algodondeazucarsaborrosa

[siixkiing]

chews on macaque's ears. out of love

"What do you want, Great Pain in the Ass?"

A exasperated sigh leaves the shadow's lips, not seeming all that phased at the sudden display. Though his tail does curl at the end as his fur fluffs up in the moment — his ears were sensitive to more than just sounds after all. Taking every ounce of will power and strength in him not to make a peep of sound at how nice it felt or shiver in delight. Oh no, he would not live it down if he did.

He will never understand the king's need to ALWAYS go for his signature ears. It was utterly baffling why he ever paid them this much attention in the first place.

" —or did you just want my attention?"

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been running this writing experiment lately to cut out phrases like "I felt" in my fiction writing. Like I was looking at a sentence in a draft that said, "he felt as if character's eyes were pinning him in place." And then I was like, "well, does he think that or is it true? As a result of this person watching him, he's froze. It's not like a thing, it is that thing."

Oh and "almost"! I'm always going, "He felt almost relieved that it hadn't happened." Well, did he feel better that it didn't happen or didn't he? Or "somewhat", I'm always going, "she felt somewhat perturbed."

And like none of that is wrong, to be clear. I don't know if it'd improve your writing, I don't even know if it'll improve my writing, but I use this sentence structure all the time so every viewpoint is from a voice that thinks about what it thinks, hedges its statements, and offers the same ability for wry little jokes formatted in the exact same way. And I have a lot of writing like that and I think (!) that they're good, but read as a whole, I'm like, "god, they all sound the same." Like there's one melody that I write songs to, so even with different lyrics, it's almost (!) the same song. Something I've been struggling with in regards to my writing and why I've felt so blocked is how boring I found writing my usual way. I'd read something and enjoy the individual parts of it, but then I'd step back and I didn't like the whole. And I got good at this enough at seeing that I didn't like it to do it in real time as I was writing, which as you can imagine didn't improve the process of writing because now I was bored AND dejected about being bored.

There's this sentence-level structure fact that I use unconsciously. A pattern I find easy is short sentence, short sentence, short sentence, long sentence. So I write that. "He [verbed]. He [verbed]. Then he [verbed]. As he [verbed] to his [consequence], he [verbed] that [noun] was [statement of condition]." Which could work, it often does make for a nice rhythm, but it's something I reach for often because it's easier for me.

Just last sentence, I originally typed, "I find it easier for me." But if what I mean is "using this pattern is less effort than another pattern," then it's easier for me. One voice is hedging its bets and the other asserting. Either is fine! But they're different! And, again, GOD you would not believe how many words I've cut out of this paragraph as I write it. I'm so chatty. I love using twelve words when six will do. And that gives my writing a specific tone to my ear.

So if I am bored of that tone, why not try using just the six words? Why be understated? Why be afraid of stronger opinions? So right now with my fiction, I'm experimenting with cutting out as many self-reflective words as I can. Sometime you do need to draw attention to the face that this is the character's interpretation, but like you definitely don't need to do it as much as I naturally want to do it. You don't need to always go out of your way to allow the possibility that the narrative voice is wrong. During editing, I trim the weaker ones (I originally typed, "what I consider the weaker ones" Is that more accurate?). But I think them being there in the first place shifts my language which shifts my character's which shifts my plot. It's sentence structure all the way down!!

(this barely applies to my writing on here, btw. i try to do good but yknow this is a tumblr blog. i'm not trying to get a lit mag to accept it.)

Anyway blah blah (chatty!) the point is I've been trying to write in a way opposite of my interests. Something that doesn't take itself too seriously, that emphasizes EMOTION and ACTION instead of minimizing it, and that clips through scenes at a good pace. Doing this been amazingly fun. I've been having such a good time doing it. I am writing so much because I really enjoy doing it. The process of writing is so fun again.

This post is about two things. One is my new mood stabilizer and therapy day camp. The other is about the benefit of pretending to be MXTX.

[goldsbitch]

Open your eyes

Everyone is self-conscious about their body sometimes. For Y/N's it's always been her small boobs, living in the belief that this would make her unattractive. Can her best friend help out?

warning: light smut, nipple play, blindfold

this one is for the flat chested girlies out there

If only teenagers knew how all of their peers are just as insecure as they are. Might have saved a lot of trouble, sleepless nights and maybe even stop everyone from overthinking and living more of a "just finally kiss me" life.

//

It was a sunny summer afternoon, as per usual, these two late teens, would spend it in a room with all windows covered up, eyes glued to the screen and hands gripping gaming consoles. They grew up as close friends, in fact he was the only one she ever potentially felt comfortable enough to admit her insecurities.

"Still don't get it why you said no," he noted, once again, to the situation where one of his racing friends asked for her number and she declined without providing a reason.

She ignored him the first time he'd address it, hoping he'd just let it go. It was frustrating how much invested he was in that. With a big sigh, she replied the same as she did before. "We are just not the right fit."

Lando, a teenage guy with a massive crush he had yet to decipher, was not satisfied with that answer.

"Don't get it," he said nonchalantly as he blew her head off in the game they were playing.

"Fine!" she responded and nearly threw away her console. She locked eyes with him, still not sure if she wanted to share her deepest insecurity.

He knew her, in the light reflected from her screen he could see on her face that the mood in the room has changed drastically. No more casual fun and games.

"Spill it," he dared, perhaps realizing for the first time why he craved her presence so much. "Was this it?"

She took a deep breath, trying to somehow ignore Lando's intense stare. She would always closed her eyes when something "scary" was in front of her. With her eyes shut, she finally spoke. "It's, um...You know," she said, vaguely pointing around her chest. Poor Lando was so caught of guard he forgot to breathe for a moment. "What?" he said, confused as ever.

Another annoyed sigh. "Don't make me say it, Norris."

"Well, you're really bad at pantomima thing, so I'm afraid you'll have to," he said, keen on not letting this go, his mind trying to ignore his inner disappointment.

"Fine. But promise we will never address this again."

"Promise."

"He just, he seems like the kind of guy who would want a more developed girl..?" she said, still not sure how to communicate it.

"As in all the braincells? I see your point now," he couldn't help himself from teasing her. Ever.

"Dickhead. My boobs," he almost bursted, once again gesturing to her chest. "They are so small. Why would someone like him find that attractive?"

Now, he was truly taken of guard, no idea how to respond, because he could hardly understand. It made the wheels in his head spin. Only at that moment realizing he'd do anything to see her small boobs one day. Y/N mistook his surprised silence as a confirmation of her own insecurities.

//

Once his brain processed the newly found information, Lando understood, as best as he could, where Y/N's insecurity regarding her boobs came from. While he'd never admit it, he often wondered whether he himself was "developed" enough. He had always been smaller than guys his age, something that is hard to hide. Same with breasts, unless you really wanna fake it, you can just tell from the outside.

Ever since that summer afternoon, he started to notice things he did not before. How could he not hear the subtle comments she made so often?

He was hanging out in her room, the last evening before he parted to several races. They were suppose to meet some friends later, so he stopped by, expecting her to be ready, while she was busy trying on a seventh top and still not liking it.

"This one has just too low of a v-neck," she whispered, perhaps more to herself, but ultimately, he did hear her. It's been weeks since the first and last time they spoke about it, Lando managed to pass many comments she made about herself.

But, fuck it this time. It was bothering him endlessly that she was insecure like that.

"That's it, Y/N. You know that the size of the boobs does not matter, right? Guys don't care about that," he stood behind her, locking eyes with her through the mirror she was standing in front of.

She froze, staying silent.

He continued. "Tell me, did a guy ever complain when you slept together?" They would usually share stories of their "achievements" in the past, so he was aware that she was sexually active. It was just that recently, that thought became sort of uncomfortable. Other guys touching her.

She snapped back. "Well, they never complained, but the also never even looked at them, so how could they know!"

"What does that mean?" he asked, once again confused.

She wished her mouth would wait for her brain to approve sometimes. Especially with Lando. There goes nothing. "'I've always kept a shirt on."

Baffled Lando wondered how could those other guys allow it. "So you've never shown your tits to a guy?" he said, almost astonished.

"No...It's not my asset and I know it. My, um...my ass is pretty good?" she defended and he had to try so hard not to picture her, on all knees, spine bending and her ass perked up towards him.

He swallowed, barely believing the words he was about to hear coming from his mouth. "Then show them to me."

Her eyes went wide. "Lando!" They had a close friendship, but not the kind where walk around naked in front of each other.

He held his arms up in defense. "No, I mean...hey, you know me. You have to show them to a guy one day anyway. And I promise I'll tell you the truth. No bullshit." He knew he crossed a line. Which was why he almost did not believe her next word.

"Ok."

To be fair, it did make some sense. If you really look for it. But while he was crushing on her without realizing, she had been crushing on him for months, fully aware of it. There was a tingling in her stomach when he made this suggestion. Unfamiliar, exciting tension. As if she wanted him to stare at her tits, no matter how insecure she felt about them.

"But I can't watch you," she added, turning around to face him. "I'd be too embarassed."

"So close your eyes?" he noted the obvious.

"No, you gotta tie my eyes," she said, making his cock twitch in his pants.

//

It was hard for Lando to wrap around his head what exactly was happening. As he was tieing up a band around Y/N eyes, she accidentally touched his hands when she was checking it.

"It is too tight?" he asked softly, waiting for her to deny it.

"All good."

He stepped away and turned her around so that she would stand face-to-face with him.

"Um, whenever you're ready, I guess," he announced. Part of him could not believe what was happening, another part of his was scared she's back out and another was terrified of himself. And how much he craved to see her.

She took a deep breath and tried to block all her thoughts. And boy, were there many. The strangest one was the excitement.

With one swift move she took her shirt off. Lando's pupils were wide and he probably didn't blink for minutes now. She bit her lower lip and turned around to face him. He had seen her in a bikini before, why was this so much better. She put her hands back and finally took her bra off.

He should have never suggested it. He knew he'd not forget the sight of her small, perky boobs with perfect nipples anytime soon. It was better when he did not know. He stared in silence, while she stood there, blindfolded, nervously rubbing her fingers.

"Gosh, say something, please," she pleaded impatiently.

"Um...No, um," he said, getting his voice stuck for a moment.

"Oh shit, it's bad, right?" she asked, while her heart sank in.

"No!," he immediately reacted, somewhat coming back to Earth. "They are...nice," he said, trying to downplay his own excitement. "Small, but nice. Firm...I guess."

She sighed. "Ok..."

He shifted himself, gaining more presence again. He was aware that what he said would affect her deeply, so his plan was to fix his initial reaction, not to make her wonder. "Seriously. If a girl I was on a date with had you're boobs, I'd be more than happy. Trust me."

She relaxed a bit and instinctively went to somewhat cover herself up again with her hands. "That's good to know. Thank you."

He wanted more. To see more. His hormones acted before he did, shooting the boldest test of their friendship.

"There is one thing my sister mentioned few times..." he said before he managed to stop himself. "Apparently...if you massage them, it helps the blood flow and helps them grow," he stated, almost ashamed of himself for making things up like that. It was wrong. He should have just tell her upfront just how much he wants ti touch her.

She knew well enough that was some bullshit. But it was a chance. To know what if feels like when a guy like Lando touches you.

"Um, this might sound weird, but, um, can you show me?" she asked, blinfold giving her the courage she normally lacked.

He could not believe he had standing in front of him, bare-chested, blindfolded and oh so innocent. This sight was awakening parts of him he did not know existed. At that point, he was hard as a rock.

"Yeah, I guess I could do that. But, you should probably lie down," he suggested and took her hand in his, leading her slowly to her bed. She could already feel the fire of his touch when he touched her shoulder. Lando shamelessly watched her nipples harden once he did. The blindfold was a miracle.

He laid her down on her back and popped himself up on his elbows on her left side. Now that they were on the bed, he started to feel more at ease and all of it felt less wrong. She couldn't see him, but his warmth radiated on her naked chest and his intoxicating cologne hit her nose once he put her down.

What she couldn't see was the way he smiled softly at the sights in front of him, taking his time to create as much imagery in his memory as possible. She shivered with cold.

"You should start, I'm getting cold," she said impatiently.

"Anything you want, baby" he replied absentmindedly, not noticing the way he addressed her. The word would ring in her ears for days on. Lando completely forgot what game he was suppose to play. His brain left the conversation a while ago and he was fully focused on the picture in front if him. He had lying down and waiting for his touch.

He started with her left nipple, lightly, feathery, almost non existent touch. His eyes were flashing between watching her chest rise up and down and her face. She bit her lower lip, as if she was trying to hide the way it affected her. He couldn't help but smile and lick his lips. He began tracing little figured of eight on the top of her nipple and when he was sure he got her sensitive enough, he pinched her for the first time. A soft, surprised sigh escaped her mouth. He did not have think about his actions at all, it was all so natural and easy. He pinched her nipple once again, harder this time, before he moved onto cupping her breast and giving it a squeeze, while watching her attentively. She pulled her head back a bit and he knew he had her. Afraid to speak, he continued to squeeze her and then traced her up and down, making sure not to miss her nipple anytime he did.

"The other one," she whispered so quietly he nearly missed it. But he didn't. With a smirk, he kept his hand on her left nipple, and reached over to her right breast. All of the adrenaline hitting up, he leaned over and when his mouth was almost touching her, then carefully licked her nipple. He watched her, half expecting her to freak out and send him away. To his satisfaction, she flinched in a way he never saw he before. There was something sensual, primal about the way air exited her mouth. Still blindfolded, she had no idea his eyes were glued on her face. If they weren't, he'd probably miss out on her soft "More...". He started kissing and gently biting the rest of her boobs, painting pictures with red bruises. She arched up a bit, as if her body was trying to get closer to him. First moan escaped her lips like a shy whisper. The rest that followed were unfiltered, mindless proof that she was fully in the moment. He got more and more excited, his cock hard as a rock, begging to get released. But he was afraid anything more would cause her to back off. So he continued with this actions, switching up between her nipples, breasts and sometimes roamed over to the neck. To get carried away was the easiest thing ever. As he tasted her skin, he got intoxicated. She surprised him when her hands reached out to his own body, done playing the passenger and joining on action. First she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing him more to her chest and then her soft fingers reached over to his shirt, movement suggesting to pull it off. This sort of woke him up back again. He pulled his shirt off and watched her smile when she noticed his bare chest.

"Now we're even," she commented and with no shame touched all around his muscles. A small alarm was going off in Lando's head. He was enjoying this a little too much. The realization that the line that got crossed was out of sight at that point hit him. So he chose to try and get even further. He leaned over to her face and licked the line of neck, stopping right at her ears. Then he bit her earlobe before wetting it with his tongue and blowing lightly on it. The shivers again. He could watch that all day. She melted into his embrace, arching towards him once again. Lando placed slow kisses on her cheek, one by one, until he got so close to her lips he could feel her breath mixing with his own. He hovered, prolonging this moment, the last seconds before it inevitably all fell down. Her chest was rising up and down rapidly. "Do it," she whispered, their lips almost touching accidentally. He waited for few moments, biting his own lip while wishing it was hers. "Not like this," he said, catching her off guard. Before she had a chance to respond, he reached over to her blindfold and removed it. Their eyes met for what felt like the first time. He saw high, excitement and a hint of fear, as she adjusted to the light and to the sight of him being so close. Reality check.

"Can I kiss you now?" he pleaded softly, staring at her, desperate for her answer.

It was all very different and very much real when she could see him. She gulped before taking the leap, falling into the trap that were his incredibly blueish green eyes.

"Yes."

[paperclip-skz]

Not Drinking For a Fun Time

fem*Reader x Bang Chan

*WARNING*

contains: p n v, sex, unprotected sex, kissing, TENSION, straight up delulu, grinding, oral (fem receiving), I'm sure I missed something; let me know in the comments.

WC: 8.7k

a/n: not gonna lie, I'm super nervous because this is my first ever "long fic" that I'm posting and I'm not sure how ya'll will react. This started out as a fluff story and we only meant to be a couple hundred words or so...and then it escalated. Also, my requests are open so if you have an idea and want me to play it out please do not be afraid to send me an ask, I'll pretty much anything fluff, scenario....the dirtier the better hehe

Synopsis: “I’m not a performer, and I’m not a singer. I can’t entertain people. What makes you think I can lie to them?” … this was the goal. Lie to the public about a relationship between you and Chris, but there was no relationship

***** 

You're at the bar. Sulking. Wishing you were at home but longing for another drink. Your day couldn’t be worse, from the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on to all the little things that ticked you off in the worst ways. 

The bartender rests another glass in front of you, the cold liquid reflecting the bar's dim light. “On the house,” he gestures to the drink. You nod your head in thanks and lazily grab the drink. You’ve already had enough to make your mind foggy, but not foggy enough. The events of today keep replaying in your head. 

“You’ll need to cooperate with us, Ms.L/N.” The shock is evident in not only your face but your tone as well. 

“Cooperate? You're asking me to be someone that I’m not.” Your chest heaves with anger, and your mind runs miles with adrenaline. 

“Y/N, please,” Chris coos. You whip your head around to meet the leader's and the group's defeated eyes. They have their heads hung low, still trying to process the information given in the meeting. 

“I’m not a performer, and I’m not a singer. I can’t entertain people. What makes you think I can lie to them?” … this was the goal. Lie to the public about a relationship between you and Chris, but there was no relationship. In fact, you didn’t know any of the members from Stray Kids. 

You didn’t know any of them until you started working in the same building as them. You’d pass them by in the halls, nodding in acknowledgment. One day, you were just off, stressed from all the work and frustrated that nothing was working. 

Chris noticed and asked if you were okay, being the amazing person he is. His comfort eased your stress, but anyone from afar could have mistaken his comfort for something else. The next thing you knew, pictures of you and Chris were plastered on every face of social media. Hell, you were even on the news.

Everyone was terrified that the public would react negatively and you wouldn’t be allowed to step a foot out of your own house, but it was the opposite. People swooned over your fake relationship and the idea that Chris had found someone that made him happy, but none of that was true. 

The sting of the liquid slides down your throat, and the bitter aftertaste makes your face scrunch. However, the foggy effects of the drink quickly fade your feelings. You notice a few snickers behind you, a pair of girls whispering and staring holes into the back of your head. You ignore them as much as possible while taking another small sip of your drink. 

Am I being overdramatic? Should I just go with what they are saying? People already think so, anyway. Thoughts cloud your mind, and you're entirely oblivious to the man who sneakily slides into the stool next to you. You turn your eyes to him and notice the ball cap that covers his face and the oversized black hoodie that hugs his body casually. 

He lifts his head to meet your eyes, and you're welcomed with soft brown eyes. You sigh…and groan simultaneously, taking another sip of your drink. “I’m not drinking for a fun time, Mr. Bahng.” 

“Then I’m not either.” he raises his finger, indicating a bottle. The bartender quickly sets a bottle of Soju on the counter along with a shot glass. 

You both sit there in silence as Chris pours a single shot. He swings his head back, taking the shot with ease. 

“What are you doing here Bahng?” your voice mimics defeat. 

“Drinking,” his voice is anything but defeat or sympathy. In fact, it almost sounds… optimistic. Your blood boils. How is he not angry, confused, or at least unhappy with the situation? You look at him with disgust.

You scoff under your breath, paying attention back to your glass, “I can’t believe you.”

“Can’t believe what?” he questions.

“I can’t believe you have no reaction. I can’t believe you're not angry. They are asking for us to be in a fake relationship, and you're not the least bit affected,” you whisper, careful not to let anyone hear. 

“I am angry, but not in the way you think” he turned his body to you. “I’m angry that you're in this situation. You didn’t ask for this, but here we are.” 

“I don’t think I can do this.” You lean forward, caging your head in your hands. Tears are threatening to spill. I can’t lie to the world when I don’t even want this. I don’t want to lie. I want to be able to date and have fun, not be caged to some contract just because someone mistook comfort for something else. I can’t have people watch my every move, just waiting for me to make the simplest mistake. 

“Not by yourself, you can’t,” his words lift your head slowly, and your body hangs low in front of you. 

“I don’t even know you.”

“That will come with time. Look, I won’t force you into this; no one will. But you need to know that things have already escalated, and if we don’t do something soon, they will continue to escalate. Yes, this is a solution, a messy one, but a solution.” The earnestness in his eyes makes your heart warm and the tears swell. “And you need to know, you're not doing this alone. I might be a stranger, but I’m here, and the guys say I’m a pretty good listener.” his last comment makes you chuckle as a single tear escapes you, rolling down your cheek. Chris instinctively reaches his hand to catch the tear on your cheek; his thumb delicately wipes the salty liquid off your cheek. The touch is simple but sweet, and you hate the way his touch electrifies your whole body. Your eyes meet, gentle brown eyes and a deep dimple smile. 

Your heart fills with an unfamiliar warmth, but it's welcomed….slightly. Maybe this won’t be as bad as you might think. 

They did offer money, and there's a contract, so does the risk really outweigh the means? Your mind is fighting to keep up with what's morally right and what you want. What do you want? 

You do the one thing you’ve always done: count to three in your head, breathe a long, deep breath, and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Okay.” You stare into Chris’s eyes, pleading for him to understand your hesitance. “I’ll do it.” 

Chris breathes out a sigh of relief, and you can physically see his body relax on the stool. He takes out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. He gives you a look and raises his eyebrows. It makes you laugh, but regardless, you shake his hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” 

“No problem, Mr.Bahng,” you spin in your chair and back to your drink.

“Please, call me Chris,” he nudges your shoulder playfully. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

*******

3 weeks go by after you agreed to be in this fake relationship. A contract was signed, and rules were in place, but that didn’t stop your nerves from crawling all over your body. 

“Okay, run this by me one more time so that I understand completely.” 

Stray Kids' head of marketing sits comfortably at the end of the table, scanning you and Chris. 

You and Chris, it's hard to think about. Since you’ve both agreed to this, you’ve gotten closer and become close friends. It’s hard to imagine that you barely even knew each other weeks ago, but now, he’s your closest friend, closer than anyone else. 

“The press and fans love your relationship; it's actually boosting ratings. Ever since we announced your ‘relationship,’” she air quotes the word, “your fans have been more active.”

You don’t know how to feel; you're glad that the band is getting more attention, but you're also a little nervous. I mean, how long is this little ruse supposed to go on for? “Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming?” 

“But, your fans are asking more and more questions. When did you meet? Are you two living together? How involved are you?” She directs each question to you as if you know all the answers. 

“So what can we do to ease the questions? Surely, no one can expect us to keep this up forever.” You’re thankful Chris can read your mind. 

The marketing head and everyone else in the room hold their breaths. The silence makes your heart thump and sink, “you are, aren't you?” The laugh that escapes you is humorless and breathy. “You are expecting us to keep this up, at least for as long as we can, until someone starts raising eyes, but even then, you’ll probably come up with some way to puppet us out of it.” 

Chris looks from you to the marketing head, waiting for someone to answer your accusation. “Well, is that true?” You’re both met with more silence, answering both of your questions. He scoffs next to you, joining you in your humorless acts.  “Well, what's your solution then?” 

There has to be a catch to all of this. “We suggest that you both…” she pauses, eyes screaming with concern, “start saying that you live together.” 

“Just start saying this publicly? That's all?” You wait for the answer to Chris’s question, but when their marketing professional meets your eye with a weary look, you already know it.

“No, they want us to live together and show it off,” you answer Chris before the head of marketing can speak. 

Chris is fuming beside you; this wasn’t a part of the deal, “But the contract-” 

“The contract states that both of you will keep up this act under any means necessary.” she pauses for a moment, “if the public sees that you are both happy and moving forward, there’s a very good possibility that they’ll be content and move onto another form of gossip. We need to show them that you're both just moving forward like a normal couple.” She tries to make sense of it, even though as you replay her words in your mind, they seem crazier and crazier. You and Chris share the same look of disapproval, but if they were right about this fake relationship, why wouldn’t they be right about anything else? “We just need to keep this act up until something better comes along,” she continues, directing her last comment directly at you, “I promise this will all be over soon. No idol can escape drama of some kind.”

You hang on desperately to her last words, which brings you here and now, moving the last box of your stuff into a small apartment the company paid for. At least you're not spending any real money on all this. You set your box down on the kitchen counter, clapping your hands. “Finally,” you breathe. 

You walk around the kitchen counter and into the living room. There's a large couch in the middle and two hallways on either side of the living room. One leads to Chris’s room and the other to yours. It's a small apartment, but it works for your situation. Chris had already moved his stuff into his room; you haven’t seen much of him. 

You saunter down the hall to your bedroom and collapse onto your bed. Suddenly, your phone starts to ring. You answer without looking at the caller ID, “Hi honey, how are you?”.

“Hey Ama, I’m good, how is Appa?” the smile reaches your ears as you talk endlessly with your mother. The second this whole thing started, the first thing you did was call your mother. Hearing her encouraging words made the whole ordeal a little less nerve-racking. You couldn’t lie to your mother, the rest of the world…maybe, but not her. 

After an hour, you hang up the phone with your mom, bidding her a goodnight. “Jesus, it's late.” You look out into the cold night sky, guessing you kind of lost track of time. 

You get up from your spot on your bed and hurriedly get dressed into your sleepwear until your stomach pains with the feeling of being empty. Hunger overwhelms you as you make your way out to the kitchen quietly. You're wearing an oversized sweater and shorts, with your hair up in a messy bun as you enter the kitchen to find Chris eating cereal. “Don’t tell me that’s your dinner.” 

“Hey! I will let you know that this is a perfectly normal late-night snack,” Chris says between mouthfuls. He’s wearing a black tank top, showing off his defined arms and grey sweatpants. It's so casual, but why does it make him look so hot? 

It makes you chuckle and shake your head, and you slowly make your way to the middle of the kitchen. 

The one word to describe the air in the room right now is awkward. What do you do? Do you act like he’s not there and just go about making food? Do you take a snack into your room and leave him be? Maybe he's hungry, but is asking to make him some food too much? 

Chris sees the gears turning in your head, “do you want something to eat?” He asks.

“Oh, Um. Yeah, but I’m not sure what to make just yet.” You fiddle with your sleeve.

“There's ramen in the cabinets and cereal in the other one. I’m not sure what's in the fridge, but I’m sure there's some fruit if you’d like.” You nod your head, thinking of what you're craving. “But we can always order something if you're craving something specific?” 

He’s so kind. It's the same kindness he showed that fateful day when someone mistook that kindness for something more intimate. You smile at the thought. “Fruit sounds good.” You walk over to the fridge and scan its contents. You settle on some strawberries, take the plastic box, and run it through the sink. You don’t know how hungry you really are, so instead of wasting a plate and taking it to your room, you settle on just plucking each strawberry out of the plastic container. 

*Chris* 

Chris watches as you wrap your plump lips around each strawberry; his mind spins with different ideas. He thinks of your lips wrapping around his finger, your tongue twirling around his digit. He thinks of his cock springing free and your hand pumping him to full length while your mouth hangs low in anticipation. He leans forward, guiding himself across your waiting tongue…

“So why are you up so late?” Your comment snaps him out of his fantasies. He tries to shuffle in his spot, making it seem casual when, in reality, his sweats have become uncomfortably tight. 

“I had some work I needed to finish, and then I got hungry.” he gestures to the now empty bowl, “How about you?” 

“I was on a call with my mom, lost track of time, and then got hungry.” You gesture to the strawberry in your hand and slowly wrap your lips around it. Chris looks down, trying not to stare, but then he swallows a groan when he sneaks a glimpse of your bare legs. Shorts. She’s just wearing shorts. Get a hold of yourself. 

Chris needs to think of something to divert the conversation. It's too awkward right now, and it's not helping when all he can think about is ripping your shorts off. 

“Ho-”

‘Yo-”

You both speak at the same time. Clearly, you are both trying to make the whole thing a little more comfortable. Both of you chuckle at the realization. 

“I really hope we can make this whole thing a little less awkward,” Chris says as you start packing the rest of the strawberries and putting the stems in the nearby trash can. 

“Me too,” you sigh.

“We’re friends! The only show we have to put on is for the camera”

******

This was a shit idea. He can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t function without a single thought leading back to you. And this “ruse” is going on for way too long. 

It's been 3 months. 3 whole months! 

But Chris couldn’t lie—it's been the best three months. You’ve both gotten so comfortable with each other that you’ve dedicated Fridays to movie night. Chris will sometimes bring your coffee order to you just because he knows you’d appreciate it, even if he doesn’t drink coffee himself. 

You’ve gotten to know each other so well and laughed so hard together that it just feels natural. 

He can’t help it. Even before this whole thing happened, he’d always watched you from afar, admired how hard you worked and how beautiful you were. But it was always that—a distant crush. 

Until this whole ordeal just planted itself right in his lap. He had to get close to you and take a chance with you. He didn’t care if it was fake. It was a chance. 

But tonight, he was cursing at himself for ever agreeing to this deal in the first place. 

It had been three months, so the public was starting to ask questions about when they were going to see you at an event…together. So, the marketing team decided that a red carpet-event was the perfect time to show you off to the public. 

Just a few pictures, maybe some conversations, but that's it. Then we’ll both be home, and we can just watch a movie. At least, that's what he thought. 

You both got ready separately because Chris had an interview an hour before the event. He was waiting by the front for your car to pull forward, and that's when you stepped out. 

His eyes widened, and his breath literally caught in his throat. Your dress was long and elegant, with one strap hanging loosely on your shoulder while the other was bare. It hugged your hips tightly to accentuate your best features. The slit was high, a little higher than you’d prefer, but it matched the theme of the dark red dress. The back of the dress was bare and reached down just before the curve of your ass. 

Chris took a long, low breath, trying to control the fighting urge inside him. He was staring at the way the dress flowed with every step you took; it was like you were walking on water with how graceful each heel clicked. 

“What?” 

He took his eyes off your legs and up to your doe eyes, which were smoky. It makes your eyes bright and glow. 

“N-nothing. I-” It was hard for him to form words. He knew you were beautiful; he thought about it every day, but he never saw you like this. He always saw you in either comfy clothes or your work clothes, never this. “You look beautiful.” 

He could see the natural blush from underneath your makeup, and he melted at the sight of your smile. 

“Shall we?” Chris held out his arm.

“We shall.” You took his arm, and he walked you inside the event. 

Easy peasy.

***

There were endless flashes and pictures, and reporters were screaming from one side to the other. You and Chris were being pulled from one background to another, everyone begging to get a picture of the happy couple. If only they knew. 

Chris was holding the middle of your back, smiling widely at each camera. Your body shivered from his touch. Surely he could feel the goosebumps across your skin. If he did, he didn’t let you know. His previous comment lingered in your mind, and it made your body warm with affection. 

He’s wearing a tailored black suit with just the jacket. It was styled so that he didn’t need a shirt to complement the jacket. It was high enough to cover everything but low enough to show his muscular chest. He stole your breath away—there's no better way to put it. 

His hold on you could be seen as endearing to the public eye, but you knew his tight hold felt different. It felt possessive. As he guided you from one area to another, his touch became more apparent to you. You could map out the roughness of the pads of his fingers, the feeling of the cold metal from his accessories, and how his palm rested fully on your skin. 

It sent tingles through your body, tingles you haven't felt in a while. 

At one point, he guided you to another photographer. Your smile falters, the exhaustion getting to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chris turn his head to look at you, studying you. You couldn’t see if he was smiling. All you could tell was that he was looking at you. The photographers must be eating this up. 

You focused on trying to keep your smile up until you felt the tip of Chris's finger tilt your chin in his direction. Your eyes meet, and your smile immediately fades. Thinking you did something wrong, you search his eyes, but all you see is warmth. Your worry fades, your lips part, and your mind goes blank. The noise of the photographer fades, the tightness of the dress disappears, and every little thing is gone, the only thing you can hear, see, and breathe is Chris. 

His eyes wander from you to your lips and back to your eyes, secretly asking for permission. It's for the camera. You tilt in your head, begging for him to lean in. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as Chris slowly leans in to graze his lips across yours. He presses a little hard to envelop your lips. His tongue slips across your bottom lip, and his hand on your back itches to touch you more. 

Loud cheers ultimately break up your little moment, and Chris quickly separates his lips from yours. The party mask slips back into action when his dimple smile appears and flashes towards the camera. 

A few more pictures and smiles and Chris quietly guides you out of the red carpet area—the feeling of his soft lips on your own leaves a tattooed memory in your brain. Finally, you and Chris are inside the elegant building. Art decorates each wall, and people mingle around, admiring the work of the artist, sharing conversations, and enjoying the drinks floating around by the staff. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I thought maybe it would be a good idea for the camera.” Chris is quick to answer any accusation that you didn’t have prepared. 

“Oh, yeah, you're right. It was a good move.” You try to seem calm and cool about what just happened. I mean, you are cool with what he did; you just wish it lasted longer. “For the camera.” 

“For the camera” the last few words come out breathy and soft by the both of you, not sure if either of you truly means it. 

“Chris!” shouts of his name come from afar, and you recognize the familiar faces. “Guys!” Chris gives his members a big hug, leaving you to follow close behind. You remember the ones who are here: Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix, all gather to greet Chris. 

You leave them to get caught up, knowing they’ve missed seeing each other. A waiter comes by, offering you a drink, and you take it with grace. You know there will be a driver taking you home tonight, so why not have a few drinks? You wander around, enjoying the sight of the beautiful art. 

Colors and interesting figures decorate each canvas. You read each name and study the painting, wanting to understand exactly what the artist was feeling when creating each masterpiece. 

You stop at a particular painting of a woman. She's surrounded by different shades of black and white, her body covered by just a sheet of cloth. Her bare shoulder and the side of her face are turned away from the view of the audience, seeming like she is trying to hide her naked figure. The cloth in question is splattered with all different shades of red. You examine the title of the piece, “Hidden Lust.”

“Interesting painting?” A voice startles you from behind. Chris stands behind you, examining the painting with you. 

You smile, returning to the painting. “How are the boys?”

“They’re good; they asked about you.” A smirk plays on his lips as he studies the painting alongside you. 

You hum and examine the brittle strokes of the painting. You both stand there in silence, admiring each delicate brush of paint. 

Once you hear Chris's steady breathing, all concentration on the painting goes out the window. You can practically feel it on your skin, sending tingles straight to your core. You and Chris stand a mere few inches apart, your hands twitching to touch. 

All thoughts of how the artist could be portrayed in the painting have left your mind; the only thing that haunts your mind is the feeling of Chris’s lips on yours. The fainted memory still makes your skin tingle and your core pound with need. Suddenly the breath you have been holding releases with a long sigh, and you can see Chris suck in a breath. 

Slowly, your head turns in his direction, and Chris does the same. You both hold eye contact for what feels like forever, silently sending each other hidden messages. The air between you is so thick it becomes hard to breathe. Your eyes dart down onto his lips, retaining the memory once again, imagining what his lips would feel like if they were placed on other parts of your body. 

“There’s the lucky couple!” your moment is broken once again, and Chris is left to greet more flooding guests. Once again, you're left to wander the walls…alone. 

***

Where did she go? He’s been roaming around this building for what feels like hours. If he wasn’t stopped every five minutes, maybe he could find you. 

It's not until he sees the dark, silky color of your dress he finally releases the breath he’s been holding. 

You're walking away from a painting and venturing off into another room filled with more art. He couldn't care less about the pieces hanging on the walls. He keeps thinking about that kiss. 

It was meant to be quick, and he meant to slide his thumb right between the two of you so that your lips wouldn’t touch. But the moment was too quick, and the camera was too bright, and before he knew it, your lips were touching. It was like kissing a flower petal, light and soft, and he craved more. He wanted to kiss you so that you would kiss back with the same passion he felt inside, but he couldn’t do that now, not when everyone was watching. He would take what he could get, even if it was just a small, simple kiss. 

Leaving the cameras, he could see the confusion on your face, and worry settled in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have done that, not without asking you first, not with cameras taking pictures of your every move, not when the whole world was watching. That's why he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

I’m such an idiot, he thought to himself. 

Calm and frantic battle in his body with each step he takes to you. This room is filled with sculptures on every corner, and smaller paintings hang. The last few people leave the room so that it's just you and Chris. He sees you studying a sculpture of two people holding each other in an embrace. The two mold together with a shared kiss, and what looks to be water made of stone surrounds them. It's quite beautiful, but the person looking at the art piece is even more stunning. His mind screams with the need to feel your lips on his once again, but he forces himself to stand next to you in silence, pretending as if he cares about the art piece in front of him. 

“I’m sorry I keep getting pulled away.” He whispers as he slides next to you. 

“No need to apologize; you're famous, and people want to meet you.” He can tell you’re holding something back. He’s only known you for a few months, but it feels like years to him. 

“Still, I came here with you. I should be at least spending some time with you,” he can’t help but look at you, at the way your features react to his words, the way your chest rises and falls as you breathe, and the way your nails pick at each other. You're holding something back, and it's killing him inside. “Did I-... Did I make you uncomfortable… with that kiss?”

His question physically takes you aback. He's trying to read you, trying to predict what you’ll say next. Everything runs through his mind: you slapping him, you yelling at him, you kissing him-

“No, of course not.” Chris breathes out a sigh. “It's just-” your eyes wander, and his body stiffens…again. “I-” you attempt to say something, “...nothing,” but your mouth shuts, and your attention is back on the sculpture. 

Knowing he didn’t make you uncomfortable eases him, but not knowing what's on your mind makes his mind wander. If he didn’t make you uncomfortable, what could possibly be going on in that pretty head of yours?

“Y/N” Chris grabs hold of your arms to turn you to face him. “Please, tell me what's on your mind, or else I might lose mine.”

You suck in a breath and open your mouth to say something. “I just…” your eyes wander once again, but Chris quickly takes his other hand to caress his thumb over your jaw, bringing your attention back onto him. “I just really want-”

“Bahng! There you are!” a tall man with spikey black hair holds his arms out. His suit blinds the both of you as his sequined suit sparkles in the light.

“Oh my god, I’m going to end up in jail tonight if we don’t get out of here soon.” his comment makes you laugh, and his body melts at the sound. 

I can’t wait till I finally get you alone. 

*****

Hours later, you are finally home, out of that tight dress, and your hair is free. You're relaxing on the couch, watching as the rain carelessly falls out the window. You thought a nice cup of tea would help the cloud of thoughts in your mind, and then you thought the rain would help, but so far, nothing has helped. 

The way Chris spoke earlier replays in your mind like a constant dream. The way he touched you, the way his eyes bored into your soul. You were so close to confessing that you wanted more than just a simple kiss; he made you want more of him. 

Now you're here, dreading if he walks out here and the awkwardness is back up. You both worked so hard to become comfortable with each other, and you don’t want that awkward tension to fill the room again. 

You hear the door creak open, signaling that Chris is out of the shower. He comes out in a pair of sweats and a loose shirt, rubbing a towel over his drenched hair. 

“You’re still up,” he says surprised. 

“Yeah, can’t sleep. Must be leftover adrenaline from tonight.” that's a lie. It's because stupid Chris won't stay out of your stupid mind. 

He nods his head, and you go back to staring blankly out the window. Thick silence, so thick it could be cut with a knife. You could feel the nerve on the end of your skin, and you pray that Chris doesn’t notice. 

“Back at the gala, you were about to say something.” 

You whip your head around, seeming dumbfounded. “Oh, I-” How do I get out of this? “I don’t remember” 

He slumps, looking defeated. “Oh, I see.” The pout on his lips makes your insides turn and ache. What did he want to hear?

“Do you…want to watch a movie?” his innocent question makes you smile. “Sure, I'd like that.” 

***

This was pointless. It's not like you’re actually paying attention to the movie. Your mind is clouded with doubts and thoughts, and Chris just sits there, enjoying the mindless action movie you guys agreed on. 

He’s so focused on what's playing on the screen. His lips are slightly parted, his eyes glow with every loud explosion, and his brows furrow every time a character takes a hit. It’s fun to study him, it's more entertaining than this damn movie….I wonder if all he’s thinking is about the movie.

***

Why the fuck does she keep looking at me? Do I have something on my face? Maybe she can see right through me and tell that I’ve been thinking about her? Can girls do that?

It is taking every bit of will he has left in his body for Chris to keep looking at this damn movie. He stopped paying attention halfway through it because he got a glimpse of your bare thigh. You're wearing shorts again, and it might actually kill him this time. God, he wants to touch you so badly. He wants to rake his hands through your thighs. He wants you to pull his hair and guide him over your body. He wants you to show him what makes you scream, and then he wants to make you scream his name-

“Do you know what's going on? Because I think I’m lost.” 

Chris snaps his head in your direction…shit.

“Uhh…well…you see the guy he… yea, I haven’t really been paying that much attention,” he breathes out a sigh of defeat. 

“Really! You looked like you were really paying attention.” if only you knew. “I guess I just kind of zoned out,” he scratches the back of his head, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“What were you thinking about?” your voice sounds so hopeful, but he can’t stop thinking about you running out of the apartment the second he confesses. 

“Oh…nothing” 

“Oh,” you went from hopeful to disappointment with a single word, and it made his chest ache. You both sit in silence for a beat too long, watching the movie unfold before you. 

He can’t bear the silence. It feels like that first week all over again, and it's killing him inside. “Looks like the storm is passing pretty quickly.”

Your head snaps to him with a quirked eyebrow. You stare at his unphased face for what feels like an eternity…then…The room fills with your laughter. “You want to talk about the weather?”

“Uhh”

More sounds of laughter crowd the room. “What?” he's in utter shock. What could possibly be so funny right now?

“Nothing. Yes, it does look like it's dying down,” but it’s laced with sarcasm; anyone can hear it, Chris, most of all. 

His hooded eyes look down at you with a ‘serious’ look. “What?” Your hands are thrown up in surrender. 

“Nothing,” he matches with the same tone.

He’s met with your giggles. The light shift of the mood makes his smile wide, and finally, he’s at ease. Finally, you smile again, and the awkward tension dissipates. 

Your body stretches in a long yawn, and in doing so, it inches closer to Chris. Over time, your head falls onto Chris’s shoulder, relaxing into his warmth. 

Chris���s body is on fire. Every nerve and sense is hyper-aware of your every move; it's like he can feel you without the barrier of his clothes. 

His eyes look down, watching you rest in his comfort. He feels like a teenager again, experiencing his first crush. He can feel butterflies in his stomach, and his palms begin to sweat. No one has ever made him feel this nervous.

Your shirt dips down just below the swell of your breasts, and he curses at himself for even looking. He hates the fact that your body has so much control over him, but he loves it at the same time. He thinks about all the ways your body could torture him. Your body wrapped in fragile lingerie that he could rip with his teeth, your naked body underneath him, fully exposed for him-

“Oh my god.” 

You’re both startled apart from each other. Chris only takes a minute to follow your shocked eyes down to the prominent tent forming at his pants. 

Shit.

“I- um,” Chris scrambles to find a pillow or blanket to cover his bulge. How could this happen now of all times? He expects to hear your screams, your words of disgust, or something that results in him leaving the apartment with his head hung low in shame. But more laughter echoes around the room, and he sees you turned over, holding your belly with giggles.  

“I would apologize, but it looks like you're enjoying my embarrassment.” 

“It's not that,” your voice cracks with laughs. “I just was surprised. I know you can’t control it.” more laughter fills the room. If only you weren’t laughing at his embarrassment, he would actually enjoy hearing your giggles. 

“I have more control than that,” Chris scoffs. 

“Then what is it?” You look at him, your smile still shining, while his fades. This is his chance; it's now or never. You could either lock yourself in your room, and he could never see you again, or he could be the happiest man alive. 

He takes a deep breath. “I was thinking about…our kiss”. 

***

You wish you could say you had an immediate reaction, that you jumped into his arms the second he mentioned you, but you were dumbstruck. Your eyes were shot, and your lips parted in a silent gasp. 

“I guess it was a good kiss.” Chris shrugged, his smile mimicking a quiet laugh. 

“It was.” You recall the memory, and instinctively, you wet your lips. Chris holds your gaze, not letting you run or cower away again. 

The two of you are engaged in a silent battle, each waiting for the other to give in and address the unspoken tension between you. However, you refuse to be the first to make a move, unwilling to risk misinterpreting the situation.

Your breathing becomes shallow and heavy, “I should go to bed,” but you have no intention of moving. Rather than moving, you stay perfectly still, gazing at Chris, shifting your gaze from his eyes to his lips.

Chris inches closer, leaning into you. “Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away.” 

Another moment of silence settles in the air. His espresso eyes contrast with his pale skin, entrapping you, unable to move, speak, or breathe. His hand comes up to caress your cheek and moves a strand of hair away from your face. “Tell me you don’t feel what I feel,” he says.

Your breath is thick and trapped, and words never make it past your lips. All you can do is communicate with your eyes and beg for him to understand your silence. “I need you to tell me, baby”.

Already breathy and chest heaving with need, you nod your head rapidly and stutter out a “yes.” 

Within seconds, Chris's lips are on yours. It's nothing like the previous kiss you shared; this one is hungry, desperate, and has shallow breaths stolen when your lips part but immediately back as if they have been deprived and starved.  

His hands cup your face, deepening the kiss. You can feel his tongue silently ask permission, sliding along your bottom lip. You steal another breath, which Chris takes as an opportunity to push his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He swallows your pleasurable moans as your hands tug and pull him closer to your body. 

Heat radiates off of him like lust steaming off his body, and you can feel his muscles tense when you rake your hands over his clothes, begging him to remove his shirt.

Chris uses his body weight to push your back flat against the couch; he lodges his leg between your thighs, spreading your legs and pressing against your core. The sudden tension makes you groan into Chris’s mouth, which he devours.  

He keeps the tension on your core, slightly rubbing his thigh against it every now and again. When his hands move down, one to grasp you by your hip and another to fondle your breast is when you separate your lips to release the sudden gasp, all the while, you arch your back.

His grip on your hip tightens, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” his words rasp into your ear, sending shockwaves down every nerve in your body.  

His hands hold you close to his body, and all the while, his eyes wander. Words blend into moans and whimpers as Chris keeps your burning core stimulated with his thigh. “How do you want it, baby?” His voice buzzes in your ear, and it shoots straight to your gut, making you needy and excited for more. 

“Tell me what you want.” your hands shoot into Chris’s hair, tugging and angling his head so you can kiss him again. You just want him, all of him. With your tongue plunged into his mouth, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His thigh moves so his hips join with yours, pushing his growing bulge against your thumping core.

Your lips part and open to say something, but Chris adds more pressure to his hips, pushing his erection against you. What you were going to say dies on your tongue, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “I want you so bad,” he growls, hiding his rosy cheeks in the crook of your neck. His hips find a slow rhythm, grinding both your clothed cores against each other. 

“Chris,” you moan his name, and you can feel his groin twitch against his pants. Your positive Chris can smell your arousal dripping from you. The wet spot thats gathered at the base of your panties is evidence of it. 

“Please,” you whimper, desperate for more of him. He hums in your shoulder before biting the flesh. The sudden pain causes your face to contort, but it quickly subsides as you feel Chris’s tongue soothing the mark, leaving a beautiful love bite behind.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot” Your mind is fuzzy with how Chris is grinding his erection into you. 

Without warning, Chris pulls his body up, only to crawl down between your legs. He makes quick work of ridding your lower clothing. Leaving you bare in front of him. Your pussy clenches from his intense stare, and your face heats when he realizes it. “What? Do I make you nervous when I stare?”

You can feel the heat of his breath against your folds. It makes you clench around nothing…and he smirks at the sight. 

Chris starts to kiss your thighs, inching closer to your dripping pussy. Finally, relief washes over you as Chris wets your lips with his tongue. Your hand goes back into Chris’s hair, tugging him closer. 

You bite your lip, trying to keep your moans quiet as his wet muscle swirls around your swollen bundle of nerves. You hold back your screams of pleasure, not willing just yet to let him hear you. 

“Are you holding back?” Chris peaks up from between your legs. Your hips follow him, begging for him to continue. You both meet eyes, and he can tell you’ve been holding back your screams from him. “Don’t. I want to hear you. I want the neighbors to know my name,” and with that, he dives back between your legs, attacking your clit like there is no tomorrow. 

You scream his name in pleasure, grinding your hips onto him. Chris works in tandem in sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue inside your walls. 

Within minutes your coating his chin with your juices and moaning at the relief in your body. Your orgasm washes over you, but that doesn’t stop Chris. He loves the way your pussy tastes. The sweetness he can feel on his tongue electrifies his whole body. 

“Chris, I- ahg -wait, I can’t” Chris keeps his previous pace, sucking your clit and looping his tongue inside your folds. 

“Come for me, baby. You’ve done so well.” Chris slides his middle finger past your wet folds, curling it up so it hits the gummy spot that makes you see stars. Your legs begin to shake, and your whole body convulses at the added feeling. 

“Chris!” you scream his name as your second orgasm squirts onto his shirt. Your legs shut close, and Chris removes himself from between them. He jumps up to kiss your forehead and lips gently. “You did so well for me, baby. I’ve got you,” he coos softly. 

One of his hands rubs soft circles on your hips, biding them open again. The ache of overstimulation subsides and your legs begin to open again. Chris kisses your forehead gently one last time, a smirk clear on his face. 

 Lost in lust, you tug off his shirt, revealing his chiseled abs and defined body. Your eyes go wide, but Chris takes your lips in a hurried kiss. You rake your hand down his pecks to his abs, stopping just before where his V-line meets the button of his pants. You break the kiss to find that his face is contorted to what looks like pain. Worry shoots through you, but Chris snaps his eyes open and cages you below him, his arms on either side of your head, “no one has ever touched me like that.” he breathes…” Do it again.”

***

You both tugged at each other, prying more clothes off your bodies and ending up in your current position. You straddling his lap, rubbing your bare cunt against his cock.

Logic and reason left your mind when Chris had you quivering over his tongue. “Y/N, shouldn’t we-” 

But you didn’t want to wait another second. You lifted your lips to guide your folds onto Chris’s waiting cock. You both groan at the pleasure. 

Immediately, you start swirling your hips, chasing that pleasure. “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you clenched at his words. You cling to his words. You hope those words are true, even after this night, after this whole contract thing is over. You don’t want this to end. You hug yourself close to his body, grasping his shoulders, and you can tell by the way he holds you close that he’s thinking the same thoughts as you. 

You lift your hips slowly only to let yourself settle back down onto his cock. You both relish the feeling, not wanting it to be over too soon; You set a measured pace. 

You can see the sweat trickle down Chris’s forehead. His hands claw the flesh of your ass, willing himself not to ram into you. The last thing he wants is for this to end too quickly, and he’ll be damned if he comes before you do. 

A mixture of moans and grunts fills the room. Your hips have a mind of their own as they begin to grind into him at a more steady pace. Your nails leave red marks on his shoulders, “I want to see you, want to watch you come,” Chris grunts out. 

Something within you snaps. You don’t know if it was his words or the growing knot twisting inside you, but with his words, you lift your hips and slam down onto his cock. You set a brutal pace, bousing on top of him. Chris grinds his teeth but wills his eyes open so he can watch your perfect tits bounce. 

You are both lost in the pleasure of each other, and both of you try to chase your release. Chris’s hands grip your waist like a vice, helping you lift your hips in tandem with his thrusts. 

“God, you feel so fucking good.” His thrusts become frantic, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix perfectly. With a few more final thrusts into you, you were coming undone onto his cock. Screaming his name and leaving scratch marks against his abs. 

His cock plunged desperately in and out of your spasming, creaming cunt, using your body shamelessly for his own euphoric release. The harsh sounds of skin slapping skin and shattered moans and muffled curses echoed off the walls as Chris pushed his cock into you and coated your inner walls white. 

You both stilled, with heavy and shaky breathing being the only forms of communication you could muster. 

You couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, and your mind was nothing but a pile of mush. It was once you opened your eyes and realized you had been moved, cleaned, and tucked into your own bed did you realize that you passed out in Chris’s arms. 

You expected to wake up in his arms, but he was nowhere to be seen. You were left in your own room, alone and cold. 

“Chris?” you called, hoping what you experienced wasn’t a dream, that it was real. It sure felt real. Your legs and pussy were still sore just thinking about it. 

Worry begins to settle in. What if you did imagine all of it? What if you're back to a feeling that's all too familiar, with uncomfortable tension that sends shivers down your spine and nights filled with longing for what could have been?

“Look who’s finally up.” You turned your head to your door frame, where Chris was holding a bag of food in one hand. 

You could feel your shoulders relax, “what, you didn’t think I dish you after one night, did you?” he came closer, setting the bag to the side. 

“No, just got me worried.” Chan comes brings his hand up to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch. 

*Chris*

You both knew what was coming. Now that the tension has spoken for itself, what does that mean for the both of you?

Chris sits himself on the edge of your bed, taking a breath for what he’s about to say, but you speak first. 

“What does this mean now? Is the contract still in place?” 

His ears perk up and his eyes widen. He wasn’t about to let you go, no now, not ever. “I’ll be honest. I like you… a lot.” a chuckle escapes him “and I don’t want this to be the end. But I also don’t want to push you, if you don’t want the same.-”

“I do” you interrupt him. Your cheeks flush with that pretty pink that makes him melt and your smile shines high which makes his chest fill with a warmth he’s never felt before. 

“You do?”

“I like you too, I wouldn’t have done what we did if I didn’t. And honestly, I could give two shits about the contract right now” you chuckle with him. 

“Then how about this…” he twists his body so he can comfortably face you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “a new contract, physically binding.” he smiles, but suddenly changes his tone to a more serious one, “I promise to make you laugh, I promise to piss the hell out of you, but make it up to you, to make you smile, to bug the hell out of you, and I promise that as long as I call you mine, I will love you with all of me.”

Your smile stretches miles and you shake his hand. With heartfelt sincerity, you speak, “I promise to always find ways to bring a smile to your face and fill the air with laughter. I promise to make mistakes, but find ways for you to forgive me, I also promise to love every part of you even the parts you may seem unlovable.” Your voice is so angelic as if it’s softly whispering into his ear. 

You both share a tender kiss, feeling the warmth of each other's embrace. As your lips meet, a rush of emotions overcomes you, and you find yourselves entwined in each other's arms. The soft touch of your partner's skin against yours creates an intimate and comforting atmosphere. As you lay in bed, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in each other's love. In this moment, you both find solace in the knowledge that no matter what challenges life may present, you have each other to lean on.

[sanarsi]

Royal Vows

groom!Oberyn Martell x f!Reader

Summary: The wedding of members of the royal family carries with it obligations. One of them is the consummation of the marriage. Warnings: +18, MDNI, unprotected PIV in front of WITNESSES, soft!dom!Oberyn, wedding stress Wordcount: 2,8k An: Don't judge me, but I would give anything to marry him and bear his sons. I have dirty mind with this fic but I hope you’ll enjoy xx Music I worked with: MAMA EH - Elyanna

Masterlist

Weddings were among the most boisterous events in Dorne. The party lasted at least for several days and the wine flowed freely. You witnessed your cousin's wedding once and you had to admit, that after it was over, you could barely get out of bed. The people of the desert loved to dance from dawn to dawn and you loved it.

But on your wedding day it stopped being so much fun. Everything started to scare you.

There was always too much or too little of something. Nothing was perfect. And the worst thing was that you were alone in all of this.

You hadn't been able to see the prince since yesterday and you didn't know that it would hit you so hard. Even though you had been engaged for half a year and you had only been talking to each other for a month, you had gotten used to his presence.

That's why standing in your wedding dress, you couldn't get rid of your anxious thoughts. Holding your hand on your stomach, you tried to control your breathing. You were barely able to notice how the servants were running in every direction and fixing the last details on your outfit.

Gold chains wrapped around your forehead, trailing down your back and bare arms. The slightest movement made them irritate your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m done, my lady,” the young girl spoke, slowly releasing your hand. You looked down at the patterns that now adorned your skin. You barely managed to force a shaky smile at her before you nodded your head to send her away.

The golden belt tightened around your waist, and the tightness made you unable to think straight. You needed any kind of stimulus to stay sane.

“Not too tight, my lady?” the maid asked behind you. You shook your head, pressing your lips into a line.

“Tighter,” you ordered.

You stared at the floor as you walked, led by your brother through the palace corridors. Your face was covered by a translucent golden veil, which allowed you to feel safer. Allowing you to hide from the whole world.

You tightened your grip on your brother's shoulder, which made him glance at you. You were paler and looked like you were about to throw up the breakfast you hadn't eaten anyway. Nothing had passed your throat since yesterday.

You were too stressed about today.

Your wedding to the prince of Dorne.

"I thought you liked him," he whispered, leaning towards you so no one else could hear what you were talking about. You swallowed hard and nodded. You liked each other.

Even more than just liked.

"So what's the problem? Why do you look like you're going to squeeze a ghost?" he asked, frowning. You glanced at him when you stopped in front of the huge doors to the ceremonial hall. You saw the concern in his eyes.

He always defended you from all the evil of this cruel world. That's why he felt helpless when in this one situation, he couldn't help you in anything. He couldn't do anything even if you said, you'd rather die than marry a prince.

"I'm afraid of what will happen after the wedding," you said the moment the guards opened the door. For a moment he looked lost in your eyes until he understood what you meant. But now it was too late to talk.

Dozens of people separated you from the altar where you were to become a wife.

Dozen of people separated you from becoming Princess of Dorne.

From becoming the wife of Prince Oberyn Martell.

You took one last deep breath and proudly lifted your head as your brother began to lead you deeper into the grand ceremonial hall.

The sun was shining through the columns, reflecting off your golden dress.

The nobility watched your every move, judging how you presented yourself as a bride. But everyone was silent. Culture forbade them from speaking to anyone until the wedding was concluded.

That's why every breath you took seemed like a gust of desert storm. Your heart tried to jump out of your chest when you finally noticed Oberyn.

He stood proudly presenting himself in his wedding robes. He looked perfect as always. His piercing gaze was fixed on your face hidden behind the veil. And even though he couldn't see your eyes, you had the impression that he was looking only into them.

You gasped for air, starting to tremble. You tightened your grip on your brother's arm to keep from tripping.

"I won't let you fall," he whispered, and his hand tightened on yours. So little, yet it was enough for you to stand in front of the altar in one pice.

Oberyn slowly walked down a few steps and, looking only at you, extended his hand toward you. You stared at each other for a moment before a faint smirk appeared on his lips and a flock of butterflies appeared in your stomach.

Your brother loosened his grip, and without hesitation, you gave your hand to Oberyn. His warm fingers tightened on your skin as he carefully pulled you toward him and helped you reach to the top of the altar.

“You shine brighter than the sun, my queen,” he whispered, pulling your hand to his lips. His lips gently touched the back of your hand, sending shivers through your body.

His eyes didn’t leave yours even as the wedding ceremony began. And that was the only thing that kept you from thinking about anything else. His dark eyes held you to him like a magnet.

Nothing else mattered.

Only the desire with which he looked at you.

"The gods are your witnesses." The priest's voice bounced off the walls, and immediately afterwards there was loud applause and screams from the people. That was the only thing that pulled you out of your hypnosis.

You blinked a few times as Oberyn slowly lifted your veil and threw it back. His eyes lit up when he saw you without any barriers.

You looked like a goddess wearing wedding jewelry and makeup. As if the gods had added extra shine to you on your wedding day.

Specifically so you could charm and tame him.

But the gods didn't know you had already done that long ago.

His fingers grabbed your chin and his thumb gently ran over the painted line that stretched down, disappearing under your dress. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted at his touch.

And then, there were only his lips.

The blood rushed in your ears as he pressed his lips hard against yours.

With desire.

But he kissed you slowly and deeply.

With love.

For a moment, you were completely alone. His hands wrapped around you. Your hands on his neck. His lips on yours. Your fingers in his hair. His tongue connected with yours in a slow dance. And your soft moan before he pulled away with a smirk.

"The Prince and Princess of Dorne," the priest said loudly and another wave of cheers echoed around. You smiled widely as Oberyn stole another gentle kiss.

"My wife," he whispered against your lips and nuzzled your nose. He pulled you closer as he turned to the people, raising his hand with a smile. You snuggled into his side and did the same, greeting the witnesses of your wedding.

The smiles and applause made you forget for a second what awaited you in a few moments.

Oberyn held your hand tightly as you walked in silence through the palace corridors.

You were stressed.

You had told him about it long before that day, so he tried to focus your full attention only on him.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at how you carried yourself with pride at his side. Like a true princess. Like you were made to be his companion for the rest of your life.

A smirk still played on his face as he felt how tightly you gripped his fingers. You looked at each other as you stopped in front of your bedroom door.

"Remember," he began in a whisper, leaning closer to you, "it's just us there." He smiled warmly, wanting to calm you down. You nodded and his lips immediately placed a kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before you moved away from each other and the guards opened the door.

You both entered with a confident step, your chin raised proudly. He taught you that. To pretend to be confident until it became a normal reflex. And he was so damn proud of you.

A dozen pairs of eyes immediately fell on you. You felt your stomach tighten painfully at the sight of so many people. Oberyn squeezed your hand tighter as he nodded to the nobles present.

Witnesses to the consummation of your marriage.

"Prince," the council representative nodded. "Princess," he bowed to you before stepping back against the wall, standing next to the others.

Everyone knew what you had to do now and you immediately felt bile rise in your throat.

Oberyn pulled you to one side of the bed before he let go of your hand and let the maid take care of your outfit. He stood on the other side so they could undress him too.

You stood facing each other, slowly stripped of layers of clothes and jewelry. His gaze didn't leave yours for even a second. He wouldn't let you look at the others.

He wouldn't let you see anyone but him.

Finally, the maids finished and hurriedly left the bedroom. His lustful gaze swept over your body and you wanted to wrap your arms around yourself to at least cover your naked body a little.

Not from him, but from the people who stood on the other side of the room watching your every move.

Oberyn was already half-hard when he nodded towards the bed.

"Lie down," he ordered in a voice that immediately sped up your pulse.

Slowly, on shaking legs, you knelt on the soft bed and lay down in the very middle, pressing your thighs together tightly. You stared at the ceiling, breathing quickly. He looked at you with a smirk before he climbed onto the bed too.

He knelt down in front of your bent legs and grabbed your ankle, spreading your thighs so he could slide between them.

So that no one could see what was meant only for him.

He ran his gaze over your breasts, waist and hips and right to his warm, wet piece of heaven.

He reached for the pillow. "Lift your hips," he ordered and you almost choked on air.

The fire in your belly began to take away your ability to breathe as you lifted your hips and he slid the pillow under them. His cock quivered when he saw your arousal leaking down your butt.

He hovered over you, meeting your terrified gaze. He smiled gently and his fingers gently stroked your cheek.

"You're doing great," he whispered so only you could hear. You swallowed hard and nodded. The words were unable to come out of your mouth. Having so many people around you when you were about to consummate your marriage was disorienting enough to make you forget how to think.

He leaned in, connecting your lips. Hard enough that you moaned in pain.

But it was good.

The pain allowed you to focus only on him.

His tongue dominated you in a moment. You moaned again, unable to defend yourself against him. His hands grabbed your thighs to wrap your legs around his hips. His hard cock hit your lower abdomen, making you whimper. All sounds died in his mouth as he kissed you hard.

Not letting you think about anything else.

He pulled away from you just enough to look at you. It was terrifying how quickly you fell for those eyes. Even more terrifying how much you would do for them if only he would look at you with such feelings for the rest of your life.

"It's just us," he whispered and this time you nodded more confidently. He smiled proudly then straightened up.

He grabbed his cock and slowly directed it to your wet entrance. He sighed, parting his lips as he ran his entire length between your slit. You stifled a moan and he glanced at you for a moment. He repeated the movement of his hips a few more times until he finally forced a quiet moan from you. Only then, he satisfy himself enough to position the tip at your entrance.

You immediately locked eyes as he slowly pushed his cock into you all the way to the base. He sighed loudly, colliding his hips with yours and you clenched your jaw tightly so as not to moan out loud.

A smirk appeared on his lips seeing how hard you were trying not to make any sounds. His hips slowly came to life, pulling out of you and entering again all the way. He pushed into you, not looking away from you even for a moment.

His hands slowly moved from your thighs to your hips and waist. He tightened his fingers on your skin, holding you in place as he slowly sped up his thrusts. You parted your lips, looking at him helplessly. Every movement of his cock slowly and effectively made your mind go numb. But only for him.

You tightened your hands on his wrists, throwing your head back and arching your back as he began to hit the sensitive spot in your pussy. An uncontrollable moan escaped your lips. Oberyn smacked his lips in mock indignation, a pleased smirk spreading across his lips when you were no longer able to fight the pleasure he was giving you.

He tightened his hands on your waist, making those damned slightly rounded movements with his hips that made your legs start to shake. This time was no exception.

You stared at him, panting heavily, and if you were alone now, he would probably tell you a lot of nasty things about how beautifully you took his cock. But he kept quiet, not letting others have more pleasure than they already have from watching you.

You whimpered as the pleasure between your legs grew. Oberyn felt you tighten around him, letting him know you were close. The pride he felt, in being able to bring you to orgasm with just his cock, was incredible.

He had seen many times how sensitive you were to his touch. But no one needed to know how many nights you had already spent in that bed.

He couldn't help himself the first time he was alone with you. It just happened. He buried his cock inside you like a mad man. And since then you have not spent even a single night apart.

The gods were his witness when he promised you loyalty for the rest of his life. And he knew he didn't want to sink his dick into anyone but you.

Oberyn felt you tighten around him. You gasped for air a second before the orgasm took over your body and he hung over you, kissing you hard so that all your moans disappeared in his mouth. Your song of pleasure was only available to him. That's why he immediately sped up his hips, pushing into you hard to come as quickly as possible. So as not to prolong your orgasm because you would start screaming and he really didn't want that. Your screams were only for him.

You ran out of air in your lungs when he fucked you hard, kissing even harder. And then he came with a loud growl deep inside you. He panted heavily, thrusting into you a few more times, slowly slowing down the pace.

Finally, he gave you the opportunity to breathe so you gasped for air and his hand immediately covered your mouth when you moaned loudly.

"Shhh," he whispered with a wide smile, watching as your body was only now taking in a dose of a strong orgasm.

He straightened up and glanced over his shoulder with a serious face. Sweat dripped down his chest as he ran a deadly gaze over the nobles who were trying to look like their dicks weren't getting hard from the spectacle you had just presented them.

"The marriage is consummated. Leave," he said dryly and the men seemed to wake up, obediently starting to leave your bedroom one by one.

"Let's hope the princess gives you many sons," the council chairman said politely before the door closed behind him.

Oberyn rolled his eyes in disgust. "Perverts," he muttered under his breath before looking at you again.

You were a beautiful mess. Soaking wet, panting heavily with his cock inside you. His favorite view.

"And with you, I’m not done yet," he said with a smirk before he leaned down again, attacking your lips.

[heartfullofleeches]

What would happen if fast food reader tried to quit?

"I quit!"

Fourty minutes in - that's a new record. You're in the middle of a transition with a customer when the newest in a line of new hires comes storming from the back, apron and badge on hand.

"In the single hour I've worked here I've been yelled at till my ears bled, pelted with plastic balls, saw my reflection drown itself in the toilets, and had my wallet and keys stolen."

"I'd say you had an okay start...." You pause for a moment, centered on the task at hand. ".....So will that be cash or card?"

Your coworker stares at you like you've grown antlers which probably wouldn't be the weirdest thing they've seen, but still up there in rankings.

"You're staying?!"

"I can't quit."

Pity flashes briefly in their eyes. "Being jobless is better than whatever this is, but I'm sure there's something else out there."

"You don't understand. I literally can't quit."

Your ex-coworker scoffs. "I know the job market is pretty rough these days, but come on..."

Sighing heavily, you carefully remove your apron- folding and setting at atop the counter along with your hat and badge. Glancing apologetically at the customer, you mutter.

"I quit."

Really, it only took the first syllable for what happened next, but it felt weird not to finish the sentence.

The entrace doors swing to a loud shut. Music playing over the speakers descends into static. Caution tape peals and tears from the walls as management's door pries it from position. Darkness oozes from the cracks as a body presses against the frame. A hand reaches out - pointing behind you.

"So!"

Your ex-coworker and the customer scream. You look over your shoulder at your manager's grinning face as they grip your shoulders.

"Please don't touch me."

Your manager laughs. "Oh, you and your silly jokes. So, I hear someone isn't having the best time. Your little friend is free to go, but you are a valued member of our team, Y/n. Anything we can do to make you stay?"

"No."

Your manager hands their head in sadness, immediately perking back up as they remove their touch from your shoulders. "I see..... Well! We'll all miss you dearly, but we respect your decision. Allow us to give you a portion of your severance in hand as thanks for your service."

"Please don't."

"Lambchop!"

The lights flicker as the freezer door slams into the adjacent wall. They continue to flicker with every heavy click of hooves on titled floors. The hulking figure ducks beneath menu signs, narrowly missing its curving horns getting stuck as it rises to full high. The reds of it beady eyes cast you in eerie glow as it stares - pupils shrunk as it turns. It seems to blink away tears as it snorts.

In a flash, the store mascot picks your ex-coworker by the throat and slams them to down on the counter. It reaches for its belt, sorting the sharpest cleaver of its artillery and sporting it against its prey's neck. Your coworker shrieks and flails, ceasing all movement as warm blood runs down their neck. As your eyes meet, you remain perfectly calm - brows raised in a sort of "I told you so look".

They pathetically beat at the goat demon's arm. "What the fuck.... what the fuck?!"

Your manager clicks their tongue. "I do apologize, but it's in their contract. Money is important, but we value something more here. As payment for self-termination from our team, Y/n here is to receive the beating hearts of everyone in the building in loo of breaking our own unless... they've changed their mind."

You shrug. "Long as you're still cool with my taking cash from the registers."

"Wonderful! Lambchop, could you please let the spoiled meat go? I'm afraid they won't be any good trying to posion our dear Y/n like that and I doubt they'll even make it out of the parking lot."

Your coworker scrambles for the door as soon as they're freed. Their blood, which you refuse to clean, paints the front door seconds later. Your manager sighs.

"Now that that's out of the way, please see to comforting Lambchop. You know how they get when you threaten to leave."

You look over at the mascot would bleats softly as they knock their head gently against the side of yours. You pet their horns as you throw your hat back on.

"Come on, Choppy. You can feed me fries in the breakroom."

Lambchop throws you over their shoulder and heads for the back as your manager takes their leave as well - leaving the customer alone in the main lobby.

"They... never gave back my card."

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Never Say Never| Pt1

Warnings: Cursing

Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

You and Hyunjin had always been a passionate couple, with emotions running high in both good and bad times. It was something that you had yearned for- being in a relationship as passionate as a gasoline fueled flame; but in time you had realized what you had was both a blessing and a curse.

The day had started out like any other, but a simmering tension had been building up for weeks, ready to boil over.

Simple things had been irritating you both, yet you were too afraid to communicate those things in fear of causing issues.

You had just returned home from running some errands when you noticed the look on Hyunjin's face as he stared intently at something on the screen of his phone.

"Hey, I'm back," you called out, placing your bag on the kitchen counter. You had left the dorms earlier to run out and pick up a few things you intended to use to cook the guys dinner, running to a few other places as well throughout the late morning until early evening.

Hyunjin didn't respond right away, his side turned to you as he scrolled through his phone. You sensed something was off but decided to ignore it for now, too anxious of a person to start confrontations.

"How was your day?" you asked, trying to keep the mood light.

He turned around, a frown creasing his forehead. "Did you see this?" he asked, showing you an article from Dispatch.

You glanced at the screen and sighed. "Yeah, I saw it. They're always making up rumors and releasing things. You know that." The headline read:

STRAY KIDS HYUNJIN DATING FOREIGN NON-IDOL?

Hyunjin's frustration was palpable. "It's not just rumors this time, Y/N. They have photos of us together, and they're saying you're a distraction to my career." He rushed a hand through his hair. "And this isn't the first time its happened. Remember when you took my Instagram pictures but forget to edit your reflection out of the mirror? Thankfully it was just your shoulder, but you've put us in multiple situations because of stupid mistakes you make. Like the photo in the article-" He shows his phone to you. "Everyone knew I was doing an isolated photoshoot. None of the other members were there and I said you could come but to be careful when leaving so you aren't seen at the shooting scene. But rather you aren't careful and they have a picture of you in my varsity jacket."

You sigh in frustration. "Hyunjin, they don't even know what my face looks like! I always wear a hat and glasses and a mask and clothes that cover me up. I don't see the big deal in people speculating you being in a relationship! Just ignore it and it'll die down." You turn to go put some of the groceries away but Hyunjin spoke.

"I wasn't finished Y/N. You seem to think its that easy. I'm supposed to look desirable - attainable Y/N. I have to live the life of a bachelor even if it isn't the case."

You turn at the sound of his voice. You don't know if it was the flippant tone he used while saying something so dismissive or if it was because of how fed up you were of hiding but you scoffed.

You felt a mix of anger and hurt. "So, what? Am I not supposed to be around you because you need to feed into people's delusions? Are you expecting me to sit at home and pretend like we're nothing more than just two people who have mutual feelings but can't act on them because of fanservice? All because of a tabloid article?"

He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly agitated. "It's not that simple. My career is on the line here. The fans, the company—they all have expectations."

Your temper flared. "And what about my expectations, Hyunjin? Does that not matter?"

Hyunjin's eyes flashed with frustration. "Of course it matters, but we have to be realistic. You- this could ruin everything I've worked for."

You laughed humorlessly at Hyunjin's slip up. "So...me loving you is ruining your career?" You licked your lips and then puckered them in thought. "Makes sense. considering I was the one who said yes to your advances." Your voice has a biting sarcasm to it.

"Y/N don't start. You knew what you were getting into- I warned you about dating an idol."

You threw your hands up in exasperation. "This wouldn't even be an issue if you just disclosed our relationship! How many times have we had to sneak around and hide like we're doing something wrong? And you didn't warn me about this. Matter of fact you warned me about how people would act knowing you were in a relationship. They don't know shit Hyunjin, because you have yet to tell anyone other than the members about us. And they wouldn't have found out so quickly if it wasn't for Jisung being nosy and following you."

He scoffed. "Its common sense. You've lived here long enough to know not all relationships are disclosed right away. "

"You gave me the impression that you were going to inform people! It's been a year, Hyunjin! A fucking year."

"You know it's not that simple. Disclosing our relationship could have serious repercussions. I could lose everything I've worked for."

Your voice rose in frustration. "And what about me? Do you know how it feels to be kept a secret? To constantly worry about getting caught, about being labeled as a distraction or worse? Getting doxxed? At least if you told people they could be warned of legal reprecussions! Or maybe they would feel inclined to love someone their idol loves just out of decency. Not labeling us as a couple to the public is making things worse. Its making it hard for me-"

Hyunjin took a step closer, his frustration evident. "Do you think this is easy for me? I have to think about my career, my future. It's not just about us!" His voice was sharp and there was a hint of something underlying you weren't sure you had ever heard before.

You felt tears of anger and hurt welling up. "So, what? Am I just supposed to sit here and accept that I'll always come second to your career?"

He shook his head, his voice rising. "That's not what I'm saying. But you have to understand, this is my life. This is what I've worked so hard for. I can't just throw it all away."

"But you don't realize doing all of that is just slowly throwing me away?"

The argument escalated quickly, with both of you hurling accusations and past grievances at each other. Each word was a dagger, cutting deeper and deeper. And if emotions were blood you would have been dead by now.

"You never appreciate what I sacrifice for us," you shouted, tears streaming down your face. Your throat hurt from the past few minutes of the screaming match you and Hyunjin had been in. "I'm constantly worrying, constantly hiding! And for what?!"

Hyunjin's voice was equally loud, the frustration palpable. "And you think I don't make sacrifices?! Playing damage control all the fucking time! I'm getting tired!"

The room felt suffocating, the air thick with unspoken hurts and unresolved issues. The argument had spiraled out of control, touching every sore spot in your relationship.

"You know what, Hyunjin?" you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "Maybe we need some time apart."

His face fell, shock replacing the anger. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," you replied, feeling a strange mix of relief and heartbreak. "I can't do this anymore. I don't want to fight with you-"

Hyunjin's expression hardened. "I should have never asked you out in the first place. I guess I'm finally free from that mistake."

That sentence hung in the air, a cruel echo of his frustration and regret. The final blow to an already fragile situation.

You had intended for this to spark a moment of calm, so you could both take sometime to gather your thoughts and talk things out civilly rather than pierce each other.

You hadn't expected it go anything farther than that. Not a breakup.

You felt your heart shatter, and without another word, you turned and left the apartment. Tears streamed down your face as you walked away, leaving behind the life you had built together.

The immediate aftermath was a blur. You found yourself at your best friend's place, seeking solace and trying to make sense of what had just happened. The pain was overwhelming, and every memory of Hyunjin felt like a knife to your heart. Your friend welcomed you with open arms, offering a shoulder to cry on and a place to stay, since they doubted that you'd want to be where Hyunjin knew you'd be.

They made you a cup of tea and sat with you on the couch. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shook your head, the words stuck in your throat. "Not right now."

Your best friend nodded understandingly. "Take your time. I'm here for you. Whether you want to cry or be angry. Punch things, break things. Whatever makes you feel better. But for right now I'm gonna take this." They gently took your phone from your hands, entering your password and blocking the sultry eyed boy; already sensing that this turn of events wasn't a kind one.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was left alone in dorms, staring at the space where you had stood before. Regret and anger battled within him, and he found himself replaying the argument over and over in his mind. He sat on the couch, head in his hands, wondering how things had gone so wrong. The words he had said echoed in his mind, each repetition amplifying his regret. "I should have never asked you out."

He knew he didn't mean it, but the damage was done. The love of his life had walked out the door, and he was left to face the consequences of his words.

He sat there ruminating on it, feeling his anger slowly melt away and turn into immense guilt and then a deep sadness that spurred an onslaught of tears when he heard the members arrive and Jeongin's voice ring out asking what you had made them for dinner.

Days turned into weeks and the void you left in his life grew more apparent with each passing day. He missed your laugh, your presence, the way you made everything feel better. But he also knew that the words he had said couldn't be taken back.

You, too, were struggling. The pain of the breakup was a constant companion, and you found it hard to focus on anything else. Your friends tried to comfort you, but nothing seemed to fill the emptiness you felt inside.

One evening, as you sat in your best friend's living room, staring at the boxes of the last few belongings you had yet to unpack in your new shared home. You couldn't help but think back to all the good times you and Hyunjin had shared. The way he used to make you breakfast in bed when you'd spend the night at the dorms, the late-night talks,. when you were and the spontaneous adventures you took- specifically the ones that were far from the public gaze where you didn't have to worry about hiding. It all seemed so distant now, yet so vivid.

BSF/N noticed your pensive mood and sat down beside you. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "I miss him. I don't want to but I do. Its been months shouldn't I be over him?"

"You need to move on love. There are plenty of people who can love you better than he ever did." Your best friend stated with the conviction only that of an angry bestie could hold. "He may have been good but you can find better than that coward." You nodded along, grateful for your friend's unwavering support, but still fostering that seed of pain.

Hyunjin was grappling with his own feelings of regret and longing. He often found himself staring at his phone, contemplating whether to call you or text you. Even if he knew you had more than likely blocked him. He didn't dare text, because he didn't want to see the tangible answer to his biggest worry.

So instead threw himself into his work, using his busy schedule to distract himself from the gnawing emptiness. Rehearsals, recording sessions, and performances became his refuge. Yet, every time he stepped off stage or left the studio, the loneliness crept back in causing an ineffable ache throughout his entire being.

His friends and groupmates noticed the change in him. He was more withdrawn, quieter, his usual spark dimmed.

"Hey, you okay?" Felix asked one evening as they wrapped up practice. "You've been pretty out of it lately."

Hyunjin forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired."

Felix didn't look convinced but nodded anyway. "If you ever want to talk, you know I'm here, right? You never...really told us what happened...we want to be here to support you, you know?"

"Thanks," Hyunjin muttered, his thoughts already drifting back to you.

Nights were the hardest for the both of you. Alone in the quiet darkness, memories of Hyunjin haunted you. You didn't have his voice to fall asleep to, neither did he have your soft snores. You would often wake up, reaching out for you, to see if he was still on the line. Only to find a dark screen, only occasionally lit up with the random spam notification you got throughout the night. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, and more than once, you found yourself sobbing into your pillow, wishing things had turned out differently.

Hyunjin wasn't faring any better. He would lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, replaying every argument, every mistake. The guilt and regret weighed heavily on him, making sleep elusive. He missed the sound of your voice, the feel of your hand in his, the comfort of your presence.

One night, unable to bear it any longer, Hyunjin found himself walking through the city streets, lost in thought. The bustling noise of the city was a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him. He found himself standing outside your favorite café, staring through the window at the place where you'd shared so many happy moments. The happiest one being the moment he had first saw you, smiling at the register happily as a new hire taking his order- only to see the cutest face of disgust he had ever seen at the mention of the word Americano.

It was a stupid way to fall, but wasn't love stupid?

The days dragged on, and the pain didn't lessen. It became a constant, dull ache that colored everything you did. Friends and family tried to pull you out of your shell, but nothing seemed to help. The weight of Hyunjin's words lingered, a reminder of how things had fallen apart.

One particularly rough day, you received a message from your workplace. Your performance had been slipping, and they were concerned. It was a harsh wake-up call, a reminder that life was still moving forward even if you felt stuck in place.

You tried to throw yourself into work, hoping it would distract you from the pain. But every little thing reminded you of Hyunjin. The music playing in the background, a passing comment from a colleague, even the smell of coffee—all of it brought memories of him rushing back.

Hyunjin, too, was struggling to keep up appearances. He would smile for the cameras, perform with his usual energy, but behind the scenes, he was a mess. His bandmates grew increasingly worried, their attempts to cheer him up falling flat.

The breaking point came one night after a particularly grueling performance. Hyunjin had given it his all on stage, but as soon as the lights went down, the emptiness hit him like a tidal wave. He retreated to his dressing room, shutting the door behind him.

He sank to the floor, head in his hands, and let the tears fall. The loneliness, the regret, the pain—it all came crashing down. He missed you more than words could express, but he didn't know how to make things right.

Your breaking point was the night you sat alone in your apartment - BSF/N on a business trip -staring at your phone. Watching the birthday live you would have never been allowed to watch if your roommate was home. The ache was too unbearable, and sparked your motivation to finally let go so you could be free from it.

Once you had hit 3 months without Hyunjin, the pain began to change. It didn't lessen, but it became a part of you, a background noise that you learned to live with. You went through the motions of daily life, but the joy and spark you once had were dulled. But as 3 months turned to 6 months which then turned to 9 months, it was almost a distant memory. And you were able to laugh again, the hollowness of your cheeks disappearing and becoming flushed with youth and your noticeable dimples once more.

Hyunjin's friends and bandmates continued to support him, but they could see the toll it was taking. He was a shadow of his former self, his passion dulled by the heartbreak. It was unnoticeable to the public - to them he seemed fine, they just minimized his dull eyes to exhaustion rather than depression. But to his best friends, it was as clear as day how hard he worked to push through every day.

"Hyunjin," Chan said one evening, pulling him aside. "You can't keep going like this. You need to start living again."

Hyunjin shook his head. "I can't move on...what if they come back- what if - what if they take me back?"

"You're never going to know unless you try talking to them," Chan urged. "You owe it to yourself, to both of you, to at least try. Seungmin has seen Y/N around. They've talked and he says it seems like Y/N is struggling as well. Even if you don't get back together, if you become friends again first..." Chan sighed. "Seungmin asked Y/N to unblock you. So I'd try reaching out."

But Hyunjin couldn't bring himself to reach out. The fear of making things worse, of hearing that you had moved on, was too much to bear. So, he continued to suffer in silence, the weight of his regret a constant burden.

For you, moving on felt impossible at first.

One evening an old friend was hosting a small get-together and wanted you to come. It was a chance to get out, to try and find some semblance of normalcy.

You had reluctantly agreed. The evening was a blur of faces and conversations, none of which seemed to penetrate the fog of your indifference until and old crush had sparked conversation with you...

Back in his apartment, Hyunjin stared at his phone, fingers hovering over your contact. He wanted to reach out, to apologize, to try and make things right. But the fear of rejection, of causing you more pain, held him back.

He set the phone down with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. The silence of the apartment was deafening, each minute feeling like an hour. He missed you more than words could express, but he didn't know how to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

But in a spur of confidence he sent you a message. Simply apologizing as asking if it would be okay to meet up as friends.

Because he needed you in his life in some manner. He knew he couldn't live without you. And he would be content with loving you quietly, unknowingly, putting on a mask of platonic affection if it meant you'd stay around.

Which seemed to be what he would have to do, after recieving your response.

He didn't know whether to cry tears or joy or pain.

Because while you had agreed to meet him again, to spark a new relationship with him - he immediately regretted ever harboring a hope of you loving him again.

Especially after seeing your profile in his feed for the first time in a long time, causing him to wish he hadn't reached out, wish you hadn't unblocked him- wish you weren't so kind and loving to agree to be his friend again.

Because no amount of time with you, no amount of your presence could ever be enough to even cover a fraction of the pain he felt seeing a new face in your feed.

A face that mimicked the exact face he had in your company.

Eyes that mirrored the exact sentiment and display of love he felt.

The face of one who knew the one they loved was the moon in a world full of stars.

And he knew from experience just how easy it would be for you to fall for someone who gave you that-

Considering he had been that person for you once...

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @dreammix88

[archiveofvirtue]

Sooooooooo OBSESSED with Rafe s4. Thinking Pogue reader is afraid to introduce her parents to Rafe, because she is afraid of what Rafe will think and whether he will be all arrogant or not. So her parents go to Tannyhill to have lunch with her and Rafe and her mother is impressed with the house, and her father doesn't even know what to say and starts talking about things from their reality and God. The reader wants so badly for her parents to like Rafe, but she is also so apprehensive about what Rafe will think of her parents. And I keep hammering in my head what Rafe would think and do.

MEETING YOUR PARENTS! ⸻ RAFE CAMERON

NOTES / ahh i love this idea! tysm for sharing 🎀 i think rafe would try his best to impress your parents, maybe even going a bit overboard with his charming demeanor, and saying exactly what they wanted to hear, so i hope u enjoy this little drabble!

CONTENT / rafe cameron x fem!reader, bf!rafe, fluffy, rafe being the perfect boyfriend, lovey dovey type shit

You paced nervously in your bedroom, running your fingers through your hair as you glanced at your reflection in the mirror. Your heart was racing, and your mind was filled with a hundred anxious thoughts.

You had been dating Rafe for a few months now, and while things between you two had been great, the thought of introducing him to your parents filled you with dread.

The Camerons had a reputation—powerful, wealthy, and a bit presumptuous. The last thing you wanted was for Rafe to come across arrogant and full of himself, like he could be from time to time, and clash with your modest, down-to-earth family.

"What if he says something rude?" You muttered to yourself. "Or worse, what if he acts like he's better than them?"

You sighed and grabbed your phone, your fingers hovering over Rafe's contact before you hit send on the message, asking if he was still okay with meeting your parents.

Almost immediately, your phone buzzed with a response.

Rafey: Of course, baby. I'm actually looking forward to it. How about this, I invite them to Tannyhill for lunch? It'll be perfect.

You stared at your screen, surprised. You hadn't expected him to be so enthusiastic. Yet your first instinct was to panic—Tannyhill was a mansion, the epitome of the Cameron wealth. Your parents would be so out of their element. But before you could talk yourself out of it, you agreed, trusting Rafe's judgment for the moment.

The day of the lunch arrived, and your nerves were in overdrive. You could barely focus on getting ready, your mind playing out all the potential disasters. What if your parents felt overwhelmed by the grandeur of Tannyhill? What if they felt judged? And what if Rafe didn't like them?

While Rafe also had a thousand things rushing through his head, a rare hint of nerves creeping into his usually confident demeanor. He wasn't used to feeling this way—after all, he was a Cameron.

His family's name carried weight in the Outer Banks, whether people liked it or not. But today was different. Today, he was meeting your parents, and despite his outward calm, he knew how important this was to you.

And he knew how nervous you were the last few days, afraid of what your parents might think of him or what if they didn't like him. Rafe didn't want that. He cared about you, more than he'd ever admit out loud, and the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable.

That's why he'd come up with the idea to host your parents for lunch at Tannyhill. It was his home, a place where he felt in control, and if it would help put you at ease, he'd do whatever it took.

When you arrived with your parents, Rafe was outside waiting, standing tall with his hands in his pockets. Your mom gasped in awe. Your dad on the other hand was quieter, his expression more difficult to read. Rafe knew that feeling—trying to find your footing when you're surrounded by things that scream money and privilege. But he didn't let that faze him. Instead, he smiled, genuinely happy to see them.

"Well, it's certainly... big," your mom said with a polite smile, her eyes wandering over the sprawling estate to which you could just shyly smile before approaching Rafe.

"Beautiful place, huh?" Rafe greeted them as as he walked toward them, slipping his arm around your waist and a genuine smile on his face. He kissed you on the cheek, hoping it might calm your nerves.

"I'm really glad you all could make it. I've been looking forward to this."

Your heart skipped a beat, pleasantly surprised at how at ease he seemed. No arrogance, no flashy behavior—just Rafe, being himself.

He guided your parents into the house, doing his best to make the atmosphere feel casual, even though you were surrounded by the grandeur of Tannyhill. As the four of you sat down for lunch, he could feel your tension next to him. He knew you were desperate for your parents to like him, to see past the Cameron name and see who he really was. And honestly, he wanted the same thing.

Your mom was still clearly impressed by the house and couldn't help but comment on the elegant architecture and the lush gardens outside. Your dad still being his usual analytical self, began to warm up slowly and instead of retreating, like you feared he would, he filled the silence with casual talk, touching on everything from fishing to local news to the weather.

Rafe wasn't sure if it was nerves or just the quiet nature of the man, but he respected it. He could tell that the man was trying to find common ground, and he appreciated the effort.

To your immense relief, Rafe engaged in the conversation effortlessly, showing interest in your dad's stories and even sharing a few of his own. He didn't flaunt his wealth or status—he was present, attentive, and respectful. He was just... your boyfriend, and he wanted your parents to see that.

As the meal progressed, you began to relax, though you still couldn't shake the lingering worry about whether Rafe liked your parents. You wanted so badly for everything to go well, for them to see the side of him you saw—the side that was caring and thoughtful, not the side everyone in the Outer Banks assumed existed.

Your mom was laughing, your dad still engaged in conversation, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the evening. It was a good sign, but Rafe wasn't the kind to get cocky about it. He knew this meeting was important, and he needed to do right by you.

After dessert, Rafe stood and cleared his throat, looking directly at your parents. "I just want to say, I'm really glad I got the chance to meet both of you. Y/n means the world to me, and it's important to me that her family feels comfortable with me, too."

Your mom smiled warmly, reaching across the table to give your hand a squeeze. The reassurance making you sigh in relief. "We're happy to meet you, Rafe. You've been a wonderful host today."

Your dad nodded, and you could see the approval in his eyes. It was enough to calm the last of your anxieties. And It was definitely a sign for Rafe to know that they were okay with him—and that was enough.

As your parents said their goodbyes to your boyfriend and already walked ahead, Rafe gently pulled you aside, his hand resting on your lower back. "How do you think it went?" he asked, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

"I think it went well... better than I expected, really.." you admitted, finally allowing yourself to smile. "Thank you for being so great with them."

Rafe leaned in, kissing your forehead. "I told you it would be fine. I care about you, y/n. I wanted your parents to see that, too."

You wrapped your arms around him, your earlier anxiety replaced with something softer, more content and feeling grateful for how everything had turned out. Maybe you'd worried too much after all.

And Rafe knew he'd done something right as you smiled brightly. For once, it wasn't about being a Cameron or living up to some image. It was just about making you happy, and that, more than anything, made the day special.

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @nuemanfilms @starkeysprincess @starkeydolly @drewsarms @rafescokewhore @rafecameroninterlude @t6urusmoon @doll-face222 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

[scoobydoodean]

what is your opinion on people calling dean a heavy misogynist? i don’t agree personally but i feel like you could put my thoughts into better words

First, I have to chuckle a little at "heavy misogynist". Apparently, some people have begun to realize their fave is also guilty of misogyny crimes therefore they focus on making sure all of us know Sam is a light misogynist and Dean is a heavy misogynist. I just find that amusing.

This is a broad topic in a long show, so I won't endeavor to address every conceivable incidence of misogyny in the show I can think of. Instead, I'm going to create a few headings, at least one of which I think most criticism falls under.

Misogyny through the writing team

How Sam's misogyny gets a pass

Purity culture wank and Dean performing for Sam

How Dean actually treats women

Misogyny Through The Writing Team

First, Supernatural in of itself has issues with misogyny—as in, the writers of the show (including female writers) have issues with misogyny which they are happy to put on display semi-frequently. The show started in 2005, during a period of time where casual sexism was absolutely rampant on TV and no one thought anything about it. Female celebrities were regularly mocked and dragged on cable television in a way men simply weren't. They were called bitches and skanks and whores, and even "progressive" voices were inundated with casual misogyny and a fixation on purity culture (that largely applied to women only). Quite simply, I think fandom tends to be far too generous toward the writers, assuming certain things were "flaws" the writers intentionally wrote for the characters.

Put another way, there are some criticisms I prefer to level at the writing team rather than the characters, because what is written plainly reflects their ignorance in the real world rather than any intent to give Sam or Dean or any other character meaningful flaws—much less outright terrible ones that greatly harm their image. I'll give a few examples:

2.17 "Heart" makes me very uncomfortable as I sit here in 2024 and observe how Sam and Madison's romance develops. Me feeling that way does not mean the authorial intent of 2007 Sera Gamble was that I think to myself, "Man Sam comes off as uncomfortably rapey here." Hopelessly bad with women, perhaps—but not creepy.

In season 2, the writers begin to develop a running “joke” that Sam is afraid of not just clowns but also little people. The latter “joke” is (wisely) dropped fairly quickly. I have never criticized Sam for being afraid of little people, and I never will. It is readily apparent to me that this running "joke" reflects the ignorance of the writing team rather than an intent to give Sam meaningful or interesting flaws. Their intent was to use little people as the butt of a joke. I personally find this "joke" distasteful, and the idea of trying to take that and somehow "dunk" on Sam for the bigotry of the writers is more distasteful to me.

This is also how I feel about the running "joke" of a porn magazine and website (BAB) that solely features Asian women, that is put on display on multiple occasions during the show—first in 2.15 "Tall Tales", where the context is Gabriel infecting Sam's laptop with a virus from the website and making him believe Dean is responsible. BAB continues to make "Easter Egg" appearances in the show afterward. While often associated with Dean by fandom, the writers clearly think of BAB as a general, "funny" (it isn't), running gag with no more depth than "haha men like porn funny". An issue is stolen by a sentient teddy bear in 4.08 "Wishful Thinking". An issue is owned by the teenager who swapped bodies with Sam in 5.12 "Swap Meat". The Men of Letters also collected a considerable number of issues (8.17). I simply do not believe the writers thought for a single moment about BAB being a grossly racist gag. They most certainly did not write it as an intentional criticism of Dean from that perspective. It reflects nothing but their ignorance and racism here in the real world, and absolutely SHOULD be criticized from that REAL WORLD impact.

How Sam's misogyny largely gets a pass

One of the things I have not been able to stop noticing on this rewatch is Sam's issues with misogyny, and how often Sam's misogyny comes out in conflicts with Dean... starting from the very first episode of the show. Pretty much any time you get anything that feels like it might be a misogynist Dean or horn dog Dean moment... Sam either just has or is about to follow that up with some misogyny of his own.

In 1.01, right after entering Sam's apartment and meeting Jess, Dean mentions the Smurfs on Jess's shirt. We think to ourselves "Okay. A little misogynist... a little horn-dog Dean." Sam is happy to 1-Up that in two ways. First, Jess voices her intentions to go get dressed. Dean dismisses this, but while doing so, makes it clear he intends to leave the room with Sam, as he'd like to have a private conversation with Sam anyway. Sam objects, walking over to Jess and putting an arm around her, demanding Dean say whatever he needs to say right then and there. Maybe this would feel supportive if Jess wasn't in her underwear and hadn't just made it clear that now that the panic over a possible break-in is over, she'd really like to not be in her underwear in front of a stranger. But nope. By god she needs to stand there so Sam can prove a point about misogynist Dean! Second, Sam immediately (and I think quite erroneously) jumps to imply Dean is trying to cut Jess out of the conversation because she's... a woman? Or... something? He makes a big show of moving over Jess and standing beside her, saying anything Dean has to say, he can say in front of Jess. However, the moment Sam actually understands that Dean is here because John is missing on a hunting trip, he dismisses Jess to speak to Dean alone... because he's lying to her. By painting Dean erroneously with this "The men are talking" bullshit that had nothing to do with anything, Sam sets himself up to be viewed as a misogynist by his own framing of the situation and what it means to leave Jess out of a discussion. He also reveals his own alleged principles as a performative illusion. Despite being his intended life partner, Sam never intends to tell the woman he loves about his past as a hunter (he makes this clear later on the bridge). However, I think because Sam's actions usually co-occur with what gets called out more directly or more immediately recognized as misogyny from Dean (should have gotten him for the Smurf's comment, Sam!) Sam's misogyny often flies under the radar... and he's really... pretty bad.

I spoke here at length about how Sam tends to look down on women who interact with Dean (often before meeting them). There is absolutely an intersection with purity culture here and there's discussion in that thread about that as well, and whether this is a "2000s writers" issue or intentionally written flaws.

In 1.06, Sam cuts Dean off before Dean can accept an offered beer from Rebecca, but then as soon as Sam needs Rebecca out of the room, Sam asks her to not just bring them those beers... but also fix them sandwiches. Rebecca says, "What do you think this is, Hooters?" and Dean mumbles, "I wish" and we somehow lose sight of the fact that Sam literally just asked a woman to make him sandwiches which is possibly the number one misogynist man trope. Sam vaguely suggests Dean is a misogynist in 1.19 for nudging Sam to go on a date with Sarah Blake and possibly get information on the case, because that would be "using" her, but Sam wants to "use" Meg Masters in 1.22 and he wants to "use" Ruby to get what he wants, and when he said getting information from women was "Dean's job", he was also showing he was perfectly willing to use Dean and Sarah—he just doesn't want to get his hands dirty. It also comes to light in 1.19 that this is more about Sam's belief that he has to protect women from him, and Sarah herself ends up calling Sam antiquated for it.

I mentioned before that Sam doesn't plan to ever tell Jess who he is, and he makes the same plans with Amelia. Dean, meanwhile, confides in Cassie (it's what leads to their breakup) as well as Lisa.

I also have to mention... one of the funniest things I see deancrit samgirls in particular dig at time after time after time is Dean calling women "bitches". Never mind that Sam also calls women like Ruby and Bela bitches and calls a woman a bitch in front of Madison. Apparently none of these occurrences count because... *looks at notes* reasons. "Bitch" only counts as misogyny when it's Dean saying it. Also, let's not mention that Sam exclusively uses the word "bitch" to refer to women, while Dean also calls men and creatures bitches at different points so it isn't a gender specific insult for him.

Dean is definitely the "heavy" misogynist here... right? (I guess Sam is a "tall" misogynist instead).

Purity culture wank and Dean performing for Sam

Dean is commonly treated in fandom as if he's some kind of sex pest, and quite blatantly... he isn't one. Women almost always proposition Dean first (thejabberwock has sets on this here and here), but him asking people out also isn't inherently creepy in any way? Co-occurring with Sam's purity culture inundated judgements, we often see fandom's own as well, where Dean is some kind of sex pest because he... likes women? Or... because he has sex with consenting women who also want to have sex with him? Sometimes it's giving purity culture wank, sometimes it's given big radfem energy... but regardless, I sometimes see people talk about Dean like him so much as making eye contact with a woman is a violent sexual threat, and that's just laughable—as is denying the agency and autonomy of consenting women in general.

Even though it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, I'll also add that Dean... doesn't even actually have sex with the frequency that people talk about it? Dean has sex with Cassie—who was a long term partner of his in 1.13. He has sex with an actress in 2.18, and with Doublemint twins in 3.01. He has sex with a waitress 4.05. He plans to have sex with someone in 3.04, but turns her down when he realizes she's a prostitute who's working. This happens again in 10.07. I'm on season 4 of my rewatch and haven't been formally keeping up... but Dean is not actually having a lot of sex? We get implications he's been out partying a few times, and can maybe infer he scored, but we don't actually know.

I'm not a huge fan of performing Dean, in the sense that I think over the years I have seen it wildly overstated far too many times. But I do think Dean sometimes plays a character for Sam especially. Dean tells us this himself in 2.03 "Bloodlust" when confiding in Gordon. He never says so directly when it comes to the sexy sex guy doing sex persona, but his actions reveal him. One can think of plenty of examples of Dean saying horny stuff about women to Sam... but what about his actions?

How Dean actually treats women

Finally, there's how Dean actually treats women... and one would be very hard pressed to prove to me that Dean is sexist toward the women in his life. He's been close friends with multiple women and worked with women on hunts on multiple occasions and never once batted an eye. Jo in 2.06 is sometimes floated as an example, but it's actually discussed within the episode. Dean makes it very clear that he thinks women can do the job just fine. What he has a problem with is Jo's lack of experience and her romanticization of the job (especially during a period where Dean has fallen deeply out of love with the job himself). Everything we see as the series progresses supports Dean's assertion as truth. He's very good friends with Charlie, Jody, and Donna and doesn't go around excluding them on hunts while favoring men. That is not a thing that happens. While he initially tries to talk Claire out of the life (as he does everybody—this is not unique to women—see Adam for example) when she decides to hunt, he supports her regardless. There is nothing uniquely overprotective about how Dean treats women who hunt. End of. Dean has no illusions about traditional gender roles or any of that nonsense, jumping to clean dishes after dinner at Jody's and cooking breakfast for Lisa and Ben. (Our knowledge of Dean and the chores he does for his family already tell us this—but regardless). Even Demon Dean, an entity with no love for anyone and close to zero principles, targeted men who abuse and threaten women, and when Crowley ordered him to kill Lester's wife to fulfill the terms of Lester's demon deal, Demon Dean instead became so deeply annoyed with Lester's hypocrisy (he cheated on his wife first) and his assertion that it's different when men cheat, that he killed him and smiled while doing it.

So anyway, nope—I don't think Dean is a "heavy" misogynist.

[siixkiing]

@qicixian​ { ☯ }

I JUST HAVE A LAUGHING FACE MACAQUE GOD

“Soon it’s going to be concaved as well.”

[linghxr]

Advice I would give my past self about studying Chinese

Recently I've been reflecting on my Chinese learning journey and how far I've come. If I could go back in time, these are 10 things I would tell my past self. A few are specific to Chinese, but most can apply to any language

It will get so much easier to learn new characters. I remember feeling overwhelmed because learning new characters was a painful process. Now when I encounter a new character, I can remember it with relative ease—it’s just a new combination of familiar components.

Don't feel bad about having uneven development in different skills. My listening and reading are significantly stronger than my speaking and writing. It’s super common and nothing to be ashamed of.

The best way to get over being too embarrassed to speak is to experience some embarrassment and realize it’s not a big deal. I used to be so afraid of making mistakes that I would avoid speaking in class. It was only by being forced to speak that I got over it. I'm much better for it!

It’s impossible to learn everything, and time is limited. You have to prioritize. You probably don’t need to know how to say “pawnshop” in Chinese, and trying to jam your head full of 100 words you saw once won’t work. They won’t stick.

It will actually be harder to read pinyin than to read characters at some point. When I helped a friend with a script for her Chinese class, I really struggled because she had written it entirely in pinyin. I had to write out the characters to read without stumbling! I know characters are daunting for beginners, but trust me, you will get used to them.

If you haven’t practiced or learned something, of course you won’t be good at it. I remember feeling so frustrated trying to navigate Chinese websites for the first time. In retrospect, obviously, I was going to struggle with something completely new to me!

If something isn’t sticking, move on. Why waste time on a word that’s not clicking when you could be learning five new ones? It will only result in unnecessary frustration. So unless you need to know it for your class or a proficiency test, drop it and move on.

Don’t beat yourself up when you have trouble understanding music, literature, different accents, etc. These can be challenging even in your native language. Of course you’re going to struggle more in a new language.

It's worth it to pay attention to things like stroke order and tones from the start so you don't form bad habits. Don’t stress about get it perfect, but it’s easier to do it right the first time than to have to correct your bad habits in the future.

Instead of feeling overwhelmed by all that you don’t know, learn how to express yourself with what you do know. It’s truly its own skill that requires practice. After all, in life you can’t always stop and pull out a dictionary.

I started learning Chinese a really long time ago, but I became more serious about it in 2018, so 5 1/2 years ago. I'm very proud of how far I've come, but I still have a long way to go! I look forward to revisiting this post in another couple of years 😊

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act IV, Scene I: The Unspoken Words)

You’re determined to avoid talking to Spencer, but no matter how hard you try to shut him out, he’s just as stubborn as you.

Part warning: Inaccuracies of workplace relationship policy slash agreement, angst Words: 3.7k A/n: even in the middle of angst I manage to find humor in all of this😭 I'm just gonna accept that this is my writing style

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“I’m afraid I can’t change any statements under the agreement,” Hotch said, his arms crossed loosely over his desk. He seemed more weary than confrontational, as if he’d already had a long morning before this conversation even began. You stood in front of him, trying not to show your frustration after you rushed into his office the moment you arrived, but this was not the response you were expecting.

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean you can’t change it?”

“It’s policy,” your boss explained curtly. “To change the status of your relationship, both parties need to come to me together and agree on the new terms.”

“What kind of rule is that?” You glanced around the room, scanning the shelves and corners as if searching for an answer to this bureaucratic nightmare in the shadows. You found none, just the sterile walls reflecting back at you. You began to pace. “Can’t there be any exceptions?”

“Unless there’s an issue of harassment or coercion, the policy still stands.” He leaned back against his chair. “Is there anything like that going on?”

Your frown deepened, and you stopped to face him. “No.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do.”

And here you thought you could end this charade once and for all.

“This is ridiculous, you don’t need both of us here. Reid would agree with me anyway,” you stated assertively, trying to sound confident. You then noticed the way his gaze shifted slightly, avoiding direct eye contact. “What?”

Hotch paused, his shoulders slumping just a fraction. “He came to see me this morning.”

Your stomach dropped. “He did? What did he say?”

“He didn't go into details,” he explained, carefully choosing his words. “But he mentioned you might come to talk to me and suggested that things were... complicated between you two.”

You leaned against the nearest wall, suddenly feeling drained. “Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. "What else did he say?"

“He seemed genuinely worried,” Hotch said. “He thought it might be better if I could convince you to think things through before making any decision."

You let out an exasperated sigh. You couldn't believe he went through a third person to get his point across. Technically, you did avoid his calls last night—how could you not when you needed a piece of mind?—but you didn’t expect him to involve your boss like this. “So you’re saying he's worried about me being too impulsive?” You crossed your arms defensively. “Isn’t it my decision to make, not his?”

Hotch’s expression softened slightly, the crease on his forehead smoothing out as he spoke. “It is your decision, but it also needs to be a mutual one. Unless both of you are on the same page, my hands are tied.”

The only hands you wanted to tie were Spencer's. The thought of dragging him into this office was growing more appealing by the second. "If I manage to get him to agree, will you then make the changes?"

He nodded slowly. “If you come to me together and agree that it’s what you both want, then yes, I can finalize that."

That was how you found yourself searching for someone you didn’t want to confront. Your feet dragged you out of Hotch’s office once you promised him that you would bring Spencer along with you by the end of the day, but to do so, you had to find him first. He wasn’t at his desk, he wasn’t in the conference room, and he wasn’t even making his usual mid-morning coffee. You decided to walk up to Derek and ask his whereabouts.

“You’re looking for your own boyfriend?” Derek teased, the corner of his lips twitching into a sly grin. He was sitting in his chair, casually leaning back as he glanced up from his paperwork.

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

“If you can call trying-to-break-up-with-him-but-he-refuses-to acknowledge-it trouble, then yes, this paradise isn’t looking so great.”

He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing you with an intensity that made you feel like he was trying to read your mind, or worse, profile you, which was the last thing you needed right now. “You’re really breaking up with him?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons.” When he gave you a skeptical look, you shrugged firmly. “I do.”

“You sure you’re not overreacting over a small fight or something?”

You made a face. “This is not the way you should respond to someone who’s going through a breakup,” you said, trying to ease the sudden tension in your shoulders with sarcasm, which seemed forced but necessary. It was the only way to keep you sane. “Do you not have any shame?”

"You don't even look that upset."

“Well, I am,” you retorted. “I'm heartbroken and frustrated, and as someone who sees you as an older brother, this is the part where you’re supposed to beat him up or something.”

His features softened as he noticed the way you shifted from one foot to another, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. The hard lines of his face relaxed. He slowly stood up and walked around the desk, opening his arms. You met him halfway, placing your head on his shoulder, your arms hanging limply at your sides as he wrapped his toned arms around you.

“Is that what you want? You want me to beat him up for you?”

The mental image of Derek trying to throw a fist at Spencer flashed through your mind and you couldn’t stop the small laughter falling from your lips. “No. He’ll probably snap like a twig if you try to lay a finger on him.”

“The kid’s been doing his training lately,” Derek noted. “He might actually surprise you.”

You slightly pulled away, giving him a mock glare. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

A crinkle formed at the corners of his eyes as he grinned. "I'm always on your side." He draped an arm over your shoulder and guided you out of the bullpen. "Come on, I think Garcia brought in her special treat bag today."

Your ears perked up. "Cookies?"

Derek chuckled, leading you through the maze of desks and toward Penelope's office. "Cookies, brownies, and who knows what else. She’s been on a baking spree."

You could use some sugar. You could also use a distraction, and the more you thought about it, the more your tense mood lifted slightly. But the moment you stepped into Penelope's lair, you stopped dead in your tracks, eyes widening as you saw Spencer sitting next to her with a cookie in his hands. You instinctively pointed a finger toward him.

"You!" The word escaped your lips before you could stop yourself. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Spencer glanced up at your sudden outburst, the cookie halfway to his mouth. "Eating a cookie?"

You barely held back a scoff as you strode into the room, crossing your arms over your chest. "What did you tell Hotch?"

Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What are you talking about?"

Penelope's eyes darted between the two of you. "What's going on? Did I miss something?"

Ignoring her concerned and slightly confused look, you fixed your gaze on the man who had been causing you so much frustration. "I went to Hotch and he told me you spoke to him this morning." You took a step closer. "What did you say?"

Spencer's eyes widened slightly, and he carefully placed the cookie down on a paper plate resting at the edge of Penelope's cluttered desk. "I told him that things between us are complicated and that we might need more time before making any changes to our agreement.”

Penelope swiveled in her chair, the furniture creaking under her sudden movement. "Wait, are you two breaking up or something?"

Derek shifted uncomfortably behind you, gesturing toward the door. "Come on, baby girl, I think we should leave."

"Shh! I wanna hear this."

You barely noticed their exchange behind you, your eyes too fixated on Spencer. At this point, you were beyond worrying about who heard your conversation, you just wanted to put an end to everything—the lie, the pretense, the unresolved feelings. You were too exhausted to navigate these complicated emotions, too drained to keep pretending everything was fine. The desire to protect yourself outweighed any concern for an audience.

"Reid," you called sharply, emphasizing his last name as a clear sign of the boundary you were creating between you. The slight wince on his face confirmed that you struck a nerve. "There's no need to think this through anymore, you know I want to end things."

He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I know."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to make sure you don't make a mistake you'll regret."

You shot a sharp glance at him. "The only mistake was pretending this—" you paused, searching for the right words. Fake relationship? The biggest lie of your life? "—this... situation could work out in the first place."

Spencer’s gaze flickered with hurt, a shadow crossing his features before he quickly masked it. “So you’ve decided it’s all a mistake? Including last night?”

“I decided nothing on a whim,” you replied. “I’ve had plenty of second thoughts about us, and they all lead to the same place. Nowhere.”

“You can’t say that. We should at least—”

You cut him off sharply. “You just don’t get it, do you? There’s no ‘we’ in this. There never has been, and I don’t understand why you’re so determined to force one.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath, his shoulders lifting slightly as he tried to steady his emotions. “No, there is an ‘us’, you just don’t want to admit it, and I’m trying to fix that.”

You finally let out a scoff, the sound jarring in the small, tight space. “By what, running to Hotch? Why did you even think that was necessary?”

"Because it was the only way to get you to talk!" He exclaimed, his voice rising a pitch higher. “You shut me out, and if I have to go through everyone to get you to open up, then I will."

A sense of déjà vu washed over you as you stared at him. It was like being thrown back to the beginning of your fallout and you were replaying the same frustrating pattern, where every attempt to communicate only spiraled into another argument. Most of these fights had been petty, but now, the stakes felt impossibly high.

You suddenly became acutely aware of everything around you—the close proximity between you both, the way the room seemed to shrink as the tension mounted, and how your friends were still watching, silent witnesses to your confrontation. The realization of how inappropriate it was to raise your voice in the office, of how public this argument had become, made you want to take a step back.

“We have nothing more to discuss,” you stated firmly, trying to create some space between you.

He took a step forward. “We both know that's not true."

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. The room seemed to hold its breath afterwards, the only sound came from the soft hum of computers in the background. Derek shifted uneasily, glancing at Penelope before breaking the silence with a low, “Let’s go, Garcia, let’s give them some privacy.”

But before either of them could leave, you shot them a glance. “No. Stay.” Your eyes met Spencer’s again, holding his gaze as you added, “He’s about to leave anyway.”

His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign of hesitation, or doubt, or anything that might indicate you didn’t mean what you said. But when he found none, he finally took a step back, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. I’ll go. But know this—” He paused, looking directly into your eyes. “I’m not giving up on you. Not yet.”

Those words were meant to offer some form of reassurance, showing just how determined he was to fix things, but instead, they left you feeling more unsettled. When he closed the door behind him, you let out a long, weary sigh as your eyes met with Penelope’s. She lifted her plate of sweet treats. “Cookies?”

You shook your head, too drained to muster a response. Her eyes softened, and she stood up, crossing the room in a few quick steps.

“Oh, honey,” she murmured, pulling you into a tight, comforting hug. Her warmth enveloped you, and a lump formed in your throat. You pressed onto her shoulders as you desperately stopped your tears from falling.

You weren’t surprised with Spencer’s relentless attempts to talk to you, it was the fact that you managed to hold back your tears for two whole weeks that truly shocked you. Maybe it was the sudden case that helped you stay distracted. It wasn’t anything major—just a stalking case in town that seemed straightforward to solve, but it was still enough to keep you occupied.

During those two weeks, Spencer tried everything to get your attention. At first, it was through messages. Short, persistent texts that you easily ignored. Then he tried calling, but you always let it go to voicemail, deleting the messages without listening to them. He even showed up at your desk several times, only for you to walk away, finding some lame excuse to be anywhere but there.

There were moments when you’d see him waiting by the coffee machine, hoping to catch you for a casual conversation, but you’d turn on your heel and take the long way around to avoid him. During meetings, when you were gathered around the round table, you made sure to sit as far away from him as possible, refusing to meet his gaze, your eyes fixed on your notes instead.

The hardest part of it all was seeing the confusion and hurt in his eyes when he thought you weren't looking, the way he seemed to deflate just a little more with each failed attempt. But you couldn’t let yourself give in, you couldn’t allow the walls you’d built to crumble. You were too afraid of what might happen if you did.

Penelope had noticed, of course. She’d given you looks of concern, her eyes silently asking questions you weren’t ready to answer. Derek had made a few comments, trying to lighten the mood, but even he seemed to sense the depth of the rift between you and Spencer. So you avoided them altogether, throwing yourself into interviews and paperwork while working late into the night and starting early in the morning.

By the time the case wrapped up, you were exhausted, and all you wanted was some time to yourself. It was finally the weekend, and all you could think about was snuggling under a blanket with a mountain of junk food, binge-watching something mindless. But somehow, the universe seemed intent on testing you, because just as you were settling into your couch, you heard a knock on your door.

You could already tell who was waiting on the other side. You could feel it in the way your heart raced and then settled into a tense rhythm. For a moment, you debated pretending you weren’t home, but you knew Spencer well enough to understand he wouldn’t leave that easily.

A knock, then another, and you found yourself dragging your feet toward the door. You weren’t surprised when you peered through the peephole and saw him standing there. You took in his appearance, noticing how his hair had grown a bit longer, falling over his brows in a disheveled way. You also observed the faint shadow of stubble on his jawline. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell you he hadn’t been taking care of himself.

You pulled away, trying to keep your silence. But he knocked again, and then you heard his voice, muffled but clear through the door.

“I know you’re in there.”

To open? Or not to open?

A part of you wanted to swing the door open, to let him in and finally have the conversation that had been hanging over your head for weeks. Maybe this was the chance to finally clear the air, to put everything out in the open and deal with it once and for all. But another part of you was afraid. The cowardly part of you wanted to hide, to avoid the confrontation.

You didn't want to give in to hope only to be disappointed again.

“Y/N, please open the door.”

You rested your forehead against the door. Maybe he would leave if you stayed quiet long enough. Maybe—

“Fine, if you're not going to open it, at least hear me out.”

You closed your eyes. Why was he so stubborn? Why couldn’t he just leave? Why did he have to make this so hard when all you wanted was a moment of peace?

“Please,” he continued. “Just give me a few minutes. If you still want me to leave after that, I will.”

His voice was soft and pleading, carrying a sense of quiet desperation that made it hard to ignore. You fought the urge to open the door immediately, instead taking a few more moments to gather your thoughts. After a long pause, you finally whispered, “You have two minutes.”

You could hear the relief in his breath from the other side. "I can do two minutes," he murmured. The silence that followed was heavy, and you leaned back against the door, feeling its cool surface against your spine. Then, after what felt like an eternity, you heard his voice again.

“I’m sorry.”

You inhaled a sharp breath.

“It seems a little too late, doesn't it?” You could almost sense him flinch on the other side. “I’ve been thinking a lot, about everything—about us. I know saying sorry won’t undo the past, but I mean it. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

You listened, arms wrapped tightly around your body. It was as if the physical pressure was the only way to hold yourself together. The silence on your part seemed to spur him on.

“I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about…” he paused, his voice faltering before he cleared his throat. “About what happened that night, how everything just fell apart. I’ve replayed it over and over in my head and you have no idea how I wish I could go back and do things differently.”

You did too. God, you wished you had reacted more calmly that day. You sighed quietly as he continued, “If I could take it all back, believe me, I would. I just…” He trailed off, the question hanging in the air, almost too painful to finish. "I just don’t understand why you don’t want to talk to me now."

And then you felt it—the familiar sting of tears threatening to break through. You took a deep breath, refusing to let them fall when you had been holding yourself together for so long.

"I want to apologize to you in person, but I can’t… I can’t do that if you won’t even look at me.”

His words struck you like a physical blow, and the emotions you'd been trying so hard to suppress began to bubble to the surface. You felt a tightness in your chest, like a weight pressing down, making it hard for you to breathe. And to make it all worse, the memory of that night flashed through your mind. You could still hear the hurtful words, the unbearable silence that followed, the way everything had spiraled out of control so quickly.

You struggled to steady yourself, taking in slow, measured breaths. Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale, exhale. You repeated the motion until you finally found your voice.

“It’s just—I can’t…” The words caught in your throat, and you felt the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. You blinked them away rapidly. “I can’t… talk about what happened without… without breaking down and… and every time I—I think about it, it makes me want to cry.”

It made you feel guilty. It made you feel ashamed, because deep down, you knew you had yourself to blame for how that night unraveled, for the things left unsaid, for the way you both had hurt each other.

“I don’t care if you cry,” he whispered, although you could still hear his voice clearly. "I'll even hold you if you let me, just please, open the door."

You slightly pulled away, your hand hovering over the handle. "Your two minutes is up."

There was a pause, and you could almost hear him holding his breath on the other side, waiting, hoping, before he asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

You felt the cool metal beneath your fingers as you grasped the handle. Did you really want him to go? You always believed that protecting yourself was the safest choice. You had spent so much time building up these walls, convincing yourself that distance was the only way to survive the pain. But as his words lingered in the air, you weren't so sure anymore.

You took a deep breath, the kind that felt like it stretched your lungs to their limit, as if your chest might crack open from the pressure. And then, almost against your own will, you found yourself unlocking the door, slowly pulling it open.

You kept your head down, your eyes first landing on his worn-out Converse. Your gaze traveled along his long legs, then to his chest, taking in the way his jacket looked a little oversized on his frame. You fixed your eyes across the very soft stubble on his jawline, a detail you hadn’t been close enough to notice for too long. And then finally, you met his eyes, and that was when you crumbled.

You wished you were the type of person who could get mad without crying, but you were exactly the opposite. You hated how your emotions took hold of you when all you wanted was to scream at him, to let out the frustration in sharp words instead of broken sobs. And as much as you forced yourself to be strong, the tears came anyway, blurring your vision and spilling over before you could stop them.

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, and without thinking, he reached out, closing the distance between you. His hands hovered for a moment, unsure, before gently cupping your jaw. “No, no,” he murmured. “You’re supposed to cry after we talk.”

Now you just wanted to punch him. But you stopped yourself from resorting to any violence, albeit half-jokingly in your mind. Instead, you let his thumb gently wipe away your tears, you let him draw you into his arms, enveloping you in a warmth that felt hauntingly familiar. It felt the same as it had on his bed, the same as that quiet morning, and as deeply heart-wrenching on that unforgettable night.

You gripped his shirt tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers as you finally let yourself fall into the past.

[galedekarios]

hearing about gale from tara is always such a treat because she's known him for so, so long, ever since he was just a boy and has watched him grow into who he is now:

Player: Excruciatingly awkward. On my side, at least. Tara the Tressym: Don't be too hard on yourself, sir. You've been like that all your life.

Player: It's very unsettling how you can tell what I've been up to just by looking at me... Tara the Tressym: Tressyms are exceptionally intuitive. And also, you wear your emotions like a very garish cravat.

Tara the Tressym: If that's all, then what comes after is for you to decide, Mr Dekarios. Think well on all that's happened, and stay true to that heart of yours. It's a good one.

which also sort of ties into this:

Player: I'd never want to lose you, Tara. I'll return the Crown to Mystra. Tara the Tressym: There's a good humanoid. You had me scared for a moment here. But you're wise - and wiser all the time. 

Player: That's just my boyish charm. Tara the Tressym: Boyish charm and knees that creak like rusted hinges! Quite the combination.

Player: I'm honestly not sure. But don't worry - it's nothing I can't handle. Tara the Tressym: Very tough.

Player: Must be the beard. Tara the Tressym: Don't be silly. What is it really?

she's absolutely not averse to teasing him. however, it's never cruel and always light-hearted, just like she's not afraid to call him out on evading questions or making him reflect on the choices he takes if she does disagree with him. it really speaks of how long they have been at each other's side.

Tara the Tressym: Mr Dekarios. Gale. You are the finest mind - the finest wizard - I have ever had the pleasure to know. If anyone can beat this thing, it is you. When you tried to control the Weave - when it all went, pardon my language, belly up - I was terrified. Scared you'd be hurt. Scared Mystra would punish you for your transgression. But do you know what never crossed my mind? That you wouldn't figure a way out of it. My clever friend never leaves a knot knotted. This parasite is one more knot, so get to tugging threads. And - Mr Dekarios - please. The beard. I'd cut it down myself if I could hold a razor.

so from tara's pov, gale's always been awkward and obvious with his emotions.

she's convinced he has a genuinely good heart, one that she hopes he'll stay true to.

tara thinks he's wise, and growing wiser (condition: gale rejects to take the crown for himself).

she also thinks he's clever and brilliant.

[st4rbe0m]

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ DANGEROUSLY YOURS - SJY

✺ now playing - cigarettes out the window by tv girl

✺ pairing - spy!jake x president's daughter!reader

✺ contents - angst, themes of betrayal, political talk, guns, use of feminine terms

✺ wc - 0.8K

✺ a/n - i'm ngl i was really really disappointed with how much my yeonjun fic flopped considering it was 12k words T-T

masterlist

"If I betray you, I betray myself. If I betray him, I betray my country."

The barrel of the gun is staring straight down Jake’s head. There’s sweat beading on his forehead as he looks where you’re standing, and the slight tremor in your careful hand doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He’s gulping in fear - not for his life, but your own. There was no telling who could’ve called the cops by now, with all the shouting and yelling that had ensued upon your revelation. 

You look absolutely wonderful tonight. Of course you did, is there any event where the President’s daughter didn’t look gorgeous. Floor length black gown with gold detailing on the trimming, and a pearlescent silver chain delicately balanced across your collarbones, with the view Jake was facing currently, he was going to die a happy man it seemed. The only thing he wanted to change, if he could, was the heavy tears pooling in your eyes, and the absolute look of betrayal on your face. If his superiors were to see him right now, they'd reprimand him straight. The best spy of his country, the best of his team and the best agent the law enforcement could procure. The best of his best was on his knees in front of you currently, with no weapons to defend him. Only the raw, unforgiving truth. 

“Explain yourself then.” Your voice is shaky, and what was supposed to sound more ironclad sounded like a broken, hopeful curiosity.  Your hands are still shaking and the finger delicately perched atop the trigger is lingering like a broken echo stuck in a limbo. 

“Y/N, I offer you three things right now. My heart, my country, and my life.”

“Stop! Stop with your lies! God, even now you’re cruel? You know how I fell for you, yet you couldn’t find the honor in you to remove yourself from charting these dangerous waters with me, for this mission? Where’s your compassion, Jake? Your dignity?”

“I love you, Y/N. I do. Deeper than the betrayal that I was raised on, and stronger than my traitorous blood.” He’s holding a steely determination in his eyes, more focused than he’s ever been on any other mission before. This wasn’t simply just a classified case on a document anymore. This was about the thin line between life and death. 

“You don’t get it, do you Jake? From the first hour that I’ve met you, I’ve been irrevocably yours. And how am I to ever return to a point before that? How can I trust you?”

“Because I love you!”, he finally explodes in a single, shallow breath of exclamation. The last wish of a dying man.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t take your life right now!”, you explode in anger. Screaming like a madwoman, your heart hurts as you absorb in the vision of the man you love on his knees before you, pleading guilty for his betrayal.

“You may as well take my heart, Y/N. It’s already full of you.” He’s breathing heavily as you clutch your gun tighter. Your guards were to appear at any moment. It’s a starry night outside, twinkling lights littered across an inky black sky. The marble is cold beneath his knees. You’re sobbing even harder now. The lights from the chandelier behind his head reflect the glistening moisture on your cheeks. 

“I love you, Y/N. And I know you love me. I could disappear right now, but I’ll always find moonlit nights strangely empty, because when I’ll call your name, Y/N, I’ll receive no answer.” 

The breaking of the mahogany doors, loudly clattering open, made you both shake violently in surprise. There stood your guards, armed and ready to save you. Badges of honor laid across their lapels, the honor of the country that represented everything Jake stood against. “Don’t be afraid madam! We’re here now!”, one of them calls out to you as they swiftly make their way across the lavish ballroom to where the pair of you stood. You were still shaking, but this time Jake noticed a maniacal look in your eyes, searching and scattering around.

It was almost like the scene was slowed down. The tremble in your hands stilled as you raised your arms up, pointing with excellent marksmanship to the where the glass connected the chandelier behind his head to the ceiling. The chandelier, which with the loud bang of the bullet, made a cacophonous, crystal crashing noise against the marble floor, just a few paces ahead of your guards. Jake’s understanding of the situation makes him bolt up to his feet, and with almost automatic movement, he’s grabbing your wrist and running away towards the exit with you. 

“My country is very dear to me.”

“Dearer than I?”

“No, not dearer than you.”

[just-a-ghost00]

A short letter from them <3

Warning : this reading could be triggering.

Group 1

Cards - Surrender, Trust, The Universe, Soul work, Ancestors, Reflect, Page of cups, King of cups, 3 of pentacles, 5 of swords, Black Numen, The Hierophant

I see myself in you. It is troubling as much as it is freeing. I don't love myself enough to admit that I love you. I want to be a better person before I can come up to you.I hate that I have to be away from you. There is nothing I want more than to be close to you but duty calls. I have my own karma to resolve, my own issues and challenges to deal with. I understand now that the Universe let us meet for a reason. I realize that you were a lesson for me to learn. That all good things in life ask for dedication and faith. And I was not ready for you. I had dedication but I didn't have faith. Now I see clearly what I have to do. You awakened something in me I didn't know I had. Now I want to do more, live more, feel more. I want to shine brighter than before. I want to be a person you can be proud of. My ultimate goal is to propose to you. There will be a long way ahead before I can even dream of holding your hand again. In the meantime, I will work harder, better, faster, stronger. I'm sure you know that song too. Let us connect through music. When we're apart, I hope the songs we liked to listen to will keep you company and remind you of me, just as they will remind me of you. I'll hold you dear to my heart. Can you please do the same? ♡︎

Reader's insights : My alarm started ringing as I was shuffling your cards. I was hesitating on keeping the Reflect card and that's when the alarm chimed in so I took that as a confimation that yes this person is a reflection of you. The signs of Taurus, Scorpio, Leo and Aquarius could be significant. I get strong Twin flame vibes from this group. For some of you I pick up on cultural differences. A part of the reasons why this person is scared to come forward is because they're afraid of their family's opinion regarding your connection. They think that they wouldn't be too keen on having you in the family because you are from a different background. But your person doesn't care about your differences, in fact it's what drew them in and it's why they love you. They also were amazed at how similar you could be dispite your differences. I'm definitely picking up on long distance relationships. You aren't in contact with them at the moment or the contact is minimal. This person is going through some existential crisis. Meeting you put everything into perspective. You rocked their world.

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

Group 2

Cards - Reflect, Ascension, Withdraw, Play, Power (horizontal), get creative, Wheel of fortune, 7 of wands, 10 of pentacles, ace of swords, 2 of pentacles, 2 of swords

I feel like I constantly have to fight for your attention. You're always busy, always on the go. You always have something to do, something to say to someone that can't wait another day. So many excuses. Do I even matter? Like, do you even care about us? I know you're my soulmate and honestly it frustrates me because I feel like I have to go through so many struggles to just have one happy moment with you, without other people getting their nose in our business. It's always my friend said this, my family did that. What about me? What about what I said or did? What about my feelings? Honestly, do you even want me in your life? Because if you don't I have no problem with that. However I have a problem with you wasting my time and hurting me. I can be pretty open minded I just need people to be honest and mature enough to voice out what's wrong for them. You feel so distant and I don't know what to do anymore with this. To tell you the truth, I'm considering leaving and entertaining other connections because at this point why even bother? When I'm in the mood for more and ready to keep things going you just retreat to your shell and put up a wall between us. At least tell me what's wrong. If I've done something that hurt you I want to own up to it and apologize properly. I can't read your mind.

Reader's insights : I kept being distracted as I shuffled your cards. People might be interfering in this connection to deter you from being with that person if this is a romantic connection. This person thinks that you're seeing someone else and/or playing with them. Before even reading for you and writing what this person wanted to say, I felt a lot of frustration bubbling up in my chest. The cards feel quickly so this person has a lot on their plate. I'm sorry if this reading is triggering to some of you. You can't seem to see eye to eye with this person. There are serious communication issues in this group because I feel like you may be in the same energy as this person. You don't know what they want either, you feel like they keep running away from you. There's a lot of confusion between the two of you as to where this is going and what each other's intentions are. You don't trust one another, it's a battle of egos that seems like it's never ending.

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

Group 3

Cards - 9 of pentacles, The Magician, The Star, Page of cups, Temperance, 8 of pentacles, Speak Truth, Movement, Play, The Magi, The Creator, Versatility

Ever since we parted ways, I feel like my life is finally making sense. I feel better in my shoes, better in my skin. And I honestly think it's better this way. My career took a positive turn. I am more abundant. I feel like I'm in alignment with my destiny. I feel like life is finally smiling to me and I can finally work toward what I always wanted. I think going our separate ways was the best thing that could happen to us. Because I know deep down I would have choked being next to you. Being away from you allows me to express my true self. To explore and figure out who I am. To indulge in pleasures I didn't know existed, to give life to dreams I didn't know I had. I feel like I'm rebirthing. I'm finally in control of my life and my destiny. It took meeting you to realize I was not happy and for that I am grateful. I know this isn't what you would like to hear. But for once in my life I want to stop pleasing people and start pleasing myself. I will now give myself the love I deserve and needed. And I hope you can respect that. I am now moving on and flying on my own. Thank you for the memories.

Reader's insights : I felt quite nervous doing this reading, my body was tense. There were remanent energies from group 2 because I kept thinking of their last song The Negative. You might want to check group 2 if you hesitated between group 3 and group 2. It was like this person hesitated saying the things they said because they thought you'd take it personally and they're aware of the wrongs it would cause. But they had to get it off their chest. The signs of Gemini, Aquarius, Sagittarius may be significant.