too focused on Dean's face to be sure. His own gaze was locked on yours, tears filing his eyes as he slowly took in the marks littering your skin--especially the bruising around your throat in the shape of his hand.

"(Y/N/N)," he whispered, his voice more broken than you'd ever heard it.

"Uncuff him," you said to Sam, who immediately did as you asked.

Dean stood up, clearly weak from the ordeal he'd just gone through, but nothing would have stopped him from getting to you.

He was a foot or two away from you when you gave in to your own desires, closing the gap between you. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and sobbed into his chest--letting out all the pain you'd kept inside for the last couple months.

Dean's arms held you close, lips pressed firmly into your hair, his own tears streaming down his face. Neither of you spoke--there was no need, not yet anyway.

After several minutes, you finally stepped back, wiping the tears from your face. You smiled up at him and whispered, "I love you."

You saw something flash across his face, but it was gone before you could place it. "I love you too," he murmured.

You stood to the side as Sam hugged Dean, followed by Cas. Everyone was glad to have him back, but you could see Dean was struggling--he clearly remembered every moment of being a demon...and you had no idea what kind of impact that would have on him.

"Alright guys, I think he needs some rest. He's been through a lot today," you interrupted softly.

Dean looked at you gratefully and both Sam and Cas nodded their agreement.

"Come on," you murmured, reaching out for Dean's hand.

He grabbed it and followed you to your shared bedroom. To your surprise, he stopped just outside the door. "I think I'd rather sleep in one of the other rooms."

You looked at him in confusion, but he wouldn't quite meet your gaze. "Okay," you whispered. "Whatever you'd prefer."

You followed him to a room down the hall, waiting quietly as he took off his boots before climbing into the bed.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm alright."

You knew he was most definitely not alright, but now wasn't the time to address it.

"Okay. I'll be down the hall if you need me."

He nodded, but said nothing further. He once again couldn't look at you as you left the room. Sadness laced its icy tendrils around your heart, despite the joy you felt at Dean's return to humanity.

You went to join Sam and Cas in the library, not quite wanting to be alone. You didn't want to talk either, but just being around people you loved made you feel a little bit better.

You knew Dean's road to recovery would be long, as would your own. You weren't sure what trials lay ahead of you, but you knew the two of you would make it through--you always did.

If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was how much Dean loved you--if the last few weeks taught you anything, it was that. Your own love for Dean was equally endless--there was nothing you wouldn't do for him. As cliche as it was, love really could conquer all.

[chahnniesroom]

some loves

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: some loves are too hard to bear. years after being trainees together, chan still thinks of you all the time. he has no idea that a collaboration would lead him back to you.

word count: 6.9k

tags/warnings: reader is an independent singer/songwriter, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of past injuries, a little bit of jealousy, i am still in denial that chan doesn't do lives anymore, hongjoong from ateez is in this fic

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: once again, sorry for the long time between posts. disclaimer that i do not know much about how the music/idol industry works and i did not really do much research. also i'm not an atiny so sorry if my portrayal of hongjoong is not realistic at all. also also i did a lot of the writing on a new tablet doing handwriting with a stylus to text so please forgive any typos or weird formatting! i didn't have a chance to edit much so i may have missed some things.

Chan’s in his studio when he gets the call. At first, he doesn’t even realise his phone is ringing. It’s 2am on a weekday and he’s been working away for a few hours so the rest of the world has just about faded into the background.

He’s both surprised and intrigued when he looks at the caller ID and sees Hongjoong’s name. Chan would consider Hongjoong to be a friend, but they’re not particularly close and he can’t think of a reason that would warrant this late night call.

“Hey hyung,” Hongjoong greets him briefly before getting straight to the point. “What’s your schedule like in the next few months?”

“It’s actually not too bad,” Chan replies after a moment of thought. “We’re just finalising all the music for the next album so it’ll be a bit of time before we get busy with recording and filming for the comeback. What’s up?”

“You don’t have the answer now and I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all, but would you be interested in doing a collab together?”

“A collab?” Chan repeats. “Like, ATEEZ and Stray Kids?”

“We could,” Hongjoong says reluctantly. “But actually, if you’re up for it then I was thinking more like just you and me. I have a couple tracks that we could work off of and I’ve roped in someone to help me with recording, engineering, and production.”

“Who?” Chan asks, interest piqued.

“Not sure if you’ve heard of them, they go by the name HALLA.”

Chan recognises the name instantly. When Chan had first stumbled upon HALLA one late night scrolling and listening to different independent artists, they seemed relatively unknown. However, a little research revealed that they had KOMCA credits on a number of songs for idol groups, some of which had become widely popular. Their personal work was a variety of genres and a majority of the tracks didn’t have vocals, but the ones that did had clever or thoughtful lyrics. There were a couple of different voices featured in the original songs, both of which were smooth and melodic. HALLA has a style that Chan thinks would complement Stray Kids and he’s considered reaching out to them a few times, but was always held back by something.

There was little about HALLA posted on the internet and while Chan definitely appreciates their privacy, he’s curious to meet the person behind all the songs that he enjoyed. There’s just something familiar about all their music that he can’t quite place, something that he wants more of.

“I’m in,” Chan agrees.

“You can take some time to think about it, talk to JYPE to see what their thoughts are too.”

“No need, I’m interested and I know I can convince management to support this.”

“Well that was easy,” Hongjoong says and Chan can basically hear him grinning through the phone. “And for my own pride, I’m going to pretend that you said yes the second I suggested the collab instead of when I mentioned HALLA-ssi.” Chan instantly flushes and is glad that Hongjoong can’t see him over the phone.

“It wasn’t-” Chan begins to protest.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong interrupts. “I’m also pretty thrilled to get to work with them, so I understand. Didn’t realise you were familiar with their work, but I guess a hidden gem like them can’t stay hidden for long. I’ll send some files over to you and we can organise a time to work.”

—

Chan finds it easy to work with Hongjoong and they make quick progress on the song, writing lyrics and creating a guide within a couple of weeks. Before he knows it, they’ve scheduled a time for Chan to visit KQ Entertainment to record vocals. Hongjoong knows that Chan is keen to be involved in the production and arrangement of the song too, so they also have a couple sessions booked for that, although Hongjoong teases him relentlessly about just wanting to work with HALLA. The worst part is that Chan can’t even deny it.

Hongjoong meets him at the entrance of KQ Entertainment and quickly takes him through security.

“HALLA-ssi is already in the studio,” Hongjoong explains as they wait for the elevator to arrive. “I was getting input on a track that’s been killing me for the past few days.”

“Did they help?” Chan asks, a little surprised that HALLA is involved in more than just this collaboration. He still hasn't had a chance to connect with them other than quick introductions through text a couple of days ago and he's just as excited to meet them as initially.

“Yeah!” Hongjoong grins, eyes curving into little crescents. “HALLA-ssi is amazing. She only had listen to it a couple times before she came up with suggestions on a few different ways to fix the part that I hated. I left her to finish cleaning the song up and then it’s basically ready for review.”

“How did you start working with HALLA-ssi? I’ve been meaning to try to connect with her.”

“It was actually a friend that suggested working with her. For someone who isn’t signed with a label- which I don’t know how nobody has signed her yet- she’s surprisingly well connected within the industry. I’m sure that KQ would be more than happy to have her work with us, but when I hinted at that, she didn’t seem interested.”

“Really?” Although KQ Entertainment is still one of the smaller companies in the industry, most unsigned artists would still jump at the chance to work there since they have a good reputation, especially due to ATEEZ’s popularity.

“I haven’t poked too much, it’s not really my business. I thought I might as well try. I just know that she’s amazing at her job and I’m grateful that I get to work with her at all.”

They turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the recording studio. The door is ajar and Hongjoong opens it, waving his arm forward to allow Chan to walk through first, before following closely behind.

HALLA’s sitting at the desk and the second Chan sees her face, he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n,” Chan breathes.

You look up, startled, and your eyes connect for a split second before Hongjoong crashes into Chan, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Hyung,” Hongjoong complains, unaware of Chan’s inner turmoil. “Why’d you stop?”

Chan lets out an apologetic wheeze from where he’s now trapped under Hongjoong, before resting his forehead against the ground. He needs a second to recover.

It feels like a punch to the gut to see you in front of the recording studio’s computer, fiddling with a track. You look different, but somehow it feels like Chan has been transported right back to his trainee days and all that time that the two of you had spent side by side.

It has been years since Chan last saw you. He had found out that you had left JYPE just months after Stray Kids officially debuted, but all efforts to track you down had been futile. You had changed your number and broken contact with all the other trainees. He had asked around a little bit, but everyone he talked to had been unusually cagey about the subject.

Suddenly, everything makes more sense, especially the little that he knows about HALLA.

As trainees, Chan’s favourite moments had been when you had regaled him with stories of growing up on Jeju Island. The two of you had connected early on through your shared love of the ocean. You had promised him that if he ever went to visit in his free time, you would take him on the best trails up to the Hallasan, the shield volcano, and show him incredible views from the highest point on the island. Occasionally, your parents would send you care packages and the two of you would open them hidden away in one of the vocal practice rooms, the sweet citrus of hallabong exploding in your mouths.

You had always spoken about Jeju Island so fondly, of course you would find a way to indirectly pay homage through the stage name that you chose.

“Oppa,” your voice rings out in the silence of the room. Now, Chan knows why the female voice on some of HALLA’s songs had always seemed hauntingly familiar. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” both Chan and Hongjoong say at the same time, then make eye contact with identical confused expressions.

“Hongjoong-ssi, you didn’t mention that the person you wanted to feature on the track was Channie-oppa,” you say, making it clear who you were addressing your concern to earlier.

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Hongjoong gets up slowly, dusting off his clothes and scratching at the back of his head, still looking bewildered. “I had no idea that you two knew each other, hyung mentioned he hadn’t worked with you before.”

Chan stays quiet, not sure how much you’re willing to share. Hongjoong must not know about your time with JYPE if he can’t piece together how the two of you could have met.

“Oh- I used to- We trained together back in the day,” you explain sheepishly. “I was with JYPE for a little while and all the trainees knew who Channie-oppa was. That was a long time ago though, I didn’t use the name HALLA back then.”

The five years that you trained at JYPE are more than a little while, but Chan forces himself to bite his tongue at your deliberate understatement. You don’t elaborate further and while it’s obvious that Hongjoong isn’t satisfied with your answer, he’s willing to drop the topic for now. You look relieved when he switches the subject to the song.

The three of you finish recording quickly. It shouldn’t be a surprise, the work so far with Hongjoong has been smooth so adding you to the mix has just made things easier, but Chan knows he’s a perfectionist and it often takes him an almost embarrassing number of takes before he’s satisfied. The only delay comes when Hongjoong decides he wants you to sing some of the backing vocals and resorts to actually getting on his knees and begging. Chan doesn’t go so far, but he can’t help but agree that your voice blends with the song perfectly. Of course, he also just wants to hear you sing.

You relent when Chan quietly voices his agreement and it really shouldn't make Chan feel as smug as it does.

It’s not even early enough for dinner when things are wrapped up. Chan is usually eager to finish a schedule early, but he’s reluctant to leave, taking his time packing up his belongings.

Finally, he doesn’t have a reason to stay any longer so he musters up the courage to ask.

“Do you guys want to go grab some coffee or something to eat?”

You and Hongjoong make eye contact before turning to look at Chan guiltily. His stomach churns for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” you wince. “I actually promised to help Hongjoong-ssi with an ATEEZ song and we need to go over the edits that I made before his meeting with the company later today.”

“Oh,” Chan replies, feeling a little relieved. “Right, no yeah I get it. Hongjoong actually mentioned that earlier, but I forgot. My bad.”

You offer an apologetic smile before turning to the computer, opening up a file.

“I’ll see you guys next time, then,” Chan says, starting to back out of the room.

“Of course! Thank you for your hard work and good job today!” you say brightly. Looking distracted, Hongjoong mumbles an agreement and waves goodbye. Unlike you, he’s not staring at the computer monitor though. Instead, his focus is solely on you. Even from his side profile, Chan can tell that he’s enamoured.

Honestly, Chan can’t really blame him, you look comfortable and confident, swallowed up in an oversized hoodie as you start explaining the alterations that you made to the track. Your voice is calm, but warm and you’re careful to start off by complimenting the work that Hongjoong had done previously.

Chan leaves, resolutely ignoring the twisted feeling that’s back with a vengeance and any thoughts of what the cause might be.

—

Chan can’t sleep. His thoughts are all about you, what you’ve been doing the past few years, what happened to you at JYPE that made you leave, and mostly trying to remember how and why your relationship with him slowly fell apart.

That’s the hardest part. In the darkest time of his life, when Chan had been discouraged and disheartened, you had joined JYPE with a brightness and enthusiasm that gave Chan the motivation to continue being a trainee. He had adored you. He still does.

In those last few months before the survival show had been filmed, Chan’s relationship with you had gone from being everything to nothing. It happened in the blink of an eye, and Chan had never understood what caused you to withdraw so quickly and thoroughly. The two of you had gone from spending almost all of your free time together to you avoiding him at the company, pretending not to hear when he called out your name or tried to get your attention.

The regret of letting you slip away has always eaten away at him, but now more than ever.

Of course, at the time it hadn’t felt so simple. The survival show was Chan’s first serious chance to debut, and not just that, but the weight of having eight other people’s careers depending on his leadership took a toll on all his other relationships. Your absence in his life still hurt, but Chan had lots of practice losing people. He had coped in the way that worked best in the past, throwing himself headlong into producing, training, anything to keep himself from wallowing in his feelings.

Chan doesn’t have any schedules for today, but he still heads to the company. He knows this isn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but he doesn’t know anything else.

When he arrives, Chan just barely manages to catch a glimpse of a few familiar faces. He calls out before he can think better of it, jogging slightly to catch up. Sana, Momo, and Mina watch curiously as he approaches. He knows that Twice also aren’t in a busy period of the year, so he doesn’t feel guilty delaying them.

“Sorry to bother you all. Sana-noona, I was just wondering if we could chat?”

Sana makes brief eye contact with the rest of the girls before agreeing and waving them to go ahead of her. She follows behind Chan as he leads them into his studio, clearly interested in determining the reason behind this atypical meet up.

“What’s up, Channie?” she asks once the door is closed behind them.

Chan tries to think of the best way to start, not wanting to just outright ask, but not knowing how to subtly steer the conversation into the right direction. Finally, he abandons trying to be casual and just blurts out, “Do you remember Y/n?”

“Of course I do,” Sana says, sounding amused at the sudden mention of you. “You both had reputations for being veteran trainees. I mean, other than Jihyo.”

“I was always surprised that she never debuted,” Chan admits. “I just thought it would happen eventually and I was so shocked to find out that she had left. I didn’t- I don’t understand why she gave up on something she wanted so badly.”

“Give up?” Sana asks, sounding like she’s offended on your behalf. “Why would you say it like that?”

“What do you mean? It was like she was there one day and gone the next, I just assumed that she had enough and quit. Nobody seemed to know anything about it. I never found out why and it’s been kind of killing me.”

“You didn’t hear what happened?”

“What- something happened? To her?” Chan swallows hard, suddenly feeling unwell.

“It- I thought that you of all people would know-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, but- you never talked to her about it? You knew her better than any of us.”

“Noona, I didn’t know that she was gone until months later. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it to me, I never reached out at first. When I finally did, her number had been changed. What was I supposed to do?”

“I- It’s better if you were to hear it from her. I don’t know the full story and you know how things can be distorted through gossip. And you especially must know how dangerous that can be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really have no clue? The two of you were inseparable…”

“Please,” Chan pleads.

“You know how it is in the industry, you were so close, of course there were rumours…”

It suddenly clicks.

“But we were just friends! And the dating ban-”

“Chan, you know nobody actually sticks to those, right?”

“But really, we were never-”

“I believe you,” Sana says, carefully. “But you know that to management that it doesn’t really matter whether or not anything was actually going on. To them it’s all about the optics. A perceived relationship is just as dangerous as an actual one.”

“Management…” Chan repeats, his mind racing. “They never mentioned anything to me though.”

“You never found it suspicious? You two are extremely close and out of the blue she suddenly stops talking to you, then right after the two of you stop hanging out, you’re chosen for the survival show? Someone must have talked to her at some point. Maybe not management, but for sure someone.”

“You think that’s why it took so long for me to debut?” Chan asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“It was a liability,” Sana explains. “To have a dating scandal so early on? Neither of your careers would survive. It’s painful and a terrible part of the industry but it’s true.”

“And.. Why she left, you know about that too?” Chan pleads.

“I think I’ve said too much already. I know that it’s hard, but some things are really personal.” She pauses for a moment. “What brought this on, anyway? You haven’t mentioned Y/nnie in years.”

“I can’t say much, but I- I saw her today, got to talk to her, found out what she’s been up to.” Sana gasps. Chan continues. “It was so weird to see her after so long. In the back of my mind, I had always wondered, but…”

“I’m glad that you two got to reconnect,” Sana says gently. “The two of you cared about each other a lot, that much was obvious. Talk to her, I think at the very least you’ll be able to find peace about what happened.”

“Noona-” Chan reaches out and pulls Sana into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry that it took so long for you to find out.”

—

A few days later, Hongjoong schedules another session to work on the song. Leading up to it, Chan is both looking forward to it and nervous, not sure what to expect. Although he still really wants to know what happened to you all those years ago, he’s scared about what he might learn and any part he might have had in it.

After a sleepless night, he ends up arriving almost 15 minutes early. This time, Hongjoong isn’t waiting at the building’s entrance. Instead he had let him know a few days before that Chan could just sign himself in and had sent him the name and location of the studio that was booked. When Chan reaches it, he can make out conversation from inside.

“HALLA,” Hongjoong can be heard through the studio doors, which aren’t fully shut. His tone is petulant and much more casual than it was previously. Chan wonders how much time the two of you have spent together between then and now and he almost misses the next thing that Hongjoong says. “You never told me that you were a trainee before.”

That stops Chan in his tracks, interested in how you’ll respond.

“It was a long time ago.” Your voice is faint. You’re still nice, but Chan can tell that your voice is stiffer than usual. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

This time, Hongjoong doesn’t let it go.

“What happened?” he prods.

“Just drop it,” you warn him. “It’s the past, forget I told you in the first place. Nothing ever came of it anyway.”

“Y/n-” Hongjoong changes tactics, the nagging tone replaced with a quieter, more serious one. You sigh.

“It didn’t work out. Obviously. I’m just not idol material.”

“Oh come on, I don’t believe that for a second. Your producing is good enough that I know for sure you’ve been getting offers to work with more companies than just KQ. When you direct during recording, you can hit every note without any warm up or practice. And I’ve heard your original songs, you must have been considered for both the position of lead rapper and lead singer as a trainee because there’s no way that anybody would let your talent go to waste.” Hongjoong is breathing hard by the end of his rant and Chan can see that this is something that has been bothering him for a while.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong-oppa.” Your voice is gentle, like you’re trying to comfort him. “I’m happy with what I have right now. Really. I’m grateful for all the freedom I have. Getting to work on any project I want and experiment with my music without having to deal with the bureaucracy and politics of the industry? Having that independence is precious to me. I wanted to be an idol for a long long time. But even though that specific plan I had didn’t work out, it doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I’m doing.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a while.

“Do you think that if you had the opportunity to debut as an idol now, you would?” he finally asks.

“Oppa, it’s not possible. I can’t dance, I’m too old-” you protest.

“No no, just hypothetically. Like if someone walked into the room and handed you a contract and said that if you signed it in an hour then you’d be able to debut.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“I think I left that dream behind, I don’t know if I want to go down that path again. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says after another pause. “I shouldn’t have questioned you so much, you shouldn’t have to justify your decisions to me.”

“No, it’s fine. It seems strange, right? For me to be an artist in Seoul and not want to get signed, it's only natural for you to be curious. But I learned a lot when I was a trainee and I learned even more after that and I can say with certainty that this is what I want.”

Chan takes that opportunity to knock on the studio door and push it open.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, as if he wasn’t just eavesdropping on their conversation and purposely chose when to cut in. “Sorry, I’m a little bit late.”

“Hey, no problem man,” Hongjoong says. “We haven’t had a chance to do anything yet, so you’re right on time.”

“Good to see you,” you chime in. “I think this should be pretty quick so let’s get started!”

As you predicted, it doesn’t take long before a majority of the song is finished. Normally, Chan would be keen to stay involved until the very last detail is finalised, but he trusts you and at the end of this day, it’s Hongjoong’s song so he’s happy to give him the final say.

At the end of the session, Chan once again uses the opportunity to try to catch you alone. The two of you are side by side, packing your bags and Chan asks if you have any plans for the rest of the day. You confirm that you're available and Chan is about to suggest that the two of you take the time to catch up when Hongjoong interrupts.

“Oh, Y/n-ah,” he says. “I was actually hoping to get your input on something and I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier. Can you please stick around for a bit? Sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong sounds so sincere that Chan almost doesn’t feel annoyed that he’s stealing all of your time and attention. Almost, because at the end of the day, Chan’s only human. Even though he knows he has no right to feel possessive over you, he can’t stop the petty jealousy that bubbles up inside of him. At this point, there’s no denying the emotion.

Just like the previous session, he leaves alone, heading directly to the studio. Hours later, his breath catches when he checks his phone and sees that you’ve texted him.

[Received - 8:04pm]

Channie-oppa~

[Received - 8:04pm]

This is Y/nnie

[Received - 8:05pm]

Sorry about earlier, I have a contract with KQ Entertainment and work comes first :/

[Received - 8:09pm]

But I’m free now! You still interested in catching up?

Chan stares at the messages until it feels like they’re burned into his retinas. Logically, he knew that you had his number, the two of you were in a group chat that Hongjoong had set up, but this was your first time messaging him privately. The first time you had reached out in years. A precious opportunity that he never thought that he would have. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

He’s also shocked to see you texting so casually. Although the two of you have been comfortable in person, he wasn’t sure that it would translate to one-on-one conversation.

[Sent - 8:10pm]

Hey Y/n!

[Sent - 8:11pm]

No worries at all, I understand. I’m the same way too

[Sent - 8:13pm]

I still wanna meet up… but I’m all the way back in Gangdong-gu 😅 It’d be a bit of a trek for you if you're still at KQ

[Received - 8:13pm]

Gangdong-gu?

[Received - 8:14pm]

Ohh JYPE

[Received - 8:14pm]

My bad, forgot that you guys moved

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Yeahhh

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Headed straight back to the company after we were done, sorry

[Received - 8:18pm]

Well… If you’re willing to wait then I don’t mind. KQ is close to a metro station anyway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

Wait, really?

[Sent - 8:18pm]

No no no, don’t take the subway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

I’ll send a driver. They’re gonna pick you up in 20 min

[Received - 8:19pm]

Wowow

[Received - 8:19pm]

Private driver?

[Received - 8:20pm]

You’re a real superstar now haha

[Sent - 8:21pm]

alsfjshkafs noooooooo

[Sent - 8:21pm]

It’s just faster

[Sent - 8:21pm]

and safer

[Received - 8:22pm]

I’m not complaining

[Received - 8:22pm]

but I’m going to get your autograph when I see you

[Received - 8:23pm]

If I sell it then I can probably afford my own private driver 🤭

[Sent - 8:24pm]

Knew it

[Sent - 8:25pm]

You’re just using me for my fame

[Received - 8:26pm]

Ah you got me this time

[Received - 8:26pm]

*Your fame, your talent, and your good looks

[Received - 8:27pm]

Even tho you were the one that said you wanted to meet up

[Received - 8:27pm]

Hmmm maybe you’re the one using me?

Chan listens to his phone as it continues to vibrate from where it’s lodged in between two of the couch cushions after he threw it across to the opposite side of the room. His face is buried in his hands and flaming red. He feels both giddy and terribly embarrassed.

Chan’s no stranger to flirting, he’s experienced his fair share being on either side through interactions with the members and with Stay, but he forgot how flustered he was being on the receiving end of your teasing. The part he never understood is that your playful tone always gave way to sincerity. Even when the two of you would joke around, he could always tell that you meant every comment that you made about Chan being talented or attractive and that flattered him almost as much as it baffled him.

[Received - 8:32pm]

?? Speechless that I caught on?

[Received - 8:36pm]

I think your driver has arrived… Otherwise I’m being kidnapped

[Received - 8:40pm]

Don’t think I would survive a horror film… I got into the car with no questions asked

[Received - 8:42pm]

It was nice knowing you I guess

When he realises how much time has passed, Chan grabs his phone and runs down to the back entrance of the company. Luckily you haven’t arrived yet and he takes the time to reply to your messages.

[Sent - 8:53pm]

Sorry, lost track of time

[Sent - 8:53pm]

They’ll drop you off at the back door, I’ll meet you there so you don’t have to get signed in or anything

[Received - 8:54pm]

Don’t think you’re getting away with ignoring my other texts

[Received - 8:55pm]

But thanks

[Received - 8:55pm]

Is this back door, the famous one that only allows in authorised people?

[Received - 8:55pm]

I’m honoured

Chan rolls his eyes at your cheesy reference and is in the middle of typing up a response when he sees the car pull up. You step out cautiously, then brighten when you see where Chan’s propping up the door.

“Hey,” Chan greets you. “Glad that you made it safely.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, looking around curiously as Chan leads you to an elevator that takes you to the rest of the building. “So this is the new and improved JYP Entertainment. I’d say that it looks the same as before, but I never got the chance to come in.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he walks. “I mean it’s pretty nice, but at the end of the day a practice room is a practice room and that’s where we spend most of our time.”

“Hmm I think we might have to agree to disagree on that one. You have your own studio don’t you?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s technically a shared one, but practically I’m the only one that uses it unless we’re out of the country for a long time,” Chan confirms.

“Seems a lot better than what we used to have! Do you remember when we used to cram ourselves into that tiny room that barely even fit two chairs and a table?”

“I almost forgot about that, it was so terrible! In the summer it would get so hot that we’d keep the door open-”

“And then someone would come yell at us because we’d be playing music too loud-”

“I remember begging management to install a portable air conditioner on multiple occasions, but they always refused.”

“Of course! Even if they weren’t so stingy, there weren’t any windows leading outside in there, how could they install it?”

“Is that why? I always thought they just wanted us to suffer.”

“That too,” you giggle for a moment, before your smile fades. “But they weren’t totally unreasonable. Management has a different perspective than us, sometimes they know better than us because of their understanding of the industry. They can see things that we don’t.”

It’s clear that you’re no longer talking about air conditioning anymore. A lump seems to have formed in Chan’s throat when he recalls his conversation with Sana. Luckily, the two of you have just arrived and Chan forces himself to smile.

“We’re here,” he says, opening the door and motioning for you to enter ahead of him. “Welcome to Channie’s Room!”

“It’s cute!” you say as you step in. “Very… neat. It’s actually more spacious than it looks.”

“Oh,” Chan says, faltering in his steps for a second. “You- you’ve seen my studio?”

“In case you didn’t realise, you go live every week from said studio. I think at this point everyone in the K-pop industry and every K-pop fan has seen it,” you tease.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t- I wasn’t sure how much you kept up with that kind of stuff,” Chan stammers.

“K-pop or do you mean specifically Stray Kids?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Either I guess," Chan shrugs.

"I will admit that it took me a while to get back into it," you say slowly. "I wasn't... in the best mindset after I left." Chan stays quiet, sensing that you're not quite finished. "I know that I disappeared and I am sorry for not reaching out. I wanted to, but I also didn't know how. I know that I hurt you. That it was cruel to avoid you, not reply to your messages, ignore your calls. I had my reasons why, but it doesn't excuse the pain that I caused, and I'm sorry for that too."

“I think,” Chan swallows hard. “I think that the most difficult part was that for the longest time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I asked Sana about it finally, after I saw you again. And I just felt so stupid to realise that it was obvious to everyone except me."

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wanted to tell you, of course I wanted to. But I also knew you. If I had told you that us being together was preventing your debut-”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Chan finishes your sentence for you, starting to understand. “I would have done anything to keep you by my side.”

"Even if it meant throwing away your career," you say softly. "I couldn't let you do that to yourself. You worked so hard, how could I live with being the reason that you were stuck in the training rooms? You belong on stage, making music.”

"The part that I still don’t get though is why you left? You should have been able to debut as well, I know it."

“Ah,” you say wistfully. You look around and grab onto the pillow that’s on the couch beside you, fidgeting with it as you figure out what to say next. “You know, I actually was supposed to debut.”

“What? How come I never heard about it?” Chan feels a pang in his chest. All these years ago, the two of you had promised that the other would be the first person that they would tell if they ever found out that they had the chance to debut. It seemed that neither of them had kept their promise.

“It was supposed to be a secret project. JYP wanted to see how successful a surprise debut announcement would be. You should have seen the NDAs that they made us sign.” You shake your head, letting out a huff of air. “It turned out to be a good decision because it meant they could cancel it without anyone knowing that we existed in the first place.”

"Who was in the group?" Chan asks.

"There were five of us. I think you know all of them, Sumin, Ryujin, Sojin, and Hyowon," you list. You're right, Chan is either familiar with or has heard of all the girls that you mention. It doesn't make sense though, the group was filled with talented individuals and Chan can't think of any reason strong enough to lead to disbandment. Even more baffling is that of the five of you, only Ryujin ended up staying at the company long enough to join the lineup for another group.

"And they just cancelled it out of nowhere?"

“No... It was- I know that for any idol, preparing for debut is tough, but I think that in some ways, it’s especially brutal for the girl groups," you say instead. Chan doesn't question you further, knowing that you must have a point that you're trying to make.

“How so?” Chan has an idea, he’s seen what the female trainees went through, the differences in how they were evaluated and criticised. But he wants to hear it from you, wants to understand what you’ve been through.

“The visual aspect feels like it’s more heavily emphasised than our talent or skills. We were measured for our music video outfits the second they finalised the concept. It was really early on, but at the time I thought it was so exciting and fun that I didn’t question it. I think that all of us were so thrilled by the thought of debuting that we didn't think anything of it. We did our final fittings for it a few weeks before filming and they had made them all a size too small, everything was just a little bit too tight. They didn’t outright say it, but it was implied that they weren’t going to alter them. It was a choice to lose weight or our chance to debut was gone. We were devastated and angry and eventually just resigned. If that's what it took then I would do it. We dieted like crazy for the time leading up to filming,” you laugh, but it's in disbelief, the sound is hollow.

Paired with what you’re saying, it makes Chan want to burn the whole world down. He doesn't say anything, not sure if he can even open his mouth without letting his rage escape, something that you don't deserve.

“We were practising, like always," you continue. "There was a tricky step that needed to be fixed by the next day when we’d be recording, a flip that we hadn't quite mastered. I was the smallest one on the team, so I was the one being flipped. It must have been like 3 or 4 in the morning, we were all tired, hungry, and nervous about filming. Honestly, I don't quite remember what happened, it was all a blur. There was just this feeling that something went wrong and then pain."

You roll up the pants on your left leg and show off the skin there. Chan has to hold back a gasp at the sight. Even though it’s long healed, the scarring is extensive and obvious. Chan can't imagine how much it must have hurt.

“I broke my ankle in two places and sprained my wrist. I couldn't believe it, five years of my life just gone in an instant. It took months before I could walk and even longer before I could dance again. Even now, I can't dance anywhere close to the way that I used to," you say with a watery smile. “Sojinnie had a concussion from the fall and Suminnie dislocated her shoulder, I must have knocked into them or fallen onto them or something. What could we do? Three out of the five of us were out of commission, there was no time and no budget for a group that hadn’t even debuted to find replacements or re-record and re-film everything. I woke up after surgery and they told me that they were sorry, but my contract with the company was over. That someone had helped me pack up all my things in the dorm. I went back to Jeju-do as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

"I- I'm sorry that I didn't know," Chan says, clearing his throat roughly when his voice breaks partway through the sentence. " I wish that I could have been there, to help or comfort you. I should have-"

"Oppa," you respond gently. "It's okay. I didn't tell anybody what happened and the company also kept things quiet. I'm glad you didn't find out at the time. You had other, more important things to focus on, I didn't want to distract you from that."

"You're not a distraction," Chan says incredulously. "You're important to me, I would have dropped everything to be with you in such a difficult time."

"And that's exactly why I couldn't tell you. You've always been too good to me, Channie-oppa," you sniffle. "Look at you now! I'm so always proud when I think of how far you've come."

Chan lifts a trembling hand and carefully cups your face, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that has started making its way down your cheek. He hears your breathing hitch, but you don't object to his touch. If anything, you melt into it.

Chan takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, bringing you close. The gesture breaks the dam of tears that you must have been holding back. Chan rocks the two of you back and forth gently, just letting you cry and trying to surreptitiously wipe away his own tears. It takes a few minutes before you calm, taking huge shuddering breaths that break Chan's heart almost as much as your sobs had.

"I'm sorry," you say with a voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no," Chan reassures you. "There's no need to apologise. Are you feeling better now?"

You nod slowly, head still pressed against Chan's chest.

"I think- I think I just missed you. I always thought it would get easier, not having you in my life, but it never did."

At your words, Chan can't help his arms from tightening, squeezing you close.

"I finally found you again," he says. "And this time, I promise that I won't ever let you go."

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[disgustingtwitches]

A ROSE IN HARLEM

You're stuck in a romcom with your new asshole neighbor, Simon Riley

Masterlist

PART 2

I've got it bad (and that ain't good)

***

You have a ghost in your place. It follows you from room to room. The stench of smoke lingers in the air long after you think it should have dissipated, curling around you like an unseen presence. Shadows play tricks at the corners of your vision—on the fire escape, on the stairs that lead up to your place. There’s a persistent, nagging feeling of being watched, though when you turn to look, there’s never anyone there. And then the dreams. Oh God, the dreams. They leave you breathless, your chest heaving, your skin damp with sweat. You wake up disoriented, heart racing as if you've run miles.

“Astral projection,” 

Ishta declares, as if it’s the most obvious explanation in the world. She’s holding your chin up, dabbing setting powder onto your face. You sigh, exasperated. Why are all the people in your life so unserious?

She shakes her head, undeterred by your skepticism, and rifles through your makeup bag. 

“No, he doesn’t seem like the type to do that.”

You raise a brow, but she’s already leaning in again, biting her lip in concentration as she carefully fills in your eyebrows. 

“I wouldn’t put it past him to use the O method, though.” 

She adds, almost too casually.

“The what?”

“Oh, you know. When you, uh…” 

She pulls back just enough to mimic a jerking motion with her hand, her bracelets clinking together.

“Ishta.”

Her grin widens, unapologetic, her frenulum piercing glinting as she flashes her teeth. 

“I’m serious! It’s like, sex magic or something. It’s doing, uh,”

She makes the jerking motion again.

“But with intention. Picturing what you want.”

You stare at her, deadpan. 

“I think that’s just called masturbating, Ishta.”

She clicks her teeth, as if you're being ridiculous.

“No! I promise it’s different!”

You narrow your eyes, but her conviction doesn’t waver.

“It’s about manifesting your future.” 

She says, voice sweet as she brushes out your brows. 

“That's great. Maybe he should find someone who wants to be in his future.” 

You mutter, your voice more defensive than you intended.

Ishta’s grin widens.

 “He already did.”

You roll your eyes.

“You're being delusional.” 

“You're in denial.” 

She leans back, tilting her head to assess her handiwork. You hate the way her words settle into the space between you, like she’s unearthed something you’ve been working hard to bury. Something you've been trying to hide from yourself.

“Perfect,” 

She says, brushing off her hands. 

“And if you keep avoiding him, you’ll just make him work harder. Men like that don’t back down easily.”

You frown, her words a revelation you knew before but didn’t want to accept. She holds your hands, brushing your knuckles with her thumbs.

“If you don't want him, I'll happily take him off your hands.”

She prods, hoping to get a reaction. 

“Okay. That's fine, I don't care.”

You shrug, not taking the bait. She raises an eyebrow, mischief dances in her dark eyes.

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

She's not buying it though. You sigh,

“I don't care.”

You insist, not sure who you're trying to convince. 

“Well, if you’re sure… I’ll see if he wants to come to kickboxing with me. Bet he’d look great sweating it out in a tank top.”

You try to hold back a smile, but it's too late, she saw it. She raises her eyebrows and bites back a laugh.

“Your hands are sweaty. God, you're so easy to read.”

“I hate you.” 

You pull your hands away, wiping them on your dress. 

“Hate me all you want, you still like him.”

“I don't like him. He's just hot.” 

“Ok, you think he's hot. And he obviously likes you too.”

You point a finger at her, 

“No, he just wants to fuck me.”

You correct her. She sighs and rolls her eyes. 

“Fine, so what? You need a good dicking anyway. You think he's hot, and he wants to fuck, so do it!” 

“I am not fucking my neighbor.” 

“You two have chemistry!”

She says, fiddling with the hemline of your dress.

“Insulting each other is not chemistry, Ishta.”

You push her hands away playfully.

“Wanting to rip his head off is not sexy.”

“Tell that to a praying mantis.”

She simply retorts, picking up a mirror and some eyeliner. You open your mouth to say something but are caught off guard once you process what she said. A laugh escapes you.

“See? Not even denying it. Admit it,”

She simpers while lining her eyes. 

“The tension, the sparring—it's hot.”

“It's vexing,”

You watch as she flicks her wrist to draw a perfect wing. 

“He vexes me.”

She closes her eyes, letting the liner dry.

“You know what rhymes with vex?”

“Come off it, please.”

“I will once you get on it.” 

You groan, swatting her arm while she cackles.

“Be serious.”

She tucks away her eyeliner and swipes some lipgloss on. 

“I'm very serious, this is a dire situation. You need 10cc of his dick stat.” 

You stand, pulling down your too-short dress and grabbing your bag, ignoring her vulgarity. 

“Come on, let's go before we miss happy hour.”

She gives herself a once-over before slipping on her heels. She saunters to the door, keys jingling in her hands. 

“You know, the male praying mantis can finish the mating process without a head.” 

•

You've been ignoring him. 

Every morning when you pass by in the foyer. Practically running past him in the hallway. Rushing to close the elevator door when you see him coming. You don't even blast your music anymore. As unseen as he can make himself be, it's like you have a god-damned sixth sense of when he's near, scurrying away as soon as your hackles raise.

It irks him. 

He thinks about picking up the drill again, making holes at the shared wall where he knows your bedroom is. Seeing your face twisted up in anger, spitting curses at him, the daggers you shoot at him. It stirs something inside him, something dark and primal—thoughts he'd never want you to know, or anyone, really.

He'd be happy to lose sleep if that meant you'd give him that look again, like you could kill him where he stood.The thought of your hands tightening around his neck, fingers digging into his skin, eyes wide with rage, your arms trembling with the effort it takes to hold him there—he's found himself finishing to the idea a concerning amount of times. 

He needs to call in the cavalry.

***

Kyle makes a face while he finishes his beer.

“You asked her ‘if she needed good dick’? Ever the charmer, LT.”

Johnny shrugs, shredding up his paper coaster.

“It's a valid question.”

“Of course you think that,”

Kyle waves down the bartender for a refill. 

“You’re a dog.”

Price ignores the two, fully facing Simon.

“Don't terrorize the poor girl, won't do you any good.”

“Woman. She is a woman.”

Kyle interrupts. That gets an unamused look from the captain. 

“Yes, woman. You can't just keep pushing her buttons, this isn't primary school. You've got to try something else. At least take her out before asking to fuck her again.”

Johnny chimes in. 

“Nah, she likes to get riled up. I vote for hammering the wall again. Worked like a charm last time.”

Kyle sneers.

“Of course you'd say that, you like when women scream at you, you debauched lunatic.”

Simon doesn't linger on the fact that he and Johnny share the same type in that regard. 

“Aye, I like a passionate woman.”

Johnny’s smile remains unfaltering, foolish, his eyes going dreamy, like he’s imagining having a fight with his bird right then and there—probably picturing her throwing something at his head for good measure. He and Kyle start to bicker, both too hard-headed for their own good.

Simon goes quiet, swirling his glass, eyes glazed over that signals he's blocking out the world around him before he loses temper. 

“Enough.”

Price growls, sharp and final. He was always protective of Simon—even when it was his own sergeants getting into it. John addresses Simon, talking to him in that way that brings him back to reality. 

“If she's avoiding you, it's because you pushed too hard. You don't fix that by pushing harder.” 

Simon snorts, thinking of how Captain bullied his way into his girl's life. She is soft though, pliable. No bark or bite. Not like his girl at all. 

“And what do you suggest? Flowers and poetry?”

“If it works, why not?”

Kyle answers, ever the lover boy. It's so easy for him to say. So easy for all of them. It grates on Simon's nerves. Not like Simon tried to pursue someone often, he doesn't have the patience for it, barely has the desire. 

He stands abruptly, chair scraping the floor. 

“Right.”

His voice is flat, face blank. He's halfway out the door when Kyle calls out to him, 

“Good luck, mate.”

He doesn't respond, letting the door swing shut while he steps onto the sidewalk, lighting a cigarette. 

“Fucking useless.”

He mutters, though he's not sure if he means his teammates or himself. 

***

He knows he should feel bad about this. Watching you. He avoids the word stalking, settles on something softer—surveilling. Doesn't sound as sinister. 

He likes watching you. He wealses his way into your Instagram, because a private page isn't stopping him from seeing you.

You post photos from your weekend nights out—bathroom selfies with friends, smiling and carefree in bars he'd never step foot in. You're pretty when you smile, almost as pretty as you pout. You wear a small dress out on the town. Something he could easily slide a hand under while you are distracted. 

He likes your sense of humor. 

He watches as you take pictures of new installments at your exhibition. Today, a small clay figure of a woman on horseback captioned,

“A hot new bombshell enters the villa”

He keeps track of other things too. Your cycle. Not in a creepy way, not exactly, but you make it very obvious when you're ovulating. Stories playfully carnal with captions like,"Raw, next question.” He takes note of it, filing it away, making sure he knows exactly when the window opens.

And during one of the hottest weeks of the summer, he decides it's the perfect time. 

He's been building up to this of course, tugging off his hoodie after his morning runs so you see him sweaty and panting while you walk past in the foyer. He doesn't mind showing a bit of skin, putting on a show for his girl. As long as he gets to see those shameful little peeks you take. Eyes unwillingly darting from the floor to his arms then back to the floor. 

And he waits. 

Waits until you put your guard down a little. Your shoulders don't tense up as much when he walks by. You stop glancing over your shoulder as often. You even start playing your music each weekend again, confident he won't come knocking on your door. 

***

It's hot. Too hot. The heat wave that stretched out to over a week now. It's got him agitated, irritable. Impatient. 

So he heads to the elevator and down to the basement. She doesn't even turn when the elevator dings, bent over in some slutty little shorts while loading up a dryer. He stands by the elevator, watching. Tucks away the anger that bubbles up when he thinks of someone else coming down and seeing her like this. He'd never let that happen. 

She jumps when she turns around.

“Jesus!”

Then, as always, you try to scurry away. But he planned for this, blocking her only way out. 

“Hiding from me?”

“No, why would I do that?”

“Too busy for me, then?” 

That gets her to narrow her eyes at him. 

“Why would I even think of making time for you?”

There she is. His pretty girl. 

“Don't wanna see me anymore? Thought we were getting along.”

“You thought wrong. Thought I made that clear.”

She tries stepping around him, he mirrors her, broad frame unyielding. 

“Not clear enough.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“I don't want you bothering me. That clear enough?”

“I don't believe you.” 

He says plainly. 

“You don't believe me?”

Her irritation grows. He sees it in the way her jaw clenches. 

“You're a bad liar.”

“So I've been told.”

She doesn't even look at his face, just straight ahead to his chest. Like looking at his face would push her over the edge. 

“You looked nice last night.”

“When did you-how? Nevermind, don't answer that. I need to go.”

Another attempt to pass him. Another block. She grits her teeth. 

“You're aggravating.” 

“So I've been told.”

He mocks her. She shoves at him—a gentle nudge really for his stature. His mind blanks for a moment. When's the last time a woman has touched him, he thinks, even like this?

He lets her slip by, nearly reaching the elevator. Nearly. 

Then he hooks a finger into her belt loop and tugs. 

“Where's my good girl?”

His hold keeps her in place. She still tries to pull away, reaching for the elevator button. 

“I'm not your girl.” 

Her fingertips graze the button when he tugs again, pulling her off balance, close enough for him to catch the faintest whiff of her perfume. 

“Simon!”

She grabs at his wrist—not even able to fully wrap around him. 

“Name sounds so nice coming out that pretty mouth.”

He mutters, more to herself than to her. His other hand pulls at her waistband. She's all protests and curses that he tunes out, too busy running a finger along the inside of the top of her shorts. 

Everytime she half-heartedly pushes at his chest or scratches his arms, he tugs her closer, polishing the button of her shorts with his thumbs, fingers dipping just under her waistband, firm grip keeping her in place. 

“Tell you what,” 

He finally says, eyes still locked on where his hands are.

She pauses, her defiance flickering for a moment. 

“Say you don't want this, and I'll stop.”

She pauses. 

For a long time, she stares at him, her lips parting slightly like she's about to speak, but no words come out. Simon doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Unnervingly, doesn’t even blink. His stillness makes her unnerved, he can see it in her eyes. 

Eventually, he gets bored of waiting for her answer. He casually tugs at her tank top, looking down her shirt. She snatches the fabric away from him, holding it close to her chest, scandalized as if she wasnt just contemplating on fucking him. 

“They're pretty.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

This time when she steps back and he tugs at her shorts, she comes to him without much resistance. 

“On paper? Nothing.” 

When she puts her arms down, he still stares at her chest.

“For some reason, I don't believe that.” 

He hums in acknowledgment, casually flicking at a raised nipple poking out her top. She slaps his hand away, hard.

“Would you stop that?”

She sternly admonishes him. He rests a hand on her hip, the pad of his thumb tracing lazy circles on the denim. 

“Why aren't you leaving?”

“You won't let me!”

“Yeah,”

His murmurs, devoid of remorse. 

“Elevator’s broke anyways.”

She snaps her head to her only way out. 

“I just saw you use it.” 

“I broke it.” 

He gently turns her by the shoulders, coaxing her to the lift.

“Try it.” 

She looks at him, unsure. His face is infuriatingly neutral, offering no hint of a joke. Slowly, she steps forward and presses the button.

The doors slide open, smooth and functional. Relief floods her chest, her path clear. She steps inside, pressing the button for her floor.

Before the doors can fully close, his boot wedges between them. The mechanism stutters, the doors bouncing off the leather before sliding open again. 

“See? Broken.”

He steps between the doors, keeping them open, effectively trapping her into an even smaller space. 

“You think you're funny.”

“Hilarious.”

He holds himself back from grabbing her face when her nostrils flare. 

“What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Want you to play nice.”

The words roll off his tongue so smoothly, so audaciously, it takes her a moment to process. His gaze doesn’t waver, steady and unrelenting, locking her in place as effectively as the metal walls around them.

“Play nice?” 

She echoes, her voice sharp, incredulous.

“Yeah,” 

He says, a slight tilt of his head, as though he’s genuinely surprised she’s asking. His thumb brushes over his knuckles, a lazy, practiced motion that only adds to her irritation.

“And what the hell does that mean?”

He steps closer, closing what little space remains between them, the heat of him almost suffocating. “Means stop running, angel.”

The button clicks under his thumb, their floor lighting up. The doors slide shut with a groan, and he doesn’t look at her. Just faces forward like nothing happened. The lift jolts, shuddering upward. She presses herself against the wall, her movements awkward, trying to find a place in the tiny box where his heat doesn’t reach her.

“Thought I told you to stop running.”

He warns, staring straight ahead. His hand reaches out, clamps onto the back of her neck. Not rough, not quite gentle, but enough to stop her breath. She squirms away from him. It's enough to make his blood boil. 

All this planning. All this waiting. If he lets her get away this time, he won't get another chance. 

He waits for the elevator to slide perfectly between floors before hitting the emergency stop button. The jolt is harsh, the sudden silence worse.

“What are you doing?” 

She asks, the words tumbling out. 

“Making sure you listen this time.”

The quiet hum of the stopped lift vibrates between them, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of her breathing. She presses her back harder against the wall, but there’s nowhere to go. His hand grabs her face. It’s not rough, but there’s no softness in the gesture either. His thumb brushes along her jaw. 

“Think you owe me an apology.”

His voice is low, harsh, almost mean.

“What?”

“Ignoring me all this time. And for what? What did I do?”

“You-”

He cuts her off, pushing two fingers into her mouth. 

“Didn't do anything. Suck.”

She bats her lashes at him, wide eyes looking up at him, and wraps her lips around his fingers. 

“Nothing.” 

Slowly, he slides his fingers in and out her mouth. 

“Now look at us. Can't go on like this, only gets us in a mood. Is that what you want?” 

He pulls his fingers out of her mouth and shoves them down her shorts, rolling her clit between his fingers.

“All pent up. No good for either of us.”  

He leans down to murmur in her ear, watching as she melts under his touch.

As she opens her mouth to retort, he uses his other hand to stick another thick finger in her mouth.

“None of that.”

A loud beep from the intercom elevator interrupts their moment. She panics, trying to squirm away from him, pushing at his arms.

“Hello?” 

A voice comes through the speaker.

Simon shuffles closer to her, practically pinning her against the corner of the elevator, slipping slick fingers into her. 

“Yeah, just pressed the button by accident.” 

“Alright. No problem.” 

The voice on the other end replies before there is a click and they are alone again.

He watches as her eyes fill with panic and embarrassment. He feels for her, he didn't want this to happen here. Wanted to take her somewhere proper, like her bed, or bent over his counter.

The elevator suddenly jolts back into motion.

“Relax. There's no cameras here.” 

He tries to calm her, pulling away and slipping his fingers out of her wetness before popping them into his mouth. 

The elevator dings, and he steps out first, unhurried, as though nothing unusual had happened. A neighbor passes by, her gaze shifting from him to his girl trailing behind, her concern clear in the way her brow furrows.

"Everything alright?" 

The neighbor asks, her voice hesitant, probing.

His girl’s breath catches, her answer quick but unsteady. 

“Mhm. All good.”

Her tone betrays her. Too high. Too quick. The neighbor lingers for a second too long, glancing between them, before the doors slide closed, cutting off any chance for further questioning.

He walks ahead, straight to her door. She follows, curling into herself like if she made herself small enough, she could just disappear. 

He stops just short of her door. When he finally turns, his eyes lock onto hers. Her eyes bounce between him and her door.

“What are you doing?” 

“Not done. Think I’m gonna let my girl go home like this?”

Her lips part, like she might argue, but she hesitates, biting down on her lower lip instead. Her fingers curl around the doorknob. She turns it, the latch clicking softly.

The door creaks open, a darkened room greeting them on the other side. She steps over the threshold but stops, half-turning toward him. Her body is halfway in, halfway out, caught in the tension of indecision.

“Go inside.” 

He says, his voice quiet but firm. She steps further inside, her back to him now. When she hesitates again, he walks forward, using his body to herd her into her place. 

“Nice place.” 

He kicks off his shoes and flops on the couch, it squeaks under him. A small flimsy thing. He'll get her something nicer when this one inevitably breaks from bending her over the arm too many times. 

“Sit.”

Back in the comfort of her own home, she regains a little confidence, mumbling something under her breath while moving towards him. 

“Didn't catch that angel, say it again?”

She huffs, and sits on the edge of the couch, still playing hard to get. 

“Nothing.”

He doesn't have to reach too far to snatch her and maneuver her into his lap.

“Say it with your chest, love. You know, communication is important in a relationship.”

The corners of her lips twitch upwards before pouting again. 

“We're not in a relationship.” 

His head tilts, studying her with mock seriousness. 

“Feeling alright? Not the most coherent thing you’ve ever said.”

She narrows her eyes at him.

“Female hysteria, very dire.”

He leans back, taking her with him, pressing her back against his chest. 

“Heard treatment is particularly intense. Being hung upside down, leeches on the abdomen, forced orgasms.” 

She tilts her head back, looking up at him.

“Brutal. Wonder if they still make house calls for that sort of thing.” 

“No need, I'm happy to help. Prone bone.”

She raises a brow. 

“Pro bono, you mean.”

“Yeah, that too.” 

Her snort gets cut off with a gasp when he lifts her hips up with his, tucking his thumbs into the sides of her shorts and shucking them down. 

“I like these.”

He snaps at the thin elastic of her underwear. 

"Careful," 

She warns, her voice breathy. 

"Those are my favorite pair."

“Mine too, might nick ‘em.” 

When she rolls against his hardening length and snickers at him freezing up. 

“Don't think they'd fit you.” 

One swift move and his pants are around his thighs. He ignores her complaining about having his bare ass on her couch and holds her hips, guiding her slick panties against his length. She laughs nervously while he moves her hips to grind her up and down him,

“Jesus, just goes on forever, doesn't it?”

“Based on my experience, seems like you enjoy a challenge.” 

Her hands look for something to anchor herself, his wrists being the closest thing she can reach. 

“Do I?”

Her eyes lock onto his, pupils blown out, hungry. He slowly, so slowly, moves a hand from her hip to stomach and creeps down, fingers moving the dainty fabric out of the way and-

There's a knock.

prev | next

[visenyaism]

Just saw that last ask you got and my jaw dropped. I feel like some people never moved past the part of feminism where you unlearn internalized shame and got to the part where you have to challenge your belief systems. I guess I understand the urge to romanticize “essential” female experiences or female relationships because otherwise it feels like femininity is just a shared experience of suffering under patriarchy but like. Gender is fake. Free yourself. Also girl math is just women be shopping humor be so for real

I have to mute replies on that post because at this point, I have to remember that I only answer stupid questions when I’m being paid to do so. Here’s a non-exhaustive list of takes about whether making jokes about how women are bad at math is okay or not that have been inflicted upon me:

- it’s just a joke, why can’t you take it less seriously it’s not that deep. (Anything is not that deep if you refuse to think about it but I digress)

- women joking about how women are bad at math or that women are childish or incapable in general is the same thing as Black reclamation of the N word.

-“girl math” is not misogynistic because it’s not saying girls are bad at math, it’s saying they’re good at shopping. 

- “women be shopping” is actually consumer economics and saying those kinds of jokes are sexist is actually a misogynistic denial of the way that most women use math in their everyday lives

- Making misogynistic jokes is an important way for women to build community with each other and I’m a misogynist for interfering with their ability to do this

- I’m a terf for saying that you should not joke about how adult women are childish or incapable.

- Making jokes that enforce misogyny actually enables women to see the misogyny in their own society and is this the first step to acting feminist liberation and social change

-“Girl Math” is actually a woke acknowledgement of the “different ways of thinking” women have from men and pushing back on this at all is the same kind of medical misogyny that leads to underdiagnosis of neurodivergence in young girls

- Women need to joke about not being able to do math or eat food or act as an autonomous adult and hide behind the “I’m just a girl” jokes to gain silliness, whimsy and liberation from Girlboss feminism that expects adults to be capable. I am a misogynist for stopping them from doing this. It is actually an overly masculinizing influence to expect adult woman to be able to do math.

- I’m saying you shouldn’t make jokes about how women are bad at math and call it girl math because I am insecure, have too much internalized misogyny about women having fun, and hate “the types of girls who make these jokes.”

[lavandaea]

smooth talker, powerful supernatural beings who are fluent in sarcasm and graduated from insufferable school being in love absolutely fucking whipped will always be my kind of thing.

I'm actually feral for that concept. Fight me if you dare.

Plus points if their partner it's as strong minded and colorful vocabularied/ eloquent as them.

Plus plus points if it's a love-hate relationship, full of bickering and unwanted feelings, DENIAL.

PLUS PLUS PLUS if they are a sad broken black cat (or smug orange, I won't complain) like who has lost all faith in humanity and could not care less about anything than themselves but actually the only thing they want more is some love and hugs and kisses. This being with or without their knowledge.

And then, their partner comes into their lives like saying "let me remind you how wonderful existing it's"

"Because I love you!"

"wait, WHY AM I JEALOUS?"

"what in the name of FUCK IS THIS APPARENTLY NAMED FEELING"

"Me?" points at themselves "with them?" looks at them doing the most weirdest thing. "Nah, there's no way".

"Who did this to you?" AAAAAAAAAAAA

The unbeatable "you are useful to me for this reason"/ I'm keeping you alive for this reason". At first it's true, BUT time goes on...and feelings are developed, they start using it as an excuse to protect them, to keep them close. To hide the undeniable truth.

UNTIL. THEY. DON'T. It's the moment they just want to be with them and have absolutely no fucks to give about what anyone says about it. They love this person and they want to make them happy.

It will always, always, always melt my heart the moment when A and B are looking at something really pretty, really nice and A says or asks "It's beautiful"/"Isn't it beautiful?"

And B that at first may have been looking at it says:

"Yes"

And then turns to A with that look of "I've loved you since the day I met you" to continue with

"It's beautiful"

I'll tell you, it never gets old for me.

PAST LIVES

SLOW. BURN.

SHARING HOUSE

SHARING BED

PARTNERS IN CRIME

TENDING WOUNDS

HAVING👏 EACH OTHER'S 👏 BACKS

THE ABSOLUTE LOOSERISM. I already kinda said it, but this is important shit.

GOING FEEERAL FOR THEIR LOVED ONE BEING HURT/ IN DANGER/ LOOKING FOR THEM (if I'm feral for this whole trope, I'm feral, for this one in particular) bonus points if glowing eyes, then you got me. Entirely.

AND THEN ANDTHENNN

when they go feral, primal, maybe even animalistic and don't have control of themselves or/and their powers and everything seems lost because they are idk, about to kill the one who hurt their darling to put an example. AND THEN THEY GET CALMED DOWN BY SAID DARLING.

"It's okay" "I'm okay" "Let's go home"

SHIT LIKE THAT AAAAA

Being a soft squishy ball full of love but only with them. Fuck everyone else.

The two kinds of looks:

"Oh shit, I'm in love with you" look.

"I love being in love with you" look.

Please do and recommend more of these kinds of shows/films/comics, I will never have enough of them.

Oh, the hopeless romantic in me.

[mountkennedie]

Remember You

Loki x fem!reader

warnings: A N G S T but fluff at the end and like 1 swear word

Summary: You have known Loki since before, during, and after Thanos' torture

Word Count: 1.9k

A.N. Okay I hadn't seen Loki s2 yet for most of this so this is mainly from my own sick little brain. I think this is the saddest thing I have ever written. Enjoy! :)

Life was so simple when you both were just teenagers. Running around Asgard, playing jokes on unsuspecting kin. Practicing magic with Loki's mother, he was always so gifted. You tried as hard as you could but still couldn't fully grasp certain techniques. It didn't matter to him. He helped you gain strength in what you could do.

Those are the memories you held onto on nights like these. When the knowledge of his death would refresh itself in your mind. You still will not completely understand why he fell from the Bifrost. You wanted to hold Odin accountable, but you were merely a best friend of a prince, nothing more to your name. So you stayed up at night, making and remaking the same tricks he had shown you many years ago.

Soon, another dawn came, and you finished out another sleepless night. The circles under your eyes were only growing darker, but you did not pay it much mind.

"Lady Y/n," Thor called. You turned and faced the prince. "I have news you may like to hear."

~

"And you are sure? ...he lives?"

"Indeed," Thor placed a strong hand on your shoulder. He had a faint smile on his face for just a moment, but then it faded. "I wish my news could be completely good. However, though my brother lives, he is currently rampaging Midgard. I am being sent to bring him back home."

Your joy had overcame every sense. It took a moment to process the rest of what Thor had told you. But once it did, your face fell just the same, "He's what?"

"He has currently killed eighty-one people over the course of two days, Lady Y/n."

You did not want to believe it. You couldn't. Of course, Loki has gone too far before, but this was not of his nature. "That does not sound like him." You took a pause and looked at Thor with a very stern expression, "Bring him back to me."

"I will do what I can." With that, he left, and you sank to the floor. A part of you wanted to rejoice due to him still being a part of this world, but you knew it would be joy misplaced. He was currently terrorizing a planet. What can one say to that?

~

You visited Heimdall as often as you could. To checking on Loki as much as possible. The feeling of denial you originally bestowed upon him was confirmed one afternoon.

"The prince does not look the same to me as he always has. A veil is shielded over him."

Since that was observed, you held onto it like a strand of life. It provided you rest you terribly needed and slight solace until he was returned. The restlessness did indeed return, however. When the realization that someone had to have overcame the prince's strong will to make him do their bidding. The thought reclaimed the worry over your soul, and your small moment of 'peace' was over.

~

He is being returned today. You were not supposed to be anywhere near the Bifrost, as any civilian. But you were still as close as possible, which meant you were inside the castle walls. You had to conceal yourself behind a column as they entered. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. However, just like before, that joy was abandoned upon seeing Loki in chains.

You came out of your place of concealment when they had walked past you. You quickly flew to the throne room, where Loki was to be charged.

When you reached the doors, you were held back. "No civilians are allowed beyond this point," you were told by the guard.

"Allow her in," the voice of his mother. You turned and made eye contact with her, then curtsied. She came up to you and held onto your arm. She gave a quick squeeze and a weak smile. You both entered together and stood beside Odin.

"Why has she accompanied you?" He spoke in a sour tone. He did not care to even look in your direction.

"She has a right to be here," The Allmother responded. Odin dropped the matter, and a guard had entered the room.

"He is outside the doors, your majesty."

"Send him in." The guard nodded and turned. He left for a moment, and you noticed the queen inhaled deeply and fixed her posture.

The doors opened, and you held your breath. The sounds of the shackles echoed around the room. You felt your eyes grow heavy in tears, but you knew not to let even one drop. Odin showed no emotion on his throne, as if the man before him was not his own son.

"I really don't see what all the fuss is about." That's him. Your Loki, not that being on Midgard that hurt all those innocent people. His words flowed as they always had, but just like always, Odin was unaffected.

He made a remark to his mother. But once his eyes fell upon you, in that one moment, his confidence was struck. They remained on you for a moment more before continuing his charade with the king.

When the sentence was carried out, he looked for once, defeated. He looked to his mother, then to you one last time. Then, it was promptly removed from the throne room and into the dungeons.

~

A month has passed now. You finally learned the different times and schedules of the guards and were able to make a plan to get around them. With the lack of the Allmother's word, you were restricted entry just as before. But today, you were ready to strike once again.

Every other Tuesday at 3:45 pm, the guards will take a break. The break itself was unauthorized. However, you appreciated the obstruction to the rule since it gave you time. Once out of ear shot of the guards, you opened to heavy doors leading to the prisons beneath the kingdom.

The smell hit you first. A wave of different creatures, all perspiring in unity with one another. Your cloak, worn to conceal your identity, could only do so much in masking the odor. You had no clue which cell he would be in, but you believe the worst was behind you. With quick strides, the hunt began.

Should I ask for directions? you thought. Of course not! You are in the dungeons of Asgard not the village market! In your defense, the place was a maze. Crafted to confuse an inmate incase of its escape.

You continued on a few paces before turning a corner. Something caught your eye. Something was sticking out amongst all the other inmates. You followed that alluring feeling up to the cell you'd been looking for.

His back was faced to you, but you noticed upon you walking towards him. He looked up. "Has my mother sent a new morsel to keep me entertained?" He faced you with mock amusement. "Who are you supposed to be?"

You reached up and removed the hood from your head. His face changed from amused to confounded. He grew close to the wall, separating you two. "Is this some sort of trick? Who was put up to this?"

You took a moment to gather your words. "What do you mean? Do you not believe I have come?" Your voice was frail. You were not expecting this reaction from him at all.

"I believe the one that currently sits on the throne will stop at nothing to pin to the bottom of misery itself." He leaned down to get closer to your eye level, though the barrier still blocked you both. "And what have you got to prove you are not another game for me to lose?" His voice was cold. A part of you wanted to ask what Odin did to make him lose trust in everything before him. However, that was not what he wanted to hear right now.

You sucked in a breath and then held out your hand. You conjured a purple snake with green spots. The image you would always match with his green snake with purple spots. This was what he taught you about how to make one warm summer night.

When the memory was triggered, Loki nearly threw himself on the shield. Instead, he fell to his knees and got to the edge of the cell. "(Y/n)... oh (Y/n)... how did you even get in here?"'

"I snuck in. It took much more planning than you would have thought," Though he was still in captivity, you couldn't help but smile as you saw him. And most importantly, he saw you.

He shook his head, "I've missed you. But you shouldn't be here. I don't want," he looked around the room, "them to know of you too much."

"I know, but -" You heard a scuffle. "Shit, how long has it been? I think the new guards have been appointed. I have to go." You sped off, and from behind, you heard Loki hit the glass, then groan in pain. But you swore to yourself to return for him again.

~

So much had happened in the span of a month. Frigga was dead. Loki broke out of jail, and you, with your help, Thor, Jane, and him, made it to the other realm. After your part of the plan was complete, you were to return to Asgard and help defend it from any dark elves that could attack.

But now the three of them were supposed to return. You looked out, waiting to see Loki accompanying Thor. But we were met with only the older brother. When he crossed into the palace, you approached him.

He beat you to ask your question with an answer. "I regret to inform you that once more, my brother will not be returning home."

You didn't know if you thought it or screamed it, but the overwhelming feeling of dread was all you could express. How could this happen again? You had just gotten him back.

~

Odin was not acting like Odin. You could be losing yourself in grief and seeing your former- friend- everywhere. It was strange. You knew Odin was acting out of character, but to say he was acting like Loki was bold. Even for you.

So, it led you to confront the king after one of the plays had finished. "Allfather. I would like to request an audience." What you did not expect was for the king to accept.

The pair of you went into the palace, and there you confronted him. "This may come off as strange but -"

"I can't." You looked at him with a confused expression. "I can't keep lying. To you." The appearance of Odin melted away to reveal your former lov- friend. You didn't respond at first. Just stared, astonished.

"Please say something," he pleaded. Instead, you slapped him clean across the face. "I see how I deserve that." You brought him into your arms and held onto him close. The tears in my eyes overflowing down my face.

"Why didn't you tell me? At least me?" Your words were strung out slurred slightly. You just kept repeating your question, and he held you for a while until your breathing calmed down.

"I wanted to tell you. I wanted to explain everything to you. I wanted it all to be clear as day, especially for you. But I couldn't just yet. I needed to -"

You pulled back. "Wait," you interrupted, "If you're playing Odin. Then where's the real one?"

"Midgard."

"Loki..." you facepalmed.

"But he is being taken care of. They have these homes that take care of those who are later in life. He's fine," his voice was rushed.

You sighed and rested your head on his chest. "Don't die on me again. Or at least tell me when you plan to? I don't know. But whatever you do just," you look him in the eyes, "don't leave me again."

"I won't." If only that were true.

A.N. Hope this broke you the way it broke me lol

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Just a little reminder that everyone has a feminine and masculine side, so don't hesitate to read the messages for your masculine side too.

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Pile One 🕺

BEYONCÉ - COZY

Right away, I’m detecting that this pile is trying to work through some bitterness and that’s ok. I get the gist that this collective is aware of this and are either accepting of it or in denial of it because of the assumption that it’s embarrassing or demeaning to feel that way. I always want to remind people that it’s okay to feel negative emotions. Having them is not what defines you but how you choose to express them is how it truly characterizes you. It feels like this brooding energy is like a seesaw or a visual representation of tug of war, because it’s happening in two different directions. This pile could be in limbo with trying to reach the other side of realizing your self-worth. There’s bitterness split into two directions. Acerbic agony over “why not me?” in terms of finding people who accept and match the love that you give to others and “why me?” when it comes to jealousy and vitriol that makes you afraid of your own potential for success and dim your light. What your feminine side is asking of you is to stop watering yourself down because you feel it’s safer that way to be under others. Take note of the vibe that you get from this channeled song because it’s time to get “cozy” with who you are and take some initiative in the lessons that you’ve been through by talking your shit. You sat with your pain long enough to know its beginning but to finally decide how YOU want to create its end. If you’re in a funk where it’s making you feel meek and want to self-sabotage, reach deep inside yourself to know that the answer isn’t to revert back to old patterns and lies that people told you to keep you stuck because they don’t want to see you grow. Get cozy with yourself because you must understand that every step of the way isn’t going to be comfortable all of the time but I feel that a lot of you are at a point where things are getting worse before they get better. It could be something external going on, but I feel that it’s mostly mental. You’re going to come out of this even stronger than before and you’re going to move differently and choose differently but also get an upgrade relating to speech. How you talk to yourself will improve, you’ll speak with more confidence, and your words will match exactly with your feelings when it comes to communicating with others. The main thing that I am seeing here is no longer trying to make accommodations that make you suffer in the end just to protect another person’s ego.

Pile Two 🕺

BEYONCÉ -MOVE

I’m sensing a lot of completion with this pile. If you’re not in this new energy yet, prepare for people making a lot of misconceptions about you. You could be accused of being aloof or have people nitpicking or trying to diagnose you based on little to no evidence. It doesn’t have to be this exact situation but what I first would like to point out is that it’s like, you’re floating down this river, unphased, and just flowing with the currents. Or that you’re water itself, becoming mutable with your form but regardless of what changes are made, you’re still water. If you’ve experienced intense feelings over people ghosting you or just not prioritizing you in the past, I’m seeing that you’ll be at a stage where you understand that what those people did wasn’t at all right and you’re no longer internalizing it with your thoughts and actions, but in other words, you’re not going to be that person anymore that’s waiting for a text. You’re not going to wait for people to act right, wait for other people’s approval, or postpone your life for people who like to play with your time. I’m getting the message that you shouldn’t stop yourself from doing whatever it is that you think about doing because “they will talk about you either way”. This could apply to promoting yourself in some way, maybe for a new job opportunity, or just taking a chance to improve your health. You may have anxiety of thinking that maybe there’s no point in trying to see what you can do for your body because you’ve been stagnant for years because of circumstances that weren’t really in your control, like finances or being dependent on a toxic parent. This could also be something else, but either way it’s like you’re afraid of what you could hear, possibly something negative or even just a “no”, but I’m hearing you can’t make that judgment without trying, because you might actually receive a yes, assistance in getting back on your feet again, or good news about your timing in getting something done before you could miss out on what’s important.

Pile Three 🕺

BEYONCÉ - CUFF IT

A rebirth is needed for this pile. There’s a lot of indulgence that feels mindless and endless because you’re seeking to satiate a need or needs but there are people who are already aware of this but are in need of confirmation for which way is the right direction to go. It’s about experiencing everything for the first time all over again. Not in a dreadful way to make you suffer, but to soothe any worries over not finding happiness if you don’t have that “one thing”. If you’ve been tested recently on remaining brave in your decision to part ways with someone but are having second doubts or the fear that you’re going to miss out, maybe that “need” that you have can be replenished by just being around your family to remind yourself that you aren’t lacking love and support around you. If you’re feeling “sexual”, maybe it isn’t sex that you necessarily need and that it’s just your soul telling you to create. If you’ve been used to seeking answers through spiritual measures but are still left confused, then maybe that’s a sign that it’s time to step back and take a break from the unseen and to come back and relearn how to go through life from just being instead of trying to know everything. Even if it isn’t those specific scenarios previously mentioned, you’re on a journey of wisdom of learning that a lot of the things that you’ve considered as losses haunting your everyday life, were not really losses, because they can be replaced by something else that’s going to lead you into falling more in love with yourself.

[katerinaaqu]

hello :D I hope you’re doing well! I really liked your understanding and knowledge of Greek mythology and as someone who also really likes it and always wants to learn more I’m often in spaces that discus such things. But there is a little “problem” that I have encountered and I just wanted to maybe ask you to know if you know more about it! Long story short I saw a video discussing calypso and a comment saying that ppl who say that she 🍇 ed Odysseus didn’t read the story well enough. They also said that they only slept one time together which is when he left and that was consensual apparently. I didn’t read the odyssey in a bit and wanted to ask if there’s like a specific part that you remember that says the opposite. Idk if what I asked really makes sense so if you can answer tysm!!

Hello and I am doing okay thank you very much Anon.

Thank you very much for the compliment and your kind words and it is great that we see more people actually getting interested to the ACTUAL material and it is always great to have new people into this reading and understanding process.

I have answered or analized on that matter before but it is always great to do so again and again! ^_^

I see so again we have more on this rape denial (and yeah I am using the actual word! No euphemisms and censory of words in this house! Hahahaha!) well then the person who said that probably forgot this passage here:

However the nights he was sleeping with her at her hollow caves out of necessity for even if she was willing, he was not

(Translation by me)

I believe the most important part eludes this OP that said that because I don't believe that Homer added the last words there by chance. He specifically uses the terms οὐκ ἐθέλων ἐθελούσῃ

οὐκ ἐθέλων -> adv. negative form m. that shows opposition "even if he was not willing.

ἐθελούσῃ -> adv. positive form, dative f. "by the willing" or "at the side of the willing"

Which is why many translators translate this small phrase as "unwilling lover by the side of the willing" So it clearly indicates rape given how I doubt that Homer indicated they were just...cuddling by each other's side for 7 years! So it is an indicator of the lack of free will. In fact the word ἀνάγκῃ (coming from the verb ἀναγκάζω or ἀναγκάσσω which means "to force") indicates need but not the need as "I need you badly" but as "I have no choice" or "I am forced to" either by the circumstances or by someone clearly imposing their will upon me. So there is a clear of factor of force here. So by definition rape.

So I will break down the rest and sorry if it is long.

Now there is a phrase, which I also memorize to this other post of mine here:

Which is this as you can see from my post:

Because he didn't like the nymph anymore

(Translation by me)

Given that this οὐκέτι means "no longer" or "no more" seems to be indicating to some readers of the Odyssey that the whole thing started willingly and that at some point Odysseus got bored of her and stopped it. However I disagree with that reading for many reasons. For once that the term ἁνδάνω -> past tense ἥνδανε means "to please" or "to gratify" but not necessarily in a sexual way. It generally means any form of gratification or likeness (even though in modern times we have connected the verb more with sexual gratification or ηδονή in modern greek) so I also agree more to the translators who also interpret the passage as "her sight no longer pleased him" aka after years and years of being a prisoner, all the likeness and gratitude he had for her as a person is gone (see also my other post)

Two I do not like this reading because many people who see it that way also deny the rape as that person in the comments. As I have stated to some other replies of mine, the affair starting willingly doesn't exclude the rape. Even if we say that Odysseus started it or accepted it (and as I said I doubt it given the context) Calypso was still raping him at that point. Either he was unwilling from the very beginning and Calypso was forcing herself on him, not taking no for an answer, or he at some point had a change of mind and wanted to stop and Calypso didn't take no for an answer.

Now for the part that the OP in question mentions that "they have sex only once". Yeah technically speaking there is only one scene in the Odyssey that could be interpreted as of sexual nature and is spoken in only one lyric, as I mention to my post I liked and it's this one:

People who interpret that Odysseus started the affair willingly, for some reason by n large also think that the rape is not a thing. I mean would they say the same for let's say a girl nowadays, starting an relationship with a boyfriend, eventually she realized he is not for her, she decided to stop it but the boyfriend would't take no for an answer and continuing forcing himself on her, wouldn't we call it a rape at that point regardless on the smooth beginning?

Then why would anyone who for their own personal reasons read the passage as Odysseus willingly starting the affair and then wishing to stop it but Calypso not having it assumes that Odysseus was not raped?

And they enjoyed closeness resting by each other's side

(Translation by me)

On a much darker note, Odysseus was abused constantly for years. The existence of the goddess as the only source of warmth and close contact he had for years (no matter how forceful) might have done something to him enough to just try and reconsile fully with Calypso. Someone might say that this is...too modern to say but honestly I doubt it. Homer was a master of expressing psychology and in later passage made Odysseus totally unwilling to be touched by Nausicaa's servant girls and wished to bathe himself instead. It is not like the Phaeaces would recognize him or his scar at that point to fear for his identity (not to mention he was already naked anyways) but he uses as an excuse that "he is ashamed". Being washed by female servants was customary and not seen as shameful in ancient Greece.

So for starters yes it seems that the scene is positive of emotions given the verb τέρπω "delight" or "enjoy" so the whole verb "to force" seems to fly out the window and then comes the word φιλότης which I assume people who read some words in Greek know that comes from he verb φιλέω-ώ which in ancient Greek meant "to love" so they translate the word φιλότης as "love". Honestly is not hard to see why given how other parts of homeric poems (more specifically during the Deception of Zeus) the same phrase pops up to signify lovemaking.

However the interesting part is that the word does not mean just love. It also means "friendship" or "reconsiliation" or just "closeness". I also find it interesting how people ignore the passage of "sleeping by her side although not willing" as a sign that nothing happened between them but they are very much certain that this passage here implies sexual scenes. As I mention to the post I linked it seems more likely that the passage translates "they enjoyed closeness resting by each other's sides" and that also of course imply mutual enjoyment of their reconsiliation possibly because Odysseus was happy to finally return home and Calypso took an oath that she didn't aim to trick him. Another thing is what could Odysseus do basically? Hold a grudge against an immortal goddess? How? Much more BEFORE he had the chance to build his raft?

Odysseus denies the help of women because he doesn't seem ready to accept a female touch just yet!

Homer also doesn't imply that Odysseus's stay at Calypso's island was in any shape or form willing. In fact Athena, Zeus and Homer himself all alike speak on how Odysseus was being kept against his will and nowhere in the passage apart from these small ones that I give here was it implied that Odysseus was being there pleasantly but rather that he was imprisoned or retained perforce. And that is without counting Odysseus's own words that neither of the goddesses got his heart and that both retained him. Odysseus also speaks with fear on both but Calypso in particular. Yeah he isn't hateful to them but again what can he do? He was roaming about for 10 years with the worst consequences because he was offensive to one god. I doubt he would want to badmouth any other no matter how small. And he also wants to appear pleasant to the eyes of his hosts to gain their sympathy so he doesn't really badmouth anyone apart from calling Calyspo and Circe "terrifying" or "dreadful" and occasionally his men "careless" or "mindless"

I think it is up for everyone's conscious to interpret his affair with Calypso starting willingly (and even then "willing" seems interesting to say the very least given that, as we said, Calypso was literally the only contact with anything remotely human Odysseus had for years. Even if we assume that for some reason he started an affair or accepted it, even the setting is messed up; loneliness, loss, mourning, fear for a powerful goddess etc) he still was being held prisoner and forced one way or another.

I hope that makes sense and I am sorry I was so long.

***

Some other parts that I replied on the matter of Calypso and consequently Circe:

And this is my reply to another person who did analyze the passage differently so you will have that idea as well and I also elaborate on my counter-arguements as well (and the discussion was really productive as well and the OP was really open and respectful to other insights and I was happy to contribute to the conversation:

Sorry again for the long reply!

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Okay, my one and only major complaint about Bad Batch is that I don't think they handled Tech's death properly (I still don't think they should have killed him off at all, but here we are; and even if they intend(ed) to leave things open-ended to maybe bring him back later, the titular characters in the show wouldn't have known that); and with all the reasons I've seen floating out there as to WHY Tech's death was handled the way it was and why the characters reacted the way they did (or didn't), I just want to explain why none of the "reasons" cut it for me. If you're satisfied with how Tech was handled in season 3, I am genuinely happy for you (and lowkey jealous, ngl 😉). I've just been thinking about this a lot and need to spell it out!

Reason #1: "Why do we need to see more of the characters mourning? What we got was enough. We don't need a 2 hour episode that's all about the characters grieving." (Yes, someone actually used "2 hours" in their argument.)

Let's recap what we got: 1) A scene where Echo looks sadly at the Marauder's pilot seat, Wrecker actually sheds some tears (bless him), Omega's in denial, and Hunter tells Omega they're going to retire on Pabu because Tech is gone... followed up almost immediately by the villain dropping off broken goggles as the only proof that Tech was ever on Eriadu; 2) a scene where the audience is shown Tech's goggles but Hunter doesn't interact with them- instead, he looks at Lula, proving that his driving motivation is recovering Omega (which is fine when taken from the perspective that he can't do anything about Tech, whereas he can do something for Omega; but that perspective is ultimately just headcanon because the show never reiterates or follows up on this); 3) Wrecker alluding to Tech (not by name) to try to convince Hunter to be more cautious; 4) Omega name-dropping Tech (wait, does Crosshair even know what happened?... yay for context clues, I guess); 5) Echo name-dropping Tech in relation to data decryption with the team looking down sadly for 5 seconds (I timed it) before Crosshair changes the subject; 6) Phee name-dropping Tech in relation to her not knowing what m-count is; 7) Crosshair referring to Tech's information on Ventress; 8) Omega leaving Tech's goggles in the Archeum with none of her brothers around (hot take: it kinda bothers me that the goggles are given the same treatment as Lula, I totally understand the context/deeper meaning of Omega leaving her childhood behind by leaving Lula, but we're talking about the one relic they have of their fallen and irreplaceable brother being given the same emotional weight as a doll); 9) Phee referring to Tech having a discussion with her about Crosshair while Tech's goggles are in the background (and, noticeably, Crosshair doesn't react at all and just changes the subject back to needing a ship); 10) Crosshair says the squad died with Tech, Wrecker says Tech understood the risks, and that's that.

So, what we got was enough to establish that the characters were sad in the immediate aftermath of Tech's death, that some of them may have stayed sad about it all through season 3, and that the show didn't completely forget that Tech had been a main character at one point.

What we DON'T get is any real reference to what Tech meant to the family as an individual and a brother, any real indication of how the loss of Tech (distinct from the mission to save Omega) influences his family's actions or the story's overall narrative, any actual acknowledgement in the show of Tech's sacrifice having any meaning or the family moving past grief to express any form of gratitude for Tech's presence and influence on their lives, any reference to Tech having a true impact on 4 of his 5 siblings (Omega is the closest we get to witnessing Tech's continued influence on any of his siblings and even seeing that involves squinting/head tilts at times)... in other words, we get a few minutes of sadness, but never any catharsis. We see they miss him, but never does this truly inform the narrative or their decisions in season 3, AND it's left frustratingly vague where the characters are in the grieving process (more on that later).

Besides, no one (that I have come across, at least) was ever asking for a 2 hour episode. At most, Kanan got a 22-minute "eulogy" episode, and most of us aren't even asking for that. I'd have been at least minimally satisfied with a "Mayday moment" for Tech - and that scene lasted a grand total of 20 seconds. What would have been more satisfying would have been the show taking all those superficial name drops and converting at least a few of them into meaningful mentions indicating what Tech means to his brothers and/or how he continues to have an influence on his family and/or how his sacrifice is a motivating factor for them.

Reason #2: "There was no time."

Leaving aside the fact that there was apparently plenty of time and opportunity to make Tech (among others) a red herring...

Let's assume that the showrunners were not only told they only had 1 season left to wrap everything up, but were given highly specific time allotments for each episode to where they weren't allowed to add any scenes (I highly doubt this is what happened, but we're rolling with the "no time" thing here). You know what you do in that scenario when you're talking about something like following up on a main character's death that clearly has left your entire fanbase in an uproar? You MAKE time: you trim down the action scenes, you make the characters walk a little bit faster, you decide whether an extended scene of Echo giving Omega a crossbow that is never going to show up again is actually worth saving (I actually like the scene, by the way; just giving an example), you cut out a few of the extremely vague lines of dialogue Fennec and Asajj indulge in. What you DON'T do is kill off a beloved main character and then rely on convenient time lapses/time skips to just brush over all the fallout apart from a few name drops that do nothing to establish just how important said character was to the other characters in the show.

What's more, they could have EASILY included some true closure with ANY of the Tech name-drops/scenes that were already in the show. Have Hunter look at Tech's goggles before looking beyond them at Lula in 3.02. Have the brothers be present with Omega when she decides to leave Tech's goggles in the Archeum in 3.11. Have any of the brothers say one meaningful line about Tech while they're otherwise silently basking in the sunshine in the end scene on Pabu in 3.15!

Reason #3: "They're soldiers."

Of all the reasons given for why Tech's death was mishandled, I dislike this one the most. What does CF99 being soldiers have to do with the aftermath of Tech's death being reduced to perfunctory allusions? (If you want to get into the argument that soldiers in general have to figure out a way to "move on" and The Clone Wars didn't really spend any time on the clones processing losses after battles, let me just say I don't care for how this topic is covered in The Clone Wars either, and Bad Batch was a golden opportunity for the Star Wars franchise to move past this unfortunate trope.) Fallen soldiers in real life get memorials/funerals too, even if it's months after the battle. Fallen soldiers are honored and remembered by their families and those closest to them. If the show is trying to push the stereotype that soldiers move on from tragic deaths of comrades by being "stoic" and holding it all in and never talking about it, I strongly disagree with the perpetuation of this stereotype; and if the characters as soldiers actually DID grieve Tech in a healthy way, why didn't the show depict it?

Reason #4: "Star Wars writers don't know how to write meaningful scenes/payoff regarding death and characters dealing with death/loss."

The Bad Batch writers proved time and again how brilliant they are at writing emotional storylines with maximum payoff. Case in point: Mayday. Enough said (I'm writing too much on this general topic as it is).

Reason #5: "They got over it."

Maybe I'm reading things wrong, but a rather drastic change in behavior for one character (going from cautious and weighing all risks, to reckless and jumping headfirst into situations without proper backup), and another character including Tech's death as just one reason why he "deserves" to go on a suicide mission, does not read to me as the characters "getting over it." It reads to me as "avoidance behavior" and "continued internal conflict." (Granted, Hunter's more reckless behavior in season 3 likely had as much to do with the Omega situation as it did Tech's death, but the point still stands. And if the point DOESN'T still stand, then I've got even MORE issues with how this plotline was handled, so we'll just keep assuming it does.)

Furthermore, if the characters had truly "gotten over it," there shouldn't have been any hesitation or issue with them discussing and honoring Tech in meaningful ways.

Reason #6: "They DIDN'T get over it."

Right, and we ended the show that way, with no clear resolution to them actually coming to terms with Tech's death and honoring his memory. Great.

Reason #7: "Whatever. It's good Tech stayed dead. Tech's sacrifice meant something."

... Did it? Did it really? I mean, I know I say quite frequently that Tech's sacrifice is what made the happy ending possible for the others (because that's the only thought that got me through a rewatch of season 3). But the show, the narrative itself, certainly doesn't act like it really meant anything. Hunter says in the season 2 finale that they "weren't going to waste Tech's sacrifice" because they were going to retire on Pabu... and that discussion promptly gets forgotten and never brought up again, not even when the squad is trying to stay off the Empire's radar in season 3 after Omega returns. Never is there any discussion that "not wasting Tech's sacrifice" by hiding on Pabu to make sure no one else dies (a very understandable reaction, of course) also goes against the very mission Tech pushed for in the first place: rescuing Crosshair. Never do we hear Omega tell Crosshair, "Tech didn't give up on you, I'm not giving up on you, that's why you ARE going to escape with me." Never is there any talk about "Tech wanted us to live and stay together, so that is what we are going to do." Never is there any acknowledgement at the end of the show that they are all going to live in peace on Pabu because Tech made sure they could live.

The last half of season 4 of Rebels is full of references to Kanan's sacrifice actually meaning something and having direct tangible consequences not only for the family but for Lothal and the Rebellion. For one thing, the show itself literally spells out that the mission to shut down the Imperial factories on Lothal was actually a success because all the fuel reserves were destroyed - Kanan had died, but the mission had succeeded and directly led to the success of the bigger mission to completely free Lothal, and while this is very poor consolation for the loss of Kanan, at least the show openly acknowledged it. Kanan and his influence is also openly credited for Ezra foiling Palpatine's plans with the Jedi Temple and the WBW, Ezra learning to let go and again disrupting Palpatine's plans in the finale, and doing what was needed to ensure Lothal was fully freed.

Imagine how different Rebels would be if Kanan's death had been treated like Tech's: no mention that his role on the mission had any impact whatsoever. No reference to Ezra or any other member of the Ghost crew living up to what Kanan had taught them all - or, at best, there's a perfunctory reference in the epilogue that Ezra decided to keep using the Force the way Kanan had taught him to. No depiction of Ezra or Hera or Sabine or Zeb accepting Kanan's death and letting go of the pain while holding on to the memories. Nothing to show that any of the Ghost crew members act in memory of Kanan or that he is a motivating influence on them. No indication that Kanan's sacrifice drives Ezra to decide to follow up on their initial success with the factories and ultimately completely drive the Empire from Lothal.

Rebels just wouldn't be nearly as fulfilling.

Now, imagine if Tech's death had been treated like Kanan's, and maybe it will become more clear why I have a REALLY hard time agreeing with the argument that the show itself actually depicted Tech's death as "meaning something."

[justwonder113]

Showering Seungmin with affection Part 2

First part right here

Bang Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; IN;

Summary: While wide awake thinking about your poor life choices and even poorer choice in men the least thing you expect is for Seungmin to call you and ask for your help. Warnings: Not really accurate to name, because to be honest I never once considered writing the second part while writing the first one but once I got all these requests about writing continuation I just knew I had to do it; LOADS of cursing, like really, I have no shame; Idiots in love; Reader is whipped but is in denial; Emotionaly reserved reader; Denial is a river in Egypt you are in love! Like really, reader really tries their best to fight it while also not? I hope it makes sense once you read it it's like 3 am I can't think better. Reader is an overthinker. Seungmin has a headache. Shy Seungmin for a moment (Coudln't help myself) I can't think of anything else, If I missed something please let me know. Unedited. Word count-3.5k

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

This was fucking ridiculous! To think that two whole months went by since your vocation and here you were at two am wide fucking awake still thinking about kissing Kim Seungmin!

You still had no idea what kind of bug bit you for you to act so recklessly, but here you were still stressing over it. But really, why were you still thinking about it? It was in the past, you were both drunk, there was chemistry and tension so you made out end of story! Why were you making such a big deal out of it? Why now? Two months went by, both of you, mostly you,(no really, you) made a conscious decision to act like nothing happened. And if we were being honest, this meant that you avoided Seungmin like the plague because you knew he wanted to talk.

Okay, you were not ignorant of your feelings, and, as much as you hated the mere idea of it you liked Kim Seungmin. No big deal, it's just a crush, it will surely go away pretty soon, you just need to wait.

.....

Okay, you liked him, quite a lot, it wasn't just a crush and you absolutely hated the fact. Why him? Anyone would be a better choice but him! What the hell was wrong with you?! Here you were all pouty and shit because, despite the fact that you were the one avoiding him, you actually missed him. God, this was so ridiculous!

To be or not to be that is the question, well in your case the question is how to stop liking someone, because you were already sick of this shit. Also, to be real, there's no way things could work out between you two. You were always fighting and at each other's throats, you have said to each other most vile and meanest words ever in the heat of an argument. The point was, that there was no peace when you two were involved, you two always disagreed on everything and if you were to get into a relationship how would that work? You didn't want to fight back and forth with a person you call your boyfriend. It also didn't help that both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good, backing down was not in your dictionary. You didn't want to be in a relationship like that. Okay, relationship sounded too serious, you didn't even know if he liked you back. He was attracted to you to some extent but you didn't know how he actually felt towards you. You hated this the most, you never knew what he was thinking, what his deal was. He was a walking mystery. An open book at first sight but full of secrets once you got to know him. Maybe that's why you were drown to him, but was it a smart move from your side?

You didn't know what his deal was, whether he liked you back and that's why he kissed you back and taunted and flirted with you or whether this was one of his little games he liked to play. Even if his intentions were genuine, it wasn't like he was this villain mastermind bad guy, you didn't feel like you could be at ease with him, and security in relationship was something you deeply valued. And If he was actually pulling something you would walk right into his trap and in the fit of rage you would have to murder him, and going into prison wasn't your go to plan in the near future at least.

Why did he have to be so confusing? Literally things would be so much easier if were to fall for someone else, literally anyone, but no, you had to be difficult.

He made you question everything and it really terrified you.

You sighed and turned into your bed. Fucking Kim Seungmin making you stay up this late at night, even not here he managed and pissed you off. You did wonder what was he up to? Probably sleeping, any sane person would be asleep right now.

Maybe he was up thinking about you too?

Okay you were feeding your delusions now. There's no way he would lose a minute of sleep for you. It would be fun though if you were tormenting him like he was tormenting you right now.

That being said your phone lit up from incoming call, and what shocked you more was to see that the little devil himself was calling you.

Did you manifest this? Should you pick up? No way. What was he thinking calling you at this ungodly hour? You were not even close! You could pretty much be asleep and seeing your seventh dream of the night right now. What a selfish prick!

You still picked up the phone, and tried to sound as groggy as you could, acting as if he woke you up(fuck principles I guess). "Why the fuck are you awake?" His quiet chuckle made you pout even more, you could clearly imagine him smiling at his phone being all cute and shit and it made you even more huffy now.

"I could ask you the same thing sunshine." He purred clearly amused.

"I was asleep thank you very much." You sighed maybe he really needed your help and that's why he was calling. "Someone better be dying."

"First of all I know you're awake Your lights are on, and well about someone dying, would it still matter if the dying person was me?"

You shot out of bed, phone still in your hand and ran towards your window. Seungmin immediately saw you and waved at you small smile adorning his face. You wanted to question him but before you could ask he started talking, "I didn't know where else to go." You didn't know what to say.

"Come inside."

Seungmin agreed and you hung up. You had no clue what was going on. If it was an emergency why did he come to you? You could never understand him! You quickly looked around if there was anything out of place not that you had time to tidy up. Thankfully you cleaned up the house, insomnia sometimes had it's perks.

After hearing a soft knock you rushed to your door and opened it. Seungmin looked a bit pale but other than that nothing was out of ordinary. He had a blank face which was confusing you even more. "I bought you snacks." he showed you a packet full of your favourite goodies. Did he actually know they were your favorite? Was this a coincidene? Did he also happened to have a great taste? Were you overthinking a bag of snacks?-Probably.

"Thank you for the offer, I shall grant you passage." You tried to sound as dramatic as possible, Seungmin smiled at you. Weirdo. After letting him in the house you examined him again, but still nothing was out of normal. You let him sit on the couch while you sat in front of him. The silence was so awkward that you started munching on one of the snacks. You offered him some, but he softly shook his head. "What's wrong?"

"Are you worried about me?" He gasped softly as if he coudln't believe what he was hearing. He was spending way too much time with Hyunjin, all dramatic and for what?" You decided to take the matter into your hands.

"No I just want to know what to tell the police if you really do die in my house." Seungmin gave you a small smile again. You coudln't name what was off but he really didn't look like himself today.

You slowly approached him not breaking the eye contact, quietly asking for consent to touch him. He looked at you with wide eyes, not saying anything, you softly touched his cheeks, then his forehead, you even touched your own forehead to make sure but no he didn't have a fever. His eyes were a bit more red and slightly irritated and, as you said, he looked paler than usual. "What's wrong?" He looked at you but quickly looked away as if he couldn't look you in the eyes. He almost looked bashful.

After a while he muttered out something about a headache and how he couldn't sleep at all.

"God I can't believe you, you should have called not go all the way to come here or you could have called a doctor! You could've bought some painkillers instead of worrying about bringing snacks! God Seungmin!" You kept yapping about how dangerous it was for him to wander around while in pain and everything, but on the inside you kind of hoped he knew that you were not mad, just worried.

"I know, I just"-he paused thinking over his next words, "I knew I had to see you. I didn't know where else to go. At first I went out to clear my head, next thing I knew I was in front of your house." He looked like he really was in pain.

You two sat in silence for a minute or two, you were about to get up to get some painkillers for him and maybe some hot tea but he stopped you, well more likely looked at you with pleading eyes and you just couldn't move.

"Can I hug you?" You must have been visibly stunned because he quickly backed down. "I'm sorry I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. God! I don't even know what I'm doing and..." You didn't let him finish his ramble, as if your body moved on its own, you sat beside him and softly wrapped your hands around him, slowly bringing him against your body as if he was fragile and could break any moment. Seungmin Immediately relaxed once he rested his head on your shoulder and also wrapped his hands around your waist. You let him be. It felt like your heart would jump right out of your ribcage and despite being terrified that he could also hear just what he did to you, you felt weirdly at peace holding him like this. You must have lost your mind. A minute ago you were preaching yourself how you should stay away from him and how you and him had no job being together. How ironic.

You just sat there holding each other, you didn't even know how much time you spent like this, both of you barely moving, just you sometimes patting his shoulder as if to remind him that you were with him and maybe also because you liked touching him. With every little pat he squeezed you a little, which, not going to lie, you found endearing.

Some more moments passed before he decided that it was time to start talking. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

He sighed, his breath his breath hitting your neck made you shiver. He straightened up, it was weird letting him go, it felt like you were missing something.

"You made it clear that you didn't want to deal with me after that night..." -He paused and looked away, it was really dark in the room illuminated by only one lamp so maybe you were just being delusional, but was he blushing? - " and here I am now, disturbing you... I should go." He got up and started heading to the door but you stopped him.

"Where are you going?" He looked at you all baffled and confused, he looked much more awake right now.

"Home?" He sounded so unsure. You quickly shook your head.

"You're staying here, it's late and you're in pain. There's no way I am letting you go!" You stated sternly, he looked really ashamed which made you soften up a little. "Listen I know things got messy between us after that night and I shouldn't have just avoided you like that, but you need to stay here. That or we're going to a nearby clinic! There's no way I am leaving you alone. Better choose wisely." He looked unsure, but once he saw that you were not going to back down he gave in.

"Okay you win." He was clearly unamused to say this words, you, on the other hand were literally thriving.

"Of course I do." He wanted to say something back but you didn't let him. You started leading him back inside "Listen up big guy, I am going to make you tea, were going to eat some snacks and you're going to take some painkillers and then we're going to sleep sound good?"

"As you wish sunshine." He had his goofy smile on. It totally didn't make your heart do a backflip, not at all.

You got to work, you sat him down on the sofa while you started preparing things. Soon enough you were happily munching on your snacks with some hot tea. Seungmin seemed like he was in a better mood he even teased you for almost burning yourself with hot water. Well of course after fretting over you like a worried mother hen and making sure you were all right. It was like you were seeing a whole new side of him, it was different and you liked it. You felt calm sitting here with him, calm, just existing. It felt kind of domestic. It reminded you when you were laying in snow then just watching snow fall on the ground. It was a miracle you didn't catch a cold. You couldn't imagine you could do mundane things like this with him, without fighting, without the urge to strangle him to shut him up.

Once you were done and Seungmin did admit that he was feeling better it was time to go to bed, which was when things got a little bit awkward.

"I will sleep on the couch, I don't want to disturb you more than I already have." You rolled your eyes why was he still yapping about disturbing you and stuff.

"Sure if you want backpain along with your headache. We're both adults, I think we can sleep in the same bed. It's not a big deal." Yup you were totally fine with this. Absolutely, yes, of course! You were going to sleep in the same bed as him, no biggie. Who were you even kidding? You were absolutely dying inside. How did you manage to find yourself into this situation was beyond you. It was late to back down now. You already blurted this out, so you should stick to it.

You quickly left him to get him some clothes to change into, Yes, you ran away, but you preferred to call it a tactical retreat.

Here you were now tho, nowhere to run, in the same bed as him, with him just laying there in your oversized t-shirt and looking at you with confused eyes. Why did he have to look at you like that? It was enough you felt like the butterflies in your stomach were like breakdancing sumo wrestlers, but this? Was he always this adorable? His cheeks looked extra squishy, his eyes looked extra sparkly, his lips... extra kissable.

This was too much! You felt bipolar from the way you wanted to feel his lips against yours again and kiss him sensless while also wanting to run away from here because you were scared you were actually going to do it.

"I don't get you sometimes." He muttered out and turned fully towards you, his gaze was so intense you thought you felt it burn your skin. For a second you felt afraid he knew what you were thinking just now.

It makes two of us-you thought, while you were complaining not getting what his deal was, you also couldn't fully understand what you were getting at right now. It felt like your every move was contradicting each other, and this push and pull situation you were creating was also starting to bother you.

Based on your lack of reaction Seungmin decided to continue talking his voice low, almost whispering. "You say that laying in the same bed is no big deal and here you are about to fall out of bed trying to stay far from me as possible yet at the same time look at me with this loving eyes, you said that us kissing wasn't a big deal, but you spend next two months avoiding even breathing near me. Do you hate the idea of us being something this much?" You finally turned and looked into his eyes, full of longing waiting for your answer, pleading with you. You knew you had to say the truth. You couldn't run out of this one.

"I'm confused and scared" you hated how vulnarable you felt, how open, but you felt like you just had to say this. Not for him, not really, but for you. For once you wanted to show to tell just what you were feeling. Just truth without any filters, without altering it.

Seungmin held your hand, the warm touch of his hand made you feel even more vulnerable but at least somewhat grounded. You were grateful for the ounce of courage it gave you. "I'm scared too. I've never felt more confused in my life. I couldn't sleep or eat normally for days, why do you think that night didn't affect me too? All I can think about it you! What are you up to, what are you doing? What are you thinking. Every little thing reminds me of you. I felt like shit today, and the only person I could think of was you, I knew I had to see you. I haven't even realized when I started walking. I was in my house laying awake in my bed. The next thing I knew, I was in front of your house with a bag full of snacks I know you love. I didn't even know I knew these things about you. At least I wasn't aware of it." He sighed as if trying not to stray away from his course and calm himself he looked into your eyes again, his hand tightly holding yours. "Let's start by simple things. We don't have to rush anything. I like you, a lot. I don't regret at all making out with you that night. I like you. Maybe I feel even more, but I won't use that word now. Neither of us is ready." It was like you forgot how to brethe. You never expected Seungmin to open up like to you. Maybe this was all a dream, but since when were dreams so realistic?

Seungmin smiled at you, maybe he noticed something about you that you haven't noticed yet. "I know we've mixed up the order, according to our friends we've bickered like an old married couple, we've made out and well I'm literally in your bed right now," you couldn't help but laugh at his comment, you smacked his arm with your free hand. "What I'm saying is that we've messed up order of things, yes, but I want to make things right between us. What do you say about giving us a chance? Will you go out with me?" God what a dork, you couldn't help but smile.

"Can I hug you?" Seungmin clearly didn't expect to be hit with the same question he asked you when he got here, but despite his surprise, he immediately opened his arms. Feeling a bit brave, you scooted closer and got between his arms. It felt nice, his arms holding you tight, his head on top of yours, your face on his chest feeling the warmth of his skin through soft material of his (your) shirt. The shirt smelled like your laundry detergent but it already started smelling like Seungmin and it soothed you. You had no idea when did you associate his smell with comfort but you were not mad about it. You also felt how hard his heart was beating. You weren't delusional after all huh.

"You better take me to a nice place on our date Seungmin. Don't make me regret giving us a chance." You could've said it better but this was all you mastered to mutter out. Seungmin hugged you tighter, now even enterwinning your legs together. You felt at peace. Like everything was at it's place right now.

"Wouldn't even dream of it sunshine." He kissed your forehead. You looked up at him. He looked really cute with his cheek smushed up on your pillow, with messy hair and with your shirt. You couldn't help but lean in and softly seal your lips together which were as soft and nice as you remembered.

You had a feeling you wouldn't really regret giving you two a chance, you just had to wait and see.

A/N- I can't believe I have finished writing this. It's definitely more different than I usually write and I really hope you'll like it. Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️ If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

[horse-girl-anthy]

this is gonna be an off the cuff ramble/vent so don't read if that doesn't interest you.

I am thinking I'm going to back away from Ikuhara fandom in the next six months (coinciding with when I finish the rewatches I'm doing in my server). I feel like I've exhausted what I have to say about his shows, and I've also developed a very specific way of understanding them which clashes with others. I'm torn between feeling like it's worth trying to delineate my own understanding and feeling that I'm just being territorial, pedantic, or close minded. at a certain point, even if I could be proved "right" on my interpretations, I'm losing the enjoyment I should have in the stories by caring what other people think about them. at the moment, I'm thinking I want to flesh a couple more ideas and then let it rest. I'll always be grateful to Ikuhara and happy I put time into this blog, but nothing lasts forever.

so all of that to say... I was on the fence about writing what I'm about to write. I recommend people who don't want to read someone objecting to common RGU fan interpretations to just check out now. I'm not trying to start anything. but after reflecting on it, I decided it to share my thoughts on this topic; I think it's worth saying, even if it makes me look contrarian or problematic.

---

I watched RGU in 2014, right as the western fandom was experiencing a shift in how it approached the show. I won't detail all that went on during that time--today I'm specifically interested in two characters: Nanami and Miki.

before, I'd say the fandom was overall less critical. things were taken more at face value. for instance, Nanami was not always taken seriously, while characters like Miki, just because they were "nice," were seen as "good guys." however as time's wore on, there's been a backlash to that way of approaching the show. the characters most likely to have received misogynistic hate in the past (Anthy, Shiori, Nanami, and Kozue, mainly) were reinterpreted, while "good guy" characters were increasingly scrutinized.

that was a good thing, as it was a counterbalance to the previous attitude. however, it's been more than a decade since I joined the fandom, and I still see people talking like it's 2014. the way that people have reinterpreted the anime has, often, not resulted in interesting readings. this is because people are still applying an ideological lens to the story, rather than engaging with how it presents itself.

I specifically want to highlight Nanami in this regard. I check the RGU tag almost every single day, and I have seen scores of posts which are nigh-identical to each other. it's always people talking about how she's a "calf to the slaughter," she's actually a victim, etc. and I just... don't get anything out of it.

I think a lot of this shift began with this essay series called Palace Perspective. it's been a long time since I read it--actually before my Utena renaissance--but I didn't like it at the time. it was written in this very self-serious style, and all I remember it arguing was "Nanami is a victim, Touga is a bad guy." I'd loved the Touga/Nanami relationship since I first watched RGU, and that was never how I felt about it. Touga certainly harms Nanami, but based on the series itself, it seemed to me that in large part, Touga was the victim, and Nanami was harmed by his victimization.

anyway, since around the time that essay series came out, people have had this attitude of "actually Nanami is a very deep character, you guys," as if it needs to be repeated over and over. and there's a denial that Nanami is a comic relief character--"actually her being funny is just a ruse because the show is camouflaging that she's a victim!" okay, yes, they do lure you in to Nanami's story slowly; she's initially silly, but all along hiding under that was some serious shit. I'm not denying that. but I'm also not buying that line entirely.

the Shadow Girls do an entire play about how Nanami's comedic suffering is the result of her own actions (they call it "divine justice"). take episode 16 specifically. yes, we have Nanami dreaming about being a calf for the slaughter. that is a great scene and indicative of the unhealthy relationship between her and Touga. but isn't the crux of the episode that Nanami is making a fool of herself??? she tries to one-up Juri at a party. her failure to realize what the cowbell is highlights her ignorance. the show is absolutely poking fun at her. you can go into why Nanami ended up this way, but I don't understand how we've gotten to the point where people are so over-serious about Nanami--and RGU in general--that they can't laugh at it.

I'll take a detour here to talk about Miki. it's become increasingly popular to frame him as a sexist--I've even seen him termed a "raging misogynist." he gets blamed for his strained relationship with his sister and written off as "just as bad as the other male characters." that's another case where I really don't see it. or at least, I feel like people have lost track of degrees in these things. Miki seems unsure of what he believes, sometimes expressing progressive views but other times regressive ones, and he does act within a patriarchal system. but does he comport himself that badly? or is he just a normal 13-year-old boy who falls into temptation?

I want to make a comparison between him and Nanami here. I think you could make a very real case that Nanami has far more sexist beliefs than Miki. she treats every female character as competition, as a hussy out to steal her brother. when she finds out the truth about Anthy and Akio, she immediately jumps to victim blaming Anthy. and another thing: Nanami plays princess.

the fact that so many people write about Nanami but this aspect of her character is rarely commented on is mind boggling. it's like, her whole thing. Nanami wants to be the center of the universe; Touga is her everything and she wants to possess Touga. she constantly acts the victim and tries to manipulate things so her enemies look like the villain.

I'm not saying this to shit on Nanami! I love Nanami, she's one of my favorite characters of all time! but I've found it alienating to be in a fandom where whitewashing is framed as appreciation. even her backstory: people make post after post about how it wasn't Nanami's fault she killed the cat, because she's a victim. here's the problem with that: why are we engaging with the story on the level of blame? I recently read an essay on methods of analysis that placed "vilification and heroization" as the lowest form of engagement with fiction. I understand why someone would want to defend a character from attack, but aside from like, youtube comments or old forum posts, who exactly is attacking Nanami? and also, how is saying "actually she's a victim so that explains everything" accomplishing anything?

I am being unfair here, because some people do engage with the work enough to say more than that. people will point to the neglect Nanami experienced as the cause of her behavior. that's there, it's certainly there. I'm not objecting to serious attempts to explain character motivation in reaction to vilifiction, but more to the impulse to try to paint characters as morally pure. isn't Nanami so great because she's so complicated? when people approach the story with the drive to whitewash, so much of the nuance and feeling of the work goes unnoticed. episode 31 and 32 do portray Nanami as a victim (of Touga and of her parents and of Akio). however, they also portray Nanami's motivations, and not all of them are pretty. over the course of the arc, you watch her entire worldview fall apart. it doesn't matter whether it's "her fault" she has that worldview--the process is painful and humiliating either way.

all of this carries through to how people react to both Nanami's final scene in the show and her comic relief section in the film. the comic relief scene is bad because it doesn't take Nanami seriously enough, while her final scene is bad because it shows her waiting on Touga and Saionji, which is sexist because she's partaking in traditional gender roles. the only way I can understand those reactions is that people didn't actually pay attention to how she was portrayed in the show, as a comic relief character or as a serious character. I'd understand the objection if Anthy's final scene involved her waiting on Akio, but Anthy and Nanami are different characters (I also don't get much out of the endless Anthy/Nanami posts because of how they are flattened in comparisons). unlike Anthy, Nanami spent the entire show demanding to be waited on, but when we see her for the last time, she's contentedly serving others. that is called character development.

I wanted to highlight Miki and Nanami because I feel they point to a major problem of the fandom: the maintenance of the prince and the princess, just with new definitions. the prince is bad, masculine, harmful, and needs to be rejected. the princess is good, feminine, eternally victimized, and above question. I find this sad because I thought we were supposed to be transcending the gender binary. I know saying this makes me sound anti-feminist, but I'm not. I'm not saying "oh we need to transcend the gender binary by never criticizing men or ignoring how women are victimized"; that would be stupid. but my vision of feminism is vigilantly critical of all things, evaluates each situation on an individual basis, and avoids self-flattery and self-deception.

[nomoreusername]

Out of Denial

Pairing:Gally x gender neutral reader

Summary: Seeing Gally again brings up emotions you thought you pushed past.

“You were supposed to be dead?!”

“Good to see you too.”

“That's not-that isn't what I meant. It's just-I-we watched you get impaled. That would kill anyone. How are you here, Gally? That's insane. This is insane,”I rambled.

“So is life, seeing as I’m still in it.”

“This is crazy. This just feels like a nightmare,”I admitted, handing him the icepack for his nose. While it didn't look swollen, Thomas had still punched him in the face. Who knows what he would look like tomorrow?

Who even knew he would be awake tomorrow?

I certainly didn't.

“I don't know what you want me to say. I survived, I got picked up, now I’m here,”He listed, placing it on his face.

“That’s an insane thing to survive though. It’s almost unsurvivable, and you're just alive? I mean I’m happy about that. I really am, but it's still a lot. You could always be unexpected, but this is a new level,”I tried to explain.

“I’m alive though. Shouldn't that make you happy?”He pointed out.

“It's not that easy. I have been grieving you for almost a year now. I lived my life in constant mourning for people dying in front of me and for the person who means everything. Now that you're actually here, my mind has this urge to deny everything else. It wants to make up stories where I can see Alby and Winston and everyone else again,”I sighed, purposely not saying Chuck. Sitting beside him, I rested my head on the couch as I looked at him, my feet tucked under me as I took in the information.

“This is good though. It should be good that I’m alive,”He mumbled.

“It is, but it just makes me want to make up all these stories that I know aren't true. It's like since one person I care about isn't actually dead, maybe nobody else is either. Maybe everyone else is living out a secret life. And I know that sounds crazy, and I know it isn't true, but some part of me is so tempted to believe it.”

“I’m sorry. I really wanted to contact you, but I didn't know how. I didn't know where to even start looking, and I didn't know if anybody would want to see me. I didn't mean to make it harder.”

“It's not that you made it harder. I used to spend almost all my time justifying exactly this. Justifying why you were actually okay and safe. Then, I had to push past that and accept that you were never coming back. Now you are back though, and I have to accept that that's not happening for anybody else. It's a lot to take in and accept, on top of what we came here for. There's just so much going on in so little time.”

“I know there is, and I hate that I just threw this on you, but I had to. I saw you, and I had to see you for real again.”

“Gally, do you think that everything will just go back to the way it was before this?”I asked slowly, my expression dropping at the thought.

“No. Not really, but a guy can dream,”He shrugged, leaning his head back. He placed his icepack in his lap before turning to face me. “So where do we start then? Where do we go from here?”

“I don't know,”I admitted.

“Well, I don't either. I wish I did, that I had the answers, but I barely have answers for what's been going on in the past several months, much less hours.”

“It's not your fault,”I repeated.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I can't tell anymore.”

“I can, and you know I’ll call you out when you do something wrong. Right now, you don't have to be. You’ve been through enough. We all have, and it's not your fault life won't give any of us a break.”

“You really mean that?”

“Of course,”I smiled.

“Well, thanks. For the advice. And the icepack,”He smiled back, holding it up.

“It was the least I could do after leaving you like that,”I promised.

“You don't think I blame you for that, do you?”

“I don't know. I’ve been trying not to think about it,”I admitted.

“But now you have to,”He added, reading my mind.

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

“And I have to help think about what we do next, don't I?”

“About us?”I confirmed.

“Yeah. About us.”

“Yeah. I guess you do.”