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arcadia-of-pluto · 12 hours

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Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that.

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you.

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any.

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him.

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly.

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?”

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you.

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

“No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.”

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.”

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips.

Gosh, he was so cute.

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?”

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.”

Zayne

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician.

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago.

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man.

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him.

So, what did you decide to do?

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well.

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed.

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right.

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all.

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes.

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.”

Rafayel

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay.

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”.

He was also so easy to fluster.

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect.

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting.

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image.

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback.

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here.

“Huh?”

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up and makes his way toward you.

“Again.”

Now, it's your turn to be confused.

“Raf, what–”

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes.

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red.

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy.

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back.

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet.

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life.

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day.

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days.

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle.

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic.

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner.

“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...”

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better.

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind.

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right?

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.”

Okay, you got this.

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?”

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle.

“Sure, kitten.”

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle.

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove.

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.”

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

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felibrary · 21 hours

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╭──╯GOOD DAYS | even as the snow falls atop his hair and the colorful fireworks launch in the distance, sylus can't help but keep his eyes off of you.

pairing: sylus x reader (gender neutral) | content & warnings: just some toothrotting fluff, bit of banter and bicker, reader is implied to be shorter than sylus, possibly ooc sylus | wordcount: 1.1k ; ficlet

author's note: this is based off his nightplume card with my own little add-ons lolll (also i don't even play lad anymore..so if you see any mischaracterizations here..yeah..)

A/N: Loll finally posted again and it's lad haha, enjoy!!

"sylus, i'm cold."

your boyfriend raises his brow and sighs, having the audacity to act disappointed. "i've warned you about the cold weather. should've listened to me about wearing a scarf," he smirks while you on the other hand only huff, frown deepening.

"well, i didn't know it'd be this cold," you shudder as the snowflakes meet your nape and slowly dissolve.

you're pretty sure you look absolutely ridiculous right now — with a runny nose and a hoarse voice complaining about something you're at fault for, to sylus who simply enjoys watching your dilemma and chuckles in amusement.

there aren’t often moments when sylus feels at ease, always on the lookout if something happens to you when he isn’t around. but he knows that if he stays by your side there won’t ever be something bad happening to you — he makes sure of that and instead decides to enjoy these simple but meaningful moments with you.

so maybe these little moments make him pay less attention to his surroundings than usual, oblivious to the snow that gets stuck in his hair and you can’t help but cackle a bit. “what?” he asks curiously. “there’s snow in your hair,” you point out. sylus’ gaze drifts up for a split-second before smiling and lowering his head. “help me,” his voice is soft as he requests you to help him.

even through hands covered in mittens, you can feel how soft sylus’ hair is, you play with his hair for a bit, rubbing your hand over his head before finally brushing the remaining snow out. “be careful, even a crow can turn into a dove in this weather,” you smile. “a crow? what a funny thing of you to say,” sylus returns your smile before turning his head away from you to look at the fireworks and so do you.

the fireworks are pretty, magnificent even. they vary in size, motive, and color but despite all of that each of them is unique and beautiful in its own way, making it unable to rip your eyes off them..besides maybe one exception.

not even a moment later, the exception in question turns to you, expectant ruby eyes staring down at you before swaying his gaze down to the snow-covered railing, smiling. "want me to draw you?" the turned-up collar of his stuffed leather jacket rises and falls along his neck as he exhales.

you follow his gaze and scoff. "sylus, what are you up to," you mutter under your breath. he doesn't respond, instead his gloved hand meets the metal railing before slowly tracing circles in the snow, and soon after you're able to recognize what he drew — a cat.

“seriously? a cat? i thought i’d at least be something more intimidating like a tiger,” you complain in faux offense. sylus only hums “do you know what you look like right now?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond before tracing lines onto the cat’s forehead.

"like a tiger that meows when it opens its mouth," he says, voice laced with sarcasm. upon seeing it, you can't help but crack a smile. "you're so stupid," you express with a shake of your head. "says the stubborn one who refused to dress warmly," he huffs before turning away from you again.

those ruby eyes full of danger and a lust for adventure soften upon seeing the shower of fireworks being cast in the sky. a mixture of bright red and blue colors paints the sky and casts a light shadow over sylus’ figure.

you playfully roll your eyes at him, grinning as you scoop some of the snow off the railing. “sylus, you still have snow in your hair, want me to get it out for you?” you offer, a sweet smile gracing your lips. “what, you want to deepen our relationship? but if you insist,” he smirks before lowering his head.

you reach forward and unlike sylus’ expectation your hand lands on his cheek, making his eyes widen in surprise while you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the giggle you’ve been meaning to let out ever since you got the idea. sylus shoots you a boyish smile before flicking his fingers against your forehead which catches you off guard. “unprompted benevolence wasn't out of the kindness of your heart,”

before you’re able to process what’s happening, sylus pulls you into a tight embrace, strong arms snaking around your waist and holding you closely to his chest. "sylus let me go, i can't see the fireworks" you muffle into his jacket. "mhm, but weren't you the one who was complaining about the cold just now?” he says absentmindedly and you gaze up at him as he turns his head to the fireworks.

his eyes find yours again, ruby eyes locking with yours as he gives you a mirthful smile. i'd rather not let you be exposed to the cold again" you glare at him which seems to amuse him even more because his next move is to pull you closer than before. (which you didn’t even know was possible from how close the two of you were already.)

luckily he lets you go soon after and you breathe in relief and observe him curiously as he pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket — a scarf. you gasp in surprise. “you had a scarf with you all along?” you ask him dumbfoundedly, not sure whether to be grateful for having something to warm your neck which isn’t sylus’ biceps, or if you should feel betrayed that he hid it from you.

“i’ve had a hunch that you’d forget yours in the rush, always so forgetful.” he smiles softly before wrapping the scarf around your neck, twice around your neck, and once around your.. eyes? “sylus, i swear to god.” even with your eyes covered beneath the wool scarf you can practically see sylus smirking to himself. “fine, fine,” he mutters, smiling before removing the scarf from your eyes.

the scarf sits nicely around your neck and not to mention it’s very comfortable and keeps you warm. you exchange glances with sylus before turning your attention to the fireworks again.

from beneath you, on the riverbank, a bunch of people are lighting up their fireworks before watching after them as they fly into the distance. your eyes follow the fireworks as they light up the night sky and their reflections shimmer on the surface of the river. “the fireworks are so pretty, aren’t they?” you turn to sylus, expecting him to watch the fireworks too, instead you find his ruby eyes fixated on yours.

“yeah, they really are.”

TAGS: @azullumi we're just gonna ignore the fact that this is dedicated to you and your birthday you oldie gramps of a geezer which was one week ago.....but anyway although i don't want to repeat what i said in my birthday letter (which you haven't read yet LOL) i want to tell you that in such a short period of time you've grown to a person I've learned to love so easily as if it were naturally - which it is. you're so loveable that it makes me wonder how anyone could ever hold a grudge towards you? you're the sweetest soul on earth and i wish i would've been there for your birthday to congratulate you in person but well beggars can't be choosers. azul, you're my soulmate and i appreciate everything about you and everything that you've done for me. i love how clear and easy our communication is, i love our little playful banters that other people find questionable and i love that people associate the two of us together, even when it means mistaking us for one another, which just proves how close we even appear to other people. you're the embodiment of lovely and loveable to me. i love you to death azul and once again happy birthday! <3

#felis staple of books ⋆·˚ ༘ *#sylus x reader #lads sylus x reader #love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x you #sylus fluff #lads x you #l&ds x you #sylus x you #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads fluff #l&ds fluff

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iheartz4starzz · 3 days

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NEVER THERE 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

husband!chuuya x f.reader

SYNOPSIS: you only get to see your husband, chuuya, once a day, which is late at night when you're about to go to sleep. the next morning, you always wake up to him gone.

TW: slight angst, but dw, it'll be fluff at the end, might be a few grammar mistakes

NOTES: fun fact: a lot of these oneshots are based on my c.ai chats <3

Btw I never specified if the reader was taller or shorter than Chuuya, so you can just imagine it urself. ^^

You heard the door unlock, revealing a redhead mafioso, who peaked his head into the room. He let out a sigh and stepped through the door, running a hand through his hair as he set his hat onto his nightstand.

"Doll, did you wait f'me again?" Chuuya asked and crossed his arms.

There you were, sitting on your guys shared bed with your phone in hand. You were playing mobile games while waiting for your beloved to return home after a long days worth of work.

"Yeah. It doesn't feel the same when you're not here next to me when I sleep." You replied, averting your gaze with a slight pout.

Chuuya let out another sigh, but couldn't help but chuckle and smile warmly at how cute his wife was. He quickly showered and changed into his bedtime clothes before getting into the sheets next to you.

Resting your cheek on your husbands toned chest, you let out a breath of contentment before closing your eyes. The sound of his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his arms was soothing for you, which was perfect to help you sleep.

"How was work today?" You asked with a yawn, trying to keep yourself awake.

"Fine. I had to fix a smuggling deal that one of my stupid subordinates messed up." Chuuya sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

You laughed, then snuggling closer to the redhead. You let out another yawn, to which Chuuya noticed and ran his fingers through you (h/c) hair. "You're tired, doll. Go to sleep now."

You shook your head in protest, blinking your eyes. "Nuh-uh! I want to spend more time with you, so I need to stay awake."

Chuuya shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. "Sleep now."

"But I-"

"No buts."

You sighed, closing your eyes to let your sleepiness consume you. Before you could final succumb to your slumber, you looked up at Chuuya with tired eyes.

"Will you be here next to me when I wake up?"

Chuuya could only bite the inside of his cheek and shake his head. "No doll, I'm sorry. I have work tomorrow."

You nodded and closed your eyes. "I love you, Chuuya."

"I love you to, (Name)."

The next morning, you woke up per usual to Chuuya not next to you. You let out a sigh of disappointment and stretched, then moving your feet to over the edge of the bed. You unplugged your phone from your charger and noticed a note and a red rose sitting on your nighstand.

You took the letter and read it, smiling in the end. The letter said:

'Dear (Name),

I'm sorry I can't be there to greet you in the morning. I promise I'll make it up to you next time with a bunch of presents, love, and kisses.

I love you.

Your husband, Chuuya.'

Though the letter was sweet, you couldn't help but frown in disappointment. That's what he would always say when you brought up the fact that he was never there for you. Pushing the thoughts down, you got up from bed and headed to your office to start working.

Usually you stayed home, due to the fact you were a stay-at-home wife, and partially of the fact you also worked from home. It was only those one times you went outside if you wanted to go shopping.

One work was finished, you went to the kitchen to make dinner and clean up around the penthouse. Once again, you ate dinner alone and left leftovers for Chuuya to eat once he got home. You then got ready for bed and got under the covers, bringing out your phone and began to wait till Chuuya came home.

Another hour passed, and Chuuya was still not home. You let out a sigh and laid sprawled out on the bed, starfish style. Bringing your arm up into the air, you stared at the hand with a ring wrapped around your ring finger. You chewed the inside of your cheek and rested that hand on your chest. You yearned for Chuuya's love, and missed him dearly.

Just then, the door to the bedroom unlocked, revealing the redhead who walked inside with a tired expression.

"Hey, Doll. I'm back." He greeted you with a smile.

"Welcome home." You replied and sat up.

After Chuuya was done with getting ready for bed, he got under the covers with you. Chuuya let out a sigh and wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"I missed you." Chuuya told you.

You stayed quiet for a moment before responding. "I missed you to. But, you're not going to be here next to me when I wake up..."

Chuuya frowned. He felt a twinge of guilt in his heart and began to rub your back apologetically. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, (Name). You know how my boss is."

Suddenly, Chuuya heard sniffling. He watched you sit up from his arms and bury your face into your hands, beginning to cry. Chuuya felt his heart shatter to see you sobbing because of him. Chuuya sat up quickly and rubbed your back.

"(Name)?" He mumbled quietly, his soft voice laced with concern and worry. "Hey, what's wrong, baby?"

"I-I'm sorry. It's just that— I miss you so much, Chuuya. I only see you one time a day because you always come late from work." You sobbed and wiped your tears. "But every time I stare at my ring, I have to keep reminding myself that I have a husband! But it feels like I don't, because you're never here!"

Chuuya didn't know how to reply, and only felt his guilt increase from hearing your pain and yearn for his love. Chuuya cupped your cheek, turning you face towards him. "(Name), I—"

"Am I pushing you away? Am I to clingy? Is that why you're spending so much time at work instead of at home with me? Your wife?" You interrupted Chuuya, sniffling again. "Is your job really more important than your wife? Do you still love me?"

Chuuya's eyes widened when he heard that last question. He quickly brought you into a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck. "No, I still love you! And you're not pushing me away, (Name)—"

Chuuya took a deep breath before continuing. "You're not pushing me away, love. I would never allow that to happen, because you're the most important woman in my life. I love you far to much to ever let you go. It's just... it's my job."

"But wouldn't Mori understand that you have a wife at home? You're not just some mindless pawn for his use! You're your own person, Chuuya!" You argued, tears streaming down your cheeks. "N-No, I'm sorry. I understand that you're doing this for the both of us. I understand that you're working really hard to have a roof over our heads..."

"(N-Name), don't just brush if off like that," Chuuya stammered, cupping both of your cheeks. He let out a sigh before pressing a kiss against your lips. "I'll see what I can do, alright? Just... please don't cry. I can't bare to see you like this."

You nodded and laid back down in bed with Chuuya, wrapped in his arms. You sniffled again and wiped the left tears on your cheeks, your eyes puffy and red. "I'm sorry, Chuuya. I just don't want you to overwork yourself."

"I know, Doll. I understand where your pain is coming from, I really want to do something about it." Chuuya replied and brought your closer to him, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "I love you, (Name). Don't think to much about it, okay?"

You nodded once more. "I love you to, Chuuya."

The next morning, you stirred from your sleep, blinking your eyes awake and looked to your side. Frowning to see that Chuuya wasn't there, you got up and ran a hand over your face.

'Don't be such a bad wife, (Name). Chuuya is doing this for both you and him. At least appreciate what he's doing.' You told yourself and got up from bed, making your way to the kitchen to make breakfast.

As soon as you left the bedroom, the smell of eggs and bacon wafted through the air, tingling your taste buds. You breathed in the smell, licking your lips as you approached the kitchen. You peaked around the corner, your eyes widening to see Chuuya standing at the stove with a apron that said 'Kiss The Cook.'

"Chuuya?"

Chuuya jolted and turned around, quickly turning off the stove and smiled at you warmly. "Morning, Doll."

You teared up, smiling as you ran towards Chuuya, crushing in a hug. "Agh! W-Why are you crying?" Chuuya frantically asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

"N-No, it's happy tears, Chuuya! Happy tears!" You repeated, laughing at his misconception.

Chuuya smiled and cupped your cheeks, giving you a morning kiss. "You're such a crybaby." He teased and flicked your forehead.

You whined and held your forehead, pouting as you looked up at Chuuya. The two of you laughed it off in the end. Chuuya wrapped his arms around your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck. The two of you connected lips, the kiss strong, passionate, yet gentle at the same time.

After a few moments, the couple broke the kiss and smiled at each other. You rested your forehead against Chuuya's, eyes closed as the two of your soaked in the moment.

"I love you, Chuuya." You whispered.

"I love you to, (Name)." He replied, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Soo... Kiss the Cook, eh?"

"Shut up!"

ENDING NOTE: i didn't want to make readers wife role seem to clingy, or to unappreciative. i hope i didn't make anybody upset with reader, tho.

luv u all! <3

-mai

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd oneshot #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #bsd chuuya nakahara #bungo stray dogs #chuuya is husband material 🥰

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aliceintheworld · 2 days

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PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

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Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

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lailawinchesterr · 3 days

Text

remedy (vii) — sam winchester

> prev, masterlist

summary: somethings just aren't meant to be, and you can't force them— tags: underage!reader, 22-year-old!sam, med student!fem!reader, cursing, angst, 6k chapter (yeah, it needs a warning), daddy issues I think.

You don’t text back for two days, and he ignores you. All of a sudden, it’s ‘we need to talk’. No way, man; an idiot can see this is a breakup text if they look at it for a second too long. And you’re not stupid enough to end something that means this much to you over the phone.

If he decides you’re boring, or you’re not it, or whatever, he can say it to your face—

Your phone is ringing.

Worst case scenario, he calls you names, best case, he says it’s not you; it’s him. Maybe switch them around?

Maybe you should change your number.

Maybe you should answer. You answer. “Sam, hey.”

“Hey, you okay? Were you asleep?” Maybe if you say yes, he’ll feel stupid breaking up with you while you are half asleep.

“No.” You’ve never been good at lying to him. “Do you need anything?”

“Sweetheart, what’s with the silent treatment?” oh, great, now he wants to talk about it? It’s been two days, he didn’t bother then— God, what is happening to you! You’re acting like such a bitch, right now, like all the times you’ve yelled at your friends to stop being so annoying with their boyfriends, and now you’re doing the same.

“Sorry, uh— yeah, no, I guess I was just being silly because you didn’t call when you said you would.” Your voice is so timid, you wouldn’t believe it if someone said it was you. Sam has responsibilities, such as finding his dad and taking care of Dean, and you are being petty. Fuck this whole thing, this isn't you, why are you suddenly changing around him (without him here).

“It's not silly. I just had something to take care of that night and forgot to tell you.”

“Why'd you pretend? Why not just tell me the next day?”

“I thought you forgot, I didn't wanna remind you; besides, it was one call, I didn't think you’d care.” Where in your exterior of panic did he get ‘wouldn't care’ from? Unlike Sam's tendency to just ooze nonchalance, always seeming uniquely unbothered by this entire thing, he wasn't like this when he was next to you, in fact, he used to care more about your feelings than you did.

Is this what distance is doing to the both of you? Ruining Sam's gentleness and consideration? The things you liked about him from the start? Love about him? God, it's like your parents all over again. You love your father, of course you do, he’s an incredible dad, but he was disappointing as a husband, and you fucking swore that you’d never marry someone like him, even if you’re as physically far away from marriage as possible with Sam, it doesn't mean you’re wrong for thinking of your future with him.

“Baby?”

“Right. Sorry. It isn't a problem, you're right.” You never were as strong as your mother.

“Okay, but I'll text you next time. Promise.” You nod, noticing your nose burning and your vision getting blurry for a second before you breathe. This is not worth crying over. You've always given your entire being into every relationship and lost yourself halfway through, you told Jess that this was different, that Sam was different. But Sam is just like every guy you've ever liked, he's normal, caring, and sure, a little different in the sense that he's not a dick to other people and doesn't curse at you because of how you feel– okay so he's very different, but you aren't. You’re trying so hard to hold yourself back from thinking of those three words, from being all in for once, but you can’t help it, and you’re fucking mad at Jess for being right. Sam lost you. He went to a different state and is staying there for weeks, and it's okay with him. It should be the same way it should be for you, but it isn't. It was never going to be.

Your feelings were never going to be like his, and deep down, you knew that, Jess knew that. And you let it happen.

Fuck you’re crying. Fuck he’s calling out your name. “Sam, I'll call you back, okay?” And you hang up to his protests.

He didn’t cause this, you did by being so fucking careless with the most crucial thing in your life– your heart. And men will always be men. They'll forget to call, or they'll move to another country or state for work, they'll have girl friends that they hang around, and you will never be able to deal with it.

It's terrifying to think about because you spent your senior year of high school making damn sure something like this would never happen, you didn't breathe near a boy, and you worked your ass off both in school and out of it to have achievements you can add to your transcript. Your first two years in Stanford have been spent right here in your apartment (or the first one was in the dorm), away from anyone who could ruin your progress– then Jess introduced you to him, and so what? She's introduced you to anyone she's ever hung out with. But you knew Sam was different. You knew everything about him was different the second you were both in the car alone, and you let all your nerves go so that you could sit in the passenger's seat and talk to him.

That should've been enough to scare you the hell off. He’s older and more experienced, and you promised you wouldn’t do this– you threw it all out the window the second he asked for your number.

He’s calling, your phone's ringing, and you know it's unfair to him, God, you know it is, but how unfair is it to whatever’s left of you if you answer?

After an extensive crying session, you pick yourself off your bed and get on the desk for some serious study time. All your best studying has been done with your eyes bloodshot red and your heart broken. It doesn't take a few hours to finish and revise your assignments, and then you make flashcards for the chapter you (daydreamed during) missed last week. It's the most productive you've been this year. You're not complaining— until you are because Jess is barging through the door, and she doesn't yell, ‘honey, I'm home’, which can only mean she spoke to Sam. She knocks on your door twice before slamming it open with a frown.

“No, because what the actual fuck do you mean you're not answering any of our calls?” Oh, she's worried. You shrug, pointing to the phone that you shut off and abandoned on your bed a few feet away. “How many times have I told you to stop shutting your phone off if you're not going to keep your laptop open? What if your parents call and you don't answer? They can't exactly just knock on your door.”

“I texted them before I shut it off.” She lets out an exasperated breath, walking over to you.

“What about me? Why didn't you text me?”

“I forgot, Jess, I'm sorry, it's no big—” Before you can even finish your sentence, you're hit with an insane case of deja vu, except it's more like your brain stops working. You genuinely did forget. It wasn't like you'd hurt your best friend on purpose, but she doesn't look like she forgives you or, quite frankly, even cares. And you're repeating his words right back at her.

“No big deal? Seriously, what has gotten into you? First, you don't listen to me about Sam– you actually fight me about it, then you ruin it! Sam is racking his brain thinking of what he did wrong, and all he came up with is that he forgot to call once. Tell me you are not being bitch to Sam because he goddman forgot!”

You're not surprised by Jess saying it any more than you were scared when you did. You already knew it was irrational; you're overreacting and rounding up all the bad things happening since you've known him to justify it. But you're not stupid, you know Sam doesn't deserve it, you just– honestly, you didn't think he'd call Jess or care that much.

“I'll call and apologize—”

“No, God, no, this isn't what this is about,” she sighs, her voice quieter and pensive as she sits on your bed. You turn the chair around to face her. “Babe, talk to me. What is going on with you?”

“You were right.” You can't cry again, and you're not in front of Jess about something you're ruining yourself. “It's too much, I just can't do it, Jess. You were right—”

“Come on, babe, no, you fought for him, you convinced me he's right for you, what is this about?”

“I just can't be okay with it, every time something happens, I just— I'm scared it'll all go to shit, so I can't focus on anything, but the second I closed my phone after I hung up on him, I felt like— it was closure. I'm not scared anymore. I can focus and see everything clearly when I'm not…”

“When you're not in love with him.” You don't meet her eyes, instead, they pan to the floor. Yeah. You were scared to say it, but Jess certainly isn't. She won't shy away from the truth for your benefit; maybe that’s why talking things out with her always works for you.

“Jess, you were so right, and I'm sorry I didn't—”

“Hey, don't be stupid, no. I didn't mean it— I never wanted you to do this. Sam is good for you, and you are great for him. Me and Gen, we talk about the two of you all the damn time and how incredible Sam treats you, how thankful and accommodating you are to him. I didn't know that that's what you were thinking.”

“I fell in love with him in a month. I can't, I just can't be like this again. I can't keep doing this and–” Yeah, you can feel your tears deep in your chest, and it doesn't matter what Jess hears or sees, you just can't keep going like this, “— I keep losing myself, and I accommodate to him and I want to please him and I shut up when I'm sad because what if he doesn't want to hear it—”

“You know he–”

“I don't care! I don't care how good of a person he is, unless he pulls it out of me, I don't… God, I'm so high maintenance, and he's too comfortin– Jess, I'm done. I can't keep…” She frowns, and you notice her red cheeks as she opens her arms for you. You oblige, moving off your chair and next to her on the bed, your head on her chest while her arms wrap around you. It never hurts less, and the fact it never fucking might scares you more than you thought was possible.

You both fall asleep like that on your bed, your head on her chest and her embrace warming you, it makes you curse yourself for waking up at three. You were in a deep sleep, too. Thankfully, she still is, so you grab your phone and head out of your room, turning off the lights behind you to– oh fucking SHIT.

“Sam!” You scream, a hand on your racing chest. You're already wincing at the thought of waking Jess up, but you don't hear anything except a change of rhythm in her snores. You’re panting as you take a step back from him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We finished early,” He lies, his eyes on yours. He’s a good liar, you have to admit, even if you can see right through it. He takes a step closer, examines you, and places his hands on your shoulders as he does before pulling you in close. “God, I’ve missed you.”

That's— what on earth is happening right now? “Were you crying?” He furrows his eyebrows, fingers wiping under your eyes even though your tears dried hours ago.

“Yeah, but that— Sam, what are you doing here?” You repeat, still starstruck. You like surprises when you know they’re coming. Like not knowing where you're going for dinner or not knowing what type of party someone is planning for your birthday, but this? It's very not cool. Extremely terrifying.

“I just told you we finished the case early.”

“You— what about your dad?”

“Dad left us a clue, well, he left Dean something. We went to find him in Blackwater Ridge, and he left something for Dean there about where to find him next. It's a couple of states over, and when I saw that this isn't a two-week kind of thing, I told Dean to bring me back here.”

“Sam it's been five days—”

“I know. I know, but you— trust, right? Technically, I made it back before the end of the week, so even that promise I kept…” and it's a weak attempt to lighten the situation with his hands still lighting your body on fire. You're not angry with Sam, of course you aren't, you never expected that you'd be with him every second of every day, you even knew that in less than a month you'd have to go back home for the summer vacation— it was never Sam's fault to begin with. It's yours. Your heart, your stupid, childish feelings, because despite being emotionally intelligent like almost everyone you've ever known has told you, and a damn hard worker to get into med school a year early, your feelings are where you draw the line.

“Honey, were you crying?” He should probably stash the monikers away for the time being if you're going to be able to do this.

“No— I mean, yes but it's fine I had Jess here.” You don't mean to sound bitter but it seems as if he took it that way because he frowns and nods slowly in a manner that pains you. He doesnt deserve this. He doesnt, hes been so fucking good to you, he cares about you, he—

He’ll never love you the way you love him. If you break it off now it's better for the both of you, he won't have to deal with a crazy girlfriend and you won't feel your heart shatter every time he forgets to call or goes out with Lily. This is good.

This is for the better. You know it's for the better.

“Sam.” You say with a breath, suddenly self conscious of your hair, is it messed up? And the makeup you slept with (though you're not too worried with it being Jess's and all her stuff is waterproof). “I— uh, we should probably go to sleep. I'm still tired and you just came back, right?”

“Yeah, but if you want to talk about something, anything—” Why is he making this so hard?

“No, no, we should just… wait, did Dean bring you here, with your bags? You don't have your car?” He confirms your words and you groan, walking past him to the kitchenette, opening the fridge door to hopefully find the iced tea you hid from Jess. Thank god for blueberry iced teas.

“I can go back to my apartment, it's no problem,” And you freeze your movements as you curse yourself under your breath. That isn't what you meant, you're just very overstimulated and there's too many thoughts going on in your head, you wish you could calm them down, and now sam is staying over, and he’ll probably expect you to crash with him in Jess’s room.

“Sam, ‘m sorry, it’s just I’m so tired—”

“No, I get it. It’s fine, a cab—”

“What? No, I mean I’m sorry for being bitchy, I just wanna head to bed, that’s all. And I’m not hauling you into a cab, we’ll take Jess’s room… unless you wanna be alone?”

You look up from your drink to gouge his expression and he shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “‘Course not.”

Great. “Okay, you wanna drink something?”

At his refusal with a short ‘thank you’, you tell him you’ll be in the room in a moment which he takes as the dismissal it is, shutting the door behind him so you’re completely alone in the living room. Kitchen. What the fuck ever this is.

God, this is— you brush your hands through your hair shutting your eyes aggressively. You’re okay. It’s okay. The earth is still spinning and you haven’t failed any of your classes— and Sam is here and he’s being a loving boyfriend saying he misses you, what is wrong with you?

You decide that enough thinking’s enough as you drown the rest of your drink and enter the room with soft footsteps. Sam’s sprawled out on your best friend's bed and you check yourself out in the mirror quickly to see that, surprisingly, you look somewhat decent. You shut the lights off before you get in the bed, lying on your back just as Sam is.

Is it rude to sleep on your side? Definitely is. You can’t find it in yourself to care as you do it, moving the covers so they aren’t all on your side, and sing yourself to sleep because what the hell else are you supposed to do after today?

Waking up to the smell of fresh coffee and maybe even food? Yes. Always. Please.

You don’t waste a second getting off the bed, not like you’re getting any more sleep with the sun filling the room with a warm, golden glow. You shut the blinds off for good measure before freshening up in the bathroom quickly, not wanting to miss whatever was happening in the kitchen outside.

The second you open the door you’re engulfed in the scent, though this time you notice how sweet it is. You smile as you look over and see— oh. Right. You forgot. That’s why you’re in Jess’s room.

Jess is sitting on the counter while Sam cooks, what you assume are pancakes, on the stove. At the sound of the door, they both face you, Jess quickly running off the counter and into your arms. You reciprocate in no time, squeezing her tighter. “You okay?” She whispers in your ear, as good of a friend as ever.

“‘M okay. Please stay today.” When you pull away, she nods at you, like it’s a given then drags you to where she was sitting, right next to Sam. His smile pulls at your heartstrings and he leans down for a kiss that— there’s no way you’re not kissing him back. Your left-hand lands on his bicep as you steady yourself. When he pulls away, he doesn’t go completely, his face inches from yours, and he steals another quick one.

He’s back to cooking as he mumbles, “Missed you.”

What’s happening right now?

What on earth is happening right now?

You’ll think about it when you’re more awake. Or at least when you have food in you.

“Jess, what do you have planned for today?” you ask, your hand still on him as you rub it absentmindedly.

“I have classes— so do you, Sam!” Isn’t Jess a year younger than Sam? you never noticed how much she knows about the graduating class despite not being a part of it. She reads your mind like she's always done, “Gen’s with him, ‘sides most of my friends are from his class.”

Right. Gen. you should probably apologize to her for stealing her girlfriend for an entire night. Only god knows how she’s coping right now. When you glance at Jess you notice her surveying you and Sam, so you quickly take a step back to remove your hand.

“What about you, Sam? Any plans?” She listens, leaning over the island that separates the small kitchen from the living room, “other than class obviously, which you will be attending— by the way, Lily is so fucking pissed at you, dude.”

Sam throws his head back with a groan, “i know. She wont stop texting.”

That’s reassuring. He continues, “But I don't think I’m up for anything today. I’ll go the classes and talk to lily about finishing the project next week. You think she’ll understand?” His eyes catch yours and you feel obligated to answer with a quick nod.

He’s back to flipping pancakes that look surprisingly delicious considering you’ve never once seen him cook before. Though, in your defense, you’ve usually eaten out for every dinner and breakfast you spent together. Which now that you think of it, isnt cost-effective. Someone should chek on your bank account. Not you, obviously, but someone should.

“It smells really good.” you compliment, gesturing to jess to bring you a brush, which she complies, leaving to find one. “Where’d you learn to make food like that?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’, i used to read lots of books growing up, guess i picked up some cooking ones.”

“Really? That’s nice. Dean mustve been real lucky having you try out recipes.” you joke, dipping a fork into the batter to try it. ‘S horrible, just like you expected. It isnt cake batter, it wont taste good, and you knew that— doesnt mean you wont try it.

“Yeah he didnt really, i mean i never actually cooked or anything, just read them and when i got the apartment with Gen i started cooking more, turns out its something i like.” oh its cute to think that coming to stanford, getting his own place with gen, had opened up this kind of opportunity for him, and it has you wondering what else he did when he was younger. Youd hardly spoke of either of your childhoods— mostly because as much as you love your parents, you dont like thinking too much of how they were when you were younger, and apparently that lead to not asking about sam’s. Hes never talked about his mum, now that you notice it.

Is she out of the picture? Are you even allowed to ask? Did you want to ask considering whats been on your mind since yesterday? God, you dont even know if youre going through with it. Hes here and hes cooking breakfast, kissing you, holding you— why would you want to let that go?

“Here, whore.” jess emerges from her room, throwing the hairbrush.

“Thanks, slut.” she smirks, plopping onto the couch and you catch the look of surprise on sam’s face. “What? Whats wrong? We’re joking its just a thing we do.”

“No, i now, just didn't know you do that. Never heard it before.”

“Yeah, i don't even know how it started but it's cute.” he agrees leaning down for another kiss which you, stupidly, let him do. Your hand comes up to brush against his cheek before you remember the object you’re holding and disconnect, sitting on the counter, brushing your roots so you can tie your hair back with no fly-away strands. “You okay?”

You nod, not quite meeting his eyes as you focus on making sure your hair is perfect without so much as a phone camera. “Really?” He prodes, “you don’t look it. You’ve been weird since yesterday, did I do something?” Oh, did you ever, Winchester .

“No, Sam, ‘m fine.” He sighs but lets it go. It doesn’t take more than ten minutes for a stack of pancakes to finish cooking and Sam serves it on the counter next to maple syrup and some chocolate sauce he says he found in the fridge (you made it a few days ago but didn’t like it).

Thankfully, everyone enjoys the food, and Jess seems like she has a lot to say about him skipping out on you, then coming back all of a sudden, for losing communication with her— she doesn’t bring up yesterday at all which helps you relax since you’re not even sure what you’re going to do anymore.

It’s ten by the time you’re all done and the dishes are in the sink, you (like a fucking idiot again) kiss sam’s cheek, thanking him excessively. “I’m glad you liked it, it was my first time, I think.”

“You think?” He takes a step closer, both hands coming to rest on your waist as he nods. Why does he just love talking when you’re close to each other? Don’t people have conversations a few feet away anymore? Not possible?

“Yeah, I’m not sure if the first time counts, ‘nothin like what you had today, I’ll tell you that.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, it was amazing.” You wish you could say you missed the faint blush on his cheeks, but you didn’t, and it did nothing but make you want to kiss him more. “When do your classes start?”

“Two hours.” You frown, looking behind him at the clock you have hanged up.

“Seriously?”

“Dead.” You groan, looking around to find his bags on the floor on your front door, “I already packed.”

“I didn’t know you unpacked.”

“I didn’t exactly, just got some stuff out for this morning, but I’m ready to go, I’ll see you later today?”

You tilt your head after he kisses it, and you watch him walk away. “Today? What’s today?”

He shrugs, carding the duffel, “nothing specific, just thought I’d see you. If you want.”

If you want. Do you want? “Sure, we’ll see.” He nods, uncertain, before he yells out for Jess who rushes out of her room to hug him, muttering about ‘not being sure if she’ll ever see him again considering he likes to disappear’.

Couldn’t have said it better, Jess. You don’t have any classes today but some studying would do you good so you lock yourself in your room for an hour before Jess barges in and you’re more confused to find she’s not at Sam’s than you are to see her in lace lingerie. Because. What. The. Fuck.

“Jess!”

“Do I look pretty?” She teases, twirling around like a Disney princess, before going for something more R-rated, playing with the waistband of her panties. “Was gonna wear it last night for Gen, so I wanna surprise her but I’m scared black isn't my color.”

“Slut! Absolute slut. You’re showing me your girlfriend’s outfit? Sluttiest whore there ever was.” She giggles, walking over to your desk, “black is definitely your color, babe, you know that, don’t worry about it, Gen’ll love it.”

She still seems hesitant, but because Jess would rather kill herself before ever giving you reason to comfort her, she changes the subject, closing your books, “okay, tell me about Sam.”

“What about him? He’s in class— or has class in an hour, just like you do.”

“You’re breaking up with him?” You shrug, leaning back in your seat, “what do you mean,” she repeats your gesture mockingly, slapping your shoulder, “man up and choose a side.”

“Not a man. And besides, he doesn’t know so—”

“Stop being like this,” she scolds, crossing her arms in front of her chest, though it does nothing for her modesty, not that you care, “I know you and you can’t even fucking focus on anatomy. Come on, you need to do something. Talk with Sam or stop trying at all, there’s no other option and you know it.”

“Yeah well the two options suck.” You groan, slamming your head down on the desk. “I—”

“You love him, yeah.”

“Do you… think he does too?” You mumble against the desk before hearing her sigh. And it fucking breaks your heart to hear it indirectly. She hasn’t said anything even yesterday. She didn’t deny it, but she didn’t confirm that your fears are valid— she is now. She’s telling you again, as if you haven’t repeated it like a prayer in your mind, that you’ve just gone too fast.

“Sam cares about you, you know that, baby. I mean, he just cooked breakfast after staying the night. You guys shared the bed— he wants you, loves having you around.”

“But doesn’t love me.” You look up at her, already being sure tears will stain your face any moment now.

“It’s not even about time, it’s just— you’re scared and you’re letting it affect everything else in your life.”

“Isn’t that normal—”

“It isn’t. You know it isn’t. Me and Gen spend almost everyday together, but I know my place in her life, as her friend, girlfriend, lover, that’s all I am. At least for now, till we’re done with college and then me and her will figure it out. You’re different, you’re thinking of the future all the time and you’re overthinking what he says when he’s not here, and Sam's been doing things that don’t sit right with you— I know he has, don’t tell me he hasn’t. The first night you spent at his apartment when we told you about Lily I knew something was off. You don’t deserve to live in fear and anxiety because of a man being in your life. And it isn’t Sam’s fault, maybe— it’s not yours either, but it’s just not the right time.”

What’s worse, hearing what you want to hear or hearing what’s honest?

“Hey, Sam. I know you’re in class right now so just, call me when you’re done, we need to talk.” You wince at the last phrase, regretting it already. You’re about to put the phone down when it starts to vibrate with a call from him. Huh.

“Hey, baby, I’m done with class, I was just speaking with the professor. I haven't listened to your voicemail yet, what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shut your eyes at the lie, your breathing heavy, “just need to see you. Or actually,” you can’t bring him in blind, “it is something. Just, when can I see you?”

“Oh. I have a few classes then the project with Lily, so maybe eight?”

“Is there— when’s your next class?”

“Few hours.”

“Can we meet up now?”

“Is it important? because I don’t wanna cut it short and I don’t want to be late for class.”

“It’s important but it won’t take long.” He sighs, probably at your vague answers before deciding to meet up with you in your apartment. Like the gentlemen he is. That you’re leaving.

You call Jess the entire twenty minutes it takes him to knock on your door and she helps your through it all, the same way she has the second this started.

He greets you with a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and somehow that eases your worry. At least he knows something is coming. You close the door behind it and gulp before you let go of the knob and lean against it, not sitting down. He’ll probably want to leave anyways.

“What’s wrong? Is this about why you’ve been acting this way since yesterday?”

Maybe. Why does your mouth stop fucking working the second you actually have to say something? How on earth is that fucking fair. “It’s not fair.” Oh, great. There goes your speech.

“What’s not—”

“It’s not fair to us, what’s happening right now so I think we should just, you know, like not be together.”

Like, not be together? Way to show off how much of a seventeen year old you actually are.

“What?” He— Sam looks genuinely confused and that’s not something you anticipated.

“Breaking up. I’m breaking off what we’re doing because it’s just not working.” And that seems to register for him, finally and lets out a defeated breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “What?”

“I knew it was coming, I just have no fucking idea why. Why you’ve been so— I just need an explanation.”

“It’s everything, okay? It’s my fault, I started this knowing I wasn’t ready for a relationship and you’re great, Sam, but it’s not what I need right now.” You’re not sure what you’re saying half way through, this is not the script you rehearsed and he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you, shaking his head as if to say ‘bullshit’. “It’s a lot of things that we just can’t change about you and about me, we’re just not supposed to be together.”

“Don’t give me that crap, what can’t we change? And why can’t we change it?” He’s frustrated, not exactly angry and you wish you could gauge more of his feelings than just that but the truth is you’re radiating fear and anxiety that you can’t focus on anyone else’s emotions. “And why are you so tense?”

“Because I’m—”

“Breaking it off doesn’t mean you have to be shaking.” His voice is slightly raised so he cuts himself off, taking a breath before taking a step towards you, “You shouldn’t be shaking, okay? It’s fine, I respect your decision, but talking about this is also important.”

“But it’s over, right?” He tilts his head in confusion. “I mean, because, you’re not trying to convince me or anything, you’re just asking.”

“I’m not, what does that even mean? Do you not want me to fight for us?”

“Fighting for us would entitle fighting me, so I don’t think so. I’m sure this is the right thing to do, Sam. I’m very sure—.”

“Why?”

“Because of a—”

“Real fucking answers.” You flinch at his tone, supporting your weight on the other leg..

“A lot of what you think is okay and normal just isn’t with me. Like hanging out with Lily or leaving out of nowhere with Dean—”

“We talked about both of these things before I decided on them! Do you just keep a list of all the things I’m doing that you slightly disapprove of?”

“No, but it’s still early and this just shows we’re not for each other.”

“What about the things that show that we are? Studying at the apartment, the dinners, what was all of that? If you’re gonna make a list at least make it fair.”

“This isn’t a list!” You huff, angry at this point and you move away from the door so you’re not standing face to face, “it’s what I think is right. And I can’t live like this if I’m going to have to be okay with all of these things.”

“Live like this? You’re making thsi sound like—”

“—that’s just the way I see it, Sam.” You’re not sure what you would do if you hear him mock your overthinking. Mock marriage and your future.

“Well it’s wrong. I think we’re good for each other when you aren’t getting in your head about everything. You don’t have to think about things so intensely, and I’m not brushing your feelings aside, I get that they’re there, but if you keep giving them more than they deserve they’ll eat at you.”

“So will being with you.”

You’re a lot of things, but weak isn’t one of them. You’re starting to think that just isn’t true. And it’s starting to sink in as you watch Sam scoff out a breath, his hands covering his eyes as if he’s willing the entire conversation away.

And you’re starting to think it’s not true when he makes a move to leave the door.

And you’re sure it’s not true when you let him leave without a word.

part eight (epilogue); honey, you're familiar.

title: all my habits came back around (calgary by tate mcrae)

as we near the end of this thing I made that you guys decided to care about, I want to say thank you. I wrote the first chapter as a one-shot, and here we are over thirty thousand words later. I'm so grateful to this fic for how much it has allowed me to interact with the fandom and the amazing people in it.

on another note, this is not the end— don't worry— though this is exactly how I wanted the fic to go because when I wrote this, I had a very specific character in mind: one who is self-sabotaging and constantly struggling with an internal battle, she's complicated. While, of course, she will figure that out, it won't be now, and it won't be with Sam.

this doesn't spoil anything for the last and final chapter, but I did want to give some of my thoughts + I'm a sucker for reusing the first words of the first chapter in the end if you guys noticed + swear this series is a happy ending just wait!!

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97 @tranquilitybasegrunge

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x y/n #sammy #Stanford Sam Winchester #stanford sam #laila writes!!

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lungf4ilure · 23 hours

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another repost from my Instagram!! ^^

mangle and Jeremy.. absolute besties.

BTW HI HELLO HI COME JOIN MY FNAF + DSAF RP SERVER ON DISCORD...if you don't wanna rp, then at least come hangout.

THE SERVER IS UNFINISHED YET, THOUGH. we're completely revamping it so don't get scared!! The place is a MESS. it used to be a fnaf 4 server , then it was a fnaf ucn server...and now I want it to be just fnaf and dsaf themed in general..

consider this an early access or something like that! ^^

I REALLY NEED YOUR HELP BECAUSE OF WHATEVER SHENANIGANS ARE HAPPENING OVER AT DISBOARD.

i'm still working on nightmare foxy btw..! can't really figure out how to save him tho.. lmao 💀💀 I feel like the drawing's just getting worse and worse (now, I don't find it ugly nor hopeless!! I'm working my ass off on it and I think it looks pretty cool,.. considering I'm not very good at drawing animals!! it just didn't turn out the way I intended... and that makes me a little disappointed.)

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megamindsecretlair · 1 day

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WIP Tuesday

Buckle up babes, it's going to be a long post!

I come before you humble, hat in hand. I know I been wilding ya'll. I know there's a lot of fics I need to update and get back to. I haven't forgotten! And since there are...so many new people thanks to my Terry fics, what a great time to call myself out chuz ya'll too nice to do so! I saw @nerdieforpedro do this a few weeks ago? Forgive me for not tagging the person you got it from, but I am tiredt, chilleee.

Current focus: Terry got my whole heart, ya'll. Every fic I read of him, I just want to go hop in the booth myself and get to writing. Ya'll inspire me every damn day, it's magical. There is a filthy, disgusting, mean, despicable fic I wanna write with him. But alas, he is not the only one I write for.

Girl, there's how many series????? Listen, the muse wants what it wants. 11 series in total. Chillee, why I do dissssss. Some are closer to finishing than others. So let's count them out (click the links to learn more):

Frenn, that's a lot, do you sleep? Are you okay? Blink twice if you need help. I'm promise I'm good ya'll, I just love writing and I love interacting with ya'll. You have NO idea how much each and every single one of ya'll mean to me. I love the support, I love the comments, I love the reblogs. I'm trying not to disappoint folks, I was on a schedule and well, life happened. I can course correct, I promise. Just gon' take me a little minute. Let me close the smaller series first!

Okay, surely that's it right, frenn? Ahh no, because there's also the asks that have been piling up. Per my pinned post, you know that I have a scatterbrain. Some asks I deleted because they're too similar to what I've done before. Some I'm still trying to picture before I start writing. But the ones I've kept? At last tally it is...33. Some are similar and I'm going to combine them, but yeahhhhh. This isn't a callout post, keep sending those requests in! Just know it's gonna take me a smoooooooth minute. Also, welcome new people, welcome! But not everything needs a part two, I promise. If I write "The End" at the bottom, that truly means the end. No part 2 planned, ain't trynna write a part two. I want to move on sometimes. I love you, but I'll be writing until I'm gray if everything got a part 2. And I wanna get paid for my writing. Which brings me tooo...

Umm, umm, what's this I hear about a book??? Yes! I am actually writing a book based on an ask I received. It was a sweet ask about what kind of story would go with "Handwritten Letter". I said it gave friends to lovers, she fell first, he fell harder type of vibes. It has morphed into dark academia about a shy girl just trying to come into her own. It's a combo of and a love letter about girls like me, girls like you, each and every person who identifies as a Soft Black Girl. And I already have *so* many ideas about other books I want to do. There will be one based on the Mr. Black series I wrote. There will also be a vampire one! I just can't decide yet which will be the second book I put out. I'm leaning towards vampire because Terry is HEAVY on the brain ya'll. And he'd make a sexy vamp. But anywhooo...

I say all this to say that I'm not a machine. I'm not that quick despite appearances. I may not seem like I have any chill, but I've been fantasizing and turning over these fics in my head for days or weeks before I sit down to write. And I'm not saying to stop. Your support is exactly why I feel good enough about my writing to sit and write an entire book! I want to be a full time author. I want to share my ideas with the world. I'm just slow lmfaoooooo.

In the mean time, I hope you're hitting up all these amazing writers on here. I hope you're commenting and reblogging and showing love on here. I will keep saying it. This site will DIE and these BLACK writers will LEAVE if people keep stealing, not commenting, not reblogging, asking for part 2s and never showing love. Fandom is a community, not a pillar. No one know it's you behind that avatar, go crazy! Go nuts. Show nuts. whatever.

Love, love, love you all. If you read this far, drop something funny in the comments. Or go unhinged in my asks about Terry. Don't get me started about that man, but go awff about him because that's my baby favaaa.

no pressure tags: @chaos-4baby @j0kers-light @umber-cinders @harmshake @planetblaque @babybratzmaraj @soft-persephone

#Megaminds Secret Files #Megaminds WIPS #wips #work in progress #wip #wip tuesday #work in progress tuesday #and this is on top of a call center job that steals every ounce of joy i have #besides this app and you wonderful really fucking beautiful people #seriously #yall pics have me gagged #anywhooo #megamind be writing

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swampgallows · 2 days

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complaining here because i dont want to burden my friends but still want to collect validation in the form of little pixel hearts

my moms mental state has gotten so much worse and as a result her hoarding is becoming even worse and even more impossible to tolerate. i have tried to have more sympathy about it and to help her with it, sitting with her while she sorts "a box a day" or even just "one thing a day". ive gently recommended she get a new therapist but all she did was change her horse on the SSRI carousel and start smoking weed. i've linked her articles and books and videos, and when she doesnt look at any of them i try to relay to her in conversation what i learned from them when she bemoans "why am i like this?". none of it matters. she just complains that it's "too overwhelming" and she "can't help it" even though she refuses any help at all.

i know it is a mental disorder. i know it is overwhelming. i know it causes her physical pain to get rid of things and at the same time cripples her with guilt to keep it all. but as of right now all we're trying to get her to do is just rearrange the things so that they aren't turning our house into a fucking obstacle course, and she pushes back on that too. like she doesn't want to even organize the piles AS THEY ARE and condense them because she'd rather be "actually throwing things away and putting things away like a human being!"—the thing that she very specifically CANNOT do.

and if we consolidate it on our own? hooooly christ. she goes on a fucking rampage, slamming doors, screaming/sobbing, throwing shit (her shit. it's all her shit). because it's HER stuff and WE touched it and she feels guilty about all her stuff. she STILL talks about when my sister tidied the spice cabinet, convinced that "she threw everything away!" and that was years ago. (my sister is a different kind of insane and probably DID throw a bunch of shit away, but either way all it did was give my mom ammunition for the rest of her life to never do anything.)

this is long enough already so all i can say is that im disappointed in myself for losing more of my tolerance and sympathy. like at this point the only reason i care is because i have to fucking live here since i havent been able to stay employed or move out yet and my mental health is also incredibly bad. but also my mom's becoming much more intolerant and hateful as a human being, which makes me less inclined to keep trying. like she deliberately brings up incendiary topics (usually politics), whips herself up into a cyclone of hatred (every '-ism' you can think of) while preemptively apologizing for things that she thinks that we think about the politics that she "doesn't like talking about" despite blatantly shifting the conversation to bring them up, then devolves into histrionic crying or yelling at us for something she has imagined. this is almost every day. i know she's my mom so im trying but christ alive

#blathering

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imavikingo · 2 days

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I was thinking on when Steve lost Bucky for the 3rd time (1st when he was drafted, 2nd when he was told he was MIA, 3rd when he fell) he tried to get drunk to forget, right? If he did that then...

What did he do when he lost him for the 6th time? (4th when he escaped, 5th when Bucky was in cryo, 6th the snap)

I mean technically Bucky died twice, but Steve lost him six times already.

And of he tried to get blind drunk once of those times- did he self-harm in other ways too?

To dull the pain? He can't get drunk, he heals quickly, he can't die easily either, so what did he do?

He wouldn't want to die when he knows for a fact that Bucky is alive ofc, but I can't see him acting normally or without a little bit of reckless energy.

To dull the pain and disappoinment (he can't feel like that, that's Bucky's choice -Cryo-. But how it hurts him tho).

(unrelated to this line of thought but it is relevant to the idea regardless)

That's why I can't fathom the idea of Steve abandoning Bucky in endgame.

He lost him 6 six (6) times already and he just... Went away? To a woman he only kissed once? After all he did for him, the pain and loss?

Even if you don't ship them, you have to think that to be really ooc on Steve's part. Everything in his character arc in the MCU is related to Bucky (and loss). Yes he liked Peggy, but he didn't suffer nor mourn her the same way he mourned Bucky (She was alive, but had dementia and was also very old, and had her own life).

His feelings for Peggy were more a "what if" and lost possibilities than anything.

She was an idea, a fantasy (that's why Wanda used that when fighting with him, right?). Not something real.

He wanted to be with her, but he didn't really knew her or love her (at least I don't think so).

She was the first woman that saw him for him after all. Before everything. But that's it.

He liked her for that (and her strong personality too) but did he love her? He didn't try to get on dates after he was defrosted because he knew people would only see Captain America, not Steve Rogers. He needed to represent an ideal and knew no one would understand (the pain, loss) and have the patience to be with him. That’s why he also highlighted the shared life experience thing.

So she was comforting, reassuring in a toxic and unhealthy kind of way (memories and fantasy aren't healthy when used like that). But still a what if and lost opportunity. He had to let her go at one point. And he did(!) But they had to fuck it up…

I mean... it's the same thing when you're still hung up on an ex. You want to think of the possibilities, the what ifs, the "what could have been" But when you go back to them nothing is like you remembered, nothing is like you wanted and you are dissatisfied and disappointed.

(Because all of that was in your head, it wasn't real).

And besides, he knew she had a life of her own (a fulfilling one at that) so what, he was selfish enough to fuck that up too? Without helping HIM? Without saving HIM? Abandoning HIM? After just being brought to life? After grieving him for another five years? Bucky was his best friend, his companion, his best pal…

He wouldn't do that to him. He would die before hurting Bucky (as they already stablished for most of the fucking movies) He even was like “You don’t understand” when Peggy talked to him in the bars ruins.

I think in canon (not ooc/EG)Steve would entertain the idea, but would decide to just keep it as that: An idea, a fantasy. And move on like he already did before.

Also the idea that it was a Peggy from an alternative universe is flawed because he abandoned HIS Bucky, even if in the other universe he helped or whatever.

In HIS UNIVERSE he abandoned his best friend? Not believable. And the logic of “oh it didn’t change their timeline because it was another one” is also stupid.

They already fucked up with Steve fighting 2012!Steve and also telling him about Bucky (creating another universe more than likely). And they were supposed to be undetected. Not create new universes. Thats also why I’m so keen on the idea of Steve being in a prison or something. He already fucked up once, twice if you think he went to the past to stay.

How can he be free while fucking up the timelines? Yeah, nah.

Also… they implied Steve can’t age in a movie if I remember correctly…. How did he become old?

And the idea that he went to Peggy because “Tony told him to have a life outside of captain america” is fucked up. So what? He relates his Bucky’s existence with work? FUCK OFF. Endgame Steve is fucked up and the worst character assassination I’ve ever seen.

They were just too annoyed with the fans because we ship Stucky (even tho they used that to promote the movies in panels and stuff, hypocrites -I remember clearly the producers? of the movie talk about gay characters and the actors talk about Stucky in those panels for then…be one of the russos in like 1 second and have that shit ass, fuck ass ending for Steve and Bucky. That shit was vile-).

im also annoyed with some people that now shit on Steve when umh… did you see the movies? The other movies? Not only Endgame? (Btw the only one that got a “good ending” was Tony because he died as a hero in front of everyone -even tho he didn’t want to help at first because he had a good life, the ONLY ONE OF THEM might I add-, everyone else got worse, is dead or they’re neglected and treated as haha funny character or haha funny moment)

Im all for ships and ideas and headcanons (even when I hate them with passion, you do you) but don’t try and use this character assassination as an excuse to shit on Steve. If you NEED to shit on a character for your ship to work, then you’re not doing a good job at it or your ship sucks. Idk what to tell you.

#steve rogers #im rambling about Captain America and the stupidity of Endgame #anti endgame #mcu #marvel mcu #ramblings #im rambling bc Im pissed off #i wrote this on twt originally #but I expanded it on here #stucky #endgame isnt canon in this house #Tbh im also mad at the idea of Tnoy being selfless or a hero for dying #he didn’t want to help bc HIS life was good #and of course he had to get the only good ending out of everyone lmao #even Natasha was neglected #endgame is so fucked up man #I fucking hate the ending so bad #you dont understand #also I dislike Tony because they always always try to make him more likeble by omitting info (like in the accords)#or putting a kid in front of him and saying see he’s doing it for the kids benefit!#like no the accords would have fucked up with Peters life too #and Morgan was only there to make them not go back in time bc the fucker abandoned his kid anyway #by dying but you know #he needed to die a hero #gimme a break and now RDJ is back in the mcu #idk Im really not a hater of Tony but I dislike when they try too hard to make him likeble #hes an asshole deal with it #dislexia hates me rlly bad and im not going to correct the tags but you get the idea #i had to edit this bc I realized that Steve actually lost bucky 6 times #i mean technically

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