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hippopotamusdreamer · 6 months ago

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SKZ Code: Behind the Scenes

genre. A (heavy), F (eventually at the end)

warnings. Cheating, gaslighting, arguing, grabbing, cursing, swearing

additional notes. Female! Reader | You/Your pronouns, reader is aged between Hyunjin and Han, includes all members of Stray Kids

pairing. Yoon Jeonghan x Reader, Platonic!Felix x Reader, ot8 x 9th member reader

w.c. 7.6K

synopsis. Things get heated as emotional problems follow Y/N on set after an overdue encounter with her boyfriend. So what happens when something happens to triggers that fresh memory?

a/n. This is my first ever "published" kpop fic...be nice to me LMAO After having watched SKZ CODE ep. 40, that scene between Hyunjin and Han really stuck with me and just would not get out of my head, thus, this is the result. Constructive criticism would be nice, I feel like I added a lot of detail and it could get muddled and just become a wall of text, let me know what you think.

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This in no way reflects the actual persons involved/based in this fic, nor their actual character. This is purely fiction.

Friday, 11:53 PM, unknown club in Hongdae

There were people all around you. Many of which were bumping and grinding on each other as they enjoyed themselves in all corners of the darkened building. The bass that reverberated throughout the entire club you were currently in was thumping so loud that you couldn’t differentiate it from the wild beating of your heart. The thrumming in your body kept you grounded as you walked through the dense crowd. LEDs were blinking with multicolored filters and there were even a few fog machines that made the place more hip than cliché. Unfortunately, the constant flashing of said lights made the oncoming headache you had, worse.

God, you wanted to leave.

You weren’t even supposed to be there in the first place. But you had gotten a text from Nayeon an hour earlier that just had “???” and then immediately after a photo of what looked like your boyfriend looking really fucking cozy with some girl for someone who had supposedly stayed late for practice at his company that night.

So there you were, in some random club in Hongdae, trying to keep yourself from turning into a mess. Dating ban be damned, you weren’t the only idol that had tried to date in secret, and you certainly wouldn’t be the last. Yet in this instance, as you made your way to the second floor VIP area, maybe you should have just followed the rules instead…

Was sneaking out of your dorm at the risk of your reputation and that of your group to get some answers a good idea? Absolutely not. And having had left yours and Hyunjin’s nightly skin care routine; claiming a, now very real, headache to go there didn’t make it any better. You’d be in for the scolding of a lifetime if any of the guys were to find out you where you were.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Saturday, 12:45 AM, VIP lounge, unknown club in Hongdae

Moving past the bouncer of the VIP section, Nayeon walked up, having waited for you to come. One look at your distressed state and she quickly pulled you into a hug. Letting go and without another word she turned you to the left and you finally came face to face with what you had been hoping was misunderstanding until this very moment.

Just like it had been in the photo Nayeon had sent earlier, there he was. An overly relaxed looking Jeonghan manspreading in his seat as an unknown pretty girl, who looked far too comfortable for it to be their first time together like this, sat perched on his lap. You both watched as she leaned down to whisper in his ear, placing her hand none too subtly on his chest in the process. The grin he gave her as he wrapped his arm around her waist was what snapped you out of your stupor.

“Y/N, wait!” Nayeon yelled after you as you finally found the will to move forward. Certain now that the thrumming you felt earlier was your heart and not the music.

You were practically in front of them and yet they paid you no mind. In their own little bubble, ignorant to the storm inside you. “Yah… Yoon Jeonghan, are you fucking kidding me?”

Jeonghan glanced at you slowly, like he hadn’t a care in the world for whoever was interrupting him, only to sit up from his slouched position, eyes wide in shock. Instantly pulling away from the girl that had basically plastered herself onto him. “Y-Y/N! What are you doing here?” He managed to stutter out, frantically looking around, unsure of how you got there.

“I should be asking you the same thing. The PLEDIS building sure got a damn upgrade since the last time I was there,” the venom in your voice apparent even over the loud music.

“Baby, please, it’s not what it looks like!” He gets up from his seat to get into your personal bubble to be heard. You see from your peripheral that the girl he was with slink off to somewhere else. The booming of the music made it hard to hear him but it’s easy to tell that he was trying to make excuses. Jeonghan probably felt the same way because in the next instance he was grabbing you by the arm and all but dragged you to the outside smoking balcony. You try to jerk free but he’s stronger than you, though he is struggling.

“Let me go!”

The balcony is empty of other people surprisingly and the music is still loud out there but at least you’re able to hear each other better as he whorls around to face you.

“Not until you hear me out!”

“There’s nothing for me to hear! It looks like my boyfriend was about to get Real. Fucking. Personal. With. Someone. Else.” You punctuate each word with a jab to his chest.

He grabs on to the appendage only to then forcefully let go as he steps away from you. The tick in his jaw letting you know he was already annoyed.

Good. So were you.

“Look would you just chill the fuck out! We weren’t even doing anything.”

“…She was sitting on your lap and you weren’t doing shit about it…”

“So she was sitting on my lap, who the fuck cares?”

“I do! And as my “boyfriend”, you should have had some respect for your partner and not do shit like that! How do you think that makes me feel Jeong?”

“Oh my god babe, it’s not that serious,” he says as he rolls his eyes, as if exasperated. He raked a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his body language.

“Ok, so if you were to see me with some random guy in the position you were in just now, it’d be fine? Is what you’re telling me?” You question hypothetically while aggressively gesturing to the building behind you.

“Babe…”

“No, I want to understand. Cause you’re saying it wasn’t that bad right? So I can just go inside and find some guy to get with and you’ll be ok with it, right?”

“…You’re starting to piss me off.”

“News flash, I’m already pissed off. If Nayeon hadn’t—”

“Nayeon? Oh yeah,” he spat out as he rolled his neck, “now it makes so much fucking sense. You know she fucking hates me babe, hasn’t liked me since you introduced us eight months ago. I told you she’s not a good friend if she keeps trying to break us up.”

“Oh my god, not this again...,” Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“She’s always putting shit inside your head about us! She’ll say anything—"

“That’s not the fucking point right now! The point is that if you’re willing to do this in front of people, what kind of things are you doing when no one’s a-fucking-round! I know what I saw Jeonghan!”

“Jesus fuck! I made out with someone one time at a party and now you hold it over my head!”

“Because if DK and I hadn’t’ve caught you you probably would have slept with her! You practically had your hand up her dress that time!”

“She literally means nothing to me!”

“So, you’re willing to risk our relationship for nothing?”

“You’re being so dramatic right now for no reason!”

“No reason?” You were stunned.

“It’s not that big a deal! God, if I had known that you were going to be this insecure about our relationship, I wouldn’t have even asked you out!”

“I’m only like this because of what you did!”

The both of you were far too into your heated argument to notice that the door to the balcony open and close.

Only a split second passed as Jeonghan latched onto your arm tightly again and got in your face. You whimper out at the sudden contact knowing full well you’d most likely have a hand shaped bruise to cover up later.

You wince as pain radiates up your arm.

“Let’s get one thing fucking straight—”

But he never got the chance to finish his sentence as he was forcefully yanked away from you. The familiar multicolored hair of you bandmember stands in front of you as Jeonghan nurses his now bruising cheek.

“Felix…?” You whisper in wonder. What was he doing there? How did he know where to find you? Your heart picks up from the adrenaline of this night.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on her again, do you hear me?” Felix said evenly, glaring daggers at Jeonghan. Felix may have been shorter than him but in that moment, he was the most intimidating of the two.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Saturday, 2:19 AM, Felix’s bedroom – VOCALRACHA dorm

You sat in the back of the blacked-out car that Felix has pulled up in. The driver giving the two of you a moment as Felix comforts your hunched over crying form.

You had learned that when you had first confronted Jeonghan, Nayeon had a feeling something would go wrong and immediately went to call Felix. He had been in the middle of playing one of his games when he got the call and proceeded to also sneak out if his dorm to meet her at the front of the club. From there, he got the gist of the information and made his way upstairs with the thought of being a mediator. Only with what he witnessed, it quickly put an end to that idea.

It was Felix who had opened the door to the balcony in the middle of your argument and lost it when Jeonghan put his hands on you.

After that was a bit of a blur for you as Nayeon and Felix maneuvered you through the club discreetly in case someone saw and the media get a hold of that information. All you knew is that Jeonghan tried to come at the two of you but the 63 taekwondo medal holder put him in his place. Felix eventually managed to get you out of there safely but not before letting you confirm out loud that it was officially over between you and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan was too busy writhing in pain to argue back.

So here you were, finally allowing yourself to feel all the emotions of the night, crying into Felix as he pats your hair soothingly, protective arm wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry you had to come out h-here,” you hiccup.

“It’s alright Jellybean, I’m just glad I got there in time to stop him from doing anything more to you. How’s your arm?”

Sniffling, you pull back from him and shift your arm forward. He turns on the flashlight from his phone to see and the both of you come face to face with the repercussions of angry actions. As you thought, an outline of bruised digits were beginning to form like a bad tattoo on your bicep.

He sucks a breath between his teeth as he ghosts his fingers over the bruise. He’s silent as he tries to reel in his anger as he fights himself on going back inside and beating the shit out of the other idol.

But one look at your tear-stained face stops him.

“I’ll tell Chan and Lee Know-hyung that I called you over to our dorm later so they won’t go looking for you. That way you can just stay in my room.”

“Oh Lix, you don’t have—”

“No it’s ok, I don’t think you should be alone right now and I’m pretty sure you don’t want anyone to know about what happened.”

You stay quiet because you know he’s right. Reluctantly, you nod at his offer, grateful for the angel of your group.

He gives you a small sad smile as he brings you back into his arms, placing a comforting kiss on your head. Doesn’t say a word when you quietly start to cry again; just continues to pat your hair as the driver comes back into the car and takes the both of you back to Felix’s dorm.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You spent a total of 5 days in Felix’s room, crying. You finally managed to explain to Felix that you and Jeonghan had been secretly dating for about 10 months until then but that he had already cheated one you at least once, that you know of, before at an after party of one of the award shows. One of Jeonghan’s members had been with you when you caught him in the act and had gotten you out of there before a scene was caused.

You’d forgiven him after some heavy persuasion on his part but that left you feeling insecure about the relationship since it happened just about a month ago. He’d always had anger issues, but the night at the club was the first time he ever tried to grab you like that. When Nayeon eunnie messaged you that Friday night about seeing him with a different girl this time; you had to confront him before he had a chance to deny it.

You felt bad but Felix kept reassuring you that it was ok that you stayed there and that made you want to cry more. As he promised, he messaged the oldest members of your whereabouts. And with good timing too since according to Chan, Hyunjin had went into your room Saturday morning to wake you for the morning skin routine, but you were gone and he was about ready to freak out.

After that first night, Felix came up with the plan to say that you got hit with a weird bug and that it’d be too much of a hassle to move you back to your room in the 3RACHA dorm (plus you and Hyunjin) so you might as well just stay in his room for the time being. Minho came to check on you that night, but Felix managed to convince him that it wasn’t bad enough to go to the hospital; you just needed to rest and eat something not too heavy. It wasn’t that far off from the truth honestly, and it was a good excuse to stop anyone else from checking up on you.

So Felix’s room was now a designated “quarantine zone” and no one was allowed to go in and bother you. Felix being the only one able to go in and out since it was his room after all. Your phone had been bombarded with texts from all your members trying to check up on you, pinging every few minutes with memes and well wishes. It wasn’t until you kept getting back-to-back calls and texts from your now ex-boyfriend that you turned off your phone, not wanting to deal with him now or ever again.

Just like you thought, the bruise on your arm had gotten darker and it was easy to tell what had caused it. With just one glance at your arm, you knew that with how protective the guys were over you, that the entirety of Stray Kids would go looking for a fight with your ex and your group absolutely did not need any heat in the media right now. It was hard enough keeping Lix from going out there once he looked at your arm again and taking matters into his own hands. Let alone all eight of them if word got out.

No, you had just wanted to wallow in self-pity for now.

Currently, Felix sat next to you in bed as you lay curled up by his side. He was letting you know that Chan had stopped by again to check on you when you were asleep earlier and had left you your designated SKZOO, a bear cub named Gom-N/N-ie, to “help you feel bettah.” You felt guilty for lying to him, all of them really, after that while accepting your SKZOO from the sunshine man. Bringing it to your chest, you bury your face in the familiar feeling of your plushie.

“You know you don’t have to go tomorrow, right? We can tell the managers that you’re sick, too,” Felix’s deep voice broke through the quiet of the room from his spot next to you as he gently combed his fingers through your hair. Tomorrow all of you were to begin shooting for a special new episode of SKZ Code for Chuseok. You’d completely forgot about it until you overheard Minho and Innie talking about it outside of the door earlier.

You were quiet for a moment, contemplating on what you should say and do. You know you can’t keep hiding out in Felix’s room like this, it’s not fair to him. He doesn’t like lying to the other members either yet is doing it just for your sake. He’s been working hard to deflect any and all questions, comments and concerns about your wellbeing while also placating everyone else. You’ve definitely put your younger member in a difficult position.

You owe him a lot, your little sunshine.

“…I’ll go.”

His hand stills in your hair, waiting to see if you’ll say anything else.

“I’ll go with everyone tomorrow. You’re probably sick of me being in here anyways,” you quietly laugh out.

“Naur, what?” His Aussie accent coming out as he switches from Korean to English and back again. “I’m not sick of you, I could never be. If anything, the others are jealous cause I’m the only one that’s gotten to see you!”

“That’s such a lie, Lee Yongbok!” you finally laugh out loud for the first time since Friday night while swatting him in the leg playfully.

“It’s true, noona! Binnie Hyung was about ready to tackle me to get inside the room yesterday!”

The image alone of your buff bun trying to tackle your sunshine lad had you in stitches. What you didn’t see was the loving gaze of said sunshine, glad to see you at least somewhat happy again after everything that’s happened.

For this moment in time, that’s all he could ask for.

Felix gently grazes his fingers over your bruised arm, his smile slightly faltering at what he sees. Moving his hand back to your hair, he gently pulls a few strands just to get your attention.

“It’s gonna be ok, you know. I’ll be there to help you if you need it, alright? You’re not gonna be alone.”

“I know Lix…thank you. For everything.,” you respond quietly.

His only action is to bend down and give you another comforting forehead kiss. The two of you remain quiet for the rest of the night until it was time for bed.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thursday, 8:15 AM, VOCALRACHA dorm

As soon as you followed Felix out of the bedroom, you were accosted by the one and only maknae on top.

“Noona!” Jeongin yelled out, too loud for what time it was. “Are you feeling better? Do you need more medicine, a doctor?”

“Yah! Let her breathe.” The three of you jump in the middle of the hallway as the admonishing tone of Minho could be distinguished from the kitchen. He’d probably heard Innie from all the way over there.

Chuckling, you give him a small smile and a pat to his head to calm him down.

“I’m ok right now Innie, thank you for checking up on me.”

“You really had us worried noona, Lee Know-hyung was about to burst in there and take you to the hospital himself as soon as he found out you weren’t feeling good if it weren’t for Felix hyung.”

You’d figured something like that was bound to happen. You were even more grateful to Felix for all his efforts. You giggle at his comment and the three of you continue to the kitchen where Seungmin was also waiting.

“Morning everyone,” you greeted, sitting down next to the second youngest of you all.

“Are you sure you’re feeling ok enough to shoot today?” Seungmin asks quietly while placing a cup of juice in front of you which you gratefully take. You nod in agreeance as a bowl of porridge is placed in front of you. Minho pats your head before walking away to get the other dishes for breakfast.

“We’ll let the director-nim know that you should take it easier today at least,” he says while serving the rest of the guys at the table. Before you can protest, he sends you a heated look that leaves no room for argument.

With a twitch to your lips, you can’t help but to agree with him too. “I understand, thank you for breakfast.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thursday, 11:15 AM – SKZ Code shoot location, dressing room 1

Meeting the other half of your group went just about the same. Except more scolding from Hyunjin for skipping out on your daily routine. Although that was mostly an excuse because he was just so worried when he didn’t see you in your room that first morning.

“Really Y/N-ie, you should have messaged me first!” the pout on his lips not hard to find as he tugs on your sleeve.

“Y/N-ah, you should have seen him!” the boisterous voice of Changbin joins the two of you as you sit in your designated dressing room waiting for your leader’s return. The two of them immediately ambushing you, much like Jeongin this morning, upon your arrival. “He wouldn’t stop bothering Channie hyung for information on how you were doing!”

That evokes the lankier one of the two to get flustered and from there the two start a playful argument of no-I-wasn’t’s and yes-you-were’s. Just being with them again really did set your mind and heart at easy after the past couple of days. Not to mention a good distraction.

A quiet “noona” catches your attention from the squabble in front of you and has you turning to face Han questioningly.

“I brought you a red ginseng drink to keep your health up today.”

You wanted to cry again for an altogether different reason. Your members cared for you so much, each in their own different ways. You don’t know what you’d do without them.

“Ahh, thank you, Hannie. I’ll drink this right now.” The initial taste of the ginger is gross but it had a hint of sweetness at the end so the overall drink wasn’t too bad. Especially if you try to take it all in one go.

Han sits next to you on the couch, Felix following shortly after, as I.N and Minho join in on the fray to annoy the already hyped-up boys. Although they could all be loud and wild sometimes, it was just a part of their charm.

Chan comes back into the room about 5 minutes later gaining everyone’s attention.

“Alright, I got everything squared away with the director and producers. Y/N, they know you’re just getting better,” he states, staring directly at you as if he—, no there was no way, right? “So, you’re going to be given more of the easier things to do alright?”

The panic in your head only allows you to nod at him as you grab Felix’s hand for a quiet support. He doesn’t skip a beat in intertwining your hands together.

“Great, we’ve got 10 minutes before they want us to start going to make up and changing. Then we’re all going to film an intro piece for the episode. Anyone have any questions or problems with that?

When no one responded, Chan just nods and heads to the far corner and sits with his phone for a bit. You can’t help but think you feel his gaze every once in a while but brush it off as paranoia.

The time eventually comes to split off as the boys go to their own designated dressing room and you stay in the current one. The stylists helping you to get ready for what is surely to be an interesting shoot if the hanbok you have to wear is anything to go off of.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thursday, 1:15 PM – SKZ Code shoot location

[I.N - Lee Know's younger sister, Yongbok and Y/N's aunt]

[Changbin - High school jock / Always steps up to keep his family together]

[HAN - A sweet but strict father (But somewhat seems polite)]

[Hyunjin - The sassy mother]

[Lee Know - A tough woman but a lenient mother to Yongbok and Y/N]

[Seungmin - Survives through the attacks by Lee Know, I.N, and daughter’s Y/N and Yongbok]

[Yongbok - Sassy and brave like his mom, sister, and aunt]

[Bang Chan - The youngest son, loves his mom the most and hates his brother / Is always losing out to cousin Yongbok]

[Y/N – The exasperated oldest of the grandkids back from university/ Yongbok’s sister]

One rainy Chuseok morning, the SKZ Family are gathering in a long while today CHUSEOK SPECIAL : SKZ Family Returns

You stand off to the side, waiting for your cue to join, with the rest of the group as Channie and Felix do the beginning of the intro skit. It’s hard to keep the giggles in with how cute the both of them look and act.

“Hi...,” Chan started out shyly.

“Hi!” Felix sassed out immediately in response.

“How old are you?”

Felix counts slowly with his fingers, “…Three. How about you?”

“I’m five. I’m older than you.”

Felix plucks out two more digits to make five on his hand.

“You’re right.”

“Mm”

“You don’t look older though.”

“Why are you talking down to me?”

“Mind your own business.”

“Don’t talk down to me!”

“Don’t yell!”

“Okay…,” Chan whispers out. “Mommy!”

“Daddy!”

They both start crying and that’s your you cue to walk into the frame behind them.

“Hey! Stop crying!”

“Noona!” “Eunnie!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Filming was going smoothly so far. It was just the beginning though so nothing too taxing had happened yet. Felix just finished introducing himself as three-year-old Yongbok who gets her good looks from her mom and wants to live with her mother after their divorce.

“Waaah, my little sister is so cute,” you say out loud with a smile, Felix sticking his tongue out at you in response.

“Yes, both of my daughters are so cute,” Lee Know says while pinching your cheek since you sat beside him. There went your smile.

“Ahh! Mom!”

“Y/N-ie, it’s your turn to introduce yourself,” Seungmin, as your father, says not even bothering to help you out. You make a noncommittal sound as you fight with Lee Know to let go of your cheek still. More than half the guys laughing at your antics.

“Mom, please!”

“Ohh, but how can I let go of these cheeks huh,” he says in a babying tone, as he does in fact, let you go.

You rub your cheek as you sit down on the stool and face the proper direction.

“Hello, I’m Yongbok’s older sister, Y/N. I’m tirelessly working on maintaining my high marks in school but currently on break from university. So I’m glad to be home and able to spend this time with my family.”

“You get you book smarts from your dad,” Han says chuckling.

“And your street smarts from your mom,” Seungmin joins in. Lee Know, jokingly takes the bubble gun blower in front of him and aims it at his ‘husband’.

“That’s right, so you better watch what you say.”

You’re laughing at the scene before you as Hyunjin continues the skit, “Y/N-ie, what are you studying in college?”

“Uhh,” you didn’t really have a concept for this character, until you lock eyes with Chan and then the kiddie computer in front of him. “I’m studying…m-music producing?” you get out before laughing since producing was certainly not your forte. And everyone in front of you knew that.

“Noona is so cool,” Chan says from his spot on the ground. “Better than my older brother.”

“Aww, thanks Channie,” you beam at him as he beams back.

“Yah Bang Chan!” Binnie yells from behind him before yelling in pain because Chan leaned back against his legs.

“Changbin, don’t yell at you brother,” Hyunjin says as his mom.

“Mmm, my daughter is so talented. Getting in the best university of the country, getting good grades and look at her face, just like me,” He strikes a little pose. “Maybe next holiday she’ll bring home a boyfriend,” Lee Know continues in character.

The smile on your face freezes as your heart zings in pain. You’ve become still in your seat as you feel Felix’s eyes on you. He being the only ones to notice your hands balling into fists on your skirt.

“…Mom,” you start off slowly. Your hesitancy easily mistakable for your character’s young adult/college student love life being interrogated by their parent. “That’s…”

“She doesn’t need to be dating in college,” Seungmin cuts you off. “We met in college and now we’re getting a divorce!”

“Yeah but she won’t meet a mistake like you and go through any hardships. So she’ll be fine .”

Grin faltering, you begin to bite the inside of your lip to stop your eyes from getting glossy. Your nose starting to sting, a tale tell sign that you wanted to cry. Your actual hardships flashing in your mind.

“Mommy, daddy, don’t fight,” Felix tries to distract them.

“We’re not fighting,” Lee Know quickly responds as you get up from your seat to switch places with him. Felix quickly looping his arm around yours, taking your hand in his, giving it a quick squeeze.

You give him one back as you stare at a spot by your feet.

Despite the earlier hiccup, everything was going fine. Both Lee Know and Seungmin went on to introduce themselves, which was a skit about how Lee Know got married for money and that they were in the process of getting a divorce more than anything. And then Innie looking out for his nieces because what was said in front of them.

It was then decided that Yongbok was going with Lee Know and you were going with Seungmin. Both kids pouting at this information for being separated.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Next up was Han, who’s outfit immediately got torn to pieces by everyone in the room. Him trying to explain that he got his style from his father caused everyone to derail in laughter.

He brings back everyone’s attention by restarting his introduction.

“I’m Yongbok and Y/N-ie’s uncle, but I could be their new father.”

“Their new father?” Lee Know questions immediately as you and Felix looked shocked at him.

“I mean, I’ll be that much kinder to them.”

A few of the members understand what he means by that and Hyunjin speaks up in relief, “I was worried.”

“Hey, just a few days ago,” Seungmin speaks up from beside you asking a seemingly innocent question until it wasn’t. “Did you enjoy dinner with the friend I introduced to you?”

There was a pause in the room. Han looking a little shell-shocked as he responds.

“Why are you mentioning that now?”

Everyone’s quiet as Hyunjin gets up from his seated position. Your heartbeat picking up, flashes of your very recent tragedy of a relationship flashing in your mind. All the heartache came rushing back as the scene before you kept unfolding. Your heartbeat picking up in your chest as you look between the two.

“What does that mean?” Hyunjin asked cluelessly.

“You knew mom’s a jealous person!” Changbin yells from his spot next to I.N.

You can’t say anything as the ball of emotions in your throat gets bigger. Felix tries to comfort you but gets pulled away by Lee Know who’s trying to cover his eyes.

“Close your eyes and open your nose,” he says to Felix. If only you could shut out the blood rushing in your ears.

The deep breath that Hyunjin takes is something you felt from deep within your core. “Try explaining yourself.”

“What?”

“Try explaining.”

“You didn’t tell her?” Seungmin jumps in with a grin, making the situation worse. “I thought you did.”

It’s a joke. It’s a joke. It’s a joke.

You repeat to yourself as you try to control your breathing. It’s not their fault that you basically went through something so distressingly similar not even a week ago and they didn’t know about it. Staring at your lap, your hands begin to tremble and you can just feel your lips wobbling.

“Honey,” Han laughs out nervously.

“Was she prettier than me?”

You bring your hands up to cover part of your face. That had been one of many questions that had been plaguing you since the first time Jeonghan had cheated on you. You never got a good look at the first girl and the second girl was definitely pretty to you. You close your eyes, eyebrows furrowing, to try to block out the scene. You hope they can’t here you sniffling.

“…Yaaahh,” is all that Han can respond with, wanting to avoid answering the question.

Did he even feel guilty for what he did? Or did he just move on as if the last 10 months together didn’t mean anything?

A warm hand on your knee makes you open your eyes and you’re met with Chan’s concerned gaze as your eyesight becomes blurry with the tears quickly gathering there. His concern quickly becomes full on worry as a single tear drops down your cheek.

You needed to get out of there, quickly. It was a wonder how the others haven’t picked up on how upset you’re getting.

“Mom, no one’s prettier than you,” Changbin pipes up as he stands up next to Hyunjin.

“That’s right!”

Did Jeonghan ask his members not to tell you anything? Were they in on everything?

“Lee Know…?” Han questions.

“Huh?”

“Don’t tell them we met yesterday.”

Would they have told you if they knew? Or did they all laugh about you behind their backs? Did Jeonghan even like you, or did he just keep you around because you were convenient?

This endless cycle of negative questions kept spiraling in your mind as the skit the boys were doing continued to play out before you.

Lee Know, with a grin on his face, turns to look at Hyunjin who’s sat down next to Seungmin again. “It’s fine, I saw someone today too.” Hyunjin says in retaliation as he grabs onto Seungmin.

“Wait a minute…” Han starts but you’ve had enough by this point. The sob you try to hide was heard throughout the group and everyone freezes.

You hurriedly get up from your spot between Seungmin and Felix and trip twice trying to get out of there. The chaos that ensues as the fabric of your hanbok getting caught under your foot was instantaneous as Chan, Changbin, and Felix immediately try to catch you. The small leg space not making it easy to leave quickly.

“Noona?” I.N asks fearfully, breaking character as he sees the state that you’re in.

“Y/N-ah?” Minho asks from his side of the couch starting to get up from his seat.

Han, Seungmin, and Hyunjin quiet in their shock of what’s happening.

“Sorry—, I—, Please…,” you sob out as you finally get out of the cramped space. Felix and Chan following right behind you as you run to the restroom to lock yourself in there. The door closing in both of their faces. The brief look at your expression, blotchy and covered in tears, breaking their hearts.

You hug yourself as you slide down against the door, finally allowing yourself to cry fully. Even through your sobs, you can hear the other members coming up to the other side of the door to check on you. You could faintly make out the deep timbre of Felix’s voice most likely trying to diffuse the situation which makes you cry more. You weren’t ready to face any of this, or them, now. Should have just stayed home instead of making a mess like this.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you heard a gentle knock on the door behind you. Your tears still flowing slowly but at least you weren’t full on sobbing now. Sniffling, you’re hesitant as you look towards the locked doorknob.

“Y/N-ah, it’s just me,” Chan says from the other side. “Everyone else went to go talk to the manager and director to give us a break right now.”

Not saying anything, he clears his throat before asking quietly, “Do you think you can let me in?”

The double entendre isn’t lost on you. Whether Chan knew what he said or not was unknown to you. With some tentativeness, you manage to wiggle to the wall to be able to unlock and open the door for him.

Chan slips into the restroom and closes the door swiftly behind him. You look small to him as you sat huddled into yourself on the ground. Not like your usual boisterous self. He doesn’t say anything as he sits down next to you. Doesn’t pressure you to say anything, either. Just sits with you, waiting patiently for you to be comfortable enough to tell him what’s wrong.

So you sit there in silence for a few moments more. Trying to gather the courage to lay yourself emotionally bare to your leader. You pick at the fabric you have on, sniffling every now and then until Chan gently places his hand over yours in comfort. And to probably stop you from tearing a hole in your clothes…

He lets you play with his hand until you manage to take a deep breath. For the second time since the whole fiasco happened, you find yourself confiding your problem with a member. Going into a bit more detail than what you did with Felix.

You told Chan everything while on the floor in that little restroom.

How you first met Jeonghan, how you kept bumping into him after the shows you all did, how you ended up exchanging numbers. To how you kept in touch after that, kept meeting up until he eventually asked you out. Occasionally sneaking out of the dorm to meet up with him at his insistence.

You thought Chan would get mad at that, but he didn’t say anything. Just squeezed your hand to get you to continue with your story.

You told Chan how you caught Jeonghan cheating the first time, and how DK all but dragged you out of there but it didn’t even matter because you saw everything. That messed you up mentally and was the reason why you had messed up a lot during dance practice the next day.

Chan remembers the day you were talking about. He thought something was wrong but kept it to himself, hoping you’d come talk to him about it, but you never did.

You explained the fight that happened a week after catching him back then. How you eventually, and stupidly, ended up forgiving him and continuing the relationship only for him to go behind your back and do it again a couple of days ago.

“So you weren’t sick?” he cuts in, finally breaking his silence.

“I mean…not in the contagious sense…,” you explain while turning to him. He nods, letting you continue as he tries to wipe the dried tears off your face.

“So yeah, Nayeon called me up that Friday night and I had to sneak out to Hongdae. Sorry…about that by the way…,” you clear your throat, avoiding eye contact with him altogether. “So I saw him literally in the act again and had to confront him about it this time. We ended up going outside and basically just having an all-out screaming match with each other. Where, by the way, he tried to gaslight the shit out of me, but it didn’t work. Thankfully, Felix showed up when he did though because Jeonghan ended up grabbing me really hard. Who knows what he could have done if Lix hadn’t gotten there in time.”

You let go of Chan’s hand, which was still intertwined with yours, to rub against your bruised shoulder.

“Wait…he put his hands on you?”

You don’t pick up on his tone as you nod and take off the jeogori jacket layer of your hanbok. Presenting your, now, heavily bruised arm, Chan takes it delicately in his hands.

“I asked the stylist to try to use coverup on it, but it was just so dark and it still hurt so she couldn’t do much about it in the end.”

Gently, he touches the colorfully marred skin not saying a word, his jaw ticking in anger at what he’s seeing.

You don’t even get a word out before he’s up and bolting out of the restroom. Face clouded in rage.

“Ch-Chan!” Scrambling, you grab the jeogori from the ground and run after him, not even bothering to put it back on. “Channie, wait!”

The other members of your group had managed to clear the room of the staff and had been hovering close the door the entire time, waiting patiently for the two of you to come out. What they weren’t expecting was an infuriated Chan and an anxious you to come out of there.

“What’s happening,” Changbin asked, lowkey getting worked up just seeing his leader on edge.

“I’m gonna kill him,” is all Chan says.

“Who?” Han asks, also getting anxious.

“Noona, what happened to your arm?” Innie asks from beside you, gently grabbing your bruised arm. That captures everyone else’s attention. Your face pales as you realize your mistake.

“Is that a bruise?” “Why does it look like a hand?” “Who the hell touched you?” “Noona, are you ok?”

“I— ,” you’re on the verge of panicking, not knowing what to do.

This catches Chan’s attention and breaks the trance of rage he’s in. He makes his way back to you and brings you into a big hug. He holds you in his arms as you try to hide away from everyone’s prying eyes.

But honestly, they’re just so worried about you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Channie whispers into your hair. Shaking your head, you understand everyone’s concerns, you just wish it wasn’t revealed this way.

Keeping your face in Chan’s chest to hide, your muffled response is heard. “Long story short, I got into it with an ex a couple of days ago because he was cheating and he…put his hands on me…”

Just like you thought, they were all visibly upset for you.

“This happened to you…and I was…” Han became visibly pale compared to the others as his actions up until you ran out sprang to his mind. That prompted the other boys, besides Felix, to realize why you had gotten upset enough to leave the set in the first place. All of them immediately apologizing to you, getting upset with themselves and begging for your forgiveness.

“Who is it?” Seungmin asks menacingly from somewhere behind you, voice quivering with emotion. Guard dog mode being activated.

“No, guys—”

“He’s gonna wish he only got a bruised arm once I’m done with him,” Changbin says while rolling his neck in annoyance now. Minho and Felix are taking off their own hanbok’s as I.N and Hyunjin stretch out themselves, preparing for a beatdown.

“Noona, seriously, who did this to you?” Han asks you quietly next to you, mood sad yet protective.

“Guys really, there’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t know what was going on, you don’t have to do anything,” You pipe up, finally pulling away from Chan a little. His arms tighten around you slightly, not wanting to let you go fully.

“Y/N-ah, we have every right to want to have your back on this. He’s not gonna get away with putting his hands on you,” Chan explains to you still upset about all the information that you’ve shared with him.

“No, I get that, I swear,” you rotate in his arms to face the others. “I appreciate all of you wanting to go and kick his ass. But I swear it’s not necessary. Felix already beat the shit out of him. His company put out a statement saying he’s taking a break for a bit for ‘health reasons’.”

All of you turn to Felix, who’s now taking off his headband, cool expression on his face. “I’m not against kicking his ass again, Jellybean.”

You stare at him dumbfounded until you burst into laughter because of course he wouldn’t. None of them would be. Because this is your family away from family. They’re dead set in wanting to protect you, and each other, from any and everything that could be harmful.

The others stare at you as if you’ve finally lost your mind which prompts you to just say, “I love you guys.”

Felix, besides Chan who is still holding you, is the first to step up and give you a very much needed hug. A little confused, the rest of the guys follow suit and you all end up in one massive hug.

Until one of the younger boys starts fighting with Changbin and they all break away.

“Don’t think this lets you off the hook for sneaking out of the dorm, Y/N-ah,” Chan says out loud from behind you as you’re still wrapped in his arms.

“You did what?!” Minho could be heard yelling, which causes you to groan.

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ironarrow87 · 2 months ago

Text

Hazbin Hotel Imagine: A Small Prompt

Summary: You were only trying to help. You swear.

Warnings: None

Notes:

Me: Give me a small prompt to write a HH short fic. It can even be 1 word. Bestie: ummmmmmm a prompt Me: Lmao I hate you, BUT ILL DO IT Bestie: no no wait, a SMALL prompt Me: Lmao youre the worst

As always, please do not copy or post my work elsewhere.

You didn’t mean for this to happen.

You swear.

It all started a few weeks ago, when you were eating your breakfast and couldn’t help but notice a certain someone pacing the lobby.

“You okay?” you asked tentatively, unsure of what mood the radio demon was in today.

His head snapped so forcefully toward you that you heard the bones in his neck crack. You wince.

“Why, of course!” Alastor’s voice was full of energy, but even you could hear the dangerous strained edge in them. Like he was holding himself back from absolutely destroying your damned soul. This would be a good time to make your exit.

But…you didn’t get into Hell because of your patience with dangerous men.

“What’s on your mind then?” You kept your voice light, your eyes following his movements back and forth across the floor. Even Alastor’s pacing felt threatening, like he was stalking prey rather than feeling stressed.

He looks at you, and for a moment, you think he will just deflect. He surprises you with the truth today, and you know he relishes the look of surprise that flits across your own face. Always one for entertainment. “I am just having some trouble coming up with a new story for my radio show, my dear. Nothing to worry about.”

Instantly, you’re interested. Alastor does not share much of his radio show aside from what is broadcast for all of Hell to listen to. “You write your own stories?”

He stills his pacing, staring at you. “Well, of course I do. In order to be irreplaceable, one must always come up with their own unique material.”

You both chat for a short while until you can see the subtle changes in your friend, signaling the release of at least some of the tension in his body. “What if, instead of a love drama this time…you do a friendship one?”

“Friendship?” he says doubtfully. “Would the listeners be able to enjoy the complexities and intricacies of friendship alone?” He hums, and you can hear a radio tune briefly mingling with his words. “Well, I suppose I’ve been catering to the more mundane for some time. Romance.” He moved his hands through the air, as if dismissing the thought. “Friendship. Betrayal. True passion! The greatest form of entertainment!”

You try hard to suppress a grin at the radio demon’s excitement. All he needed was a little push. A small prompt. That’s all.

“Maybe you could even write about a friendship gone wrong…you know..two driven individuals, working together to form their own little company…but something happens that drives them apart in the industry…and now it’s a battle between them to be the best in the field.”

Alastor processes your words. “Ah, ho! You seem to have a taste for the twistedly creative, my dear.” He pats your head. “Now! I must be off! Plenty of work to be done!”

You don’t hide your grin this time as he melts into the shadows.

It’s only a week or so later when you find yourself sitting in Vox’s office, waiting for him to get off work.

Yes, you were friends with both overlords, and it was no easy feat.

The constant squabbling and heckling often drove you insane. But, individually, you found that you enjoyed their company.

Most of the time, anyway. Not when you’re sitting here waiting for Vox to come out of his office. If he ever decided to grace you with his presence.

Finally, the door opens.

“Sorry, my dear, I got…wrapped up in something.” You look up. There are sparks flying out of his claws, and his screen glitches very briefly.

“Everything okay?” you ask, already knowing its not and bracing yourself for a rant.

And indeed it comes.

You listen as Vox complains about the ratings of several of his shows spiraling. How he needs to come up with some new ideas quickly before next week but every idea has already been done with the mass production at VoxTech. How the viewers are hungry for something new, something different.

There’s a feeling in your brain. An itch. You’ve solved this problem before, didn’t you?

“Well…the majority of your shows are romance based…why not do something on friendship?”

“Friendship?” Vox looks at you skeptically. You smirk and give him the same pitch you gave Alastor.

“I dunno…the majority of viewers are looking for the stories to end in sex.”

God, you really shouldn’t. But…it was just a prompt. A teenie nudge.

You look him square in the eye. “So can your new story.”

So, now you are running.

Shadows swirl across the alley ways, and you can see VoxTech security cameras swinging to face you as you run.

You really, really, didn’t mean to.

Both Alastor’s radio story and Vox’s new show were big hits. They glowed in the reviews as two entertainers tend to do. For weeks, they both tried to out shine the other with their complex stories. Both storylines were the talk of Hell. Everything was great.

Until Angel brought up to Alastor how similar the radio story was to Alastor’s and Vox’s relationship.

Until Val asked Vox if he was secretly dating the radio demon.

Both overlords fought constantly. Everyone knew that. But now, you’ve discovered something decidedly much worse.

You race into an alley, only to find yourself facing a brick wall.

“Now, my dear…let’s have a talk.” The voice was staticky and you almost didn’t understand it.

You turn slowly, mouth dry and heart pounding.

“Oh yes, a talk,” came a different the glitched out. The voice sounded like it was coming from all around you.

You face the long shadow with red eyes standing at the end of the alley beside pops of electricity and a burning bright screen. United as one front.

“I really didn’t mean to. I swear.”

#born out of pure chaos #IronArrow87 #Twyla Tidbits #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Alastor Imagine #Alastor Reader Insert #Hazbin Hotel Reader Insert #Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x Reader #Hazbin Hotel Imagine #Vox #Vox x Reader #Vox Reader Insert #Vox Imagine #Radiostatic #Radiostatic?

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taahko · 9 months ago

Note

I just found your blog today can you please explain or point out a post that explains the MASH timeloop thing? I love the show but I've never heard anyone talk abt it that way before

oh yay hurray ive been waiting for an excuse to talk about this lmao sorry this is long

ok so basically maeve (my gf) and i started watching mash for the first time about a month ago and we started joking about it being like the characters were stuck in a time loop mostly because the same basic episode format is repeated over and over, because it's a sitcom from the 70s and the episodes arent meant to be watched en masse where you can start noticing all the little repetitions and plot holes and inconsistencies that naturally occur in longform tv

but then i started to pay attention to the dates being mentioned in the show - famously the korean war never technically ended, but american troops were involved in active on the ground fighting between 1950 and 1953, so the entire 11 seasons of mash have to be squeezed into that three year period. with 251 episodes occurring within 1,129 days, that gives every episode about 4.5 days of real time. so it works right? no time loop right? well wait a sec

for the first 5 seasons or so of mash they give very consistent dates about when things are happening. for example, bj arrives in korea in september of 1952, at the start of season 4. colonel potter arrives about a week after him, and talks about how he has 18 months left before his retirement. that gives us about 7 months for the shows final 7 seasons to take place in, meaning that by the episode 'point of view' in season 7 we should be around december of 1952. in that episode the pov character starts writing a letter home and in the corner he writes the date:

september of 1951. ok, could be that this episode isn't meant to take place in the regular timeline of the season - maybe for some reason its just like, a random flashback episode. but bj, charles, and potter are all present, even though none of them got to korea until 1952. now i KNOW that this is not like, the True Hidden Secret Lore of MASH, this is the writers realizing they were running out of road and turning back the clock a bit to accommodate for how long the show was running on. but play in my time loop space with me please

more talking points:

consistent jokes about time zones and how difficult it is to call the states because "our today is their yesterday but if you call them now it might not reach them until our tomorrow and by that point our yesterday will be their today"

hawkeye's increasing mania over the seasons and his conviction that the war will never end, comparing the camp to dante's inferno multiple times. maeve once pointed out that the closer hawkeye comes to realizing that he's trapped in a time loop the closer he gets to being institutionalized - and what does the series finale cold open onto ? hawkeye in a mental institution. the only way out is to lose yourself etc. sidenote frank also escaped the time loop by going insane and getting institutionalized

in a war for all seasons bj potter and charles are all present at the 1951 new years party as well as the 1952 new years party

there are three christmas episodes, two of which bj is present for even though he should only have spent one christmas in korea

details of people's families and lives shift around - sometimes potter's got multiple grandchildren, sometimes he only has one, sometimes its a girl, sometimes its a boy, sometimes she's 5, sometimes he's 2

we're not the first people to talk about this either, here's a good video compilation posted a couple yrs ago of time loop moments

overall ive been using the time loop thesis to add another layer to my mash viewing experience. it increases the already present sense of constant dread, anger, frustration, and disgust with their situation that the characters feel, plus it feels like a very poignant take on the united states' constant warmongering and violent existence. it really never ends, it just goes on an on. the future's been canceled by the war department- we're just gonna replay the past.

#shut up aggie #mash #might add more to this later

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deanbrainrotwritings · 1 year ago

Text

— WHERE IS MY MIND?

SUMMARY : thinking dean is being annoying with his friendship with crowley. purposely teasing dean and leaving him wanting more, acting like nothing happened.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), the mark of cain, fluff, lots of teasing, sexy use of handcuffs and belts?, attempted anal play (fem. receiving, I thought I could, but sadly, it’s not my thing 😭)

WORD COUNT : 7.7K

A/N : title from the Pixies because that song is a vibe. inspired by BTS, doctor who, muse, coldplay, and obviously by watching this damn season lmao X

“How’s your new boyfriend?” Y/N asked, thumbing the spinning shark head on her blue pen as she stared at a newspaper. She didn’t look up at him, she didn’t have to. She could sense him, she could feel the way her skin tingled the way it always did when he was around. Like two planets, they were drawn to each other, fated by the physics of the universe to belong together, to stay close until they died and the universe became cold and empty with endless death.

Dean froze when he entered the dark library and heard her voice. He looked over at the small lamp Y/N was using to read the newspaper in the dark, the constant whirring of the pen as she twirled it sounded louder than it actually was in the quiet of the night.

“Stop that,” he grunted. She finally looked up at him and raised a brow, her eyes mostly mischievous rather than angry. He placed his duffle bag down on the table next to her scattered papers, their eyes locked on each other’s — asserting dominance.

“Stop this?” She asked, her thumb sliding along the spinning shark head so that the whir continued, and he clenched his jaw at her, his eyes narrowing at her calm face.

His eyes travelled over her beautiful face, analysing the warmth of her dilated eyes, to the blush on her cheeks, and the way her chest was rising a little faster than normal. He reached over and wrapped his fingers around hers to stop her and she blinked at him, an innocent smile tugging at her rosy lips, her eyes becoming wide like a little deer.

“Stop saying Crowley’s my lover,” he told her, his voice deep and threatening. He could read the playfulness in her eyes, the challenge as she lifted her chin just slightly, a smirk growing on her kissable lips now that she knew she had him trapped.

“Give me my pen,” she said calmly, tugging gently under his warm, thick fingers, but he only tightened his grip. She completely ignored him when he refused, turning away to read the newspaper, her hand still trying to pull out of his electric hold. “I dreamt about you and woke up dripping wet, which was nice,” she said nonchalantly, pretending to be distracted as she read the obituary of some old lady.

He blinked down at her, his fingers squeezing her hand which made her eyebrows rise, but she moved her attention to another boxed article instead of reacting. Still, a smile tugged at her lips and her breaths got quicker, like his, she noticed. “Kinda disappointing that you were too busy fucking around with Crowley to take care of that for me, had to take matters into my own... hands.”

He let go of her warm hand and she acted casually, as if she hadn’t just admitted to masturbating earlier today in their shared bed. Her pen touched the paper to circle something interesting and he growled her name softly at her irritating behaviour. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking up at him innocently. Her eyes examined his face now, moving from his angry, creased eyebrows, to his green eyes, now clouded with lust and annoyance. Breaths were shallowly escaping from his beautiful nose, his lips were wet with his saliva and pink from biting them. She licked her own at the sight of their puffy state, and bit her lip at his stubble, remembering the tickle of the coarse little hairs of his jaw between her thighs.

She squeezed her legs instinctively when her cunt began to feel the echoes of pleasure from his tongue. Her eyes fluttered back up to his and she smiled sweetly, leaning forward to catch his lips in a kiss quicker than he could react, then she pulled away just as he was melting into it.

“I’m gonna shower now that I know you’re safe.” She put her pen down and he stood there, speechless, watching her fold the newspaper. “You know, since you were too entertained with your new friend to call or text to let me know you’re fine, or coming home late, at least.” She neatly organised her papers and he glared at her, his face hot with arousal and frustration. “You can join me, if you’d like, unless you already did that with Crowley. too,” She stood up, taking her cardigan off the chair, and finally looked up at his locked jaw. A grin spread over her lips and she made her way past him for only a few inches before he grabbed her arm firmly to stop her.

“You’re getting on my nerves,” he told her, his hot voice thick with desire and irritation. She turned around to face him and narrowed her eyes at him despite the warmth that pooled between her legs.

“You’re getting on mine,” she whispered, weakly tugging away from him. He grasped her tighter, then pulled her forward until she was pressed against his firm and warm body.

“Sit. Down,” he whispered harshly. When she didn’t listen, he manhandled her until she was turned around, and kicked the chair out with his foot for her to sit in. “Sit.”

She huffed out a defiant breath, pulling her arm out of his grip, “No.”

“Have it your way,” he growled, taking cuffs with etchings on it out of his black jacket. She looked at his face, incredulous as he took her forearm in his large hand to slap one cuff around her wrist and the other to the chair. “Sit,” he ordered, snatching the cardigan from her to drop over his duffle bag. When she didn’t listen, he gripped her shoulder tightly and he pushed her down until she plopped down on the wooden chair. She pouted at the cuffs and then glared up at him.

“You know, I can easily get out of these,” she informed him, tugging halfheartedly at the cold metal that bound her to the chair.

“So why don’t you?” He smirked, his hand gently wrapping around her throat. She instinctively circled his wrist with her free hand and he moved his to grasp the soft locks at her nape instead.

“I like this chair,” she shrugged, letting him pull her hair to force her head to tip back. He hummed softly, smirking when she hissed at the slight sting in her scalp, leaning forward to peck her lips once. He groaned softly at the spark-like feeling that covered his mouth when it immediately made contact with hers, like stardust scattering over his lips as they brushed against hers.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked softly when he let her hair go. She settled into the chair, watching him lean back to remove his jacket while biting her lip.

“Sleeping,” she replied tonelessly. She stared at his athletic body, entranced by the way he slowly slipped his indigo flannel off to be folded haphazardly over the table with his jacket. He sat on the table and grinned at her, lifting his foot between her slightly parted legs, he slowly undid the knot of his laces and then did the same to the other boot. They fell loudly on the wooden floor when he kicked them off, revealing some adorable banana socks that made her smile softly.

When she lifted her gaze up to his face, she shamelessly admired his body in the black t-shirt, the way it stretched over his chest and broad shoulders, the short sleeves exposing the muscles of his freckled arms. He was gorgeous. More importantly, he was hard. She dropped her eyes between his legs, his crotch practically right in front of her, and she cocked an eyebrow at the tent in his tight jeans. God, they did wonders for his fantastic ass.

She tugged at the cuffs, wanting to free herself of them. He looked down at her wrist and then raised an eyebrow at her. “What?” He asked innocently, using one hand to undo his belt, the other moved one of her rebellious strands of hair into place. She stared at his busy hand, her eyes glittering with excitement the way they always did with his adept skill of being able to remove his belt one-handedly rather fast. She didn’t know if she wanted to squeeze her legs together or spread them apart farther for him. “You’re so quiet,” he murmured, then he slid the belt out of his jean’s loops.

“Is there something you wanna hear, Dean?” She grumbled, her free hand reaching over to palm at his cock over his jeans.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, staring down at her hand, allowing her to touch him just for a few moments. “No touching, you’ve been too annoying tonight,” he grunted. She pouted at him, squeezing his cock defiantly. He moaned, surprised. He took her wrist quickly and used his belt to tie her only freehand to the chair.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

He glared at her and she smiled at him sarcastically, tugging at his belt to test its tightness. The leather creaked with her movement and he grinned.

He unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, getting off the table to kick them off completely while looking at her to make sure she was not actually pissed at him. When she smiled at him distractedly, he removed his shirt and she licked her lips at the sight of his flat stomach and the v on his hips that led down to what she secretly wanted most, what was hidden beneath his black boxers. He had the tiniest waist too. Fuck, all those layers of clothes he wore didn’t do his gorgeous body any justice.

She was getting wetter and wetter by the second as she admired him like he was a worshipped sculpture in a museum, created by Michelangelo himself. Her body was slowly becoming warm like a spring sun and her heart was beating rapidly like the beat of a glorious song, excited to see him, to feel him, to get closer to him.

“Dean,” she said firmly. His cock jumped at the way she said his name and he looked at her face with his breath caught in his throat, and then his eyes dropped down to the creaking leather of his favourite belt and over to the clinking chains of the cuffs.

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart,” he warned her breathlessly.

She pursed her lips to stop herself from begging and she looked away from him, her eyes sticking to the blue journal Sam got her last Christmas. She didn’t want him to see the pleas in her eyes and she ignored him when he pulled his boxers down slowly. The creaking of leather, the small chains rattling, they gave her away, and she wanted to moan, to rub her thighs together, but she refused.

Her head snapped towards him when he pulled her chair she was sitting in closer to him. The wooden legs squeaked against the floor and she looked down to make sure no marks would be left behind. It would normally piss Dean off to see the wood ruined, but obviously, he could do what he wanted. She narrowed her eyes at him when she looked up at him.

Her gaze reluctantly flickered down to his cock. Even his dick was perfect, it was truly unfair. It stood erect, throbbing, pink, with mouth-watering beads of precum that made her insides quiver. She swallowed thickly and lifted her eyes back up to his stupid, smug face.

“I don’t like you right now,” she pouted, turning away from him.

He chuckled as he cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. She kept her lips pressed together, refusing to kiss him back, and didn’t open up when his tongue swiped across the seam, silently asking for permission to enter.

He pulled away and contemplated her body language for a few moments. “Open up,” he told her darkly.

“No,” she pouted. He sighed dramatically, pushing himself off the table and she straightened up, squirming a little when he walked behind her. His fingertips gently brushed over her bare shoulders, the voltage of his touch igniting her skin like the neurons firing in her brain, and she shivered. He reached over for the hair band on the table that she had been playing with earlier and tied her hair into a messy ponytail.

She gripped the arms of the chair, panting a little when he stopped touching her. She could only feel the warmth of his breath against her neck, his nose ghosting along her jaw, and she licked her lips as they became dry with the air that slipped past her parted mouth. His lips brushed against her ear and she bit her lip, her spine tingling at the sensation of having him so close behind her without doing anything. She turned her face slightly to gaze at him and he forced her to look forward, his fingers harshly holding her jaw in place.

“Don’t,” his hushed voice warned.

He walked back around to face her, his eyes trailing over her body. He hummed softly as he looked at the cropped tube shirt she wore. The white, soft cotton covering her chest was convenient for easy removal down her body—like a skirt. And she was wearing a pink jean skirt. He got down on his knees and she blinked down at him, wiggling a little when his fingers undid the silver button at her waist.

“Up,” he told her, tugging the skirt down her hips and she did as she was told, this time. She lifted her hips up off the chair, letting him drag the skirt down her legs and off her completely. He left it with his jeans on the floor and started to pull down the shirt she was wearing that had a little pink heart at the centre. She was wearing a beige strapless bra underneath and he pouted at the sight of it. It made her break her stubborn and bratty character and she smiled at him with amusement.

He removed the shirt slowly, then reached behind her to unclasp the bra and he bit his lip at the sight of her round breasts, a hum of appreciation resounding in his chest. The sound made her shift a little in the chair, he noticed it, his ego absorbing the pleasure of knowing what the smallest things he did did to her.

Her beige panties were haphazardly hanging onto her hips from the amount of times he’d dragged clothes over them and the sight of them aroused him. “You like making things hard for me, don’t you?” He grabbed her knees and pushed them apart, then grabbed her hips and pulled them forward so her ass was barely on the chair.

“Not things,” she rolled her eyes, then very matter-of-factly said, “your cock.” She smiled innocently and he had to laugh. The sound made her eyes soften and she melted a little, a real smile spreading over her face like butter on warm pancakes.

“I don’t think I can keep you tied up for much longer,” he admitted, smiling lovingly at her. He looked away and hooked a finger under her panties to push them aside and look at her pussy.

“Well, sweetheart, I think I quite enjoy being tied up,” she told him offhandedly.

He hummed distractedly, “I can tell.”

He parted her wet folds with two fingers and she squirmed at the cool air of the room that hit her wetness and then his warm breath made her moan. She wanted to shut her legs out of sudden coyness, but his broad shoulders between her parted knees stopped her.

He suddenly flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit and she gasped at the little spark of pleasure, her toes curling in her pink ankle boots. Her stomach fluttered and she looked down at him, catching his watchful gaze, and she blushed, her confidence slipping away as light travelling through vacuum space.

He noticed and smirked, nuzzling her thigh with his stubble, then kissing her pelvis. “Dean,” she whispered.

“Where’d my annoying, bratty, little girlfriend go?” He teased, then his mouth returned to her sex. He moved his tongue leisurely, tasting the arousal at her entrance with a moan, dragging his tongue through her folds, up to her clit, until she was panting heavily. He smirked, lazily continuing to massage the swollen little pearl before moving to her entrance again, just to taste her dripping juices. “You’re so wet,” he purred against her, his words muffled from him not moving away from her heat to speak.

“Shit,” she whispered, feeling conflicted on whether to stare at him or close her eyes with her head tipped back.

“Makes it real easy for my big cock to slip inside your tight.. hot.. needy little cunt.” She swallowed a moan, fidgeting with the discomfort of her arousal and the gradual attention he was giving her. He grabbed her ass, lifting it slightly off the chair, and thrusted his tongue into her entrance. Her breath hitched at the warmth inside her and she tightened around his tongue, struggling against the two different materials around her wrists that kept her bound to the chair.

He continued to plunge his tongue in and out of her, imitating the movement his cock made when he fucked her. She wanted to break out and pull his hair as she watched him, he looked too pretty and arrogant between her shaky legs. The sight of him looking at her through his beautiful, curled lashes while his nose nudged her clit made her whine, her face flushed and her skin sweaty from the intensity of his teasing.

He slipped his tongue inside her, pushing as deep as he could, and wiggled it inside her. “What the fuck?” She gasped, moaning out in surprise at the nice sensation. Then, she yelped when his tongue slipped out and he lapped at her asshole. No one had ever done that—and to be fair she did not have a long list of sex partners, there was only Dean in her list of people she’d had sex with, and he’d never done that before. “No!” She squealed, easily lowering her hips, then she pushed the chair away from him as he chuckled.

“You really don’t like that, huh?” He laughed and she smiled, shaking her head bashfully. “Okay, I’ll take note of that,” he murmured, then shuffled closer to her again. She slowly parted her thighs for him, her teeth digging into her lip, as he placed his mouth back on her sex. He parted her folds with two fingers and used his tongue to play with her clit, his tongue brushing between his fingers with each passive stroke of tongue, just to make her squirm again, and she giggled breathlessly.

“Dean,” she moaned. He pulled away at the sound and stood on his knees to kiss her. This time, she opened up to him readily. She didn’t care that he was smearing her arousal onto her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue as it rolled against hers like soft waves. He dragged his two fingers down to her wet hole, slipping his middle finger inside, pushing in and out gradually. He swallowed her moan, pushing against her lips needily, until they were kissing desperately, wishing to somehow get closer.

“I’m just waiting for you to beg, angel,” he whispered against her lips. He added another finger inside her, scissoring them inside her to prepare her for his cock. His cock which ached and hardened at the feeling of her wetness trickling down his palm and knuckles.

“I don’t do that,” she whispered defiantly. He shook his head, keeping his lips close to hers, brushing like leaves on branches did to each other, their breaths tangling. She felt lightheaded with arousal and she just wanted to eat him up like a Leviathan or something. Wow, loving aggression.

“Suit yourself,” he told her quietly. He slipped his fingers out of her and stood up, using his wet fingers to stroke his painfully erect cock. He pressed his fingers against the throbbing veins of his cock, teasing himself, massaging just underneath the head of his cock, drawing out more precum from the slit. He used his thumb to gather it, then popped his finger into her mouth so she could taste him.

She felt a new wave of wetness exude from her cunt at the taste of him, her cheeks turning warmer, redder, when he cupped the back of her head and lined his cock up with her mouth. Her mouth watered and she willfully opened up for him, letting her hot mouth engulf his heavy cock.

She looked up at him, her eyes pretty, like her red lips that rimmed his cockhead. He moaned down at the sight of her, teasing himself, testing his patience as he pushed only the tip in and out of her mouth. Her tongue teased his slit, circling the frenulum, and lapping at the precum as she drooled around him.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he praised, letting go of his cock, to push more of himself into her. She sucked at him, her tongue slithering along the bottom, moving her head back and forth, she let him guide her.

He dragged his fingers down to her chest, kneading her breasts, squeezing the warm flesh in his large hand. “I bet you’re all achy and wet, you little brat,” he growled, pushing himself all the way down her throat. She choked and made a surprised sound, her teeth brushing gently against his sensitive cock to warn him.

He hissed, pinching her nipple roughly so her throat constricted around him to stop noise from coming out, and he moaned at the feeling. He chuckled at her glare, feeling her knees try to close around his legs as he stood between them. He moaned softly again, pushing in and out of her throat roughly, her throat made obscene sounds as he fucked her face, and he stopped when he felt his orgasm approaching.

Her pretty eyes were tearing up, glassy with tears, her long lashes sticking together from a few tears that were falling from his relentless throat fucking, but she didn’t mind. He brought his hand to her reddened cheek, caressing her hot face, and brushing tears away, losing himself in his lust all at once.

He mercifully unlocked the cuffs from around her wrist and he kissed her deeply. She pulled her mouth away from him and he just stared---a gasp escaping him---as she swiftly used one hand to remove his belt from her wrist. It was faster than his brain could keep up with and before he knew it, she was pushing him into the table, her hand wrapping around his cock to stroke him quickly while her other hand moved to his nape to bring his mouth down to hers again.

He moaned loudly, shamelessly throwing his head back, abandoning her mouth as his lips parted to verbalise his pleasure. “God, I wanna make you cum like this,” she told him quietly.

“I have other plans,” he moaned. Y/N bit her lip as he spoke, her eyes sparkling with love and amusement when he looked down at her. “They involve you, only you,” he whispered and then tensed up, about to cum.

He turned them around so that she could sit on the table, easily hoisting her up with his hands on the curve of her waist, forcing her to let go of his cock all at once. He breathed shakily as his cock twitched, aching and longing to spill at last, inside her or on her heated skin. He groped her sides lovingly, worshipping her body with his big hands, squeezing the fleshy parts until he felt like he could continue without cumming in five seconds.

They both breathed heavily, their skins charged with electricity and sweaty from the heat of their aroused state. She admired him quietly, the flex in his muscles from his effort to regain control and his composure. His touch took her breath away, like his gentle kisses along her fiery skin. She didn’t want to look away from him, or stop touching him either as he mouthed at her neck and bit at her collarbones. His sharp teeth dragging along with his tongue to taste her sweat and the natural flavour of her skin beneath the sheen. His plump lips suctioned at her body, leaving behind territorial marks that he licked at while she dug her nails into his strong body.

He felt weak in the knees holding her. Felt like giving into the intoxicating urge to fuck her with abandon when he heard the soft sounds she made when he touched her, when she pulled at his hair and made him grunt. When she squirmed and dropped her forehead on his shoulder, her chest rising and falling unevenly with stuttered breaths. He made his path down to her breasts. His teeth scraped at her nipples, sucking at the tight buds as she arched into him, inviting him to give her more. He moaned softly, dragging his mouth back up to her face and dropping messy kisses along her jaw until his lips were ghosting over hers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She blinked at him, dazed with his love, her mind hazy with thoughts only of him. She held his face in her hands, confused. She didn’t stay confused much longer because he kissed her. The kiss was slow and breathy which made it even hotter. It was the way he panted against her parted lips when he pulled away—just a few millimetres, just for a millisecond, then lazily pulled her close, cupping the back of her head with one of his hands and slipped his tongue back into her mouth.

He held her waist with his other hand, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, moving himself as close as he could between her parted legs, until his hot cock was touching her warm skin. She gave him control of the kiss, melted into him as his velvety tongue swiped over hers, exploring all of her, feeling the familiar space he’d tasted many times before, until he changed the kiss again.

He pecked her lips once they’d closed up a little, and pressed firmly, like a promise. A promise that only he knew, a promise she was unaware of. She felt content, felt the worry and fear of the Mark of Cain slip from her mind when he started to undo her hair again. He was sucking on her bottom lip and tasting the ghostly remains of her favourite lip tint—rose petals—with a satisfied moan.

Once her hair was free again, he moved his hand back to his cock, and pulled away. Her mouth was red, lips swollen and gorgeous, all he wanted to do was kiss her again but he denied himself the pleasure and instead bit his lip. She moved her hands off him, placed her palms on the table and followed his gaze as he watched himself drag his leaking cock through her weeping folds.

Upon contact with her warmth, he moaned. He felt so aroused, when he towered over her, he had to place one of his hands flat on the table close to her hand to stabilise himself. She was writhing slightly, panting each time he brushed against her swollen clit, and he couldn’t even tolerate his own teasing anymore either.

He kissed her forehead like he always did, aligning the tip of his cock with her entrance and slowly pushed into her. He inspected her face to make sure she was good, groaning at the sight of pleasure that dawned on her face as he pushed in just an inch of himself. He withdrew slightly so she could adjust to the pressure and the stretch of him, then shoved in just a little more.

“Umm,” she whimpered, her hand flattening over his sweaty chest was her silent signal that she felt like she couldn’t take him. She could feel the rapid hammering of his heart against her palm and she clenched around him, eyes locking onto his to see past the madness of his lust, a tender fire that devoured everything else like a hungry beast.

He could read it all in her eyes too, her love, the way her adoring gaze blanketed over his entire soul, making him feel so loved and safe. It made his stomach flutter, made him feel like just pushing all the way in—just to feel closer to her. Instead, he brought his hand to her clit, rubbing slowly as he withdrew again and pushed back in, deeper. “You’re taking me so fucking good, baby,” he reassured her, his voice raspy and thick with lust.

The sound of him so wrecked made her shudder, temporarily closing her eyes and leaning back slightly in hopes of getting him inside her more easily. He kept his pace slow, mindful of her body, her limits, the way he always did as he pushed himself into her. He nuzzled her cheek and kissed her jaw, breathing unstably by her ear, “just a little more,” he murmured, looking away from her eyes to check that there was, in fact, just a bit more of his thick length that she had to take.

She stared at him for a few moments, studied the aroused fascination that brightened his honeydew eyes and with demure hesitation, she let herself look down too. She watched him pull out just a little, revealing how wet she left him and she gasped, a flurry of excited butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

It made him look up at her, his eyes knowing, gleaming with pride. He had her right where he wanted her, he always did. He pushed himself into her all the way, still gentle, he leaned over her a little, his arm wrapping around her waist so she’d hold onto him instead of balancing on the table, letting her adjust as he dropped kisses over her shoulders and the side of her neck. The scrape of his stubble tickled, but she found it more sexy than uncomfortable.

She wiggled beneath him, wrapping one of her arms around his neck with one hand flat on the table as she brought his mouth to hers. “I’m okay,” she murmured against his lips. He nodded and moaned softly, moving his two hands under her thighs, lifting her up slightly until she was only able to hold onto him.

He pulled his hips back and thrusted into her, feeling her arms squeeze him slightly. He cursed under his breath, twitching inside her at the feeling of her walls dragging along his cock. His pace was still slow, his breath catching as he felt the velvety ridges of her wet walls tightening around him. Only the head of his cock remained inside her and he pushed in slowly, his breaths shaky and shallow.

“Y/N,” he moaned, placing her back down when his hips were flush against hers. He gently pushed her down onto her back with a hand on her sternum. He slowly slid his hand down to her tummy, his eyes locked on hers, both of them more patient and tender than usual, but he knew the reason why as his arm ached. He lifted her feet up to the table, spreading her out more, pushing himself all the way---deeper---until he could feel her cervix if he swivelled his hips.

“Dean,” she mewled, her lips parted as she tipped her head back, her eyebrows furrowing while her eyes fluttered close. She reached out for his wrists, her hands sliding up until her hand rested over the Mark, squeezing reassuringly. He looked down at her small hand, her lavender nails creating crescent moons as she tried to reach all the way around his arm. “Please, move,” she finally begged, lifting her hips up a little to encourage him.

He admired her the whole time he started to thrust into her. His eyes stuck on her body as she jolted up the table slightly only for his hands to keep her hips planted where they were. Her breasts jiggled, abandoned and covered in small marks from his mouth and he twitched inside her, a grunt leaving his throat. Everything about her turned him on, the way they locked eyes, like a passing meteor getting pulled in by Earth’s gravity, they could only stare at each other.

He loved her so much, he didn’t want to look away. He needed her more than the air he breathed. She was everything to him. The only reason he smiled everyday, the only reason the weight of his guilt and shame didn’t crush him. It was the tenderness of her eyes like a Magellanic Cloud, the way she cut through the darkness in his life like a galaxy hurtling through space.

He, on the other hand, was a dimming and dying galaxy until she collided with him, dragging him along for the ride and perfectly melding into each other so that her stars were his, so that her planets and her suns also belonged to him, so that he could never remember or comprehend where he began or where he ended, only that he’d always find her at the end of his despair and at the start of every joy.

She brought life to him like a sun, terraforming him, blossoming his withering hopes and dreams. Her love for him grew like the universe itself, every moment expanding into the nothingness beyond, utterly unrestricted.

“Fuck, I…” he whispered brokenly. He couldn’t always bring himself to say ‘I love you’ and it frustrated him how awkward the words felt on his tongue, and it’s not like he’s never said them before. It was terrifying, especially in moments like these. It was serious and it was real. And he felt that that was exactly why he should say those words, that in moments like these it’s exactly the right moment to let them slip out. But he couldn’t. He found them easy to type, to press the button, and send it to her so she could read them.

He momentarily gave up on his admission and brought his hand down to her clit to rub quick circles. Like the final bit of pressure needed for a star to be born, the bursts of pleasure became overwhelming as she clamped down on him, drawing a growl from deep within his chest as she came. His name poured from her lips like traces of stardust and CMBR as she trembled on the table, his thumb slowly drawing out her orgasm as his warm release spurted into her.

He grunted her name mindlessly, swivelling his hips, pushing to keep his cum as deep inside her as physically possible until he was spilling out of her from how full she was. He didn’t care about what Sam would say if he walked in, he only cared about claiming her and filling her up. His soul burned with pride and fervour knowing she’d be wet and full inside for days with his cum as she walked around and worked, that her cunt and clit would be swollen from his usage for the next hours, sore from the penetration of his cock, her skin bruised by his hands and mouth, and her nipples tight from his tongue and fingers.

“Umm,” she started quietly. He snapped out of his daze, a lazy smile growing on his lips as he looked into her soft eyes, but didn’t dare to slip out of her. He lifted a hand to move a few strands of hair away from her flushed face and saw her perk up slightly. “Funny how I was annoying you earlier…” she trailed off, her fingers brushing against the Mark, relaxing him.

He hummed softly, shaking his head. “You’re not annoying,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. She smiled at him, an adoring tenderness radiating from her features like sunlight that flustered him. “I.. I am sorry,” he whispered.

“Hmm? What for?” Her voice was quiet and curious, stunned about his second apology.

“You know.. Crowley, for not calling or texting, for everything before that if I haven’t apologised, and for everything after, just in case I’m too stupid to realise I’m wrong,” he told her, just a little bit of guilt and shame making him look away.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft, like everything else about her, and he looked up at her again when she tugged at his arms. “I’m always going to forgive you,” she informed him, then shut her eyes as if he wasn’t allowed to argue with her. She hummed softly at his thoughtful silence, her hands reaching out for his hips, pulling him into her so he’d brush her cervix again as a way to distract him.

“Sam… He, uh,” Dean paused to laugh sadly, “he gave me the talk.. the ‘don’t hurt her’ talk when you and me started.. dating, when I.. popped outta Hell,” he spoke up randomly. She remembered, it felt like just yesterday he was having nightmares of what he’d done in Hell---even now, there was still the aftermath of Hell affecting him. She lifted a brow, opening her eyes, and tilting her head like a puppy to give him her undivided attention.

Then, she smiled, images of Sam acting like the overprotective brother that Dean once played entertained her. “Oh.”

“I always knew no one could love like you do, and I wanted to.. uh, hold onto that innocence, that goodness in you, your kindness… I thought it’d wither away, but looking at you now, there’s only… more of it. I don’t know how… but you still care and love and feel so deeply.” He finally pulled out of her, biting his lip as he shamelessly watched himself slip out while his cum followed.

“What are you trying to say?” She didn’t notice what he was enthralled by, too caught up in trying to analyse his words, so he blinked away his arousal and picked up his folded shirt to clean her up.

“I don’t wanna taint that, I don’t wanna ruin it, to make you… lose that. I love you so much for it, and I have… this,” he pointed to the Mark on his arm, “so I know I won’t be.. stay good.. like you. I’ll be a demon, just evil, cold, and dark…” he trailed off, focusing on cleaning her up while feeling her eyes probing his very soul without even having to slip into the doors of his eyes.

“Don’t.. do you think… that now, as a human, you’re nothing more than that?” Her voice was quiet, like she didn’t actually want to know the answer, as if it’d break her to know the truth. She shooed his hand away as she sat up, her eyes never once straying from what she could see of his face.

“Well, yeah, I mean, that’s why Cain gave me this thing, because I was worthy or whatever,” he mumbled, busying himself by putting both their dirty clothes into the duffle bag to wash later. “Not something I should be proud of bein’ worthy of,” he muttered, putting his boxers on. She was quiet for a moment and let him dress her in his flannel as she tried to find her next words.

“He’s wrong, he doesn’t know you, not really,” she started. He caged her with his arms, his hands flat on either side of her hips and he finally looked up at her, their faces really close, but far enough for her to see his scepticism. “So, he’s seen like.. point one percent of what you are, you are so much more, Dean.” She hid her face in his neck, kissing his tattoo before she pulled away to add, “I look up to you, so.. if you love who I am, just know it’s because of you… that I am this way..”

“What?” He blinked, pulling back just to make sure he heard right, his brain incapable of retaining the meaning of her words.

“What? You really don’t know?” She asked with disbelief, a sad smile washing over her face. “That’s somewhat endearing actually,” she murmured with a somewhat sad, little laugh. She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, a little sigh drifting between her lips. “The first thing I noticed when I met you was how kind you are. How you took care of Sam.. then I found out you’ve done it all your childhood and you didn’t complain.”

“It wasn’t your job, you could’ve just.. not done it, but you did. With no reward, no thanks, nothing. You could’ve lied and ‘taken care of him’---no one was watching---but you still did it, and he had a better childhood than you. In fact, he’s turned out quite wonderful. You made him want more, made him feel worthy, valuable, which is why he went off to college.”

“You shielded him as much as you could from hunting, that for him there was actually a way out. Something you couldn’t see for yourself because you made it your job to take all the weight. Then, you took care of me and tried doing the same. And.. well, if you love who I am, thank yourself, Dean. You were like a hero to me, different from your dad, different from all the hunters I’d seen, and I thought, ‘this.. he is what I want to be, not a killer, not a thoughtless, violent, bloodthirsty, unchanging hunter---a hero’. I loved you for it back then too.”

“Then, when we were hunting together---all three of us, to look for your dad… I saw more of you.. there were the random kids you saved… how gentle you were---and still are---with them. You’ve shown mercy to monsters, to people who could be considered dangerous. You changed your mind about what hunting’s all about, you’ve evolved past killing anything that isn’t human, you’ve grown, and other hunters stick with the same ‘all monsters are killers and need to die’ motto. You’ve realised that they’re just like us too. That they can be different and.. fuck, if that’s not goodness, then I don’t know what you wanna call it.”

“You’ve done everything you’ve done—even getting this damned Mark—out of love, for the world, or for Sam, or whoever, because you’re good. I’ve seen all these billions of different, tiny, bits and pieces of you, and.. to me.. you’re.. like a whole universe, filled with light, hope, love, life, sadness, pain, grief, and you’re so fucking beautiful I’m just.. overwhelmed with how much I adore you for being who you are. I would never ask you to change.”

“And you’re still trying to save everyone. You, Sam, and even Cas might not always succeed when you try to do something you think is right or good to try to save the ones you love or the world, but the point of being a good man is that you’re even trying at all. No one sees you, no one tells you to, no one thanks you for it, you just help people because it’s right, because it’s the least you could do, above all, you do it because you’re kind, Dean.”

Silence fell over them momentarily as Dean let her words sink in. His mind worked quickly to absorb her sentiment and her love for him, and he wanted to cry. Tears of happiness and adoration stung his eyes and he blinked them away, swallowing past the tightness in his throat that made a strained whimper melt away, stopping it from making its way out.

“Y/N..”

“You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know that, I just want you to hear the truth from someone who loves you and knows who you really are. Someone who accepts you as you are and doesn’t try to change you.. or.. act like all you are is.. bad. I see you, at your core, your very soul and your mind.. all of you… is just.. glorious. Nothing needs to be added to you or changed or removed because you’re already perfect, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a daft cow and their opinions don’t matter, obviously. You’re my everything and I love you,” she murmured, smiling playfully.

“You’re so…” He broke into a smile too, his hands landed on her hips and he pulled her closer to him, their faces inching closer. Close enough for their breaths to make them dizzy with a more tender haze of desire washing over them.

“Shh, let me.. I love you,” she whispered lazily against his lips. She kissed him deeply, both of them smiling and trying not to laugh as their lips moved together.

“You’re delirious,” he mumbled, entertained by her playfulness.

She pulled away from the kiss, her legs wrapping around his hips with her ankles locked together. She nuzzled into his neck again, finding a comfortable position and whispering, “shh, I said I love you, let’s go to sleep.”

“Not in our... bed?” He suggested with a chuckle, kissing her head.

“Oh. Right.. yes.” She pulled away, hopping off the table and fixing his shirt she was wearing. He bit his lip, claiming her waist under the open shirt with his hands. He pushed the shirt open more with his forearms to admire her nakedness.

“It’s okay, I love you.” He smiled like a dork as he kissed her forehead.

“You’re adorable when you say that,” she grinned, circling his waist with her arms. He blinked down at her, his eyes lighting up when he backtracked and remembered what had slipped from his mouth.

“I.. uh, sorry for not saying it more often,” he mumbled, still a little proud of himself for saying it at all.

“Don’t worry. It’s pretty hard for me to say it to you sometimes..” she confessed bashfully. Of course she’d understand that he had difficulty saying those words, as overdue as they were. She knew he’d found other ways to express it, everything he does for her he does out of love. At least now he knows there’s nothing he needs to overthink. She really knows him. She really sees him.

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kyrviu · 2 years ago

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𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞

prompt: realizing they’ve fallen for you

⭒pairings: wanderer, kazuha, tighnari, and xiao x gn! reader.

⭒genre: fluff

⭒warnings: none!

⭒authors note: happy new year! long time no see, I took a week off right after finals because I desperately needed it lmao uni kicked my ass this semester. now that I'm back the requests are open! not to mention that I’ll be working on 3 fics after this one. in the meantime, please enjoy ♡

wanderer

“i simply can't stop thinking about them, it's driving me crazy”.

when you're not looking, he can't help but sneak glances at you. his eyes move to every little detail about you, from your eyes to your smile to the way your hair moves in the wind. he could sit for hours sitting and admire you.

your heart starts to race as you feel his eyes on you. you contemplate his apparent interest in you. 'why is he staring at me' you think to yourself. you switch your attention to him and prepare to ask him if anything is wrong. to prevent you from catching him, he will quickly retaliate by turning his head away. however, you could still see redness edging its way up his cheeks and ears.

everyone is aware that the wanderer rarely laughs or smiles. he maintains a constant, strong, and mysterious demeanor. the wanderer's mystery can be traced to the fact that he has encountered more pain and sorrows in life than other people.

however, he occasionally lets his strong exterior slip when he is alone. he would unwind and occasionally he talks about his adventures with you and things he saw along the way halfway through the conversation he even grins in your direction.

then it hits him…

the wanderer is in love with you.

kazuha

"hold my hand"

everyone around you knows you two belong to each other, It almost seems too nice to be true how well attuned you are to one another. You are permanently attached to his side, otherwise, he would start looking for you. He can't stand to be apart from you even for a second.

however, if only kazuha would realize.

if only kazuha would realize that friends don’t play flirtatiously with each other. There are moments when it goes on for too long and you can't know if it's a joke or not anymore, making you both stutter and shyly look away from one another, hoping your hearts would calm down.

if only he’d realize that friends don’t feel sparks around them whenever one of you touches the other accidentally. Whether it’s a quick graze or when he holds your hand longer than usual while walking around.

without a doubt, friends do not compose haikus and poems about one another. whenever he wrote a haiku about you or about something special you witnessed together, he would always read to you quietly as you were curled up by his side

Why hasn't he noticed that what we do is more than simply friends? you keep wondering. It's quite frustrating not to know where you guys stand anymore since the lines are so blurred. As soon as you notice him moving towards you while smiling gently at the sight of you, all of your thoughts immediately scatter away. you would rather stay like this than ruin everything you guys have with one another.

Little did you know he’s secretly loved you all along.

tighnari

“ don’t overwork yourself for my sake (y/n)”.

even though tighnari is a researcher & a forest ranger words and communication aren’t his best forte especially when he’s around you. to him it’s the little gestures he does for you that speak louder than any form of words would.

always has your best interests in mind. He always makes you a cup of coffee whenever you are helping him with his research, working through the night.

tighnari would ask if you were all right when he notices that you started rubbing your eyes from exhaustion.

However, despite the coffee, you still managed to fall asleep in the midst of all of your papers and research that piled up at your desk. tighnari smiles as he makes his way over to you and drapes a blanket over your sleeping body.

watching how peaceful and comfortable you seem to be sleeping. smiling softly, he leans down and whispers into your ears. “sweet dreams, my love”. you are unsure if you heard him clearly or not due to how worn out you are, thus you decide to disregard it for now.

one thing for sure is you both are obliviously pinning for one another.

xiao

"i wanna show you something".

it takes place during the lantern rite, similar to the wanderer, xiao would steal looks your way to admire how the lantern illuminated your face and cast a soft glow into your eyes. as the two of you were walking around you can feel the air filled with the spirit of the festival and the enthusiasm of those around you.

little kids are seen rushing around with lanterns. you also notice that many of your friends are gathered in smaller groups to enjoy the festivities. when they wave at you and xiao, you smile to yourself the joy on their faces rubs off on you making you wave back eagerly.

since practically everyone attending the lantern rite is either accompanied by people who are close to them or couples, there is still tension in the air between the two of you. however, as much as xiao means to you. you and him are just friends, right?

you both attempt to avoid crowds as much as you can, therefore xiao suggests a location that not many people are aware of. He whispers softly, "you can see everything from up here”. It was a location on top of a mountain next to large buildings where you could view the entirety of liyue harbor, the mountains in the distance, and the sea shimmering from all of the lights that decorate the sky.

perhaps its the atmosphere of the festivities, or maybe it's the reality that he is by himself with you, or maybe the awe on your face as you take in the scenery is all he needs to see to know he loves you.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha headcanons #genshin headcanons #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin fanfic #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin fluff #gender neutral reader #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #gender neutral fanfic

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wheeboo · 1 year ago

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seventeen as wave to earth songs

FEATURING. seventeen (ot13) GENRE. headcanons WARNINGS. none WORD COUNT. 1.3k

notes: i thought n wrote this within the hours of 3-4 am because my brain couldn’t fight the urge even tho no one asked for this lmao ;; im blaming this seungkwan edit on tiktok that conspired me to do this. a lot of ppl have prob done this but this is my take (some of them were HARD) :') honestly any of these can be switched around

choi seungcheol as calla

the first word i associated with this song is "devotion", and my mind immediately thought of cheol. he is the definition of loyalty and puts in his all when it comes to love and towards whoever his calla will be. he has the power of reassurance and hope, and this can also be interpreted vice versa will cheol being the "calla" of the relationship--the one who may be withering away inside, so he needs that other half to supply him with the rain that he needs to grow

"But Calla, you can always grow back, oh If you don't have enough sunlight I'll blow the clouds away, Calla Bloom yourself until the end"

yoon jeonghan as daisy.

jeonghan as daisy just MAKES SENSE?? he is the splash of colour within a simplistic life, a constant source of happiness even in the most mundane situations. i just love the vibrant feels of this song and it makes me imagine a scenario of running down the beach holding hands with him. seeing his presence just never fails to brighten up my day up, and its just a very comforting song in general which reminds me sm of him

"Oh, daisy, it's my happiness to run into you Life always goes on and on But, I'll live with you forever So, be my daisy"

joshua hong as bad

the instrumentals of the song gives me joshua vibes. and just like the lyrics, how can the sight of joshua's smile/just him in general not make your day even better? for some reason i also had an imagination of him serenading someone with this song plsss, it would be so swoonworthy to hear that. its such a romantic song abt finding joy and happiness in your loved one, and i think joshua has a lot of love inside of him

"How could my day be bad when I'm with you? You're the only one who makes me laugh So how can my day be bad? It's a day for you"

wen junhui as light

the constant mention of the moon and the sky just gives me jun energy. i don't know if the word quirky is the right word to call this song (probably not, now that i think abt it, maybe more calm) but its a word i would definitely describe jun with. he's always a person who tries his best to shine as much as he could and he's just someone you can rely on yk

"You are my sea, you are my sunshine The star, the moon"

kwon soonyoung as pink

this song is just very... freeing and nostalgic? and it reminds of me soonyoung where everything just feel so liberating and free when it comes to being with him. his spirit just seems to rid of any worries just so easily, and it kind of reminds me of the sunset, where the colour pink is shown, and just like the song says- it's such a beautiful colour just like him

"During the sunset The pink light is clear It drew you, the beautiful you Your image" (translation may not be accurate because it's in full korean)

jeon wonwoo as seasons

someone had to be seasons and it was such a hard choice of who to give this song to but ultimately, i picked wonwoo. this song is just so bittersweet and melancholic. it holds so many heartfelt emotions inside of it but also so many unhappy emotions as well. it displays vulnerability and how that kind of feeling can feel burdensome to those around you and overall, i feel like he is the more perfect choice for this song tbh

"Oh my life is fallin' apart Maybe no one will notice if I disappear But I'll pray for you all the time If I could be by your side I'll give you all my life, my seasons"

lee jihoon as wave

i absolutely adore the instrumentals of this song sm. it's about embracing the unknown with someone special and i feel like the kinda fits with jihoon very well. i just love the symbolism of waves and stars in the song and how it symbolises this desire to adventure and traverse thru the unknown. i also think jihoon is very introspective n knowing that nothing lasts forever, but with the wave being mentioned that will last forever just,, perfectly contrasts with that? this was a bit hard to explain asljkdlas n made more sense in my head

"When you spoke to me, The words are like a floating star Now I'm next to you The waves will take us far away"

xu minghao as ride

the lyrics of the song is basically describing someone else being your safe space, and i definitely think minghao is that. he is the type of person whose presence is an easy source of comfort to whatever sort of emotional baggage one may hold. he's simply just the definition of the word comfort and to me, is what this song gives

"I'm on a ride Ride You are my city Everything"

kim mingyu as peach eyes

mingyu is just the type of person whose eyes seem to hold SO MUCH love or appear so lovestruck? or just him in general tbh--he just seems to hold so much love and is willing to dump that all for the person he adores w all his life. like eyes can carry so much within them istg. this song is also more on the cheery and upbeat side and i definitely think that resonates w the type of person that he is

"Peach eyes and blue skies It's on the moonlight, how many songs I write You'll be my sunlight, how could I not rely On you, peach eyes?"

lee seokmin as sunny days

the sun = seokmin hello?? i love the description of nature in this song and it reminds me of walking in the park on a sunny afternoon with him and it's just so perfect, like how everything is just so insignificant without the presence of the other person aka him. it's a golden type of love where it doesn't waver even as time goes by, and i can definitely see that with seokmin

"You are my golden age Evеrything shines so bright That my eyes go blind Our youth never ages here"

boo seungkwan as love.

this is my favourite wave to earth song btw. it may just be me being very biased but listening to the song while thinking of him just FITS him? the song is literally abt the strength of love thru hardships, being someone with a fragile heart, and reminds me of those types of hugs where it just feels... right? like everything is simply okay? the song makes me ascend each time i listen to it on full blast, and boo never fails to make me ascend with not just his voice, but his care and the amount of love he carries in himself, his strength, just HIM

"My little heart too Like small waves in it Broken and pushed back Melting into you Only then can I see my eternity" (translation may not be accurate because it's in full korean)

vernon chwe as so real

the instrumentals in this song esp at the end are so superior btw. other than that, despite the calm vibes this song emits just like vernon, it's also a song about feeling stuck, about being lost in your emotions. not that i'm assuming vernon is feeling this way, but in general, it reminds me of that feeling being alone in your own world which i think suits him with this song more than others

"I can't explain Where I'm buried now An empty vein You'll never understand"

lee chan as surf.

this song has such an uplifting and upbeat vibe and it's about enjoying the time that you have, even though it's temporary, and living in the moment spending time with yourself and also those that you love as well. the lyrics make me smile so much, and i definitely think chan fits the song very well because i def think he has this power to charge others (like his members) with energy just by being himself

"Dance my babe, dance my friends We don't have much time to enjoy Just sing it my babe Bigger than you ever did We don't have much time to enjoy Our time will be gone someday But I'm okay Life is like surfin' anyway"

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae

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bamboozledbird · 1 month ago

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HOWLING: TST Rewrite // Prev. / Chapter 3 / Next.

Characters: Thomas, fem!reader, Newt, Aris, Teresa (bg), Minho (bg), Frypan (bg), Winston (bg) Pairing(s): Thomas x Reader (the slowest of burns as is my brand) Word Count: 4.2k Tags: Mix of book and movie canon, newt!sister!reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, heavy gore and violence this chapter, sad times are ahead my friends

A/N: What is a writing schedule. I certainly don't have one anymore. Right now the inspo is only pulling me here bc she is a fickle, fickle mistress. Also, if you've only seen the movies, you might be a bit confused. Cranks are different in the books; they don't look like zombies exactly. The longer they remain a crank, the more injuries they get from fighting each other or hurting themselves bc they're, y'know, tragically insane. They can usually talk too, but they sound real messed up and, again, insane. From here on out, the lore will probably blend between movie and book based on what I remember the best lmao. Taglist: @m30wk1ttycat @mxltifxnd0m

You’ve heard about cranks. You know all the technical terms and definitions. WCKD told you about all of the stages, described the slow descent into madness during their lengthy justification of your two years in hell. They said the worst part is just before the end, when you know you’re about to turn, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. That’s when they leave, they said. That’s when they banish themselves to the hidden societies of the damned—the violent, savage world of the Gone.

None of it prepared you for witnessing it first-hand.

Thomas turns towards you, and his smile immediately twists into panic—though, panic isn’t quite right. You’ve seen Thomas panicked before, often, in fact. It seems to be a constant with him; there’s always a little bit of unease crawling under his skin.

This is something else.

Thomas is in front of you, breathing heavily against your skin, before you can think of a better word. He grabs your arm and yanks you into his chest so quickly your shoulder clicks under the strain.

A loud shriek answers all of the questions furrowing your brow.

A girl—an almost girl, throws herself against the chain link fence you were just leaning on. She snarls around the wire, teeth gnashing together without any regard for her tongue. Foam gathers at the corners of her mouth and dribbles down her chin. She’s more animal than human.

You know the terminology, Past the Gone; it doesn’t make this any easier. It doesn’t make this easier at all.

The first thing you notice is how small she is. There are more pressing things that require your attention—like the deep gashes carved into her skin and the large scars spread across her cheeks to her browbones. And her eye sockets. Fuck, her eye sockets are hollow and obscured with pink knitted tissue—and that’s when you realize exactly what the scars are from. She clawed her own eyes out.

Such horrific, grisly details, and all you think about is how small she is. You finally realize what she’s screaming. Help me. She’s screaming, ‘Help me.’

“Come on,” Thomas tugs on your arm again and pulls you further away from the screaming, “we gotta move. We gotta move now.”

A crank rushes from the shadows. A man this time, missing his nose, and you shudder through your shoulders when you notice the bite marks around the exposed nasal cavity.

Thomas drags you forward by your hand, forcing you to keep up with his sprint. His feet are nimble as they are quick; he snakes away from the cranks emerging from the darkness without missing a step. Your rhythm is a little less fluid, but every time you trip over a sudden pivot or scattered plywood, Thomas’s grip on your wrist hauls you back onto your feet. It hurts a little. Thomas’s blunt nails dig into the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, and his fingers squeeze the delicate bones hard enough to bruise—and you’ve never been more grateful for anything in your life.

You can hear the thrum of your blood rushing in your ears, your feet slamming against the concrete, and the muddy sound of someone shouting through the fog of adrenaline. Nothing else seems real.

Thomas has to scream directly in your face to cut through the haze. “Hold ‘em shut.”

The world refocuses with harrowing clarity.

There’s chilling laughter on the other side of the door, and Thomas clutches at your shoulder with his free hand. He nods towards the thin sheets of metal and glass separating you from savage teeth and feral eyes. “Hold ‘em shut.” You don’t have the mental capacity to question him.

It takes your full weight to keep the horde of cranks from breaking through the doors, and you know you can’t manage it for long. Your heels start to slip against the floor, and you can just barely hear Thomas over the sound of your boots squealing and cranks asking for, ‘just a little taste.’

Thomas yells, barks really, “Get out of the way,” from the corner, and you do.

You trust him in this primal state. You can’t decide if that means more than how you feel about him when you’re in your right mind—and then a large filing cabinet crashes to the floor and wakes you from your temporary stupor.

Thomas takes your hand again and rushes forward. He can’t decide, it seems, whether he should keep you behind him or in front of him, but it doesn’t matter when a double escalator, broken-down and cluttered with debris from the ceiling, separates you. Your feet remember what to do now that you’re on your own.

You turn a corner, and a sudden burst of air whooshes through your lungs when you see that the rest of the group is okay. Newt cups a hand over his eyes and squints. You can see the exact moment he finally hears what Thomas is shouting, and then again when he sees the creatures nipping at your heels.

Newt’s eyes somehow grow wider, and you think, for a moment, that they might just engulf his entire face. “Oh shit.”

Newt, fool-heartedly, doesn’t start running until you reach him. You grab his hand and wish you had the breath and time to shake the stupid right out of him.

“What in the ever-loving hell are those things?” Newt shouts, close to your ear.

You wrench him forward with a harsh tug when he tries to look over his shoulder again. “Oh you know,” you wheeze slightly as you snag a broken piece of rebar from the ground, “just Thomas and his groupies.”

“Well tell’em to take a bite outta him, then.”

You feel a little pinch of guilt in your gut as Newt’s struggles with his bad leg—but you don’t let up your pace. You jerk him forward every time his joints get stuck or he trips over his uneven footing. Better he have an aching leg than no leg at all.

“What about the ones without ears?” You manage a flash of a smile, more of a spasm really, and Newt exhales a sharp breath of air that feels like a laugh.

He yelps when you pull him away from a pair of cranks on your right, swallowing the snark poised on his sharp tongue. Two more cranks swarm from the left, and Newt tries to push you in front of him, but you beat him to it. You shove him up the next set of escalators and stay a step behind him, ready to push him—hell, ready to carry him up the flight of stairs if need be. You’d figure it out; adrenaline can make a person do crazy things, after all.

A crank manages to get ahold of your jacket, and Newt falters. “Go,” you shove Newt with one hand and rip your other through your jacket sleeve. You can’t even feel the ache in your broken thumb, not with the panic sparking through every single one of your synapses. “Get out of here.”

The crank still has a hold of your empty sleeve, and it seems like she isn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. You swing the rebar into her arm and twist out of the other sleeve, sending your denim jacket and the crank spiraling down a long descent to the floor.

Newt is waiting at the top of the stairs, and you give him the fiercest glower you can manage while struggling for air. “I told you to go,” you snap.

Newt takes your hand this time and rolls his eyes—impressively flippant given your current situation. “Yeah, well you aren’t the boss of me, are ya? I’ve already got one friend with a god complex; don’t need two.”

Your lungs are burning, and your head is throbbing, and you’re too tired to launch into a tirade about just exactly how stupid he is. “Should be,” you hiss through your gasps. “You make terrible decisions.”

“I’m older.” You’re sure if Newt could breathe without coughing, he would be sticking his tongue out at you.

“Senile, you mean,” you reply, smugly and with emphasis. You can see the door ahead. It’s so close; you think you might just make it.

Glass shatters behind you, and you’re filled with an all-encompassing sense of dread when Newt doesn’t snark back.

Your head whips around just in time to see a crank crash into Newt.

Newt falls. It happens instantly and endlessly—and you run straight towards the crank on top of him before you even realize you need to. It’s instinct. Something deeper inside your mind than a thought. Something written in your bone marrow, coded in your DNA.

Something WCKD can’t erase.

You smash the bar against his—it, you think with an edge of desperation—its skull. The sound of the cranks' bones shattering makes your stomach turn and your eyes water. You have just enough time to kick it off of Newt and pull him to his feet.

You don’t let go of his hand this time. You keep your sweaty palms, grimy with dust and dirt, pressed together until you see moonlight.

When you finally stop moving, your legs give out on you. You fall to the ground and lean back against a frigid wall. For a long time, all you can hear is soft panting; it’s almost comforting—a reminder that you aren’t alone. You’re surrounded by humanity, maybe even friends in another life. You allow yourself to burn your fingertips on the thought as your eyelids droop towards your cheekbones.

The shelter Thomas found isn’t very hospitable; the walls are precariously balanced slabs of broken concrete, and the only seats to be found are jagged pieces of rubble and rusted steel barrels. Perhaps, that’s why the cranks give up their search, or maybe it’s closer to dawn than you think. Frankly, you’re fine with either option. Your legs have jellified, and the others don’t look much better.

After a long, arduous hour, Thomas shifts and deems it safe enough to talk. He keeps his voice low. You can’t hear what he’s saying to Teresa and his other friend—Min…something, you try to recall, definitely something with an ‘M’—but you’re pretty sure it’s about Winston. You do know Winston’s name. It’s the least you can do after he was nearly shredded in two while giving you enough time to escape.

Winston’s quiet groaning masks the rest of their conversation. Selfishly, you’re more concerned about Newt anyway, and the feeling is far too familiar for comfort.

You nudge at Newt’s ankle with an admittedly pathetic kick. “Prop your leg on that,” you nod towards a chunk of concrete in front of him.

Newt’s head lulls towards you, heavily, like it's going to snap off of his slender neck and roll to the ground. “Already told ya’, you're not the boss’f me,” he mumbles, words slurring together with his melting eyelids.

You roll your eyes and huff, “It’ll help with the swelling.” You kick at his leg again, and you keep nudging him until he complies with a sigh so heavy it makes you roll your eyes once more.

He lifts his leg with shaky arms and drops it on top of the rubble without ceremony. “Happy?”

You stick your tongue out at him, just because you can, and give him a vexing smirk. “Exceedingly.”

Newt mutters something under his breath that you don’t bother to acknowledge. He’s a blink away from sleep anyway.

You close your eyes, but you can’t fall asleep. You can’t tell if it’s lingering adrenaline or simply because you’re a bad sleeper, even when you aren’t sleeping on concrete. It’s the dreams. They come for you most nights, and they’re never sweet. They’re caked with blood and laden with grief.

You sit up and pull your knees to your chest. Your cracked lips curve into a fond smile when you see Newt clutch your backpack close to his chest, like a child with their favorite blanket. Or their teddy bear. You swallow and scrub at your eyes. That girl in the cage, what was left of her anyway—she couldn’t have been more than six.

The back of your neck prickles with the warmth of someone’s, or something’s, attention. You slant your head towards the sensation and meet Thomas’s gaze. His eyes are dark in the starless sky, almost black, but they still shine with concern. Worry. He’s always worried, you’ve noticed. Always on edge, waiting for something to lurch out of the shadows, waiting for something else to be taken from him.

Thomas tilts his head a little and then nods towards a pile of sand a little ways away from the concrete cave.

Dawn is just beginning to settle over the desert, and the sand looks golden in the light of the rising sun. A little sigh of relief slips through your lips—Cranks don’t like the sun. Honestly, at the peak of day, you can’t blame ‘em.

Thomas slips out of his corner and holds his hand out towards you. You look at it for a second, chew on your bottom lip, and then take it. He lets go after he pulls you to your feet, and your skin immediately misses the warmth.

You’ve come to find that the Scorch is a cruel, cruel mistress. It varies between freezing and blistering, and you can’t help but find it incredibly unfair. Silly compared to everything else, maybe, but it irks you all the same.

You watch the beginnings of daybreak with Thomas by your side. After you let out a soft exhale, Thomas tips his chin down to look at you.

“You okay?” he says quietly. You aren’t sure if the quiet is for you, or the sleeping Gladers, or the stillness of early morning—but it’s nice all the same.

“Uh huh,” you yawn it more than you say it.

“Your hand?” Thomas presses, crooking his head down to examine your bruised thumb in the faint light.

“S’okay,” you shrug and shudder. You can’t really tell if it’s the residual chill of night or the ache in your thumb. In the end, Thomas decides for you. He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders.

Thomas is left in a gray t-shirt that looks as thin as your tank top. You frown at his bare arms and tilt your head up at him, “Now you’ll be cold.”

He shrugs, a little sheepish. It makes you smile. “I run warm.”

You rest your fingertips against his forearm and shiver as his chilled skin leeches the warmth from your fingers. “Liar,” you hum, but a tiny smile wiggles across your lips.

Thomas bites his lip, “I’ll be fine once I’m in my sleeping bag.”

Your lips purse, and your eyes narrow, “You gonna go put on your sleep bag, then?”

He gives you a little grin, “Maybe. I think I could pull it off.”

You think that he could, indeed, pull it off. Truly, Thomas could pull anything off, and you think it’s also incredibly unfair that a person can be so infuriating and so pretty all at the same time.

You dig the toe of your boot into the sand and wrap Thomas’s jacket tighter around your torso. “If I asked you a question, would you tell me the truth?” He frowns, and you suppose that’s fair. It’s a loaded question, especially compared to the weather.

Thomas turns towards you and catches your illusive gaze, “Yes.”

You trap your lip between your teeth and look up at him with big, blinking eyes. It’s not the answer you expected, and you think that he might be the only person in the world who’d give it.

“Do you think we’re gonna make it?” you ask quietly. You glance out at the imposing horizon, a wasteland of nothing but sand and the sparse remnants of a world that’s almost extinct. You look back at Thomas, searching his face with bloodshot eyes. “Do you really think we’ll ever stop being afraid? That someday we’ll be…” your nose scrunches as you scour your mind for the right word. When you find it, you wonder if it was part of the girl WCKD wiped away, if that’s why it took you so long to unearth. “Free,” you finish quietly, “do you really believe that someday we’ll be free?”

Thomas doesn’t answer for a long time, and then he flickers his gaze to your face. His eyes are so big, lined with dark lashes that kiss his freckles. Like a fawn, you muse, he has the eyes of a fawn. Right now, they’re resolved. “I have to,” he finally answers, quiet again, another thing for you to keep.

The corner of your mouth tugs into a soft smile, sad too, “That’s not really an answer.”

Thomas shrugs slightly, and his mouth falls into a hard line. “It has to be.”

You chew on your cheek and his answer. He did what you asked, you suppose. You asked for honesty, not logic. Dropping to the sand, you trace little swirls in the grains with deft fingers and hum, “Can I ask you another question?”

He nods and sits down next to you.

“How do you…” you shake your head a little and struggle for meaning, “do it.”

Thomas’s brow pinches, “It?”

You run your tongue over your teeth, scraping away the grit of sand stuck between your molars, and shrug. It takes you a moment to come up with a question he can actually answer. “Care,” you look at him through your lashes and rest your cheek against your knee. Your jeans scratch your skin, but it’s a distant feeling against the warmth radiating from the sand below. “How do you care so much and still have something left?” You can’t think of the right word for ‘something’, but Thomas seems to understand this time. Good. You certainly don’t.

“I don’t know. I just…have to.” Thomas winces a little at his repetition, but when he glances at you, he has a slight smile on his face. “Why are you asking me? You do it just fine.”

You aren’t sure why it offends you so, but it does. “I do not.”

You kick a little pile of sand and watch it burst in the air. You imagine for a moment that the grains are stars, or fireworks, or something other than a product of a world destroyed. You realize eventually that Thomas went quiet again.

He’s looking at you when you glance over your shoulder. His face is creased with whatever thought is sharpening his eyes. They’re more gold than brown in direct sunlight, and right now it feels like they’re molten, like he’s burning through your skin, your bones, your air. You can feel him seeing you, and you have to look into the face of the sun to make it stop.

“I saw you,” Thomas says quietly.

Your eyes water from the glaring light. You divert your gaze towards your shoes and snort, “Not this again.”

Thomas grins a little, but it turns into something much softer when says, “I saw you in there, with the bear, and then with Newt…in-between all the screaming and running for our lives obviously,” his cheek twitches with a wry smile, “I still saw what you did for him. It was the only reason I felt like I could get us out of there, knowing you had his back.”

“Lead, you mean,” you tease with a wicked grin, “you led us out because you’re the leader. Grand Marshal Thomas—daintiest feet in all the land.” It’s a clear deflection, one Thomas doesn’t take.

“And then after, with his leg,” Thomas makes you look at him with his unwavering focus, “you care. You care a lot.”

You pause, suddenly feeling far less playful. You stand up and brush the sand off of your jeans, turning away from the sun and the light in Thomas’s earnest expression. “Yeah, well, I don’t care about saving the world. I just want to save him.”

Thomas is by your side again, and you can’t understand why. He stops you with a hand on your shoulder; his eyes are alarmingly piercing. “I don’t even know if the world can be saved—but I am going to save us. All of us. I promise.”

Your mouth parts, and all you can do is stare at him, eyes wide, heart thudding. The others start to stir, sparing you from coming up with a coherent response to...that. You walk away from Thomas and his disarming sincerity before you start to evaporate with the burning sun.

You offer Newt a hand when you find him, and then immediately withdraw it when a smirk slides across his face.

Newt props himself up on his elbows and blows his flop of feathery hair out of his eyes, “Are you going to make a habit of wandering off with Tommy? I already have a hard enough time keeping track of him.”

You rolls your eyes and nudge his shoulder with your knee, “Thought we already established that I’m the bos—”

A low, agonized groan cuts through the quiet chatter.

The makeshift bandages wrapped around Winston’s torso are soaked through with blood. The worst of the pooling is almost black, and crimson seeps out from the center of his wound to the hem of his shirt. He struggles to sit up, and one of his friends is quick to lend a hand.

You’ve seen enough people die from blood loss to know the odds.

You swallow the thought and take Newt’s hand for balance as you climb down a steep pile of concrete and rebar. Everyone looks at Winston when they take a moment to breathe. It’s not discreet, but it can’t be helped. It seems like everyone knows what’s to come when they see how far away the mountains are. It’s going to take days to get there, maybe longer, and Winston doesn’t have days. He might not even have hours. It’s unspoken, and it looms overhead like the searing heat of the sun.

When Winston tumbles down the sand dune, you can see it in their eyes. They know.

It’s a desperate, crawling feeling, knowing and not being able to do anything about it. You’ve felt it before, and when you look at the misery in their faces, you feel it again. You don’t know what to say. Don’t know what to do. Don’t know how to help when they’re about to lose another friend.

No one says much in the end. The boys load Winston onto a dodgy stretcher crafted from what little you could find in a desolate sea of sand and ruins. Frypan and Minho struggle through the sand with the added weight of their friend, but you wonder if it’s helping, being able to help in some small way. You wonder if anything can.

Aris ends up by your side, and you let him take your hand. You still aren’t sure how old he is—neither is he, to be fair—but he’s always felt…small. Strange, considering he towers over most of the group B girls, but he does. He’s scrawny, and awkward, and shy—and yet another person you can’t do anything for.

“You know them,” Aris says quietly, simply.

You glance over your shoulder at Newt. His face is grim as he mutters something to Teresa. “Not really.”

Aris tilts his head, ducking his eyes away from the glare reflecting off the dunes in the distance. “You did once.”

“Was that even me?” You’d let out an exasperated sigh, but opening your mouth for that long seems like a bad idea with the wind picking up behind you.

His bony shoulder lifts with a tiny shrug, “You can know them now.”

Biting down on your cheek, you shake your head and look over your shoulder briefly. The sun reflects off of the thick lines of slow, silent tears slipping down Frypan’s face, and Minho looks like he’s about to bite off his own tongue with the effort to hold back his own.

“What’s the point?” you say it so quietly you think you might have imagined it, that maybe this is all a horrible dream, and you’ll wake up frozen to the Maze walls in the morning.

Aris squeezes your hand, and you sigh. He’s real. This is real. Another nightmare that’s bled into daylight.

“I think he can do it.” Aris nods towards Thomas’s back. “I think he’s the right one.”

“Pretty risky,” you drawl, digging your nails into your palm when you hear Winston cry out in pain, “making a pigheaded kid with a death wish into Jesus bloody Christ. Good way to crush your faith.”

Aris looks at you, in that startlingly perceptive way he does when he’s working out a puzzle, and then smiles a little. It’s a smidge, but it’s there.

Your brow arches, “What?”

“He sounds a lot like you.”

Your scoff is lost to the gale cutting across the desert. It whips against your cheeks, and the gusts of sand billowing in its path blind you.

Thomas shouts something in the distance. You can’t hear him over the wind wailing in your ears, but you can guess what he's saying. There’s no choice but to take shelter until the storm passes.

You hope that tonight’s nightmares will at least be a little sweeter than what awaits you when you wake.

#tmr thomas #thomas tmr x reader #tmr thomas x reader #tmr newt #thomas tmr #newt tmr #thomas x reader #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #thomas tmr imagine #tmr thomas imagine

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txttletale · 1 year ago

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hi occasional blog reader first time caller. now nobody cares or asked but what i think is a little shitty abt so many of the submersible death jokes is that "hell yeah they deserve to die as horribly as possible" seems such a prevalent take among ostensible leftists. idc much abt the submersible guys either way but i dont like the punitive mentality. surely at least in theory chomping at the bit to see someone Get What's Coming To Them is not very emancipatory politics

yeah i mean on an abstract level i agree that the idea of anyone 'deserving' anything should not be a serious element of any socialist politic. but on the other hand, it's not like all the commies cracking jokes on the computer personally loaded these guys into the sub themselves, or like any amount of ill-wishes or mean-spirited jokes were what caused the catastrophic implosion, right? i think all these kinds of jokes (and 'officer down' and jokes about the queen etc.) aren't meaningful political praxis and i don't think anyone believes they are. politics to me is what you Do, not what you Feel or Say--politics is contained within actions only. like everyone having a laff about this is (and i say this in a value-neutral way, not the chud way) virtue-signalling.

it's a reaction to constant exhortations by the media and culture at large that we take seriously and solemnly the suffering of people who have made vast fortunes on the much greater suffering of thousands of working class people they exploit and abuse. if five poor people had died in a submarine collapse i guarantee none of those people would have given a shit--so it might seem crass, but i think saying 'lol. lmao. Good.' is a fair response to the media coverage of this situation framing it as something that we should care about at all. it's a loud and in-your-face rejection of the culture that prioritizes the lives of rich dipshits over the lives of hundreds or thousands of working class people

#hermathena #ask #nobody be mean to asker please everyone nicey on computer

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its-all-papaya · 2 months ago

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My god, you genius you.

Im obsessed. I see the vision. I love the idea of lando being this hot mess dad. Like yeah he’s a little all over the place and he probably drops his kid off still in his pjs and messy hair but also he hugs her goodbye and kisses her forehead at drop off and is always up to date on everything going on in his daughters life.

He always worries he’s not good enough for Emma and when Oscar comes into their lives he worries even more bc Oscar ends up being so naturally good with her. Maybe sometimes he even worries that Emma is starting to like Oscar more than him.

But then maybe something happens (she gets hurt or scared maybe) and Oscar is with her but the whole time she is just only asking for Lando. Bc even though she loves Oscar, Lando is her dad and she will still look to him when she needs it most. And maybe that’s how lando realizes that Oscar brings them a certain balance they were missing.

Oh! And maybe Oscar realizes how much he needed to have some sort of constant in his life to counter the pressures of a face paced environment that comes with racing. He’s a bit homesick and misses that simplicity of being around a family since he’s been away from home since age 14. So when he meets lando and Emma he realizes that this could be that constant for him that he needed.

Anyways I’ll stop here for now, apologies for the insane amounts of rambling. This is genuinely my favorite trope and I love going off about it

- Dad!lando anon lmao

right, so. the word doc has been opened. the outline is being outlined. i remembered a moment ago that fp3 is in the exact mathematical middle of my normal sleep schedule, so perhaps this will keep me up until then? who's to say.

lando is canon going to overthink everything in his life, and that for sure extends to his daughter, ur so right. like sure, he knows she loves him, but sometimes he still wonders whether she wouldn't rather have a normal family, with a mum AND a dad who ate homemade meals at the dinner table every night and shit. and oscar is for sure lonely alone in england or monaco or wherever, hates coming home to his big empty flat every monday and getting a million texts after every podium and none of them ever meaning anything to him. they will be so good for each other. this is going to consume my brain forever.

anyway, thank you for your service, dad lando anon ! my other wip's are absolutely weeping rn, but... it's kid fic. i couldn't say no. MWAH.

#answered #dad lando #landoscar

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oceanofsinners · 1 year ago

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Yan mental hospital patient x their sweet, oblivious therapist<3

[mdni, or do, i really couldn’t care less i’m not your parents. uhhh tw/cw for: violence, attempted murder i guess?? one small suggestive comment i had to add lmao, manipulation, general yandere stuff y'know? lmk if i should add anything else. also first post omg??]

Dakota was tired of the plain white walls, the doors with locks from the outside only, and the constant surveillance and prying eyes of the place he grew to see as his “home” because of his very frequent visits.

He constantly went to the mental institution, leaving for only a few days before coming back.

Younger kids and visitors looked up to him, and he enjoyed their company, despite not understanding why they did. He let them touch his scars and braid his hair. He was an excellent role model, despite it all.

Dakota found the schedule of getting up, getting vitals checked, going to breakfast, doing group therapy and so on annoying, as anyone would.

Some days, he lays in bed — till a security guard comes and drags him out — wondering, “how the hell is this boring, horrible, stuffy place supposed to fix people?”

He never understood. And he doubted that he ever would. Till you came. Then, it seemed, like all his old problems solved themselves and fresh problems arose. [including the one in his pants.]

He's been through multiple therapists, older and younger, brand new and those who've been here for years. None can help him. Instead, he just lies till he's released. And then comes back within days. [always having to be restrained by multiple cops, coming back kicking and screaming that he's going to kill himself and everyone else.]

However, as soon as he saw you, his day brightened immediately. Other staff members were reasonably shocked that the gloomy, mean, depressed, easily upset, violent Dakota seemed...happy for once.

Except, you're not his therapist. He's pissed. Of course he is, you're the first person he's ever liked in this stupid fucking place! [don't mention the fact the two of you haven't even met.]

With a little asking [blackmailing.] around, he learns who's your patient. His name being Quinn, it's around 3 pm, around the time where everyone's free to do whatever, and just before therapy starts. Perfect!

He walks up to the guy who's your patient, swiping a pencil off the kids' table. [none of which protest, knowing by now that it's best they don't.]

Dakota taps Quinn on the shoulder, making the shorter guy turn around, his mouth open to say something, before a sharp scream escapes instead.

Dakota has a crooked grin on his face as he forces the pencil further into the guys eye socket, yanking it out as Quinn drops to the floor, and he stabs the — now broken — pencil into his throat, just a couple inches from his artery.

Quinn chokes on his own blood, while security guards force Dakota off the smaller boy, forcing him to solitary confinement. Dakota laughs as they pull him away, while nurses do their best to keep Quinn alive.

“Stupid fucking homicidal maniac.” One guard growls as they shove Dakota into his cell, while Dakota grins the entire time, uncaring of what the others say.

A couple hours pass, and Dakota once again grows bored and weary of the bleak walls, the uncomfortable bed, and the never-ending silence.

Eventually, the door opens. He's laying on his bed, looking up at the plain white, boring ceiling. He doesn't cast a look at the intruder, and couldn't care less who they are.

“Your name's Dakota, right?” Dakota flinches at the sound of your voice. His head snaps over towards you, where you stand in the doorway, and he can see one of the guards watching carefully.

You step further into the room, accessing the room with a frown. You seem to be just as upset as Dakota with the way the room looks.

“I saw what you did to Quinn — my patient —, and I asked if I could become your therapist instead. They agreed, of course. Which is why I’m here.” Dakota’s distracted by just how sweet you sound, and the kind smile on your face despite it all.

He has a hard time wrapping his head around it. You saw him attempt to kill someone, and yet, you're being kind to him? It doesn't make sense. You don't make sense.

You sit down opposite of him on the bed, and begin asking the normal questions. Instead of lying like he normally would, he actually tells the truth. It shocks both you and him.

“What do you go by?” “He/him.”

“Why are you here currently?” “I tried to kill myself and a friend.”

“Do you feel regret for what you did?” “No.”

The questioning goes on for hours, and the two of you talk for hours, far longer then your supposed to. Therapy ended a long time ago.

No, now it's more like a chat between you two, the way you two connect is like two pieces of a puzzle.

You glance up at the clock, eyes widening when you notice the time. You apologize for having to leave so abruptly, and Dakota frowns in response.

[silly, silly you, thinking you could leave him so easily? as if.]

Dakota grabs your hand, tearing up as you glance down at him. “Ple-Please, don't leave, I—I...I’m afraid of being alone...pl-please...” He closes his eyes, swallowing thickly.

You pause, taking pity on him as you sigh, nodding as you sit down on the creaky bed once again.

He lays his head on your chest, making you tense up as you slowly put your arm around his shoulders.

“Y’know, we really shouldn't be doing this. Isn't this going against some law?” You mumble against his ear, and he shrugs.

“I—I don't know...Y-You don't have to stay.” Dakota’s voice trembles, tears sliding down his cheeks as he squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You bite your lip, glancing at the door, he was right. You could leave. But your job is to make him better, leaving him would only make it worse...right? You shake your head.

“No, it's fine, I’ll stay. But I have to leave early in the morning, kay, Dakota?” You glance down at him, your eyes meeting bright green ones. He nods, smiling against your skin.

“That’s okay! Just, don't leave yet, please?” You nod once again, and the two of you talk while you slowly nod off. Eventually you lay down, him still laying against your chest.

You fall asleep with the red haired boy laying on your chest, a sick, crooked grin on his face. He moves out of your grip, straddling your hips.

He plays with your hair as he watches you sleep, oh so peacefully, by the side of an attempted murderer. It's almost insane how you fell asleep, knowing he was by your side and you two were alone.

He leans down, his chapped and bloody lips meeting yours, it's delicate, barely even a kiss.

He giggles giddily, pulling out your phone and rolling to your side, head on your chest and phone in hand as he goes through it.

He deletes anyone in your contacts who may threaten your relationship, takes photos of you two, amongst other things.

Slowly, his eyes grow heavy, and he stuffs your phone back into your pocket, closing his eyes as he curls around you possessively.

The two of you sleep like that til someone comes in the morning, and sees you and him curled up, the thin blanket thrown on the floor by Dakota so when it got cold you'd curl around him.

Dakota’s eyes are already open by the time the nurse walks in, giving her the middle finger and that crooked grin on his face while her eyes widen, and she slowly walks out, closing the door.

You're completely unaware of the monster you're supporting, and it's going to stay that way, whether you like it or not.

#┆︴YOUR HOST ٭ NICO #yandere #x reader #oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #first post #oc

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kivaember · 7 months ago

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Do you have any headcanons about the relationship between Michigan and Iguazu?

BOY DO I!!!!

So, their relationship is actually pretty complicated, even though superficially it seems like a typical "boss trying to whip a slacker into shape". Well, they're that too, but:

Iguazu has very mixed feelings re: Michigan, because on the one hand he broke his goddamn face and then press-ganged him into Redgun service, but on the other hand, the Redguns granted him opportunities he never would've had on earth, and he's actually treated considerably better than he had been on earth too.

See, on earth, Iguazu was born into the working class, but he didn't want to live his life in the production factories or fabrication foundaries, so he was - gasp - unemployed and joined one of the many gangs that roamed the slums. Smuggling, robbery, illegal gambling, anything that could get him ahead in life, anything that could make him that little bit richer, Iguazu went for it. His lifelong dream was to get enough scratch to buy a bronze citizenship and move into one of the Rejuvenated cities, but he needed lots of money for that.

Lots and lots and lots of money.

Gambling was his favourite way of trying to get that money, because in his eyes it was a 'get rich quick and don't even get shot at' method. He did petty crime to get the fistful of cash needed to throw down a bet - and then lose it all lmao it was an endless cycle. In fact, it was how he got augmented in the first place, as he put down a huuuuuuuuge bet he just couldn't cover, and when he lost it, he realised not even selling a kidney or liver would cover the debt.

Fortunately, he managed to make a deal with some shady augmentation surgeon looking for 'test subjects' for some highly experimental """"Gen Four""""" augmentations, and he took a chance: if he survived the surgery and let the surgeon get whatever data he wanted from it, the surgeon will pay off his debt. If he didn't survive the surgery well, he'll be dead. If he couldn't pay back that debt though, he was dead anyways, so Iguazu took the chance and actually won!

So, an augmented human that doesn't have any debt nor ties to corporations is pretty valuable, even if they don't have an AC to pilot. With his new second chance, Iguazu shunned gambling for good and- HAH no. He went back to his previous life of petty crime and excessie gambling, except now he was a little cockier. Anyway, he climbed the ranks a little in the gang he was in (where he had consistently stayed, not quite at the bottom, but like, bottom third, maybe), and got tangled up in a scheme to get some seriously big cash.

tl;dr Iguazu tried to rob the Hero of Jupiter of all people.

Didn't work, obviously. His gang got busted halfway through the job and Iguazu got left behind to take the fall. Michigan basically beat him half senseless, but didn't kill him (even though he could've done it and the law would've been like "oh, unemployed working class, yeah, it wouldn't count as murder :)" since only citizens are protected (working class aren't "citizens" in apv...)). Instead, after rearranging Iguazu's face and breaking a few bones, Michigan dragged him to the hospital and paid his medical bill.

Now. Onto where the complicated feelings come in.

Life on earth was a constant struggle, and Iguazu was aware that he wasn't at the bottom of the social ladder so much as even the worms tilling the soil were considered more productive members of society than him. None of his schemes or gambling was getting him the money he wanted, and after attempting to rob the Hero of Jupiter, the Peacekeepers weren't going to arrest him, they'd just vanish him completely, which was scarier.

But that didn't happen. Instead Michigan offered him a deal: if Iguazu served ten years in the Redguns as one of his AC squad commanders, then Michigan will personally sponsor him a silver earth citizenship and give him a lump sum of COAM to start him off for his new life.... but if Iguazu turned him down, then Michigan was going to leave him to the mercy of the Peacekeepers, which was essentially a death sentence.

Obviously, Iguazu was going to take the deal, no matter how suspicious as fuck it sounded.

Really, Iguazu was half-expecting Michigan to make him his indentured slave. But instead he found that, no, he was legitimately recruited as an AC pilot. Was trained to be an AC pilot. Michigan even forced him to train in other things too - marketable skills he called them, no matter how much Iguazu grouched and complained about them being boring or pointless. Michigan pushed him to do better, didn't take any of Iguazu's shit, and if Iguazu pushed back too hard, promptly smacked him back into his place and reminded him of their deal.

It really confused Iguazu more than anything? Like, he hated Michigan on principle, and he hated how he was in control of his life and strongarmed him into a group he didn't even care about, but at the same time he felt some weird, bitter and begrudging gratitude and respect - which made him hate Michigan even more because he can't even just hate the guy without it being complicated!! Michigan was just some rich famous guy who decided to make Iguazu his charity case, and he really despised him for it.

But he was also aware that life in the Redguns was considerably better than life on earth had been to him. He'd paid a generous salary. He sleeps in a warm, clean bed (even when sent to Rubicon, their barracks had a functional cot). He got to eat every day and didn't have to worry about tomorrow. He met people he could tolerate and weren't always thinking about how to fuck him over (Volta). Iguazu really does have a lot of complicated feelings over Michigan and what he's done for him, but he settles for resentment and bitter anger because those emotions he knows best. He knows what to do with those...

Michigan, meanwhile?

Really, he was thinking about Walter when it came to Iguazu. Saw this gutsy, angry, refused to stay beaten down "sewer rat", and just couldn't help but glimpse Walter in there. Like, yeah, Walter was never that mouthy, was colder, more composed and poised, but damn, that crazy, raw stubbornness that was just shy of the fierceness of a cornered animal was all Walter.

As well, his experiences with Walter, and his own perspective on both sides of the social ladder - and how the working class are treated - had Michigan feeling some kind of way. He just decided to go for it, see what happened. Iguazu had the guts to try and rob him and, when caught, squared up to him like an absolute lunatic. Michigan liked that kind of gutsy lunacy. Combined with his sort of Walter reminders, he decided to just... offer a helping hand.

Walter sure as hell never had one of those. Walter did everything himself, horded that bitter resentment until it poisoned him right down to the bone marrow, and now he's god knows where doing who knows what. So... yeah, it's complicated on Michigan's side too.

They're both so emotionally constipated, though. Michigan sure as hell explained nothing, Iguazu stewed at what he perceived to be unwanted pity and charity, and everyone else just kinda watched this from the sidelines like hm. intersting. well anyway-

oh man i did not mean to ramble that much but. yeah!!!! yeah... my michigan and iguazu headcanons...

#armored core #armored core 6 #g1 michigan #g5 iguazu #i have so many thoughts #so many #apv has consumed my life u-u

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nahoney22 · 1 year ago

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hey, honey! congratulations on 3000! you deserve it and so much more for your incredible work. could i possibly request fox with gn!reader and the prompt “why are you really here? to mock me? to... make me hate you more?” “no. none of that. i came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now.” ? thank you, and i love you 3000 (lmao i think i'm hilarious)

3000 Prompt List Celebration

Commander Fox X GN!Reader

word count: 1.8k

SFW

Prompt:

“Why are you really here? To mock me? To make me hate you more?” • “No, none of that I came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now.”

warnings: Gender Neutral reader, platonic or romantic relationship reader can decide. Slight angst. Reader stressed with Job and Fox being a difficult man but redeems himself.

authors note: so sorry for the wait. Enjoy. Love you 3000 💕

Working for the Coruscant Guard had been a dream come true for you personally, but the reality of the job proved far more grueling than expected. The constant barrage of files and responsibilities heaped upon your shoulders was enough to exhaust even the most resilient individuals.

Though despite the demanding workload, there were silver linings.

You managed to form friendships with some of the Corrie guards during your shifts. Surprisingly to you, they managed to keep their tempers in check, resisting the urge to smack a certain Supreme Chancellor who often pushed their limits.

And during the rare moments of respite when the workload lightened, you quite enjoyed your time being stuck in an office with a bunch of rowdy clones. Which is quite funny seeing as they’re meant to be the strictest of the lot.

However, such peaceful and carefree moments were interrupted by a certain Commander. When he entered the room it felt like life was sucked out of it.

For reasons unbeknownst to you, Commander Fox seemed determined to keep a watchful eye on your every move. He persisted in requesting double-checks of your work, even when you were confident of its accuracy. It felt as though he was intentionally trying to catch you off guard and embarrass you.

Nonetheless, you refused to fall to his tactics.

Inevitably, a day arrived when the mounting pressure became too much, and Commander Fox seemed to have the upper hand. Weariness weighed heavily upon you as you mustered the energy to address him once more. "Commander, I assure you, everything has been thoroughly checked and is accurate," you stated with a hint of frustration and a suppressed yawn. The lack of sleep over the past week was taking its toll on you.

Fox's piercing gaze intensified behind his visor as he swiped his finger slowly through the files, creating an almost agonising atmosphere. A nervous knot now formed in your stomach, sensing that something was wrong with doubt beginning to gnaw at you.

"I... I believe so," you replied, attempting to sound confident, but your wavering voice betrayed your uncertainty. The room that was once filled with silent chatter fell into a now hushed silence as the clones you worked alongside subtly tuned in.

Fox's chuckle, laced with a hint of mockery, only added to your growing unease. He seemed to relish the moment as he posed the pivotal question, "Then please tell me the date you had added to all these files?"

You took a steadying breath, trying to maintain composure. "Today's date," you answered firmly, as it was the truth.

Though you couldn't see his expression hidden behind the distinctive red helmet, you had a gut feeling that he was smirking. He handed the files back to you, and for a moment, he said nothing. The silence in the room was palpable, and everyone's attention was fixated on the exchange.

Then, in a commanding voice that reverberated through the room, Fox broke the silence. "Perhaps you should now triple-check the work you submit."

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air. You fought to remain composed, but beneath the façade, your nerves were fraying. Fox walked away, hands clasped behind his back and you could sense the watchful eyes of your fellow clones.

As soon as you realised your mistake, a sinking feeling washed over you, and frustration mixed with embarrassment began to build inside. All those files, painstakingly worked on, were now marred by a glaring error of you signing the wrong date. You couldn’t help but feel defeated.

The mounting tension in the room weighed heavily on everyone present as you finally snapped, unable to hold back your emotions any longer. "Do you have a problem with me?"

Gasps and sputtering sounds of someone spitting their caf everywhere echoed throughout the room as the unexpected outburst startled your colleagues. Their eyes darted between you and Commander Fox, unsure of how the situation would unfold. Fox, though surprised by the confrontation, halted in his tracks.

He turned around to face you, and you met his gaze through his visor with a glare that could pierce beskar. The tension grew even thicker, but to your surprise, Fox's response was not the belittling or combative reaction you had anticipated.

"Do your job properly, and then we won't have a problem," he retorted sternly, maintaining his composure. His words cut deep, but they were not entirely unjustified. You knew that he had high expectations for the members of the Coruscant Guard, and your error had obviously fallen short of those standards.

His next words, however, were what stung the most. "I expect you to stay here after your shift and correct all 700 reports you did wrong." And with that, he left.

You were in for a long night.

As your weary eyes struggled to remain open, you lost count of the files and reports you corrected during the hours that stretched far beyond the end of your shift. The weight of exhaustion bore down on you, and despite your best efforts to stay awake, sleep finally overpowered you. Your head fell onto your arms, the makeshift pillow offering a moment of rest.

You had no idea how long you had dozed off but the rustling sound nearby gradually pulled you back to consciousness.

Blinking your eyes open, you were met with the sight of a pair of gloved hands adorned with red armor along the arm. A very familiar colour. It took a moment for your drowsy mind to register who was sitting beside you, but when recognition struck, it felt like someone shot a cannonball to your head.

"W-what are you doing here?" you stammered, quickly sitting up and attempting to arrange the scattered files neatly, hoping to convey that you had not just been sleeping on the job. Yet, glancing at the time on one of the control panels, you realised with a sinking feeling that you had managed to nap for at least an hour.

The figure beside you, none other than Fox himself, remained impassive behind his helmet, his expression unreadable to you. He had caught you at a vulnerable moment, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of embarrassment.

Before you could utter any further explanation or apologise for your unintentional nap, Fox finally spoke in his usual stern tone. "I came to see your progress," he said simply, giving no indication of whether he was displeased or approving of what he had observed.

You straighten your posture, trying to shake off the residual fatigue and regain your composure. "I've been working to correct the mistakes.” You attempt to inform him but he says nothing.

As you both continued working in an oddly comfortable silence, the initial shock of finding Commander Fox assisting you in correcting the files lingered in the back of your mind. He seemed entirely engrossed in the task at hand, efficiently working through the documents you had messed up, and you couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't woken you. Moreover, the sight of the multiple cups of caf nearby suggested that he had been there for quite some time.

After a few minutes passed, your curiosity got the better of you, and you mustered the courage to break the silence. "Why are you really here? To mock me? To make me… hate you more?"

Fox paused momentarily, sitting up straight and finally turning his head to look at you. The visor of his helmet was still impassive, but there was a sense of sincerity in his response that caught you off guard. "I'm here because I really enjoy filling out files," he said flatly.

Though, he actually was offering a hint of humor, it didn't seem to elicit the response he might have hoped for.

He sighed, and for a brief moment, you wished you could see his face to gauge his expression better. "No, none of that. I came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now," he admitted candidly.

The unexpected exchange between you and Commander Fox revealed a side of him that you hadn't anticipated. While you initially wanted to dismiss his offer of friendship, you couldn't deny that his actions spoke louder than his strict demeanor. He had shown a level of kindness and consideration you hadn't seen before, and it made you reassess your perceptions of him.

"I was not aware that you hated me. This kind of information should be passed on so we can move you to an environment you are more comfortable in," he mentioned, sounding genuinely surprised. You realized that perhaps you had been too quick to assume hostility in his actions without fully understanding his intentions.

"Okay, maybe hate wasn't the right word to use, Commander, but I just always feel like you're harder on me than others," you admitted, acknowledging that your feelings might have influenced your perception of him.

Fox turned to face you fully, and the swiveling chair made a soft sound as he did so. "Naturally, I have to be strict with beginners. It’s how I was treated when I first started out. However, I can now see that the workload has had an impact on your sleep," he explained, offering an understanding perspective.

You felt a bit embarrassed by your moment of vulnerability but appreciated his attempt at openness. "I'm so sorry for falling asleep," you apologised, still feeling a sense of responsibility for your earlier mistake.

He waved away your apology, putting you at ease. "No need. I would have woken you if someone of high importance was to enter. Also, don't think I haven't nodded off once or twice while working," he admitted with a hint of humor, surprising you with his forthrightness.

Your smile grew, and you felt an actual change between you both. "Really? Ever got caught?" you inquired.

"Of course not," he chuckled, his amusement infectious. He then tapped his helmet lightly, explaining, "That's why I wear this. It scares some of the shinies when they show up here, though. They just think I'm glaring at them nonstop when I'm actually catching up on some lost sleep."

You chuckled at the image, realising that even the seemingly unyielding Commander Fox had his moments of vulnerability. "You don't sleep much?" you asked, looking back at the multiple cups of caf by his side.

"Can't you tell?"

The two of you continued with this surprisingly good small talk and it comes to no surprise to you that some of his brothers had offloaded their work unbeknownst to you onto you.

You could definitely feel the tension between you both fade as you continued in through the night and you couldn’t help but feel like a bond was formed when he gently pushed a cup of caf in your direction.

Masterlist

Prompt Works

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @blustalker @by-the-primes @the-bad-batch-baroness

#commander fox x you #commander fox x reader #Corrie guard #nahoney22 writes #fox x you #fox x reader

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mariaofdoranelle · 1 year ago

Text

Look at Us Now - ch. 12

I’m dedicating this chapter to @taylorswift because today is Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) day. In the album’s honor, Rowan’s getting Aelin with those green eyes baby as the lights go down and giving something that’ll haunt her when he’s not around lmao

Warnings: language, NSFW

Words: 4,2K

Aelin was very close to murdering the next person who dared say she was glowing.

She didn’t feel like glowing when she was suspended from the OR until she got back from maternity leave—and no, Rowan had no idea the reason that happened was because she almost passed out mid-surgery.

She didn’t feel like glowing now that she had fatigue and back pain most of the time.

She didn’t feel like glowing now that she had a monthiversary to attend and a belly too big to wear something cute. Aelin frowned at the maternity towel she was wearing. Even those had to be in a whole new size for her.

Groaning, she sat on the bed. She’d meet the Whitethorns once again at the monthly birthday party Sellene threw to her daughter, and the only thing Aelin wanted was to look nice. It was so easy a few months ago, but a nightmare now that none of her cute clothes would fit, and even her Crocs felt like rubber socks because of her swollen feet. Crocs. Her discomfort while pregnant was so big she surrendered to the ugliest shoes imaginable.

Aelin’s preferred thing to wear at home was the biggest dress she could find. Period. Pants became a nuisance when she was peeing more often than not. At least she was in her own house now—the fourth one Aelin lived in since finding out about the pregnancy—and could be grouchy all she wanted.

She stared at her open closet, but wasn’t really looking at it. Just letting the hollowness in her chest take over.

Three knocks on her bedroom door. “Are you ready?”

Aelin groaned. “I don’t wanna go.”

“Oh, thank God.” Rowan’s shoulders dropped, and he immediately texted his cousin while rambled, “I get celebrating milestones, but who in their right mind would invite every Whitethorn in this city to their house every month? Who’s benefiting from those parties?“

Aelin snorted. “Not you.”

“Definitely not me.” He pocketed his phone and sat on the bed by her side. “Alright, now why don’t you want to go?”

She crossed her arms over her belly. “My nice clothes are too small.”

“What?” Rowan asked as if that observation was absurd. “What about the White Hawks jersey you stole from me? I bet that’s the nicest thing you own, pregnancy-sized or not.”

”Not funny.” She only borrowed that out of necessity. Aelin gave him a long look, then looked down at her bump. “I look like I have a watermelon strapped to myself.”

“What about it?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you being serious right now?”

She wasn’t upset just because of the belly. It just added up to the stretch marks, the limited options of clothes, the constant pain, the insomnia—

“What? I—“ Rowan leaned closer to her, looking lost. “What do you want me to say, Aelin? Of course you’re bigger. You’re carrying my baby. That doesn’t make you any less beautiful than you were before.” He caressed her shoulder, eyes roaming through her body as they got a little darker. “In fact…”

“What?” She asked, quickly enthralled by his eyes and hand on her.

Rowan leaned his forehead against her with his eyes closed and whispered, “Do you need me to show you how attractive you still are?”

Aelin licked her lips, trying to think of something to say as the pleasant tingling in her body took over and clouded her thoughts.

He cupped her cheek. “Say yes.”

“Please.”

He took her mouth, kissing her in a gentle and urgent manner at the same time. With her arms wrapped around him, Aelin opened up for him and swirled her tongue around his, making him groan.

She tugged at his clothes. Rowan broke the kiss and complied, but not without taking her towel off as well. He took her in, languid eyes assessing her body and making her shiver with his hungry gaze.

Rowan laid next to her and leaned in for another long kiss, and Aelin’s heart was as strong as her knees got weak. He trailed gentle kisses down her breasts, the dark line on her stomach, the stretch marks on her hips.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against her bump, caressing it with his eyes closed.

Aelin’s heart skipped a beat. There were three words she felt a lot like screaming, but her tongue seemed tangled in knots when she opened her mouth.

The hand on her bump slid to her folds, making her breath hitch. Rowan kissed his way down until his mouth reached her clit, and—

She groaned. Not a good groan.

His head popped over her belly. “What?”

“I can’t see you down there.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “And you don’t like it.”

”Well, I do like it.” Aelin sat on the bed and tried to look as reassuring as she could. “But I want you, not some ghost pussy-eater—“

“A what?” He asked with widened eyes, his face somewhere between confusion and amusement.

Aelin’s mouth opened and closed as she thought about what came out of her mouth a second ago. “Shut up.”

Rowan chuckled and laid down beside her on the bed, spooning her close as his hand sneaked down her front. “Is this better?”

“Perfect.” Aelin’s breath hitched when he touched her again, her body filled with warmth. “You can also fuck me like this, you know?”

“What if…” he trailed, putting the engines inside his brain to work. “I didn’t?”

Aelin’s face faltered. “What.”

He looked pained beside her. “I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

“Ro…” Aelin turned around to face him and clamped her lips together, trying to take him seriously. “After all the pregnancy books you read, I can’t believe you’re worried about this.”

“I know how you like things. It’s not cervix-friendly.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “And I don’t want the baby to be born with a sunken forehead.”

She couldn’t do it anymore. Aelin took off the invisible seal on her mouth and let out a loud cackle, laughing into his shoulder. From the way it was shaking too, he didn’t seem too upset.

Looking up, she stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Do you know what you’re being right now?”

The smile he wore lit her up from inside out. “A big Buzzard?”

“The biggest of all Buzzards,” she muttered into his lips.

Rowan didn’t reply, he just held her face and kissed her again. It started sweet, with his lips brushing against hers while he caressed her everywhere he could, but he couldn’t control the level of heat after her tongue was in. Aelin brushed her hands over his abs while giving long, fervent kisses.

She whimpered when he got to her neck. “I miss your weight on me.”

Rowan moved them so he was spooning her now. Her belly was too big for him to be comfortably over her, so this was their best option now.

“Is this okay?” He asked against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“Perfect,” she breathed when his hand met her folds, stroking before he pressed against her clit. She moaned, intoxicated by his heat spreading under her skin.

Rowan plunged one finger in and then another, making her grind against his fingers. His voice sounded nearly broken when he said, “You’re so wet, I could—“

“Do it.”

He adjusted Aelin’s legs in one swift motion and thrust inside her in another, making her a whimpering mess while he worked her open from behind. Rowan trailed kisses on the side of her neck and teased her breast as he set a rhythm. Aelin was squirming, feeling like she was bursting and drowning with pleasure at the same time.

Rowan fucked her in a languid pace, purring sweet nothings about how pretty she looked and how well she was taking his cock. Aelin's nerves were on fire, and she completely lost sense of composure when his hand went back to her clit.

He wasn’t slapping her ass while sinking so deep she struggled to stay upright, but Aelin liked soft Rowan. She liked this very much.

Her walls clenched around his cock, making his thrusts get erratic and harder than he was previously doing, and that’s what made her go over the edge. Aelin cried out his name, pulsing while shockwaves gripped her body. The noises he was making became strangled, before Rowan thrust one last time and came undone behind her.

He trailed a few kisses from her neck to her shoulder and sank into the mattress, still hugging her close. However, Aelin took two deep breaths and got up as fast as she could.

“Where are you going?” He asked, frowning.

“Squashed bladder!” She called over her shoulder while waddling her way to her suite’s bathroom.

Aelin sat on the toilet, feeling the relief that was just partially because of her bladder getting empty. She closed her eyes. Her heart was leaping, somersaulting inside her fluttering chest. This was good, one step closer to where she wanted to get. Things got too domestic, too cozy for it to be with her platonic co-parent she had non-platonic feelings for. She couldn’t take the friendship arrangement much longer.

Aelin‘s heart stopped when she saw blood on her toitet paper, but relaxed again when she noticed it was very faint and browinsh. Just a little spotting. She’d keep an eye on it, but it was a common thing during pregnancy. Especially after having sex. She smiled at the thought, still a little giddy.

Back on the bed, she didn’t bother getting dressed again before sinking into Rowan’s embrace.

“Everything okay?” He asked while stroking her hair.

She snuggled into him. “Sure thing.”

“I didn’t hurt you? The baby feels alright? Because I read pregnancy sex can hurt—“

“I’m great, Buzzard.” Aelin snorted. “Just a little spotting, but it’s fine.”

Rowan jumped into a sitting position. “You’re bleeding?”

“What? No!”

“I know what spotting is. It’s blood.”

“Rowan, calm down.” She tugged on his arm until he was laid down with her again, but it did nothing to loosen those tight shoulders of his. “It’s a normal thing, but I’ll keep an eye on it, okay? If it continues or if anything else happens, I’ll let you know.”

His eyes looked anguished when he asked, “You promise?”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course.”

“Because you don’t tell me things sometimes. I hate it.”

“Buzzard,” she teased.

They stayed there for a moment, studying each other. She rubbed his frown with her thumb, making him give her a faint smile.

“Aelin, I—“ he sighed into her hair. “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

She blinked, slowly processing how her heart sank with his words. Did ‘anymore’ mean ‘while you’re pregnant’ or ‘ever again’?

“Is it because of the spotting?”

He hugged her tighter. “I don’t wanna take risks with the baby.”

“Of course,” was her only reply. She was a little numb, and didn’t know what to think.

If Rowan meant they shouldn’t take risks by starting a relationship and reinforced the reason they decided to stay friends, she was screwed.

If Rowan meant they wouldn’t be having sex while she was pregnant, Aelin would need to wait at least a month after birth to seduce him into being with her.

At least the orgasm made her drowsy enough to sleep.

˜˜

Aelin Galathynius was a woman of many vices.

Her biggest one? Chocolate.

Today, it started when she craved a little dessert after lunch, just to find out her fridge was empty of sweets. And her stash of chocolate. Also the secret stash in her closet as well. If the drawer Maisie hid the sweets she stole was empty too, Aelin would be lost.

Her chest got a little tighter when she reached Maisie’s room. The little girl was staying at her dad’s this weekend, and Aelin missed her sweet tooth buddy and occasional chocolate thief.

When Rowan texted last Friday night to let her know there was some unexplained chocolate in Maisie’s backpack, Aelin didn’t think her daughter would take all the sweets and leave her high and dry. But from the lack of illicit food in Maisie’s usual hiding places, it sounded like Aelin didn’t know her daughter at all.

That’s okay, she could be mature about this. She could get her car keys and go to the convenience store for more variety, or walk one block to the playground and hope she’d find something nice at the vending machine. But what she could no longer do is deny herself a woman’s greatest desire.

After putting sunscreen and her sandals on, Aelin faced the short walk to the park. That unforgiving sun burned her shoulders the entire time, and it was a relief when she noticed the trees were shading some of the benches.

There was a shift in Aelin’s mood the moment she got to the vending machine. Reese’s! The selection was good today—

Aelin jerked when she felt something poking her leg, but relaxed again when she saw it was just Maisie. Frowning.

“Hey, Mais. I didn’t see you there.”

Aelin didn’t get her usual warm greeting, though. The little girl had her Whitethorn frown on. “You didn’t say ‘hi’ when you got here.”

“Honey, I didn’t know you were here. I’m so sorry.”

Aelin’s heart twisted with guilt, but she peppered Maisie’s face with kisses until that little pout gave space to a giggle.

“I’m playing basketball with Daddy and the other big people.”

They weren’t in the playground, then. That explained why Aelin didn’t see her. She crouched down and playfully squinted her eyes at her little girl. “Well, I am here because my chocolate went missing.”

“Intwesting.” Maisie narrowed her eyes at her mother. “Because you told me there was none.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes back. It was a battle of wills now, and neither of them would give in. Forcing Maisie to admit she took Aelin’s chocolate from the secret stash would mean admitting there was a secret stash to begin with. Not an option right now.

Aelin’s shoulders dropped in resignation. She refused to fight with her five-year-old daughter over chocolate. “Anyway, I’m buying more. Want some?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up like a Yulemas tree. “Yes!”

She chuckled and let Mais pick some. Aelin hid some of her sweets just to control the kid’s sugar intake and Rowan’s complaints about it, but it’d be cruel to buy some for herself in front of her daughter and not share.

It was nice, having some mother-daughter bonding time over chocolate and gummy bears. The shaded bench they found almost made Aelin forget how hot today was.

“I’m gonna miss this candy so much.” Maisie had her eyes blissfully closed and let out a sigh of delight. “We need to go back to the candy machine.”

Yep, this kid was Aelin’s. No mistakes there.

She playfully pinched Maisie’s side, making her squeal. “What would your father think of that?”

“Nothing, because he’s not here.”

“That’s…“ genius. So accurate. Aelin’s mouth hung open for a beat. Who raised this smarty-pants? She shook the idea off her head. “nope. We can’t do that. Let’s go find your dad.”

Maisie took the remaining chocolate, but then extended her hand back to Aelin. “Do your girl pants have pockets today?”

She gave a saucy wink, making the little girl giggle. “Sure thing, hun.”

They found Rowan at the small field, playing basketball with Lorcan and a few other neighbors they weren’t exactly friends with, but were often around here on weekends too.

Rowan was playing shirtless. His ripped back flexed as he picked up Charlie so the boy could reach the hoop and score a point. Something about him shirtless and teaching little kids how to play basketball gave her a flutter in the chest, and a wildfire in lower places than she was willing to admit.

His sweaty, bronze skin was gleaming under the Doranellian sun, and the way it highlighted his six pack and pecs was absolutely maddening. Aelin’s heartbeat stopped and came back at full speed. Rowan was running, working those burly thighs and showing some side muscles she learned about in med school, but could swear were myths. Looking at him like that, Aelin felt on fire, off-balance, out of breath.

˜˜

“And what did you do?” Yrene asked.

“I didn’t stay to play, if that’s what you’re asking. You know damn well I wouldn’t be looking at the ball.”

Her therapist tried and failed to hide a chuckle. “I just don’t understand why you’re upset over this.”

“Yrene, that game was obscene. You should’ve seen the other moms ogling him.”

“Taking his shirt off was understandable, given the weather.”

Aelin decided to mimic him with one hand. “Oh, it’s me, Rowan! Look at my shiny abs as I play basketball with little kids!” She looked at his hand as if it offended her, but continued. “I just love to tease everyone in this family-oriented park!”

Yrene leaned back on her chair, head tilted. “Is that how you see his point of view?”

“Alright.” Aelin crossed her arms, looking away. “Maybe I felt personally attacked by Rowan’s abs.”

“And why’s that?”

“Do you really want me to get graphic here? Voice every thought I had?”

She snorted. “That’s up to you. I’m literally your therapist.”

Aelin squinted her eyes at her therapist. “This is all your fault.”

Knowing all of Aelin’s mechanisms or whatever shrinks call it, Yrene leaned closer to Aelin, eyes glinting with hidden amusement and hands under her chin. “How so?”

“I’ve got my therapy, family therapy, all this quality time, now Dr. Blackbeak’s finally lowering my dose of the antidepressants. Things are so much better and…” Aelin looked away and swallowed. Things were better, and the only thing getting worse was the huge lump in the throat she got as a side effect. “all of this got me thinking about how things would’ve looked like if I hadn’t left.”

”You always tell me you two were never in a relationship.”

That fact was just another reason she felt like her heart was being squeezed lately. “It’s complicated.”

”No matter what label you used, you need to remind yourself that—“

“I did my best in the situation I was given, I know,” Aelin repeated that motto in a tight tone and ran a hand through her hair. “I knew there was no coming back when I did that.”

Yrene tilted her head. ”Are you speaking for yourself? Because you can’t decide that on Rowan’s behalf.”

Aelin squinted her eyes at her therapist. “You’re onto something.”

“I’m not onto anything.” She chuckled. A schemer’s chuckle. Or just a chuckle from someone who Aelin mindlessly blamed when she was called out. Yrene continued, “You told me an obstacle, and I’m questioning if it’s real.” She checked the time on her computer screen. “And our time’s up. Same time next week?”

Aelin said her goodbyes and got up. The session’s time was up, but she knew that whatever she chose to do about these old feelings, she first had to figure out how he felt about it all.

She just needed to start with the harder part. Wonderful.

Rowan, who decided to be her therapy escort when he found out her sessions happened on his free afternoons, was sat in the waiting room, reading a book and wearing… glasses?

“What are those?” Aelin blurted.

She had asked him to go to the eye doctor a couple of months ago, but assumed he had forgotten about his promise.

Rowan jerked on the chair. “What?”

“On your face.”

“Glasses?” He took them off and studied the thing too. “I got them a while ago. Turns out they’re great for reading.”

“Huh,” was all Aelin could muster. She blinked and thanked Mala when he closed the book and didn’t put them back. Yrene had another patient now, Aelin couldn’t go back and open another Pandora box about how good he looked with rounded glasses.

“Hey.” Rowan got up and took her wrist, stroking it in circling motions with his thumb. “Did it go well?”

“Perfect.”

Aelin smiled as if she hadn’t paid good money to vent about how slutty he looked last weekend.

˜˜

It was near impossible to shut her mind off during the short drive to Maisie’s school. The hardest part is that they were going to the theater with Sellene’s daughter after. It was a play meant for children, but Aelin really wanted to be able to pay attention to The Little Mermaid tonight. A classic is a classic.

Aelin got out of the car in the packed parking lot, feeling the wind tug at her clothes. It’d take them longer than usual to leave today, considering they were taking Breanna without Sellene there. She could always trust Rowan to pick the school with the toughest security measures.

They walked side by side, children and their parents‘ chattering as their background noise. Rowan looked good with loosened shoulders and no frown in sight. He wasn’t wearing a smile—a view reserved almost exclusively for his family—but she knew his lips would tug up the second he saw Maisie.

It’d be so weird to show up six years after they last hooked up asking how he felt about her. Especially when they’d still talk to each other the other day. She needed to listen to the signs before acting, but it was so hard sometimes.

Rowan was a practical person. He could’ve decided to accompany her to therapy because it was close to Maisie’s school and they’d both need to go there after. His decision could be motivated by an undying love for the mother of his child, or something as romantic as reducing carbon monoxide emissions. And Rowan did care about carbon monoxide. He said so the night they met.

Even if he really cared about her, she was the other half of his little broken family. Wishing her well was no indication of romantic feelings.

Aelin shoved her thoughts aside when she saw Maisie and Bree coming her way, and crouched for the crushing hug that was coming. Those small bodies combined almost knocked her down on the floor, but Aelin wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mommy!” Maisie yelled, “Did you know Bree’s never been to the Peter?”

“The theater, Mais,” Rowan corrected around a chuckle.

Aelin caressed the girl’s pale blonde hair. “Is that right, Bree?”

She gave a shy nod, making her smile. Holy rutting Mala, those strong Whitethorn genes. When they were side-by-side and wearing the same uniform like this, Sellene’s daughter looked like Maisie’s shy twin.

“You’re gonna love the Peter, Bree!” Her daughter yelled and flailed her arms around, filled with excitement. “The screen has a huge hole where the people go.”

“Calm down, you two.” Rowan playfully tugged at Maisie’s pigtails. “The play is just next week.”

“No, it’s not.” Aelin turned to Rowan and tilted her head. “I checked the tickets this morning. It’s definitely today.”

“Aelin, she can’t go.” He lowered his voice. “Her flu shot, remember?”

“Are you talking about the flu shot she got last week?”

“This one exactly.” He crossed his arms, giving her a hard look. “It has a two-week immunity window—“

Aelin mirrored his expression, feeling her muscles tighten. “I’m a doctor, I’m aware—“

“And I’m not putting Maisie in a theater with hundreds of kids without being sure that—“

“I want to see Ariel!” The little girl’s wail interrupted them. Her face was reddened already and filled with tears, and Breanna was on her side, whispering anything a five-year-old deemed soothing.

“We are.” She gave Rowan a hard look and crouched next to Maisie, caressing the little girl’s head. ”That’s just your father being your father. He’s been careful like that with you since you were inside my belly, did you know that?”

Maisie shook her head and sniffed. Well, that was on Aelin. She didn’t talk much about the time she was pregnant, but she’d do anything to make her little girl smile.

“Do you know what I’d call him back then?” A pause to spark Maisie’s interest. “A Buzzard.”

“Like the bird?”

“You’re right.“ With her index finger, Aelin mimicked the animal with sweeping movements around Maisie’s head. “That bird that keeps flying close by, watching you all the time.”

Aelin watched her daughter expectantly, waiting until her brain made the right connections. Maisie perked up a beat later, her pine-green eyes slowly widening.

“That’s Daddy!” She turned to her father, pointed a finger at him and shouted, “Buzzard!”

Aelin was chuckling at Maisie’s newfound source of excitement, trying to bury the weight in her chest, when she saw Rowan’s face. He didn’t say a word, just let Maisie repeat the nickname over and over around him as he vacantly stared at Aelin. Her face faltered. He swallowed, and his gaze on her was so intense she looked away.

That was so tone-deaf of her, and Rowan clearly didn’t like it. Just because Aelin was reminiscing these days, didn’t mean he wanted that too.

“Come on, Bree.” Aelin tugged on the girl’s hand. “Let’s see how long it takes before your teacher lets you leave without your mom here.”

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dol--blathanna · 1 year ago

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I try not to post too much TWN negativity on this blog, because I know plenty of people enjoy the show just fine, and I hate being an asshole and raining on other people’s parades. But, god, the way that the show treats Yennefer - or rather, mistreats her - just upsets me and pisses me off so much.

The book already puts her through the wringer - too much at times, honestly - but the show just takes it to a whole new level. The amount of suffering they put her through that wasn’t present in the books is so frustrating to me. Like adding in random torture scenes that weren’t present (the hysterectomy scene, being tortured by Stregebor), losing her magic powers, constantly being captured in S2, not even having a particularly good court standing - like in S1 when Fringilla mocks her for not helping advance Aedirn at all, and Yennefer doesn’t even have a good comeback to that. It’s as if the show is just obsessed with giving her constant Ls and never really letting her come out on top. Sidenote: I am fine with angst, in fact I enjoy it, and I am fine with a character going through hardships and suffering. You can do a lot of great character, story and theme exploration with angst, and sometimes it’s necessary for a character to suffer to develop that. If I wasn’t fine with angst, I wouldn’t be a fan of the witcher lmao. But when I see a character who already goes through a shit ton of misery in the books get forced into even more suffering in the show that never happened....I start to have a problem.

And then, of course, S2 committed the cardinal sin with that stupid ass Voleth Meir plotline. As if torturing her, having her be captured, making her lose her powers, wasn’t bad enough - they completely character assassinate her by making her almost sacrifice Ciri to a fucking demon. Something that is so bewilderingly OOC for Yennefer, something that never EVER happened in the books. When the show got bored with creating narrative suffering for her, they decided to take it to a meta level by character assassinating her in a really bizarre, stupid way. Because, why was this necessary? I know that they were concerned about the fact Yennefer doesn’t really show up much in Blood of Elves, I understand they wanted to create a plot line for her that got her more involved in the main plot. But - why this???!!! There were 101 different plot lines they could have given her that didn’t involve her trying to sacrifice Ciri to a fucking demon, in the process completely messing up her relationship with Geralt and Ciri!!

And this is the main reason I’m making this post - her relationship with Geralt and Ciri being messed up. I’ve seen a lot of articles recently about S3, all stating that Yennefer essentially has to grovel to Geralt, that he ignores her for potentially a full year, that at the beginning he doesn’t even let her enter the same abode as them - what the fuck!!! It upsets me so much. Because this was the biggest problem with the VM plotline - it completely upends Geralt and Yennefer’s dynamic. In the books, their relationship is way more equal - in fact, it honestly would be accurate to say that Yennefer is the more dominant one in the relationship, not Geralt. The show is now completely turning that on its head, and making Geralt the dominant one - but not personality wise, more in a moral highground type way. Because now, whatever stupid shit Geralt does, or has done in the past - e.g. tell Yennefer she’d be a terrible mother, which he never apologises for - none of that matters!! Because it will never be as bad as Yennefer trying to kill Ciri. Instead of a relationship where they both fuck up and both make mistakes, like in the books, in the show the emphasis will all be on Yennefer. Yennefer is the one fucking up, Yennefer is the one making absurdly stupid mistakes, Yennefer is the one who needs to apologise and grovel and beg for forgiveness.

And this is what I mean by, the show is obsessed with giving her Ls. Not only do they make her suffer, they character assassinate her by forcing her character to do this cartoonishly evil thing, and then punish her for it!! They don’t just take away her powers, her court standing, they even strip her of her own relationships!!! And I ask again - why is this necessary?? Who decided that punishing her like this would be an extremely important plot line, an improvement, over the original source material? Like back when the show was first announced, I sure as shit wasn’t thinking “oh wow a netflix witcher show - I sure do hope they have a plot thread where Geralt refuses to talk to Yennefer, and doesn’t even let her into the same fucking house as him, because she tried to kill Ciri!!” who wanted this??? Who thought this was a good idea??? Honestly, it makes me feel as if someone on the writing team hates Yennefer and wants her to suffer, both in a narrative and meta level. And no, I’m not talking about that infamous Beau deMayo interview - something that caused a huge amount of online drama and should be taken with a big old pinch of salt, especially since the writer who made this claim was responsible for some pretty questionable decisions, namely the whole Treeskel thing. I’m not making a direct accusation here - it’s more a feeling. When I look at TWN, I cannot help but sense a level of contempt and spite towards the character of Yennefer. That doesn’t necessarily mean someone in the writing team genuinely has it out for her, but if that’s the impression that I get from the way they treat her in the show, then something has gone very wrong with the narrative decisions they made for her.

And this is why, not only can I not let myself be excited for S3, it’s why I’m genuinely feeling dread about it. Every time I read interviews about how Geralt and Yennefer have this really rocky start and he’s ignoring her or whatever, my stomach just sinks. And again - why was this decision made? Who thought this was a good idea? And yeah, the TWN team have already said they’re trying to fix the problem with their relationship caused in S2, but a) the way they are going about fixing it only serves to punish Yennefer’s character more and b) it should not have been something to fix in the first place. It’s also why I can’t bring myself to believe that S3 will suddenly be more faithful and better than S2, esp in regards to Yennefer (aside from the fact they’ve made this promise before and failed to deliver). Because the early plot points of a story are extremely important in setting the foundation of your later plot, especially in a series like the witcher. If your foundation is inherently flawed, it doesn’t matter how good your later seasons are; they are built on a faulty base, and will therefore lack a good structure. Case in point with Yennefer. Without going too much into book spoilers, let’s just say she has a really rough time of it post-Time of Contempt in the books. So in the show, either a) they will just put her through even more suffering and leave you thinking “wow did this entire show exist just to punish Yennefer?” or b) they will have to deviate away from the books. Neither of these options are particularly good. (this also is one of my problems with S2 as a whole - they were so desperate to put in all this insane blockbuster action and dramatic plot points, but sometimes in stories you need moments of calm to make later dramatic plot points more hard hitting. In the books, Blood of Elves was the moment of calm before Time of Contempt’s batshit, action packed drama. In the show, you never get that moment of calm. Why should I care about whatever happens in Thanedd if S2 had Ciri get possessed by a fucking demon and go on a killing spree? But anyway.)

And I think the reason why I’m particularly disappointed with the way that the show has treated Yennefer’s character so badly (aside from the numerous promises of “we’re a faithful book adaptation” being complete lies) is that Yennefer is a character who already receives a lot of unfair hate. Obviously there’s the annoying “Team Yen vs Team Triss” thing from the games, but even within the show there were a certain type of fans of a certain ship who hated a lot on Yennefer for daring to get in the way of their ship. Like, I’m so sick of seeing Yennefer getting hate for stupid, unfair reasons - and now even the show is treating her like shit??? Like, give me a break!!

I’m just tired of it. And obviously, if you like TWN and you’re excited for S3, that’s fine. In fact, I’m honestly jealous, I wish I could feel the same. And who knows, maybe the show will improve its treatment of Yennefer, maybe they’ll finally give her some Ws. But that’s what I thought about S2, and was proven VERY wrong. Any confidence, trust or optimism I had left for the show was completely destroyed by the Voleth Meir plotline in S2, and the show will have to work very hard to rebuild that trust for me. And unfortunately, everything I’ve heard about S3 so far is only confirming that they’ll continue to treat her poorly.

#sorry I just had to rant about my feelings after seeing all the interviews about S3 recently #it's just so disappointing #and I don't like being negative about TWN on this blog too much bc I don't like pissing on other people's enjoyment of things #but man. i'm just so sick of how this show treats Yennefer in such a weirdly mean-spirited way #anti twn #anti witcher netflix #twn critique #twn critical #twn negativity #long post #text

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