#since i think there are a number of women that are loved by the series and oda does actually give women diverse body types

[every-sanji]

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— AN INTRODUCTION TO CREATIVE CAPTIVITY

SUMMARY : dean wants to know more about you and takes matters into his own hands when you don’t show up at his bakery. unreasonably, he doesn’t expect you to come back home early, but his mission was mostly successful.

PAIRING : vampire!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none 

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), baker!dean, stalking (it’s only hot if dean does it), angst, unhealthy obsession, yandere!Dean, possessiveness, soft Dean, implied panty kink, creepiness escalates, nerdy reader, reader isn’t perfect, (vague) chronic illness, voyeurism, b&e, stealing, slow chapter, and more to come

WORD COUNT : 6.6k

A/N : this chapter will lead up to the square stockholm syndrome on my @jacklesversebingo card. no baking :’(. heheh, Dean’s a lot softer and way more caring than the typical psycho-yandere type maybe some of yall were thinking of. I did research on yandere types and yandere traits, and found that it’s completely acceptable! in fact, a soft yandere is preferred, LOL. xx

Over the years Dean found that the perks of being undead included not having to sleep. That meant there were no nightmares to haunt him.. and now, that he had all the time in the world to watch you, to research you, first.

You were a fluffy cloud of love that became his companion through the sleepless, endless night. He knew seeing you again would feel like an eternity had passed, so he indulged in thoughts of you to keep him company.

He was home now and he had nothing to do as the moon bled through the windows of the place he “lived” in. He laid in his bed, unable to shut his brain off for the pretence of a peaceful sleep that he enjoyed doing routinely ever since he was a… vampire. 

His four hours of nothingness. 

He had too much time on his hands. 

He’d already read over a thousand books, watched over a thousand films and series, scrolled through the endless stream of videos on social media, and attempted to get good at hundreds of hobbies. What was the point of it anymore, after all?

Now, he thought of you. And that was the only point that made any sense to him. The only thing that mattered in his useless life. The only reason why he even wanted the sun to rise and bring another day. 

If it meant that he was able to see you again. To know everything about your existence. Then, it all mattered. The world needed to keep spinning and the world needed to be safe, for you. 

He took his phone from the nightstand and appreciated the wallpaper of his beautiful Impala. He was uncomfortably restless. He wanted to keep thinking of you, but he also wanted to shut his brain off. He couldn’t creep you out, it would ruin everything. He stared at the numbers telling the time, 1:24 AM. 

You were probably asleep by now. 

He wondered about you again. What position did you sleep in? What colour were your sheets? What was the texture of them? Did you use multiple blankets? Were you cold, often? Were your hands and feet always the only thing that was cold? Did you not suffer that way at all? Did you wear socks to sleep? What was the temperature of your home? Did you wear baggy clothes to sleep? Or something sexy? Or something cute? What was the colour of your walls? How did you decorate your home? Was it fun? Minimalistic? Did your house already smell like you again?

He cared so much about every tiny detail of your life and the place you called home. He itched to just get out of bed and find where you lived to see for himself. 

But for now, he lifted himself up slightly to rest against the headboard of his bed and unlocked his phone to find you wherever he could. He felt embarrassed to do so, but he searched your name on every app, including the dating ones he never removed despite being… Well, he hadn’t had sex since he became a vampire. He was terrified of anything bad happening to the women he slept with. 

The thought made him freeze. Would he lose control with you? Would he ever hurt you? His mind overflowed with images of your blood and him standing above you. He would die before he ever hurt you. He shook the thoughts away, remembering Lenore, and the handful of monsters that coexisted peacefully with humans. 

He could be with you. You could be his. 

You were all he could think about. It’s a shock that he hadn’t shoved his hands in his pants and pleasured himself just thinking of you. He would have, but he felt it would be disrespectful to you. 

He did try to relieve himself with those sexy vampire women in the past, but he just didn’t feel any sort of attraction towards them because so few of them even cared about humans. It was unbecoming. They were arrogant, indifferent, and it wasn’t even sexy. He just couldn’t get it “up” with bloodsuckers. So, what? He was still prejudiced and all that. Whatever, he spent most of his time as a vampire still hunting. 

He killed the entire nest and hunted down anyone that managed to slip through his fingers. He tried his hardest to keep being a hunter, with Sam’s brain protected with a wall, he had hope, a reason to keep going. But that was all gone, his family was gone: Sam, Cas. 

When word spread that he was a vampire, and it did—like a nuclear bomb—the fallout was massive. Somehow, the fear of the Winchesters was hundred-fold, even though, in all his time as a vampire, Dean hadn’t slipped up even once. 

He didn’t know how he did it. 

He really just did. 

He remembered the devouring thirst of being around humans when he was in the process of turning, while he looked for the leech that bled into his mouth for the cure Samuel and Sam were waiting to have confirmed. He could smell every human’s blood, taste the delicious quench of it in the air, and he somehow walked straight past every one. And when that one vamp opened the fridge to feed him a pick-me-up, the scent of it was overpowering, but never quite enough for his stubborn ass.

He declined and carried on with the mission, but the world had other plans for him. When he found the guy that turned him, of course he knew that Dean hadn’t fully turned; he was the leader of the nest, after all. He was smart and didn’t let Dean make any move unless he drained one of the women he didn’t find useful for the nest. 

He refused but the leader of the nest didn’t take no for an answer, and once again, forced Dean to feed on one of the women in the cages. Dean remembered that way it felt, the taste of warm blood soothing the aching dryness in his throat. Dean had planned on biting the poor girl for show and collecting the blood in his mouth to spit it out later, but once it touched his tongue, the bloodlust took over.

He didn’t know what possessed him to stop. Maybe the way the girl whimpered, because she was just a girl. Or the way she pleaded for him to stop with her weak, cracked voice. The way her body slowly sank into him and crumbled limply, but he somehow managed to push her away from him.

She thanked him, even though she was still stuck being a blood bag for the nest. Dean felt guilty, even by just remembering how it all started. His soulless brother, his idiot best friend. How was anyone supposed to know how to handle that situation? 

Dean grieved his human life. Having to abandon Lisa and Ben on top of it all. Then, his brother’s life. And finally, his best friend’s life. 

Sure, Cas was the one who made the mess to begin with, but what was the point of friendship if you couldn’t forgive them for the worst of the worst? Obviously, there was a line, but with the type of life they lived, what Cas had done didn’t cross the line. After all, Cas tried to make amends, even if it was too late. 

Dean could stay mad forever at Cas, but he was going to be ancient some day. What purpose would that hatred serve when everyone was dead? Forgiveness was all he had left to remind him he still had some semblance of humanity.

And right now, he needed to feel human. For you. 

He was more relieved than he cared to admit when he didn’t find you on any dating apps. So, he deleted every single one after he got the answers he was hoping to not find there. 

He hated that your Facebook was more dead than he was. You didn’t have your relationship status updated or your birthday published. There was nothing, just an old photo of you at some Korean restaurant. And even your family members’ accounts were as dry as his throat felt after going days without feeding. They revealed nothing, but he did find your friends: Bela Levante and Daphne Jordan.

But there was hardly anything to see about you on their profiles. God, woman, why did you have to hide yourself so hard?

He carefully scrolled through Instagram and groaned at another obstacle. Your account was private. He wished to stare at photos of you. The numbers on your profile teased him, he could see the amount of followers you had, the number of people you were following, and fuck… 43 posts he could be gazing at like a celebrity’s fanboy. 

He wanted to see everything “private” about your life, your hobbies, flashes, glimpses of your life, pets—if you had any, and everything about your family. All the little things that would have slowly painted you on the empty canvas in his mind. 

Dean shut his phone off with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling being illuminated with the moonlight, creating shadows from the tree that creaked outside by the window. 

How was he supposed to feel about you? What was he supposed to do to get closer to you? Would you see him again the next morning? Or anytime after that? Would he see you in days? Weeks?

Would you think of him at all? Or would you be too busy with your life to do so? Did you even want to see him again? Did you feel the pull he felt towards you? Was he being delusional to think that there could possibly be something between you and him?

He’d have to take matters into his own hands if you prolonged appearing in his life. If he got dozens of women to like him before, there’s no reason why you wouldn’t want him in the same way. He just needed to play his cards right. 

5 Days Later

Coming into your life was more difficult than Dean anticipated.

He went out more than he would have wanted, hoping to find you anywhere in town. So, you weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t be available for the first couple of days or weeks in town as you tried to settle in. He hoped it was just something you said to avoid Andy.

At least he knew you weren’t lying about that. 

He only saw you once three days ago at the grocery store. He watched you as subtly as he could, his eyes focused on your every move, his ears sharpened to your voice, every atom in his body was attuned to you, his nexus. 

He wished he was standing there next to you, as your boyfriend, a lover, a partner, whatever. As long as you were only his. So he could watch your cute faces when you touched something that you didn’t like, or be there to laugh with you when you giggled at something you saw, or to be there to remind you of something you forgot and had to pull up the list on your phone. He wanted to know what it was like to have another conversation with you, about anything. Was that asking too much?

He didn’t get everything he’d planned on getting when he got there, but at least he had your plates and the car you drove. He wished he was brave enough to have talked to you, to pretend to bump into you. Although it wouldn’t have been much of an act, he really hadn’t expected to see you there.

But there was something raw and real about watching you while you were alone, and in your head as you walked through the most-likely unfamiliar grocery shop. When was the last time you stepped foot in there? You stared at the signs above each aisle with surprise when you’d walk in and didn’t find what you probably would have years ago. 

He made his way to his car and thought of all the ways he could get you to be his. In any way that he could have you. All his ruminations and all his time was devoted to the goal of being with you. So much so that he felt like his entire life was on hold.

He knew it would start up again as soon as you entered his life. However, he hadn’t seen you—well, he hadn’t spoken to you in five days, and he wanted to respect you by letting you have your own space, but it was getting painful for him to be away from you for so long.

He waited to hear the beat of your heart or the sound of your voice being carried through the air and into his bakery, but he was only met with disappointment. Every time the door opened, he wished it was you walking in, he wished it was you smiling and flirting with him like every woman he regularly saw.

But you never showed up. 

Did he make you up in his imagination? Was he that desperate to feel something? Were you real and simply uninterested in him? That thought hurt more than it should have. He thought he’d left a good impression on you, and after you left that hundred dollar bill, his mind didn’t allow him to believe you hated him. In fact, it was the only proof that you were real after all. 

Why couldn’t you be as infatuated with him as he was with you? Why couldn’t you be as interested in him as the women who carved out time for him in their busy lives? 

You were impossible to get close to. His fingertips barely tapped the surface of your life and like a fish, you swam quickly in the opposite direction to evade being captured by him. But didn’t you see you’d be better off with him? Happier? Freer? More loved than you could fathom? More loved than you could ever be with anyone else? More loved than you have ever been loved?

You were on his mind every moment of every day since he met you. Was he nothing to you? How would you feel knowing that everything new he baked was because you had inspired him in his daydreams. He wished he could ask you how it tasted, what you liked, if he should make more of whatever new invention he had created. If he should add it to the menu. He’d make them all again for you to try them and give him these insights and suggestions. 

Mostly, he needed to know more about you. He just couldn’t bear the thought of you being a mystery. Or the fact that you’d never let him into your life to know the things that you inhibited within the safety of your home. Would the things in your house reveal your psyche? That’s all he wanted, to worm his way into you by knowing these things about you. 

Sure, he could be himself, but he needed an advantage first. He needed time with you where it wasn’t obvious he was imposing himself on your life without reason. Where could he accidentally or coincidentally find himself in order to spend time with you? So that it could all fall together perfectly as he has fantasised every waking moment of his existence since he met you.

He could only acquire that information by infiltrating your home. 

Dean didn’t expect this. 

It was all he could think when he tracked down your scent to where you lived—and he relaxed when he didn’t find your car parked in the driveway in front of your home. 

He blinked. 

He was astonished as he gawked at your home. The light of the stunning peach sunset was reflected on the tinted glass that made up the outer walls of your home. Those glass windows, from floor to ceiling, also reflected the breathtaking forest surrounding the area. How convenient that your house was surrounded by thick green trees. 

He stepped closer to your home to the surrounding area, the giant space that was entirely yours. There were a few plants, and despite being grateful about the lack of surveillance, he clicked his tongue in disapproval at the lack of it. 

You needed to be safe. 

He’d have to check out the glass, make sure it was shatter proof and bulletproof—even though there was no reason why your house should be armed against anything like that. He needed to make sure no creeps had made their way to your home, squatters or even people who may be infatuated with you. 

You hypocrite, part of his brain accused. But he huffed, pouting and narrowing his eyes straight ahead at the reflection of himself, scolding his brain for trying to compare him to those who were more selfish and probably more dangerous than him. He pushed the small voice that reminded him that there was nothing scarier or more dangerous than a bloodsucker being around a human. 

Dean pushed every thought away and had to quickly become familiar with the outside of your home before deciding it was safe to enter, to really get to know you. 

Were you going to clean this whole place by yourself? Did you have someone else do it? Did you cook? Or did someone else do that for you, too? He needed to know. How much freedom did he have to be in your home whenever it suited him?

He made his way to the porch and brushed his fingertips against the lock of your door. He may not have had a heart to race at the thought of being where you always were, where you felt safest, but his body still thrummed and tingled with excitement. 

Dean searched his jacket for the pick-set he carried in the inner pocket over his chest. He thought about how he hadn’t picked locks in a while. He didn’t have any reasons to, just the occasional need for it if he caught a case nearby. And ever since he became a vampire, he found that it was easier than before, easier to listen for the clicks of each pin falling as he slowly turned and prodded with his tools. 

He apologised to you under his breath once the door unlocked. 

He shoved the pick-set back into his jacket pocket while standing at the entrance of your home, and deeply inhaled the scent of you rushing outwards to greet him. Yes.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, surprised by the emptiness and the smell of newness that mingled with your sweet aroma. 

You were still way behind on unpacking. 

He found a shoe rack by the entrance and decided to respect your house rules by kicking off his boots and placing them neatly into an empty spot. So, that’s what it would look like if this were his home, too? His shoes, right next to yours. It looked right.

He curled his toes inside his socks, feeling the cool floor against his already cold skin and smiled. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up at the coat rack, making himself at home. He could pretend for a few hours that this was how it always was.

He stepped deeper into your home, looked around and deflated. 

There wasn’t much to explore. Most rooms he walked into were empty, or they had boxes that had yet to be opened by you. Maybe it would scare you if he tried to help by taking everything out, so he left the boxes as you had them. 

Why hadn’t you made yourself at home? It’s been days and you haven't really done much. Was this just part of your indifference or was this because of the secret illness you had? Were you that busy with work? You were pretty vague about it when you were talking to Andy. 

For now, Dean sighed, he knew nothing. 

There was no indication of what was to be your living room. No furniture, no television, no tables. Unless he opened the boxes to peek inside and find out what each room would be, he would have to wait until you got to it yourself. 

At least your kitchen was easy to explore. Though most of the cabinets were empty. Only three glasses, four plates, two bowls… God, woman. Should he get you some things? He shook his head and quickly pulled open every door and drawer to peek inside the completely uninteresting contents. 

But finally, he got to your pantry. You had lots of snacks. Dean chuckled at the type of organisation that you had put them in. By colour. He smiled and reached out to touch them. He missed being hungry for this type of stuff, not that it stopped him from indulging in it every now and then anyway. 

His brain nagged him: Which ones were your favourite? Well, he had to guess that they were all your favourite to some extent. But maybe it was the Rice Krispies, they were nearly all gone. There were some spicy peanuts, too, and some other spicy, but still sweet, Mexican candies he had tried before—some, he hadn’t tried at all. 

His mouth would have watered if he were still alive. 

He snorted, moved on to read each package and box; he needed to try whatever he hadn’t already tried before, just to see if he could have that in common with you.

He didn't have to, but he wanted to be able to say: I have tried it before. At least. Maybe that would mean something to you, maybe it would matter. On the other hand, he already had a lot in common with you—in terms of preference for snacks. He liked your taste. 

He shut the pantry door and opened your fridge.

He pulled out the freezer and lifted a brow at the lack of contents. No frozen, microwaveable food. Just vanilla ice cream, some shrimp, salmon, halibut, and steak. That’s it? He frowned. Did you rarely eat at home or did you already cook whatever else could’ve filled your refrigerator? Maybe he was overthinking it; you looked healthy when he met you and when he saw you at the grocery. But looks could be deceiving—you were sick after all, and he had yet to find out what you had. 

Is that why you became a geneticist? Was your disease genetic?

He closed the freezer and opened the horizontal middle door. He found two bottles of mineral water, four bottles of water, and one can of Sprite. Was there any point to the giant refrigerator if you hardly used it? He snickered. 

After he finished checking out the kitchen—and after washing a bowl with traces of Greek yoghurt, honey, and oats and the spoon you’d used—he began making his way to the next room, trying to find more information about you.

He made a mental note of the softener and detergent you used for laundry and all the other cleaning materials you kept in the laundry room. He checked out the washing machine and dryer to make sure they worked properly—so you wouldn’t have to struggle. 

He frowned the whole time. He wouldn’t be bumping into you at the laundromat, that was slightly disappointing to think about. 

He made his way upstairs, giddy to find your bedroom once he got to the top of the stairs. He held his breath in anticipation after opening each door down the long hallway, always to an empty room, but he exhaled when finally found your room.

Your scent embraced him when he opened your bedroom door. Now, he’d definitely find out things about you that were much more interesting. Much more intimate. 

He was thorough with his search. 

He checked out every item on your shelves and your desk, your figurines and other collectibles. He took a picture of your bookcase to become familiar with your books the next time he visited the library. He opened each drawer and your dresser to review the contents thoroughly, your clothes and keepsakes and trinkets hidden beneath—and stole a pair of your underwear as he bit his lip; he knew it was wrong. 

He made sure to steal your pink lace underwear that didn’t match with a bra you owned. He easily discovered which bras weren’t part of a set and memorised your cup size. You chose comfort over sexiness—even the sexy lace you owned looked comfortable. You were so cute. 

He turned to your closet and examined every article of clothing—which was organised by colour as well. From sexy to cute dresses, old and new t-shirts, sexy and cute cropped shirts, and so much more he wanted to see you wear for himself. He found a few of your scrubs and imagined the way they’d hug your curves, even if they were hidden below a lab coat. You were so sexy. So fucking hot, he couldn’t believe he was touching the things you’d wear at some point.

He went through your shoes to memorise your foot size, but made a mental note of your favourite type of footwear. 

He closed the door and looked over your vanity desk and the limited amount of makeup. Mostly, you had hair products. Gel to enhance the volume, different brushes for different uses, a multi-use hair dryer or something like that, cute hair ties and hair clips and a small bundle of what he’d label as boring; they were just brown, black, and tan hair ties. 

He slipped a brown hair tie onto his wrist—one that was loose from usage. He pocketed the mini-lotion bottle that was half-empty—a miniature version of the larger bottle you owned. And after peaking through your extensive jewellery collection, he stole a thin silver necklace with a cute little charm. 

He searched your nightstand, glanced at your cute lamp, a small mirror, a water bottle and a pill bottle. At the sight of the orange container containing a month’s worth of medication, he instantly picked it up and snapped a quick picture of the name to do research later. He wanted to look out for you. 

He opened your password-locked laptop and the tablet beneath. He wouldn’t be getting into those anytime soon. He had no idea what your password could be or what set of numbers mattered to you. It was frustrating. 

He opened the single drawer and pursed his lips—amused. God, you were so naughty. But you did live alone, why would you hide it? It's not like you knew he’d be inspecting every object you owned. 

Dean leered at each sex toy with a smirk and imagined—the fact that you probably used them more than once fueled his daydreams—the way you’d pleasure yourself with them. How many times could you come? Which toy was your favourite? Who did you fantasise about when you were in the midst of immense pleasure? He hoped it was someone unattainable or fictional. 

His hand twitched at the metal handle he’d pulled to open up the drawer. He was tempted to touch and kiss each toy that had at some point touched the depths and outer skin of your sweet pussy. But he exhaled shakily and closed the weakly concealed Pandora’s Box to move on with his investigation of your life. 

He checked the bottom space of your nightstand, open to the world. He found an extensive collection of sticker sheets and sticker books, empty A6 notebooks, one that was full, and another that was halfway worked through. He pulled the two of them out, but turned his attention to your bed. 

His mind inquired things he simply couldn’t figure out without you telling him. Did you pleasure yourself here? Do you ever pleasure yourself on the chair of your writing desk? Or the backless seat of your vanity desk? Did you plan on doing it downstairs on a couch you’d set up in the future? 

He slid his hand down the soft cotton sheets of your bed and picked up one of your silk pillows, accidentally knocking off a weighted dinosaur and a tiny shark the size of his palm that rested on its back. The other small stuffed animals remained undisturbed as he lifted your pillow to his face and inhaled slowly, deeply the scent of your shampoo, softener, and detergent. 

He sighed softly, eyes closed. You smelled so good, he could probably bite you if you let him. He’d never want to purposely hurt you. He just needed to feel you. 

He pulled your pillow away from his lips and nose to fix it back in place along with your woolly companions and blindly set down the two books he’d begin reading once he was done with his exploration. 

Was this the same bed and the same sheets you’d slept in when you were a teenager? Were you as horny as he was at that age? Did you sleep with anyone at any point in your life—on these very sheets? Were they new? New as in bought here once you moved in? Were these the ones you used when you left home to go to university?

Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of that. 

He stomped away to your bathroom and rifled through over-the-counter medication behind the mirror—allergy pills, Benadryl cream, ibuprofen. He found your pink with green toothbrush, your toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash. He quickly glanced at the shrinking bar of honey-coloured soap by the sink inside a small bowl.

He rubbed his fingers against the beige hand towel and then your olive-coloured towel by the shower door. He inspected the scent and brand of your shampoo, body wash, face washes, and conditioner.

Why was he so drawn to learn all these things about you? He never cared about any of these things before. Sure, to some extent he tried to learn stuff about Cassie and Lisa, but never like this. Why couldn’t he take it slowly? Couldn’t he be normal about you? You were just a woman. Just a woman who made every withering seed suddenly bloom in his desiccated heart and desolate soul. Of course he’d turn to you, like a sunflower turning toward the Sun. It was his destiny, one he wouldn’t dream of fighting. 

He returned to your bedroom and slowly plopped down on your bed. He smiled instantly, swallowed by your soft mattress, and laid down on your pillows with your notebooks in his lap. He lifted the one that was full and became wrapped up in the story of your life.

He was only partially disappointed that you’d only begun writing a year before. He only knew about that and still nothing of your past. Only through subtext and vague statements could he decipher events of your past life. And every now and then, something would bring up the past and that’s how he discovered small details about you. 

Inside your half-filled journal, he found your work schedule. 

“Residency,” he mumbled and glared at the extensive, ridiculous hours listed for you to work. No wonder he hardly ever saw you. No wonder you were so behind on unpacking. 

Dean’s ears perked up when he heard rocks and dirt crunching beneath tires. His heart would have stopped if it were beating and his blood would’ve run cold if it still ran through his body. He was instantly at the window of your bedroom watching you drive towards the house.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean muttered, watching as your car pulled up into the driveway. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” He scurried to shove your books back into place before legging it downstairs to retrieve his jacket and shoes and panicked momentarily. He wasn’t ready to leave yet! 

Did he touch anything else? Did he move something he wasn’t supposed to? He was so enthralled with his expedition around your home that he’d completely blanked out anything he should’ve been mindful of. 

He made his way back upstairs and quickly threw his shoes and jacket into the farthest empty room down the hall. There’s no reason you’d check out every room. Were you paranoid? Wait, he hadn’t accounted for this. Damn it, he was way in over his head.

It was too late. You were already making your way up to your porch. Dean could hear your quiet sigh, the sleepiness of it made him feel warm—at least the illusion of it. 

He quickly rid the bed of the form his body had made atop your sheets by pulling carefully at the edges and smoothing his hand over the wrinkles that remained until your bed looked untouched once more. 

Dean’s ears perked up at the sound of your car keys and your shoes being kicked off carelessly. Dean was suddenly excited to see what you wore. So, we should hide? his mind questioned. We? Dean scowled and looked around before picking the cliché of all hiding places: the closet. 

It felt like an eternity before you began to make your way upstairs. 

Much to Dean’s dismay, you’d discarded your lab coat at the coat rack, so he wouldn’t be fulfilling his fantasy tonight. But he could hear the material of your scrubs brush against itself as you shuffled lazily up the stairs and into the hallway leading up to your bedroom. 

Your door creaked open, you stretched, and then began to push your pants down your legs. Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward to gently prod the closet door open enough to watch your black scrubs get pushed down your bare legs.

You kicked them off along with your socks and left them on the floor to lift your shirt up. Beneath it, you wore a grey thermal shirt. Dean watched, his mouth parched suddenly as your body stretched upwards, just in your violet coloured underwear.

He bit his lip to stop himself from saying something under his breath about how sexy you were. He couldn’t risk you somehow hearing him. But soon, you were completely naked.

Dean peered lewdly at your bare body. The way your hair came loose over your shoulders to brush against your warm skin, the shape of your breasts, the way you shivered and your nipples tightened as you collected your clothes to throw it into the hamper. Your proportions and the entire beauty of you captivated him. 

He wanted to fuck you, yes, but he also wanted to know what it felt like to hold the elegant dip of your waist. To know what it felt like for your body to curve up and mould itself into his body when you hugged him. To know how your fingers felt when they were weaved through his, as you had sown yourself into his dead heart to give him the illusion of life, of warmth. 

What did it feel like to cup the back of your head when he kissed you? Or to hold your jaw as he tilted your head for the perfect angle to kiss in? What did your fingers feel like when they skimmed over his cold skin and twisted into his hair when you got lost in the kiss?

What did your mouth taste like if his tongue brushed against yours? What did your plush lips feel like against his? Where would your lips trail off to and how would you kiss him?

Dean was dazed at his vivid fantasy and then you disappeared into the bathroom and he finally ripped himself from the perfect twill of his daydream. Disheartened, he leaned into your clothes, sinking deeper into your closet and briefly relaxed as your soft clothes overwhelmed his senses. 

Dean considered leaving now that you were home. He sort of got what he wanted, information about you. The rest of your house may have been mostly empty, but your bedroom wasn’t. And your bedroom revealed more about you to him than the rest of your home would have.

Still, maybe you’d get on your laptop and he could discern your password. Yeah, that would definitely be ideal. He could stay in the closet. There was nowhere else he could hide and the bottom of the bed was pretty useless. Besides, there was no reason you’d check in here, none at all. 

He waited thirty minutes for you, on his phone looking up what he could about your medication. He learned quickly the side effects, what not to take with your medication, when the best time was to take it. Then moved on to the minuscule list of diseases the medication was used to treat.

He was thrown deep into the research, reminding him of the days when he would have to search things through libraries and files for lore on monsters and to brief himself on the case he’d taken. It wasn’t too different: he wanted to get closer, he wanted to solve you. The only difference was you weren’t dangerous and you were beautiful, and he actually felt motivated to willingly delve further into the rabbit hole that was your life. 

The shower turned off and Dean shut off his phone. 

It wasn’t long before you walked out of the bathroom and Dean moved closer to the closet door, peeking between the small crack as you walked into your bedroom. You were patting your hair dry with a smaller towel and had your back to him. 

You threw the small towel successfully into the hamper and sighed exhaustedly. You were so silent. He wondered if it was only because of the fatigue of your job or if you always wordlessly completed tasks. 

He would only know once you completed your residency. Or if he found you on a day where you didn’t have to work. But he didn’t think you’d have the energy to go out, even on a weekend or vacation, after working such laborious hours.

He continued to watch you expectantly as you made your way to your dresser where your underwear was, he watched you sift through the neatly organised garments before you plucked something out and then your towel came undone slightly.

“Stupid fuck,” you muttered angrily and adjusted it. He grinned at your short temperament, but he wished you’d just let it fall completely so he could see you again. You bent over and looked through your sock drawer, picked a comfortable pair and finally pulled the towel from your body and threw it over to the hamper where it only made itself halfway in. 

Dean bit his lip at the sight of your ass; he traced the long divot of your spine down your back and the curve of your waist with his gluttonous eyes. He mouthed a ‘wow’ and licked his lips as you slid your underwear carefully up your legs.

You picked out a tank top and matching pants from the middle drawers and made your way to your bed with your socks in hand. So you did sleep with socks on. Ankle socks, fluffy loose ones with pink and white patterns. 

You lazily lifted your sheets, your expression more somnolent than he expected. Your feet, covered in clean socks, hid beneath your thick warm sheets. Your whole body was covered and your cheek pressed into the same pillow he’d grabbed. 

He waited as your breathing slowed, faster than he expected, you were out. Your mind shut off, tired from long hours of work. He envied you for a moment and then allowed his affection for you to bloom in his chest as he pushed the closet door open and shut behind him. 

He made his way to you carefully, and watched your peaceful expression. You lips were parted slightly and your breathing was so low and deep that your heart slowed down serenely.

He considered kissing you as you slept, but he’d rather have your consent when you’re awake some day; that’d really show him that you wanted him. 

Instead, he pressed his lips to your jaw, then dragged them hungrily to your quiet, gentle pulse and kissed you there. His lips lingered, promising the blood that would travel to your heart, that one day, it would be all his. 

-> life ain't easy when you're a mythical creature

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[theseeingfawn]

My Elriel Subscription list on AO3

Below are the MANY Eriel fics I am currently subscribed to and DYING for more of…

🌹A Court of Blooming Sight by katkos96

Summary: Post ACOSF and HOFAS Eriel fan fic! This fan fic will try and stay as canon as possible, with theories based off of many lovely creators as well as my own. There may be some head canons involved, as we have not had a book come out yet, but any theories and the minds behind them will be tagged. This is duel-pov between Elain and Azriel!

🌹A Court of Sunlight and Shadows by Ahimadala

Summary: Just when Elain thought she had found balance since her life was turned upside down, someone begins to doubt the true nature of her powers. Koschei threatens the fragile peace that has settled over Prythian with his search for the cauldron. However, its power is now inextricably linked to the one who has been gifted by it.

🌹A Match Baked In Heaven by NikeTheStatue

Summary: Elain Archeron, owner of the prestigious Marigold Agency, which specializes in exclusive matchmaking has a new and very challenging client. Azriel Night, football superstar, 'stubborn as a mule' (according to his brother Cassian), handsome womanizer is under pressure to find himself a wife. At stake--a 230 million inheritance.

🌹A Shot in the Darkest Dark by yourstarsmyscars

Summary: It was always those who understood fate the least who spoke most freely of it, as though the future were a path carved of marble, all roads leading in one direction, and one direction alone.

It was always meant to be this way, they said, never understanding that fate was chaos and not order, madness with no clarity. And fate could be changed, if you knew which strands to pluck.

🌹Chiaroscuro (Series) by Meraki_Moonglade/a>

Summary: A collection of beautifully told stories on the budding relationship between Elain and Azriel.

🌹Cruel Summer by slythrhys

Summary: With a broken heart and a bruised ego, Elain tries to survive a week living alongside Azriel in her family's summer home, where they all gather to celebrate Nesta and Cassian's wedding.

🌹Everywhere, Everything by duskandcobalt

Summary: Two close friends, one crossed line… After a decade of friendship, Elain and Azriel are left to navigate the fallout following an encounter that's far from platonic. or A friends to lovers fic about denial and longing.

🌹Forgotten Bonds by noedovenest

Summary: After the events of ACOSF, Elain is torn between exploring her bond with her mate and her growing affection for Azriel.

🌹Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow by Violetasteracademic

Summary: A week after Solstice, Elain is lost and heartbroken by Azriel's rejection. A surprise encounter with Lucien in the townhouse leads to an offer Elain wasn't expecting, and a readiness to face the future.

🌹High Infidelity by tswaney17

Summary: Elain and Azriel are fuck buddies, nothing more. But when a word slips out in the heat of the moment, their entire relationship comes to a screeching halt.

🌹Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince by yourstarsmyscars

Summary: Fresh off a brutal break-up, Elain is in need of a distraction. A casual fling. One no strings bad idea, with a guy she definitely won't get attached to, so she can finally move on. Azriel has lost count of the number of women who've come to regret meeting him. But while he may be the worst idea Elain has had in a while, he's determined to prove that she won't regret him.

🌹Satin and Steel by airelemental

Summary: Princess/Knight alternate universe. Elain Archeron is on her way to visit her sister, the newly crowned queen of Prythian. With no romantic prospects and a new inheritance of all of her parents' land and most of their wealth, Elain wants nothing more than to lead a quiet life where she's finally in charge of her own destiny.

Upon her arrival, King Rhysand appoints his highest ranking knight, Sir Azriel, as her royal guard and chaperone. She thinks he's a brute and is appalled at the idea of someone following her around everywhere she wishes to go during her stay. He finds her spoiled and can think of a thousand different ways to better spend his time.

🌹Shining Through That Moonless Night by tealeaves_and_rosepetals

Summary: Good intentions went wrong on the night of Solstice, and ever since, Elain and Azriel have struggled through days that felt darker and colder without the joy of the secret love that grew between them. Yet for both of them, a tiny glimmer of hope remains, bright and unyielding.

[sgiandubh]

What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

[highvern]

Track 1: All of the Girls You Loved Before - Taylor Swift

“All of the girls you loved before, Made you the one I've fallen for // Every dead-end street, Led you straight to me”

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: established relationship, past jealousy

Length: ~500

Note: First part of the Mixtape Series! Wooooo! Very fun to write and looking forward to everyone's reactions to the other parts of the series. Stay tuned!

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy!

Mixtape Series: Me & You Masterlist

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

“I’m fine, Cheol.”

Seungcheol taking you out to celebrate your promotion quickly devolved into an awkward dance around the elephant in the room.

One of his exes sat across the room, dining with a man around her age. You recognized her from pictures before you and Seungcheol started dating, when you were barely even friends and neither of you knew how perfect you were for one another.

“Are you sure?”  Seungcheol asks for the nth time, guilt trickling across his face. 

“Of course I’m sure.” You confirm, squeezing his hand wrapped in yours across the table.

Seungcheol heaves a heavy sigh. The last thing he ever wanted was for you to think he would care about someone else. You knew it wholeheartedly. Seungcheol didn’t see anyone beyond you since your first date years ago.

The number of women he’d dated or hooked up with in some capacity had been a tough pill to swallow at the beginning of your relationship. A run in with one of them years ago was the catalyst for the first fight of your budding relationship, leaving you both in limbo at what to do. You hated feeling jealous and insecure because of it but Seungcheol assured you there were no lingering feelings; and he backed his words up with actions that proved he was sincere.

Eventually, you were something close to thankful for your boyfriend’s past partners. Thankful they taught Seungcheol to navigate love; the good, the bad, and the ugly. For helping him mature into the man sat in front of you. Seungcheol, who from day one let you know where you stood, who didn't leave you questioning his intentions, and enthusiastically pursued you in a way you had never experienced before. The one who doesn't take you for granted and still manages to sweep you off your feet after years together. The man who argues with you, not against you when you disagree; constantly reminding you that you're a team and you'll figure it out.

Seungcheol, who lets you baby him as much as you want because his past relationships didn't give him the space to rely on his partner. Who shares his fears and doubts even if it makes him feel vulnerable, knowing you're there for him through everything and he no longer needs to shoulder his burdens alone.

All of the events of his past led you both here. Engaged, happier than you've ever been, with a man who couldn't been more perfect for you.

“If you want to leave we can. I’ll find somewher–” 

“Baby, if I got upset every time we ran into someone you dated, we’d never leave the house.” You joke.

“I didn’t date that many girls!” Seungcheol pouts in a way that’s more than ridiculous for a man his age.

“It doesn’t matter. Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

Leaning forward, you wait until Seungcheol comes close enough to whisper, “Because they led you to me. And I’m the only one you want, right?”

“Of course.” Seungcheol whispers back.

“So when I say I don’t care, I really don’t.”

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Three)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: Your curiosity led you into the lion's mouth.

CONTAINS: Arranged marriage/enemies to lovers trope, implied smut, manipulative relationships, drugging, oral sex (Patrick receiving), titjob, dirty talk, misogyny, masturbation.

WORDS: 3.6k

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy the new chapter!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Swallowing hard, you carefully removed his hand. "Can you tell me why you’re doing this? I know you don't want this marriage to happen either...you've been dating such beautiful women just to end up married to me? What nonsense!" Your nervous chuckle echoed through the modern kitchen of Bateman's apartment. "You know, I think we can compromise. If this marriage is going to happen, we can make it a formality—you can keep your lifestyle and sleep with whoever you want, I won't mind, I promise. But the only thing I want is for you to let me finish my internship. That's all."

You did your best to regain your composure, even though you could see Patrick's eyebrows furrowed in frustration. How would you have reacted if someone had told you ten years ago that you would become Bateman? You would probably be so damn happy, because it was no secret that you had been in love with him since the first time you saw him—a cute little boy with a beautiful smile and freckles.

Patrick clenched his hand into a fist and pulled it away from you gently so as not to frighten you. He listened to your deal and furrowed his brow. 'I'm going to sleep with whoever, no matter what the deal is,' he thought to himself', the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly with amusement. Bateman chuckled and shook his head. "There's no need for this deal...do you think so little of me that you think I need more than one woman?" He grinned and put his hand on his chest as if he was offended by your statement. "Besides, you can finish your internship even if we're married. My father always wanted a doctor..." There was a hint of sadness in his voice when he mentioned his father. "...Besides, I have a maid." He took your hand and pulled you closer. "I... think you're beautiful... Sure, you could be thinner, but that's easily fixable. Of course, marriage isn't exactly what I want right now... but who knows? Maybe it'll be fun." There was a predatory glint in his eyes. If he could just get you to fall in love with him like you did in high school, you would be putty in his hands.

'I can be thinner, sure, but you can't be a better man than you are,' You thought, but you let him pull you closer, giving him the illusion that he was in control of the situation. "You sound like you want to change me to your liking," you scoffed, looking into his hazel eyes. "Will I have to dye my hair blonde?"

It was too bad for you that you had such a good memory, as your mind replayed all the old memories of endless numbers of blonde girls hovering around Bateman like sharks around a piece of meat.

"Aren't you afraid we'll be late?" You suddenly asked with a grin, making it clear that you didn't want to continue this conversation.

"Doesn't everyone want the best for their partner?" Patrick said, his voice lower than before. "I mean... I at least want to be attracted to my wife... So I wouldn't mind if her hair had more... Striking color." He looked at your curly locs curiously. "We'll think of something." All these statements hardly registered as insults to Patrick. Just the truth. Well, some of it was. If this marriage thing was really going to happen, he could at least get something out of it. A little... object to have around the house. If he got tired of you, you'd die in a “tragic accident” and he'd get the life insurance money, being your spouse and all. All he needed was for you to step a little closer into his trap. 

Bateman then looked at his watch. One hour to dinner now. He hummed and looked down at you, "I'll get ready. Wait here." He walked away, huffing quietly. It was obvious that nothing sexual would happen before dinner. Whatever. Once in his room, he closed the door—or so he thought. He sat down on his bed and pulled his boxers down, his erection popping out. He flushed as he tried to think of something to get him off. After pushing thoughts of you out of his mind, his thoughts moved to Courtney. Sure, she was married to Luis now... but he always imagined Luis dead in his fantasies. That only made her more attractive to him anyway. He imagined her tanned, aerobic legs spread for him, her pussy winking as an invitation. He smiled and wrapped his hand around his cock, moving it quickly as he bit his thumb to hide his moans.

Five minutes had passed since Patrick had left, and you were still standing in the kitchen, thinking about your recent conversation. As you were about to go into the living room and maybe read something to kill some time, you heard a muffled moan. At first you thought it was coming from the TV, but when you heard it again, your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to find the source of the moaning.

Cautiously, like a cat, you crept into the living room, only to find a small gap in the bedroom door, and although your inner voice tried to stop you, you refused to listen and continued to come closer as if hypnotized. It only took a few small steps to get closer to the door to see Bateman's naked form, his eyes closed and his cheeks flushed. As your curious gaze fell to his groin, your heart seemed to stop at the sight of his meaty, veiny cock, cut and so damn huge that your insides tightened at the sight.

"Oh...my...God…" You whispered uncontrollably before recoiling as if from the fire.

Embarrassed, you felt a searing heat coursing through your body, frightening you so much that instead of just returning to the living room, you ran to the bathroom and locked the door. Then you opened the sink to muffle your desperate gasping. 'Why? Why is this happening? Why did I want to wrap my hands around his dick? Why did I want... to taste it? Fuck, I bet it tastes amazing...'

"STOP!" You yelled at yourself, grabbing the surface of the bathroom counter. 'How am I supposed to behave around him after what I've seen? You cursed, trying to calm yourself.'

Patrick groaned and tilted his head back, gripping the sheets as he quickened his hand movements. The silence in the room was broken by a soft noise. His eyes flew open and he looked at the door to see a figure flashing away from it. "Hey!" he roared, instantly enraged. Before Bateman could do anything he would regret, he pulled his boxers back up and opened his desk drawer. He took out his prescriptions and popped a pill into his mouth, letting it calm him down and quell his emotions. 

The man sighed and got up, walking out of the bedroom. He looked around and saw that the bathroom door was closed and went straight to it. He calmly knocked on the door. "Becca." Patrick called, his voice stern and demanding, but still with a hint of comfort. "Come out. You're not in trouble." He huffed and put a hand on the door frame, waiting for you to meet him.

‘Oh my fucking God, he caught me looking at him! What am I going to say? Uhhh, I'm sorry, I thought you were in pain, so I came over and saw you jerking off. FUCK!’

With a deep breath you closed the tap and after a quick look at your reflection you fixed your hair and went to the door to open it. But at the last moment you stopped, feeling your heart pounding so fast because you were sure Bateman was standing right behind the door.

"Can you...can you get away from the door, please? I'll come out." You didn't want your voice to sound demanding, but what was done was done.

Patrick rolled his eyes and took a step back from the door, crossing his arms over his pecs. He tapped his foot on the floor as he waited for you to come out. The man wasn't sure what he would do when you came out. Probably try to persuade you ... tell you that if you wanted to watch him so badly, you could get a better look before you left for dinner.

When you left the bathroom, the first thing you noticed was that Bateman was still wearing only his white boxers, which made you visually nervous.

"Mmmhhm, if you're still not ready to go out, maybe you don't really want to have this dinner?" You asked shyly, closing the bathroom door. "Maybe... you have other plans?"

Wait, what? Why the hell did you ask that?

Abashed, you averted your eyes from his, finding it hard to look into them—a blazing embarrassment burning you from the inside out. 'Don't look...don't look...oh shit, he's still so hard.'

Patrick laughed and shook his head. "No, we can't miss this dinner. My friend wants to meet you." The man said and adjusted the hem of his boxers. He was still extremely hard, which made it uncomfortable to stand. "You know, I just wanted to take care of my... problem by myself, which wouldn't take long." He put his hand back on the doorframe and leaned over you. "But since you want to watch so badly... you can help." He winked. "If you want."

Bateman ran his hand down your arm before moving it to your waist. "It won't take long... besides, I can tell you want to. Why be so reluctant?" He grinned. "I think it'll be an excellent way for us to relieve stress."

Trembling, you gasped at his touch and now you were beginning to regret not wearing a bra as your nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric of your dress.

You closed your eyes for a second to process his suggestion. "You want me to... you want me to watch you masturbate? Is that what you want?"

'I can't believe we're actually talking about this.' Oh, how many times did you spend the nights touching yourself and thinking about Patrick, but that Patrick was just your perfect illusion, because now you were standing in front of the real Bateman, selfish and arrogant and totally sexy and hot. Dear God…

Patrick laughed. "God, you really are a virgin." He looked down and saw your nipples protruding conspicuously from the dress. That was enough motivation for him to keep going. The man snaked his hand up your back and pulled you closer, pressing his erection against your leg. Then Bateman pressed his fingers against your hip, using all his strength not to rip the dress off you right away. "I want you to go to... our bedroom, take off the dress and wait for me." He whispered, keeping his eyes on you. "I know you have fantasized about this before, Rebecca. You want my fat cock inside you, don't you?"

Even though it had been almost ten days since you had tried to get used to living with Patrick in his apartment, but all that time you hadn't even slept in the same bed, although it was stupid to deny that you didn't look at his perfect body whenever you had the chance.

"I... I can try to help you, but I'm not ready for such radical things as having sex with you," you said, your whole body shaking, but you didn't try to remove his hands. "You said it wouldn't take long...so maybe we can finish this right here?"

Maybe it could mean that you accepted your fate, but when you got on your knees in front of him, it didn't feel strange or disgusting, it felt so fucking wrong, but at the same time so fucking right.

Patrick watched you with hungry eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He didn't want it to be just a blow job... but he'd take what he could get. Maybe he'd let you sleep in the same bed with him tonight. Well.. "Sleep" - he'd see how long you actually slept. Bateman moved his hand to the top of your head as you dropped to your knees. He smiled and pulled his boxers down, letting his erection pop out and hit your cheek. Pre-cum oozed from the tip from his earlier masturbation session. "Good. Let's see what you can do." Patrick murmured and ran his hand through your hair. He knew he'd probably have to do most of the work, you being a virgin and all, but he'd let you take control for a while, show him how you could work your magic.

Totally embarrassed, you didn't even know how to react when Bateman's thick cock almost slapped your cheek—you had never felt more vulnerable and humiliated in your life. And even though this was not your first blowjob, the only boyfriend you had was much smaller, so the huge size difference turned out to be much scarier than you thought.

Closing your eyes, you wrapped your tiny hand around the base of his beefy dick, which twitched in response. "Why... Why are you so big?" You asked naively before giving his swollen tip a few kitten licks. 

‘Oh God, if Patrick ever found out about my ex-boyfriend and that we failed to have sex several times because he wasn't that big, Bateman would laugh at me and mock me for the rest of my life.’

Patrick watched, leaning over you and resting his arm against the wall. He watched you work, his face expressionless as you worked slowly. He started to get impatient, but held himself back. "Uh- genetics?" The man smiled condescendingly. "Have you never seen a real man's cock? I mean, I know you're a virgin, but I know you had a boyfriend in high school... some nobody from the suburbs." He chuckled before tugging gently on your hair. "Why don't you open your mouth wide for me?" Bateman crooned softly.

As for the current options, you chose to open your mouth as he asked, rather than tell him about your failures in your sex life. The moment Bateman pushed himself deeper into your mouth, you immediately grabbed his hips, trying to keep control of the situation.

"Mhmmm," you murmured around his throbbing dick, hoping it would all be over soon. Thank God Patrick gave you a short breather. "It... it won't fit, Patrick."

Ashamed, you fidgeted nervously on the floor, not wanting him to know that you were so wet between your legs.

Patrick moaned and tilted his head back, enjoying the warmth of your mouth. He rocked his hips slightly, his head nuzzling the inside of your cheek. He looked down and pulled out of your mouth, listening to you speak. "Oh, it'll fit..." He grinned before moving both hands to your hair. Bateman gripped tightly, then thrust his cock into your mouth, moaning deeply. With a shaky breath he stopped himself from making you deepthroat him. Gradually, the man rocked his hips faster, carefully pulling in and out of your mouth. "Mm, fuck... perfect fit..." He growled under his breath.

You did your best to breathe through your nose, though your eyes were already watering from lack of oxygen. It was humiliating and even painful, the way his cockhead brushed against your soft palate was almost brutal. 

'Fuck, what am I doing? What will my family think of me when they find out what a slut I have become?' You could only whimper helplessly, hoping that Bateman would soon reach his climax and let you go, but... what if he decided to cum in your mouth? You leaned on his hips, then one of your hands rested on his perfect abs, signaling him to slow down a bit.

Patrick closed his eyes as he worked his hips back and forth, chasing his own pleasure at a slow pace. He let out a throaty moan and opened his eyes when he felt you tap him. He slowed his thrusts but continued, his eyebrows furrowed. No way you were tapping out already. Bateman sighed and pulled out of your mouth completely, looking down at you with a scornful look. "I think jerking off would go a lot faster." The man said bitterly, keeping his hands in your hair. He moved one to wipe the drool from your lip, tilting his head in thought. He knew that if he got too rough with you now, you'd probably never trust him with sex again... and it would be a pain in the ass to have to wrestle you down like an irate chihuahua every time he had a hard-on. He could just hire prostitutes, but that adds up fast.

Bateman's mocking comment about your lack of experience really offended you because you were trying your best to help him with his "hard" problem.

"Hey, I'm trying, okay?" you suddenly blurted out in an angry tone. "It's not my fault that you're so... huge," you gasped several times, finally able to breathe properly. But Patrick's burning eyes still looked at you deceptively. "Uh, I don't know... how about this?" you knew that it would be so risky, since you could easily get dirty, but you didn't know what else you could do in such a situation. Slowly you pulled down the top of your dress, revealing your heavy tits. Without realizing what you were doing, you squeezed them together and looked up at Patrick, his dick twitching at the sight of your breasts. "Do you...like it?"

Patrick sniffed. 'Could have fooled me,' he thought to himself with an amused grin that only deepened when you called him 'huge'. His eyes widened and his lips pursed as Bateman watched you pull down your dress. He really wasn't expecting it. His eyes froze on your breasts, his cock twitching at the sight. Biting the inside of his cheek, he nodded. "Yeah... did you have plastic surgery or something?" He asked, gently running his hand through your hair. He wanted to fuck your tits. The thought made his cock twitch again. "How about you lying down on the couch? I have an idea... you don't have to do anything. You won't lose your virginity either." Bateman grinned cheekily.

Your face was tense with panic as you tried not to think about what was happening. "No, I didn't have surgery," you replied, slowly standing up and covering your breasts. "They're natural."

Smiling shyly, you said it with a hint of pride, but then your expression tensed as Bateman looked at you, eating you alive with his brown eyes. Then you took a moment to consider whether it was right to follow his order, but did you really have a choice, since it was your idea to start all this madness? Leisurely, you moved past Patrick to his white slutty couch to lie down on it, your dress slipping down more and more as you couldn't hold it in place.

"What... what are you going to do to me?" You asked as you lay on the soft furniture, listening to the man's steady footsteps.

Patrick watched you make your way to the couch and made sure you obeyed him before he went into the bathroom. He fixed his hair in the mirror before opening his medicine cabinet and taking out the spermicidal lubricant. He put some on his hand and smeared it on, his cock twitching in his grasp. The man hummed and walked back into the living room. 

Smugly, Bateman looked over at you, his eyes roaming hungrily over your body. "Trust me, you'll like it." He smiled and stood beside you, towering over you as he stroked your head. After that, Patrick moved to carefully straddle your belly, hovering over you instead of sitting on you. With an obsessive determination, he gripped your tits tightly, rubbing his palms against your sensitive nipples before slowly thrusting his cock between them.

The moment his hot flesh slid between your heavy breasts, you literally stopped breathing. It was so obscene, so sinful, so...delightful? Your ex-boyfriend had never done this to you before, so you didn't even know how to react.

"It's so warm," you whimpered, not daring to look down. "I can feel it pulsating..."

Your hands roamed chaotically over the plush surface of the couch as you were trapped under Bateman's massive body like a little bunny cornered by the Big Bad Wolf, doing your best to stifle any provocative sounds that would reveal your arousal.

Patrick nodded, biting his lower lip. "Yeah..." He groaned and thrust faster, enjoying the feel of his cock between your soft breasts. His veiny cock twitched and he felt his balls tighten, signaling that he was getting closer. Frowning, the man growled and gripped you tighter, thrusting faster. The head of his cock brushed against your lower lip as he moved.

"Ohh... yeah... I know you like this..." He moaned, moving at a slightly gentler pace. Patrick grinned over you, his slicked back hair losing some of its shape so that strands fell in front of his eyes.

You could feel his movements becoming more erratic and jerky - the obvious evidence of his impending orgasm. "Patrick," you called his name in a feeble attempt to get his attention. "Please...don't...come around my breasts, please!"

You were simply not ready, and you were afraid that Bateman would stain the dress he bought you and blame you for it.  'What if I suggest he finish in my mouth? Oh, fuck, he'll drown me in his cum.'

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[kookslastbutton]

Love's Remedy ༓ jjk (m) l ch. II

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,783

Warnings: angry koo, jealous koo, gym rat koo, thicc thighs koo, protective koo, kook checks his abs out, koo gets in a physical fight with an aggressive jerk that involves punching, name-calling (half pint, hermit crab, b*tch, Bambi, honeysuckle, kookie), mention of blood (minor), jk is very cute and determined towards oc, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), oc has poor self-esteem, cussing, bit of crying...sorry lot of warnings this chapter

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: Yes, I'm aware this chapter is short, still Jungkook is shirtless in half of this and I am not sorry. This chapter also gets heavy but I hope you enjoy! 💞

<< ch. I ༓ ch. II >> | series masterlist

A week passes since the frat party and Jungkook hears nothing from you. He's reluctant to accept that you've likely already deleted his number but why else would you be radio silent? Why would someone like you ever be interested in a shy little nerd like him?

He's disappointed but when he gave you his number, it's not like he was expecting anything in return.

Well, he can’t stay hung up on you forever—he'll give you one more week. In the meantime, it’s 5 p.m and he’s off to do his daily lifting at the gym. He read somewhere online that evening is better for building strength, and that is exactly what he intends to do.

With a basic black tank top and gym shorts on, Jungkook scans the expanse of the facility. The place isn’t too crowded being that it’s nearly dinner time but it’s still moderate. He’s hoping Jackson will join him soon, considering they’re buddies now because isn’t that what guy friends do? Workout together?

When he makes his way to the weight room he quickly finds it's packed with guys double his size. Half of them look like they're upperclassmen while the other half is split between first-years like him and a small handful of women. He sheepishly strolls over to an empty pull-up bar, deciding to start with chin lifts.

Jungkook sets his water bottle on the ground, reaches for the handle, and lifts his body up until his chin is level with the bar, legs swing in the air slightly. He then extends his arms back out. The burn in his biceps feels good. He repeats the motion a few more times but has to stop when he hits six.

He takes a big swig of his water, already sweating evident from the tank top sticking to his back. The coolness of the water helps but between his own sweat and the sweat of others around him, Jungkook is tempted to throw his shirt off. Most of the men in the room aren’t wearing any more than shorts anyway so why can’t he?

Jungkook grasps the edges of his tank, pulling it up a little. How did his abs look? Were they good enough to show off? He’s working out diligently since 14 but he was still on the smaller side compared to the rest of his peers.

The mirror to his left helps him get a better look so he shifts his body over. When he does he catches a slight glimpse of a familiar face in the top right corner. Jungkook instantly drops his shirt, whipping his head around.

What were you doing in the weight room? And with some buff guy twice his size closely behind you? All he’s doing is staring at your ass in those tight purple shorts which so happens to have a matching crop top.

Jungkook scowls at the sight.

When you take a seat at one of the bench presses a couple of feet away, his eyes widen. The guy you came with stands behind your head as you lean back. He helps you set the barbell. It’s too far for Jungkook to hear what he’s telling you but he’s convinced it’s nothing good. Whoever this guy is he won’t stop grinning, and you’re grinning back!

You said you don’t do relationships. You said you'd think about going out with him. You said a lot of things but here you are with some guy that looks an awful lot like a boyfriend, how disgusting…

Fuck it.

Jungkook turns his eyes away from you, yanks his tank off, and grabs the pull-up bar again. He’s gonna knock ten of these out in one set.

Shoulder-width apart, he keeps a steady pace though he makes sure to take deep breaths to prolong his stamina. His eyes fixate on the back wall of the weight room to avoid you and your supposedly new boo from getting in his head.

Apparently, you just didn’t want him. It’s fine. Jungkook exhales. It’s all fine.

After three sets of chin-ups, Jungkook releases himself from the bar to check his phone. He takes another glug of his water too.

Jackson: hey Kook, I was planning to join you at the gym today but I got my family in town tonight. Man, it’s only been a week….can you believe they’re here to visit already?

Jungkook: Wow, all I’ve gotten from my family is a short text saying good luck. They must miss you a lot but yeah, it’s no problem. We can work out another time?

Jackson: You got it bro. Thank you for understanding 🙏🏼 Also, there’s a second thing 😬

Jungkook: ??

Jackson: I might have told my parents about you so are you free to get lunch with us tomorrow? My parents want to meet you. Our treat.

Jungkook: Really? Okay yeah. I’d love to meet them. Time?

Jackson: We don’t know yet but likely 1pm if that’s okay?

Jungkook: Sure, I’ll just be studying so. Text me when you know.

Jackson: I will. How’s the gym?

Jungkook hovers his thumbs over the keyboard. When he glances up to think, he’s reminded of your lingering presence. You’re no longer bench pressing anymore but instead doing a set of bent-over dumbbell rolls. With the way you’re torso’s angled, anyone who’s anyone has a direct view of your rear end. Any decent person would pay it no mind but that same douchebag next to you keeps gawking.

“It’s not meant to be a fucking sex position,” Jungkook mutters and types out a response. “Fucker.”

He makes his way to the black punching bag on the other side of the room, passing a strong glare at that young man as he nears the two of you. He doesn’t know his name but he’d really like to go over there and knee him in the balls. His eyes flicker at you for a moment, so pretty.

“The hell are you staring at my girl for half-pint?” The man calls Jungkook out in an aggressive stance. “Keep your eyes in front before I fuck you up.”

Frazzled, Jungkook scurries to move past the both of you with his head down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything.” He doesn’t get three steps before a solid form blocks his path.

“Who are you apologizing to? Your feet? Look me in the damn eye when you talk to me.”

“Jun-ho stop,” you come up beside the man, tugging at his arm. He yanks himself out of the grasp, however, jolting your body back. You nearly lose your balance.

“I’m just trying to teach this little hermit crab what happens when you stare at another man’s woman, baby.”

Jungkook clenches his fists as you struggle to re-stabilize yourself. You should not be with this asshole. He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t deserve to be calling you his baby. Who the fuck does he think he is shoving a woman like that.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you spit. “I’m not your woman. Now leave Jungkook alone. He doesn’t need this.”

Jun-ho gives you a cocky smirk. “Oh? So he’s Jungkook huh? You know him too. You fucking him behind my back or something?” He takes a step towards you. Jungkook lunges forward seeing your obvious discomfort.

“Don’t touch her!” Jungkook stands between you and Jun-ho. He’s shaking so badly but he doesn’t budge. “Take another step and I’ll–I’ll–“

“You’ll pound me in the ground? You and what army? You can’t even talk.” He snorts and moves to toss Jungkook to the side. “Get out of my way.”

Jungkook feels the back of his neck heat with rage, his ears red and burning. There’s no way in hell he’s letting Jun-ho get to you.

“She told you to stop, so why don’t you just–fuck off!” Jungkook shoves Jun-ho back with as much force as he can. His body’s not built and his arm muscles aren’t as ripped but he’s got some big fucking thighs that manage to anchor him to the ground.

“You shit.” Jun-ho grits his teeth and punches Jungkook straight in the gut. Jungkook doubles over in agony. His hand clutches over his abdomen as he groans. You hurry in front of him but you’re thrown to the side by a pair of large hands. “Move bitch,” Jun-ho snaps, eyes bolstered on the smaller man.

“Hey, what the hell is going on over here?” The manager of the gym rushes over to the three of you. He grabs Jungkook and offers him support. “You can’t be doing this young man. You need to leave now.”

Jun-ho shakes his head. “Count yourself lucky this time Jungkook. Could have been a lot worse if it weren’t for this old man getting in the way.” He stares at the manager and then at you. “Come on __.”

“You’re fucking nuts if you think I’m coming with you. I’m staying with Jungkook.”

“No, you’re fucking not.” Jun-ho reaches for your arm until his head is knocked backward by a clean, punch to his jaw. “Fuck! You Fuck!” He holds his jaw, stumbling into a rack of dumbbells behind him.

Jungkook’s knuckles bleed as he holds his own wrist. He winces at the sharp throbbing and stinging from the punch. “Okay no more, no more,” the manager anxiously darts his eyes back and forth between him and Jun-ho. “I want you all out of my facility this instance.”

After being thrown out of the gym, Jungkook returns to his dorm room. He insists he takes care of his injury himself but it doesn’t sit well with you so you follow him.

“I’m so sorry about this Jungkook. Jun-ho’s a bastard.” You finish wrapping his knuckles in the elastic bandage then lean forward to place your hands on his shoulders. “Promise me you won’t ever do that again.”

Jungkook holds your pleading stare from his seated position. Your soft hands are simultaneously soothing and unsettling. He’s not mad at you for what happened at all. But seeing you with a jerk like Jun-ho when you rejected him, someone who’d never treat his girl like a piece of trash causes all kinds of knots inside him.

“You’re not going to see him again right? Because I can’t make that promise if you do.” His voice is low, nervous that you'll say yes.

Jungkook might not have personal relationship experience but he's witnessed his share of unhealthy relationship dynamics more times he'd like to count.

“Jungkook…” You muster up the best reassuring smile you can and tuck a few loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Nothing's going to happen between me and Jun-ho anymore. We weren't anything serious. But you care too much about me, I’m not worth the trouble.”

Hearing this, he reaches a hand up to close over yours. “Please don’t say that. Everyone deserves to be cared for and as long as I can help it, I’ll be the first to do it.” His big, doting eyes search into yours. "And good, don't go back to him __. He's not the type of man you need."

"And what type of man do I need Bambi?" You stroke his puffy cheeks and quirk your head to the side inquisitively. Jungkook flinches at the touch.

"Bambi?"

"You didn't like it when I called you baby so, had to come up with something else."

"But." There's that pout again. Jungkook doesn't like being called a baby but when someone reaching this level of adorable, its so hard to shake. "But I just knocked a bitch out for you. How can you keep calling me baby names?"

The chuckle that leaves your lips is heaven to Jungkook's ears. "Aww Jungkook," you coo. "It's 'cause you're a little honeysuckle. So sweet to the taste." His ears perk up at that, gnawing on his bottom lip. "But if you want me to call you something else that might take some more time for me to figure out. Until then do tell me, what do I need?"

"Someone that'll protect you."

"Mhm, okay but—"

"Emotionally, physically, and mentally." Jungkook lists out loud. "That means someone to stand up for you, support you in the ways you need. Someone to help keep losers like Jun-ho out who only look out for themselves." He pauses, contemplating thoughtfully. "You need someone you can trust too. When you're sick you'll be taken care of and he'll never ever cheat on you. Even if you fight, he'll always stick by your side. You'll watch movies together, cuddle under the covers, and stargaze on summer nights. He'll also peel perilla leaves for you and love you until sunrise. Finally, when the time's right he'll ask to marry you, only if you want, of course."

Jungkook waits for you to give him a reply, a little breathless. He notices the distance between you and him somehow got larger. You're now about two feet away from him when you were only mere inches before.

"I'm sorry." He lowers his head. "It's silly I know. Everyone tells me I'm some kind of dreamer boy, just a hopeless romantic."

"It's not silly Jungkook." You soften your expression. "It's a beautiful idea and somewhere out there will gladly share those things with you. You'll live a full life together having all those wonderful experiences."

"Wanna have them with you though." His eyes flicker up at you. "I really like you __."

Oh no, no no no. You push down the pressure building from inside you. "No, I can't. I'm sorry Bambi, I want to but you don't know me." A small tear spills out of the corner of your eye. "I'm not able to....I can't love you like that."

Jungkook gets up from his chair and reaches for your trembling hand. You're tempted to pull back if it weren't for the fact that your hand feels warm in his.

"I can," he says. "I can love you if you let me."

You shake your head, and another hot tear rolls down your face. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm even crying." You quickly wipe your wet cheeks.

"You don't always need a reason. Sometimes it just happens and that's okay. I cry all the time when I'm by myself." Jungkook grabs your other hand slowly. "Just wanna be here for you."

You blink back the remaining tears welling in your eyes. You're embarrassed this is happening at all. Jungkook is the sweetest, most kind-hearted, and most selfless person you know. He shouldn't have to be dealing with any of this.

"If we can't go out, is it okay that we are friends?"

"I don't want to do that to you Kookie."

"Hey, I like that one," he says with a lifted voice.

"You do? I didn't even think about it like the others."

"You were thinking about me?" He bounces in the air a little, at least that's what it looks like to you by the sudden rush of energy Jungkook responds with. He likes knowing you've been paying attention to him, even if only a smidge.

You dart your eyes past him, fingers curling in his hand. "Well I mean..." Jungkook waits intently. "I guess...yes, some."

"Oh please __, please let me take you out. We don't even have to call it a date."

"You're too persistent, you know that?"

"But is it working?"

"I'm not ready yet Jungkook." His shoulders slouch and he opens his mouth to say something though you continue before he can get anything out. "To give you an answer. I'm not ready to give you an answer yet is what I'm trying to say."

"Well, that's okay. You wanna think about it longer? We can four years until graduation."

"You're such a goof, you'd wait that long for an answer?"

Jungkook shakes his head. "No, I'd wait that long for you." He pauses. "Okay maybe I have been watching one too many Korean dramas. Even I threw up in my mouth a little."

Too both share a laugh, this is the weirdest, emotionally exhausting day ever. "Thank you for what you did today with Jung-ho. And for trying to comfort me. Will you possibly be able to wait another week? If it's too long you can tell me. I've made you wait long enough."

"A week from now, let's meet up okay? Or call at least. Even if it's a no, I don't want this to be the last time I get to see or hear you."

"Okay." You nod. "I promise."

And that was the end of that night, as Jungkook walks you to your dorm soon after. It was getting dark out after all.

A/N: tysm for reading! Lmk what you think and if you wan to be tagged comment/ask 💞

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@hoseokteardrop

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[vegaseatsass]

So the way I assume at least some number of people felt about Pit Babe ("not sure this is hanging together narratively, but OMG THIS SHIT IS CRAZY! I HAVE TO GO TELL TUMBLR!") is the way I feel about Blank the Series. Well, I was right that the younger Nueng (who I will call Anueng) is named after the older Nueng (who I will call Nueng), because Anueng's mother was in love with Nueng. HOWEVER! Fah named her daughter after Nueng as an act of SPITE. Nueng didn't reciprocate her affections, so Fah ended up fucking Nueng's fiance - maybe as a way to feel close to her unrequited love ?? - and getting pregnant at age 16. Nueng encouraged her to abort the child for the sake of her future. So 20 years later, Fah tells Nueng YES I named my daughter after you: because you RUINED MY LIFE! By 1) breaking my heart when we were kids 2) almost causing me to miscarry my daughter, whom you are now in love with!!!! So both of Anueng's parents were and probably are in unrequited love with Nueng. They produced a baby who has decided her only mission in life is to get with this older woman... who both her parents are/were in love with. Now if that is not enough melodrama for you, Nueng left her fiance at the altar but he is still like, into her and likes hanging out with her. As soon as she told him he's Anueng's father he wanted to become a part of his daughter's life. So Nueng becomes like the gatekeeper of time with Anueng. Fah is like "help me bond with my estranged daughter (who wants to fuck you just like I do)". Chet, the father, is like "will you allow me to see my daughter (who wants to fuck you just like I do)?" as if it's Nueng's call... So in response to the epic guilt Nueng's feeling about Anueng's almost-miscarriage (it wasn't actually her fault btw, Fah is lying to chain Nueng to her out of guilt), Nueng arranges an amusement park date between her two exes, their daughter, and a guy who likes their daughter, even though the daughter in question only wants to be there with Nueng. There's one hilarious scene where Nueng tries to set both mother and daughter up on an age appropriate heterosexual date through a haunted house while she fades into the background, and they both rush through while the men jump and gasp in fear, because the women only want to get back to Nueng waiting outside. I just don't think I can express how weird this is. Nueng sets up a birthday party for the girl who has been professing her love for her since they met, where all the attendees are intended to help Anueng move on from her, but there is NO distinction between "people who can parent you instead of me" and "person who wants to fuck you instead of me". Nueng makes a sincere comment about how easy it is to fall in love with Anueng, TO HER FATHER. Anueng's MOTHER is jealous that her daughter likes Nueng better than her. It's just all sooooooooooo fucking weird and psychosexual. 20yo Anueng's babyishness remains incredibly offputting to me, but my friend has pointed out she only does that when she's around Nueng, so it's very obviously a performance. When she's around literally anyone else she kind of just looks like she's dissociating 24/7. Plus her abusive grandmother has kept her so sheltered and isolated and abused that it's not surprising she doesn't really know how to socialize authentically. So even if it's not my bag I'm like, narratively compelled by whatever the actual fuck is going on in this GL. And did I mention: Mon and Sam are there, too!!!! There's a whole plotline where Anueng is jealous of Sam because she thinks Nueng and Sam are girlfriends. When she finds out they're actually sisters (and she double-checks onscreen: ACTUAL, biological sisters? This isn't a pseudocest situation?), she's like oh! So you like beautiful rich women! All I have to do is replace your sister by becoming a beautiful rich woman myself!!!

[ellaa-writes]

Good Dog

author note: Part 3 yay!! Series list found here. I actually edited this one, I know! Probably still mistakes lol, I love writing this type of Simon but mean Simon is still my favourite. Reader and Simon parts are going on at different times, weeks apart, just in case of any confusion of time line. Enjoy!

summary: His favourite words include; down boy, good dog, heel, fetch and his most favourite, get 'em. Well trained, and listens good. Loyal through and through. Always striving to be the absolute best. Ready to attack at all times, always on guard. Loves discipline, either giving or receiving. Working for a criminal mastermind, lurking in the shadows. You both trying not to be seen or noticed but after one unlucky night, all you both can see are the ghosts. He invades your life, if you both like it or not.

tags: Alternative Universe. Female reader. A/B/O dynamics. Alpha Simon, Beta Reader, Bad Scottish lingo (I tried). Very tame and a chapter filler.

You hadn't seen Simon in a few weeks, must have gotten bored you thought, eventually everyone leaves so why wouldn't he. Things felt different with him, like timed slowed down and life finally had a meaning.

You stopped in front of a news stand, big bold letters. OMEGA POPLUATION HITS AN ALL TIME LOW; leading scientists may have found a solution. You snatched the paper and handed the worker $5 telling him to keep the rest as you rushed back home paper in hand. The title wasn't what caught your attention, it was a few paragraphs down the words doctor and experimental procedure. Tossing your belongings on the dining table soon as you entered your grungy apartment.

Reading the article fully, then once more. Doctors have developed a experimental drug that could alter a Beta women's chemistry. Tricking the body into thinking its an Omega, a few experiments have been conducted and results have so far been proven successful. But they are searching for more Beta women to submit themselves into the program.

Those words playing over and over in your head, becoming an Omega, and having a loyal and supportive Alpha. Not having to worry about all the small things, not having to work and struggle to make ends meet. You could leave your pathetic life behind.

All Simon did was follow orders, being the good dog, he is. A successful mission out of the way, the Boss left before he did. Having to hurry back cause of his Omega. Simon used to have dreams about settling down, but that was before he became ghost. Stupid child aspirations, but mostly because he felt like he didn't deserve one. And who would want him as an Alpha, all teeth, and hard edges. It would be a punishment to be stuck with him until death, and death would be the reward.

You jotted the number down on a piece of paper and stuck it to your fridge. You didn't have to decide now, but you were tempted to.

Dealing with Makarov was easier than expected most of these men act tough on the outside but soon as you start pulling out their insides, they change their tune. He wasn't in too much of a hurry to get home, it's been two weeks since he last saw her, he's been keeping his distance, not wanting to poison her cause that's what he was poison.

It was very late into the night when he finally arrived in the city, driving down the desolate neighborhoods till he found himself parked in front of his apartment. Not the one across from hers but the one he bought himself soon as he had enough money too. The only thing that remained from his previous life. Cutting the engine and walking inside.

He still had a landline, hard wired into the wall next to the thermostat. He's never used it and has never had anyone call it. Not like many people have the number anyways, emergency he told himself when he bought and installed it all those years ago. Having the number updated in his file, but now it hangs there mockingly. Much to his surprise when he walked into his quiet home, a little red dot glowing from the device.

He ignored it at first, taking his clothes off to take a quick shower. To wash away the memories that still plague him, the water never being hot enough. He stood there in nothing but a towel around his waist. Staring at that glowing red light, missed call.

He should just delete it, but he decided to play the message. A voice came through the small speaker, one that he thought he'd never hear again. John Price.

"Oi Simon, it's John. Ain't sure if this dog and bone's still on the go. Tried your mobile, but it's saying it's disconnected. Anyways, thought I'd drop you a bell 'cause we're gonna be in the city for a bit. Fancy a chinwag, like the old days, yeah? So, give me a call, same digits as ever. It'd be proper nice to catch up, Simon."

It was silent for a while afterwards, only Simon's heaving breathing filling up the space. Not once did they call him while he was locked up doing time, not once did they reach out and say they cared. They were family once, at least he thought they were. Stupid.

All the rage simmering up inside of him finally boiled over the edge. Simon grabbed the stupid phone and slammed it into the wall as hard as he could, again and again until there was nothing left but broken pieces of plastic, wiring and now a hole in his wall.

It only took you three hours of pacing back and forth in your tiny apartment, the small piece of paper stuck to your fridge door taunting you. As the line rang you debated on hang up, forgetting any of this happened but it was to late. The reception answered your call, redirecting you to the head of the project. Giving a little info over the phone they scheduled you in for the same day if you could make it. It was on the other side of town, the side you hardly went to cause there was no need. Unless you wanted to make yourself feel even more shitty about your life.

He debated if he should call, be the bigger person the little voice in his head called out. They had their reasoning for abandoning him, for treating him like the plague, they had to, right?

You were on the bus, watching as the fading sun descended and the moon turned brighter. The glow of city coming to life, some many people out and about. You barely had enough money to and back, getting off at the stop further away. Walking the rest to save a bit of cash and take in the scenery. The air was crisp, it never got too cold during the winter season. Also, long as the wind stayed away it was a mild year so far.

To say this was awkward was an understatement. Simon sat across from the beta Scottsman, not much has changed he thought. The group of men still joking around like nothing happened like good ol' times, they kept trying to get him in on it. Simon soon realised that this was a mistake, all of it. Calling Price and picking out this bar. They weren't his pack anymore, they ditched him soon as things went south.

Simon's grip on his glass of bourbon tightened when Johnny yelled "Right Lt." the group getting quiet afterwards, Johnny knew he fucked up. Simon got up abruptly, taking a big gulp of the burning liquid amber, polishing off his drink before slamming it back down.

"Goin’ for a smoke." as he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. Marching towards the front door. He could hear Kyle's faint call of his name, the beta man always playing mediator, Price holding Johnny back like an Alpha would a misbehaving puppy as Simon made his way outside.

"Bunch of fuckin' pricks." it was a whisper to himself, digging out his pack of smokes and shoving one into his mouth. Lighting it with ease as he sucked in a big lung full. The door to the bar opened and closed, fully expecting to smell the cigar-soaked Alpha but instead it was Johnny tail between his legs.

"I ken ye dinnae wanna gab about it." he tried but Simon cut him right off. "I don't." blowing a huge cloud in the betas face. "Weel, someone's gotta." he just wanted some fucking peace and quiet. "The start talkin’ or shut the fuck up." dropping his finished cigarette to the ground, giving it a good stomp before putting another to his lips.

"Things have changed, ye've changed. Ah ken everything's aw fucked up right now. We tried-" Simon huffed out a stiff laugh, not believing a thing the Scott was saying. He could see his lips still moving but he couldn’t hear what he was saying as a familiar scent caught his nose.

Before Simon could think a small body collided with Soaps as he stepped out towards the curb with a hand to the back of his neck. "Ah, fuck, sorry ‘bout that, lass." Simon watched in slow motion as you got knocked off balance. Johnny reaching out to help the poor thing but before, he could feel the growl coming from his chest and throat. Pushing the Beta to the side as he took a hold of you, bring you to his chest.

He could hear your lower whimper, there was something different about you. Your scent was sweeter, it was pulling him in like a bee to a flower. "Simon?" letting out in a shaky breath. "What are you doing here?" you looked up into his eyes. Your hands resting against his chest, the hard muscle underneath flexing, a low rumble coming from within. You’ve never seen him like this, so casual but also feral, eyes blown and panting.

"Am I interrupting ye in the midst of somethin'?" Johnny didn't know what the hell was going on. Looking at the Omega flushed against the old Alpha, he was just happy that after everything that happened it was nice to see his old lieutenant finally settling down with such a sweet thing. Simon finally broke his gaze from you, settling it on the Beta. “It was a nice chat, gotta go.”

"Come, I'll drive you home." he stated, gripping your upper arm as he moved you towards his car. The more you stood outside surround by people the more Simon got irritated. He couldn't put his finger on it, the changes within you. He'd been away from a couple of weeks; it was hard staying away but he had a responsibility and a job to do. "I can take the bus." you tried moving around Simon, spotting the other man who was now gawking. "Like hell." Simon held onto you firm, walking you to his car.

"See you around." the Scott yelled from somewhere behind. He couldn't wait to tell the other two men of what he witnessed. The grumpy old Alpha had found himself a sweet Omega.

The drive home was in silence, not even the radio to help ease the awkward tension building up in the car. When Simon pulled onto your street you gathered your belongings. "Wait." you snapped your head to the driver's side.

"What were you doing out so late?" he was trying to interrogate you "I had an appointment." you held your hands in your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "Hmm" Simon grunted out, the whole way back to your apartment he had to stop himself from pulling the car over and pouncing on you.

Something wasn't right and he didn't like it or maybe he did. It confused him nonetheless and he wanted answers.

"You want to come up?" you don't know why you asked, why those words spilled out of your mouth. Simon was surprised too, cocking his head to side. "Sure." he cut the engine.

Once inside your apartment you didn't bother asking him if he wanted anything to drink. Unless he's into expired milk or tap water. The hulking man walked around your small place, picking things up and putting them down. Take in his surroundings, he already didn’t like you living in this area. He’s scoped out your apartment, the front door was a piece of shit, with a little bit of a jiggle and it popped open.

Walking towards your dingy couch he noticed the paper on the table, picking it up he scanned the words. You didn't.... His eyes found your form, busying yourself around your small kitchen. Shoving dirty dished into the sink to be forgotten about till later. Simon sniffed the air again, there was that familiar scent again. The smell of an Omega, the similar one that clung to his Boss, that filled every space of his home.

Omega.

He felt is heart quicken, his blood run thin. He's only had this feeling a few times, he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time. You noticed his completion pale, worrying you, grabbing a glass and filling it with your last bottle of water. Rushing to his side and calling his name.

Simon was so far away; he was in the middle of the raging ocean. The waves crashing over him, pulling him deeper under every unforgiving wave. Lungs full of burning salt water, gasping with arms stretched to the sky.

You could do the only thing you could think of you climbed into his lap. Curling yourself around him, rubbing your scent glad over his nose and mouth.

[onlyangellucifer]

I LOVE YOU, ITS RUINING MY LIFE

PLOT:

It’s the biggest trial of the year and the whole world is watching. Stakes are higher and tension is higher. Little do they know, the prosecutor and defence attorney are in love.

OR

Harry is a popular defense attorney in London & Y/N is a popular prosecutor. Both are known for rarely losing & now they’ve found themselves in a pickle.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

WARNINGS:

Mentions of murder, blood, and the likes (nothing too graphic), smut (in the future), angst, fluff, etc. will add more if any others pop up!

AUTHORS NOTE:

Hello!! Ive been MIA, sorry. However, ive come bearing gifts! Below the cut is a sneak peak at this new short series (no more than 6 parts atm). Im working on the other series’ too, sorry for the delay. Hope you can forgive me. Anyways i hope u enjoy defense attorney!Harry 🫶🏼 the preview also isnt proof read, so excuse any typos. Meaning things WILL be changed / could be changed & moved around! Not sure of word count, but cant be more than 1500. Its short.

London hasnt seen a case this high profile since the case of Harold Shipman, who killed up to 250 victims. Many feared this may be another case of Jack The Ripper, as they double checked their doors at night, hoping the serial killer wasn’t going to show up at their door. The relief that washed over the town when the police had finally caught the man whom they think is responsible for the latest killings of 20 men and women. The scenes were too graphic to show on tv.

Y/N ended up with the case. The crime scene photos were unnerving to her and interviewing the victims families made it even worse. Bile creeping up throat as she read the horrific things that happened to each victim. She wanted to know this case by the back of her hand, because of course she was up against one of the top defense attorneys in the country. He rather lost and found plot holes in every single case, having a 97% success rate with getting his clients off the hook and their record clear. She thought noone would pick up the mans case, there was so much evidence that pointed towards the man.

Harry was attractive, tall, dark hair and those piercing greenish hazel eyes. Y/N was nervous and she hated being that way. Harry often came by the law firm, having connections with anyone and everyone. His career was unmatched, he was handsome, wealthy, the whole package. Yet he was single and that blew Y/N’s mind.

Harry was just as shocked as Y/N to learn they’d facing each other in court. He was certain his client did it, but, he had to defend him anyways. He was called by the court to do it pro bono, as noone else wanted to take the case. If he lost, his numbers would certainly be impacted. If he won, people may look at him differently in a moral sense. Surely though there was a plot hole and the prosecution would slip up. He couldnt believe it was Y/N who got the case. Soft, shy, gorgeous Y/N. He already developed this small crush on her and now he had to take her on in court? Surely this wasnt a good thing. It had to be God punishing him for helping criminals and making a good living while doing so. Harry always viewed her as the more submissive type and his dirty thoughts were hard to keep at bay. Maybe that was the reason God was punishing him.

While Harry laid awake, staring at the ceiling, Y/N was doing the same. Y/N had never seen Harry in action, but, she’s heard how he’s always been strict and concise in the court room. His dominant side coming out, and that scared Y/N. Especially because she imagined him being dominant somewhere else, mainly at night when she lay in bed alone with her thoughts and hands.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

could you write a lioness!reader x harry imagine about her winning the euros and harry being there and being really proud and the games leading up to the final he shows on stage and runs out when she scores and then he’s actually at the game for the final and he holds to trophy and he’s just really proud of her

His Lioness.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - thinking of creating a series based on harry dating a lioness, due to the women’s world cup currently taking place. let me know !

this is also a instagram x real life sort of one, so there will be dialogue.

word count - 3.5k

in which, harry is dating the captain of the england women’s national team, and the euro final is taking place very soon, this is a selection of moments from the duration of the tournament.

face claim - leah williamson.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

26th July, 2022.

As the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over your hotel room, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside you. Today was the day of the Semi Final of Euro 2022, and you were going to represent the England women's football team in a crucial match. But despite your skills and experience, the pressure was getting to you.

You knew just the person who could calm your nerves—your husband, who was currently on tour in Argentina. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialled his number. As the FaceTime call connected, your heart skipped a beat, and you eagerly waited for him to answer.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally picked up after the fourth ring. His familiar face appeared on the screen, and you couldn't help but smile despite your jitters.

"Hey, m’heart. Is everything alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he noticed the nerves etched on your face.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I'm just... really nervous, H. It's the Semi Final today, and the pressure is getting to me."

Harry's comforting smile spread across his face as he leaned closer to the camera. "You've got this, baby. You've worked so hard f’this moment, and you're an incredible player. I have no doubt that y’and the team will do great today."

You couldn't help but feel reassured by his words, the sound of his voice calming your anxious heart. "I know, but what if something goes wrong? What if I make a mistake that costs us the game?"

Harry's eyes softened as he spoke, "Listen, even the best players make mistakes sometimes. It's a part of the game, and it doesn't define y’as a player or a person. What matters is that y’give it your all, and I know y’will. Just remember why y’play this beautiful game in the first place—because y’love it and y’passionate about it."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. "You're right. I do love football, and I've dreamed of playing at this level since I was a kid."

Harry's smile widened, and he nodded encouragingly. "Exactly. Hold onto that passion, and remember that no matter what happens out there, I'm proud of you. We all are—y’team, y’family, and y’fans. You're a champion, and nothing can take that away from you."

A surge of warmth and love filled your heart as you gazed into his eyes through the screen. "Thank you, H. I needed to hear that."

He chuckled softly. "Anytime, love. Now, go out there and show them what you're made of. Play with y’heart, and enjoy every moment. I'll be cheering for y’from here in Argentina."

Feeling a newfound sense of confidence, you smiled back at him. "I will. And I'll make sure to FaceTime you right after the match to share the joy of victory with you."

Harry grinned, teasingly adding, "And if it doesn't go as planned, I'll be here to give y’a’virtual hug and tell y’how amazing y’are regardless."

You laughed, feeling the nerves starting to fade away. "Deal. Thank you for being my rock, Harry."

"Always, love. Now, go conquer that pitch and make us all proud!" he cheered, giving you a virtual thumbs-up.

liked by username, username and 931 others

ynandhazupdates, Photos of (Y/N) in training ahead of the euro 2022 semi final taking place tonight! via @lionesses

tagged, yourinstagram

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username, I swear to god if we don’t get to the final I’ll actually cry.

username, her smile is adorable

username, she always manages to spot the camera.

username, just like her husband

username, soulmate type shit!

username, it’s a styles thing. 🤷‍♀️

username, her muscles in the first picture 🤭

username, how can someone whose running about in the sun look so good?

username, is harry going to be there?

username, he’s on tour!

username, he’s a lucky lad.

username, god, she’s gorgeous!

username, women playing football still doesn’t seem right to me.

username, it’s 2022 stop being sexist!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The stadium was alive with energy as the Semi Final of Euro 2022 kicked off. You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you took your position on the pitch, representing the England women's team in this crucial match. The cheers of the passionate crowd fueled your determination, and you were ready to give it your all.

In the twenty-eighth minute, the moment you had been waiting for arrived. Your teammate, Beth Mead, skillfully passed you the ball. With lightning reflexes, you controlled it with your foot and set off on a sprint, leaving the Swedish opposition players trailing behind you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you dribbled with precision and agility, feeling the ball close to your feet, like an extension of yourself.

As you neared the goal, the defenders closed in, but you stayed focused, keeping your eyes on the prize. With a quick feint to the right, you left them off balance, and in one swift motion, you found yourself in a clear path towards the net.

The crowd roared in anticipation as you aimed and unleashed a powerful shot. The ball soared through the air, and the goalkeeper leaped desperately, but there was no stopping it. The net bulged, and the stadium erupted into an explosion of cheers and applause.

You could hardly believe it—your goal had just given your team the lead in the crucial Semi Final. Your teammates rushed toward you, their faces filled with joy and excitement. They tackled you with hugs and shouts of triumph, celebrating the incredible moment together.

Amid the euphoria, you basked in the joy of the moment. The elation was contagious, and you felt the unity and camaraderie of the team enveloping you. All the hard work, the training, and the sacrifices had led to this moment, and you couldn't be prouder to share it with your teammates and represent your country on this grand stage.

As the cheers of the crowd echoed in your ears, you took a moment to soak it all in. The sight of your team celebrating, the sound of the fans chanting your name, and the feeling of achievement coursing through your veins—it was a moment you would cherish forever.

The Semi Final was far from over, but your goal had set the tone for the rest of the match. With renewed determination, you returned to your position, ready to continue the battle with your team by your side. As the whistle blew, you knew that whatever the outcome, this moment would be etched in your heart—a testament to the magic of the beautiful game and the incredible journey that brought you here.

liked by username, username and 7,319 others

ynandhazupdates, HARRY RUNNING ON STAGE TODAY CELBRATING (Y/N) SCORING IN THE SEMI FINAL OF THE WOMENS EUROS! via @username

tagged, harrystyles

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username, stop right now, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!

username, he’s so supportive of her.

username, I’m in tears.🥹

username, he looks so happy!

username, omfg, what??

username, he’s actually so in love. 😭

username, i want a love like there’s so bad

username, such a proud husband.

username, the whole tour crew cheering for (Y/N)🥹🥹

username, i want a hype man like him

username, if my husband ain’t like that i don’t want him.

username, preach!!

harrystyles via instagram stories.

Sitting in the changing room after the intense Semi Final, you were still buzzing with excitement from your team's victory. As you changed into your England tracksuit, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that you had played a significant role in securing the win. The camaraderie among your teammates was palpable, and everyone was in high spirits.

Just as you were about to head to the coach back to the hotel, your teammate Rachel Daly approached you with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Hey, I've got something to show you," she said, holding her phone out for you to see.

Curious, you took the phone, and Rachel played a video that a fan had posted online. As you watched, your eyes widened in surprise and delight. It was a clip of your husband's fans watching the Semi Final on a big screen he had set up on stage before his show in Argentina. The atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the excitement emanating from the screen.

Then, the moment that made your heart soar arrived. The video showed the crowd erupting with cheers and applause as you scored the opening goal. And there, in the midst of the ecstatic fans, was your husband, running across the stage, celebrating your goal with unbridled joy. His arms were punching the air in a gesture of triumph, and his infectious smile lit up the entire arena.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

30th July, 2022.

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ynandhazupdates, Harry spotted arriving at Heathrow this morning!

tagged, harrystyles.

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username, the arm. 💪💪

username, what’s in that damn tote bag?

username, smash.

username, is that the daddy hat that he got on stage?

username, yeah, he’s probs gonna show it to (Y/N)!

username, the tank top.

username, daddies got a private jet.

username, do y’all think he’s going to the euro final?

username, most likely. 🤷‍♀️

username, the most supportive husband!

username, his hair. 🤭🤭

username, fuck my soul.

username, being a supportive husband is what we like to seen

username, ^^

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

31st July, 2022.

Today was the day.

It was the euro 2022 final.

In the back of the taxi that was cruising along the streets of London to Wembley, Harry sat quietly, his mind seemingly occupied with thoughts.

His mother, Anne, noticed his unease and gently placed a hand on his arm. "Harry, darling, is everything alright?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

When England made it to the final, there was no doubt that Anne was missing you play, you were like a daughter to her so she knew she had to be there.

Gemma would have been there as well but she was currently on holiday with her boyfriend, Michal.

Harry hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to share his worries with his mother. Finally, he decided to open up.

“M’just feeling a bit nervous, Mum," he admitted. "Today's game means s’much to (Y/N), and I can't help but worry about how she'll handle it if the team don't win."

Anne smiled reassuringly, understanding her son's concern for his partner.

“Love, I know how much (Y/N) means to you, and I'm sure she knows it too," she said comfortingly. "She's a strong and resilient person. Win or lose, she'll be alright, and you'll be there to support her."

Harry nodded, appreciating his mother's words of wisdom.

“Y’right, Mum. I just want this victory f’her so badly. She's worked so hard, and I don't want her t’feel disheartened if they don't make it," he said, sincerity in his voice.

Anne patted his hand softly. "I understand your feelings, dear. But remember, it's a team effort, and they’ve all put there best into getting to this final. Focus on playing your best and enjoying the game. The outcome is not entirely in your hands, and that's okay."

As the taxi continued its journey to the stadium, Harry and Anne talked more about the match, memories of their own experiences flooding their minds. Anne shared stories of his childhood football games, reminding him of the joy he felt on the field. It lightened Harry's heart, and he started to relax, ready to face the game with a newfound perspective.

liked by gemmastyles, masonmount and 25,931 others

lionesses, Your #Lionesses for the #WEURO2022 final!

view all comments.

username, yasss, ellen white is starting!

username, you’ve got this girlies!

louist91, it’s coming home.

username, nahhhhhh, he commented!

username, LOU BEAR!

username, is he there aswell?

username, the best players!

username, (Y/N). Captain, Leader, Legend.

harrystyles liked this comment.

username, Earps is defo gonna get angry at one point during the match today. 😭

username, COME ON ENGLAND!

username, why is russo not starting?

username, she should have started over Styles tbf. 🤷‍♀️

username, russo is a forward and styles is a defender, there completely different positions.

username, lotte wubben-moy, wubben-moy! lotte wubben moy!!

annetwist, ❤️❤️

username, you’ve got this ladies!

username, (Y/N) is a right smash.

harrystyles liked this comment.

username, Sweet Caroline!

username, DUN DUN DUN!!!

As the Women's Euro 2022 final reached its intense 62nd minute, the tension on the field was palpable. The score was zero-zero and both teams were in a tight battle, and you could feel the weight of the moment as you received the ball in the midfield.

With determination in your eyes, you spotted your teammate Ella Toone making a daring run towards the German opposition goal.

You swiftly passed the ball to her, watching as she skillfully controlled it, dribbling past defenders with finesse. The German goalkeeper, sensing the threat, came out of her goal to narrow the angle. In that heartbeat, you knew Ella had an opportunity to make something special happen.

As the goalkeeper advanced, Ella made a split-second decision and skillfully chipped the ball over her head. The crowd gasped as they saw the ball floating towards the net. Time seemed to slow as everyone's eyes followed its trajectory

And then, the stadium erupted in cheers as the ball gracefully sailed into the net, scoring a remarkable goal. You couldn't help but burst with pride as you saw Ella celebrating her incredible achievement. Running towards her, you joined the team in congratulating her.

"Holy moly, Ella! That was absolutely brilliant!" you exclaimed, beaming with excitement.

Ella's face lit up with a mix of joy and disbelief as You pulled her into a tight hug.

Tears of happiness glistened in Ella's eyes as she embraced you back.

The team's celebration continued as you all rallied around Ella, knowing that her goal had put you one step closer to becoming champions. The remaining minutes of the match were intense, with both teams giving their all to secure victory.

In the 79th minute, the unthinkable happened. Despite your best efforts as a defender, the German team managed to break through England's defensive line and score a goal. As they celebrated, a heavy feeling of disappointment settled within you, and you couldn't help but feel responsible for not preventing the goal.

Feeling crestfallen, you stood near your position, replaying the moment in your mind, questioning if there was something more you could have done. That's when your teammate and fellow defender, Millie Bright, approached you with a reassuring smile.

"Hey, it's not your fault," Millie said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "They were just too quick.”

You looked at Millie, thankful for her comforting words but still feeling a pang of guilt.

"I know, but I should have been faster, more alert," you replied, your voice tinged with disappointment.

Millie shook her head gently.

"Listen, we all have moments like these in football. It's part of the game," she said reassuringly. "You've been an amazing defender throughout the tournament, and one goal doesn't define your skills or our team's efforts."

As you listened to Millie's encouraging words, a sense of relief washed over you. She was right; football was full of ups and downs, and even the best players experienced setbacks. It was essential to support each other and learn from every situation.

Millie continued, "Remember, we still have time to turn things around. Let's focus on regrouping, communicating, and giving our all for the rest of the match. We can do this together."

The game was in full swing when the the next ever occurred. As you skillfully controlled the ball, a German player launched a hard tackle, taking out your legs from under you. You fell to the ground, clutching your shin in pain, wincing at the impact.

Your teammates rushed over to check on you, concern etched on their faces.

“Are you okay? Can you stand up?" Georgia Stanway asked, reaching out to offer support.

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to assess the extent of the injury.

"It hurts, but I think I can stand," you replied, gritting your teeth through the discomfort.

The referee, witnessing the tackle, quickly ushered the medics over to assess the situation. The medics approached you, kneeling beside you to examine your leg carefully.

"Can you tell us where it hurts the most?" they asked gently.

You pointed to your shin, wincing as they touched the affected area. "Right here, it's quite sore," you explained, trying to keep a brave face.

After a thorough assessment, the medics gave you some encouraging news.

“Luckily, there doesn't seem to be any major injury. It might be painful, but you're still able to play," they said, offering a reassuring smile.

In the private box overlooking the pitch, Harry sat with his mother Anne and your parents, engrossed in the Women's Euro 2022 final. As the game reached its intense moments, he couldn't help but feel the tension rising in the air.

And then, it happened. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the brutal tackle unfold on the field. From where he sat, he witnessed the German player taking out your legs, causing you to fall to the ground in agony, clutching your shin.

"What the hell?" Harry exclaimed, jumping up from his seat in reaction to the rough challenge. His heart raced with concern for you, seeing you in pain from the tackle.

Anne, equally worried, reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“Take a deep breath, love. Let's hope the medics can assess the situation quickly," she said soothingly, sharing his concern for your well-being.

Your parents also watched with anxious expressions, their hearts going out to you on the field.

"I hope she's okay. She's a tough one, but that looked harsh," your dad said, his voice reflecting the worry in his eyes.

As the referee and medics rushed to your side, Harry's gaze remained fixed on the field, anxious for any signs of improvement. He wanted to jump down and rush to your aid, but he knew the medics were well-equipped to handle the situation.

"Y’think she'll be alright?" Harry asked, his voice trembling slightly with concern.

Anne squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Let's trust the medics to take care of her. She's a strong player, and I'm sure she'll do her best to get back on her feet," she said, trying to comfort her son.

Amidst the tension in the box, the medics gave their assessment, and it was a relief to hear that the injury wasn't too severe.

“She can still play," Your dad informed the group, echoing the news from the medics.

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ynandhazupdates, Harry spotted at the Women’s Euro Final today!

tagged, harrystyles

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username, we all love a supportive husband! 👏👏

username, the girl infront is totally oblivious to who is sitting behind her. 😭

username, that would definitely be me.

username, Jeff is there aswell?

username, his face. he’s like a love sick puppy!

username, he’s sat next to Anne. 🥹

username, this photo was taken when (Y/N) got tackled and the medics had to come onto the pitch.

username, holy shit is she okay? I’m not watching the match because of the time zones.

username, yeah she’s still on the pitch playing!

username, he’s so smitten by her.

username, he’s wearing an England shirt. 😭😭

username, the wedding ring is making me sad.

username, same girl, same.

In the intense 110th minute, with the score still tied, your teammate Lauren Hemp delivered a corner kick. The atmosphere was charged with excitement as players from both teams crowded near the goal line, vying for an opportunity to make a decisive play.

Amongst the hustle and bustle, Chloe Kelly managed to find a small opening amidst the sea of players. With precision and finesse, she gently touched the ball, guiding it over the goal line. As the ball nestled into the back of the net, she let out a mix of joy and relief, starting to celebrate. However, amidst the chaos, she wasn't entirely sure if the goal was inside or not.

In that moment of uncertainty, the referee made the crucial decision, pointing to the centre circle and giving the goal to your team. The stadium erupted in a thunderous cheer as the realisation dawned that your team was now in the lead.

Seeing Chloe's celebration begin, you and the rest of the team joined in the excitement, rushing towards her. The pure elation of the moment overcame any doubt, and you all embraced Chloe, celebrating her crucial goal. Her shirt flew off in the midst of the jubilation, leaving her in her sports bra, but in that moment, it didn't matter. It was a raw display of emotion and camaraderie, and everyone was ecstatic.

Chloe beamed, tears of happiness mingling with her smile. "I couldn't believe it went in! We're winning!" she said, her voice filled with disbelief and elation.

The entire team shared in the celebration, hugging, cheering, and jumping in unison. This was the moment that could potentially seal your team's victory in the prestigious tournament. It was a culmination of all the hard work, dedication, and teamwork throughout the competition.

Amidst the jubilant chaos, the referee restored order, and Chloe managed to retrieve her shirt, chuckling at the unplanned but unforgettable moment. As you all returned to your positions, the renewed energy and spirit fueled your determination to defend the lead until the final whistle.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As the final whistle echoed through the stadium, marking the end of the Women's Euro 2022 final, a wave of emotions washed over you. The deafening sound of cheers and roars from the crowd engulfed the air, creating an electric atmosphere that seemed to vibrate through your entire being.

With tears welling up in your eyes, you fell to the ground, facing the sky, and sobbed uncontrollably. It was a moment of overwhelming joy, relief, and pure elation, all merging into a cathartic release of emotions.

You couldn't believe it – you had won the final! The realisation of your team's triumph, after an arduous journey and hard-fought battles, was a dream come true. The sense of accomplishment and pride was indescribable.

Around you, your teammates embraced each other tightly, tears of joy streaming down their faces as well. The collective effort, the sacrifices, and the sheer dedication had paid off. You were champions, and the world recognized it.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, you took a moment to breathe in the significance of the victory. The memories of the challenges faced during the tournament, the long hours of training, and the unwavering support of your team and loved ones flooded your mind. This victory was not just for you, but for everyone who had been a part of this incredible journey.

Harry, watching from the stands, saw you on the ground and knew the tears were tears of joy. His heart swelled with pride, witnessing your triumph from a distance. He couldn't wait to rush down to the field and embrace you, to share this moment of pure bliss together.

As you wiped the tears from your eyes, your teammates gathered around, offering hugs and congratulations. They understood the magnitude of this achievement, and each embrace felt like a warm embrace of validation and camaraderie.

liked by niallhoran, harrykane and 67,310 others

lionesses, 🏆 OUR ENGLAND. OUR CHAMPIONS. 🏆

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username, YASSSSSS

username, CHLOE KELLY!

username, I’m sobbing.

harrystyles, well done, ladies.

username, omfg.

username, there’s tears in my eyes.😭

username, you did us all proud.

username, when Kelly took the top off. 😭😭

masonmount, what a team!

username, ayo!

username, the Germans should have won. 🤷‍♀️

username, when the final whistle got blown, I almost fainted.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One by one, each member of the team received their well-deserved medals. Your heart swelled with pride as you watched your teammates' faces light up with joy and their hands clutching their medals tightly.

As the captain, you were the last one to receive your medal. The weight of responsibility and pride bore heavily on your shoulders as you stepped forward to accept the recognition. The medal felt like a symbol of the incredible journey you had all embarked on together.

With the medal gleaming around your neck, you turned your attention to the next significant moment—the presentation of the trophy. With steady steps, you made your way to the trophy stand, knowing that this was the culmination of your team's hard work and dedication.

The trophy, a symbol of triumph and achievement, glistened in the spotlight. As you reached out to hold it, a surge of emotions washed over you. This was not just your victory, but a testament to the unwavering spirit and unity of the entire team.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face your teammates, who were lined up on the podium, waiting for this unforgettable moment. The joy and camaraderie amongst the team were palpable, each player beaming with pride.

Standing in the middle of your teammates, you lifted the trophy high above your head. The stadium erupted in a thunderous cheer as confetti filled the air, creating a dazzling display of colors. It felt like time stood still as you basked in the glory of this triumphant moment.

The deafening roar of the crowd was music to your ears, a testament to the love and support you had received throughout this journey. Each cheer felt like a nod to the sacrifices, sweat, and tears that had gone into reaching this pinnacle of success.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After the trophy celebration, you stood on the pitch, still buzzing with adrenaline and the overwhelming emotions of the victory. Your teammates were exchanging hugs and high-fives, relishing the moment together. As you were talking with one of your teammates, Beth Mead suddenly interrupted, "Hey, (Y/N) look who's behind you."

You turned around, somewhat incredulous because you were sure Harry was still on tour in Argentina. But there he was, walking towards you with a big smile on his face, his eyes shining with pride and love. The sight of him standing there, present for this unforgettable moment, took your breath away.

You ran straight over to him, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks. All the excitement and emotion that had been building up throughout the match now found a release as you sobbed into Harry's neck, holding him tightly. He wrapped his arms around you, comforting and embracing you, knowing how much this victory meant to you.

"I can't believe you're here," you managed to whisper amidst the tears, your voice filled with astonishment and happiness.

Harry chuckled softly, his hand gently caressing your back. "Surprise! I wouldn't have missed this f’anything," he replied, his voice warm and reassuring.

Through the tears, you looked up at him, trying to make sense of the moment.

“I thought you were still on tour," you said, your heart filled with gratitude for his presence.

"I had to be here to support you," Harry said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Y’were incredible out there, and m’so, so proud of you."

His words only made you cry harder, but they were tears of overwhelming joy and love. You buried your face back into his neck, feeling the comfort of his embrace, knowing that he was here to share this special moment with you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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harrystyles, My Lioness.

tagged, yourinstagram

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username, ‘my’ 🥹🥹

username, so proud of her!

username, champions of Europe, you know what we are!

username, a moment I’ll never forget.

username, he hardly ever posts (Y/N)

username, it’s came home!

yourinstagram, my biggest supporter. 🫶

liked by harrystyles.

harrystyles, always have and always will be.

username, EEEEEKKKK

username, couple goals!

username, if the women can do it, why couldn’t the men?

username, 🏆🏆

niallhoran, it should have been Ireland in the final.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[thecynthh]

smart ass - M.S

synopsis - matt’s not doing to well with his schooling but is determined to get his degree and pass his classes. one essay which is a huge part of their grade haunts him with a bad mark, luckily y/n is willing to him him

notes - college setting, no smut yet, more of matt in the next part, hopefully a long series !

author notes - heyyyyy so this is my first series i guess, i hope you guys like this and i promise not to take too long with the next part. love all u babes and j hope u have a nice new years if you celebrate it!

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

a notification appears on my laptop, new grade from Ms.Garcia. shrugs and groans rung throughout the lecture hall, clicking on the notification a website pops up onto my desktop.

*97%,A+ good job y/n keep up the good work*

what were people so upset about, i thought to myself. my shoulder gets tapped by the person beside me.

“oh my god this old woman just hates me,” madi cries from beside me. i peak over at madi’s screen seeing a whopping 54%. i dont understand how that happens to a girl like madi, she was so smart and didn’t deserve that grade. i knew she didnt deserve that, i read her essay myself !

my hand lands on hers, “ okay that’s actually insane for you to be getting a 54, your essay was so good?!?”

everyone's head shoots up to the women below the many rows of seats, “so as you see at your grades only ms y/n got a good grade. i'm willing to let everyone else rewrite their exam and hand it in by next week if you do not like your grade.” the decrepit woman just packs her bag after saying that and begins to leave the room. everyone replicated her and began to pack up their belongings, including me.

madi and i leave the large space and stand in the hall just outside. “oh fuck, i promised nick id meet him after our class, ill see you later babes.” she ghosts a kiss on my cheek as i do the same to her greeting her goodbye. i grab my phone to check the time but to mostly look busy before i head somewhere else.

large footsteps creep up behind me and i hear my name being called. “y/n? thats your name right?” a man around 5’8 is standing in front of me. a little startled i take a second to reply.

“uhm yes that's me” i say replying to him. i notice his outfit, simple black cargos with a baggy sweater over it saying RANSOM with angel wings projecting off of the word.

“s-so i was wondering if you were willing to help me with the essay, you know, maybe study the material more?” he says while slightly looking down and looking very nervous.

“oh yea! of course i’ll bring over my notes and materials that i got from Ms.Garcia. does friday work for you? i have work tomorrow so i’ll be busy after class…” i cringe at my own sentence.

i knew who matt was, he was quite the popular guy and a social media influencer who made a lot of money. he didn’t have to exactly work a normal job like i did. although i don’t blame him, i’ve watched some of their videos and if i’m being honest they are pretty funny. i’ve slowly started to keep up with them ever since i was introduced to them by madi at an influencer party where she and the triplets got invited.

“mhm friday works, you can swing by my house, my brothers won’t be home that night. thanks for this by the way.” he says with his face softening, he definitely seemed more relaxed after i said yes.

“okay then! it’s a date- oh well not really a date, but i mean date as in like… oh you get it.” i trip over my words and finally take in his features. he has a beautiful jawline and scruffy that would feel so good on my-

he chuckles at my mishap “yeah it’s a date just lemme give you my number i’ll text you the address soon.” i present my phone to him as he begins to type out his phone number into his phone, naming his self matt s with a panda emoji next to it.

he’s still typing a little after he names himself, thinking nothing of it i just let him place my phone back into my hand at him as i wave to him bidding him goodbye.

i let my shoulders relax after i see him turn a corner and is out of my line of sight. god why am i so bad at talking to guys, that was straight embarrassing, i thought to myself.

——————

thursday afternoon

madi and i met for coffee after our classes were finished, we caught up ate some small pastries and drank coffee, the usual. but once i told her about what happened yesterday….

“YOU WHAT??” madi says, nearly snorting out her coffee from her nose.

“i agreed to help tutor matt so he can pass this class” i repeat to her seeing zero problem with this.

“so you wanna tutor him, at his house, without his brothers home, at night.” madi tells me in a “matter of fact” tone

“well if you say it like that it sounds like i’m dancing with the devil over here.” i say sarcastically still not seeing the problem.

“you. matt. alone. even after what happened at the party?” madi retorts bringing up the party again.

“okay i still have no fucking clue what you mean by matt was eyefucking me at that party, i was enjoying myself and he was more or less just observing everyone at the party.” god just hearing myself make me realize what is happening.

“you know, just good luck and please don’t be so naive, i don’t want you to get hurt.” madi says in such a sincere tone.

“i’m glad you are at least okay with the whole idea of it, but i gotta go, i have a shift in an hour.” i tell her collecting my things, she stands up and ghosts a kiss on my cheak.

“kk love ya girl, i’ll see you tomorrow.” madi says waving me off before i become late for my shift.

let’s just hope she has at least a little bit of faith in me.

authors note - YAYAYAYAYAY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS !!!

[ellsieee]

So. Now that I've seen the official release of ep 4, I have thoughts. And lots of feelings. But first I will say that I'm glad Sukfilm added the jagi reveal from the uncut to the beginning of the free version. It's too important to the plot to leave out.

So proud of Jaemin for standing up to that crazy bitch Sol/Sori. (They really need to stick with one name to make things less confusing. 😅) I hate that the threat of it getting out that Jaemin is gay would threaten his chances of getting a job. I also hate that Suk went with the evil woman getting in the way of true love trope, but since they did, I HATE SOL. So much.

Sol got to Jaemin. 😭 I want to shake Jaemin and tell him so what? Your man is hot, men and women would be jealous. Since Nami is rich, he can pay for stuff because he will spoil you rotten. Just mooch off him! (jk 👀 jk👀)

As much as it hurts, I do understand Jaemin. I know that the main reason he broke up with Nami was because of Sol's threat, but I feel like Jaemin finding out that Nami's not the struggling writer he thought he was, put a dent in his pride and made him feel a bit inferior. He thought they were struggling together, only to find that Nami works for funsies.

I felt terrible for Nami this whole episode. He had no idea what was going on. Jaemin went from loving boyfriend to asking for a break up with no indication anything was wrong in between. The whole episode he was confused, but smiling and trying to coax Jaemin regardless. 🥺

A freaking knife in my heart. 😭 I really wanted to start crying when Jaemin said "take care". The acting was so good.

ARGHHHH. You can find me ugly crying in the corner. Nami is trying to fight for them but Jaemin won't use his words. They had such good communication before this. I wish Jaemin had told Nami about Sol and about his insecurities with the wealth/power dynamics in their relationship. PLEASE. When Jaemin starts letting go of Nami's hand and Nami subtly shook his head in a "no, don't" way, I groaned a noooooooo out loud. I was way too into this.

I have been heartbroken over this ending since Thursday, but now that I've had time to kind of calm down, I don't think this is the end. MDL had this series as 2 eps, extended to 4, but I don't recall Suk ever confirming or saying anything about the number of episodes. In the last shot, Jaemin is letting go of Nami's hand, but he hasn't completely let go yet. In episode 5, Nami refuses to let Jaemin go and grabs his hand again and forces him to have a heart to heart. They talk it out, get back together, tell Sol off, and then have a hot make out session in the uncut. Then they lived happily ever after. 🤡

[yellowocaballero]

hi!! loved New Wave & its Jason addition, was wondering if you have any Opinions about the weird characterization of Jason in the comics/fandom?

Oh Jesus. You are talking to a certified fanon Batfam hater jkaljdsfkljsdf. In some senses, yes I do.

I see more 'good or at least interesting' depictions of Jason than I do pretty much any other Batfam character. A lot of the best Batfam fic has an extremely strong Jason POV. From a group dynamics perspective, having a Jason is important. Jason is important: his death irrevocably altered Batman as a series, marked a serious turning point in kid sidekicks and comics as a whole, and created a few pretty good storylines.

It's hard to say 'what's the real Jason characterization', because he constantly cross-contaminates himself. Jason's character is little more than the lens through which he's viewed, and what comes afterwards. Pre-Crisis Jason is indistinguishable from Dick. Post-Crisis Jason isn't that different either, until they decided to kill him, at which point they very quickly gave him all of his character traits we know him for today. Retrospectives on Jason for twenty years were of both this pre-post-humorous angry/impulsive version and The Dead Kid nostalgia, and now they're colored by his Red Hood anger and 'glory days' nostalgia. And then we've had the Batfam-ization of Batman comics and none of that matters anyway, because they're blorbos now.

@lazuliquetzal has remarked several times that the real problem with Red Hood is that you can use him for drama, like, once or twice - that he's a very good foil character for one or two very specific storylines. I agree. I think further usage of the RH as a villain should be separated from the Batfam, since you can't reconcile his pro-killing stance with the Batfam non-killing stance. Give him a different story if you want, but I think it's hard to slot the actual Red Hood character back into the Batfam. Not even sure that you should.

I think the main thing for me is that I don't understand why the 'good end' is always 'Bring Jason Home!' - why reconciliation is mandatory, why what we want is him moving back into the manor and having family dinners. Why. He's 19. Let him live by himself in his shitty apartment and smoke weed and shittalk his dad. He's an adult, he doesn't have to talk to any of you if he doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to. There is more than one way for a family to function, and it doesn't have to look like family dinners.

Regarding fic: obviously the softening and defanging is boring. There's an entire genre of stories where 'Jason hates Tim until he actuall meets him, at which point he's blasted by Tim's #woobie and starts taking care of him", but in the '10s the biggest conflict with Jason is that he irrationally hates a fourteen year old who did nothing wrong completely to the point where he keeps on trying to kill him. For a decade he was just melodramatic yelling. I think people are more interested in writing cute dynamics than they are characters, and Jason is forced into the sympathetic family dynamic as a result. Comics now do this too, because, fandomization,

Young Jason stories are also entirely whump, which is obviously boring. I've mentioned this before, but a big part of my thoughts behind the NW!Jason fic are just that there are a lot of 'Jason comes to the manor' fics, and in very little of them do Jason and Bruce actually like each other. It's pure whump and family bonding over any actual interest in the characters. Thing about whump is just - put in literally any character there, it doesn't matter. Pick anyone. Who cares.

This is all ignoring the number one biggest thing for me, which is: the fandom is obsessed with Jason, and I am sick of Jason, it is all Jason. Even Tim is worse off in comparison, because he gets moe blob'd so Jason can take care of him. Go write the women. Seriously. Jason's a whump magnet and it's exhausting, go write Cass Cain having a character arc.

TL;DR: Batfam fanfic only cares about cute brotherly fluff and whump and it is so fucking bad, man.

[canarymithrun]

Everyone and their brother has analyzed the succubus chapter but I want to throw my hat into the ring too, specifically on looking at the hunting techniques the succubi show

The succubi seem to have two primary forms of getting prey which are 1. Ambush and 2. Swarming

Starting with Chilchuck, he gets the classic succubus form, attractive women who wanna kiss you. Chilchuck has experience with succubi and is well aware of what to look for, so the mind games we see the succubi use on other characters probably wouldn't be effective. As a result the succubi go after him as a swarm, no need for fancy tricks beyond looking hot because they're trying to overwhelm him in numbers

In the Senshi's Journal portion of the new adventurer's bible we finally learn what Senshi's succubus appeared as (kind of). The details are vague but we can infer that this isn't someone Senshi was romantically attracted to but someone who was important to him in childhood that he misses dearly, a similar strategy to what we see with Izutsumi later. Putting together what happened is fairly straightforward, Senshi was caught alone and the succubus ambushed him. It being a one on one confrontation gave it the opportunity to rely on more mind games more

Marcille's is of course this lady Oscar looking elf. It's easy to write this one off as a pure physical attraction appearance like Chilchuck's but I think it's more than that. This succubus specifically takes after character(s) from the dalitan book series (best guess is it's meant to be General Hareus but we don't know enough about the series to know if it's them specifically or a mix of characters). Marcille is a known romantic but she got into this specific series because it has a half elf character, and that character being well written and reflective of her own struggles made the series very dear to her. Because of this, I think the succubus is also preying on her desire to be accepted for who she is. It's using a combination of the techniques seen with Chilchuck and Senshi, most likely to supplement the fact that it can't perfectly ambush her.

Laios' succubus is an interesting one, especially because he almost catches it because it takes the form of Marcille who he's not attracted to. I remember thinking at the time "why would the succubus not just appear as a succubus, Laios would love to learn more about any monster and their magic would make him forget the danger" but that's because his succubus goes fully psychological in its ambush. The alluring aspect of his succubus is not just that it can turn him into a monster, but that it can turn all his friends into monsters and also they all love that outcome. The succubus knows his desire to be inhuman isn't enough to lower his guard, he also wants to be fully accepted by his friends and have shared interests. (Which for the record I think they do, this is just a clearly very deeply rooted insecurity)

Izutsumi is where I think the succubi's hunting tech really shine through though. They start off with a single succubus, trying to ambush Izutsumi with about as deep of a psychological cut as you can get for her. When that doesn't work because of her two souls they immediately switch into fully swarming her, dropping any mind games and going fully for numbers.

The succubi aren't a species I felt we needed more explanation for in canon, but I am vaguely curious which hunting technique is more common since it's pretty evenly split for the group

[pagannatural]

2.12 Night Shifter

-Although Dean is impersonating an FBI officer when the jewelry counter girl asks him what it’s like, his answer is a truthful description of his life: “it’s dangerous, and the secrets we gotta keep…but mostly it’s lonely.” This wouldn’t be anything wincest except that he looks guiltily over at Sam twice while getting her number. The theme of loneliness between them and the brothers’ yearning for closeness from each other has come up several times this season, most obviously from Sam needing Dean to open up to him. But Dean is feeling it too. Sam was hanging off of him drunk last episode and Dean walked away from him so it makes sense that he’s trying to get someone else in his bed, and clearly thinking about Sam while he does it.

-Sam lies to Ronald. In the past he’s been the one who wants to tell civs the truth, while Dean lies. Dean’s instincts appear to be right here, and Sam’s sour impression with Ronald becomes an obstacle moving forward in this episode. It serves to highlight that Sam is still just not as experienced at this. They’re both really good with people and have high interpersonal intelligence, just in different ways.

-Dean feels “naked” without weapons. He’s been living in fear since he was four so that makes sense but it’s so bleak.

-Dean takes control of the situation with Ronald and Sam looks scared for him, then miserable when he’s locked in the vault and separated from Dean.

One of the bank employees asks “who is that man?” and Sam says “he’s my brother” as if that answers her question even a little bit. She wistfully says he’s brave and Sam looks even more miserable. He’s so sick of women fawning over his brother.

-a second scene of this woman fawning over Dean at Sam! I could watch this all day. Sam becomes increasingly perturbed with each passing moment. Listening to someone wax on about the person you’re secretly and wretchedly in love with but can’t have is terrible but especially when it’s someone who doesn’t even know them. He looks like he’s holding back on an emotion. Sam could just be irritated by the way Dean is overshadowing him, but I would expect him to respond by rolling his eyes or looking irritated rather than conflicted and sad.

Sam looks up to Dean. He doesn’t admit it until later on in the series, but Dean is his hero. His hero and guardian and brother and the only one who can kill him.

-Sam bumps his shoulder against Dean’s on his way out of the bank vault. He didn’t need to do that, there was space. People like to accidentally touch their crushes. And right in front of the fawning woman, like a cat rubbing its cheeks against its human’s legs to mark him.

-Sam points out that Dean is wanted by the police and is visibly upset. I love that Sam is the one panicking about this. Dean is too but he’s trying to be brave and save face for Sam.

-oh this is where they walk up to each other like they’re going to kiss. They’re making eye contact as they get really close and Sam kind of half circles Dean, looking into his eyes. It has the same vibes as the scene from Silver Linings Playbook where the love interest is teaching the main character a dance and instructs him on how to walk to her like he’s in love with her. You can see Dean moving his lips telling Sam he knows who the shifter is, but no sound, making this moment feel even more private

-the way Hendrickson says “there’s a monster in the bank” and then it cuts to Sam gives me chills

-Hendrickson mentioning that Sam is “the bonnie to your Clyde” makes Dean smirk. Sam is his wife. “That part’s true”. They could’ve said the butch cassidy to your Sundance or something but they went with a romantic couple and had Dean smile like aw yeah, that’s us, like he’s still so happy to have his baby back with him on the road.

-“they’re dangerous, smart, and expertly trained” god they really ARE. This show really earns their reputation.

-Dean is mid-action bringing a knife down on what he thinks is the shifter when Sam says in a near-whisper “Dean waitwaitwait”and Dean pauses to look over his shoulder. He’ll do anything Sam says. Sam’s gentle protest is more important than killing the shifter.

-Sam fights the swat team duo and wins. They escape and drive away knowing that they’re fucked and being hunted by the FBI. Their ascension from petty criminals to most wanted outlaws is so good because they are dangerous and fucked up and doomed and yet they’re together. I also love that Sam solved Dean’s problem by getting the uniforms and gear off of the two SWAT guys. He’s protective of Dean.