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fruit-salad-ship · 1 year ago

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Cyberpunk au thoughts while I can’t sleep.

Grey is as city kid as he gets, undercuts his competitors, gambles, cheats, but comes out on top most of the time. Though peach has had to save his sorry ass once or twice. LOVES working on her, she’s got her hands on some seriously expensive, unusual tech, he figures out all too quickly she’s a corpo run away, the gear she’s using is too high quality to be street installed, you don’t even see this in the military. Whatever she’s working with is clearly a set of unusual prototypes. She doesn’t explain where she got them, only that no one but him needs to know this. Strike it from the records.

He does a good job keeping peach in working order, despite how many odd bugs her gear has, they don’t seem to be lasting or fatal, but she can patch in and out from time to time, a very mild form of cyber psychosis, lasts a few seconds at best, but it’s like the gear she’s got has been engineered to combat that illness, and is doing a good job of keeping it at bay. He however knows that she can’t remove this gear, can’t downsize at all, ever, if she does she’ll snap like a twig and go nuts. Whatever she’s got, she’s stuck with it. His competence and discrete methods are useful to her, it’s the only reason she sticks with the big lug, that and he owes her a lot of money from her paying his gambling debts off. He gets to see how top of the line chrome works, and in turn can make his installs on more ordinary equipment far better, gaining notoriety for his work fast. And perhaps he’s entertaining, so peach gets to cash in maintenance to cover what he owes her, he’s skilled enough to tamper with her kit and not kill her in the process.

It’s a love hate situation, he jokes he could just install faulty gear, remove something while she’s under, and she snidely bites back that he won’t find a better bodyguard if she dies because of his half assed work, and her dying isn’t good for business. All bark no bite, the both of them. They would kill for each other but won’t ever say it, you got to be tough in the streets, no signs of weakness or soft methods, or people walk all over you. But they drink and laugh together, and bond eventually over beating up punk ass kids trying to mug them on the street.

Plum fist shows up at the door of a club peach is bouncing on, pretends to have no eddies, and says she’ll pay her tab in a more fun way. Peach is irked, doesn’t like the advances, hears it all the time, you can’t pay, then you get thrown out, or the venue owners might even salvage some of your installed tech to pay the debt. Plus plum’s too nosey, peach caught her trying to dive into her head, but her pricey corpo security got in the way, software to prevent people finding out just who she is and where she came from. She upgraded and maxed out that line of defence so no one knew how to crack her. The plan to get this woman alone to short her cyberwars out and get her picked up and taken home flatlines, plum is left with no choice, has to accept defeat this time and try again some other way. She leaves, and peach is left to do her job, charming some of the staff, enjoying a drink at the end of her shift and heading home. Plum loses her in the streets, somehow she’s pretty sly for someone so big.

Next time they meet peach recognises her instantly, doesn’t like that she slid up next to her at some back alley noodle bar while she’s getting ready to go to work, tells her to get lost. Plum does not. Obviously. In fact she just keeps following her, not a threat, but definitely annoying as all hell. Hangs about during her job, tries to charm her into a drink, fails, and this goes on for a while, weeks even.

Eventually being worn down, peach just accepts that plums not going anywhere, and annoyingly she’s proven useful on rare occasion, shutting people’s cyberware down who try to pick fights in the street, jamming guns pulled on her even though her armour upgrades can take the hit. Plum pretends she doesn’t know exactly what tech her target is working with. Eventually peach sits down at a bar and buys this woman a drink, saved her some scrapes and bruises, asks just what her angle is. Why’s she doing this? The only thing plum can do is lie, and she does well, says she knows peach from a long time ago, remembers her from school, a seriously high powered academy, that plum knew her from there meant she too was from a powerful place. But she says she’s running, and apparently peach did that pretty well, no one’s been able to find her, plum stresses that no one’s been able to find her since she disappeared, so who better to get tips from than someone who did it so well people stopped looking for her? Every red flag is raised, this little woman knows her, and if she knows her, and she’s here, who’s stopping others coming after her? How did she even find her? Plum says it was luck, right bar, right might, right time. It’s all a little too convenient. The questions are rigorous, but to peach, plum seems like she’s genuinely trying to get away from it all, plum paints this sob story, about being neglected and having a crap life, how money didn’t help, it just was a tool for manipulation, the evil shit she had to do to fit in. Peach isn’t buying it, but definitely understands the sentiment, IF it’s honest. And for now, despite her worries, tolerates plum being around. She got out, maybe it’s not impossible to think someone else did too. At least until she can prove one way or another that this woman’s telling the truth or not, she will put up with her. Plum is now right where she needs to be, getting closer to her target. There’s a lot of money riding on getting peach back to her family, she could gain some huge favours for completing this, make leaps in the corporate world.

Peach can’t hack well, it’s not her thing, she was always more athletic, better with a gun, with a weapon, with her hands, so background checking plum isn’t an option, but she asks grey to do it. He is ok at this, not the best but not the worst, regardless, he comes up with nothing, plums backgrounds been wiped for this job she’s doing, she’s been given a fake life, fake crimes committed, and even to him, it looks pretty believable. They’re none the wiser that she’s just infiltrating their ranks, and peach seems more open to her story knowing the records track. But she is aware that if this is a lie, the first thing someone would do would be to write a new past. She did it, it’s not impossible to think someone else could.

Life becomes more difficult for plum. Peach’s upgrades have rendered her too tough to take out in one hit, even if she’s fully hacked and immobilised, she’s surrounded herself with loyal people who she’s helped and who owe her, getting her alone is hard, and harder yet is getting her picked up by corpo security. Plum has a ten minute window to do it before peach would be back up and running, and passed off. Plums got to nail the hack before even a single interruption can occur, no mistakes, even in her impossibly tight.y encoded mind. Whatever’s been installed in this woman was to stop people hacking her long term, following her, or diving into her records. And so the long con begins. Charm her, be sweet, be naughty, be devious, be smart, be whatever peach wants to let her get closer, get in her home, behind locked doors where help won’t arrive in time. But peach is cautious, doesn’t cave to the attempts to woo her, gets a weird vibe off plum. It takes plum months, nearly a year to wear her acquaintance down. But eventually peach seems relaxed enough around her. She can be in her lap and not cause her to be on edge, plums able to get real close, enough to manually override her operating systems as soon as soon as that windows there, and the time is right. She’s charmed herself into a strategic position.

Only problem is plum is starting to see the genuine appeal. She’s getting more shreds of this woman’s past, honest stories that actually paint a worse picture than she thought, and soon there’s a realisation that in sending peach home, she’d be sentencing her to a fate worse than death, living as a person she hates, doing things she never wanted to do, following the steps of a family she did not want to be part of. Eventually plum realises death might still come for her, some of the family want peach gone, some want her to stay away, stay in the streets, not return to take up the mantle. They’ll kill her if she comes back, or try at least. Somehow staying in the deadly streets of the city is safer than the walls of her home.

Suddenly it makes sense, grey overhears these conversations, they hang out in his den, where he works on clients, he isn’t oblivious to their chats. Peach’s implants are so special because she’s the test subject. When she ran, she ran with crazy expensive one of a kind gear, and the family want it back, those assets, HER, both are invaluable, they’re not just off the shelf, these are made to turn this woman into a killer, a real killer, one who’ll get away with it no matter what. They’re custom fit to her genetic code, you can’t rip them out and stick them in someone else, you can’t tamper with them, they’re unique and the engineering that’s gone into them is above and beyond what’s available even at the highest pay grade. Peach’s family want their little murderer back, to complete the install process, she’s missing a couple parts still, they want to finish the job and finally have her back working for them.

Then comes the moment plum had been hoping for. A little drunk, a little high, a little tired, peach lets her into her home, a small apartment full of plants, tidier and far more thought out than plum had expected. She has the shot, that loud city ambiance the only real sound as her host is kind enough to offer a drink, to pull a smoke, to let her into her life more than ever before. Plum questions if she can hand her in, take the money, take the power and just pretend like the last year with her wasn’t fun, and interesting, and real, especially compared to how plum’s old life was. Locked up in her room diving into files and memories, not making her own. But she lived, for real, even if only for a moment, beside peach and grey.

Peach catches plum in the corner of her eye, her vision patching in and out, plums tampering with her tech, she let her into her home and the second her back was turned this little devious snake turned around and bit her. She goes down hard, a system key given by peach’s family able to shut down the cyberware temporarily, ceasing her up, she’s vulnerable, she’s barely conscious, and yet she’s looking at her. There is anger, and then after a while, the anger subsides, and it’s just sorrow. Peach realises who she let close, a traitor, someone sent to bring her home. Plum apologises, sees her target finally fall unconscious and is left to sit and hover over the option of calling in the security detail to pick them up. It’d be so fast, so easy, the moneys right there, the powers right there. Plum realises if she doesn’t get peach home she’s as good as dead, not only would peach try to kill her no doubt, but her family would for failing too…but if she does complete the job and goes home to continue her isolated life in a tall tower away from everyone, that peach would be crushed down to fit the job role she was designated with, filled with tech she didn’t want, until it no doubt took over who she was leaving a compliant husk of her former self. She’d be a walking weapon, nothing more.

Plum doesn’t know what to do.

#ok now I can try to not think about this #and fail #and think about it constantly #fruit salad #brainrot #cyberpunk au

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mesanthropi · 1 year ago

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— EPISODE 3. (JUNHUI)

title: it's never too late to adopt! even if it's ghosts. (alt title: you have a daughter, i adopted a ghost and we watch cocomelon. we are not the same.)

— episode details: 2.6k words. warns/tws includes some language, an attempt at horror, secondhand embarrassment, implications of death. also some REALLY out of pocket shit from jun in the latter half, i swear to god

(it may be confusing with the format we're writing these in. so like, be warned!! its kinda like. multi,, pov ish in a sense with the narrative. but at the same time, i have no idea either)

w's annotation: i've considered going back and editing it from top to bottom just because it seems weirdly paced- but it's already so lengthy. plus, we've done what we could and that's ok ^^ but im not gonna lie. the ending was a bit hard to do because like- words weren't wording!! i had to do it like this im soso sorry. also, it's REALLY fucking long, so it'll be utc. please enjoy :3

— previous (mingyu) ; masterlist ; next (cheol)

; camping with the 95z and 96z guys is always a delight, if you put aside all the bullshit they get into. one simple detail was that sometimes, they think of the most random things to do.

; and one big example that was not in fact hypothetical, is playing truth or dare. no drinking, just going all crazy because they can, and YOLO as one does.

; and junhui was glad (very fucking happy even) that they'd played this dumb truth or dare game before evening. otherwise, he'd be switching lanes and begging for joshua to give him a truth.

; it was about five in the afternoon then, and he was strutting into a forest with many dark rumors surrounding it, like they didn't exist at all. no phone, no emotional support, and a complementary horror game flashlight. he's killing it, you guys.

; the rumors were mainly things like- "oh, some people came in here and never lived to see the light of day," or "deep inside, there's a monster that lures children and eats them", things like that. obviously just some things to keep their kids from wandering too far.

; and to be honest, he didn't believe that shit. people lived beside the forest, there was a camping site that they could have to themselves beside the forest, and like- google showed that there was a neat lake on the other side of this forest.

; there was literally nothing to be scared of, the fuck are these people on?? (the last thoughts of a dead man, 2023)

; but back to the present. with his long legs and his audacity, jun was near the very heart of the forest. even when the sun was starting to set, he pushed through because fuck it, it's wen junhui.

; (plus, if he managed to come back unscathed and untraumatized, joshua owed him cash. anything for that man's money.)

; though all he'd been hearing on the way were the leaves crunching underneath his shoes, the occasional whistle of the wind, and a bird. normal things that were to be expected in a place of nature and greenery. blinding in the day, calming in the afternoon, and horrible in the night.

; despite what could happen, the what-if's and such, jun just continued for the sake of the dare. though in the back of his mind, maybe he should have brought his phone. so in case some axe killer was about to end his life, he could call joshua and blame him.

; (no, he'd call the police, duh.)

; and finally, after like. about two hours - though in reality, it's only been thirty-two minutes - something was off. what he shouldn't be hearing in this forest is other people, let alone people who were like. a decade and seven years younger than him.

; there were children laughing in the near distance, and the ravenette couldn't help but look to where it was coming from. his curiosity was accompanied by concern, as this laughter was accompanied by one person's cries.

; were they laughing at this nameless figure, or was the crying just… extreme laughing? he couldn't tell with just sounds. and when words started to become coherent, jun snuck over to a tree nearest to these people, and eavesdropped. (stupid, he's aware, but curiosity's killing the cat right now. very slowly.)

; "come on, candy, we've been here for a while now! you're scared of a little dark forest? huh?" some kid said to this girl curled up on the ground, crying into her hands. "seriously, this is probably why you're here in the first place."

; pause, what.

; 'candy' looked up, and even if jun was peeking from behind the oak, he could see that she didn't like what the other had said. not at all.

; a more lanky girl rolled her eyes and circled her, until she was standing right behind the shimmery form. "shut up, viv, you're making her cry. like a baby. we're supposed to be nice to babies, right? where's your mom, candy?"

; this was getting weird.

; "oh my god, you didn't," viv elbowed her. "you literally just said to be nice to her."

; "i am, viv. i wanna try helping candy, we have to find her mommy," she sing-songed, nudging the helpless girl with her knee. "or maybe she's at the lake with the rest of us!"

; "shut up, ivy!" she finally snapped, getting up on her feet with her small hands grabbing fistfuls of her vest. "you pushed me! i didn't even mean to-"

; "hey hey hey, stop that right now!" jun finally broke the almost never-ending commotion but with the blank stares he received, he thought onto his plan b. as the kids stared at him in silence, clearing his throat, he rested his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. "bullying is not right!" ah yes. very mature. using his 'opera singer' voice.

; the reactions were flipped from his expectations. while he expected a more of a guilty look, all he heard were small snorts and giggles coming from the established bullies.

; "is he really doing this right now-" vivi managed through her laughs. "that voice was so bad." ivy only nodded along, sort of doubled over with one hand on the other girl's shoulder. "and that pose- vivi, what is he, really, somebody's dad? get a load of this, candy."

; the mentioned child rolled her eyes this time, unamused by the two's antics. this thankfully went unnoticed as they were more focused on… to them, this weirdo that came out of nowhere.

; humiliated? yes. jun was that very word at that moment. a grown man now being a target of the endless bullying was about to be his 13th reason.

; "w-well, maybe i am her dad!" he was not this child's father. "and i'm actually… looking to take her back home with my very loving wife who is in fact her very mother, so excuse us," jun improvised as he approached the girls and ushered candy away from ivy and vivi. "i'll be taking her away from the likes of you two. i'm definitely telling your parents about this."

; (note from author w.: i'm amused but also getting secondhand embarrassment)

; as they were leaving them behind, candy spared him a glance, brows furrowed as he was recovering from the situation they were walking away from. only then did she speak up when they were further away. "um… thank you."

; "... i couldn't leave you with those two," he murmured, rubbing his neck with his free hand. then jun kneeled in front of the girl, checking anywhere for anything. "did they hurt you at all? push you, pull you, anything?"

; "no... not physically at least," candy answered, growing quiet near the end of her reply. she studied the man in front of her, eyes following as he actively searched for any wounds or potential signs of more life-threatening scars. the forest wasn't… exactly the safest place. especially for a child. let alone three of them- because while the two were particularly not the most pleasant kids around, they were still… you know, kids.

; it was on the backburner for now though, because his current concern was candy.

; after jun close inspection, he finally eyed the girl. "alright. do you know where your parents are? any relatives?" his now stable voice quired, and a sense of relief washed over his whole being after a slight nod from candy.

; "thank god. let's get you out of this forest and then you can try to lead me to them, yeah?"

candy sighed. "u-um… they're dead. both of them. you can't actually lead me to them… unless you were some kind of wizard." if the atmosphere wasn't tense before, it surely was now. probably even more unbearable and a bit suffocating.

; after a bit of silence, a small 'oh' was all jun could utter out. afraid if he says something more, this little girl will unleash all of her pent up rage and rip him into shreds.

; "... i'm… sorry," the older awkwardly responded. "i'm no wizard. but it must've been hard." the nonchalant shrug was a bit surprising though, as she wrung her hands. "mama's always said that i'm ahead of other girls. i know how to do stuff."

; jun words fell short. nods sending the basic sign that he was indeed listening. the slightly bewildered man cleared his throat, "let's… get you out of here. we'll figure out what to do afterwards." he nodded along with his request and candy copied the same gesture, also a bit hesitant on the next step of this mission.

; if joshua was expecting anything from jun once he was out, it would not have included an abandoned child he rescued from a forest with bullies. but hey, jun is a (in)sane man full of many quirks.

; the mission out was fairly simple… to people who had this forest down by memory. jun was almost a lost soul upon the tall trees and the secrets that lie in the dark within. "you don't know how to get out, don't you?" candy wasn't shocked in the slightest. what do you even expect from a wannabe opera singer? exactly.

; "my friends just sent me in here! it's not like they gave me a map!" the male exclaimed, anxiety lacing his voice. he exhaled heavily while he combed his tensed hands in his unraveled hair.

; silence once again engulfed them along with the trees. candy willingly letting it swallow them both whole for she can let the oblivious man calm down and then process that there was indeed a path that can lead them out. he was literally on said path.

; "mister..." the more put together girl called out to the man pacing around. murmuring something along the lines of 'what am i going to do?' and 'where am i going to shit and piss here?' but candy really did not want to know the answer to the latter. "HEY, SIR." jun panicked motions come to an abrupt pause, heaving a bit shakily. "there's a path." candy hands rose and motioned forward towards the remainder of the trail ahead, leading to where he'd entered from.

; something took over jun. a sense of relief that he doesn't have to shit in a nearby bush and wipe with sticks? possibly. but whatever it was, it prompted him to do something.

; he took candy's hand (or tried to) and began to zoom ahead. only slowing and coming to a complete halt when he didn't hear the second pair of quick footsteps following behind. in a swift motion, he turned back around just to realize that girl was still glued to her place and has not moved not even an inch.

; did he miss her hand? as bamboozled and startled as he was, he treaded back and went towards candy again. steps slow and steady.

; once a few inches in front of the child, he reached for her hand again. this time making direct contact to make sure for a fact he grasps her hand this time.

; every inch closer his hand gets, the more goosebumps start to cover his skin. like seriously. his hand was freezing as the proximity between him and the child shrunk. as if candy radiated the season of winter from her very self.

; he slowly began to close his hand around the girls and… it went right through her. only the icy temperature wrapping onto him. what? what kind of AI bullshit is this? once again and the same outcome happened. it took jun a few (many) times before his mind started to click into place that this was not going to have his way.

; he even went to the girl's other hand just to make sure his mind was not in fact teasing him. he already has to deal with that at home. "w-what is going on?" jun fested up. eyeing candy with a bit of hope because he did in fact know what was going on. but confirmation is what he needed and man… did he hope for one answer to his masked question.

; "do you promise not to get scared?" it wasn't a direct answer, but jun did get what he wanted from that question alone. the much more taller man bent down again, slowly shaking his head.

; candy stared the man down before admitting her truth. "i'm a ghost."

a beat of silence. a silent 'i see' coming from the other. all he could do after though was stare at the girl blankly, expecting a laugh or a twist of emotion spiking out after her funny bone was picked a little too much but… nothing. just a look full of expectancy.

; "how did you die?" jun broke down the silent bubble. wow. what a way to add to the list of conversation starters.

; "can we go?" candy smoothly dodged the ticket to reiterate her very short-term life. "i know you want to leave too."

; 'right.' jun placed himself back onto his feet with practiced ease. except the small ache in his knees but look, aging comes with some consequences. "just… follow along."

; it took maybe around 20 minutes before finally hearing the passing of cars and an added 5 minutes before they were back on the sidewalk where joshua basically ended the poor man's life. the two stood there for a moment, breathing in fresher and less suffocating air

; "thank you," jun heard candy speak out, and he was supposed to say something back with a turn of the head, but found nobody there. as if this couldn't get any weirder, the girl's sudden disappearance prompted him to do a double take, turn on his heel to get a 360 on where she could have gone.

; then again, he remembered what she'd said before; she's dead. a ghost, a spirit, and maybe she'd been put to rest by leaving that forest. leaving behind those other two girls who were picking on her, for no reason too, might he add.

; with a sigh and a lot of questions left unanswered (he didn't know if he wanted any answers anyway), the ravenette walked off to the campsite, just about done with the night. hopefully there was food, and hopefully the others were ready to be on jun control. the guy was ready to throttle joshua on sight because what the hell was that.

; for the rest of his stay, whenever silence enveloped the area, all that occupied his thoughts were candy's wherabouts and what exactly happened in the forest. that feeling from when he attempted to hold her hand, it was worry, and it was coming back despite the child's absence around him.

; even with her circumstances, he couldn't help but feel this way. he couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to her. but that could be saved for… some other time, or whenever he could think about it. life was full of mysterious things, after all.

. . .

(two days later, they all went back home to their respective places of residence, and jun was the last. his belongings were on his couch and coffee table, to be re-organized into their spaces in a couple hours. there was no way that there was energy left after that trip back, the guy's only plan was to sleep with his bag as a pillow.

after waving off wonwoo and telling him not to die on the way back (what the hell), jun closed the door and let out a breath. though upon turning around, that breath transitioned into a scream. it was followed by the coat rack getting knocked over when he stumbled. he stared in shock, for the nth time that week, at the girl that stood there.

"... c-candy, how did you get inside my house-")

#👻・MUNI13 #selenicives.chr ✶#moonlit tracts ✶#wen junhui

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ghcstlyhearts · 1 year ago

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CHARACTER BASICS

Full Name: Weston Alexander Porter

Nickname: West, Wes, Westie

Age: 24

Gender: Demi Man

Pronouns: He & They

Ethnicity: Kamilaroi

Nationality: Australian

Education: High school, though he's taught himself a few things

Occupation: Creator of Pigeon

Hometown: Byron Bay, New South Wales

Current location: Moonlit Creek

Species: Lycanthrope - bitten around a year ago by an unknown wolf

Written Aesthetics: Trembling hands, bitten nails, mischievous grins & nervous laughter.

trigger warnings: drugs

CHARACTER APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Thomas Weatherall

Height: 5'8"

Hair Colour: Black

Eye Colour: Dark Brown

Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous

Distinguishing Features: Bite mark on his left hip, claw scars on his right shoulder, plus various little scars littering torso & legs, a small scar on the top of his lip on the right, left ear piercing.

SUPERNATURAL EXTRAS

Abilities: heightened strength, speed, agility, and reflexes, enhanced senses, accelerated healing, shapeshifting ( though he hasn't got the hang of this entirely ), enhanced endurance & tracking abilities.

Have you always been aware of your abilities?: No, I only got them when I was bitten a year ago.

Favorite Magical Items: He’s unsure if it’s actually magical, but he wears a small clear quartz charm on a chain. It was given to him years ago, by a friend, for “protection” and he hasn’t taken it off since.

What supernatural creature is your character most scared of?: Literally all of them, having not known of supernatural creatures before he got bitten, he has little knowledge of them and finds them pretty terrifying.

Who or what would they die for? Anyone he cares about, he would die for his friends, his father figure - he’s an extremely loyal friend who will go to the ends of the earth for anyone.

Does your character fight or flee? Flee, he hates the idea of hurting anyone and avoids violence if he can help it.

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: Warm-hearted, Intuitive & Loyal.

Negative Traits: Nervous, Scatter-brained & Naïve.

Neutral Traits: Competitive, Intense & Sarcastic.

Goals/desires: His true desire in life is to find a family and settle down with someone he loves, though part of him believes he’ll never achieve it. Mostly though, he just wants to be happy.

Fears: Being alone, hurting someone, failure, letting people down, loud noises.

Hobbies: Hacking, gaming, anything to do with computers or tech. He also loves to cook.

Habits: Biting his nails, chewing on his lower lip, smoking weed, drumming his fingers against a surface, messing up his hair, cooking far too much food when he’s stressed.

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT Q’S

QUESTION ONE: were you born on the island, if so, what kind of curiosities do you have about the world beyond? if you weren’t, what do you miss about the world outside veritas isles? “I wasn’t, though I’m not sure I actually miss the outside world. I didn’t really have a lot going for me over there, maybe some of the technology?”

QUESTION TWO: what is your favorite part about the island? “Honestly, I’m not sure yet, I rather like exploring the different places. The diner is pretty good but this island is a lot bigger than I’d thought it would be.”

QUESTION THREE: if your character is supernatural, do they fear humans? if human, do they fear the supernatural? “Supernaturals scare me a lot more than humans, after all one did bite me and leave me alone.”

QUESTION FOUR: share a fun headcanon or fact about your character! this doesn’t have to be long, just something to introduce us to your character! While he’ll often do odd jobs for cash, including hacking gigs, Wes’ main focus is the social media site he created solely for the island. He called it Pigeon, after joking to someone if he had to contact them through carrier pigeon when they mentioned they didn’t have social media on the island. He mostly did it for a laugh, and didn’t expect it to actually get popular.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION BIO | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Father Figure / Mentor - They found him left abanoned the night after the full moon, having been bitten and reluctantly took him in, but has grown ( somewhat reluctantly ) fond of him over the year.

Sire - The wolf that bit him, it would have been a year ago, and they would have been somewhere in the outside world.

Childhood Best Friend - They'd be 24, probably Australian & I'm thinking a witch. They adored Weston, wanting to protect him from harm. When they moved away, they gave Weston a charm necklace for protection. It's what saved his life the night of the wolf attack. They've not seen each other since they were young, though, and he was unaware they were a witch.

Foster Family - He was in foster care for eighteen years, if anyone is from the outside world & Australia, they could have been in foster care with him.

Friends - He's pretty sociable, and I imagine he's found several friends whilst coming to the island.

Close friends - Since meeting them, they're as thick as thieves, despite only knowing each other a short time.

Packs ?? - He's a lone wolf right now, so perhaps they're trying to recruit him??

#about; weston porter.#task; weston porter.#vih.task01 #vih.intro

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qqueenofhades · 3 years ago

Note

Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #covid for ts #i had a lot to say evidently #rant

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kpop---scenarios · 3 years ago

Text

Cravings || One

Pairing: Vampire! Hongjoong x Reader

Warning: None Yet

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: If you would like to be tagged, let me know!

"Babe, hey babe." Your boyfriend, Chad calls out to you, as you're sitting at the kitchen table, running over over bills again and trying to figure out how the fuck you're going to try to pay everything. You worked damn hard, and barely had anything to show for it. Ever since Chad had moved in a few months ago, without an invitation, you were stressed. Everything had gone up and doubled since he hadn't left, and he also hadn't contributed anything financially towards the household. You paid for rent, utilities, groceries and you even paid when the two of you went out for dinner. Chad worked full time, but where his money was going, you had no fucking idea. He constantly went out with his 'boys' , often coming home obliterated, and just expecting you to have your legs spread open for him when he rolled in, apparently that was your duty as his girlfriend, according to him. As if not contributing and acting like a man child was such a turn on. Not to mention the countless hours he spent on your gaming console, yelling and talking to his friends, leaving you no time to play any games that you like, unless you wanted to wake up a few hours before you had to work to sneak on it. But by the time you got home from work, cleaned up the messes he made throughout the day, made yourself dinner, showered and got into your PJ'S, you were too damn tired to do anything. You knew you had to wake up the next day and do it all over again, so any sleep you got was precious.

A part of you often wondered why you were in this relationship with him. Maybe you were scared to be alone, maybe you didn't think you could do any better than him, but you stuck with him, because for some reason, you loved the guy.

"What do you want, Chad?" You sigh, walking into the living room where he's sprawled out on the couch, headset on and his match paused. "I'm trying to figure out bills, you know that thing that keeps us warm, and with light and hot water, that you said you'd help pay and haven't."

"Yeah, babe, can you go to the corner store and get those Takis, you know the ones I like? The not so spicy ones though babe, cause remember I have acid reflux, and a diet coke." He says, turning back to the screen, laughing at something said through his head phones.

You could feel the rage building up inside of you, awfully quick, and it was seeping out of you even quicker.

"Are you going to pay for said snacks?" You ask, trying to keep your voice calm.

"What?" He laughs. "Babe, no, come on. I'm broke. I don't get paid again for two weeks. You know this."

"You just got paid yesterday." You breathe through gritted teeth. "Where the hell did all your money go?" You ask, your hands balled into fists.

"You know babe, I had the fantasy football league entry, plus I owed Kyle money for the keg bomber last weekend, and I took the boys out for supper yesterday. Shit adds up." He says, never looking at you, only focusing on the game.

"And that's my problem, why exactly? Why is it always on me just because you're not financially stable. Grow up, you're 35 for christ sakes!" You yell. You stomp to the kitchen, grabbing your purse and slipping on your shoes before heading back into the living room.

"Yeah, she's got her shoes and purse." He laughs. "She's definitely going to get my stuff."

"You know what Chad? I'm definitely not going to get your snacks, get your own fucking snacks, Chaaad. I'm going for a drink, with my own goddamn money." You spit, storming out of the house.

You're wandering down the street, like you had been for the last thirty five minutes, and finally you found somewhere that looked decent enough. You walk in, and the lights are on very low, the place is almost dark, had it not been for the red lights swinging above tables, or the string of red lights wrapping around the ceiling. Your eyes wander the open floor of seating as a soft beat vibrates through the building. Every person in here who was sitting with someone was leaning closely to that person, seemingly having an intense conversation. The vibes felt dark and eerie, but you welcomed it, you enjoyed it instead of being around Chad's fuck boy mentality. You walk towards the bar, sliding onto one of the empty bar stools and setting your purse on your lap. Your eyes were looking down when you felt a presence standing in front of you. You look up and see quite possibly the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

"What can I get for you?" He asks, his voice is deep, yet so smooth and calming.

"Double vodka and coke please, and for the love of god, keep them coming." You sigh. After your comment you see the slightest hint of a smile appear on his lips, disappearing even quicker than it came.

"Bad day?" He asks, beginning to pour your drink.

"Bad relationship." You groan. He nods his head as he slides your drink towards you.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asks, leaning on the bar with his chin resting on his hands as he waits for you to speak. You look into his eyes, and they're so warm and mesmerizing, you felt safe and secure, like you could tell him anything. Which is exactly what you did.

"What's your name?" You ask.

"Hongjoong." He replies. "You?"

"Y/N."

"Okay Y/N, what's bothering you?"

"My boyfriend, we've been together for just over a year, and well.. he's something, and not the good something like people usually say. He moved in with me, without even asking me if I wanted to, and I just kind of accepted it. He doesn't pay anything, no bills, rent, groceries, nothing. It's all on me, even though he does work full time. He forgot my birthday, went out and got absolutely plastered with his 'boys'. On Valentine's Day, he took me out for dinner, and can you guess who was there?" You ask.

"His boys?" He answered.

"You sir, are correct. I was ignored the entire evening, and then he and his boys left, I ended up paying the bill, and I had to uber home because he had driven us there. Not to mention the fact that he assumes I'm just there for his pleasure, expecting me to be spread eagle for him whenever he decides to show up." You finish, chugging your drink as you try not to gag on the strong taste of vodka.

"Why are you with him then? He doesn't sound like he contributes to the relationship at all, so why do you stay?" He asks.

'Honestly, I'm not entirely sure." You answer as he slides another drink in front of you.

"Now that's a bullshit excuse." He replies. "There's a reason that you clearly don't want to admit."

"Do you ever smile?" You ask him.

"No." He answers. "Now, why won't you leave him?"

"Because it's safe, I guess? I don't know if I can do any better than him." You shrug.

"Y/N, you have no idea how much better you could do." He says.

From the moment Hongjoong had a whiff of the scent that was coming into his bar, he knew that it was the scent of the one. He intensely watched the door, waiting for the one it belonged too to walk through the door. As soon as you did, it was almost as though his heart could have started beating once again, the ice cold blood that ran through his body could have turned warm just by the sight of you. He isn't sure what it is about you, but he had always been told that he would know when he found the one, and having been alive for over a century, he had just assumed that it wasn't in the cards for him, and now he knows why. Because all his life he had been waiting for you. The person that he would do anything for, the person that he would be anything for had finally walked into his life, and for once he felt an ounce of hope, until, you had mentioned the filthy human you were in a relationship with, not to mention one that treated you like absolute garage, and you had assumed that no one better would love you, but shit were you ever wrong. He was standing right in front of you, and though you had just met him, he loved you with everything he had and would do anything and everything to protect you.

"I appreciate your advice, Hongjoong, but it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow." You sigh. "How much do I owe you?" You ask, grabbing your card from your wallet.

"It's on me." He tells you, grabbing your empty glass.

"Well thank you." You smile. "It was nice meeting you." You tell him as you slide off the stool.

"You too." He says, watching you walk away from him.

That night when you got home, you couldn't get Hongjoong off your mind, a smile spread across your face as you walked through your front door, and headed into the living room, then it instantly dropped. Chad had not moved from the spot you had previously left him in a few hours ago. "Oh, babe." He says, sucking the cheeto dust from his fingers. "Kyle brought me some snacks, since you threw a huge temper tantrum about my snacks, you can just venmo or cash app him, k?" He says, going back to playing his game.

You went to bed that night, dreaming of one man, who was not your man.

Over the next few weeks, you had absolutely no desire to be at home. So you headed to the bar that Hongjoong worked at, everyday after work for a drink, or two, or four. In those weeks the two of you spent an ample amount of time getting to know each other, you were sure he knew you better than Chad ever did. You didn't want to see Chad, you didn't want to be near him and it was bad enough that he constantly texted you throughout the day, sending you lists of things to buy from the grocery store, as if he wasn't able to do it himself. But much to your surprise, he didn't text you when you never came home with his snacks, he didn't check in with you throughout the day, and honestly it no longer bothered you.

You felt your feelings for Hongjoong deepen with every encounter the two of you had, every time you saw him it was like nothing you had ever felt with Chad, your emotions were amplified around Hongjoong and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep them hidden.

"One more." You tell Hongjoong, as you set down your fourth glass.

You can tell he wants to smile, but he's too good at controlling his emotions. "You've had enough, I'm cutting you off." He tells you.

You pout, trying to give him your best puppy dog eyes, but absolutely nothing got to the man and it was frustrating as fuck.

"A bad storm is coming, you should probably get home." He tells you, drying off some glasses.

"I don't want to go home, he's there." You scoff, just thinking about Chad made you want to vomit. "I guess I could just get a motel room, at that place across the street." You say, pointing over to the run down motel, that had flickering lights, and probably a rat and cockroach infestation.

"You will do no such thing." Hongjoong replies. "You can stay at my place." He says. "Give me a minute." He walks from around the bar, towards the back of the building, and you can't help but to turn in your stool and watch him walk away, damn he looks good.

Within seconds he's back, grabbing your bag and scooping you up into his arms as he effortlessly carries you out the door.

"I can walk." You object.

"I know." He says, his face stone cold.

"You're very pale." You tell him, as if he didn't know.

"I know." He replies, unlocking the door to his car.

"And you're very cold." You say.

He sighs. "I know." He finishes as he slides you into the passenger seat of his car.

As soon as he started his car, the rain began pouring as thunder and lightning jolted the sky.

"You were right, there's a storm." You say, watching out your window.

"I know." He replies, this time it sounded different. You turned to look at him, hoping you'd catch him smiling but no such luck.

He continues driving, taking you out into the middle of nowhere, out of city limits, this was it, this was probably when you died. You panicked slightly but you felt it in your entire body that he was not going to murder you, at least not that night.

Hongjoong pulls up to a gate, punching in a few numbers to open the gate, which just blocked off a winding road. You squinted as you tried to see where you were going but it was far too dark for you to see anything, until you pulled up to a beautiful mid-century mansion that made your mouth drop. It was absolutely stunning and you couldn't believe that he lived there.

"Seriously? This is where you live?" You say.

"MY family, but yeah." He answers, parking the car near the entrance.

He hops out of his seat, walking towards your side to open the door for you, pulling you inside before you get too wet. He dragged you up a large flight of stairs, not letting you admire the inside of his house. He put you inside a large room, with a large bed and a bathroom ensuite. "There's towels if you want to shower, I'll be back in a bit to check on you." He says, avoiding all eye contact before walking out of the room.

You let out a deep breath as you take off your heels, unbutton your pants and unhook your bra, placing it all next to the bed. You sit down on the bed in your underwear and t-shirt, wondering what to do, until your phone rings.

Looking at the caller ID, you didn't want to answer it, but you felt it would be unfair for you to do so.

"Hello?" You answer.

"Hey babe, it's me.. it's Chad." He says.

"I know who it is." You sigh.

"Look.. I know you've been terrible, oh, wait, I mean I've been terrible in our relationship lately but I want to make almonds." He says. "No idiot, it's amends." You hear from the background.

"Are you kidding me right now? Do you seriously have Brad over to help you?" You yell.

"Well yeah, he noticed that we were drifting apart and offered to help me get you back." Chad explains.

You get up off the bed, pacing on the hardwood floors as you tried to process what he just said to you.

"The fact that you didn't even notice that we were drifting apart is all that I need to hear. You know what, Chad? I'm done. I'm done with this relationship, I'm done with you. Just get out of my apartment, I'm over it." You yell, hanging up the phone.

You stand there, taking deep breaths as you replay the conversation you just had, he didn't even care enough to notice that you'd been pulling away. That kind of hurt, but then again it was Chad. He was never very perceptive.

A knock at the door before it suddenly opens, reveals Hongjoong, walking into the room. He tried to play it cool with the fact that you were practically naked in front of it.

"I heard yelling. You okay?" He asks as lightning strikes, causing the power to flicker.

"Chad called, he had his friend Brad over to feed him lines because Brad noticed we were drifting apart." You explain. "But I did it. I ended things." You proudly admit.

"Good for you." He says, staring at you, while you stare back at him. A crack of thunder hits loudly, making you jump, and within seconds Hongjoong's arms are wrapped around you, like he was protecting you. You look at him and he looks at you, and before you can tell yourself not to, your lips are pressed against him, and he is kissing you back.

The kiss turns passionate and needy in seconds, both of your desires for one another coming out without any control. He moves you both to the bed, laying you down as he hovers over you, his strong arms keeping him above you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling his body closer to yours, feeling him near was all you'd wanted. His ice cold fingers touch your stomach as he begins to lift your shirt up, you can feel his cock slowly becoming harder. You begin lifting his shirt, when his phone rings. He stands up, whispering an apology before answering his phone, barely speaking any words.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I have some things to take care of." He says.

"Oh, yeah, no problem." You say, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Get some sleep." He tells you before walking out of the bedroom door, leaving you alone once again.

You tried to fight the exhaustion you felt, but it was far too hard. You got snuggled underneath the blankets, watching the door, hoping he would come back but your eyelids got too heavy for you to keep open, and you swiftly drifted off to sleep, finally feeling some peace.

The warm sun was shining into the room, waking you up. You let out a little stretch before opening your eyes, only to see five men standing around you. You sit up, moving to the wall, as these men stare at you. You looked at them all, and they all looked similar to Hongjoong. Pale skin, dark eyes, dark head, blood red lips.

"Who are you?" One of them asks.

"Y/N." You whisper.

Another one speaks up, looking at the other four men. "Who the fuck brought a human home?"

#kpopscape #noonasinnetwork #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #vampire hongjoong #ateez #vampire ateez #ateez imagines #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop writing #kpop icons #kpop imagines #kpop smut

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soramei · 3 years ago

Text

From Resentment (hhj)

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader (she/her)

Summary: After a fated meeting involving a cute and fluffy puppy, you found yourself drawn to Hwang Hyunjin: the school prince. Everybody in high school loved him. It was hard not to. Not only was he rich, smart, and athletic, but he was also incredibly kind-hearted.

However, one day seemingly out of the blue, everything that you thought Hyunjin was came crashing down.

Now a freshman in university, you were excited to live out your dreams. That was, until Hyunjin came hurtling back into your life like an uncontrolled meteor. His presence threw a curveball on all your plans, and would eventually change your perspective on everything that you thought you knew.

Genre: studentl!hyunjin au, angst, enemies to lovers

Warnings: cursing, tw puking

Word Count: 8.8k

Masterlist

A/N: Not an Intentional update but a hyunjin oneshot!! disclaimer: no aspect of hyunjins personality here was drawn from real life — irl hyunjin is a ray of sunshine <3

You looked at your math homework, proud that you got all the answers correct. Since it was a slow afternoon at your job today, you had extra time to focus on your homework. The boss at the convenience store you worked at allowed you to have your homework out, as long as it was hidden behind the cash register.

As you stared at the rest of your homework, you started to feel the weight of tenth grade pile up on you. Because it was your first year of high school, you were still trying to adjust to everything; your grades, your teachers, and all the new students walking around the halls.

You stuffed the rest of your homework in your backpack. It was the end of your shift, and you wanted to go home as soon as possible to start with the rest of your studying. Crap. No matter how hard you tried to zip up your backpack, it wouldn’t close. After trying one more time, the zipper tore from your backpack.

You cursed under your breath. You couldn’t afford to buy a new backpack right now.

You had just been able to afford your new school uniform by taking up extra shifts at the convenience store, and you still needed money for your grandmother’s prescriptions. You sighed, annoyed to have another monetary stressor weighing on your shoulders.

Walking outside with your now torn backpack, your eyes widened at the group of boys in front of you. You immediately recognized them from behind.

The school princes. These three seniors were all known for three things: being extremely smart, handsome, and talented.

On the left was Seungmin, and from what you’ve heard, he was the smart and quiet one. He was always helping the teachers, being the class president and all. Any time a girl or a boy needed academic help, Seungmin was there and happy to assist.

The person on the right was Jisung. With his charming and charismatic personality, he had dated tens upon tens of girls in his grade. Just in the last year. It helped that he was really good looking — and also stinkin’ rich. His father was a notorious restaurateur, and with him being the first son, he was basically given unlimited spending rights.

The only person richer than Jisung was the boy in the center of them both: Hwang Hyunjin. This boy was the school prince. The prince of princes. He somehow managed to participate in music clubs, engage in study groups, and captain the soccer team all the while keeping up excellent grades. Every girl that Jisung had dated was said to have been rejected by Hyunjin first. That was his only flaw: he was notoriously cold to any and all romantic confessions.

You followed behind the three princes, staring at your torn up sneakers. You knew you didn’t exist in their world, but even being near three handsome and rich teenage boys made you nervous.

Suddenly, you heard a whimper coming from behind a bush to the left of you. It sounded like a hurt animal.

Worried and curious, you walked over to the bush to see what it was.

It was a puppy. Small and fluffy, it looked up at you with it’s beady black eyes and cried out. His paw was bleeding.

You panicked. Having never seen a hurt puppy before, you had no idea what to do. You called out for help.

“Help!” you cried, hoping that somebody had heard your call for help. You desperately wanted to help this hurt puppy, but you hesitated to touch it, afraid that you would hurt the animal even more.

The puppy howled in pain, making your panic rise. You were about to call out for help again, when you heard somebody running up behind you.

“What is it?” The voice asked.

“I-I don’t know. I just saw this dog here, and-and his paw is bleeding,” you anxiously stuttered.

“Here, let me take a look.”

You heard the voice behind you, so you shuffled over to make room.

It was Hwang Hyunjin. The person that responded to your cry for help was the most popular and well-liked person in the school. You were shocked, a bit intimidated actually, so you silently moved to the side for him. His black hair shone in the sunlight as he bent down to examine the dog.

“Come here, boy,” he chirped. The puppy listened, and started limping to him. “Something hurt you, didn’t it.”

He stood up, picking the puppy up along with him.

“C’mon,” he gestured with his head, “my vet isn’t too far from here actually. We can make it by walking.”

You silently nodded and followed him.

He was right. The walk to the veterinarian clinic, though very awkward, wasn’t too far. The clinic was empty at this time of day, with the receptionist being the only person in the room.

“Hyunjin! Always a pleasure,” the receptionist beamed. It seemed like Hyunjin’s likeability wasn’t only confined to your school. “My, what do we have here?”

“There’s something wrong with his paw,” Hyunjin tried to show the receptionist where the blood was coming from, “is the doctor free right now?”

“As a matter of fact, he is,” the receptionist said whilst checking the schedule. “I’ll take this little boy to the back where he can get prepped for the veterinarian.”

Hyunjin handed the puppy carefully to the receptionist. The receptionist took out a crate for the dog, put him in, and then disappeared through the back door. The two of you were now left alone in the waiting room.

“Uhm,” you coughed, “thank you. I know you probably want to get back to your friends, so you can leave now.”

“No, I’ll stay,” he looked at you and smiled, “those idiots are just playing LOL at the PC room anyways. Plus, I want to see how this little boy turns out.”

You smiled back at him, nodding your head. A few moments of awkward silence passed.

“I’m Hyunjin by the way,” he said.

“I know. I’m Y/n.”

“You’re in your first year, right?” he said, looking at the colour of your uniform.

“Yeah, it’s so hard to get used to though. I’m trying my best with my homework, but I think this school stuff just doesn’t click with me,” you rambled.

“Oh?”

“I want to go into dance. I’ve never been able to afford professional lessons, but I’ve always wanted to go to university for dance. My grandparents said they would let me if my school grades were high.” You didn’t know why you were giving your life story to Hyunjin. He just had this natural charisma that made you want to spill everything to him. It was the way he looked at you with those cat-like eyes.

“I know what you mean. It took me forever to convince my parents for me to major in dance. I got in by early admittance, but I’m sure they still have their reservations about my major.”

“You’re majoring in dance?” you asked, eyes wide.

He smiled. “I’ve loved dancing ever since I could remember. It’s my passion, and truthfully, the only thing I’ve got going for me.”

You were shocked. At school, Hyunjin was known for so many things other than dancing. Hell, you didn’t even know he enjoyed dancing and you thought you’d heard everything about him already.

The two of you chatted for a while longer before the vet came out with the now happy looking dog.

“It seemed like this little guy got into a fight with something, and he got a pretty large gash on his paw. Luckily, it wasn’t bleeding too much so I just gave him some anaesthetic and stitched it right up.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god he isn’t too hurt.”

“Yes, it’s good that it wasn’t too bad,” the veterinarian agreed. “I’m assuming this is your dog? As soon as you finish with the bill, I can release this little guy and the both of you are ready to go.”

Oh yeah. The bill.

Although you knew you couldn’t afford to pay the vet bill, you didn’t know where this little dog would go if you couldn’t take him home. You did the mental calculations, and if you worked some extra shifts, you could probably be able to pick up the bill today. Buying a new backpack could be saved for another day.

“Sure, where can I pay?” you asked.

“Just over by the receptionist.” The veterinarian pointed.

You walked over to the receptionist, and she handed the bill over to you.

You almost fainted.

Just the anaesthetic and the stitches alone cost over two hundred dollars. This was extremely over your budget, and probably even more than the amount in your savings. You felt uneasy.

“Uhm, actually, I don’t think I can-”

“Do you take cash?”

Hyunjin had interrupted you, walked up to the receptionist, and pulled out his wallet. He peaked over your shoulder and took out a huge wad of cash to hand to the receptionist.

“Hyunjin, you don’t have to,” you begged. You felt bad that this guy you didn’t even know had just offered to cover you for over two hundred dollars.

“Think of it as a good luck gift from a fellow dancer.” He smiled.

That was when it clicked. You didn’t know what clicked, but it just did. It was his smile. It was the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up and how the corners of his lips pinched at the end. You now understood why all the girls at school were in love with him. He was quite literally perfect.

You thanked him profusely, even after the two of you had left the clinic. With the dog in your hand, you walked side by side with Hyunjin.

“So,” he started, “have you thought of a name for this guy yet?”

Oh yeah — he was your dog now. “Hmm, I don’t know yet.”

“What about Coco?”

“Coco?”

“Yeah, let’s see if he likes it.” Hyunjin leaned in and cooed at the little puppy. “Hi, little Coco!”

The puppy’s eyes lit up, and with his tongue stretched out, he started panting.

“I guess he likes it,” Hyunjin smiled. God, his smile could melt all of Antarctica.

“Coco it is.” You poked at Coco’s nose.

Hyunjin was about to say something back to you when his phone buzzed. He took a peak, rolled his eyes, then smiled. “My friends are god awful at games. I swear, they can’t even win one round without me. You’re okay with going home alone?”

He was going to walk you home? Could he be any more perfect?

You nodded your head. “Thank you, Hyunjin. I’ll pay you back for the bill one day.”

“No need,” he winked. “Like I said, it’s a good luck gift. Oh, and you can ask me if you need help with any school work. Anything to help a fellow dancer.”

He waved goodbye, then went running off in the other direction. You held Coco close to you, heart pounding. Although you didn’t want to be like all the other girls who fell for him, you felt like you were already falling for Hyunjin.

The next day, you had planned to go shopping for dog supplies after school. After a really long and arduous debate with yourself, you decided to sacrifice all of your savings in order to buy everything that Coco needed. You knew Hyunjin owned a dog himself, so throughout the whole day, you worked up the nerve to ask Hyunjin to come with you.

At the end of last period, you gathered all your stuff from your desk and headed to the soccer field where you knew Hyunjin and his friends would be. Whilst you crossed the field, you noticed Jisung staring at you. You found his stare intimidating, but you tried to brush it off. He then whispered something in Hyunjin’s ear.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” you said anxiously, biting your lip. “Umm, do you want to come with me to shop for Coco?”

He stared at you for a couple seconds, then, a look of disgust appeared on his face. “Why? So you can use my wallet again?”

You stared back at him, wide eyed. Who was this person? It wasn’t the Hyunjin that so graciously helped you out yesterday.

“W-what? No!” you exclaimed. “I-I just wanted your opinion…”

“Sure,” Hyunjin smirked coldly, “opinion my ass.”

“Hyunjin,” tears were pooling in your eyes, “I don’t understand.”

“If you need money so much, here.” He reached in his pocket and turned up a wad of cash, throwing it at your feet. “Just don’t come to me next time. And buy yourself a new pair of shoes while you’re at it.”

You looked down at the money, trying to hold back your tears. Why was Hyunjin being like this? You didn’t understand. His two jockeys beside him didn’t even bother to stop him. As you tried to stop yourself from crying, you felt your sadness turn into rage.

“I don’t need your stupid money,” you said, kicking the cash back to him. “Maybe you can use your daddy’s money to buy yourself a new personality.”

Hyunjin’s two friends tried to hold back their snickers at your words. Hyunjin heard, turned around, and gave them both death stares.

You didn’t bother to listen to whatever he was going to say next and simply stomped away, rage burning inside you. Everything about him was a lie. His charming and charismatic personality, his generosity, his kindness. They were all lies. He really was nothing but a rich, spoiled boy living with his father’s money.

There was rage behind every step you took. Wiping away your tears, you headed to your locker. You didn’t need him anyways; it was better to realize his true personality earlier rather than later. Hands shaking from anger, you dialed the combination to your locker.

“Hey, sorry about what happened earlier.” A voice came from behind you. “He can be a real jerk sometimes.”

It was Jisung. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t want to see him either.

“Why didn’t you do anything about it then?” Your voice came out shaky. It was obvious that you had cried.

“Once he starts, there’s no stopping him. It’s usually better to let him finish uninterrupted, or else he will get more mad.”

“Oh,” you said. Your hatred for Hyunjin grew even more.

“I could come with you, though. I don’t know much about dogs, but I can help you carry your bags.”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon, no way you can carry everything by yourself.”

You hesitated. “Okay, I guess.”

And so, you left for the pet store with Jisung, still confused about everything that had happened. It was strange with him. He was nice and cracked a joke every now and then, but it was just different from being with Hyunjin. At least he was nice, you thought.

Your trip went well. You managed to buy everything you needed for Coco. In a turn of events, Jisung had actually come in handy as he offered to carry the huge bag of dog food you bought. He even offered to buy you a coffee.

“Thanks for all your help, Jisung.” You stood outside the door of your apartment, smiling at him.

“No problem, gives me an excuse to work out my guns.” He pretended to flex his arms.

You choked back a laugh.

“You should get going now. It’s late,” you said.

“Alright,” he started to leave. “Hey, if you see me in the halls, feel free to say hi.”

You nodded and waved to him as he turned and walked away, remembering his words. Every time you saw Jisung in the school hallways, you gave him a small wave in which he happily returned. However, whenever you saw him walking with Hyunjin, you made sure to purposely avoid them. You didn’t want any negativity in your life.

You kept up the waves, and soon, waves turned to small conversations which soon turned to flirting. By the end of the semester, you and Jisung somehow ended up as a couple. Jisung was polite and sweet, unlike a certain person. With every free moment you had, you hung out with Jisung — all the while avoiding Hyunjin.

The two of you stayed a couple for the rest of Jisung’s senior year. Somehow, the two of you had even kept up your relationship throughout your whole high school experience. It was hard at times as he went to university, but with a lot of effort, you had made your relationship work out. You barely had time to talk with him, but you enjoyed the little time that you did have. Jisung had never even once mentioned Hyunjin when you were together, and with time, you had totally forgotten about that jerk. You weren’t even sure if they were still friends.

You worked hard in school and reaped all the benefits. Your rank had consistently been in the top twenties amongst all the other students, and you even had time to practice your dancing. You remembered the day that you received your acceptance letter from university. Hands shaking, you had barely managed to open the letter all the way before you screamed. You had gotten into university with your dream major: dance.

Because of your excellent grades, you were able to pay a lot of your tuition with scholarship money alone. You hesitantly decided to quit your job at the convenience store to focus on university. Although quitting meant that your bank account would take a big hit, you decided that it would be best in the long run. There was a lot in your savings, and you even had a little extra to buy a new outfit for your first day of school.

Jisung had been busy on the first day of university. He had previously promised to show you around campus, but with him being a no-show, you wandered around by yourself to try to find your classes. You had trouble with the campus map at first, but after walking around for a bit, you were able to find all your classes with ease.

Your first few classes were a snore. Because they were all theory, you had to down two cups of coffee in order to stay awake. Somehow, you managed to take coherent notes despite being bored out of your mind. You just wanted to dance.

The good thing was, after sitting through many classes, your time to dance finally came. Your last class of the day was an introduction to dance course, and you couldn’t wait to go. You wanted to know your teacher, your peers, and most importantly, express yourself.

The dance class was in a studio in the university’s fitness center. It was huge, way bigger than the tiny gym in your high school. Upon entering the studio, you were immediately met with the sight of students, exactly like you, already stretching. You chose a spot in the room and started stretching as well, making good use of your time before the instructor comes in.

After some time, most of the students — including you — had finished stretching and were sitting in silence waiting for the instructor. The door swung open, breaking the silence. The instructor had come in.

“Hello new students,” he said, “welcome to Dance 100. Today, I will go through the curriculum with you as well as introduce your final project.”

The instructor whipped out a projection of the curriculum and started explaining the purpose of the course, what you would be graded on, and how you would be graded. He then read through his class expectations before moving to your final project.

“This final project will act in place of a final exam,” he explained. “You will be required to create a dance that includes everything we’ve learned in class and write an essay explaining all the elements in your dance. It will be worth half your grade.”

The class gasped in surprise. Not only did this project sound extremely difficult for a first year course, but the fact that it was worth half your grade made it borderline unfair.

“I know it might seem difficult, but worry not, you won’t be doing this alone. Every year, the first year dance students get mentored by the third year dance students for the final project. Each student has already been assigned a random mentor which will be introduced this class.”

The whole class murmured, talking amongst themselves and expressing their opinions on this project. It was definitely an interesting project. You hoped that you would be paired with a good mentor that would actually care about how well you did.

There was a knock on the door.

“Ah, this must be them.” Your instructor opened the door and a wave of third years came flooding in. Each one of them had a name tag pinned on their shirts. “Class, these are the third year students.”

You all politely greeted them.

“Now,” the instructor continued, “I will put the class list on the projector, and each of your names will correspond to a third year mentor.”

The instructor put out the list for display. You scanned down the list of names, eventually finding yours. Following the dots to your corresponding mentor, you almost choked on air when you saw yours.

It was Hwang Hyunjin.

You were at a loss for words. Just when you thought he was out of your life forever, the man that was so incredibly mean to you — the man you hated with your whole soul — was now your mentor. Just the thought of being in the same room as him filled you with disgust.

You scanned the sea of third year students, and your eyes immediately found him. He was staring back at you with the same shocked expression that you had on.

He looked different. Not only had he grown taller, but he had lost all his baby fat as well. His hair was different too. It was bleached blond and it almost hit his shoulders. What was the same, however, was his intense stare and his plump lips.

You walked over to him.

“You look different.” His eyes scanned up and down.

“So do you.” You clenched your jaw and sighed. “I guess we have to work together.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said flatly.

“Listen,” you copied his tone, “I’m not excited about this either, but I want to get a good grade for this class. If you don’t wanna help me, just say so and I’ll just work alone on this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he rolled his eyes, “this is part of my grade too. I can’t let you fuck this up for the both of us.”

You rolled your eyes back at him and pressed your lips in a thin line. Ignoring what he said, you asked, “where do we start?”

“Let’s find a time to meet every week.” He pulled out the newest iPad model from his bag. Of course he would have the newest iPad. “I’m busy every day except Saturday, so let’s meet then.”

Way to consider your opinion. He was lucky that you weren’t busy on the weekends.

As Hyunjin worked on sorting his schedule, you took your time to look at how he had changed. With his hair blonde, he looked like a completely different person. You didn’t understand why he kept his hair long though. It kept falling in his eyes.

“Stop staring at me. It’s freaking me out.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“I wasn’t.” You crossed your arms, defending yourself.

“Whatever.” He tucked his hair behind his ear and put his iPad back in his bag. “Don’t be late on Saturday.”

And with that, he left. You looked around the class. Most of the other students were still with their mentors, presumably getting to know each other and discussing the project. You almost wanted to ask your instructor to switch with somebody else, but that would mean passing on the nightmare known as Hwang Hyunjin onto a perfectly innocent person. You had your moments, but you weren’t evil.

The interaction with Hyunjin had left you in a sour mood for the rest of the day. You tried to study, but you were too distracted by the thought of having to work with that monstrosity for a whole semester. It was worth so much of your grade, too. You had just hoped that Hyunjin was as good at dance as he previously told you. You remembered him saying how dance was his passion in life. That was when you still liked him. Who knows, maybe he only said that so he could play you like every other girl he played with.

For the rest of the week, whenever you thought of the dance project, you were filled with dread. You tried to ignore it, and sometimes it worked, but most of the time it kept reappearing in your mind like a virus. The way Hyunjin had infected your mind bothered you to no end.

Time passed fast though, and before you knew it, Saturday had already come. Searching through your closet, you picked out a simple outfit for practice today. You slid on your tattered old sneakers and headed off to the studio that Hyunjin had told you to go to.

Entering the dance studio, you noticed that you were right on time. However, Hyunjin was not. Great… He made such a big deal over you being on time that he himself forgot to be punctual. You sat on the wood floors and started to do some stretches to warm up.

Eventually, after you finished your stretching, he entered the studio. With a girl. Holding a textbook, Hyunjin handed it to the girl and put on his signature deceitful smile. His ugly, perfect smile. The girl batted her eyes and waved her fingers goodbye before strolling out the door. You rolled your eyes at this, feeling bad for the girl. Hyunjin was playing her right in front of her own eyes and she didn’t even realize it.

“Were you really late because of a girl?” you sneered.

“Why do you care?” he retorted, flinging his bag to the corner of the room.

“I don’t.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Not wanting to waste time with that childish banter, you decided to end the conversation then and there. “Okay, well anyways, I’ll show you what I learned in class this week.”

Hooking up your phone to the speaker, you chose the song that you’ve been practicing with for the whole week. As the song progressed, you found it hard to not get lost in the music. Just dancing was the easy part; incorporating everything learned in class was another story. Although it was fairly difficult, you thought you executed everything very well as the song came to an end. Finishing up, you panted from exhaustion and looked at Hyunjin for his comments.

He stood, with his arms crossed across his torso, leaning against the speaker. There was a blank expression on his face.

“Not bad.” He started to walk up to you.

“But?”

“But you’re too stiff. You’re too focused on perfectly executing the technical moves that you forget to just move your body. Do what you did half-way through the song again.”

You turned the music on, trying to do the dance with Hyunjin’s criticisms in mind. Looking in the mirror, you did your best to show as much emotion as possible, all the while moving more fluidly. The room was filled with heavy bass and the squeaks from your sneakers.

Suddenly, the music was abruptly cut off.

Hyunjin had stopped the music and was making his way over, face still unreadable.

“You’re still trying too hard and it shows.” Hyunjin shook his head.

Clenching your jaw, you did your best to hold back your anger. Were you just not supposed to try? This annoyed you. Just because he didn’t need to try to be good at anything didn’t mean you couldn’t.

“Well,” you tried to say calmly, “how can I do this then?”

“You have to relax.” He put one hand on your hip and started to guide you. “Don’t focus on each individual aspect, but try to imagine everything as a whole. Then, things will come naturally.”

You followed his hand, allowing Hyunjin to guide you to his own rhythm. After a while, every movement felt so fluid and you didn’t even notice that your face started to match your movements. Glancing at your reflection, you gasped, noticing how different your dancing looked. You whipped your head to face Hyunjin, the two of your inches apart and breathing heavily.

“See,” he mumbled, looking down at you. “Once you stop thinking, everything just comes naturally.”

You looked back at the person inches away from you. It almost felt as if he was being kind. But you knew the type of person he was. You weren’t going to let this happen again. Snapping out of what weird trance you were in, you pushed him away in an act of self perseverance.

He didn’t say anything.

“I’ll try again,” you said.

Hyunjin strolled over to the speaker and turned on the music. This time, you didn’t think about anything you learned in class or Hyunjin’s criticisms. You just trusted in your body. Everything else was blank.

Taking a step forward while still in your trance, your shoe lost its grip on the floor, causing you to fall right on your knee. You cried in pain, holding on to your knee.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin hissed. He ran over and bent down to your level. “Can you move it?”

“I think so.” You tried to straighten your knee. It hurt, but you were still able to do it. There would most likely be a nasty bruise there the next morning.

“You’re still wearing those scraps that you call shoes? They’re literally coming apart at the seams. This is going to happen again if you don’t get new ones.”

You blushed in embarrassment from his remarks. “I’m not going to spend money on things that I don’t need.”

“Well, you need shoes. Just go buy a new pair later.”

Was he being serious? Or was he just spoiled?

“Hyunjin, not everybody can just go spend money whenever they want,” you loudly sighed. “Unlike you, I need to consider my budget for most things.”

“Well, why can’t you ask your boyfriend to buy it?” he sneered. “Seems like you’re good at doing that.”

How did he know you were still dating Jisung? What did he mean by ‘good at doing that’?

“What?” You crossed your eyebrows. “Do you think I’m with him just for his money? Do I really look like that kind of person to you?”

“You used me for my money,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What?” You couldn’t hear him right.

“Nevermind, rehearsal's over.” He stomped off, leaving you alone in the practice room holding on to your injured knee.

You busied yourself with everything and anything you could do over the weekend in order to forget what happened during rehearsal. However, no matter how hard you tried to forget, Hyunjin’s comments on your shoes stuck in your mind like glue.

During your shift at your job, you couldn’t help but keep staring at your worn sneakers. You never paid attention to your shoes before until now. They did the job, so why would you need to buy a new pair? Still, you unconsciously paid attention to every step you took.

On Monday’s dance class, you decided to go early. It was always nice to warm up in a room with other try-hards. They felt less judgemental than the others.

The studio barely had anybody in it this early before class. Everybody was either stretching or had already started going over what was taught last week. Shuffling your way over to your locker, you couldn’t help but compare everybody else’s shoes to your own. You’ve never cared about trivial matters such as shoes, but you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious as your worn-in sneakers squeaked its way over to the lockers.

Opening your locker, your eyes widened, shocked at what you saw. Inside was a box containing a brand new pair of sneakers. It was an expensive brand as well, a brand that you never thought you would be touching in your life. You turned your head around, scanning the room. Everybody seemed to have been busy with their own thing.

Did somebody put these in your locker by mistake?

Taking the shoes out, you noticed a small slip of paper fly out. You picked up the note.

Keep these. I was a jerk.

You knew who had sent this. It was Hyunjin. You didn’t know what game he was trying to play at, but you weren’t going to fall for it like you did that day in high school. Gingerly putting the shoes back in your locker, you decided to return these back to Hyunjin at your next practice.

“No, I gave them to you as a gift.” Hyunjin turned his nose up at you, refusing to take back the shoes.

“Why would you give these to me if you think that I only use people for their money?”

“Because,” he rolled his eyes, “if you’re unable to dance then my grade is screwed as well.”

He made a good point, but you were stubborn. “Still…”

“You know what? Keep it, give it away, sell it, I don’t care. Let’s just start practice.”

After that dance practice, you threw your old shoes in the trash.

It was midterm season a month into school. You thought you had gone to hell and back with high school, but this was even worse. Each day consisted of waking up, studying, and going back to sleep. You lived on coffee and toast. It wasn’t much, but it gave you the energy to sit at the library for hours to study.

You didn’t see anybody during the midterm season, Instead, you chose to hermit yourself up at the library for days on end. This meant that, at least for a couple of weeks, your dance practice with Hyunjin was put on hiatus. Not that he minded, of course. He happily deleted the practices from his schedule.

You also didn’t see much of your boyfriend, Jisung. Ever since school started, he seemed to always be missing in action. He would almost never have time to be with you, and with the few moments that he was, it seemed like he was always so apathetic towards you. You brushed this off as stress though, as you finally knew what it was like to experience university exams.

It was a clear and sunny day on the morning you finished your last midterm. Leaving the exam room, you looked up to the sky, basking in the sun. Today was going to be a good day. Not only were you now stress free, but you were also invited to an end-of-midterm party for your dance class tonight. You had never gone to a university party before, so when a classmate asked if you wanted to go, you eagerly accepted.

Wrapping up your dance class, you stood at your locker, gathering the rest of your stuff.

“Hey.” An arm wrapped around you.

“Hey, Jisung.” You smiled, turning around to face him.

“You’re done all your midterms?”

“Yup.” You nodded happily.

He took a look at your shoes.

“New shoes?”

You hesitated in answering his question, not knowing where Jisung was with Hyunjin in terms of friendship. It was better to be truthful now rather than apologizing later.

“Hyunjin gave it to me.” You looked down, fiddling with your fingers. Why were you afraid of Jisung’s response?

“Wait, what? Hwang Hyunjin? Like from high school? Y/n, I thought you hated him.”

“I did! And I do,” you tried to explain, “but he had a reason to give me this.”

“Bullshit, Y/n. You’re really gonna believe any reason he pulls out of his ass? I thought you actually matured from high school.”

“Well, you would understand if you were around more often!” you yelled. You knew it was wrong to address other problems and blow this out of proportion, but you couldn’t think straight. Your mind was clouded with anger.

“What does this have to do with anything?” Jisung barked back. “What we’re talking about is how you, no matter how shitty of a person Hyunjin is, keep going back to him! Y/n, all that man does is take. He takes from you and he sure as hell takes everything from me. I won’t let that happen this time.”

When had he taken anything from you? All he had done was give.

“Jisung, let’s end this.”

“You’re right. Let’s cool down and talk later tonight.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I mean, let's end us.”

Jisung looked at you in disgust. “It’s Hyunjin, isn’t it?”

“No,” you vehemently denied, “Jisung, you never have time for me, and the little time we do have together you act like a different person. And now you’re being all possessive just because Hyunjin gave me a gift? I’m sorry, I just don’t see us recovering from this.”

“Fine, whatever.” Jisung turned around. “We’re done. But Y/n, don’t come running back to me when Hyunjin screws you over like he does with everybody.”

After Jisung left, you stomped your foot on the ground, tears pooling in your eyes. It was for the best — breaking up with him. For the past month, you hadn’t been happy with where your relationship was going, but this wasn’t the way you wanted to end an almost three year relationship.

Wiping away your tears, you tried to compose yourself before heading over to the pub. Jisung wasn’t worth the tears.

The walk to the pub wasn’t far as every establishment catered to students was a short walking distance from campus. For your entire walk over, you kept your head down so as to not receive looks from others. The headache from your cries and a blush of anger still lingered with you. Hopefully you’ll look somewhat normal by the time you reach the bar.

Checking your reflection once more in your phone camera, you fixed your hair a bit before going inside.

The bar was filled.

With students from both your dance class and the third year class, there was not an empty corner in sight. The music was loud, but the sounds of chatter coming from the students were louder. The place was dark, with the only source of light coming from very dim, bright blue LEDs.

It was surprising to see everybody in a different setting. You were used to the sight of your classmates being only in sweats and workout clothes, but now that they actually had time to get ready, everybody seemed like a completely different person.

You saw a few of your classmates wave at you, beckoning you over to where they were sitting. As soon as your butt landed on the chair, they spared no time to push a shot glass filled with clear liquor in front of you. You gladly took the drink, wanting to just let go and forget about everything that happened today. Holding back a cough, you scrunched your face as you felt the alcohol burn in your throat. It had been so long since the last time you drank.

After five you stopped counting. Partly because you knew you were going to drink more, but mostly because your head couldn’t even count to five anymore. Scrunching your eyes, you tried to focus on the blurry figure of your classmate complaining about her professor. Bored out of your mind as her mindless babble went on forever, your eyes started roaming around the bar. As your eyes wandered, you noticed somebody behind your classmate staring at you.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Even in your inebriated state of mind, you knew that it was Hyunjin. What other university student had the balls to bleach their whole head blonde? Your eyes met, and he ran a hand through his golden locks. Why do the most beautiful people harbour the most wretched personalities?

You tried to ignore his staring by focusing your attention back on your classmate, but eventually, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. He was still looking at you.

You saw a girl come up to him. She was the same girl that showed up with him on your first ever practice session. Because of the dimly lit bar and your drunken vision impairment, you had to really squint to make out what was going on. The girl, all smiley and giggly, put her hand on his shoulder, making Hyunjin break his eye contact with you. He smiled at the girl, mouthing words that were drowned out by the music. For some reason, this made you furious. Why was he so nice to everybody else but you? What had you ever done to him to make him hate you so much?

You kept your eyes on the girl, knowing full well that you shouldn’t have. You hated that — even on your night off, even when you had just broken up with your boyfriend — Hyunjin was still in your mind like an unkillable parasite. You hated the way he tucked his hair behind his ears. You hated how the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled at her. You hated him.

You watched as she leaned in and whispered something in his ear, causing him to laugh. That was the last straw. In a drunken haze, you took your phone and bolted out the door, ignoring the concerns of all your classmates. Maybe it had been a mistake breaking up with Jisung. Maybe he really did know what was best for you.

Stumbling out onto the street, you tried to dial Jisung’s phone number. It proved to be too difficult of a task, however, as your drunken fingers could only tap on random numbers on the screen. You cried out of frustration.

“Y/n.”

The voice coming from behind you startled you, causing you to lose your grip on the phone. It dropped on the cement with a loud crack. Tears welled up in your eyes as you bent down to pick up your phone. There was a huge crack right down the middle of the screen.

“You cracked my phone,” you said, trying to keep your composure.

“So? It’s not like it’s worth much anyways. Just ask your boyfriend to buy you one.” Hyunjin’s evil eyes squinted down at you.

“Why are you still on about this? Hyunjin, I’ve never used anybody for money and I never will!” You couldn’t control the tears flowing down your face. “Plus, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I broke up with Jisung today.”

You didn’t know why you were spilling your guts to the last man in the world you would trust. Surely, it was the alcohol.

“Y/n.” His tone had completely changed. He almost looked — concerned?

“Whatever, Hyunjin,” you slurred. “Just leave me alone. You can go back to that girl and have your fun with her.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t care.”

“Y/n, why do you care?” His tone got louder.

“I don’t!” you yelled at him. Your tears made everything even more blurry.

“Y/n! Tell me, why do you care?!” He spat back at you with just as much fury.

“Fuck you, Hyunjin. News flash, not everything in the world revolves around you and your rich and prestigious life. Maybe you wouldn’t be so toxic if you would just understand that.” You screamed at him through your sobs. “Also, I don’t know where you got this stupid story of my being a cash whore from, but I will say this one last time: I have worked for everything in my life and I have never and will never use anybody for their money.”

Hyunjin looked back at you, shocked. You stared back at him in disgust. Not wanting to waste anymore time on him, you stumbled down the street to look for a taxi. However, as you wobbled down the pavement, everything became even blurrier than before. You felt nauseous. You couldn’t control it anymore.

You threw up. All over the sidewalk. You couldn’t stop. Every time you thought that it was over, more and more came out. Your throat burned, and it wasn’t just the alcohol.

As you hurled out all the remains of today’s lunch, your hair was held back.

“Get away from me, Hyunjin,” you groaned. You didn’t want him to see you this weak.

“Who else is gonna take care of your drunk ass, idiot,” he mumbled.

That was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

It was a blinding white light that woke you up. You groaned, trying to block the light with your forearm. Cracking your neck, you tried to holster yourself up.

You were on a leather couch. Squinting, you surveyed the room you were in. It was clean, spacious. The floor was a white marble — there wasn’t a single speck of dust to be seen. Across from you was an incredibly wide TV with many game consoles scattered around it. You looked behind you. There was a large kitchen island illuminated by warm pendant lights. Sitting at the island, on his laptop, was Hyunjin.

“Wh-what happened to me?”

“You’re the worst fucking drinker I’ve ever seen, that’s what happened.”

You rolled your eyes.

Hyunjin ignored you, standing up and leaving for another room. Less than a minute later, he reappeared with a toothbrush and a roll of toothpaste.

“Go clean up. You look disgusting.”

You snatched the toothbrush from his hands. He pointed over to the bathroom and you trudged your way over. His bathroom was huge, almost bigger than your bedroom at home. You felt as if you were in a hotel.

“Your bathroom is huge.” After washing up, you felt not only cleaner, but more awake. “You’re really living the life with your family’s money, huh.”

Hyunjin sighed, slamming his laptop shut causing you to flinch. “Why, after everything, do you think I’m this rich, pretentious fuck?”

You rolled your eyes. Not this again. “Well, why do you still think I’m this money hungry monster?”

“You really wanna know why, Y/n? It’s because Jisung told me so. He was the one who told me that all those years ago.”

You were shocked. Jisung was the one who told him that? Your ex-boyfriend that you had loved and dated for almost three years? You didn’t want to believe it, you really didn’t, but there was this tiny whisper in the back of your mind telling you that it was true. He had a reason to — Jisung was always going on about how Hyunjin always took from him.

“But Y/n, I-” He stopped mid-sentence.

“You what, Hyunjin?”

He pressed his lips to yours, caressing the back of your head. You were shocked, but almost autonomously, your lips parted feeling the heat of his breath against yours. He pressed his body to yours, running his hand down your waist. His lips, the same lips responsible for his perfect smile, felt so soft against your own. You heard the thuds of his heartbeat as he held you closer.

You broke apart, gasping for breath. The realization of what you had done just hit you.

In a panic, you used your whole strength to push his body away from you. “I-I have to go.”

“Y/n, wait!” Hyunjin called.

You paid him no attention. Instead, you ran across the marble floors, hoisted the front door open, and sprinted out. Hoping that Hyunjin wasn’t following you, found your way outside and took a taxi home.

You sat in silence, trying to process what had just happened. You had just kissed Hyunjin. You had just kissed Hyunjin. Hands shaking, you grasped at the ends of your hair, trying to calm yourself down. Did that just happen?

You were more mad at yourself than at him. How could you have just kissed Hyunjin? You hated him. He was nothing but rude to you, never smiling and always accusing you of things that were clearly lies. He made you feel self conscious, nervous, and everything in between. You hated him.

But he was so sweet on that fateful day in high school. He gave you a new pair of shoes when you had slipped during practice, and he held your hair for you when you were drunk. His hair glistened in the sunlight, his smile made your heart race, and his lips ignited sparks of every colour in the rainbow in your chest.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. You hated how fast you became infatuated with him on that day in high school, and no matter how much you tried to deny it, you hated that your feelings haven’t changed ever since. You hated Hwang Hyunjin. You hated that you loved him.

Curling up in your bed, there was no stopping the tears flowing down your face. You cried and cried upon this realization, and you remained this way for the rest of the day. The effect Hyunjin had on you was bigger than you ever expected, and you hated it.

At school, you tried to avoid as many people as possible. The kiss you had shared with Hyunjin was plaguing your mind, distracting you and igniting the fire that was your inner turmoil. Even the thought of Hyunjin put a strain in your heart. It was the way his breath fanned over your nose, gently tickling it like a bird’s feather and the soft silk of his blonde locks brushing up against your cheeks.

You shook your head, trying to erase any and every thought of that man. Walking to your locker, you were stopped in your tracks, the dam in your eyes starting to crack. You couldn’t do this today. You turned around to go somewhere else — anywhere else.

“Y/n, wait.”

You sniffed, wiped stray tears from your eyes, and picked up your pace.

“Y/n.” He grabbed your shoulder, turning you around to face him.

“Hyunjin, please, I can’t do this today.”

“Are you… Are you crying?” He touched your face, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Y/n, why are you crying?”

You shook your head. You were scared of what would happen if you opened your stupid mouth.

“Y/n, please.” Hyunjin begged. His voice was shaking. “Tell me why.”

You shook your head again.

“Y/n, please.” His voice cracked.

“Hyunjin,” you paused, taking a shaky breath, “it’s because I love you. I’ve loved you ever since the first moment you smiled at my pathetic ass. Even when you hurt me more than anyone has hurt me before… I never had a choice, Hyunjin. It’s always been you.”

You tore yourself away from Hyunjin, embarrassed to your core. That was the most humiliating thing you’ve ever done, but at least you had closure now.

“Y/n…”

“No, Hyunjin. You’ve torn me down and humiliated me enough already. What more could you possibly want?” You demanded, aware that everybody around you was staring.

“Y/n,” Hyunjin rasped, “It’s only ever been you. I’ve spent the last three years miserable knowing that you were with someone else. I’ve-I’ve never even been with another girl in the past three years. I know you have no reason to believe me because I was such an ass. I am such an ass. Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for projecting my insecurities on you, I’m sorry for accusing you of things I know you’ve never done, and I’m sorry for anything else I might have fucking done. Y/n, I love you. Please, I don’t fucking deserve it, but is there any way you could forgive me?”

You stared at Hyunjin’s bloodshot eyes, tears freely flowing down your cheeks, and before you could even think, you found yourself pressed against his lips. Your eyes closed, savouring the feeling of his soft lips touching your own. His wet cheek pressed against your own, and with a nudge of the nose, Hyunjin deepend the kiss with a raw passion in which you’ve never felt before.

You cradled his head, relishing in his silken blonde hair as you brushed your fingers through his locks. He sighed in response, his breath tickling against your cheek. You were fully aware that everyone on campus had seen both your messy confessions of love, but you didn’t care. All you could do was replay the moment that Hyunjin had said those words — those three tiny words — over and over in your head as you ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his soft, honey lips.

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ceruleanchillin · 3 years ago

Text

Honeymoon Headcanons: Mayans Edition

Characters: Angel, Coco, EZ x F!Reader

Miami (Angel)

It wasn’t difficult at all to decide where the two of you would take your honeymoon. When you weren’t gonna be naked, Angel wanted you in sundresses and bikinis. You wanted him in linen shirts, and to feel him up in a club. Couple that with you both wanting a tropical environment, and Miami it is.

Angel letting you handle the accommodations, because you seem to know more about what you wanna see/where you wanna go than he does. He only cares about a bed and shower for when he’s not taking you in the inappropriate places. He just hands over the cash, though he complains about his hurt wallet.

Angel hard as a rock when he sees your new name on your plane ticket.

The two of you nearly missing your flight because your husband needs to “show his wife he loves her”.

You babying him on the flight, because Angel has never flown anywhere before.

“Mami, it’s perfectly valid to feel like a flying toaster can’t safely get you anywhere but a casket. Which they can’t even put you in, because you’ll be everywhere!”

Cue you distracting him with kisses and dirty words in his ear, which gets you initiated into the Mile High Club

Barely making it into the cute little condo before the two of you are at it again, collapsing in the late hours to jet lag and mutual satisfaction.

Your first official day is spent dragging Angel around the humid streets. Knowing he stresses easily if you plan things too tightly, and wanting to wing it yourself. It’s surprising how well you to fit in, it almost feels like home.

Angel switching from being jealous, because your tiny cotton sundress is attracting more than just his attention, to him kissing all over your dewy skin because so much of it is visible.

You getting as jealous as Angel, because it seems like each place you drag him to has openly interested ladies. It’s the white linen shirt that he won’t fully button no matter how many times you try to make him.

Angel basking in the attention, and even playing it up to force you to be the one to initiate inappropriate public sex.

Smirking when you break after a woman pays for his (and unintentionally yours) order at a small cafe you stepped into and you snap and drag him to a hidden place.

“I only love you querida, mi alma.” he whispers in your ear when he bottoms out inside you.

You two are a beautiful couple. Photogenic as all hell. Alone, neither of you have a problem attracting interest, but together, you make people want to be seen around you. That’s why you have no problem club hopping to all the exclusive places.

Angel taking photos and videos of you dancing because he’s so enthralled. He can’t wait to show your kids one day when they ask why he fell for you, and he explains how full of life you are.

Getting enough liquor in Angel to get him dance somewhere away from the club, especially since he (lies) and says he can’t.

You and Angel competing to see who can get the most people to buy your drinks + the two of you losing track because you both get drunk.

A quickie in the coatroom is the prize, Angel fucking you to the hypnotic beat.

Spending a few hours apart the following day, only to still keep texting and FaceTiming each other until you met up, touch starved, at a small restaurant.

Deciding to spend the rest of the day at your Airbnb laid up under each other after Angel scores weed. Teasing Angel about his monetary complaints when you spend all night enjoying the small backyard pool.

Angel thanking God for getting an adventure loving woman as his soulmate when you wake him up the next afternoon to inform him you rented jet skis for the day.

You being impressed when, while jet skiing, Angel silver tongues your way into an invitation to a nearby yacht party out of the host.

FaceTiming Gilly to make him jealous that you two are doing Hookah and drinking Casamigos in a hot tub.

Angel ramping up the mockery when EZ and Coco appear on screen, attracted by Gilly’s whining. Everyone looking overworked and salty, while you and Angel are living your best non-sober lives.

Slipping away from the party to one of the rooms on the boat, because once again, you and Angel never know when to stop teasing each other before it ends up in sex.

Feeling bold enough to suggest that since Angel’s been documenting so much of the trip, that maybe he should film this too.

The aftermath being a surprisingly sweet series of kisses and confessions where the two of you express how thankful you are to have found each other. How you can’t wait to build a forever together.

Marfa + Roswell (Coco)

No one knew how you got Coco to agree to travel for your honeymoon until you finally revealed where you were going. Splitting a week between Marfa and Roswell.

You and Coco are that “weird” conspiracy, incense, and weed couple, so it makes sense.

Giving Coco an edible before you leave, because like Angel, he doesn’t fuck with air travel like that.

“They got me with that bullshit in the military, but that was out of my control. You askin’ a lot right now, you’re lucky you’re cute mujer.”

Coco getting progressively handsy during the flight as the edible hits. Eventually, you stop fake-fighting his neck kisses and forward touches.

Also like Angel in that he’s unafraid to become a member of the Mile High Club.

The ride from the El Paso airport, to the car rental place, to Marfa takes far longer than Coco would like.

He’s used to long stretches of trip on his bike, and when you notice him becoming antsy, you distract him with interesting facts about Marfa.

The entire time, Coco can’t help but think that you’re the perfect road trip co-pilot, only to realize he actually meant his life in general now.

Coco proud as hell when you fall in love with his accommodations choice like he did. The colorful airstream trailers of the El Cosmico hotel are the two of you through and through.

You both trying to be responsible adults and refresh after travel, but continuing to get lost in each other during the whole process.

Shower sex -> Making out while drying off -> Touching while searching through your bags for something to wear -> bed sex -> repeat

Looking thoroughly mauled when you finally manage to get Coco off of you and into the car in search of food the next afternoon.

Coco being happy you can’t cover up due to the heat, while you wonder what superpower he and his boys have that let them wear flannel and long sleeves in the heat.

Dragging Coco to a cute cafe you saw on instagram, and him knowing, by the hipster design of it, that his wallet is about to cry.

Stealing food from his plate, and laughing at him sucking his teeth and whining when he catches you.

“You’re stuck with me forever now Johnny sooo….get used to this.”

“Small price to pay for that I guess.”

Finding small shops to go to and being Siamese twins in every one. Coco showing he has good taste in a lot of things one might think he wouldn’t. Him opening up his wallet at everything you 'ooh' and 'aww' at. He can’t help it, he likes you happy, and your kisses and adoring looks are addicting.

For almost everything you get, Letty gets something too. Neither of you wants that tantrum when you get back.

You fighting yourself to avoid the art supply store, and Coco not having it.

“I have so many supplies already, it’s an addiction at this point.”

“So? Get some more. It’s our week, we shouldn’t stress about shit.”

Coco bragging on your talents and successes to the art shop cashier when you checkout.

“Cocoooo.” you murmur hiding your face in his shoulder, arms around his waist.

“Don’t be shy ma, you’re fucking amazing. I love your skills.”

Cue the cashier swooning at the two of you.

Finding unique liquor stores and getting tipsy on samples. It becomes twice as fun when locals, and other tourists alike, start discussing the Marfa lights with you, and you and Coco impress everyone with your ideas.

Being invited to a bonfire smoke session with the other El Cosmico guests when you get back.

Sketching Coco by the firelight, because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in that moment, and now he’s officially yours.

The sex being on another level of intimate that night, because all day you and Coco have been engaging in your respective love languages, and it culminates in mutual need for each other.

The drive to Roswell being more tolerable for Coco, but he still misses his bike. Your excitement about AlienFest is so palpable however, he quickly forgets.

Your hotel being more conventional, but the people you meet making up for it. Finally, you and Coco aren’t the weirdest ones in the room.

Taking the time before the festival starts to check in with friends and family and accumulate odd souvenirs for them. You believe Coco is intentionally getting them stuff they’ll hate.

“Taza won’t wear that baby, he has better taste in jewelry than UFO earrings.”

“Ok, but can he bitch about us not getting him anything? Plus, you can guilt anyone into anything.”

Doing cute edible pastries at the festival.

“You know Aliens are demons right? Jack Parsons and L. Ron Hubbard were doing summoning rituals in the Mojave in 1946, and Roswell was the following year.”

“Word?…Shit. Tell me that again when we’re not rolling. I wanna read about it………you’re so smart mami.”

Coco realizing between every snack stop, every dance he shares with you, every trinket you pick up, and every little conspiracy tidbit you share, that you’re his wife now. That the peace he’s been feeling all week, that he thought he’d never have, is going to be his new normal.

New Orleans (EZ)

You and EZ both enjoy engaging with history and culture, and felt that your honeymoon should be built off of your shared interests. During your meticulous wedding planning, it was decided New Orleans would be the honeymoon destination. It didn’t hurt that you missed your southern roots too, even if you weren’t from New Orleans.

Traveling with EZ is a dream considering you’re both pretty organized, together people. He’s not afraid of flying, but you’re always a little nervous.

EZ being Best Husband™️ and soothing even the most minor of your stresses by turning your attention to the excitement of your trip and your new relationship status.

Teasing EZ in-flight won’t get you Mile High Club initiated, because he finds it much more entertaining to punish you by letting you work the both of you up, and making you stay that way for the duration of the flight. He’s got enough will power to suffer through it, because your soft whines make it worth it.

The airbnb is everything it was promised to be, and you’d appreciate that later, but all you can think of is your husband when you step through the door. That’s the other half of why EZ likes to leave you waiting. Your aggression and exclusive desire for him gets, and keeps, him hard.

It rains the following day, which is just as well, because neither of you are quite ready to stop physically expressing your love for each other. The day consists of ordering food, falling out of your clothes and onto each other, separating to read, falling back on each other, and quick naps.

Angel sending mocking texts in your Reyes group about how you’re trying to turn his brother bamma like you, only to stop when you threaten him with no souvenirs.

EZ and you taking responsibility for your own tour because let’s face it, you both know exactly what you want to see, and can plan a more satisfying tour for the both of you. You take turns deciding where to go next.

When it’s his turn, EZ picks an art museum, and can’t quit smiling about it. You think it’s because he picked a place he really wanted to go to.

“Babe, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” your excitement always makes EZ’s heart race with his own.

He hands you the guide brochure he picked up at the door, folded to the section he wants you to look at.

“Faith Ringgold exhibit?!”

He hums and nods, grunting when you knock into him with a hug.

“Thank you for thinking of me. I love you.” you look up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears and he just kisses you, afraid he’ll cry if he says anything.

The two of you avoid the tourist trap spots for lunch and find a cute family owned cafe. You order for the both of you based on what you know about southern cuisine and both of your tastes.

You love watching EZ fall in love with the food as he keeps asking “Can you make this?” about everything he eats.

The two of you walking through the Garden District in the evening. Hands swinging between you with no plans but to admire the beautiful homes and foliage.

EZ noting how awestruck you are, and you describing what you love about the historic, towering homes.

He catches that when you describe what your dream home in the area would be, he and your future children are mentioned frequently, and it makes butterflies dance in his stomach. He can picture your family in the yards around him.

The two of you almost make it back to your Airbnb, but give into your baser urges after all the domestic conversation. EZ pulls you into an alley for a quickie, the two of you fighting to silence the other’s vocal expression.

You teasing EZ after that he’s more like his brother than he thinks. Him teasing back the two of you would’ve been caught and arrested if he was like Angel.

The following day is relaxed and less planned. The both of you getting thoughtful gifts for each member of your family, blood and otherwise. EZ scores major points for the gifts he suggests for your mom and dad, and you kind of want to jump him again.

EZ is glad you’re impressed, but it’s nothing to him. It all comes naturally because he loves you so much, and refuses to be anything other than the husband he knows you deserve.

AN:

I didn’t want to add this, cuz I wanted to end on a sweet note, but you just know Angel would accidentally send that vid to one of his boys.

Personally, I lose it for shit like this. Anything domestic in writings is my jam, so I decided to make these headcanons.

- Fun fact: Jet Ski is kind of like Bandaid in that it’s become the generic term for “personal water vehicles”, but it’s actually a specific brand’s name for their PWVs. I learned this while writing this enjoy💀.

#mayans mc #mayans imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #coco cruz #coco cruz x reader #ez reyes #ez reyes x reader #reader insert #angel reyes imagine #coco cruz imagine #ez reyes imagine

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years ago

Text

Drive Me Insane

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer Reid is always getting on your nerves. Tensions rise and one day, he pulls you into the file room and snaps… just not in the way you think….

A/N: Early-Season-Twelve!Spencer. this is full-on HATE SEX fulfilling this request by @safertokiss and this request by @mggswhore. It’s rough and v sexy and angsty. Gif is mine! Enjoy! <3

tags: smut, penetrative sex, hate sex, enemies to lovers, angry sex.

RATING: EXPLICIT

Words: 4,363

MASTERLIST

You fucking hated him! You HATED him!

“REID!” storming out of the elevator, you headed straight for the desk of the asshole who had pulled the worst prank ever. “What the fuck is this?!” you screamed, slamming your coffee cup down on his desk, the beverage slightly spilling onto his work papers.

“Hey!”

“Don’t you fucking ‘hey’ me!” you were trembling with anger, bouncing on the balls of your feet and trying to ignore the people staring around you. “Explain yourself!”

The little cockfuck put on the most innocent expression you’d ever seen him manage.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, more to the onlookers than you. “Is there a problem?”

“Did you put him up to this? Did you tell him to write that?”

“Write what?”

Huh. He actually looked genuinely confused. But you weren’t buying it. You knew how evil he could be, always teasing you, correcting you, moving your stuff around, pulling pranks. If it weren’t for his stupid, pouty face, you’d slap the look right off of it. Oh, and you were coworkers but that was honestly more of an afterthought.

When it came to Spencer Reid, there was nothing that could stop you from exacting your revenge. Except maybe Unit Chief Emily Prentiss. Who, conveniently, hadn’t arrived yet.

“Don’t bullshit me, Reid! You fucking told the barista downstairs to give me some phony number! What’s the joke? I call it and it’s a phone sex line? A suicide hotline? What?!”

But Spencer simply stared at the cup, mouth dropped open and staring at the ten neatly written digits gracing the side of your coffee cup, a little heart to the side of them.

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke, “I didn’t… I didn’t do this, Y/N.”

A refute to that was on the tip of your tongue but he suddenly looked at you and you noticed a slight tint to his cheeks that for some reason, had you believing him.

“Wait…. You mean…?”

“Yep.” He stood suddenly, chair flying out from behind him with the force with which he stood. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer. Excuse me,” he grunted, storming off down the hall, leaving you thoroughly perplexed.

“What…. What just happened?”

Tara approached you, placing a light hand on your shoulder.

“You got a dude’s number and thought it was a prank by Reid. Happens to the best of us.”

Well, yeah, that was rather obvious. You were more referring to the fact that he had stormed off once he came to the same realization.

But, as always, before you could think for too long, Garcia sent out a mass text alerting you to a new case. Your contemplation would have to wait for another time.

“Maybe he just didn’t want anyone to see him?”

The team was gathered around a roundtable in the dingy police office of Wamego, Kansas, discussing why the unsub was dumping the bodies so far on the outskirts of town.

“No, that doesn’t make sense,” Reid blurted, gesturing toward a map of the area. “There are more than enough areas to hide a body within the town’s limits. Plus, he dumped in the middle of the day so being seen isn’t his issue, he can hide easily in plain sight. The edge of town somehow connects to his comfort zo…. What?”

He trailed off once he noticed the grumpy look on your face. It wasn’t like you could help it! He was always refuting every little thing you said and constantly interrupting everyone.

“Well, Reid, if he’s so interested in the edge of town, why are all his victims abducted from the town square?”

Spencer stepped closer to you, eyes narrowing and lips turning downward.

“Maybe, Y/N,” he bit back, “he’s not picking these women at random, but targeting those he sees that look so obviously vulnerable. His end goal is to dominate them.”

“Seriously? Alexa Wells was a blue belt in karate and Tala Williams took a regular self-defense class. There was nothing vulnerable about these women at all!”

“If you weren’t so busy fretting over their physical capabilities maybe you would have noticed, they both possess a petite stature, making them more susceptible to attack.”

He was towering over you and staring at you with anger in his eyes. You, too, were having to fight back the urge to scream at him.

“So, what, you’re saying everyone with a small stature is asking to be dominated!”

“Nope, just you.”

He looked more shocked at his words than you did, taking a step back and glancing around the room for a moment before referring back to the map.

“I’m-I’m saying that the-the victims were all-all small—of-of small stature and that’s a-that’s a connection. Excuse me.”

And he bustled out of the room, leaving behind an audience of your coworkers whose gaze fell on you. Uncomfortable with the weight of their eyes on you, you excused yourself as politely as you could despite the anger and confusion rising in your throat. You didn’t return until you managed to compose yourself, and by then, the team had a new lead and Reid’s outburst was forgotten.

But not by you.

If the word ‘hate’ was a face, to you, it’d be Reid’s. To be fair, his face did possess a very… slappable quality. But, of course, you’d never act on that impulse. He never could quite push you to that edge. But, oh god, he got close sometimes.

Jesus. It was nearly 6:00 AM and you’d gotten a text about fifteen minutes ago from Garcia, summoning you in. Now, sitting in the briefing room, your thoughts had begun to wander into very vulnerable territory.

“Y/N?”

His voice grated your ears like sandpaper, the perfect tool to snap you out of your reverie. Why the hell did he have to arrive so goddamn early?

“Yes, Reid?” you replied, putting on the most bored voice you could manage, not even bothering to spare him a glance as he sat down in the seat immediately next to you, shrugging off his shoulder bag.

“Why are you here so early?”

You looked at him, startled by the question. Who the hell was he to ask you that? He came in early all the time and you never bothered him about it.

“None of your business,” you snorted, glancing down at your phone, trying to get back to reading your article. But with Reid in the room, it was hopeless.

“Jeez. Okay. I was just asking a question. You know, when someone is so defensive it actually has a lot to do with their social life. Usually, they aren’t getting enough mental stimulation outside of work and in rare cases, it attributes directly to whether or not they’ve been receiving enough pleasurable intercourse.”

He nodded curtly as he finished, his own gaze dropping to a regular manilla folder, not even taking in your expression of pure shock. He must’ve found your silence startling enough because soon after, he looked up at you, crooking an eyebrow.

“What?” Quickly, his expression shifted to a mix of understanding and his cheeks went red so quickly. “Oh! I wasn’t saying that-that-that you weren’t… that you aren’t… I mean, not that you are… I just mean that….”

“What, you’re saying I’m not getting fucked properly?”

His mouth dropped open just as Rossi and Alvez entered, conversing loudly enough to miss your snarky comment. Clearly, though, they could detect the charged atmosphere in the room.

“Are we interrupting?” Rossi, the bastard, asked coolly, taking a seat as Luke did the same.

“Nope,” you smirked as more of the team entered. “Not at all.”

Although there was a pressing case to focus on, you couldn’t help but glance at Reid a little more often than usual.

“Alvez, Lewis, you two talk to the parents. Reid, Y/L/N, go to the BDSM shop and see what they can tell us about the whip.”

The urge to roll your eyes and groan was almost too great. Being in a car with Reid for too long gave you hives and as you typed the address into your phone, you glared at your phone for displaying the time to get there as a whole half hour. In a car. Alone. With Reid.

Strangely enough, it had been about a week or so since he’d made any snarky comments to you, seemingly preferring to keep his distance. You wondered what being stuck in a car together would be like. Hopefully quiet. Silent, ideally.

You really shouldn’t have raised your expectations.

“So, the whip is actually a pretty common item so if he paid with cash, it’s likely there won’t be much of a trail. If you wanna wait in the car, I understand, I can just run in and get the info.”

Huh?

“Why would I wait in the car?” That might’ve been the first genuine question you’d ever asked him excluding when you’d first met and asked his name. Since then, it had been a whirlwind of sarcasm and rhetoric.

“Y/N, it’s a sex shop,” he said, a slight glance over to you as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel slightly.

“And?”

“Well… I mean, you don’t wanna go in there.”

“Says who? Reid, it’s part of the job. I’m not scared of sex like you are.”

That got him stuttering, huffing and puffing, and trying to backtrack so fast he might as well have thrown the car in reverse. But you had arrived before you knew it, settling into an empty spot right in front of the store.

“I-I’m not s-scared of… of… I’m not scared of that!”

Unbuckling your seatbelt, a surge of confidence rushed through you as you exited the car, quickly quipping, “Oh, I can tell judging by how easy it is for you to talk about. It’s okay, Reid. Not everyone can handle dominating someone. Certainly not someone as submissive as yourself.”

As you entered the shop, you could feel his tension next to you the whole time you questioned the woman at the front desk. But there was something… off about it. It was like he wasn’t nervous being in the shop, he had no issue making eye-contact with the witness, speaking calmly and coolly, and not avoiding looking at the various sex toys scattered about. No, he was nervous about something else. Something you had said?

But it wasn’t like you didn’t tease him ruthlessly and regularly anyway. Had you struck a nerve? What was different?

Maybe he just didn’t like talking about sex stuff with you. It made sense, he hated your guts. Still…. There was something.

Something that didn’t get brought back up again until a week later, when the two of you were sitting at your desks during a lunch break with everyone gathered around, conversing quietly. Then Alvez had to go and stir the pot like the little pot-stirrer he was.

“Well, I’d have killed to see how Reid acts in a sex shop. Hey, Y/L/N, please tell me there were lots of dildos,” he joked, earning a laugh from the majority and a groan from Reid.

“Actually, he was much less freaked out than I expected. I assume it’s because he didn’t know what half the stuff in there was.”

Sparing a glance at Reid, you were startled to find he wasn’t looking away in embarrassment, but staring straight at you, glaring daggers.

The laughter bubbling up inside your throat at the teasing immediately subsided, replaced with a sudden rush of… fear? No, that can’t be right. You weren’t scared of Spencer Reid. The guy was harmless. Right?

“Can I talk to you privately, Y/N?” he hadn’t said it like a question you could say no to, rising from his seat and storming off to the file room.

Resistance was futile, and in this case, unnecessary, because whatever Reid had to say to you in that room, you could easily turn against him. Ricocheting his remarks came so naturally sometimes you didn’t even notice you were doing it.

You entered the filing room, fully expecting to see Reid shuffling papers and mumbling, working up the courage to yell at you.

Which is why you didn’t expect to be shoved up against the door as it slammed shut behind you, Reid pinning his hands on either side of your head, holding your faces inches apart. Your breath left and so did the words you’d been rehearsing on the short walk to the small room. You felt your mouth drop open and your gaze unintentionally fell to his lips. It took you a minute to realize he’d been talking. Desperately trying to play back what he’d said, you felt your earlier anger rise back up in your throat.

“What’s your problem with me? Huh?” he was unrelentingly forcing you to meet his eyes. “Why are you always coming after me for the stuff I say? Jesus, you’d think you’d show me a little compassion sometimes, but nooooo. Little miss princess just gets off so good making the team punching bag feel like a piece of shit.”

At his words, you finally found your voice.

“Me? You’re always the one fucking correcting me and bossing me around! You pick fights with me all the goddamn time!”

“Name one time.”

“Hmm, let me see, the time you told Garcia you needed her to hack my phone for a case! The time you fucking told me I was asking to be dominated. Just last week you assumed I didn’t wanna go into a sex shop because, what, I’m too innocent? Or maybe you just want to think of me that way and you hate that it’s not true. Hey, how about the time you pulled me into the file room and pinned me up against the door like a goddamn butterfly?”

You were getting to him, you could tell. His face had slackened but his gaze was much stronger, scrutinizing all of your features carefully.

“You know what else? You’re the only one on the team that calls me by my first name. And I have no idea why! Is it just to bother me or do you actually just not care about giving me any indicators that you respect me? I’ve been a profiler for ten years now and I still can’t read you for shit! You’re so fucking hot and cold you give me freezer burn! Christ, Reid. Sometimes I can’t tell whether you wanna fight me or fuck me!”

Three seconds. That was the time it took you to register that his lips were suddenly on yours, biting and nipping, tongue fighting to get into your mouth.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the FUCK!

Okay, listen… Normally, if someone you hated with all your heart pressed you up against a door and started to make out with you with the force of a thousand suns, you’d do what any sane person would do; shove them off of you and kick them in the junk.

But Spencer Reid drove you fucking insane.

So, when you suddenly found your hands grabbing his face and pulling him in closer to you, opening your mouth enough to let him devour you whole, it wasn’t all that much of a rational decision. In fact, a whole series of irrational decisions happened in quick succession.

He was pressing you against the door so harshly, it felt safe to let your feet leave the ground, legs coiling around his hips and gasping into his mouth as you felt his length brush your inner thigh. Fuck, he was hard. Oh god. The pressure must have caused your mind to really comprehend what in the fuck was happening here.

Spencer Reid was kissing you up against a wall at work. But that wasn’t even the weird part. The weird part was... you actually liked it.

So, pushing down the thoughts of what a terrible idea this was, your hands gripped the lapel of his suit jacket, frantically pushing it off of his shoulders. As it hit the floor, he groaned, seemingly realizing where you wanted things to go.

He pulled back, tearing open the buttons of your blouse, words falling from his beautifully swollen lips.

“You’re such a goddamn tease. All the time. Wearing these tight little tops and expecting me to not rip it off of you?” he tsked, pulling open the top to reveal your bra, stopping in his tracks at the sight.

He was taking too long. Too fucking long.

Your hands reached for his belt, hurriedly sliding the leather from the strap, snapping it off of his pants and pushing them down.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want this to happen,” you snarked as he picked you up and plopped you down on the small metal table in the center of the room, brushing aside all the papers atop it. Your back hitting the cool metal made you hiss but you went on, “I bet you brought me in here because you knew if we were alone together for more than five seconds, you’d snap. You wanted to fuck me, Reid.”

You were trying to sound like you still had some wits about you, but the truth was, they’d all flown out the window the moment his lips met yours. Those fucking lips.

He didn’t bother denying your claims, opting to roughly pull down your skirt and underwear, one strong hand tightly holding your bare thigh the whole time. Those fucking hands.

“Maybe,” when he spoke again, his voice had dropped two octaves, a register you’d never heard before that sent a flicker of pure delight through your veins, “you’re projecting, Y/N. I think you’ve wanted me to hold you down and fuck you this whole time. You’ve wanted me to shut that pretty little princess mouth up in any and every way possible so you rattle off teases and insults to make up for the fact that you’re just a little whore who is begging to be fucked.”

You heard your moan echo around the room before you even noticed you’d opened your mouth. Quickly, but not quickly enough, his huge hand snapped over your lips, stopping any further sounds from escaping. His other hand dug into his pants pocket and you could hear the crinkle of tin as he rolled on a condom.

All you heard before the world disappeared was, “Shut the fuck up,” as he slid into you in one perfect thrust, his left hand roughly digging into your hip as he grunted with the effort of holding back. But that wasn’t what you wanted. That wasn’t the point of this. And you told him just that.

“Reid,” you groaned through his hand and he relinquished his hold, “fucking fuck me!”

Apparently, you didn’t need to tell him twice.

He didn’t even bother trying to ease you into it, roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you against him with each sharp thrust. It took all you had to keep from screaming as a wonderful mix of pain and pleasure pushed you closer to the edge. Jesus, you were close to coming already after barely a minute.

It was like you said, Spencer Reid drove you fucking insane.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to submit to him completely. There was still quite a bit of fight left in you.

“I bet you’re loving this. Thinking you’re finally in charge of me. I got news for you, Reid,” grabbing his shoulders, you pulled him down so you could whisper in his ear, relishing in the hiss he emitted at the change in angle. “I’m more than you can handle.”

Saying he went wild would be an understatement. He somehow managed to lift you all the way up off of the table, spin you around, and reenter you sharply within the span of two seconds. This time, you couldn’t stop the pathetic mewl that left your throat at the feeling of him inside of you.

Actually, what probably got you was the horrible, dirty things he was whispering in your ear unrelentingly as he pounded into you, one hand on your hip and the other yanking your hair back roughly.

“You think I don’t know how to handle a spoiled little princess? Tell me, who’s the one moaning and writhing underneath me? Huh? Oh, can you not answer because I’ve got my cock buried in you?” He slipped the hand that was in your hair down to your cheeks, squeezing and forcing them into a pucker. “Answer me.”

You could feel how close you were but his thrusts were so slow and patient now. He wasn’t nearly as close as you were. If you were doing this, you were making him come first. You needed to keep some power. You did decide to relinquish a bit of control to him.

“P-Please, Reid….” you whispered, smiling to yourself as he responded exactly as you’d expected.

“Please, what?”

He was moving so slowly now, barely giving you any relief, slowly pushing in the tip only to pull out hastily, leaving you grinding back on his for more.

“Please… please tell me you don’t actually believe that,” you snarked, pleased with the way he suddenly froze, seemingly not expecting to hear that from you.

Your shock, however, didn’t last long. Because after a very pregnant pause, you heard the rush of air come from behind you. Because you felt a sharp, sudden, stinging pain on your left asscheek. Because Spencer Reid had just fucking spanked you.

“Ahh!” you yelped as the heat flared up your body as he sped up his thrusts, entering you deeper and deeper each time.

“I think someone needs to teach you a lesson about what happens when you mouth off to the wrong person. This,” he added with a particularly sharp thrust, “is your punishment, princess. You actually thought I couldn’t handle dominating a little brat like you? You’re the one begging to be filled up like a little whore.”

“Reid,” you let the name slip, feeling yourself slowly giving in more and more the further he pushed you.

“Say my fucking name, princess.”

“Ah! Spe– fuck! Reid!” you keened, happily letting your body give in to the feeling of being totally and utterly used by him, barely noticing almost calling him his first name.

“Tell me, princess, do you even know how tight your little cunt is bouncing back on my cock? I bet I feel so big inside you. I guess you finally got what you needed: to be fucked properly. You’re lucky that I’m the one to do it. I know just how to handle you.”

You groaned as he snaked a hand around you to circle your clit relentlessly, barely managing enough energy to squeak, “I hate you.”

There was anger behind the words, but not honesty. And Spencer knew. It was clear as he leaned in to whisper in your ear a final time, he also knew exactly how to push you over the edge.

“Prove it.”

And in an instant, your climax hit you, washing over you like a waterfall, feeling your walls clench and tighten around Reid’s cock. Drowning in the pleasure of your orgasm, you didn’t even notice the way he grunted as he spilled himself inside of you.

You definitely didn’t notice the way he planted soft kisses to your shoulder blades as he pulled out, whispering small strings of praise. Or the way he stroked your thigh as he carefully pulled your underwear back up. You definitely didn’t notice that.

You hadn’t quite regained your energy, but you knew you had to stand up. Every muscle in your body, however, begged you to collapse to the floor. Luckily, Spencer caught you, prompting you to look up at him, trying not to show the hope that was so obviously shimmering in your eyes.

Strangely, he seemed to be looking at you in a similar sense. Not exactly hopeful but… worried?

“You okay?”

You nodded weakly, breaking the eye-contact and pulling away from him, scurrying to put your clothes back on.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

You knew you sounded curt but you just couldn’t bring yourself to express emotion right now. It was stupid, you knew, but in the heat of the moment, you had felt… connected to him. In a purely animalistic way, surely. In a ‘fuck me so hard you impregnate me’ way.

Pushing the fact that that thought got you a little excited to the back of your mind, you turned back to Reid who had also fully redressed. He was shifting on his feet, avoiding looking at you fully.

“Well, now we know what to do next time we butt heads,” you joked, smiling softly to diffuse the tension.

He laughed but you could tell it was superficial. There was something the two of you weren’t saying and you were both waiting for the other to say first.

“We should probably get back out there, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, coughing and doing a ‘ladies first’ motion towards the door.

“Thanks,” you muttered, opening the door slightly, then glancing back at Reid, seeing him looking at you with the words neither of you would say.

“Hey, Spencer?”

He tried not to let his shock show but he did a horrible job. You couldn’t blame him though, it was the first time you’d ever called him by his first name.

“Y-yeah?”

“I… I don’t hate you.”

It wasn’t much, but he smiled liked it was everything. Maybe, in your own special way, it was.

“I don’t hate you, too.”

Giving him a little nod of your head, there was no way you could suppress the joyous smile that lit up your face as you exited the file room. Your coworkers would surely be suspicious, but you didn’t want to think about that right now. Spencer was the only thing on your mind the whole rest of the day and you were sure he’d stay there well into the week.

After all, Spencer Reid drove you fucking insane. Now, you knew, in more ways than one.

TO BE ADDED TO TAGLIST

(sorry if the tags aren’t working! i’ve been having some trouble)

@whollytaciturn @101donuts @thegingerfairchild @safertokiss @cielo1984 @thupidalthea @darkacademiacherry @matthewreid@aloha-ashley-taylor@justchiara-02@spnobsessedmemes @sweet-darlin@dreamy-reid @brokenanxiety @thatsonezesty13 @psychedelic-phase @beautifulalmondstudentduck@awhollandx@baddreamsandbrokenhearts@simp-for-mgg @swagdaddycam@gejatume@url-under-construction@krymson182@addie5264 @pinkdiamond1016 @gublergirls @georgia4287 @thineeminnie @untainted-memories @cm-is-kinda-cool @le-vie-en-amour1 @happyiidiot @wechillingcoop @blankets-for-bees @stewie-castle @dolanfivsosxox

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #matthew gray gubler #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fandom #etherrealoblivion #smut #season twelve reid #reid #spencer

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chaozsilhouette · 3 years ago

Text

Moonlit Musings

The night is such a perfect time to face one’s darkest truths. Shrouded in the moon’s light what can one do but admit to their flaws. It can be a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, only if you let it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

It was a quiet night.

The full moon hung high in the heavens accompanied by millions of stars. Not a cloud to be seen, an ideal night for passions to run wild. Normally people would be taking out their telescopes or arranging romantic picnics.

Sadly, nights like these only filled Sun Wukong with dread. It was a night like this when he was finally able to return after the Journey. That was the night he learned he had lost a precious treasure.

When he returned, he expected to be greeted by his subjects until Macaque showed himself. He expected to be strangled as the pale furred monkie admonished him for his recklessness. He expected to watch as fury transformed into tearful joy as they embraced one another for the first time in over five hundred years.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The moment he set foot back onto Flower Fruit Mountain, he sensed something was very wrong. Like his previous return trips, his subjects greeted him with loud celebrations. The new mothers showed off their infants. The young ones wasted no time climbing all over him, taking in the scent of their king.

The immortal elders, however, looked concerned.

That was when he realized Macaque’s scent on the mountain was far too faint. Even the magical signature of his clones no longer felt fresh.

Macaque was nowhere to be found. The monkeys reported Macaque had returned a few years after he stopped by the mountain earlier in the Journey but not as his usual self. He didn’t respond to any of their questions. He didn’t even take time to check in on the infants. He didn’t say a word.

He just entered the mansion, but no one saw him leave.

Entering the mansion, Wukong dashed to their room desperate for answers. Opening the doors, he saw the room was horribly empty, sure all of his belonging were exactly as he remembered them, but all of Macaque’s stuff was gone. Macaque’s closet was empty and all his books had vanished. Despite his desperate hopes, there wasn’t any signs of a struggle or hidden messages to be found.

Macaque left of his own free will, but why?

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bed they shared so many nights together. Every time he dared, he awoke expect to be greeted with the comforting warmth of familiar presence, instead he opened his eyes to a cold emptiness.

The lack of answers broke his heart, but he didn’t have time to start tearing the landscape apart trying to find him. Now that he was back for good, he had so many responsibilities to catch up on. He was determined to be a good king for his subjects and that meant ughthinking things through. Plus, he wanted to spend as much time with his master and brothers as possible.

Then there was the concerning fact all his previous allies had severed their alliance with him.

Apparently after all the fuss with the Demon Bull King, word had spread that Wukong broke their alliance by disrespecting protocol and attacking the royal family. Plus, his new position as a defender of humanity annoyed more than a few respectable demons. Combined with the sheer number of powerful demons he killed on the Journey cemented the idea that having an alliance with him would only end poorly.

He was banned from court meetings and the other kings in the surrounding areas wanted nothing to do with him. The chaotic nature of his past had finally caught up to him and in the worst possible way.

He was still recognized as the Monkey King of the Sun Court but was effectively blacklisted. No one wanted to mess with him, but they also didn’t want to interact with him. Not good for his mental health to say the least.

Simians are naturally social creatures. Wukong was used to constantly being around other people and learning new things. His time imprisoned was not kind. His first year of freedom had him constantly climbing over his brothers and master just to reassure himself that this was real.

And now that he couldn’t reconnect with old faces unless it was through a battle to the death…It forced him to delve into old memories. Memories that while sweet only made the emptiness more pronounced.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Sun Wukong smiled as he watched Macaque’s reaction.

The six-eared monkie was furiously pinching the bridge between his eyebrows after he shattered a boulder with a careless headbutt as though it would make his life mercifully easier. “You’ll have to explain it to me again. What did you mean by ‘no longer under Yama’s jurisdiction’?”

“Exactly what I said. I was napping. Having some time to myself, when out of nowhere some idiots tried to take my soul to the afterlife.” Wukong explained as though having entities of death rip out your soul to drag it to the underworld was no big deal.

“Bet you weren’t happy.” Macaque couldn’t help but smirk at the flippant tone. He just made it so difficult to stay mad.

“Not in the slightest. I barged my way to the top brass, bunch of cowards called the Ten Kings (totally undeserved titles by the way) and demanded what the fuck was going on.” He was still ticked off even if the payoff was sweet. Seriously! Did immortality mean nothing to these cowards? They couldn’t even play it off as him dying in battle. He was in the peak of his youth! “Can you believe they tried to play it off as a misunderstanding? Should have smacked the loudmouth when I was there.”

“So, through a series of ridiculous events, you erased your name from the records of the dead.” Macaque could easily piece together the rest from there. No matter how ridiculous the odds. He learned never to bet against his friend when a problem could be handled with brute strength or intimidation. If it didn’t look like such an answer was possible, clearly, they hadn’t experienced the force of a determined Wukong. Something about facing a ticked off monkie of practically infinite strength and invulnerability left harden conquerors pissing themselves.

It was hilarious.

“Not just mine. In my infinite wisdom, I erased the names of several of the monkey inhabitants of esteemed Flower Fruit Mountain, including yours.” Wukong playfully booped Macaque’s nose.

Turning away to hide a light blush, Macaque scoffed to cover his embarrassing response. “Typical. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you doing something insane.”

“I know. I’m just that awesome.”

“So what? Are we now double immortal?” That was the question wasn’t it. Due to their master’s instructions, they were immortal and ageless, so what exactly would this give them? He didn’t feel any different. He couldn’t sense any new powers or changes in his instincts.

His counterpart, however, had other things on his mind. “Who cares. All I know is that those idiots have no control over our souls anymore.” And with that the King took his rightful place across Macaque’s lap as the other returned to his scrolls.

Wukong instead took the time to examine his friend, who finally gained enough confidence to fully drop his glamour and embrace his true appearance.

He still couldn’t believe Macaque actually had six ears. The weird part was how natural they looked, almost as if seeing him with only two was bizarre. The coolest part was how each pair softly glowed a different color. Blue. Purple. Red. Sometimes Wukong would just stare at them, imagining that he could see glittering stars emanating from that glow.

Suddenly those magnificent ears twitched. Macaque didn’t bother looking up from the bamboo scroll. “A trespasser...multiple, boar and vulture demon. Another hunting party”.

“Again. Ugh. Don’t these idiots ever give up!” Don’t get him wrong, Wukong loved a good fight. What better way to prove how superior you are to others than to steal what’s most precious to them? But even he was starting to grow bored with the sheer number of hunters that thought kidnapping his subjects was a quick cash grab.

After the fifth army he returned in pieces to the surrounding upstart lords, you’d think they’d take a hint.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only powerhouse on the mountain. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while. Why don’t I defend the kingdom while your highness enjoys a show?” Macaque set aside his reading material, eyes glittering with bloodlust.

Wukong returned the smirk with one of his own. “I’m always up for a good thrashing. One request: make it glorious.”

“Don’t I always.” Macaque joked as he retrieved his spear from his own shadow.

Wukong summoned his cloud and claimed a good vantage point. Once again, he marveled at his friend’s hearing. Judging by the distance it would have been at least three hours before he would have detected their presence.

Kicking back, he transformed some hair into a fruit platter and waited for the screams.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

To this day, Wukong knew Macaque was alive. Thanks to his efforts combined with the intense training, the monkie was double immortal. Besides, that monkkie was way too stubborn to die. He would survive purely on spite if he had to.

Macaque left, but why?

While he may have effectively isolated himself, that didn’t mean he didn’t hear about the other courts. A few centuries ago, he heard rumors about the formation of a new court by someone under the title of the Macaque King. Supposedly they were a powerful monkie who knew way more than he had the right to. For a brief moment, Wukong dared to hope it was his old friend, but it didn’t last. The few recounts he caught described him with black fur. Besides, he knew how much Macaque hated the title of King. Even when Wukong offered him the position as co-ruler of his kingdom, the pale monkie adamantly refused.

Still, he was curious.

For a few weeks he could have sworn he detected a familiar scent hiding underneath Mk’s. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the immortal monkeys questioned him on the mango infused scent and what his plans were. It was almost too much to take in.

To think he returned to teach his student instead of showing his face. It hurt just to think about it. He chose to ignore the beckoning scent until it became impossible to ignore MK’s leap in progress. Then it just vanished like it hadn’t been testing his patience. Like it hadn’t brought him to the brink of shaking the kid upside down until he confessed where his old friend was hiding. The kid probably grew wise, or someone told him to change his bathing habits, and by the next training session it was all but gone.

Dragging his hand down his face, Wukong tried to reevaluate his thoughts.

Getting mad at the kid wasn’t going to solve anything. He knew he hadn’t been the most attentive master. Hell, the whole hammer exercise at its core was a desperate attempt to remove a painful reminder of better times. His master would be disappointed in how he was running away from his problems, but would encourage him to take the steps to be better. Zhu Bajie would be a sarcastic little shit, trying to get him riled up so the monkie would prove him wrong. Sha Wujing would sit him down and wouldn’t let him leave until they talked everything through.

He had to make things right with the kid. He deserved a better master. And this New Years he was gonna get one.

He spoke, praying the winds would carry his voice to his Warrior.

“Macaque. I know it’s been a while, but…I-I want to talk. I know you’re out there, somewhere I can’t reach. I miss sparring with you. I miss lazy days napping in the shade by your side. I miss defending the mountain as we held contests to see who could take out the most trespassers before their common sense kicked in. I miss you. Please come home.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The moon was high in the sky. Stars danced in the heavens as the faintest hints of vibrations pulsed through the concrete from the late-night dance clubs. MK lay awake, his mind struggling to make sense of it all.

Ever since Macaque disappeared in order to remain undetected, he kept thinking about his relationship with the Monkey King. Sure, he was being trained and he was definitely making progress. The monkie was still on his case for supposedly cheating on him with another mentor. Nothing MK said or did could make the monkie think otherwise. Thankfully, he was no longer shooting him suspicious glares, but the underlying tension remained.

The sad truth is they just weren’t that close.

He would have expected to learn more about the Monkey King on a personal and emotional level, but he just couldn’t get past that wall. Their training sessions felt more like just the Monkey King arranged just to get it over with. There was no passion at all.

Okay, perhaps that last bit was an exaggeration.

When you peered past the arrogance and pride, you found one socially awkward monkie. It was similar to Red Son the more he thought about it, both seemed to find it difficult to talk to or relate to others in a friendly setting. Sure, Monkey King projected a friendly demeanor and called him “bud”, but if he didn’t know any better he could have sworn the monkie was afraid to take that final step.

The last few sessions had taken a bit of a turn in a positive direction as Sandy would say. Maybe Monkey King decided it was time to make a change? Maybe this was all a trick so MK would lower his guard and reveal Macaque’s identity? Maybe he was just tired and should have conked out an hour ago?

Maybe.

Reality was so different from the legends. When Tang first introduced him to the Monkey stories, he was hooked. He loved listening to the tales of the infamous trickster that flipped off every major religious figure with unbridled confidence. Meeting the Great Sage in the flesh was like a dream come true until he was exposed to the King’s less pleasant tendencies.

Mk couldn’t help but wonder just how much confidence the Monkey King had in his training skills. Did he ever train someone before? Could MK talk to someone about this without appearing even more ungrateful than he already looked? Why didn’t he stop Red Son from unsealing his father when he was there? Why didn’t he simply seal the entire family when they were reunited? Why did the five times immortal sage decide that now he needed to train a disciple? Was Monkey King not telling him something important?

He had so many questions and not even the foggiest idea of where to start looking. Or perhaps he did?

The truth was he missed Macaque. The dark-furred monkie may have only taught him for a month, but the progress he made and the level of care he was exposed to made him feel as though he had finally unlocked the ability to fly.

He missed the regular grooming. He missed learning about the demon community. He missed learning new ways to mess with Red Son through appropriate court manners.

Watching the fire user freeze up at the term “honorable prince of the Iron Bull Court” just made him laugh, when his hair combusted it really matched his face. Now that he thought about it, were those horns starting to peek out of his forehead? And maybe the slightest hint of a tufted tail swiping the bottom of his coat? Seeing the demon frantically compose himself was a treat he didn’t know he needed. He still had the video saved as one of his favorites, didn’t hurt that Mei caught it at the perfect angle.

Oh yeah, he missed that.

With any luck, New Years would be the start of something better.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On an island that remained surrounded by unquenchable storms, a single black-furred monkie sat cross-legged in a secluded part attached to the palace. All around him fruit trees and bushes bore a hefty bounty releasing an intoxicating scent of life.

Ears twitched.

Macaque opened his eyes, aroused from his meditation. It was odd. He had the faintest sensation that someone had been talking about him. Now that wasn’t exactly unusual, he made plenty of allies and enemies across the centuries. What was odd was that the voice sounded like someone he once cherished.

But that couldn’t be right.

The deceptive silence of his personal orchard gave him no answers. Not that he really expected it to.

For some reason he refused to identify, Macaque turned to the single peach tree in the grove. A tribute from his past and a reminder of his mistakes. But it was also a valuable resource once he learned the truth about the peach’s properties. He used its powers to protect many happy relationships, if only it could have helped him so long ago.

No matter.

He still had many projects to work on, including one successor just rife with insecurities. He honestly felt bad ducking out as he did. If things were different, he would have offered him a new life. His Stars were always happy to welcome a new member into their budding community.

As a bonus, his presence would have interrupted their constant attempts to set him up with new dates. He adored their efforts but being paired with partners who only wanted power or he would view only as friends was not something he enjoyed. Although watching them mentally destroy those they didn’t find suitable for him was quite entertaining.

Either way, New Years was coming up fast and he still needed to approve a few changes. His Stars were determined to make sure this event topped last years in every way possible, but they had to make sure they didn’t set the orchard on fire again. Or worse, they could launch the fireworks into the storm barrier. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the tornadoes and clouds turned different colors as explosions rang throughout the night.

It was beautiful but lost its charm after the third day.

#lego monkie kid au #Vanishing Shadow Au #sun wukong #mk #monkie kid #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #rainbow eared macaque #crazy family #Macaque!Dad

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slasherhaven · 4 years ago

Note

Hi there! Could I request a fluff alphabet with Otis since you did a NSFW one? I know he isn’t super fluffy but I think there are some things that he’s be into

Warnings: brief mentions of sex, drugs, and alcohol.

Otis Driftwood Fluff Alphabet:

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

While he thinks you’re stunning, it will be your personality that makes him fall for you, that makes him want to keep you around. After all, if he just thought you were a pretty face, you would have a much worse fate. He loves it if you like weird or morbid things, and he loves your acceptance of him and his family. Of course, accepting the fact that they’re criminals is important, but he likes that you accept the family for all their strangeness.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Otis doesn’t have any plans to be a father and he likely isn’t going to suggest the idea of starting a family, he doesn’t think it’s a life he would want. However, if you were to become pregnant, he is not disappointed at all. If he was going to have a child, it would definitely be with you. He didn’t think he would feel this way about having a child but it feels right, he’s excited to be having a child with you. Plus, the thought of you carrying his child sends a thrill down his spine.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Otis enjoys cuddling more than he’d let you believe. Whether it be him laying on his back while you rest your head on his chest and drape your leg over his hips, he’s got his chest pressed against your back with an arm wrapped securely around your waist, or you’re laying on your back while he sprawls out on top of you, head on your chest, arm around your waist, your hand in his hair.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Nothing fancy, more chaotic than anything. If you share his hobbies, the perfect date would be picking a victim together and having some fun. If not, that’s perfectly fine, you’ll just do something else. You could go out drinking but he actually prefers having a date night somewhere more private if neither of you plan on causing chaos. Getting drunk and high together is just fine by him. If you want to do something else, all you have to do is say the word and he’ll do what he can to make it a reality.

E = Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?)

Otis is the dominant one in most situations, including your relationship. That being said, you have more power over him than you realise.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were falling in love?)

Just when he realised he was thinking about you when you weren’t around, when he realised you were the only person who put a smile on his face just by being around, when he realised he trusted you. It was all to sappy and it made him feel sick with himself. But how couldn’t he feel that way when you accept him fully for who he was, when you laughed along with his fucked up sense of humour, when you came around just to see him.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Otis is not a gentle person. However, his gentleness with you is surprising. He can still be rough handed and he’ll still pace the length of the bedroom raving about something that happened that day. But he’ll sit with his arm wrapped around you, kiss the top of your head when you’re laying together, even lets you play with his hair. You almost have a soothing effect on him, leading to some uncharacteristically gentle moments.

H = Holding Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Otis doesn’t have much of an opinion on hand holding. He likes to have a hand on you in some way, showing you off and showing everyone that you’re his. So, if you like hand holding, that’s a perfectly acceptable way for him to get his message across. So sure, lot’s of hand holding when in public.

I = Inspiration (Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?)

Nobody is ever going to make Otis ‘see the light’ or anything, he’s always going to be the way he is. However, you are somebody who comes along and accepts him, allows him to be himself, and that does help him be more sincere with you.

Otis has a way of bringing you out of your shell if you’re particularly shy. His (and that family’s) confidence in just being themselves really helps you do the same, making you more confident.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Less jealous, more possessive. He doesn’t question your feelings for him or even your loyalty, he just doesn’t like the people around you doubting it (even if they had no idea you were together). He will pull you towards him, glaring down whoever had been flirting with you.

The only time that he doesn’t seem to get genuinely jealous, and even pouty about it, is if you’ve been spending a lot of time with Baby. You two are bound to become good friends with spending so much time together, so you start spending time alone together. Otis get’s jealous over this because you’re supposed to be his, why are you spending so much time with his family? However, he does like that you get along with his family, so whatever.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss?)

Intensely. Otis’ kisses are always intense, a quick or soft kiss from this man his rare, every time he kisses you it’s like he wants you to remember it, wants to leave you a little stunned. Grabbing the back of your head and tilted your head back, pulling away and leaving you breathless.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

It’s possible that it could be either of you. Otis isn’t ashamed of his feelings so it’s possible that he’ll just tell you straight up. However, if he hasn’t said anything but you say ‘I love you’ first, it will definitely encourage him to be honest about his feelings as well.

M = Memory (What’s their favorite memory together?)

There are two possibilities, depending on your feelings about the family’s hobbies. If you share their hobbies, Otis’s favourite memory together will be the first time you shared a victim. If not, he would lie if you asked him. He’d tell you that it was the first time you slept together, but that’s not really the truth (even though he is a big fan of that memory).

His favourite memory of you both together would actually be the first time you agreed to drink (and/or smoke) with him, before you were together. It was a tame night by his standards but he thought it was amusing to see you with lowered inhibitions. Bonus points if you ended up falling asleep on him (extra bonus points if you had kissed him at some point). That was the beginning of Otis having some very annoying feelings for you.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

The Firefly family isn’t wealthy but they don’t need money to get by. And Otis doesn’t need cash to get you whatever you want. He does like to spoil you, if you ask for something, he will do whatever he can to get it for you. Of course he isn’t going to buy it, he’ll either steal it or kill for it. But he is determined to get you what you want.

O = On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)

The family could tell almost instantly. Otis doesn’t pay attention to people outside of the family unless he’s planning on killing them, but he clearly enjoys spending time with you, always having you around. The family could tell that he cared about you just from his strange behaviour, and they teased him about it. You’d come around and Otis would smile, you’d make each other laugh, he’d comfort you when you were upset. Of course the family noticed and new what was going on, he didn’t hide his feelings as well as he thought he did.

He isn’t always great at expressing his feelings, at least at first. Normally he just takes what he wants and doesn’t care what anyone thinks but he can’t do that with you. He gets much better as expressing his feelings as the relationship grows, becoming more honest and open about them, but only with you. The rest of the family will still receive a snappy comment if they pry too much.

P = PDA (Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?)

Otis is very upfront about your relationship, he wants people to know that you’re together and he wants people to know that they can’t have you. He’ll always have a hand on your or an arm around you, showing you off to anyone. He’s not shy about it at all, he doesn’t have a very strong boundary when it comes to PDA, he will happily just make out with you in public. He actually kinda likes making strangers uncomfortable, so he really doesn’t care.

Q = Quaint (What is their favorite non-modern thing?)

The family live pretty off the grid. The most modern appliances they have are an old television, a radio, and a car. He isn’t too fussed on modern things like that, he can do with or without them for the most part.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on rainy days?)

On a day where there is nothing to do, where the two of you choose to just laze around the house, you’re probably just going to spend most of the day in bed, only really leaving to get something to eat and to use the bathroom.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Otis usually cheers himself up by making other people suffer, that shouldn’t be surprising. However, now that you’re around, you’re a perfectly effective way of cheering him up. You’re the only one who can get through to him when he’s in a bad mood, the only person who can calm him down.

However, he isn’t good at comforting or cheering people up. It’s not exactly something that he has to do much either. But when you’re upset, he does genuinely want to help. If something is wrong, he will try to fix it, hoping that will make you feel better. If you’re just upset and need him to hold you, he will. He’s pretty good at that part, just holding you, maybe even starting to stroke your hair, but he’s more awkward when it comes to verbally reassuring you, not knowing what to say but assure you that things would be alright.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Otis may not seem like the chatty type but there are things that he likes to talk about. He likes to talk about old ‘adventures’ either before he met the family or afterwards, his favourite kills (though he won’t talk about any of that if you don’t like it). He’s more talkative when he’s in a ranting sort of mood and that’s not really a good thing. He’ll rant about the day he had, about the things he hates, or even some conspiracy theory. There aren’t many pleasant things for him to talk about, you’re the only pleasant thing in his life. However, you like listening to him talk about his art because he’s so passionate about it.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Either spending some time in the basement, taking out his frustration on some poor victim, or spending some time with you. That used to be the only way he could truly relax but now you’re here and you have such an affect on him. Just having you around soothes him a little. When he needs to get his frustration out and really need to relax, sex is always a good method.

V = Value (How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

Your relationship is very important to him. The most important thing to him is the family, everything else comes and goes, his family is what’s most important to him. You are now part of that family, making you possibly the most important thing in his life.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

CLICK HERE for Marrying Otis Driftwood Headcanons

X = XOXO (Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?)

Otis is more affectionate than you might assume. He’s always got a hand on you, an arm wrapped around you, or you sitting on his lap. He wants everyone to know that you’re together. He also doesn’t care about PDA that much, usually happy to give you an intense kiss no matter where you are, it helps that he likes making other people uncomfortable. And he’s softer behind doors, allowing his kisses and touches to be gentler, letting you cuddle with him. He has to keep up appearances after all.

Y = Yearning (How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?)

Otis mostly sulks or gets in a bad mood when you’re separated for a while. The whole family notices it and teases him about it, but that only makes him more angry. And when you get back, he tries to act like he hadn’t missed you as much as he did, still pulling you into a kiss. It’s Baby or Mama that will tell you how much he missed you and how grumpy he was when you were gone.

Z = Zeal (Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?)

Absolutely! Otis is the type of partner to tear the world apart looking for you, he’d do anything to keep you safe. He’d break out of prison and find a way to cross the world just to get back to you.

#otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

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the-sanders-sides · 3 years ago

Text

(wtit spoiler warning)

unpopular opinion, but im not really a big fan of the idea of the orange side being wrath or anger. while similar to inside out, the sides arent really emotions; rather, they are your different conflicting thought processes when you work through a problem. you have the side of you that is logical and knows the facts and tries to use reason to solve things, the side of you that focuses on your morals and tries to use steadfast loyalty to your values to solve problems. there is the side that is anxious and tries to use to make use of fear to protect u and solve the problem.

there are the sides of you that are creative that think of fantastical solutions to your problems, whether good or bad, that try to take you to your dreams and desires. with roman, this is with disney-esque tales and hopes that keep thomas going and having a reason to things. with Remus, I think it may be using the intrusive thoughts to get Thomas to slow down when thomas is overwhelmed and wants to rest, which makes sense bc, at least with me, ik when I have an uptick of intrusive thoughts, it usually means i need to rest and relax so I'll be less overwhelmed and take care of myself.

and there is the side that is deceitful and cunning and mean and self-centered as a means towards approaching your problems with your self-preservation as the primary thing to uphold. unlike morals which may tell you to share what you have, this deceitful side of you acts selfishlessly to make sure that you are put first, no matter the cost. which is why I think any anger or wrath would come from Janus. anger as an emotion is often an expression of self-preservation. you feel anger when you know you've been hurt and you lash out in anger to protect yourself. janus has lashed out a fair amount for the small amount of episodes he's been in.

by now, it's also fairly agreed upon that Janus and patton are opposites/counters as well as roman and remus. with both pairings, it's seen that you need a healthy balance between those two sides, those two lines of thought, to not completely fall apart.

i am a firm believer that anxiety is the counter or parallel or opposite of logic. your logical thought processes get so messed up when you're anxious and scared, and logical thinking is often used as a tool to combat anxiety. this was explored between Virgil and Logan very early in the series. virgils anxiety causes cognitive distortions that weaken logans logical processes in being listened to. logans logical thoughts are able to tame Virgil's anxiety when it's too strong. i think Logan and Virgil balance each other out. those are the two who make a healthy balance together which has been discusses, albeit briefly, early on (remember the Yerkes Dodson curve?).

this is why I think that whatever the orange side, the seventh side, is, it won't be a counter to anyone in specific, and it won't be wrath/anger. right now, orange is showing up when Logan is weakened in someway. when janus kidnaps him in svs redux, orange only shows up after that. when Remus messes with Logan in today's wtit and logan is frustrated and out of it, only then did orange come through. we don't know if orange can control other sides as well, but if it's like janus at all, where janus tries to remove logan and his rationality from the problem solving, there's a reason it would focus on messing with logic & rationality to achieve it's goal of however it helps thomas.

because remember, all the sides do what they think is best for thomas. the sides are the manifestations of his different thought processes driven by different outlooks that all have an end goal of trying to solve thomas's problem in that way. but in the end, it is always up to thomas to choose which thought pattern he'll listen to. thomas chooses what he will do based on the persuasiveness of his different thought processes.

(for example, c!thomas comes across a wallet on the sidewalk. morally, he thinks the wallet should be turned in to the local authorities at all costs no matter what. his self preservation instincts tell him to take the cash and leave the wallet behind since the detour would waste his time. his anxiety tells him to leave it alone so he wont get framed for stealing. good creativity/roman would make him imagine a grand heroic prize for tracking down the owner of the wallet and personally delivering it, and bad creativity/remus might make c!thomas imagine finding and killing the wallets owner so he can take all the money. logical thought would say for c!thomas to return the wallet to local authorities if he has the time to do so, and if not, to leave it be. these are all just the different thoughts running through c!thomas's head which can then be personified as sides, and whichever action he does is attributed to the side who had the most persuasive line of thought, but none of these lines of thought are trying to hurt thomas, it's all different ways of protecting/helping him.)

so whatever orange is, needs logic and rationality to be a bit disrupted before being able to be persuasive enough to be listened to. this doesnt really seem like anger/wrath to me. someone can be rational and angry (ie. planning a revenge later rather than hurting someone now, passive aggression, etc.) which all feels more like Janus things to me, and I think you actually need to be rational to use your anger effectively. going ham on someone without thought will not have the same effect as thinking about the best places to hit without them getting you back. anger and logic don't need to keep each other in check like deceit and morality or logic and anxiety; rather, they need to work together. i dont think logan would be opposed to a side that represented anger at all. and orange would not destabilize logan so much if it were anger.

plus, Virgil is the only side that really represents an emotion. but I think people generally always have a sense of anxiety and fear in their problem solving, but anger/wrath isn't always there. for a quick issue like a lost wallet, i can see how these other sides of thought processes can exist, but i dont know what anger would tell Thomas to do there since anger is just an emotion.

so the question is, what is a thought pattern that exists when solving problems that tries to protect/help you, while also needing to push away or overpower your sense of logic & rationality to be persuasive enough to be listened to? I don't have the answer to this but I'd love to hear what other people think about this! especially if u see flaws in my reasoning of why orange isn't anger, I'd love to know!

#im not sure how coherent this is but i tried my best!#sanders sides #working through intrusive thoughts #orange side #logan sanders #remus sanders #mine #my writing #meta #ts meta #orange side theory #sanders sides meta

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mrwinterr · 4 years ago

Text

The Devil Always Works Harder

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

Summary: Your husband can’t make it back in time for your wedding anniversary. The town’s sheriff takes notice and doesn’t plan to let you celebrate alone.

Warnings: Adult themes 18+ | Smut (unprotected & non/dub-con sex, vaginal penetration & fingering, belly bulge, breeding kink). Infidelity. Corruption. Language. Manipulation. Sexual assault. Mentions of alcohol consumption & misuse of drugs (date rape drug).

Disclaimer: The Devil All The Time (2020) film spoiler-free! Please be careful if you’re out in public and NEVER leave your drink unattended! I’d rather go thirsty than accept a drink from someone I’d just met, seemingly sealed in a bottle or not.

A/N: I’m not sure when date rape drugs became a thing, but for the sake of this fic, let’s just forget about specifics in the drug timelines.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes quickly turned into an hour, and already you’d drank at least two glasses of water, ate a small basket of bread that was offered, the second growing stale in front of you, and you even made a trip to the restroom, but still there was no sign of your husband in the dimly lit restaurant.

Tonight, was your third wedding anniversary but it felt longer than that. You and your husband were high school sweethearts, so there’d been plenty of anniversaries throughout the years, and the love never faltered. The pair of you were very understanding and caring of each other. He was really the one.

He’d been away for at least four days now on a business trip, and while you were used to him traveling for work, tonight was different. It was your wedding anniversary, and he was set to return to town in time to celebrate another milestone of the relationship. It’s not like there was much to be excited about when hitting the streets of Knockemstiff, but tonight you were given a reason to look extra nice and just enjoy an evening out with your husband, maybe even cap it off lovingly in bed. Who knows? Maybe tonight would even be the night you two start trying for a family.

You do your best to sit there trying to not look so dejected as you stare at the condensation budding on the outsides of your glass of water, but you’d been occupying this table for a long time now while the other occupants enjoyed their dinner around you. They just had to have noticed you’d been stood up by now. The eyes felt heavy on you. It’s not until the waiter tending to you the whole night breaks the spell.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Sitting up straight you listen to what he has to say; perhaps if you needed yet another refill or wanted to go ahead and place an order, but it wasn’t any of those. Instead, he informs you that they’d received a phone call a few minutes ago from your husband, claiming he was extremely sorry for not being able to make the reservation.

Still keeping up with appearance, but you know you’re failing miserably to look okay, you thank the waiter for the message and leave a decent amount of cash to pay for the establishment letting you practically loiter there for an hour and occupy the table.

Before you leave, you ask if you can borrow the phone to make a quick phone call, which they were kind enough to allow you to. Your husband had given you the number of the hotel he was staying at a few towns over, and you wanted to not only make sure he’s okay, but at least speak to him on your anniversary.

“Hello?” You hear his tired voice through the receiver.

“Hey, babe, it’s me,” you reply, clutching the phone closer to you, like that’d make you feel any better. The distance was still large, and you longed for him to return.

“Hey! Honey, I’m so sorry,” he says, very apologetic, “the client is asking us to come back and present a final pitch tomorrow and then they’ll make a decision on if they want to sign a deal with us...”

The company he worked for was very prominent and credible in the area. He provided for you both just fine and you knew how important this client was to them. He was leading this pitch with his boss close by, and you were made aware that if they successfully closed this deal it would send him to a promotion and you’d both be set, enough to possibly leave the rough town of Knockemstiff. This was no place for you, and he was determined to get you both out of here as soon as he could.

“Oh, yeah. No, I get it,” you respond, trying to sound as understanding as you could without giving off how crushed you actually were that he wouldn’t be returning tonight. Twirling the coiled telephone cord around your pointer and attempting to lighten the mood, “I do. I know they’ll sign!” You boost, and hear his cute laugh drown with the static of the connection.

“Happy Anniversary,” he says sincerely, and you can tell that he genuinely feels bad for standing you up tonight, but at least he had the decency to call the place and let you know.

“Happy Anniversary,” you repeat then continue to let him speak. He promises you he’ll be back tomorrow and if everything goes as planned, he’ll spoil you with a trip, a little getaway for you both. It fills you with so much hope that after the exchanges of “I love you”, the call ends, and you’re feeling slightly better than you had minutes ago.

Make no mistake, you were still upset, letting your make-up, hair and dress go to waste. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to extend a trip. You thought you were used to it, but again, it was your anniversary. It knocked you down a bit that life was cruel enough to not let you have just this one thing.

As if that wasn’t enough, the sudden downpour was the cherry on top of it all as you were now left standing on the sidewalk, using your long dress coat as a makeshift umbrella, while waiting for a cab. You’d taken one earlier to the restaurant, but the idea was to go home with your husband in his car that he’d taken for the trip.

You contemplate for a few minutes to leave your post and head back towards the restaurant to stand under the awning for shade. With this much rain, you were doubting you’d be able to hail a cab anytime soon. The water seeps into your nice heels with each step through the puddles, water splashing against your legs, and the ends of your dress dripping.

Once under the tiny roof, you shake off the water on your coat before slipping your arms back through the sleeves and try to warm up as best as you can, while waiting for the rain to let up.

“Mr. Perfect stand you up, tonight?” You suddenly hear a voice pipe up next to you. The voice is smooth and a familiar one, and not just because it was prominent to the townspeople of Knockemstiff, but because you’ve heard it almost your whole life.

You turn to see Lee Bodecker, childhood friend and the town Sheriff, uniform-clad, badge slightly fogged from the moisture of the weather but still as shiny as ever on his left breast pocket and topped with his campaign hat.

“Hey, Lee,” you greet him, ignoring the comment about your husband, as he lights a cigarette.

He always called him that and hardly ever by his first name. Even physically around the man, he’d resort to calling him by his last name and you’re not sure if it’s because there was something personal between them or where you all stood in life, but surely them having known each other since high school you’d think there would be no need for formalities amongst...friends? Acquaintances? Whatever they were to each other, they weren’t strangers.

You’d lived in Knockemstiff your whole life and was around the same age as Lee. You grew up going to the same school, church, camps...he was a constant in your life. You liked to think he was a friend. He on the other hand liked to think more. He always wanted more than what he already had.

“You look nice tonight,” he compliments before blowing out a cloud of smoke into the stuffy air.

“Thanks, but no,” you begin explaining why you ended up alone tonight, “he’s having to extend his business trip,” not like you owed it to him or anything, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to kill time talking to an old friend.

“You sure it’s not something else…” he trails off while looking forward, not paying mind to your bewildered expression. Of course, you’d think that was the most outlandish idea. He knew you were madly in love with your dear husband and he would never think twice about him cheating on you. The two of you were just too perfect. It was almost sickening to him.

“He would never!” Your voice raised, but not as to shout out at him, but loud enough to appear insulted and defensive. Your arms crossed over your chest, upset that he would insinuate your husband would be unfaithful to you. You trusted him and he trusted you, that’s what made the dream work.

“I’m not saying he would,” he says flicking the white stick of the ashes on the end, “...would be a damn fool to,” the last bit more to himself before taking another drag.

If he thought you didn’t catch the last part, he was wrong. You weren’t completely oblivious to Lee’s advances, no matter how little they were. People talked, your husband especially, noting the soft spot the Sheriff had for you. He was always nice to you and you didn’t think any harm of him. He was rough around the edge, but that’s how he had to be. Plus, he was married, and your heart was spoken for.

“How’d you know I was even here?” You ask curiously. How did he know your husband was a no show tonight?

“Think I’m some stalker?” He jokes, a grin spreads across his features, and you blush embarrassed you’d made it sound as if he was a creep, “I was hungry and heard this place was nice.”

He was in there? You’d been people watching the whole time you were inside, and not once did you recall spotting Lee at a table. You shrug that thought aside, settling with the fact that he was a trained official, and it was his job to blend in and keep a watchful eye.

“I wouldn’t know,” your remark sounding a tad bit petty. You didn’t get to eat anything on the menu aside from the free bread. A few more seconds go by, before he speaks again, waiting for the uncomfortable topic of your date being cancelled tonight to pass.

“You’re never going to catch a cab in this weather,” he points out, tossing the rest of his cigarette onto the soiled ground and stomping on it. He hears you let out a big sigh knowing he’s right. “Come on. My car’s not too far,” he offers, his head cocked to the side in the direction of the lot.

The last thing you wanted to appear as was helpless, but that’s what you were in this moment. Spirits down, soaked and stranded. You shrug your coat off again to cover your head before reluctantly accepting his offer, not noticing the wicked curvature of his lips on his pudgy face.

He wasn’t having dinner inside that restaurant at all. He was aware that your wedding anniversary was tonight, and had your husband been able to attend, Lee got some sort of sick pleasure in tormenting him in front of you, even with something as silly as bringing up a past memory unfavorable to your beloved, and luck seemed to be on Lee’s side tonight.

Lee knew where you lived. He’d visited a few times from the outside, and as an official he knew the town almost like the back of his own hand. The rain seemed persistent by the second. You could make a run for it up the steps of your front porch into the safety of your home, but you knew how bad the roads could get on a stormy night. Lee didn’t leave you stranded tonight, and you wouldn’t feel right leaving him stranded in his police car overnight.

You hang your coat on the nearby rack by the front door and extend the courtesy to Lee, who hands you his hat and worn-out leather jacket. He slips off his wet shoes, not wanting to leave a trail of muddy prints in the pristine home. It was a beautiful house. You kept it nice and clean, it was basically a model home. Lee couldn’t help the scowl on his face, while your back was turned to him as he followed you deeper into the house, just thinking about how your husband won again. His home couldn’t compare to what he gave you.

After stowing away your heels in the closet, trading them for a comfy pair of house slippers, you tell Lee to make himself comfortable in the living room, while you disappear into the kitchen to make a quick snack. You opt for a nice variety of meats, cheese, crackers and some fruit on a small charcuterie board.

When you returned to the living room, Lee had been inspecting the artifacts that decorated your home. The framed photos of you and your husband, his bright smile almost mocking him as he glared at it. He’d sure like to knock that smug son of a bitch stiff himself, alright. Other items that scattered the home were of the souvenirs from his trips, tiny religious figures, and other trinkets that made the home your own. Oh, you had it made, he thought.

Lee never liked your husband. He believed he was well on his way to snagging you, until he moved into town that year during high school, and when you both met, people called it love at first sight. Lee felt like he was always out bested by him, he one-upped Lee in almost everything. It was ridiculous, but it wounded his male ego, and even up to now, with the kind of power he possessed, he still felt like he came in second place and your husband ultimately won because he had you - the real prize.

He does his best to maintain his composure at the sight of your exposed cleavage, the dress you wore accentuated your bust nicely, as he turns around just in time to see you bent down to place the board on the coffee table. When you come back up, you offer him a seat on the couch.

“Got anything nice to drink around here?” He asks, and you mentally scold yourself for not being a good hostess and initially offering him a beverage upon arrival. You list out a plethora of usual choices, water, coffee, tea, a bottle of pop even, but he was looking for something hard. Neither you or your husband were heavy drinkers, so you didn’t stock up on liquor, but tonight was supposed to be special, so technically you had something.

“Well, I do have this nice bottle of wine, but…” your words trailing off. You probably wouldn’t be able to enjoy it anytime soon. If your husband successfully closed the deal tomorrow, he’d probably be thrust with more responsibilities and longer hours, before you two could escape on that getaway he promised to take you on. “...I was saving it for my anniversary tonight,” the words come out pathetically and you curse yourself for even mentioning you had the bottle and its purpose, but you were awful at lying.

He lets out a tiny scoff, no doubt amused on being reminded that Mr. Perfect couldn’t be here to rightfully celebrate your union. “There’s no use letting it go to waste, right?” He says, it was almost effortless on his part, like his whole domineering appearance made people bend to his every will.

“I guess you’re right,” you agree and turn back around to grab the pricey bottle and two glasses. It was a little weird at first, drinking with an official of the law, but he did his best to make it feel more like two friends catching up over drinks.

Suppose it had been the effects of the alcohol, you were definitely not a frequent drinker, but it made you feel more at ease and open enough to get through the night with your guest. Lee knows very well that you’ve been a good girl your whole life. The girl next door. An angel in his eyes, who attended church regularly and lent a helping hand to the community, he knew with his track record you’d never settle or trade the life you had now to be with his sorry ass. Not to mention, he let himself go after his marriage to Florence; he’d settled that was for sure.

He kept tabs on you, more than of the suspects he’d be tipped about. You figured he was just dedicated to his job and not much of his seemingly harmless rounds around your usual routes. It wasn’t a big town after all; you ran into people all the time.

With your legs folded underneath you, the alcohol settled itself in your system enough for you to relax, not realizing your dress had ridden up, so much that if Lee were to just recline a few inches back, he’d get a peak of your panties. The food and bottle of wine halfway through, Lee started probing into your personal life. Was everything all that it cracked out to be? Were you really happy with your husband? What did he have to do?

He works his way cleverly in conversation. Starting with old memories of growing up together and embarrassing high school moments, before asking the more personal ones. The elicited memories served as a blanket of faux trust, to get you to confine him. Good old Lee, you’ve shared countless memories with him, you could trust him, right?

You didn’t realize you’d drunkenly admit how you’re ready to start a family with your husband, but the thought of his impending promotion would halt the idea. Maybe he wasn’t ready just yet. You’re alone at home for the majority of the day, you were ready and were getting tired of waiting, but you made a vow to do whatever it takes to make this marriage last even if it meant putting a pause on things you wanted.

Lee notices the wistful look that washed over your delicate features. On the outside you were happy, but on the inside, you yearn for more. A better life outside of Knockemstiff, with a more devoted husband and someday soon a baby in the picture. No doubt, he would’ve given you that immediately...

“I’d never leave yo-” he quickly catches his slip-up, before recovering, “Florence. I’d never leave my wife alone, especially on our own wedding anniversary,” he says, voice growing almost husky, and suddenly you’re uneasy at the close proximity between you two.

You could even smell the alcohol on his breath, see the way it made his lips shine, staining it a deeper shade of red. You remain unmoving for a moment, like you’re hypnotized by his alluring blue eyes. You thought they were rather nice, very different from your husband’s eyes. Your mind clouded, you started convincing yourself of something you’d never felt before, an attraction to Lee Bodecker.

It was absolutely not a match made in Heaven, but Lee always wanted a taste, and you were the embodiment of forbidden fruit. He notices your glossy eyes but thinks nothing of it. You’re scared, scared to break your sacred vows, ashamed of yourself for thinking about someone in another light other than your husband.

Not wanting to turn this into a pity party or even think about what would happen if you didn’t cut the tension now, you excuse yourself and keep busy by cleaning up the remnants of your “dinner” and pick up the charcuterie board to take back to the kitchen and begin cleaning up. The slight wobble in your step indicates you’re almost gone and would have to call it a night.

In your absence, Lee fishes out a tiny plastic bag he had stashed with him from a previous bust. Some stupid teenage party, and with his power, it meant he had access to all the confiscated substances the precinct collected. He decides to pour you both another glass but pays special attention to yours. When he hears the rush of water from the kitchen, he takes advantage of the stalled time to slip and allow the drug to settle in your glass, careful to measure just enough based on your body mass, so as to at least keep you conscious.

When you reappear, Lee stands up, glass in each hand, yours outstretched to you. You want to refuse, knowing your limit, but not wanting to be a downer, you give in and accept the doomed glass.

“To wedded bliss?” Lee toasts to you and your husband, raising his glass slightly up towards yours, to which you force a smile and clink the cup ware together.

Two gulps in, your head starts spinning, and you blink your eyes a couple of times to keep your line of vision straight, but it doesn’t. Lee sets his glass back down on the coffee table and swoops right in, an arm cradling the small of your back to keep you steady before you stumble to the floor. He grabs your glass and sets it next to his, still holding you close, your hands are covering your face as if to wipe off the effects of the alcohol.

“You alright there, gorgeous?” He asks with a light pep in his voice as if he found some humor in this. He certainly did. You were a lightweight and it wouldn’t take long for him to finally get what he’s always wanted. It couldn't have been more of a blessing in disguise that you were left all alone, vulnerable on this particular night of your life. The devil always works harder…

“Yeah, I-I think I just need to lie down,” you say disoriented. Eyelids heavy, you try to focus on Lee’s concerned face, your hands settled on his chest.

“Then let’s get you to your bed so you can rest properly,” he nods before taking your hands in his calloused ones. He reveled in how soft they were and how nice they’d feel wrapped around his cock, tugging him until he came undone.

“It’s okay, Lee,” you attempt to thwart his plan and remove your hands from his. A part of you had some sensibility to remind you that your bedroom was sacred, and no one else, especially another man that wasn’t your husband should be left alone with you in it, “I-I can...m-make it there on...m-my own,” you struggle in convincing him.

“I’m not so sure you can, sweetheart,” he starts to reason, “just let me help you,” and then pulls your body back to prevent you from falling again. You let out a strange noise, which causes him to laugh. You stagger in guiding him to the master bedroom, but soon enough he’s successfully laid you on top of the large bed.

As soon as your body hit the mattress, you felt weightless, almost as if you were floating in the clouds. Nothing hurt and nothing mattered, it felt kind of good, suppose that’s why some people abused certain drugs. It wasn’t until you felt a pair of rough hands running up the length of your thighs, dangerously close to the hem of your dress.

“What?” You speak out ever so confused, hands coming down on his wrists to stop him from traveling further up.

“Relax, babe,” Lee says as tender as he could be, your hands weakening their hold, “I just want you to feel comfortable in your own bed.” He was crossing a line and had you been able to think clearly, you’d have kicked him out, but Lee didn’t even entertain that possibility at all. What were you going to do? Call the cops? He was the law. No one would believe you.

“I-I,” you stutter profusely, “I don’t think you should be...doing that,” you manage to say, his hands long gone under your dress, grabbing the sides of your hips, hands full of your flesh. You weren’t going to lie, it felt nice to be touched again, but as soon as Lee started to lean in, your legs bent up to block him, your body still playing in defense over him. His hands reemerge from your dress and settle themselves on top of your knees.

“Lee, I-,” all words disappear from you, you can’t seem to find them or the strength to enforce them, especially when he parts your legs, climbing into bed with you, he maneuvers his body to settle in between, and he’s careful to not crush you with his weight.

“What is it, baby?” He asks, then tests the waters by planting featherweight kisses on the skin of your exposed cleavage that’d been teasing him all night, “What do you want?” Each kiss burns, but the substances flowing through your veins turns it into sheer pleasure that you start to lust for more.

His lips make their path up the column of your neck, until their ghosting right above yours. Your breaths mingled with one another, eyes staring at the small gap between your lips. Your mouth opens and you try to speak, but nothing comes out. Lee however takes the initiative and closes the space, his tongue wasting no time delving right in.

When the muscle makes contact with yours, you’re not sure what to do at first. A part of you wanted to voice out that you’d wanted him to kiss you, relieve you of the frustration, and the other part wanted to demand he get off. You were always faithful to your husband, the initial shock needed to pass by first.

Lee notices your frozen state, and coaxes against your lips, “don’t fight it, baby,” his hands wander and explore all the fields of your body, “you deserve to feel good...I can make you feel good...better than he ever could.”

Your head starts to turn to the side, your willpower isn't going down yet still putting up a fight against this act of sin, but their efforts fail as he forcibly grips you by the chin, directing you back to his lips. The kiss is sloppy on his part as you’d still manage to not reciprocate his affections.

“You’re allowed to feel good, doll,” and by some unexplained phenomena, it was as if his words gave you the push, the permission, to give in to temptation.

When he’s sure you’re locked in place, he lets his hand loose to grope at and knead your breasts through the material of your dress. Your lips started to relax and move against his. His handy work causes you to sigh through your nose and it encourages him to slide the straps down your shoulder, pull at the top of your dress, and yank at your bra, allowing your breasts to spill out.

The skin-to-skin contact causes an abrupt jolt to course through you as you involuntarily arch up into his body. Your sensitive nipples rolling in between the pads of his fingertips, causes your breathing to hitch. Lee tears his lips away from yours to take a gander at your exposed top half, and he audibly swears at the very sight. That son of bitch husband of yours, keeping you housed practically all day, away from anyone. He can’t entirely blame him there, he’d want no one to get any ideas of you behind closed doors either. At least they could agree on one thing - you.

Breathless, you start tugging at the end of his tie, desperate to feel his lips back on yours, and he doesn’t disappoint, going in for a bruising kiss. Your hands unwittingly start undoing the knot at the front of his neck, unbutton the top of his shirt, but he stops them, and pins them at the sides of your head. He was going to leave his clothes on for now, not sure if you’d be turned off by him - drugged or not.

You let out a whine and stare up at him with big, pleading eyes. The smirk on his lips, makes your stomach flip. You were losing this battle. You sealed your fate, there was no coming back from this now.

Lee ruts his hips forward, the rough material of his pants scraping against your delicate under garment, and you let out a guttural moan, his hard on evident and poking at you the more he does it because he loves each and every sound that escapes you.

He lets go of one of your hands and revisits an earlier task, slipping back underneath your dress. His fingers push aside the slit of your panties, enough to let him run his fingers through your unashamed wet folds. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t control the itch anymore. Lee hisses lightly, the effect he had on you all too evident.

His ministrations are slow and calculated, running his fingers up and down, your arousal coating his digits, rubbing small circles at the nub, and just right at the entrance. You inhale sharply when he slips a finger in, your hand still cuffed by his other, the intrusion causes your fingers to curl around his wrist, your nails slightly puncture his skin. You’d only been with your husband, and the comparison between him and Lee were indisputable.

He drags his finger back out before digging in again, this time almost knuckle deep. You bite your lip and stare back at his eyes that have turned dark, almost black, full of desire. He’s all but enamored by every bit of reaction he pulls out of you. He’s judging by the looks of it, your husband didn’t think out of the box, wasn’t exciting enough. What a bore, he thought. A woman like you, deserved to feel all sorts of pleasure. And you felt incredibly tight around his digit alone, he could hardly wait to bury his cock inside you.

“That feels good, huh, baby?” He pretends to ask, but he knows it does. It’s written all over you, you’re breathing deeper, eyes closed, intensified by ecstasy just running through you. Nonetheless, you nod in response, and it turns him on even more at how obedient you are.

“You want to feel more?” He tempts you. Your eyes flutter open and look at him again, faces close once more, the tip of his nose nudging your own. Growing impatient with your answer, without warning he curls his finger inside and lightly scratches at your walls.

“Yes, yes!” You say, stunned by the sudden trick, but also loving it.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, right before reclaiming your lips with his. Your complete and utter mush underneath him, his kiss sends your mind in a frenzy. Your hands fisting at his short hair, any trace of inhibition completely leaves your body.

He pulls you into an upright position, lips never parting only for the brief seconds when he pulls your rumpled dress over your head. Your bra casted aside, hanging on the edge of the bed, closest to your husband’s side as if to mock him.

You attempt to untuck his shirt, pulling roughly at the material, Lee laughs at your eagerness. It’s all but muffled as your other hand, at the nape of his neck, pulls him impossibly closer to you, lips moving feverishly on his. The faint stubble on his face burning the corner of your lips and jaw, a sharp contrast between your husband, who kept a clean-shaven face.

Lee parallels your legs to easily pull your panties down, then gets between them once more before pushing you to back down on the bed. You lie there, watching him hovering over you, your eyes travel down his large body and are mesmerized on his hands working to unbuckle his pants. He leans into you again, and kicks his pants off, the thud of the metal belt clanking on the bedroom door serves as an indicator.

You daringly, sneak your hands down south and grip his hard cock through his boxers, catching Lee off guard. Your heart pounded heavily in your ears, all you could hear was the sound of blood rushing as you felt, firsthand, at what you’d be dealing with tonight. It only increased your appetite and sexual curiosity.

Palming him, you start to gauge at the length and girth, but you didn’t want to leave the rest of the imagination, so you reach in and pull his member out, the tip already leaking with pre-cum, staining your palms. He bucks into your hands and you both let out sighs of pleasure when you start rubbing the bulbous head of his cock on your soaking cunt.

Lee swats your hands away, wanting to be in control again. He rids himself of his boxers, tosses the end of his tie over his shoulder and on his back, and picks up the flaps of his police shirt. He does all this to give you both a clear view of his cock as he slowly sinks into your wet channel.

As soon as he disappears inside, so deep you feel the underside of his clothed belly against your lower body, Lee looks up at you, desperate to see your expression, getting off at how good he made you feel. Your head thrown back, lost between the fluffy pillow you were resting on, mouth hung wide out. He was so much bigger, and Lee knew then that he won in at least one other aspect of their little battles.

You gripped him like a vice, your body not used to this kind of intrusion. He moved in-and-out slowly, the tear from each stretch of his thick cock gradually became less painful. Lee studies your facial features, waiting patiently as the creases between your eyebrows start to disappear, and your breathing turns from choking on air to puff sighs and breathy moans.

Your thighs start to loosen and the walls that grip around his hard member relaxes, your eyes peer open again and get a glimpse of the work. You start whimpering at how just as good it looked than it felt. Lee snaps his hips hard the next time, now that the worst part has passed.

As much as he’d rather plow you deep into the mattress at a fast pace, he also wanted to savor the feeling of your warm walls, squeezing him just right for as long as he could last. Who knows when he’d be able to get you alone again? Maybe he should stop by more when Mr. Perfect was out on another business trip.

His thrusts back in are long and hard, a strangled noise escaping you each time, only fuels him. He picks himself up, resting his body weight on his knees, he hooks his arms underneath your legs and pulls your body upwards, your ass resting on top of his thighs. You grip at the bedsheets, a corner popping off, as the new position allows his cock to probe at different areas inside you. It didn’t take long for you to convulse around him, wrecked with euphoria from the orgasm.

Your legs falling slack in his arms when you come down slow. It was apparent, you hadn’t had it that good in a while or Lee would peg, ever, just convinced he was a better lover in bed than your husband. He was wrong before; you could have it so much better with him. Lee reaches over to caress your face, skin hot and cheeks flushed, but the touch provides a sense of comfort and tenderness.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says blown away by the sight of you overcome with pleasure, and spread open, completely bare for him. His eyes scanning your body from your head to where you both were connected.

That’s when he notices it. His hand travels down and braces itself on top of your belly, right where his dick poked, feeling the slight bulge. The mere thought of you swollen riled him up. If you wanted a baby, he’d give you one. You didn’t need to ask if he was ready or not, he’d give you however many you desired.

“You want to be a mommy so bad, dontchu?” his voice all gruff and thrusts picking up speed, “I’ll give you a baby,” he promises and continues to pound into you, tenderness a thing in the past. It was now all about his climax and living up to his new promise.

“Huh?” you question, a sense of knowing creeping back in when he says this, “no, no, please don’t,” you start begging, legs trying to kick him off before he cums inside, “Lee,” your pleading hopeless and futile against him as his hips ram into yours forcibly, no doubt you’d be incredibly sore in the morning at the sudden roughness. It gave him a thrill to fuck you in the same place where you and your husband slept.

His lips litter wet kisses all over your exposed neck, you pay no attention to it as the tears stream down the corner of your eyes, burn your ears, and you’re exactly what you hoped to not appear as, completely helpless. The death grip he has around your waist holds you still long enough for your body to absorb every drop of his seed. You hadn’t realized your hands were braced against his sweaty shirt as if to attempt to push him off, but he was much stronger than you, they formed into clutching onto handfuls of the material instead as you felt his load shoot into your womb.

For a few minutes, Lee stays put, still inside of you, trying to remember how you feel around him. He filled you to the brim, as some of the mixed juices pooled around the base. Lee lets out a low groan, as your walls involuntarily contract around him, like you’re trying to suck him back in as he slowly pulls out.

He collapses on your husband’s side of the bed, but just before he does, he reaches down at his discarded pants on the floor for the carton of cigarettes in one of the pockets, the lighter in the other. When he’s back in a reclining position, a few drags in, he looks over the opposite of him, and studies you.

Your body shining with a thin layer of sweat, hair matted and stuck on parts of your face, your breathing had seemed to regulate once more. It might as well appear that you were sleeping and not recovering from a good fucking.

“You still with me, doll?” He asks for safe measure before lightly tapping the sides of your face. When you make no protest or movement at all, he mentally applauds himself for a job well done. You’d sleep through the night and he’d be long gone before your husband returned.

By now, the rain had since died down, roads were safe for driving, and well into the late-night hours. Lee finished his cigarette and decided it was time to tidy up and make his exit. He’d set the scene as if you’d been drinking alone tonight. He carefully slipped your clothes back on, tenderly wiped you, and even cleaned the glass you were drinking from earlier, to rid of any traces of sludge, in the kitchen sink. He did everything to make sure there were no holes in this plan.

Before Lee leaves you, he stares at your sleeping fame. So sweet, he says to himself, while tracing the outline of your lips with his finger then leaning down to feel them soft against his for one final taste.

The next morning you hear your name being called out repeatedly, and even with the slight pounding ache on the side of your head and remaining grogginess, you recognize the voice to be of your husband’s. He was back, and you regrettably attempt to sit up to welcome him home with loving arms, but the sudden and quick movements only increase the drumming in your head.

“Whoa, take it easy, babe,” he says, gently resting his arms on yours and pushing you back down on the bed, “looks like you had a long night,” he comments.

“What?” You ask why he’d think that. You don’t remember much of last night other than him cancelling on your wedding anniversary...and the very vivid dream you had about Lee Bodecker. Yeah, too vivid it made your stomach flip, but also it felt all too real except it couldn’t be. You’d never sleep with another and break your vow and he was a married man.

He figured you’d have trouble remembering, but he explains that he found the opened bottle of wine, you’d saved for the both of you, the stained glass next to it on the coffee table, and you passed out in bed still in your dress. It was then you noticed you were still in last night’s attire, so any wild thoughts that crossed your mind earlier of infidelity were scratched out.

“I thought something was wrong,” he expresses worriedly.

“Why would there be anything wrong?” You ask now confused. Despite the dull ache in your lower region, you were in the safety of your home, and you didn’t have a history of drinking heavily before, so last night was just a fluke.

He starts informing you of how your kind and elderly neighbor had noticed a sheriff’s vehicle parked in front of your house for a few hours, “…said she’d gotten worried something had happened to you when she saw the car...” he pauses, a hint of annoyance on his face at his next words, “...but said once she saw Lee step out, she knew you’d be safe, and well, I can’t disagree with her on that. Lee would never let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t even pay attention to his last few words, too caught up when he revealed Lee was in fact here last night. The idling, dull ache now suddenly growing, and you do your best to swallow down the small bile rising in your throat at the revelation that confirmed your suspicions. The dream you had about Lee couldn’t have been a dream, but reality. Not only had you committed adultery, you were ashamed of the heat between your legs at the flashback of how good he made you feel.

You knew you’d never consent to such a thing. Was this a case of sexual assault? And could it be classified as one if you were just as willing? It confused you greatly, not wanting to believe Lee manipulated you to having sex with him. You couldn’t recall any part of how it began, where he had done something wrong other than also cheating on his wife. Oh, poor Florence, you thought to yourself and it only added to the headache.

“I guess I owe him some form of gratitude for making sure you’re okay,” he says reluctantly, almost a little pained and forced, “oh honey, don’t strain yourself,” he advises, nursing your obvious hangover.

He’d mistaken the look of sheer horror and internal heartache for illness. Like the doting husband he was, he helped you slip into something comfortable and less restricting before heading into the kitchen to fix you up something light to eat.

As you laid there in the tainted bed, you prayed for forgiveness. You lived your life carefully and to your best ability, morally, how could this have plagued you? Was there an appropriate way to confess your infidelity to your husband? He wouldn’t tolerate it, you knew that much, and you wouldn’t blame him for leaving you.

The thought of a life without him scared you, but not as much as the possibility of a life that wasn’t a product of your love growing inside of you.

A/N: Yeah, I don’t even know. I’ve been reading a couple of Lee Bodecker fics and I was tempted. Thanks for reading! Please give this a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed!

#mrwinterr writes #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #tdatt fic #tdatt imagine #the devil all the time

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