#i really love that there’s like this selfishness in sans

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 23

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut, fluff, angst, quiet hurt & a touch of heartbreak

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Oh, you'll hate me again for ending it like this. Have fun, guys 😂

<< 22 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

23. Every Breath You Take

“More?” Dean offers the half-emptied wine bottle and holds it over Y/N’s glass as they sit around the dinner table. The actress throws him a raised look with a little smile playing on her lips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk? You don’t have to. I’m already sleeping here,” she points out in amusement.

“Yeah, but when you’re buzzed, you let me do more shit.” The green-eyed director smirks.

“Ew, Dad!” Claire groans next to him. “I’m right here. This is why I don’t wanna do family dinner with you guys.”

“This was actually a nice idea,” Y/N says with a smile so bright it shows her dimples. “Thanks for cooking tonight. Perfect way to start our last week of filming.”

Dean’s heart stings slightly at her words, but he covers it with a tight smile. The last three weeks passed by rather quickly, and each week, he grew more worried, more nervous, more depressed, and more anxious. This was it. Seven more days before it all imploded. Six more nights before he might not see her again.

He has been wracking his brain, trying to come up with solutions to save the show – to keep her. Cas and Jo are out on fairs, networking with networks and showing their tape to other producers in hopes of getting picked up by someone else, still without any success.

“So, uh, any plans so far? Heard some of the girls are going to auditions, looking for other jobs,” Dean notes and nurses his beer. He doesn’t hold it against them. It’s the business, after all, and everyone’s trying to survive and find their next paycheck.

Y/N bobs her head and sets her wine glass down. “Yeah, actually. I was thinking about taking your advice and going to New York for auditions. I like the idea of doing theater or maybe even a musical.”

Dean forces a supportive smile on his face and hides the heartbreak in his ribcage. “Yeah, you should. You’d be great at it.”

“But, uhm, for now, I’m actually driving to San Diego in a few days for an audition for a musical. I’m not gonna get it, but I figured it’d be fun,” she tells him, and even though she downplays it, Dean can see the excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, why wouldn’t you get it?” he encourages her. He promised himself he’d always be her cheerleader, no matter his own feelings on the subject. He’s trying a new thing these days – it’s called being less selfish.

But God, he hopes she gets it. San Diego is a lot closer to LA than New York.

Y/N snorts into her glass, chuckling. “It’s a Sondheim musical, Dean. I’m not expecting to get it. It’s just good practice.”

“Aiming high, huh?” Dean laughs despondently and takes a big gulp of beer to choke down his tears.

Dammit, Dean thinks. He wishes he could call the dude and tell him what a great woman and actress Y/N is. He’d be lucky to have her in his production. Maybe the director could bribe him to hire her? Would that take things too far?

“How are you gonna get down there?” Dean’s eyes drift to the leg in a cast that rests on a chair next to him.

Y/N gives him a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Take the bus?”

“I’ll drive you,” he says with a swig of his beer. See? Supportive. He’s really proud of himself, although he wishes he were a lot drunker right now.

“Ooh, uh, Claire, I borrowed two dresses from Alex for you. I put them in your room. You need to pick one for your Winter Formal,” Y/N tells his daughter with a bright smile.

But Claire shakes her head with teenage defiance. “I don’t need a dress. Jack and I are going ironically.”

Dean’s brow furrows in confusion as he blinks at his kid. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Claire rolls her eyes in response and groans. “Ugh, Dad, you’d think for someone who lived through counterculture, you’d understand.” With that, she gets up from the dinner table and takes her empty plate to the kitchen sink.

“I know what she means,” Y/N mumbles nonchalantly.

Dean’s bewildered gaze darts to her. “Really? What?”

Y/N coolly shrugs her shoulders as she sips on her wine before she sighs defeatedly. “Fine, I don’t know. I just wanted to sound cooler than you,” she admits with a cute smile.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“I’m going to bed. Good night! Don’t be too loud!” Claire yells before the door to her room slams shut.

Dean watches Y/N as she leans back in her chair with a blissful sigh and empties her glass. She has pretty much spent every night at his place since the hospital. At this point, the director has gotten so used to it that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if one night she didn’t. Why can’t it stay this way?

He never thought he’d be someone who wants to have family dinners every night.

“Too tired for dessert?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows and his signature smirk.

Y/N laughs lightly. “I wish one of these days you’d offer me actual dessert,” she quips.

“Like what? Chocolate cake? Pie? I’d actually love some pie. Maybe we should get one for tomorrow night,” Dean muses, chuckling.

Y/N grins mischievously at him and leans her elbows on the dinner table, resting her chin in her palms. “Maybe you can eat pie off of me.”

Dean curls his lips, his cheeks blushing at the idea alone. His dick seems to like it, too. “God, I love… your brain,” he quickly corrects his course before the wrong words slip out.

And it’s not like it isn’t true. While Y/N hasn’t been able to act and tumble around the ring, she’s been coming up with storylines and basically coordinated matches for the past three episodes. She’s also constantly by his side and mans the booth with him. If Dean didn’t sleep with her and like her, he’d actually be scared she’s coming for his job. She’s pretty much directing at this point, and he just lets her because, well, did he actually ever care?

But his declaration is only a small part of the truth, the full truth being that he loves more than just her damn brain and has for a long while. He’s been trying to say the words for weeks now, started and stopped a hundred times, and tried to pack his feelings into a coherent sentence that honestly shouldn’t be more than three words long.

However, those are some big three words. Monstrous for Y/N. And deep down, Dean knows she might feel like he does, too, but can’t admit it and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it. To her, this little arrangement between them is nothing more than friends who fuck. Only Dean’s aware that they’re actually in a deeply serious relationship, which is maddeningly ridiculous.

But hey, if he keeps his mouth shut, they might make it another five years like this without Y/N running away, so that’s something.

Dean then rises from his seat and offers his hands to Y/N. Her leg is still in a cast, so she has been wobbling around on crutches or hopping clumsily across a room. It’s pretty darn cute.

“Thank you,” Y/N says gratefully as Dean helps her up and slings her arm around his neck before he fully hoists her into his arms. She giggles as he carries her into the bedroom. “You don’t have to do this every night, you know. I can walk just fine.”

“Says you, but truth is, you’ve never seen yourself walk on these things. It’s pathetic,” he teases her and plops her carefully down on the bed.

He flings off his shirt and removes his jeans and underwear as Y/N unbuttons her blouse. The mattress dips as he climbs into the bed and helps her discard her pants. It’s routine at this point, but Dean has really started to cherish the stability. Every morning when he wakes up and smiles at her, he loves knowing that he’ll fall asleep right next to her at night all over again.

Gently, he spreads her legs and slots between them. His lips find hers in the moonlit dark and kiss her with deep affection and burning love, always pouring his whole heart into each kiss and hoping one of these days it’ll stick.

Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he rolls it over his throbbing length and positions his dickhead at her entrance, slipping into her tight channel till she’s full of him. Her lips part as the same little gasp escapes her that he hears every time he enters her. He loves hearing that noise almost as much as he loves to hear the big one when she comes and the medium ones in-between.

Sometimes, Dean makes her come before, but on nights like these, when she’s already had half a bottle of wine, he rather works quick. While wine makes her louder and more daring, it also renders her quite sleepy.

“Fuck,” she sighs and closes her eyes with a euphoric smile, her pussy gripping his cock tight as she clenches around him. “You’re always so good at that.”

Dean smiles amusedly. Wine makes her chatty, too. “I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart,” he remarks.

“Well, I guess I just-… I just love your cock,” she says bluntly and grins up at him. “And those lips.”

See? Wine.

“These ones?” Dean asks teasingly and leans down, pulling one of her nipples between them till she squirms.

“Uh-huh, yes…” she moans softly and cards her hands through his hair, causing a groan to pass his lips. “And that tongue.”

“This one?” Dean lets his tongue roll over that same nipple till it peaks, feeling her arch her back underneath him.

“Yes, and God, those hands and fingers…” she almost whines.

“Those two?” Dean snakes a hand between their bodies, two of his fingers finding her clit and drawing tickling circles.

There’s no more strength left for words. She bites harshly down on her bottom lip and nods vividly. Her cunt clutches him tightly, eliciting a giddy chuckle from him. He loves making her squirm.

Three more squeezes, and he knows he has to move before she grows impatient. He knows her well by now, knows every little detail about her, and loves that he does. They haven’t even been able to do half the things he wants to do to her due to her current injury and inability to move (or bend) as freely.

And yet, he’s still not fucking bored, not in the slightest. He keeps waiting for it, but it never comes.

On the contrary, he appreciates the feeling of knowing someone so deeply and intimately as he knows Y/N. She has become a part of his soul, and he doesn’t know if he could ever cut her out without severely hurting himself. He’s not sure if he could survive a wound this deep.

“Dean, please…”

That was the fourth – like clockwork.

Dean manages to thrust twice before loud punk rock music shakes the walls and drowns out every noise in the entire house. Hell, the whole neighborhood can probably hear it.

Frustrated, his head drops momentarily to Y/N’s shoulder as the actress snorts a giggle. He can feel her body and cunt trembling around him, but not for the reason it should.

“Claire!” Dean shouts angrily. “Turn that fucking music down! Y/N’s trying to sleep!”

“No, she’s not!” his kid yells back through the wall and the unbearable music. “I know you guys are having sex! I don’t wanna hear anything!”

“We’re not having sex,” Dean barks and watches as Y/N gapes at him in sheer playfulness.

“Wow, you lie like that to your kid?” she teases him.

“What d’you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m inside of her now’?” Dean retorts wryly, making Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter as she snorts into his shoulder. “Can you please stop laughing while I’m trying to fuck you? My soldier’s already retreating.”

But Y/N only laughs harder at that, tears streaming down her cheeks as Dean’s lips purse with a sigh through his nose. She then exhales a deep, long breath, trying to calm herself. He’s seen her do this very move a hundred times during an acting scene.

She clears her throat and tries to force a more serious look onto her features. “How about a little Russian motivation?” she says in her infamous accent and smiles when his cock twitches in agreement. “Maybe some oral manipulation, yes?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean grins and leans down to capture her lips. “God, I love yo… your pussy,” he quickly corrects himself once more. That was a close one.

Alright, don’t look at him like that and don’t judge him. He’s trying. He really is.

But Jesus fucking Christ, he loves living these days. Who knew his forties would be the best time of his life?

With a big yawn, Y/N rubs her eyes and stretches her arms over her head. The shower in the main bathroom is running with Dean already in it. She grabs her crutches and hops to the window, opening the blinds to let some sunlight in.

She takes a deep breath and enjoys the morning silence for a moment, her gaze drifting out the quiet neighborhood. It has never been this peaceful in the motel. The last three weeks, she has really appreciated waking up in Dean’s bed. She knows she’s probably overstaying her welcome at this point, but he hasn’t kicked her to the curb yet, so she hasn’t been in a hurry to return to the motel, either.

He was right – the memory foam mattress is fucking heaven, especially with a broken ankle.

All in all, she imagined being benched for the show would be a lot worse than it is. Dean’s done a great job of incorporating her anywhere outside of the ring. She’s helping with storylines, training, directing, producing – really anything that could use a few tweaks. The green-eyed director is unfashionably nice to her. Maybe it’s the sex or their friendship or a combination of both. Either way, she’s grateful for him.

However, there’s this tiny voice inside her head that keeps telling her there’s a reason why Dean’s been so nice, and it’s not just the sex. It’s certain kisses and touches and looks – especially the looks – that make her believe there’s something lying underneath the surface. An iceberg so gigantic it could sink the Titanic. Whenever she catches his clandestine gazes from her periphery, there’s this inexplicable feeling that creeps through her veins.

Her peace is disturbed when excessive knocking and an uninterrupted ringing of the doorbell draw her attention to the front door. A part of her expects to find her best friend behind it. Only Jo could be this ruthless and obnoxious.

Y/N hurries to the door as fast as she can, which isn’t fast at all, considering she’s on crutches. Everything is just awkward and slow these days, but she’s been practicing moving around in hopes of joining the show again for the final episode. Billie and Donna have been helping her, too.

But as Y/N opens the door, she’s not greeted by the familiar blonde but by a brunette stranger instead. The only similarity the woman shares with Jo is that she’s incredibly hot and angry, too.

“Can I help you?” Y/N asks with a look of bewilderment, although she shouldn’t be surprised to find a mad woman on Dean’s doorstep.

“I’m Lisa Braeden. I’m looking for my daughter,” the woman says, somewhat impatiently.

Oh.

“Uh…”

Y/N stumps for a moment, eyeing the woman in front of her closely. So, this is Claire’s mother. Dean’s ex. She tries not to feel insecure around her, but it’s hard, considering the woman is a bombshell with perfect curves and flawless features. And if she looks like that now, Y/N wonders what she must’ve looked like seventeen years ago.

The actress suddenly feels very exposed in only the director’s flannel. Truthfully, she looks like she just crawled out of a gutter. Maybe it’s the fact she has just woken up and is sporting major bed-head, but Lisa probably thinks Dean took in a homeless person. The cast and crutches don’t help, either. And then, Y/N wonders why a part of her cares at all what the brunette thinks and reminds herself it’s not a competition.

“Dean? Dean!”

Her voice carries a certain amount of panic that’s probably uncalled for. Yet, it helps. The shower turns off, and not a minute later, Dean stands next to her with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his broad chest still glistening with droplets of water.

He does know how to make an entrance.

Dean’s brow is deeply creased when he takes in the woman at the door, lacking a sense of recognition, however. “What the fuck is all that noise?”

“I’m the fucking noise,” Lisa replies dryly. “I’m here for my kid.”

“Oh…” Dean stumps as well. Then, he swallows thickly and gives her a nervous smile. “Hi, uhm, I’m Dean Winchester.”

“I know who you fucking are, you moron,” Lisa huffs, shaking her head. “You got me pregnant. Where’s Claire?” When neither Dean nor Y/N answer, Lisa rolls her eyes and waltzes past the two inside the house. “Claire!”

“Sure, come on in,” Dean mutters under his breath and shares a wide-eyed look with Y/N, hoping for some guidance.

The actress eyes him up and down, pensively licking her lips. “Maybe you should get dressed.”

With some pants and a shirt on, Dean and Y/N have retreated to the kitchen and sip quietly on their cups of coffee while Lisa and Claire scream at each other. It’s a classic mother and teenage daughter battle. Claire fights for freedom, while Lisa fights for control.

“I had sex with that woman seventeen years ago. Now she’s in my house, yelling at my kid,” the director voices his thoughts out loud, a hint of trepidation shimmering in his green eyes.

“Yup, life has a way of catching up with you. Kinda learned that this year,” Y/N notes with pursed lips and sends him a smile. “But hey, they’re your family now. Kinda nice, right?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Dean huffs with a bitter look and watches Y/N place her mug in the sink.

“I should probably go. Leave you guys to figure this out,” Y/N announces, one hop on a healthy foot away from walking out the door. “I’ll call a cab.”

“No, don’t! You can’t leave me here alone with them,” Dean pleads, the sheer panic and desperation visible in his eyes and audible in his voice. His gaze bores into her. “C’mon, I need you. This is one of those, you know, friendship moments. Like abortions and getting over coke addictions.”

Y/N lets out a small sigh. How could she leave him after everything he’s done for her? She basically has no choice but to stay and help him through this. “What d’you want me to do? Mediate?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dean shrugs helplessly. “I just know I’m gonna say all the wrong shit at the wrong time. Please. I don’t wanna lose my kid. Help me.”

As she catches his gaze, there’s that inexplicable feeling creeping through her veins again. This time, it even tugs on her heart.

“Okay, uhm, alright. I’ll stay,” she promises him, offering him a small smile of comfort.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Dean comes close to saying the three ominous words once more. It’s getting harder every day to keep them inside. How long does he have until he bursts? He feels like a ticking time bomb.

“Maybe we should all sit down and talk?” Y/N suggests as soon as Claire has stormed into her room and slammed the door in upset.

“About what?” Lisa barks, half-annoyed as she rests her hands on her squared-off hips. “She’s been lying to me for months.”

“Okay, in my defense, she told me you were crazy,” Dean explains with an innocent shrug.

“I don’t care if she told you I beat her and locked her into the basement. If a kid has run away from home, you call their mother,” Lisa retorts furiously.

Dean purses his lips in defeat for a moment, especially when Y/N seems to agree. She’s kind of his moral compass, but he’s not ready to accept his loss yet. “Well, you didn’t call me to tell me you were having a kid. My kid,” he argues and knows it’ll probably backfire. He can tell by Y/N’s frown.

“Oh, excuse me for not calling the guy who didn’t stay for breakfast,” Lisa counters with an eye roll.

Dean’s brow furrows, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s what happened.” Granted, he’s been high for two decades now.

“I asked if you wanted pancakes. You said, ‘No, thanks, but that was fun.’ And then you got into your car and bolted, never to be seen again,” Lisa recalls, frowning.

“Uhm, that sounds like it was a long time ago,” Y/N interjects in his defense, chuckling nervously. “He’s a different and more mature person now.”

Dean’s heart swells to twice its size. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him. Although, he can tell she only said it to win Lisa over. She’s a good actress, making even him believe her words. But she’s helping him, so it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks for the input. Who are you again? Are you his fucking maid?” Lisa arches a brow at her, eyeing her up and down.

“No, she’s not my maid,” Dean replies fiercely but then doesn’t know what else to say. Girlfriend? Lover? Friend? Nothing sounds right. “She’s my, uhm, she’s my actress. She’s my… You know, she’s… She’s Y/N.”

At that, Y/N’s brow draws together in the middle with a tilt of her head. Dean surmises that answer probably sounded even weirder.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve changed so much.” Lisa scoffs sarcastically and folds her arms over her chest, her patience running low.

Y/N subtly clears her throat, deciding to step in. God knows the director needs all the help he can get. “Okay, uhm, it doesn’t really matter who I am,” she says and shares a look with Dean, who anxiously chews his bottom lip raw. “What matters is that Dean has really connected with Claire over the last few months. He’s enrolled her in high school, she has joined AV club, she’s got a really nice and sweet boyfriend.” Dean grimaces at that last part, but Y/N skillfully ignores it and continues, “They’re going to Winter Formal tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m chaperoning,” Dean announces proudly. “This dance is very meaningful to her.”

Lisa snorts a laugh, clearly amused. “My kid does not go to dances.”

“Yes, I do!” Claire suddenly stands in the middle of the living room with the brightest smile. It’s freaky, really. She gleefully holds up the two dresses Y/N brought over last night, feigning her excitement. “Which one should I wear?”

Lisa and Dean disagree on the dress choice, but when Y/N sides with Lisa, Claire takes the hint and quickly disappears back into her room.

“It’s just one night, and it will give you two some time to catch up. Figure this out,” Y/N advocates suggestively.

“Yeah, what she said,” Dean agrees and clears his dry throat, wishing he had a bottle of booze in his hand to calm his nerves. Man, in stressful situations like these, he does miss coke sometimes. But fucking Y/N has been a great substitute, so maybe he’ll just do that as soon as that crazy woman leaves his house again. “Look, I get that you’re angry. But I’m really trying here, okay? She’s doing great at school, I gave her a curfew… I wanna make up for lost time,” he explains sincerely. Y/N sends him a proud smile.

“Fine, one night, but tomorrow we’re leaving,” Lisa relents with a sigh. “I’m not gonna indulge this fucking father-daughter fantasy,” she huffs and then finally storms out of the house.

Y/N exhales a long sigh of relief. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“You think?” Dean checks insecurely. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Y/N hadn’t been here to support him. “You’re coming tonight, right?”

Surprised by the request, Y/N’s brow meets her hairline. “You want me to go to your daughter’s Winter Formal with you?”

“Yes, obviously,” Dean states matter-of-factly and blinks at her. “You can’t leave me alone with that woman.”

Y/N heaves another sigh as she looks at him. “Okay, fine,” she surrenders.

Sitting on the bleachers of a fully decorated gym, Y/N realizes she has kind of missed high school. At least, everything used to be much simpler back then. Your crush would ask you to go steady, you’d say yes or no, and then you’d be broken up shortly after prom.

Adulthood is complicated. People are complicated. And love is goddamn unfathomably complicated.

“It’s so weird seeing her with her first high school boyfriend,” Lisa notes with a small sigh next to her. “I still remember her drawing with crayons. Now, she’s running miles away, lying, and making out with a boy.”

“Yeah, teenage romance is a lot more intense,” Y/N says, chuckling softly.

“She won’t wear a dress to my wedding. Refused to. Screamed bloody murder,” Lisa says thoughtfully. “But after spending a few months with her estranged father, she suddenly puts one on.”

“People are complicated,” Y/N reiterates her earlier sentiment.

Claire is complicated. Dean is complicated. And Y/N? She might be the most complicated of all.

“My fiancé is not,” Lisa says, a delicate smile playing across her lips. It’s enough to show her happiness. “I always used to date these guys that would run so hot and then completely cold the next minute. I never knew where I stood. It was exhausting.”

“Yeah, I get it…”

Y/N’s eyes drift to Dean as he chats with one of the other dads by the buffet. She doesn’t know what the director wants from her. She doesn’t know what their relationship even is. One minute, it feels epic, like a love so legendary it should only exist on the silver screen. And the next minute, it feels trivial, like it should’ve never existed at all.

But Dean’s not the problem. Deep down, she knows what that creeping feeling in the pits of her stomach is. And she knows she’s not ready for it. Truth is, Y/N has no idea what she wants and feels lost. Because if she admits one thing, it’d mean the end of another. If she stays in LA for a guy, what would that mean for her career? She doesn’t want to end up like Jo. She’s finally about to have it all, only to realize both at the same time are a mere dream.

And worst of all, even if she did know what she wanted, she’s doesn’t know if she deserves it.

“So, what d’you do, son?” an older man next to Dean asks. He’s already balding and gray, as is the scruffy beard he’s sporting. His suit jacket with a name tag that reads “Chaperone” looks a little worn and sleazy, too. The director figured he’d be one of the oldest dads here, so this guy comes as a pleasant surprise.

“I’m a director of a women’s wrestling show,” Dean replies and takes a sip from the fruit punch. None of the kids have spiked it yet, which is quite the disappointment. What’s happening to today’s youth, huh? “And you?”

“Oh, nice.” The man nods with a smile and pulls out a business card from his suit jacket, handing it to Dean. “Bobby Singer. I own a small chain of strip clubs, although my wife Ellen would probably like me to tell you I’m a small business owner.”

“Got it.” Dean chuckles and glances at the card in his hands. “Bobby’s Body Shop. Oh, hey, I know this one! ‘Where the girls are hotter than the asphalt,’” he quotes the club’s tagline proudly, grinning. “I’m there all the time! Actually got one of your girls in my show.”

Bobby chuckles. “Well, next time you’re there, ask for me. I’ll get you a discount.”

“Thanks.” Dean smirks. And Cas claims you can only network on the fucking golf course. “Oh, hey, you should catch one of our shows. It’s our last one this week. It’s pretty badass. We’re over at the old gym in Watts.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there,” Bobby says with a smile.

Dean’s eyes then drift to Y/N on the bleachers. Last time he checked on her, she was still chatting with Lisa, but the brunette has since left. And as he glances at her now, Y/N has found herself encircled by a group of horny teenage boys, causing his brows to draw together and meet in the middle. They’re like fucking vultures.

“Shoo!” Dean barks sternly at the young men as he approaches the group and watches them scurry away with their tails tugged between their scrawny legs.

With an amused smile, Y/N arches an eyebrow at him. “Glad you’ve decided to join me. It was getting crowded. I’ve turned down about twenty offers to dance.”

“Look at you, you little heartbreaking cougar,” Dean retorts with a teasing smile. “You’re gonna turn me down, too?”

“I have a broken ankle. Did you forget that part? I can’t dance,” Y/N replies.

“Oh, c’mon, that never stopped you before. ‘Sides, I’ve got two working legs and can’t dance, either. So, what d’you say, huh?” Dean holds out his hands for her to grasp.

“Fine,” Y/N relents and grabs his hands, hopping to her feet. “Let’s do some awkward swaying.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dean laughs and rests his palms on her hips, helping her stand as she locks her arms around his neck.

“Is that what you had in mind?” Y/N asks teasingly as she looks up and meets his gaze.

“Kinda.” Dean dips his head and catches her lips, deepening the kiss with his tongue slipping inside her mouth.

“Dean,” she scolds him softly with blushed cheeks and a giggle that surely won’t keep him from doing shit. “There’s people here. Teenagers.”

“So? It’s nothing they wouldn’t do,” Dean remarks mischievously. “And no one’s here that we know. Claire’s caught us like a million times already, and Lisa doesn’t care. C’mon, we never get to do those things in public,” he appeals with a wiggle of his brows.

“Alright,” Y/N surrenders with a small sigh and a smile, tiptoeing up on one foot to press her soft lips back on his. She feels him breath into the kiss, cherishing every second of it. His hands wander from her hips to cup her cheeks, causing her to almost topple over as he forgets that he’s been steadying her. “Whoa, Dean!”

Her giggle interrupts the kiss as she tightens her grip around his neck before he moves his hands back to their place on her hips, offering her support again. She leans her head against his chest, and he rests his chin on her crown.

“Sorry, got carried away there for a moment,” he apologizes with a snicker, pecking the top of her head gently.

“Yeah, that happens with you sometimes,” she teases and buries her head deeper into his shirt. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you on something again?”

Dean wants to say it’s love, but that sounds too fucking cheesy.

“Nope, still clean,” he replies instead and doesn’t take offense in her question. “Just nerves, I guess. There’s something I wanna tell you,” he says and licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

Y/N looks up and finds his green eyes, her brow knitting in curiosity. But there’s a perceptive shimmer in her orbs, and Dean knows she can already anticipate what’s coming next. Judging by her shift in weight, he can tell she doesn’t want him to say it out loud.

“Shit, uhm…” She squeezes her eyes shut and fumbles for an excuse. Dean gives her a plethora of time to find a believable one. “I have to go. I promised the girls we’d work out a plot for the finale together tonight, celebrate our last week.”

Dean’s lips quiver but manage to find a smile. “You sure?”

Reluctantly, Y/N still nods and lets out a tense breath. “Yeah.”

It feels like dancing around a big, pink elephant between them. Both of them pretend it’s invisible, although it’s painfully not. It’s even roaring or hooting or whatever the fuck elephants do.

“Alright, I’ll drive you to the motel,” Dean capitulates with a resigned nod.

“No, uh, stay,” she tells him and clumsily hops back to the bleachers to grab her crutches. “I’ll get a cab. You should spend your night with Claire. Figure things out with Lisa.”

“Okay,” Dean caves once more but then grabs hold of her, pulling her to his lips. The kiss is fervent and heated and desperate. So fucking desperate. “One for the road,” he says with a painful smile as he draws back. He doesn’t want to admit that it might be the last one they have shared.

Y/N’s look tells him she feels the finality, too. It’s the epilogue of the best book he’s ever read. The end credits of his favorite movie. The final episode of a show he loved.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly with a hesitant lip bite and a harrowing swallow.

“Don’t be. Have fun, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean says and sends her one last weak smile before he watches her walk away with an aching heart.

24. Don't Dream It's Over – May 4

Honestly, even my cold, cold heart weeped at the end there. Poor Dean 😢💔 But as you can guess from next week's title, we're not done yet 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus

Everything Dean: @SnowAyumi

[skiesofrosie]

sometimes, it's hard to be good

pairing: joe liebgott x reader

genre: fluff, conversations about life

a/n: horrendously self-indulgent, but i hope you enjoy.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I don’t think I’m a very good person,” you blurt.

“The fuck?” Joe says, confused.

It weighs on your shoulders like a stack of bricks, a truth that sends your mind into a frenzy. Joe noticed it a few days earlier, the way you started to cook, and wash the dishes, despite the half and half system you both have. The letters you sent to check-in on old acquaintances, despite them having never bothered with you. Your choice of books, a sudden affinity for self-help that you shove into your most hidden shelves.

“Are you having a fuckin’ identity crisis or somethin’?” Joe stopped you, just as you were about to take care of both his and your laundry for the third time that week. “Or do I pick up the chores too slowly, ‘cause I can do better.”

“No! No!” You said, a little flustered, then laughed to cover it up. “I’m just doin’ it all ‘cause I care about you.”

He kissed your forehead then, a little unsure. Truth be told, the overcompensation stems from the lack of doing enough–or at least, feeling like it. Joe is your other half, and he picks up well on his half too. If you cook, he will clean. If you do laundry once, he’ll take care of it next (even if he tends to mix the whites and the colors). But the insecurity seeps into your head like poison, the misbelief now running through your blood, and it makes you shoulder more than you actually can.

You slowed down too, because you realized the need to feel like a good person is inherently selfish. To really be good comes from the choices you make, and sometimes, the greater good requires you to be the villain.

Right now though, that’s all mixed up in your head, which means you feel like a piece of shit.

“Where’d ya get that idea?” He asks, now setting Dick Tracy down to pay you full attention. “Is someone tellin’ ya that shit? ‘Cause I’ll kill a–”

“It’s me,” you interject, shaking your head as you slap your book to your chest. “That's what I think.”

Curiosity washes over, as he furrows his eyebrows together and stares at you as if you’re dumb. The both of you are sitting on your balcony, the sun shining streaks of light across his face, and you wonder if you’re worthy of a man as strong and beautiful as him. 

The summer today is glorious, a little sweat trickling down your temples, but better than the way your nose freezes in the winter. Joe and you have made this a routine every Sunday, afternoons spent outside in each other’s company, to catch up on some reading. Your little apartment faces the San Francisco life, and even if the stench of running gas is discomforting, it’s still home. For Joe, it’s homeostasis; a reminder that the war is now behind him, and the domesticity you both have always dreamed of, is now real.

Today though, in the pits of your overthinking, you’re hardly reading the words as you scan the pages.

“Hey,” he gently probes. “What’s goin’ on up there?”

His fingers are creeping towards yours fiddling with each other on your lap.

“I,” you start, but find it difficult to reason. When his hand slips into yours, squeezing it in encouragement, you continue, but not without a sigh. “I found a photo from when we were in high school, and…I realized how many of them I don’t talk to anymore. Friends that have drifted apart, friends that I’ve cut off, or they’ve cut me off. It got me thinking, really thinking, about all the decisions I’ve made, all the people I’ve loved and lost, all the mistakes I’ve made and it all crashed down on me like I hit a brick wall head-on with your cab.”

You stop mid-thought, paying a good look at him listening intently to you, eyes a twinge downcast.

“It made me think that maybe I’m not doing enough, or I’m doing nothing right. That I’ve been selfish, and I have this urge to uproot my entire life and start afresh,” you finish.

He looks into the distance, fingers still entwined with yours as he collates the rush of thoughts. It makes his heart ache to know that you feel this way, because to him, the world owes you for your kindness. But he admires the way you know when it’s time to abandon your good and patience, because it fails to be returned.

“Joe?” He hears you call.

He speaks. “If that’s your logic, than all of us are fuckin’ shitheads.”

You gawk at his response, sputtering, “what do you mean?”

“Sweetheart,” he says, then turns to you unflinchingly. “I spent three years shooting Krauts just ‘cause I could. I did what I was told, convinced myself that I’d be doing the world a favor. Those were actual fuckin’ choices I made, and now I have to live with ‘em in my head.”

“But,” you say, “those people were shooting at you Joe.”

“Not all of ‘em,” he says, shaking his head. “Not all of ‘em.”

A silence falls over you both. It never occurred to you how difficult it is to actually be good–to make the right decision all the time. Even the sun, with its daylight to the skies, streaming into people’s homes to wake them up for another day, blinds you if you look at it for too long. It burns when you get too close, blazes ‘til there’s a drought.

We are all made up of imperfections, after all.

“We fuck up,” Joe adds, quietly. “Hell, we fuck up with each other too, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile, “you caused all my whites to go pink last week.”

“Hey,” he lets go of your hand to smack you. “I bought ya your favorite cookies at Betty’s to make up for it!”

You can’t help the laugh that breaks loose of you, despite the heaviness in your chest. In an infinite list, one of the reasons you love him is his ability to pull you out of your own mind, and make you laugh ‘til tears pool in your eyes. 

“Seriously though, we ain’t bad people just ‘cause we fuck up. We’re shitheads if we don’t try to do better,” he says, his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles. He throws his other hand up, the comic falling onto the ground. “I try everyday to be a better fuckin’ person, but I slip up. You will too. But at least ya try, you know?”

You know he’s right. Like the chocolate cookies he bought for you to make good on the clothes he ruined; like the moments you apologize to each other in petty fights, and figure out a way to make things better–even if you falter, all there is to it, is taking the next step. So even if you still worry, you can at least do that. And what better than to have Joe Liebgott by your side, a man who will never speak anything less than the truth.

“Baby steps, right?” You nod.

He nods, standing up, walking to you and pulling you to your feet. He slips his arms around your waist, as you cross yours behind his neck, pecking you once, twice, and you’re about to make out with him on your balcony–

‘Til a blaring honk from the road makes you jump apart.

“Fuck!” He yells at the road, and you wince, but with amusement. “I’m tryna get some, okay!”

This time you swat at his shoulder, as he guffaws, starts leaving kisses on your neck. You melt into him.

Baby steps, definitely.

“Oh and sweetheart,” he breathes against your skin, and you hum. “You’re the best fuckin’ person I know on this planet.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

@she-wolf09231982 a little snippet of Joe :D

[cherry-shipping]

one of the (admittedly many) reasons i love love love LOVE my uf and ht self inserts i think is because all the shit i hate about myself is amplified with them and i LOVE them for it. theyre weird gross perverted overbearing annoying creeps who nobody really feels comfortable around. and its the BEST!!!!!!!!! like yeah they suck shit. they dont know anything and theyre genuinely disturbing and disgusting people. arent they just the BEST

[bombuni]

a wild ride

summary: It’s Halloween night. Your friends have decided to take you out and get you drunk, but it’s kind of hard to focus on forgetting when the man you want to forget is standing across the room and flirting with another girl. genre/pairing: kim hongjoong x reader, slight yunho x reader, smut, jealous f2l wc: 4.4k warnings: SMUT, 18+ MDNI!, mentions of weed and drinking, cursing, drunk sex but they’re tipsy at the worst, mean!dom!hongjoong, but he's soft for reader, fem!sub!reader, bratty reader but she gets tamed quick, one instance of edging, finger sucking, name calling (just the use of ‘slut’) they’re both so possessive of each other and jealous it’s crazy bom note: this is my love letter to hongjoong’s bouncy outfit bc we moved on too fast</3 anywhooo THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 1K!!! we hit it like a couple weeks ago but. it’s here now guys. I thank you for liking my works enough to follow and support and nothing will prove my gratitude but I just hope this comes close enough :) please enjoy and thanks once again everyone!!<3 also, here’s a playlist i made and listened to a lot while writing this!

You’re not really sure how your friends managed to talk you into coming out tonight. Much less, how you let Wooyoung drag you into matching costumes with him and San. Now you feel like an idiot standing in a fairly inaccurate rendition of a cat next to a pirate version of Seonghwa and Spider-man Yunho. Wooyoung seems to enjoy matching with you, although, letting everyone in the cramped house know that you three ‘have the best couples costume’ in the party. It’s embarrassing having to pull Wooyoung away from annoyed partygoers every 5 seconds, but he’s already halfway drunk and it’s sort of endearing how he boasts about you.

The night has barely started and whatever poor soul lives here should already be regretting hosting a Halloween party. There’s 4 couples making out in your line of sight, the smell of weed permeates your clothes, and the drunk-off-their-ass people in the middle of the room dancing to a poor remix of Monster Mash are sure to break something. There’s a rank scent that emanates from the wall on which you’re leaning against which makes you think someone’s already thrown up right where your shoulder is touching. Or it could just be Seonghwa’s breath, you’re not really sure.

The overwhelming heat from the bodies stuffed in the room is no comparison to the heat boiling inside of you. The humidity in the air and cacophony of noises do nothing to help your rising irritation. You try to cool it down with the iced drink in your hand, but the only way the warmth will go away is by looking away from Hongjoong-who’s in such a clear view from across the room you’d consider it God’s punishment for your selfish desire-and that’s never really going to happen. Not if he keeps looking at her while he’s dressed like that. That being in an intolerably well-fitting cowboy outfit. It’s obvious he knows he looks good, his forearm resting on the wall above the girl’s head as he leans down to hear her better. To get more intimate, to give her the same enticingly inviting smirk he gives you. Your cup crinlinking harshly in your fist snaps you out of the rage-induced trance. Seonghwa’s knowing smirk is haunting you from the corner of your eye, Yunho on your other side trying and failing to hide the same impish smile.

“You know you can’t actually blow people’s heads off if you stare hard enough, right?” Yunho chuckles, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“Ha, ha,” the sarcasm flows right off of Yunho.

“Someone’s jealous,” Seonghwa’s voice is tinged with a taunt, the smell of alcohol absolutely dripping off of him as he leans into you. You’re fully aware of his drunken intentions to piss you off, but you try your best to be mature and ignore the teasing finger he’s pointing in your face.

“Jesus, are you 12?” Smacking the finger out of your face, he stumbles back in mild surprise.

Yunho’s at least somewhat sober, laughing at the ‘pirate’s’ drunk theatrics, “I have an idea for you-”

Seonghwa lifts his red solo cup in the air and his mouth moves faster than either you or Yunho can process, “You kiss Hongjoong!”

It’s simply impossible for Hongjoong to have heard him from across the room and over the various conversations and the loud music playing, but you still shush and shove Seonghwa in a panic as if he’ll come over and shoot you down right in front of everybody. He pulls the ridiculously fake eyepatch up over his eye to stare at you incredulously, “That was rude,”

Yunho pulls Seonghwa into him, a protective arm landing over him so you won’t slap the alcohol out of his system, “Why don’t you go and, I don’t know, tell Hongjoong you’re in love with him?” He says with a mocking voice, shrugging as if it’s a simple solution.

You scoff at the tall man, “First of all, I am not in love wi-“

All of a sudden, Wooyoung pops up between you and Yunho’s bodies with his drawn-on whiskers completely smudged and cat ears gone, “Hongjoong! You looovveee Hongjoong,” he’s swaying and already moved on to telling you how much he loves you instead when you try to respond. Yunho only smirks at you, I told you so clearly evident on his pale face.

You grumble embarrassedly and glance towards Hongjoong again to make sure he hasn’t heard any of your guys’ conversation , “I don’t.”

Wooyoung hums to the song playing, balance completely lost as he drops all of his body weight onto you and tunes out of the conversation. Seonghwa’s not fairing any better against Yunho, but he’s still trying to tell you what a match you and Hongjoong are.

“All we’re trying to say is that,” Yunho pauses to move Seonghwa’s fingers from his lips, “Hongjoong’s been in a bad mood all night watching you, and now he’s chatting up another girl? I-”

Wooyoung mumbles from where he’s resting on your shoulder, “Something’s fishy,”

Yunho nods, “What he said,”

You roll your eyes for the millionth time that night. A small, naive part of you really, really wants to believe your friends. But they’re drunk, and you’ll admit you’re slightly tipsy. You’ve accepted the fact that Hongjoong will never see you as more than a good friend. You look over to Hongjoong one more time in hopes that this time you won’t feel anything, but when you turn your head you find him already looking in your direction. You can’t really tell what his expression means, but his jaw is clenched and his scrutinizing eyes remain on Wooyoung’s arms around you. It’s no coincidence or trick of the light, you’re sure, but a poorly crafted Batman passes in front of you and Hongjoong’s back to being entranced by the girl next to him.

For a second, you’re lost in space and time. You should be embarrassed and ashamed that one glance from him is enough to send you careening back into fantasies of him, but the alcohol in your system and Yunho’s encouragement makes for a deadly combination. There’s a plan forming in your head. The sober half of you is rationalizing Hongjoong’s glance and telling you it was nothing more than that; a glance. But the tipsy half tells you that you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

As Yunho sips his drink idly, you decide to take your chance, “Wanna dance, Yunho?”

He exhales sharply through his nostrils, smiling smugly because he knows exactly what your intentions are, “Sure, kitty,”

He takes your hand gently and pulls you towards the makeshift dance floor. He bows elegantly as if this is a ballroom, but he looks ridiculous doing it in a Spider-Man costume amidst people of varying states of sobriety. While you’re busy doubled over laughing at him, he sneaks his arms around you. It’s sudden when he pulls you flush against his body, brown eyes searching yours for any uncertainty before pulling your arms around his neck. For some reason, touching the nape of his neck makes you feel a certain closeness to him. Yunho leans his forehead on yours and the intimacy he’s allowing you makes you regret inviting him to dance. He really shouldn’t be pulling out all the stops for a girl who’s thinking of someone else.

Yunho takes your silence as embarrassment from his showiness, “I gotta make it believable, right?” You’ve never really thought about how tall he is until now, head tilted to only focus on you. His big hands wrap around your waist and burn where they touch.

“R-right,” you mumble, still dizzy from Yunho’s closeness.

Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong’s fuming behind the sea of people. Your back is to him so you can’t see the pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows painted on his face. Yunho, on the other hand, gladly takes notice when he finally looks over to him. Hongjoong’s s gone to completely ignoring the girl he was talking to, only humming ‘yeah’s’ and ‘totally’s’ when he’s prompted. He’s burning holes into your back, as if glaring will suddenly remove you from Yunho. The fuse in him blows when you laugh at something Yunho said. The sound is barely heard over the music and myriad of voices, but it still reverberates through Hongjoong like it’s a call to him. Only meant for him.

“It worked,” Yunho whispers into your ear and sends chills down your spine, “Your cowboy’s stomping over.” You look at your Spiderman smiling down at you one last time when you feel a gloved hand on your shoulder. You can’t really see under the strobe lights, but there’s surely no smile on Hongjoong’s face. He’s glaring at Yunho like you’re his property that he’s touched without permission. Yunho’s hands slide slowly off of you compared to the quick removal of yours, just to piss Hongjoong off even more. You’re sure Yunho has another sort of personal vendetta against Hongjoong now.

“Hey, cowpoke,” there’s a lazy drawl in Yunho’s voice, bordering on venomous, “wanna join us?” Yunho’s hands move to wrap around you again, but Hongjoong quickly pulls you back into his side. He’s surprised by how easily you meld into his movements, but he doesn’t know how far you’d really let him go.

“You’re both drunk,” you follow like a lost puppy as he pulls you off the makeshift dance floor, “and need to be separated.”

Yunho hums behind you, “I’m perfectly sober,”

Hongjoong scoffs and as he opens his mouth to retort, you pull away from him, “I wanna keep dancing, Joong,”

Yunho shrugs as if the issue is completely out of his hands-again, what did Hongjoong do to him?-and smiles, “You heard the lady,” Hongjoong’s eyes fixate on the taller man, fists clenching at his side. If looks could kill, Yunho would have been 6 feet under ten minutes ago. His mind races with thoughts of how to get rid of Yunho, how to keep you for himself, and how his hand is still pulsing from when he felt yours, fearing he’s become addicted to your touch already.

His tone is final, “No.”

Before you can even say anything, Hongjoong drags you through the overflow of bodies towards the upstairs of the house. You can certainly hear Seonghwa and Wooyoung hollering obscenities at you-even over the party noise-before Hongjoong leads you deeper and deeper into the surprisingly large house. The hallways grow quieter and less crowded before he finds an empty room, letting you in first. It’s quaint and sparsely decorated, the soft environment settling your nerves. As you sit on the white bedsheets, Hongjoong watches you like you’re his next meal.

He finally speaks, arms crossed and a questioning look on his face, “You good?’

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Yes. Are you?”

He doesn’t answer you because he’s not really sure if he is. In truth, Hongjoong can’t stop looking at you. He’s sure your look tonight is imprinted in his brain all the way from the short, short skirt to the ridiculously low cut top you’re wearing. He’s frustrated with himself that he feels so possessive over you, as if you’re already his. He’s frustrated with you for simply letting Wooyoung and Yunho do as they please.

You watch as he sits on the bed next to you, fiddling with the cuffs of his gloves. He’s trying to act nonchalant, but you can tell he’s holding back from scolding you with the way he’s biting his cheek. He’s good at hiding it from others, but not from you.

His words are short and sharp, “Were you having fun with Yunho?”

The question catches you off guard. You mirror him, playing with your fishnet leggings and watching him out of the corner of your eye. You’re scared he’ll say yes, but you ask anyway, “Were you?”

Hongjoong turns to you, “I asked first,”

You roll your eyes at him, “Whatever. You seemed pretty happy talking to Ms. Boobs-in-your-face,”

You’re being petty and insulting a girl you don’t even know, but the irritation from earlier is returning with a fiery revenge. It keeps building the more you think about the way her hands would continuously run down the textured white lines on his shirt. Or how he’d smile at her like she was the only person in the room. You can feel his eyes on you again and you’re too embarrassed to meet them. You’re sure he’s sporting a cocky smile now that he’s heard the jealousy dripping in your voice.

“You didn’t seem to mind Yunho grinding on you,” he spits out before he can stop himself.

That finally makes you look at him, “He was not-”

“And Wooyoung’s hands all over you,”

You gawk at him, surprised to know that he had been watching you too. Now the pettiness you’re both showing is obvious. The air is tense before you speak, Hongjoong’s intent glare making you feel small, “You know how Wooyoung is, especially when he’s drunk,”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you, “Doesn’t explain Yunho crawling all over you,”

You cross your arms, inadvertently pushing your tits together and Hongjoong has to hold back a groan, “Why are you so concerned with what Yunho and I do?”

There’s a mutual understanding of the jealousy coursing through the room, though it’s unspoken. In your anger, however, you can’t really process the fact that he’s possessive over you. That he’s outright admitting he thinks of you as his, and vice versa. Instead of simply kissing and making up, you keep pissing each other off. Why you keep pressing his buttons you’re not sure, but you can’t deny how hot Hongjoong looks with the black cowboy hat tilted over his face, muscular arms tensing under the dim light.

He stands to his full height again-too frustrated to stay still-moving so that he’s right in front of you, “What, so you’re into Yunho all of a sudden?”

“Did you just bring me up here so you can interrogate me on my love life?” you mumble.

His jaw clenches again, “You’re so mouthy tonight, you know that? I’m getting sick of it,”

He’s invading your space now, lips so close you could just reach up and touch them with yours, “What are you going to do about it, Hongjoong?”

The words seem to set something off in him, his lips on you so fast it’s dizzying. His warm hands automatically find their way to your hips as he pushes you backwards onto the bed. He’s finally figured out how to silence you, muffling any sounds you make with his mouth. Anything that comes from you, he wants for himself. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, both too focused on getting out all the built up feelings and frustration. Neither of you care about anything but getting more and more of each other. You feel his tongue finding its way into your mouth and you don’t put up much of a fight anymore.

He doesn’t pause his attack on your lips, panting while he speaks, “You gonna keep mouthing off, baby?”

Your mind short-circuits at the nickname. Although a large part of your annoyance has now dissipated, his lips like water to soothe the burn of your desire, you still want to see how far you can push him,

“Dunno,” you pant out.

His right hand slides up from your hip bone to your jawline as goosebumps follow the trail of his touch. A whine slips out of you when Hongjoong’s hand contracts, squishing your cheeks and forcing your lips into a pout so your focus is on his words. He can’t help the prideful smirk when he hears the noise you make, happy to know he has such an effect on you.

“I know,” a kiss to your jawline, “I’m going to show you who you belong to,”

You wiggle in his grasp, but he’s holding you tight, “And exactly who do I belong to?”

He smirks down at you, thoughts running through all the ways he’s going to break you, “Oh, you’re funny,” he leans threateningly over you, “You’re very funny,”

Just because you enjoy the game of stirring him on you continue, “Yunho said the same thing,”

He smiles dangerously at you. Not dangerous in the sense of attractiveness, but more in the sense that it’s a warning to the vicious, envious territory you’re entering. You feel your resolve melting against him, the air suffocating you with the thick, heavy feeling of pent-up desire. However, he doesn’t even let you get the right words out before he sticks his thumb into your mouth. It’s surprisingly appetizing, and you don’t wait for his sign to go before wrapping your lips around it. It’s your silent apology for what you said.

Now, his smile is gentler. But it’s Hongjoong, and Hongjoong doesn’t let things go so easy.

“Sluts needs to be quiet,” he whispers softly, but it’s who it’s coming from that makes it so you hear it loud and clear. You nod in obedience, still lapping as he adds more fingers into your mouth, exploring this part of your body.

“You know what else sluts need to do?” You shake your head and open your eyes up at him, “They need to fucking behave.”

He growls, “You’re gonna take what I give you until I’ve had enough. Then I’ll give you what you want,”

You want to whine and protest, but he’s looking at you like that’s not even an option. He stares down at you, taunting and challenging you. Hongjoong knows you’re not happy about his rules, but he doesn’t care. You need to learn to forget about anyone other than him. He won’t stop until you do. Your mouth pulls off of his fingers with a pop and you realize all too quickly what a mistake you’ve made.

His eyes squint at you, “Did I tell you to stop?”

You peer up at him with a guilty look, pout heavy on your lips hoping he’ll show just the slightest bit of mercy. But once again, it’s Hongjoong. He manhandles you towards him, back to his chest and for some reason it feels like you’re a complete puzzle.

He gropes your sides, pulling you close so you can feel how hard he is for you. The feeling of him rubbing against you makes you moan, the sheer satisfaction of finally getting what you want making you high on the pleasure. You know you’re supposed to be quiet, but the excitement of going against Hongjoong just ‘cause makes you want to do it more.

You spot his blue hair out of the corner of your eye as he leans down to your ear, “You’re gonna be quiet and take it like a good slut,” His right arm comes up and around your neck, pulling you in as if you aren’t already close enough, “Unless you want Yunho to hear?”

His clothed dick is making you weak. It’s the only friction he’s given you so far and it’s already breaking and tearing you apart. You shake your head vigorously, spouting nonsense babbles as if you’re appalled Hongjoong would even suggest that. However, Hongjoong seems all too enticed by the idea of everyone hearing how loud he can make you. You try to get more from him by rutting back into him, hoping he liked your answer, but he stops your hips.

“Sluts don’t get what they want, baby,” He pants into your ear and you realize he’s just as torn as you are, he’s just better at hiding it. His hand finds its way under your skirt, fumbling to pull your panties down. The sound of your wet pussy fills the room as Hongjoong plays with your folds, agonizingly slow to make you shake with anticipation.

He smiles down at you, “You’re so fucking wet,”

Before you can say anything snappy, he slides in you. He fills you just right, and you don’t want to sound crazy, but you feel like your pussy was sculpted just for him. His cock drives in you and hits right where you need it to. It makes you want to fall over, too weak to hold yourself up, but Hongjoong stops that from even happening.

You’re whining for more, “Keep being loud and Wooyoung will hear you,”

You gasp as he thrusts in you, but it just spurs him on. Being buried in you feels right, like it’s where he was made to be. He chalks up his intensified feelings to the alcohol flowing in his system.

Your moans mix together, “Seonghwa too? Want me to make everyone in this house know who’s fucking you?”

You can barely keep your head up, much less respond to him. The bed squeaks as he thrusts in you over and over again, limbs entangled. You start to think Hongjoong may have some jealousy issues, but you don’t mind.

His hand snakes around you again, this time reaching to play with your clit. His fingers make your knees buckle, the rhythm between his hips and his hand sending a new wave of pleasure through you. You don’t have the energy to process it, but all the while he’s telling you how he’s the only one who can touch you like this.

Your lower half is on fire, white hot sparks of pleasure flowing all the way from your abdomen to your toes. All of your senses are heightened because of Hongjoong’s touch and you feel the pleasure reaching its tipping point, right before Hongjoong rips his hand away and stops his hips.

Your complaint is right on the tip of your tongue, but Hongjoong drags you like a ragdoll over him before you can get the words out. Your senses haven’t even come back to you yet, but Hongjoong looks up at you with the cockiest smile and you feel that same bliss again.

His hands on your hips turns your nervous system on again, “You wanna cum, baby?”

Your voice comes out hoarse, “Yes. Yes, please, Joongie,”

He looks up at you contemplatively, as if deciding whether you deserve to finish or not. It makes a defiant whine build up in your throat the longer he takes.

He shushes you with a nudge, “Then work for it.”

Hongjoong’s tone is final and even though you’re on top of him, there’s no room for control or for arguing. He looks up at you expectantly, simply waiting for you to obey. You want to grab his collar, make him regret talking to you like he owns you, but unfortunately he in fact does.

The cowboy hat is befitting now, so you take it for yourself. His blue hair is disheveled and tangled underneath it, but he still looks celestial. A laugh rips out of him as the hat tips over your head when you look down. You pout at him, but the giggles slip into groans when you slide down him again.

It’s entirely too distracting for Hongjoong, and he has to bite his lip to hold back from cumming on the spot. You’re too tight and wet, too perfect for him. He almost regrets putting you in this position now.

But you look too good all sweaty on top of him, mouth parted open in satisfaction, with the sound of skin against skin accompanying you. Watching you bounce with his hat on makes him feel a little crazy.

His hand reaches for your clit again, finding that spot that he’s learned your body really likes. Your back arches against his fingers, shuddering at the feeling of him. His fingers follow a pattern against you, persistent in their goal to make you cum. It’s too good, too fast. You can’t help it as your body falls over him, pleasure overriding your ability to function.

Hongjoong laughs at you, “Can't do anything on your own, huh? Dumb slut needs me to help,” You nod against his neck, hiding your embarrassed blush.

He, uncharacteristically, kisses the crown of your head. You suppose it’s an apology for the way he hauls your thighs over him, then slams you back down on his cock again. Once again, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. You feel the heat rising in you again, your body tightening up against Hongjoong.

This time there’s no signs of him stopping, his forearms keeping a tight hold of your thighs as he spears you on his cock over and over again, his desperate pants right by your ear.

He senses you’re near your tipping point, “See? All you needed was a good fucking for you to behave,”

You nod brainlessly, simply following whatever he says with only one thing on your mind.

“You can cum, baby. Want you to be loud so even fucking Yunho knows,”

You feel it coursing through you. It’s been a slow build up waves caused by Hongjoong, but now with his permission it turns into a full-on tsunami hitting you. The pleasure shoots through you, your entire body seizing up as it takes over you. Hongjoong fucks you through it with slow, shallow thrusts. Or at least he tries to, before the feeling of your tightening pussy finally pulls the orgasm out of him. He’s quick to pull out, his cum splattering all over his lower abdomen.

When you’re done, you’re left panting and sweaty on his still shirt-clad chest. You feel his racing heartbeat against your hands, heavy breaths beating against you. You look up and Hongjoong has the softest, tranquil smile for you.

“I only danced with Yunho to make you jealous,” you mumble amidst the silence.

His hand runs through your hair under his hat, “I only flirted with that girl to make you jealous,”

You’re scared by how soft and intimate it’s suddenly turned. You’re scared Hongjoong only thinks of you as a fuck buddy now, nothing more nothing less. So, You don’t say anything else.

He knows you by now, knows where every cog in your brain goes and how it works. Hongjoong pokes your cheek gently, “That means I like you a lot,”

“Oh,” you feel your heartbeat pick up speed, “me too.”

“Good,” he smiles at you again, that charming and sugary sweet smile he only gives you, “then we’ll go on a date.” You nod into him, blissful peace finally settling over you.

You’re halfway to sleep when Hongjoong speaks up again, “Can I have my hat back?”

[cinnamoneve]

𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚.

atelophobia \ əˌtɛləˈfəʊbɪə \ (n.) - the fear of imperfection of not being good enough.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru's been valued only what he could offer others, until he met you. ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 1.3k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: more of a self indulgent character study to get back into the swing of writing !!! pls enjoy <3 ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :3

satoru gojo held many roles and titles in his life. he was a son, a sorcerer, teacher, role model, a special grade, the honored one, the strongest. the strongest. whatever that was supposed to mean.

he knew what it meant, sure, but the lines were blurred a bit around the parameters of what exactly his role was. he was satoru, gojo-san, gojo-sensei, and whatever sweet term of endearment you thought up for him. between that, satoru’s identity and purpose got muddled as the titles and meaning were ever-changing.

he didn’t feel a certain way about any of it, really. or so he thought. the one accolade satoru couldn't claim was being totally indifferent.

you almost admired that aspect of him. how his nose scrunched up when something he eats tastes off, how he played with his blindfold when he needed to get something off his chest. or maybe, it was the way his eyebrow twitched ever-so-slightly if you pronounce a word in a funny way. there is no subtle, subdued, or nonchalant bone in your boyfriend’s body. everything on his mind was said before his mouth even opened.

because of that, you knew satoru was happy to be home by the way he refused to leave your side. it’s rare he gets a decent break like this; his students had a week-long retreat in kyoto that he’d meet them at eventually. for now, he had some small ends to tie up on the homefront that he was dragging out so he could stay a bit longer with you.

satoru sat on the edge of the empty bath, admiring you as you did your skincare at the vanity. if his legs weren’t long enough to touch the ground, you imagined he’d be swinging them back and forth as he gushed about his students.

“...and maki beat mai in a one-on-one. again.”

you rolled your eyes as you clipped hair away from your forehead, “even i could’ve predicted that.”

“i don’t know why those two always find each other if they’ve got such a grudge,” 

you patted your face dry.

“it must be a sister thing,” you chuckled.

“something like that, i guess,”

“you’re not upset you’re missing it?”

satoru studied you in silence as he let the question linger a bit more. part of him was. maybe more than just part of him. he let out a hum as he thought about it.

“not really,” he concluded, “i want to be here,”

you smiled at him through the mirror as you caught his eyes. 

“it’s okay to be both, babe. be as selfish as you want,”

was it really okay for him to be selfish? nobody had ever told him before that the choice was his. even if it always was.

satoru had spent a lot of time being what other people said he should be. unfortunately, most aspects of his personality and day-to-day life were not decided by him. maybe it was atonement for the way he acts. could it be his fault? is it punishment for the gift he didn’t ask for? it’d be rich to still call it a gift. it was more like a plague, or a curse. something he had to bear and live with, master and hone. 

it was admired, it was hated. it controlled him, he controlled it.

everything he was, fundamentally, came from what he could provide.

satoru didn’t realize how exhausting it was until you came along and shared the burden with him. silently, lovingly, and effortlessly. maybe he was a little selfish. was it selfish to miss his kids in kyoto while having the love of his life in front of him? or maybe it was selfish to relish in the time at home and drag it out for one more minute with you.

being in between is lonely. 

but the loneliness will pass, just like time always does anyway. and being lonely with you is still being with you in the first place.

satoru sank into the empty bath, letting his body fold as he lay across the width of it. he sighs heavily and smiles, closing his eyes. his drama was unsurprising–all you can do is shake your head and take his place on the edge of the bath.

he peers up at you.

“selfish, huh?” 

you place your hand on his knee, thumbing over where it bends as a way to soothe him.

“mhm, why not?”

satoru tilted his head back, just barely, looking up at the bathroom fan as he tried to think about what to say next.

“i’d like to stay like this for a bit longer,”

you smile warmly at him.

“in the bath? clothed like this?”

it wasn’t about the empty bath. or the clothes he was wearing. just like how it wasn’t about him learning about your skincare routine. it was never about the stories of his students, or the way you always checked in on megumi. nor was it about how you took all of his clothes when you were cold, knew how he liked his coffee in the morning, or the way he made sure the bed was nice and warm before you joined him there.

it was so much more in so much less. in his worst moments, he was in a warm bed with you, hearing you talk about your refreshingly mundane day as you drew a nonsensical pattern on his chest.

everything he was came from what he could provide, right? that’s how it always was.

what he inherited preceded his name, his personality, and everything nuanced about him. nearly everyone in his life cared more about his ability than anything else about him. he’s convinced people knew his technique more than they knew his favorite color. the music he liked. his favorite food. trivial things overshadowed by what he could provide. 

but the only thing he had to provide to you was love.

to you, who he was came from what he could provide. and that was pure, warm love.

he was matching pajamas, two cups of coffee waiting to be filled, two toothbrushes sitting together on the counter. he was the seat warmer that he always turned on for you when you rode in the passenger seat, along with the playlist he made with songs you listened to together.

it was refreshing. 

with you, he wasn’t satoru gojo. not the strongest, not gojo-sensei, not a special grade sorcerer. 

he was him. and it was always enough for you. 

satoru when you were doubled over from another lame joke he told, begging him to stop making you laugh so hard.

baby when he had a particularly hard day at work, holding onto your body on the couch like detaching from it would kill him.

sweetie when he was being ridiculous, dramatic, and over-the-top, watching a smile tug at your lips as he intentionally got on your nerves when you tried to hide it.

honey when you didn’t feel well, and he got to spoil you more than you’d ever let him before.

among a million other things. but never what you expected of him. 

most importantly, and his favorite, was when you called him love. is that what you really saw him as? it made him melt. the jujutsu world hardened him, but you turned a blind eye to that. it was enough to make him fall in love every day all over again.

what a privilege, he thought, to be so calloused and still love.

“yeah, in the bath like this,” he muttered.

you slid in next to him, folding your body too so the two of you were sitting in the cold, empty bath with your legs sticking out of the side.

“well, i’ll join you then, love”

there it was. he hummed contently. 

satoru felt like for a majority of his life, he felt like he had to search for his other half. seemingly, he was whole all along.

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[holybibly]

I'm so embarrassed to be asking this but I'm super horny after reading your posts...

I followed you without even knowing it myself...

but

I realised I've got a daddy kink and yunho mingi and san now know about it...🥺

It's totally okay if you can't write it!🫶

I make you feel like horny bunnies, don't I? What am I going to do about it, darlings?"

"Do you like your gift, princess?" Yunho's voice is soft as he places his large hand on your neck, his thumb running along the thin, delicate chain. The gold chain, with his and San's initials on it, jingles slightly as he touches it, glistening in the light.

You are sitting comfortably on top of Yunho's thick thighs, your bare legs wrapped around his waist, while your hands are fiddling with the smooth tie around his neck. He is so comfortable to sit on; he is so tall and magnificent. How did you get to be so lucky as to have him all to yourself? And not just to him—San's strong arms wrap around your waist, and you lean back against his strong chest and literally melt into his arms.

"I really like it, Daddy." The words you speak are full of sincerity. Having powerful and stunningly handsome men like San and Yunho worship and care for you is a true dream come true. They are always ready to reassure you that they love to pamper and spoil you with everything they have, should you ever doubt whether you are worthy of their attention. Both of them are willing to do anything for you and to buy you anything you want to make sure that their sweet little princess is happy and well fed.

They are even willing to swallow some of their selfishness and possessiveness in order to get along with each other for your sake. They don't like it very much, and sometimes the air between them can be tense. But in a way, they also care for each other, perhaps more than they let on.

"Thank you, daddy." You tug lightly on Yunho's black tie, pulling his face closer so that you can kiss him gently on his soft, beautiful lips. "Thank you very much, sir." You lift your head and do the same to San. But before you can pull away, San catches your lips in his for a deeper, hotter kiss that takes the air out of your lungs. He grabs hold of the back of your neck and throws your head back so he can swallow you whole. When he pulls away, you're a little dazed. San's kisses always make you feel dizzy. San's love language is long, sensual kisses that always turn into a worship of your body with his lips and tongue. Each time he kisses you, he sends you up into the ninth cloud of pleasure.

A thin, silver strand of saliva connects the two of you until San runs his thumb roughly over your bottom, shining pink lip. He presses lightly against the soft flesh in a silent command. San chuckles softly as you obediently open your mouth to allow your tongue to wrap around the pad of his thumb.

"Our beautiful princess deserves nothing but the best." San whispers, watching with delight as your kitten tongue sweetly licks his finger while you look up at him with big, shining eyes. To him, you are a real treasure.

Yunho pulls impatiently at your hips so that San's thumb slips out of your warm, wet mouth. Yunho's big hand comes back to rest on your throat, and he leans forward, brushing his lips gently against yours for a moment before he slides his hot tongue into your mouth. You let out a long moan into his lips as you felt warm and insistent hands dancing over your body from behind you. The kiss is dirty and sloppy, just the way Yunho likes it to be. You can always feel the difference between them. San is quiet and calm; he slowly drives you crazy with his touches, preferring to prolong the pleasure for hours. Yunho, on the other hand, is passionate, hot, and impatient; he likes to take you rough and fast. He was like an icy flame, while San was like scorching ice.

Your lips were swollen and red as he pulled back to lick your mouth, and taking advantage of your distraction, San slipped his fingers under the waistband of your lace panties.

"You're so wet for us, baby. Always ready to please us." You can hear the smirk in San's voice as he runs his fingers over your slit in an almost lazy manner.

Yunho loosens the tie around his neck, and this seemingly ordinary act makes you start to salivate. The gaze of his dark eyes is completely focused on your face, which is now frozen with an expression of sweet pleasure. Your body becomes almost boneless, and you lean further back against San's hard, muscular chest as his fingers separate your labia, spreading the fluid that has collected between them over your delicate folds.

"Keep your eyes open, my sweet princess." San's voice is hoarse and full of desire as his hot breath hits your ear. Your eyes close at the pleasure his fingers give you. He's supporting your entire body weight, even though you're sitting on Yunho's lap, and his other hand is gently squeezing your breast, pulling down the thin lace of your bra, and exposing your swollen pink nipple to your daddy's dark gaze. He continues: "Keep your eyes on Yunho while Sir makes you cum on his fingers, Princess. Do you understand what I mean?"

As you followed your sir's instructions, your eyes immediately opened. Yunho has already removed his tie, which you partly regret; the first few buttons of his white shirt are undone, revealing his milky smooth skin, where hickeys always look too beautiful for your mind; and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. You admire his bare forearms, which allow you to shamelessly observe the muscles and veins that flex just beneath the skin. His normally sparkling puppy-dog eyes are dark with lust, hungrily drinking in every move you make, every change in the expression on your face, and every sweet little sound that escapes from your parted lips.

You spread your legs a little wider so that Yunho can get a better view of your wet, pink pussy. His eyes quickly moved from your pretty face to your barely covered cunt. Your sheer white lace panties are soaking wet from your excitement and are pushed to the side to make way for San's long and skilled fingers.

San plants hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck, biting and sucking hard on your skin as you tilt your head to the side to give him more access. At some point in your relationship, you realized that San had an oral fixation, and this fact was a pleasant bonus for you.

"Oh, sir, I feel so good. You make me feel so good." You whimper loudly, digging your long, manicured nails into the fabric of Yunho's white shirt. You moan as San slides two long fingers into your wet cunt and curls them up until you can almost see the stars in the sky.

"Don't close your eyes, baby; let your daddy enjoy the slutty look on your sweet face." You obediently look at Yunho, and your pussy involuntarily clenches around San's fingers as you see him look. You feel the searing heat of desire pooling and spreading throughout your body as Yunho seems to be devouring every inch of you.

Yunho leans forward, his face hovering just a few inches above yours. His eyes are so dark that the pupils seem to absorb the warm chocolate irises almost completely. He touches your lips with two fingers, and you immediately open your mouth to him and lift your face to his.

"You are such a beautiful princess and such an obedient girl for us to have." Yunho whispers in a hoarse voice before spitting into your waiting mouth. A glob of saliva slips along the length of your tongue, and you quickly swallow it, drawing a hum of approval from San, who is still marking your neck with his lips, and a low groan from Yunho. His hand lands on your neck once more, forcing San to finally stop sucking on the crimson hickeys on your delicate skin, and he presses his lips to yours.

It's messier than the first time you kissed, and even hotter and messier. Yunho's tongue is hungrily licking the inside of your mouth as drool starts to collect at the corners of your mouth. He slides his hand between your bodies, the pads of his fingers circling your sensitive clit. San's fingers slide along the quivering soft walls of your needy cunt, curling and hitting that special spot inside you that leaves you breathless and your toes curling. 

The firm pressure of Yunho's fingers rubbing against your clit and the way San's fingers push deep into your dripping cunt, causing your sweet juices to drip down his fingers and onto his palm and wrist, quickly bring you to the edge.

"Be a good girl and cum for us, Princess." San's words send you over the edge, and you cum loudly, moaning their names as you do so. You bury your face in Yunho's neck and ride out your orgasm, your hips jerking at their touches. Their fingers are persistent and never stop moving. They prolong the stimulation and practically make you come a second time. It's only when you're on the verge of overstimulation and you're whimpering softly that they slow down. But they don't remove their fingers; instead, they stimulate you with slow, lazy strokes.

"You look so goddamn hot when you cum, Princess." You giggle a little while Yunho just rolls his eyes as San sucks on your neck once more, leaving another hickey on your skin.

"And you will look even hotter and more beautiful when you cum on our dicks, don't you, Princess?" Yunho asks.

"Yes, Daddy, I will do everything I can to make you and Sir happy with my view."

[ponderingmoonlight]

Imma be an anon cause I'm bit scared . I fell in love with the way u write.

May I get a Headcanon with nanami if you're comfortable 🥺

A hurt /comfort where NANAMI raised his voice at reader which lead reader to distance him for a long period?

You can go anything with the plot . Thank you!

Hey honey, I'm not writing headcanons atm because I'm not comfortable with, but I decided to turn this into a full on fic instead - hope you like it, let me know! ♡

Nanami Kento raising his voice at you

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: He had no other choice but to scream at you in the middle of a fight, snapping at you like he never did before. It took both of you a few weeks to realize that you can't be with each other...

Warnings: Listen, I adore the gentleman Nanami fics (as you can see on my own blog lol) but it was so much fun to let this man snap as well, to let his temper show once, this is a classy hurt to comfort with some angst - enjoy!

„Don’t do it, (y/n). You’ll get yourself in serious danger. Stay behind me and let me handle this.”

You huff in sheer frustration, eyes piercing through the back of his perfect undercut. Why? Why isn’t Kento Nanami able to trust you? You are a grade 1 sorcerer just like he is, so skilful with handling your sword that even Gojo is impressed by your abilities. But despite all of that, he positioned himself in front of you instantly when that special grade curse appeared, blocking every minor attack that might come your way.

Oh, how much you love that man, how much you adore the way he cares about you deeply. It’s not a secret to anyone how you feel for each other, how your eyes light up when he enters the room, how his gaze instantly softens for only you.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle this myself.”

But this is too much. Damn, you’ve been a jujutsu sorcerer as long as he is, constantly training to get better and better. It’s not fair to lock you out of this fight when your-

“Stop contradicting me all the time!”

The sharp tone in his usual calm voice makes you flinch, body moving backwards automatically when he turns around. His eyes are cold, so cold that your blood seems to freeze in your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, especially not when it comes to you. That sweet and tender man with a face that doesn’t show any emotion most of the time now looks down at you with venom spitting from his orbs, arms so tight that his veins look like they’ll burst any minute.

“This is too big for you. Now do me a favour and stay.in.line.”

“But I’m-“

“ENOUGH!”

“Kento!”

“You are acting like a stupid child! Now do what I said!”

You are lost at words, eyes staring into his furious ones until he turns around and hunts after the blue-haired curse named Mahito again.

A wave of agony washes over you before you can stop it, body feeling numb. It’s ridiculous to be hurt about his words, surely he didn’t mean to raise his voice at you, but still…

You swallow hard. But still it fucking hurts. Since you’ve known him, Kento never snapped at you. Not once, not in a million lifetimes. He was always tender when expressing his opinion just like you are. Yes, there were never heated arguments, cruel words or loud voices from any of you. But he just broke that unsaid rule.

He really hit you where it hurts.

-back at jujutsu high-

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Your fingers ruffle through the pink hair in front of you gently, eyes scanning over Yuji’s bruised body. What an impressive boy he is. How did he manage to break through this sphere, to almost end that curse? For a new jujutsu sorcerer, he is remarkably skilled - and a true sweetheart on top.

“I’m doing fine, don’t worry about me, (y/n)-san. How are you feeling? You seem so…I don’t know, different I guess. Are you alright?”

You force a small smile onto your shaky lips. Is it selfish that you can’t forget the way Kento barked at you, that he basically told you you are too weak for this fight? You wish you were better than that, strong enough to outstand your self-seeking feelings and visit him in the hospital wing.

But you simply can’t. Not right now. Not when his stinging voice is still so present in your mind.

“Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Hey, how you’re doing, sweet cheeks? Nanami is asking for you, are you free?”

You swallow away the big lump forming in your throat, eyes not daring to look up at her.

“Actually, I still have to tell Gojo what happened. Thank him for his invitation, I have to keep going.”

You need to get out of here as fast as possible, away from the stinging gaze of Shoko who knows exactly something’s up, who eyes you up and down. As if in trance you storm out of the hospital wing, straight into the burning hot sunlight, heart pumping so hard against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any possible minute.

“ENOUGH!”

His voice still echoes through your head, makes you feel like a child again. Kento never looked at you this coldly, without any emotion in his usual so soft orbs. What on earth did you do to upset him like this? After all, you were on countless missions together before, defeated multiple grade 1 curses side by side. What was different this time? Was it Yuji, the bad weather? Why did he decide to scream at you like this?

“What are you doin’ here? I was already on my way to look after you in the hospital wing. Aren’t ya supposed to be by Nanami’s side?”

Your heart stops for a minute. Fuck, Gojo Satoru and his cheeky smile are definitely the last thing you need right now. If he only knew how much his words make your heart sting in agony, how much strength it costs you to act like nothing happened. You know how ridiculous it must be, avoiding the love of your life over some random words and a harsh tone.

But you can’t help it.

“I was on my way to report about the mission”, you explain briefly.

“Is there something you need to tell me? C’mon, you can’t even look at me (y/n).”

Your glossy eyes dart towards Gojo. God, how pathetic you feel. Why aren’t you able to just get over it and move on? Why are you making things so hard for both you and Kento, standing here on the brink of tears instead of being by his side?

“I can’t have it right now, Gojo. Just leave me alone.”

But despite the way your heart aches for him, you continue walking towards your dorm. That stone cold look on his face, the way he clenched his fists.

“This is too big for you.”

“You are acting like a stupid child.”

You shake your head violently. No, you aren’t able to simply forgive and forget what you saw that mission. This man wasn’t the Kento Nanami you know and love, not the man you thought he was. What if it was all a lie? What if this is what he really sees in you? A weakling, a dumb child.

Breathe in, breathe out, don’t lose your composure.

“I need some time for myself…”

-a few weeks later-

Kento hates it with every fiber of his being. Waking up in the morning, your face still present in his sleep-drunken mind until reality hits him. Since he lashed out, you didn’t talk more than a few necessary sentences with him. And even though you don’t seem to be cold and distant, everything just changed.

Oh, if he could turn back time, if he was able to take back all those things he said to you. He should have stopped when you flinched backwards, should have stopped when your eyes turned glossy. But he knew your life was in serious danger, that Mahito is no curse to be messed with. The decision between hurting your feelings or watching you die…

At least you’re safe. At least Mahito was too focused on finishing him to even involve you into his sphere. This should be everything he cares about, it’s only naturally that you are hurt. But still…What would he do to hold you again, what would he do for you to smile at him as brightly as you did back then. He misses you with his whole heart.

“You could just try talking to her, y’know? I bet (y/n) might understand”, Gojo tries to cheer him up, legs laying stretched out on the table between them.

“I don’t want to force myself onto her. After all, I deserve her anger and disappointment.”

And oh, it was written on your face. The way your trembling lips parted, how your eyes widened just the slightest when his words hit you like a train.

“C’mon, don’t be so hard on yourself-“

“I hurt her. And I will never forgive myself for doing that”, he interrupts the white-haired man determined.

“Well, could you forgive yourself if she got killed?”

Nanami lets out his breath, simply stares into the distance. Of course Gojo is right. Damn, he doesn’t regret his decision. But still…

It hurts.

“Sorry. Do you have a minute to…talk?”

His heart stops beating. There you stand, nervously picking on your nails while you look at him. God, he always looks so fine. Why on earth does he have to look so fine? No, you have to focus. After all, you are here to talk things out. These last weeks were nothing but torture for you, your heart bleeding waterfalls every time you saw him. Oh, you never knew you were able to crave someone else this badly.

But there you are, standing in the door like an idiot.

“You sure can! I’m doing…some other stuff I guess. See ya!”

Within the blink of an eye, Gojo is gone in the wind and leaves you alone with him.

“You don’t have to stand there. Please, sit down.”

That gentle tone you know you well, his inviting voice that makes your stomach drop from time to time. With wobbly legs, you cross the room to sit opposite to him on the still warm chair of Gojo.

What are you supposed to say? How are you supposed to act? Your mind goes blank, forgets every little piece of conversation you trained these last days. Fuck, why are you even here? Maybe you should just leave-

He grabs your hand.

Nanami Kento grabs your hand.

“Let me apologize for the things I said to you back then. It was in no way right to snap at you like that. But when I saw what Mahito is able to do, when I realized he is far better than all the other special grade courses I ever encountered…(y/n), it might sound selfish, but all I could think about was saving you.”

You stare at him in utter disbelief, heart beating out of your chest. Did he…did he really say that?

“You…wanted to save me…”

“You are a skilled jujutsu sorcerer, probably better than me. But if it wasn’t for Yuji, I would be dead by now. To think that you might die…I couldn’t take it, (y/n). You are everything to me.”

“Everything…”

“This might be the wrong moment, the worst timing for saying such things. But I love you, (y/n). I loved you with all my heart for ages, love you for everything you are. Even though you aren’t able to forgive me what I said, even though you don’t want to see me again…(y/n), I love you.”

The countless nights you kept yourself awake pondering about how he feels for you, the countless nights his words echoed through your heart. The countless nights you thought you interpreted his affection wrong, that he doesn’t feel the same.

Vanished into thin air.

Nothing but a fade whisper in the darkness.

“These last weeks you were all I could think about. I thought you might not feel the same, that you might not be the person I thought you were-“

He squeezes your hands firmly, the troubled ocean of his eyes getting lost in yours.

“I’m not able to put my feelings into words the way you deserve it, (y/n). But I know for sure that I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

You snap. All these nights without him, the grief you were put through, his gorgeous face close enough to touch while you couldn’t allow yourself to. With a swift motion you crawl over the table that divides the two of you, closing the distance of these past weeks with a kiss.

A kiss that contains all the anger, the disappointment and the affection you hold for him. That gorgeous man who swept you off your feet. That gorgeous man who showed a side you’ve never seen before, who risked his own life in order to save yours.

Nanami Kento.

“God, I love you (y/n). I love you so much”, he mutters against your lips, hands pressing you firmly against his warm body.

“I don’t want to let go again.”

He smiles against your mouth, eyes gleaming like the sun itself.

“Then don’t”.

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

[wannabeschyulersister]

so long, chicago

Without the warmth of your things in the apartment, it looked sad and cold. The boxes that you packed were stacked along the hallway. Movers were scheduled to help you in the next hour.

Your belongings would be traveling across the country with you following.

After one last sweep of the apartment to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything, you stood at the large bay window facing the city. A city that you once considered home.

You’d miss Chicago. You’d miss the people that you’d met. The connections that you formed. The memories. The laughter.

The sound of the front door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned and saw Carmen walk in. You didn’t expect for him to be home anytime soon. You’d hoped that you could avoid the last interaction.

“Hey.” You said softly.

He nodded, “I thought you’d be halfway outta town by now.”

“The movers should be here any minute.”

Carmen took off his coat and placed it on the right hook near the door. Yours would normally go on the left but it was currently sitting on top of one of your suitcases.

“Richie said you stopped by the restaurant last night.”

“Yeah, I wanted to tell him goodbye.”

“I guess that’s nice.”

“You guess?”

“What do you expect for me to say, (Y/n)? I love that you’re abandoning me and everyone you’ve met here?”

“Abandoning you?” You couldn’t believe that he really said that.

“We’ve been together for six fuckin’ years! One day you wake up and realize you don’t want to be with me anymore out of the fuckin’ blue!”

“Out of the blue?,” you raised your voice, “Carmen, I dreaded making that decision for months! You were so out of touch that you didn’t even realize that we had stopped acting like a couple long before I ending things.”

Carmen chuckled bitterly, “That’s not true.”

You hadn’t planned on leaving on ugly terms with Carmen. If anything, you wanted it to be civil. You were huge parts of each other’s lives. Under all of the pain and heartbreak, there was love.

“I was the only person trying in this relationship. You would get home at one or two in the morning and I’d try waiting around just so we can have a conversation after not seeing each other all day. I planned date nights and tried to pry you out of that kitchen to notice that I was practically falling apart at the seams!” You confessed. It hurt you that he hadn’t even noticed.

“Relationships are hard! That why you have to make them work!” Carmen was visibly upset at how the conversation was going.

“I was the only one fighting for this, Carmen! When was the last time you bought me flowers or texted me to see how my day was going? I barely even heard an ‘I love you’.”

“I do love you. So much that I don’t want you to go and move to San Diego. You belong here with me and- and with your friends. People that care about you!”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough. I’m tired, Carmen. Tired of feeling like I don’t mean shit to you. I need to be with someone that wants to be with me. I want someone that won’t make me feel alone when we are together.”

Carmen closed the space between you two. It was the closest he’d been to you in days. He still smelled of the cologne that you bought him for Christmas with a faintness of the cigarette he must’ve smoked before.

“I thought we’d spend the rest of our lives together.” He said softly.

“If you thought so, then why aren’t we married? I’ve had friends in shorter relationships that have taken the next step. I’ve waited for so long for you to ask me to be your wife and every anniversary that passes, I know that it’s not going to happen. I don’t want to leave. I really loved living here. This felt like home more than any place I’ve lived in, but I can’t stay here.”

“I’ve been a fuckin’ selfish asshole. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please, I’ll make things up to you. I’ll change.”

“And when things get hard? When you get busy and stressed at the restaurant, then what? It goes back to how things were? I can’t put myself through that. I can’t take that chance.” It killed you seeing him so upset but when you broke up with him, it was like you could breathe again.

You were becoming the person that you used to be. You didn’t want to sacrifice yourself for someone else that didn’t give you the time of day.

Three knocks to the front door made you step away from Carmen. You opened the door and saw the movers with a dollie and a couple of extra boxes.

“Excuse me.” You felt Carmen grab his coat and brush past you. Part of you wanted to chase him down and wrap your arms around him. You didn’t want the last image you had of him to be so hurt.

As you watched the movers grab your boxes and take them down to the awaiting truck, you grabbed the letter that you wrote for Carmen. You planned to leave it on the kitchen counter.

You didn’t know if he’d even read it. Maybe he would rip it up into tiny pieces. Maybe he would read it over and over again.

It wasn’t up for you to wonder. You were at peace with your decision and that’s all that mattered.

[general-cyno]

I've been on law backstory brainrot and one thing stuck on my mind is the topic of lies, wrt rocinante in specific. I find him fascinating as a character and it's like - the flashback focuses on law, of course, since it's part of his story, but it's still somewhat objective. we're shown some of rocinante's inner thoughts at times. he's kinda hard to pinpoint though, in terms of overall personality. there's the little brother and son of former celestial dragons, rocinante the marine, corazón the executive, and law's cora-san.

a line that stayed with me despite the kinda goofy context was law's the most ridiculous thing about you is the only part that's true, back when rocinante first revealed his motives after learning of law's full name. rocinante is sincere but not necessarily always-honest. it's all over his character too, what with being an undercover agent. rocinante lied to doflamingo and his crew, he lied to his adoptive father/father figure, he even lied to law, denying his identity as a navy officer and insisting doffy wouldn't kill him. even so, the one person he apologizes to? is also law.

we don't really know if covert operations within the marines were always his thing or just something he did because it involved his brother. regardless, rocinante was forced to lie for different reasons: for a greater good (his mission to stop doflamingo), for law's sake (stealing the op op fruit). when faced with the brat he'd grown attached to and wished to save, he lies again, but only because he didn't want law to hate him. there's just something painfully bittersweet about it. it's a little selfish too. he didn't regret lying to his older brother. he didn't express regret over lying to sengoku, the man who'd raised him like a son, either. it's in the moment of his imminent death and the exposure he subjected himself to so that law could escape, when he voices it out - I'm sorry for lying, I just didn't want you to hate me.

rocinante was willing to make an enemy out of everyone, even the organization he belonged to and the man who'd raised him, yet it was law he didn't wish to be hated by. his last direct words to law were I love you and an apology, neither of which he received a response to. rocinante died not knowing for sure if law felt the same or if he resented rocinante for his association to the marines but he didn't need to, anyway, because reciprocity wasn't the point. he saved law because he loved him and saving him was the right thing to do, not for the D or whatever destiny awaited law in the future, just because he was a kid who'd suffered so much and deserved to live and be free. this is pretty much what law's conversation with sengoku is about, too. don't ever attach a reason to the love you've received.

on the one hand you've got rocinante who died, uncertain of whether law hated him or not, for the lies and all, hoping to be remembered for his smile. not knowing law would build so much of his self and life around his cherished memories of cora. on the other, there's law who spent thirteen years being unable to realize how truly unconditional cora's love for him was in the end, up until the aftermath of dressrosa. such a tragic duo for real.

[seonghwaddict]

in your arms — choi san

request by @sankatchu. “Just saw ur seonghwa angst and it absolutely destroyed my heart but since I am a wreck for angst could you write the most heart breaking angst (with a happy ending bc as much as I love it I can’t deal with no comfort 😍) for my man sannn &lt;3 ?”

pairing. choi san x reader. genre. heavy angst, comfort. warnings. argument, car crash, injury description, a lot of crying, hospitalisation, pet name (my love). wc. 1117 words. (i would usually write 1.1k but this was too cute sorry not sorry).

[ listening to . . . ] lovememore. by dosii.

　　　　　　　　　main masterlist

your whole world shattered within a day and there’s nothing you’ll regret more than letting it happen. it was a day like any other, but soon enough small irritations that accumulated over the course of months finally snapped and caused an argument with your boyfriend and the love of your life, choi san.

the relationship you two had was always very loving and despite being together for nearly a year, you were proud to say you never had any serious fights with him. until today, you supposed. there wasn’t really a point to the argument but you figured he must’ve been stressed from work—comebacks were always a bit hectic—and neither of you had been getting much sleep.

“just stop being so selfish and so self-righteous and leave me be for a seco-”

“get out.”

his anger faltered for just a moment before it was back, much more visible than before; his shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. “what?”

“i said get out. you said you wanted me to let you be, so leave. get out and come back when you’re ready to talk this through properly.”

The subject of it didn’t really matter anyway and you couldn’t even remember everything that was said, just the way your heart shattered when he walked out of your apartment with a slam of the front door behind him. even though the sadness of it all hit you as soon as he was gone, your rage never settled. how dare he talk to you so harshly? san was a painfully soft man—gentle words and tender touches. you’d never seen him like that.

san wasn’t sure where to go at first, but soon enough he was in his car, driving down the nearly empty streets at one in the morning and heading to the dorms he shared with his members. buildings rushed past him and soon enough his rigid posture relaxed, his hands on the steering wheel loosening as he sighed deeply. he contemplated turning the car around to go back and apologise, but before he could he felt the air being knocked out of his lungs as the screech of tired ripped through the air.

for a moment everything was silent, san’s ears ringing as he slowly started to figure out his bearings. the car was flipped sideways as his left shoulder was pressed against the shattered glass of the window and the concrete of the ground. his thoughts were slow, a sluggish attempt to keep him awake as he tried to move his limbs. he ignored any injuries he had, his hand reaching for his very cracked phone as he called the first person that came to mind. you.

but you didn’t pick up.

so he left you a voicemail, the high pitch of sirens already approaching in the background. with a final “i love you” he ended the message, coughing just after as he clicked his seatbelt off and slumped against the ground. after a few more breaths, he let his eyes close.

you were positively hysterical once you finally listened to the voicemail, hot tears running down your cheeks as you rushed to the nearest hospital that they must’ve taken him to. after talking to the receptionist and figuring out where his room was, you burst inside the room and stopped in your tracks.

his members were there, looking pale scattered around the room in varying states of distress, but you barely registered them as your heart sank. there were a few cuts and bruises blossoming on the sharp features of his face, a small plaster taped on his forehead. his left shoulder was wrapped in bandages as well as his right wrist. someone hugged you tightly as they cried into your shoulder, you didn’t really care who, though you figured it was wooyoung judging by the familiar smell, but your eyes stayed fixated on the unconscious, fragile body of san, the monitor next to him beeping at a steady pace. 

once he let go of you and told you they had to leave for schedules since the company didn’t want fans to worry too much, you took some tentative steps to the hospital bed. even though he looked quite beaten up, he still had that tenderness about him. with a frown and small furrow to your eyebrows, you let your fingers trace of the scratched on his hand.

before you knew it, you were sitting on chair you pulled next to the bed, holding onto his hand for dear life as you laid your head on his lap, not caring that your tears were staining the pristine white blanket. eventually, you fell asleep like that.

the next morning you stirred awake, a familiar hand brushing through your hair. a small noise leaving your lips as you turned your head and looked up. suddenly you had the energy of five redbulls as you jumped up and embraced him tightly, ignoring the fact you were probably suffocating him as tears began streaming again.

“i’m s-so so sorry, are you okay?” you told him through sobs and sniffles, “god, i’m so stupid and you’re right, i’m selfish and i should’ve just shut up, t-this is all my fault.”

san lifted his right hand to pat your arm gently before grasping it and pulling you away from him with the same slowness. as your tearful eyes looked into his strikingly soft ones, his hand moved so he could wipe away your tears. “i’m okay, none of this is your fault. i never meant a single word i said, you’re not selfish and fuck i would never want you to shut up. i should be the one apologising, my love.”

you lips trembled as you nodded slowly. “b-but if i never made you leave this wouldn’t have happened, it is my fault.”

“whatever happened, happened. please, don’t beat yourself up over this.” he pulled you close to him and his lips pressed heartfelt kisses to your hair as you buried your face in his uninjured shoulder, one on the nape of your neck and the other rubbing your back. “it’s okay, i’m okay, love.”

“i should be the one comforting you.” 

he chuckled and moved his hand from your neck to your cheek, guiding you to face him before leaning up to press his lips against yours. it was a firm kiss, wordless reassurance that he knew you needed as you melted against him and pressed yourself closer. his lips left yours too soon for your liking as he pressed more fluttering kisses on your cheeks, stopping your tears in the tracks, leaning back as he pressed one last kiss to the tip of your nose.

“i already find comfort in your arms.”

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] this ended up being a lot sadder than i intended but i hope you like it sankatchu!! writing angst is honestly so much fun but sometimes my heart can’t take it

　　[ network ... ] @cromernet @blankjournal

　　[ perm taglist ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Baby

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

SPOOKTOBER SPECIAL

➯a/n: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy little and caregiver relationship, or a healthy relationship of any kind. this is messed up but i wanted to experiment with my writing and i think i succeeded. let me know what you think of this cause i would love love looooove to write more

✃ "You're my baby, say it to me." - Mitski, I Bet on Losing Dogs

✫彡wordcount: 4k

♡'･ᴗ･'♡(ಡ‸ಡ)genre: yandere, HEAVY angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: stockholm syndrome, mind breaking, spanking, mentions of bribery, mommy hwa (i cannot help myself)

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

✩index: little space; a regressed state of mind where one feels like a child. hyung; a name for an older male friend or sibling, used by other males.

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

    "I'm home, sorry I'm late!" Seonghwa called out as he entered the apartment, looking around the empty rooms. "Baby?" He peeked into the kitchen, dinner untouched on the stove. "San?" The living room, the news channel on mute. "Mingi?" Both of his roommates rooms, desolate.

"No!" Your shout calls him to his room at the end of the hall, followed by a clanging and a yell of pain from his friend.

"Baby?! Baby!?" He turns into his room in a panic, eyes wide as he witnesses the scene infront of him.

You're curled up in a ball in the corner of his bed- head in your knees- with San holding Mingis arm as he curses under his breath, one of your bottles on the floor at their feet. "Hyung," He turns quickly and picks up the bottle, pointing it at you accusingly, "she threw this at Mingi!"

"Baby, why would you do that?" He takes the bottle from San and slowly kneels on the edge of the bed, reaching for you.

You say nothing, only whining and kicking his hand away. So he turns his attention back to the younger members. "What happened?" He wants to scream at them, really. How could they make his Baby cry when they know everything he went through and continues to go through to have you as his own? But that would only make you more upset. You don't like when he raises his voice, so he keeps it calm. "Is she hurt?"

"Hyung... We really didn't mean to, we tried to-" Mingi is almost in tears, he truly feels for you. But it's been months. If he could have helped he'd of found a way by now. But they need Seonghwa. And some of the members wouldn't even dream of turning him in- even after what he's done. For selfish reasons maybe. But it doesn't matter why or why not. You've been stuck in their apartments for half a year. They'd thought all of your deficiency had passed. That they could pretend it was okay.

"What happened, Baby?" He turns back to you, gently touching your knee.

That little touch seems to make you snap. Screaming obscenities in his face as you go on and on about how you are not, in fact, his baby. You aren't his at all. You want to go home. You don't love him. You don't like San. You don't like Mingi. You don't like any of the members, actually. You don't like living here. You wish you'd never even met him.

All three of them watch aghast, jaws dropped as you yell insult after insult at them. Hot in the face and tears streaming down like a waterfall so harshly that they wet the collar of your baby blue dress and pool as a drop on your chin. You grab the little plushie that Jongho made with you and hurl it at Seonghwas face, hitting him on the nose.

He watches it fall to the floor and his eyes don't seem to move after that. He's forced to listen as you insult his character directly now. He's a insane person. He's a pervert. He's sick in the head. He's annoyingly overbearing. You loathe his guts. You wouldn't spit on him if he were on fire. You'd shoot him twice if you were in a room with him and a hungry tiger with only two bullets. You loathe his entire being. You aren't his Baby. You aren't even his girlfriend. He's delusional.

The words ring around his head hauntingly. You can't possibly mean those things. He takes care of you so well. He gives you the world and all he asks for in return is your love. And he's gotten it. At least he thought he had. He woke up with you by his side and went back to bed the same way. You gave him kisses on the cheek. You let him play with all of your favorite toys that no one else can touch. You let him bathe you and dress you. You let him do everything.

"Do you hear me?" You scream, throwing his neatly fluffed pillow at his already lowered head. "I hate you!"

The world stops in that moment, the millisecond that word slips from your mouth.

    It's silent in the room. In the apartment. Not only could you hear a pin drop—

    You can hear the single tear fall from Seonghwas eye and collide with the hardwood.

Both of them look at him. You look at him. He looks at the floor. There's a visible shift in his aura. He goes from unreadable to pissed in the blink of an eye. His shoulders tense up and his breathing gets shallow.

He stands up, almost robotically. He picks up his pillow and dusts it off, placing in back on the bed where it belongs. His gaze doesn't even bother to meet yours as you watch him with wide, fearful eyes. He grabs the plushie and sets it down as well. "...Get up. Bend over, Baby."

"Hwa, wait, pl-"

"Before I get the paddle."

He doesn't say anything else, glaring down at you as you move tentatively. After an incident with an unlocked window and some sheets resulting in you being dragged to Hongjoongs room by the ear, you don't even want to see the paddle. You had to sit on their laps or a pillow for two weeks straight, if memory serves you right.

    He doesn't reach to move you faster. He stands at the edge of the bed, deadly silent. He only intervenes when you look to Mingi and San beggingly. "You're not allowed to look at them anymore."

That was a rule when you first arrived. You only got that privilege a few weeks ago. You figured it was probably to make you feel distance to the fact that these were people, who could potentially help you leave him, and not just disembodied voices and lower bodies. A way to make you feel even more lonely. Even when they were so close that you could here their breathing.

Like now, Mingi lets out a few small sniffles here and there. Sans breaths sounds anxious. Like if he moves an inch that he will be next on his Hyungs list.

As you bend your body over the edge, they avert their eyes. They may be complacent with Seonghwas actions, but they will never cross that line. They, all seven of the younger members, promised it. Never touch you. Never take advantage of you. Never directly help Seonghwa control you in any way. In fact, most of them decided it would be best to help you however possible, without ruining all of their lives in the process. Getting you small gifts that Seonghwa pre-approved. Stealing you away to the other dorms for a movie night. Sneaking you an extra sweet or episode of cartoons when you were deep in little-space.

But there was nothing they could do when Seonghwa told you to do something. To go to bed early. To let him wash your hair. To give him a kiss. To suck on his thumb. To bend over.

So they could only look away with heavy hearts as he flips up your skirt and rips -quite literally- your underwear away. The sound makes Mingi cringe, your crying pleas for him make him want to disappear forever. "Ming, please, don't let him! I'm sor-"

Seonghwa doesn't even start easy on you, he smacks your bottom harshly, over and over again until your cheek is sore and aching all the way through to your hip. And then, for the briefest moment, you all think it's over when the loud echo of the smacks finally ceases. But that was only him moving to get a better angle on your other side.

    You cry loudly, and the sound officially makes Mingi cry. He lowers his head and turns his body away completely to try and distance himself from the abuse. San gently takes ahold of his pink in his own. It does little to comfort either of them, but it reminds them both of the pact that they made.

     All of their pinkies interlocked, a promise that they would do their best for their obviously challenged Hyung.

        Both of your cheeks bruising and hot to the touch, Seonghwa finally backs up. He moves his knees from their place on either side of you and lets you crumble to the floor in a pile of sobs. He stops briefly to pull your skirt over you half-hazardly before leaving you completely alone as you blubber into your arms.

     His palm is red, as angry as he was. He takes a deep breath as he takes a pump of lotion, rubbing it into his hands as he turns to the other men.

      "Tell me what happened."

    Mingi wipes his face roughly, straightening up as San speaks lowly, "we turned on the TV. We were going to watch a movie, but... but she saw it on the news before we could even change it."

    "What did she see?"

   "Her missing persons photo..."

✿

The door was locked behind them and there was no noise in the apartment. If you hadn't known better, you'd say they all left. But Seonghwa refused to ever leave you alone. Even when all of the members were busy. You either went with them or had a staff member watching you, one who'd coincidentally received a raise moments before.

You stayed right there on the floor for the longest time, sobbing and snotting all over the floor as you tried to calm yourself.

Oh, you really outdid yourself this time.

Even at his angriest, Seonghwa never left your side when there was a tear in your eye.

You knew he had no tolerance for that word. Hate. Ironically, you could say he hated it. Especially when it came out of your lips. You once said you hated the show he put on. He gave you a fourty minute lecture and three smacks to the behind.

And you just aimed it right at him. You meant to make him angry. And you succeeded.

Now, into the night, when he still hasn't returned, you start to wonder wether you snapped his last string of humanity. If he hated you just as much as you claimed you hated him. If he's out in the kitchen planning how to get rid of you.

Your body aches as you sit up, screaming at you as you crawl into the small pink tent in the corner of the room. It's placed on top of soft play mats and filled with baby-ish things that he insisted you needed every time he saw them. The softest blankets. The cutesy, most hug-able plushies. A small box of your favorite pacifiers and toys.

You untie the ribbon keeping the sheer fabric open and let it drape closed, as if it will shield you. Perhaps, in your fragile mind, it will. He never comes in here, only ever reaches in to grab the blankets to wash every other week.

You let yourself flop onto your side into the pile and find yourself sobbing all over again. Maybe, just maybe, in a fucked up, delusional way... Seonghwa does care for you. Maybe, just maybe, in his mind, he does all of these things because he believes it best for you.

You can still see Seonghwa in his room when he's not there. Maybe that's why you hate being cooped up in here. Always begging members to let you hang out in their rooms instead.

It's so neat. Even after the chaos of earlier. So color coordinated. Grey and white and warm lights.

You're the only exception. Toys and clothes and books strewn about in your little corner, just out of sight of his cam-corder.

   Maybe that's why you get so mad when you slip out of the little space he's built for you. You know you don't fit into his life seamlessly. You know the truth of your situation. So you may as well start making the best of it.

    With a groan of effort, you sit back up.

✿

   It's well past midnight when he turns the lock on the outside of his door. Which also means its well past your bedtime. You've become so well accustomed to it over your time together, he figures you've probably fallen asleep.  

       And he's right. He immediately spots you on his side do the bed, holding his pillow tight to your chest with your swollen eyes closed.

    A pant of regret hits him right where it hurts as he realizes just how much he made you cry. How much he made you hurt. His anger got the best of him, and it hurts his heart that deep down, he knows it won't be the last time.

     He's done it to everyone. His family. His members. Himself...

    His darkest thoughts reach out in the corners of his mind, saying that his Baby is better of without him. But he is quick to slap them away as he tip toes into the room.

    Somethings off, somethings different. Everything is in place.

    All of your toys and coloring books and short stories. All of your pacifiers and stuffed animals. They're on the shelf exactly how he puts them during his Sunday reset cleanings. All of your favorites are on the wall, your side of the bed. The multitude of blankets and throw pillows in your tent are folded and organized neatly. Your tears and snot have been wiped up. Your ripped panties in the bin.

    "Oh, my Baby," he whispers, immediately crawling into bed behind you and holding your back close to his chest, careful to avoid your bottom. He doesn't even want to fathom what he did to you... "My Baby..."

      He can't help but cry, though he tries to do so silently. He wants you to rest, you need it. But the smallest movement of the bed wakes you in your fragile state.

    When you stir, he expects you to crawl away. But you don't. Instead, you roll over to face him and shimmy into his arms. "Hey, sweet girl," he coos hoarsely.

     You were right, earlier. You weren't left alone in the apartment. San was sitting in the living room comforting Mingi as Seonghwa stormed off and went upstairs to Hongjoong. While they sat in silence, he screamed and screamed and screamed until he couldn't breathe.

     Eventually, Hongjoong and Yunho got him to calm down, and they talked and talked and talked. Yunho suggested, lightly, that you should stay the night with them. And then Seonghwa screamed some more.

     In all this time, your nighttime routine had never been interrupted. He had a very specific way the two of you did things before bed and he would have it no other way. In all this time, he's never let you out of his arms as he slept. Even that first night, you kicked and screamed and punched until you passed out. But you did so in his arms.

    "Mommy." It's a simple acknowledgment, but it calms him ever so slightly. He takes pride in that name. And it makes him happy you can still call him that after what he's done to you.

     "Are you okay, Baby?" He knows that the answer is no. But he'll give you the opportunity to speak for yourself. To tell him how to help.

     "Hurts," you sniffle as you press your face into his chest, " 'm hungry..."

     "Come on, Sweetpea, I'll take care of you."

    You koala hug onto him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he stands.

    And the nighttime routine starts now, a pattern of familiarity to calm both of your shot nerves.

    He gently sets you in your seat at the table, but not before pacing down a pillow he grabbed while passing the couch. It still burns even with the soft cushioning below you.

You eat in silence. Usually you would speak about your days, and the next one's plans. But there doesn't seem to be any words that either of you can find at the moment.

He rinses the dishes before picking you back up. No matter how many times you insist you can walk- he insists right back that his Baby must be carried. You pass Mingi on the way to the bathroom, and he gives you a small wave, his eyes bloodshot and his posture slumped. But he can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips as you wave back over Seonghwas shoulder.

The pillow goes down on the counter before you, and he starts your meticulous skin care. Your face wash, then his. Your toner, then his. Moisturizer, eye cream, spot treatment, the list goes on until your both brushing your teeth.

You will admit Seonghwa takes exceptionally good care of not only himself, but you as well.

He likes to massage your face after all is said and done. He says it's good for blood flow, which is true. But he does it for a few simpler reasons.

Your face in his hands. And a chance to admire you at the end of the day.

No matter how rough of a day it was. He could always count on this.

He cups your cheeks as he stands between your legs, massaging them gently. "My Baby." He whispers. So quiet you actually miss it. You're too busy melting into his affection. "You're my Baby." He speaks, however lowly.

"Mhm," you moan quietly, blinking up at him, not knowing what exactly he's meaning.

"Say it to me," he says. He pleads. His forehead rests on yours. Eyes growing wet as he uses your eyes as a window into your soul. "Please."

"I'm your baby," you whisper just as gently as he. Nodding against his head lightly. "I'm your baby, Mommy."

He nearly collapses as his shoulders finally relax. His mind flooding with happiness as he hears those words. You're all he's ever wanted. You're all he feels he truly has.

He knew it since the moment he saw you. So delicate, so beautiful and kind. He was overcome with an urge that he can only describe as a mix of pure love and anxiety. He loves you so deeply, how can he ever rest if he doesn't know for certain that your safe and taken care of? So he took matters into his own hands.

He's never felt it before. He knows he'll never feel it again. He will never. Never. Love someone as much as you. As much as his Baby.

You reach up and wipe his tears gently, the tiniest of smiles playing at your lips, "you gonna wash away all the stuff you jus' put on."

He can't help the chuckle that leaves him, leaning into your touch as it leaves a tingle on his skin, "you're right, Baby."

He gently, oh so gently, places a kiss on your lips before your routine resumes.

He leaves you to do your business as he goes to the living room and gathers your pajamas, and when he comes back he finds you all done, rubbing your bottom with a pout. "Oh, Baby, I'm so sorry! I forgot, it must have hurt on the toilet," a pout of his own forms as he crouches and rummages through the cabinet.

"Yeahm," you whine, watching him closely as he grabs a tube.

"Bend over, Baby." That simply sentence almost has you spiraling again before he reaches and rubs your head ever so gently. "It's okay, it's okay. It's numbing cream. Let Mommy put on you and it'll feel better, promise."

You hesitantly bend over the counter slightly, and are relieved to find he's telling the truth. He's barely touching your behind enough spread the cream, his touch is so light. But he manages to apply the treatment without causing you any more harm.

You know that this will be part of your nightly routine again when he sets the tube down with the rest of his products. It mocks you as you look at it. Knowing you'll have to hear those words over and over again until you're healed.

He helps you rid your dress and redresses you in one of his t-shirts before changing into his own pajamas.

As he carries you back to bed, you speak up while fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, "Mommy?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"Can sleep in my tent tonigh'?"

"Oh, Baby, you know I have to hold you to fall asleep. Baby can have a nap in there tomorrow, how about that?"

"No, Mommy too," you look to him with a pout as he closes the bedroom door behind you, "Mommy in the tent." You point to it as if he doesn't know what tent you're referring to, and it makes him laugh how adorable you are when you're so deep in little-space.

"Okay, Baby," he sets you down first and lets you crawl in, watching you with stars in his eyes as you curl up under the blankets and move to make room for him.

His feet poke out of the side even as he's curled spooning you, and he knows the sight is probably ridiculous. But it's very possibly the coziest he's been with you. The tent and the plushies inside of it smell like you. All of the soft blankets have accumulated into a weighted blanket of sorts and keeps you both warm in the cold October air. His chest pressed to your back and your numbed bottom snuggling back into his hips. Your soft, calm breaths luring him into a state of tranquility. He stays just like that, for a long time, it feels like. It almost feels like he's meditating. His soul being cleansed. He can see why you like it here-

Oh. Oh, he's really in here.

It dawns on him as he looks up. What is usually a white ceiling is a pink fabric just a few inches away from his face.

You invited him in.

Ever since he set it up three months ago, you made a strict 'BABY ONLY' policy. And you stuck to that. Not even Jongho, who was admittedly your favorite of his members, was allowed in. They were all confined to the play mat just outside.

But not anymore.

He thought after the pain he had caused, after the outside world had reminded you what he'd done, that your progress would be set back. That he'd back back to square one with a brat. But, you went ahead and proved him opposite.

You proved him that you are and will continue to be,

His Baby.

✿

[goldenseresinretriever]

You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 11

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, arguing, dead parents, mentions of major character death, fluff, angst, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: This was a really hard chapter for me to write so I hope it manages to convey what I wanted it to

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Bradley frowns in the mirror. He glances at his phone and frowns again. If he keeps this up he’s going to be late. The truth of the matter is that he doesn’t want to go. It’s Friday. It’s been a week since getting back from D.C. and it feels like it’s been a million years. He’d gotten used to it, waking up with you in his arms every morning. Every night this past week he’s had to stop himself from asking you to come over. He’d put the ball in your court, though. You’d asked him to pump the brakes so he had, and he’d promised to respect that.

On top of that, he hadn’t seen much of you this week. The two of you have been busy working nonstop since getting home early Friday morning. You’d both headed home half-asleep from the airport before having to be back first thing Saturday for a game versus Vancouver. The most time alone you’d gotten together was that Saturday morning when you’d called him into your office to sign the official paperwork that would make your relationship officially disclosed to the rest of the team. He smiles as he remembers your soft smile, shy as you signed your name next to his. He’d been sorely tempted to take you right then and there on your desk but he knew that was strictly off-limits and questionably unprofessional at best. He’d settled with a simple kiss to your cheek that had your skin heating under his lips in a way that he loves so much.

Saturday’s game was followed by two more home games on Tuesday and Thursday with Carolina and New Jersey respectively. It definitely didn’t help that yesterday’s game had been nationally broadcast which meant you’d been absolutely slammed with work and preparations all week. He also knows you went out last night with Mickey and some of his former New Jersey teammates.

It didn’t make missing you any easier. He doesn’t have time to call you but he does it anyway, putting the phone on speaker as he fixes his hair. It’s been too long since he’s gotten you all to himself and he’s feeling selfish tonight. You pick up on the third ring, your bright voice echoing around the empty bathroom as he smiles to himself, his mood already lifting. “Hi Bradley, what can I do for you?” He chuckles.

“What? I can’t call my girlfriend without wanting something from her?” It’s new, this label you’ve put on things. Actually, neither of you has yet to actually use the label but he likes the way it sounds in his mouth. He hears your breath hitch and he knows he’s caught you by surprise. Suddenly he’s wondering if he’s overstepped when your voice fills the room yet again.

“Your girlfriend?” Your voice is tentative and he wishes you were here so he could wrap you in his arms and chase away all your doubts with his lips.

“I know I didn’t sign an official form to be the guy you occasionally kiss and take spontaneous road trips with, Honey.” He hears you giggle and his smile tugs wider.

“Plus I guess it would be pretty awkward if you introduced me to your parents and I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“Nah, I would have introduced you anyway. They would have loved you.” He says and sighs deeply as he looks into the mirror again. He doesn’t want to go to this dinner. He wants to invite you over and have your laugh bounce off the walls for real. He wants your warmth to fill every room of the apartment. He wants to sit you on the kitchen island while he cooks for the two of you and then he wants you to spend the night in his bed so your scent will be glued to his sheets until the next time he can coax you there.

“Any fun plans tonight, Bear?” Your sweet voice breaks through his thoughts and his lips twitch at the new nickname.

“Bear?” He hears you giggle again and smiles.

“Yeah, because you’re big and scary when you want to be but you’re also a secret cuddler and give the best hugs.” He can imagine the way your cheeks are heating as you continue to rain compliments on him. “And bears like honey.” You add matter-of-factly. This bear happens to love honey but he knows better than to mention that right now. “So? Any fun plans tonight?” He groans then as he’s reminded that if he doesn’t leave soon he’s going to be late.

“Dinner at Mav’s.” He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know exactly how excited he is for that.

“And how are you feeling about that?” You ask tentatively and he sighs.

“Honestly, Honey? It’s the last place I want to be right now. I’d much rather be having dinner with you.” He can’t help the admission as he lets it slip.

“That makes two of us.” Suddenly he really really doesn’t want to go. “But that being said, I’ve had a migraine and hangover all day after last night.” You let out your own groan and a fond but concerned smile touches Bradley’s lips. He wants nothing more than to wrap you up and spoil you rotten. He can tell you’re exhausted and he wants to be one to take care of you.

“Get some rest, Honey, you’ve had a long week.” You groan again and Bradley hears paper rustling. His brows furrow as you confirm his suspicions.

“I’d love to but I’ve got a literal mountain of paperwork that needs to get done before I can leave. And then I have to go grocery shopping because there’s literally nothing in my fridge.” You let out a frustrated whine and Bradley’s about five seconds away from texting Maverick to cancel so that he can bring you here and dote on you. Unfortunately, his mother’s voice in his head takes that exact moment to remind him that Penny’s making dinner and while Maverick certainly doesn’t deserve his respect, she does.

“Tell you what, Honey.” He hears you hum in response. “Finish up your work and come over. I’ll give Tony my spare key and tell him to let you in. Order some pizza and get comfortable and I’ll be back before you know it.”

You’re silent for a long moment before you ask. “Bear?”

“Yes, Honey?”

“Do you have a tub?” He blinks, surprised by the question as he turns around and looks at the free-standing porcelain tub behind him.

“I do.” He hears some rustling from your end before you ask.

“Can I have a bubble bath?” His laugh echoes off the walls of the bathroom at your simple request.

“Honey, you can have whatever you want.” He replies and he’s surprised to find that he truly means it. He’d lasso the moon for you if you asked and he’s not even sure what you’d want it for in the first place. He hears your squeal of delight on the other end of the call and smiles as he imagines you here, in his space, the thing he’s been dreaming of all week. “Honey, I hate to cut things short, but I need to start heading over to Mav’s. I’ll see you after?”

“No problem, see you soon, Bear!” Your voice is much more cheery than he feels but he can feel your infectious attitude raising his mood. He hears the line disconnect and lets out a heavy sigh.

The promise of you waiting here when he gets back is what drives him to finish getting ready. He makes sure to give Tony the spare key and doesn’t miss the look the older man gives him when he tells him to expect the young woman from last week. His cheeks are still pink when he pulls out of the parking garage.

***

When Bradley finally sees the house he can’t help the disgusted sneer that pulls his lips. The house is huge, to say the least. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised, given Mav’s long and highly decorated career, but all he can think about is the house he grew up in. How the lawn was almost always overgrown while his mother was alive and the paint was almost always peeling off the sides no matter how much he tried to help with the upkeep when he had the time. Mr. Peterson from next door had helped out more often than not but Bradley remembers the feeling of the calluses on his mother’s hands when he held them, first as a small child and then later at the cusp of adulthood as she’d laid in the hospital near the end. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in his mother working, but he knew deep down that that wasn’t the life that she or his father had imagined for her when they got married.

Carole Bradshaw was Nick’s Princess, his Queen. He wanted to give everything in the world to her on a silver platter. And he’d been on the road to doing so. He’d made it all the way to the NHL, and he got to play on the regular roster. Things were looking up. Carole could focus on raising their son instead of struggling to make ends meet, filling the kitchen table with her delicious cooking instead of piles of bills that needed paying. It would have broken his heart to see how her life turned out.

They weren’t poor, not by any means. Bradley knew that as much as he knew that it was mostly due to the person whose driveway he was currently pulling into. Maverick had been nothing but generous when it came to money, but there were simply some things that money couldn’t buy and he didn’t seem to understand that from the limited conversations Bradley had had with him.

Bradley thinks back to Dare’s little bungalow that he’d visited barely a week ago. She’d coached the Pittsburgh Penguins to five Stanley Cup wins and yet she isn’t living in this state of excess. What disgusts him the most is that she should be. All of this should be hers too.

He tries to get his temper under control as he strolls up the walkway to the double doors. He hears barking coming from inside and when he rings the doorbell he does his best to smile back at Penny Benjamin. Penny Benjamin is a confusing situation for him. He knows that none of this is her fault, Mav abandoning his entire past and everyone involved in it, but it’s hard not to blame her when she’s here, living in Maverick’s McMansion with her pseudo-husband and dog. He leans down to scratch the ears of the elderly Labrador. “Bradley, glad you could join us, come on in.” He follows her inside, down hallways lined with photographs from over the years of Maverick, Penny, and a little girl who ranges in age across the various photos. “That’s my daughter, Amelia,” Penny explains when she catches him watching.

“Yours?” He asks before clarifying. “Just yours, I mean?” He can feel his cheeks heating as his mother’s voice chides him for asking such an inappropriate question.

She doesn’t seem ruffled, nodding. “Just mine, from my ex-husband. She’s probably around your age, she was barely a few months old when I met Maverick. He may not be her birth father but he’s the only one she’s ever known.” Bradley hates the bitterness that pools in his stomach at her words. The jealousy that he could have been the child in the pictures on the wall, doted on by his godfather who should have stepped into the role left vacant by the death of his father.

He’s doing his best to reign in his emotions as they reach the dining room, but it all goes to hell the moment he realizes he’s not the only guest at this dinner. Seated across from Maverick is none other than Dare. Bradley has to fight to keep his hands from curling into fists at his sides because the woman at the dining table is nothing like the one he’s seen before. Usually Dare is the picture of confidence without looking cocky. She knows what she’s doing and she’s not afraid to show it. She reminds him of you and the kind of woman that he’s sure you’ll grow up to be. Now that confidence is gone and Bradley’s fighting the urge to throttle the man that he’s sure is responsible. She looks unsure of herself and as uncomfortable as he feels to be here if not more. He immediately moves to take the seat next to her, keeping his eyes off Maverick as he does his best to assess for damage. He knows it’s probably nothing that he can see but he wants to because all he sees is his mother after a long day of carrying a burden that’s not hers to carry anymore. He can’t count the number of times he’s seen that face and it breaks his heart to see it now, on the face of someone who shouldn’t have to suffer but who is anyway. All because one self-centered fool can’t be bothered to get his head out of his ass.

Maybe he does it out of protectiveness, but maybe he does it out of pure spite, but he does it anyway. He wraps his arms around the older woman, the way she had done for him in her kitchen while he fell apart in his arms. He knows it’s nothing in the grand scheme of things, but he intends to make up for the sins of his godfather if he can. Be there for the person who was there for his mother, for him even if he hadn’t been able to fully appreciate it at the time. The way her body tenses under him at first is the only evidence of her surprise at the gesture but she reciprocates the hug and Bradley finds himself engulfed in a scent that stirs in his memory. He can’t draw a concrete image from it but he knows he’s smelt it before like these hugs aren’t something new just something forgotten. When Bradley finally breaks the hug to sit next to Dare, Maverick is looking at them, surprised.

“I didn’t realize the two of you were close.” He says awkwardly. Bradley knows he shouldn’t do it but there’s something so satisfying about seeing Maverick as uncomfortable as he and Dare are so he pushes.

“She’s my godmother, why wouldn’t we be?” Sure this thing with Dare was new but that didn’t negate the fact that she’d been around his whole life. And sure he was stretching the truth a little, but measured on a scale of Maverick’s involvement in his life? Dare was winning the godparent race by a landslide. Maverick’s eyebrows raise with surprise, and Bradley watches the confusion swirl in his eyes. He’s fighting the urge to smirk as he feels fingers brush his own and he laces them. His throat is rough as he feels the callouses on her palm and he wonders at how much her hand reminds him of his mother’s, the soft wrinkles on the back contrasted by the rough patches on the front.

Penny breaks the tension as he comes back into the dining room from the kitchen. “Bradley, can I get you something to drink?” He tears his eyes away from Maverick and stares at Penny for a beat too long before he mutters that water would be fine.

“So, why am I here?” Bradley asks once Penny has retreated to the kitchen.

“Dinner, I thought I told you,” Maverick starts before Bradley shakes his head.

“Not here at your house, here in San Diego.”

“Bradley, why don’t we wait until later to discuss-“

“No, we’re doing this now because I need to know.” He’s tired of dancing around the question that’s been plaguing him for almost six months now. Sure, he didn’t exactly regret the move now, but he wasn’t ready to just move on like nothing happened. “Not only did you uproot me from the team I’ve played for my entire career, but you made me leave my friends and my home. I deserve an actual answer as to why. And don’t you dare say you did it for me because if it was for me, you would have picked up the phone to ask me first instead of going behind my back.” In the back of his mind, he’s proud of how level he’s managed to keep his voice but at least part of that is due to Dare’s hand in his, squeezing tight in solidarity and grounding him.

Maverick shrugs like it’s a no-brainer. “I had the chance to work with you, so I took it. I thought it would be a good experience for us.”

Bradley feels all the fight drain out of him. All the pain that’s been caused and Maverick treats it like it’s nothing. Because to him it is. “What did you think? That I’d come to San Diego and suddenly I’d be ready to come over and drink beers and sing Kumbaya? What have I ever done to suggest that I would be interested in a relationship with you at all, professional or personal?”

“Bradley, I’m your godfather-“

“BULLSHIT.” Bradley’s voice is raised finally as his emotion gets the best of him. “You may think you’re a god but you are certainly not my father. My father is dead, my dad is dead, and you had every opportunity to step up and be there when I needed you. When my mom needed you. When we needed you, but you didn’t.” He’s breathing hard. “That’s the thing that you just don’t seem to get. You don’t get to decide when I need you. You don’t get to be my godfather when it’s convenient for you and you’ve run out of hobbies to pass the time. I have a life! I have goals! None of which involve you. You don’t get access to my life just because of some title my dad thought you were worthy of. Because that’s just a word, you have to earn it.” Dare’s grip on Bradley’s hand is bordering on painful at this point but it feels good. It reminds him that he’s capable of feeling. The physical pain complements the emotional pain that’s threatening to tear the heart from his chest. He’s breathing hard and every part of him wants to leave right now. Except that he doesn’t want to leave Dare here. And he feels terrible about ruining Penny's perfectly good dinner. When it’s clear that Maverick isn’t about to argue any of the points that Bradley’s just made he stands and walks into the kitchen to cool off.

Penny’s filling a glass with water and passes it to him wordlessly and he drinks it, hoping to cool his head. “Sorry to ruin your dinner.” He says awkwardly as he fiddles with the glass. She shakes her head and takes the glass back from him, refilling it as she considers her words.

“You’re hurting Bradley, I would hate for something as simple as a dinner to cause you more pain.” He nods silently.

“My mom would be so disappointed with me right now.” He’s not sure why he admits it but it’s all he can think of as he looks around the kitchen at the plates of sides and cooling casserole dish on the counter.

“Really? Because if I was her I’d be proud of you.” He looks back at Penny, eyes wide with surprise. “You stood up to Pete, and told him your real feelings. You were honest with him even if it hurt you to do it. I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of. That’s brave.” She reaches up then and cups his cheek gently, a fond smile on her face. “I’m sorry that I didn’t push him more, to be a part of your life, to be there for you and your mom. I was selfish and I never meant for you to get hurt by that.” Bradley shakes his head.

“You were probably scared that he’d leave you too. It seems like that’s all he’s good for.”

“I was scared then, yes. And now I know that I shouldn’t have been because that’s not Pete, not really. He’s a complicated man and doesn’t always have the best judgment but he’s good under it all, I can tell you that much. It’s completely fair of you to not want him to be a part of your life, but if you ever decide otherwise? We’ll be waiting for you.” Bradley swallows hard, unable to look her in the eye. “Can I pack some dinner up for you, sweetie?”

He nods absentmindedly before adding. “Can you pack some for Dare too, I don’t want to leave her here.” Penny just nods and sets about getting out some Tupperware.

“I don’t blame you.” Bradley blurts out before he loses his nerve. “Just because I’m mad at Maverick doesn’t mean I’m mad at you. We choose who we love, we don’t choose who loves us.” She gives him a soft smile.

“That’s a good insight, Bradley.”

“It’s what my mom used to tell me.” He shrugs even as he feels the tears pressing against the backs of his eyes. Penny finishes boxing up two dinners and Bradley takes the two plastic bags from her as they go back into the dining room. “Aunt Dare, are you ready to go?” The words, although new, feel familiar in his mouth like a warm hug. She looks at him surprised and then her eyes fall on the bags in his hand and then shift to Penny who just smiles.

“We can reschedule for another day.” Dare nods and a silent conversation occurs between the two women as she stands and follows Bradley to the front door. Penny sees them out. Maverick still hasn’t gotten up from the table.

Once the front door closes behind them, Bradley and Dare walk to their cars in silence until they get to them. “Do you have any plans for the evening?” Bradley asks, tentatively. He knows you’re probably still at work since he’s barely spent thirty minutes here. He also knows you’d want him to do this instead of worrying about you. Dare shakes her head, still quiet, considering him. “What do you say we take dinner to your place?” She smiles gently and then wraps her arms around Bradley. He relaxes into her embrace.

“Thank you, Bradley,” she whispers into his hair and his heart clenches at the thickness of her voice. “Dinner sounds lovely.” She says as she lets him go. “I’ll meet you there.”

They get into their cars and Bradley follows Dare back to her place. He frowns to himself when he sees the overgrown yard. She lets them in and he excuses himself to the bathroom while she dishes up Penny’s food. When he gets back, he’s just about to sit down at the kitchen table when a shout from Dare in the kitchen makes him freeze.

“Maverick, get off the counter RIGHT NOW!” He whips around, expecting to see a man but instead, a burst of orange fuzz speeds out of the kitchen in a blur. Bradley follows the blur as it perches on the arm of the sofa, regarding him with yellow eyes. The orange cat is more fur than cat and looks fairly old despite how spry it clearly is. “Maverick Mitchell the Third, you know better to get on the kitchen counter.” Dare comes out of the kitchen, an unamused scowl on her face as she sets her hands on her hips and glares at the cat. “Can’t you see we have a guest?” The cat, Maverick, turns to regard Bradley curiously. “Bradley, that’s Maverick.” She says to Bradley, her scowl melting into a look of fondness. Bradley gives the cat a half-hearted wave, still recovering from the shock of the cat sharing a name with his godfather.

“He wasn’t here last time.” Bradley blurts out lamely and she chuckles, bringing out two plates.

“He was locked in my room. I didn’t know if you were a cat person and I didn’t want to appear too much like a crazy old cat lady.” Bradley smiles at that.

“You’re not old.” He points out.

“But still a crazy cat lady noted.” She smiles back and Bradley laughs, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“Your words, not mine.” They laugh together and the tension from earlier seems to seep out of both their bodies. “So, you named your cat Maverick?” He says as they dig into the food. It’s delicious and he makes a note to mention it to Penny the next time he sees her. Dare nods thoughtfully.

“Pete was always just Pete to me. I hated that nickname, so I never used it. Then when I got the cat to fill the void it just felt right.”

“Maverick the Third?” He asks around a bite of chicken casserole.

She shrugs. “I’m old after all.” There’s a lull in conversation as they east before Dare speaks up again. “Thank you, Bradley, for what you did today.”

“I meant every word of it. I know you’re upset that you weren’t around more when I was younger but you’re here now and I want you in my life if you want to be.”

She smiles and he can see the shine of tears in her eyes as she says “I’d like that very much.” He scoots his chair closer and reaches his hand out to hold hers. The sight of her wedding ring still on her finger makes his heart ache subtly. He can’t right every wrong that she’s suffered, but he can do his best.

“Aunt Dare, do you have a lawnmower?”

***

A few hours later Bradley’s riding the elevator back up to his apartment, reeking of dried sweat and freshly cut grass. It's the last he could do but he’d felt the conviction to get it done tonight. Admittedly it had been a while since he’d cut grass but he figured it looked alright when he finished. The sun has long since sunk beneath the horizon and he hopes you haven’t been waiting for him too long. The idea of feeling you in his arms propels him out of the elevator and through the door. He could really use one of your hugs after the evening he’s had.

“Honey?” He calls out for you as he enters the apartment, but he’s met with silence. A glance by the door tells him that you’re here since your sneakers are lined up neatly. He walks down the hall. “Mom, I’m home.” He calls out the photo as he passes by, more preoccupied with finding you. A glance at the living room tells him that you’ve been there. A blanket is rumpled on the couch where you were clearly wrapped in it and a pizza box lies abandoned on the kitchen counter but there’s still no sign of you. He doubles back and checks the guest room first but it’s pristine. Remembering your request for a bubble bath, Bradley heads into the master bathroom and while the room is still sticky with humid warmth and the tub contains remnants of said bubble bath, you’re still yet to be found. He heads back to the living room and tries the balcony. He knows from your last visit that you enjoy the view. He walks the entire length of the wrap-around balcony but it’s empty.

He’s genuinely starting to worry for your safety when his eyes fall on the glass door leading into his bedroom from the balcony. Not even a week ago you stood where he does now, blatantly ogling him as he got changed for game night. Now it provides the answer to his quest. You’re curled up in his bed, facing the window. The lights are still on but by the steady rise and fall of your chest, he can tell you’re asleep. He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as he heads back inside, coming into his bedroom from the hallway. You’re indeed asleep, on the side of the bed you favored in D.C. As much as he wants to talk to you about the events of the evening he can’t bear to wake you when you look so peaceful. Stress doesn’t mar your features as you sleep and he begrudgingly trudges to the bathroom to shower before slipping in beside you. He knows he should wake you up, and give you the option to go home but he’s feeling selfish tonight so when he comes back to the bedroom to still find you sleeping soundly he turns out the lights and slides into the bed beside you. He’s resigned himself to staying on his side of the bed when you scoot your body up against his. He reaches for you instinctively, pulling you close and when you curl against him all is right in the world.

“Goodnight, Bear.” Your half-asleep voice murmurs as you drift between dreams.

“Goodnight, Honey.” He whispers back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as he lets the warmth of your body and the steady beat of your heart lull him to sleep.

A/N: Bradley and Dare’s relationship is so special to me you guys, I love it so so much.

[silverbladexyz]

HEYY! ok hear me out… Dazai x fem reader who just like radiates god and dom energy and he’s rlly down bad for her and the agency are just 👁👄👁 from Dazai’s total submission to her but she’s just brushing it off as a joke and giggling with him.

I owe a huge thanks to @sariel626 for helping me with this oneshot. I hope you like it anon! 💕

The image used does not belong to me. It belongs to it's original owner.

TW: Mentions of suicide and death. Dazai being Dazai. Female reader

An unexpected ploy

It was just another normal day in the Armed Detective Agency.

Currently, it's members were all busy investigating a case regarding a rather bizarre murder involving a government official.

"Now, miss, we're going to have to ask some more questions about what you have witnessed. Did you see anything else that was strange when you stumbled upon the scene of crime?"

Kunikida, notebook in hand and a pen in the other, was getting ready to write down any more observations that the witness may have remembered.

The witness, a young woman in her 20's who went by the name of Mitsuki, shakily opened her mouth to answer.

Only to be interrupted by a certain detective.

"Ah! Who is this lovely woman? No, lovely is too insulting of a word to describe your perfect beauty~"

Well, it was a normal day until the suicidal maniac just had to intrude.

An irk mark formed on Kunikida's head as he started to berate Dazai for rudely interrupting the conversation, but Dazai was Dazai, and he never listened to the man's lectures. Instead, he knelt down before the witness, his lips curling up into a handsome smile as he gently took her hand in his.

"My belladonna, despite all the stress and horror that you went through, you still manage to look radiant and ephemeral. My day has been brightened up with just your pure beauty."

"Would you perhaps join me in a lover's suicide-"

"Dazai?"

The man seemed to instantly perk up at your voice.

"Yes, my belladonna?" He focused his charming gaze upon you.

Exuding a calm and assertive aura, you smiled back at him. It was a smile that could get many people on their knees before you.

"What are you doing? You know full well that she doesn't need to be seduced. In fact, it's the last thing that she needs right now."

"..."

"..."

"... You're right! How foolishly selfish I've been! My deepest apologies, my dear; I do find you beautiful, truly I do," Dazai clasped the Mitsuki's hand to his chest, looking at her with a somewhat apologetic look in his eyes.

"But I've found someone much more charming and attractive!"

"E-eh?!"

The bandage squandering machine had instead sauntered to your side, grabbing your hand and gazing at you with such utter adoration in his eyes that it made you chuckle.

"Y/N-san, my belladonna, how about we commit a double suicide instead? Your confidence, your gorgeousness, your everything has captivated me and I fall in love with you deeper with each passing day. This really is none other than-" He was cut off with a giggle.

Dazai's eyes widened as he saw a beautiful smile form on your face, and your eyes seemed to shine as you looked back at him.

"Ah! You really are such an angel! No, a goddess! What did I ever do to deserve to be graced by your presence!" He clutched his chest dramatically, making fervent gestures with his other hand. The rest of the Armed Detective Agency members sweatdropped as they saw this scene play out.

"H-hey, is Dazai-san really alright?..." A concerned Tanizaki whispered to an equally-as-concerned Atsushi, who nervously watched the whole scene play out.

A loud thud! sounded throughout the Agency.

Dazai had been thrown across the room by a ticked off Kunikida.

"Ouch! Kunikida-kun, why did you have to interrupt-"

"Quit messing around! We must gather as much information as we can from the witness, and here you are being an immature idiot! Besides, flirting is highly inappropriate within business grounds! Especially in the middle of a rather important case!" Kunikida continued to lecture Dazai, who merely sat there and retorted with many childish statements.

"My apologies, miss, my idiotic co-worker is always like this," you said, apologising to the stunned Mitsuki, who was watching this unfold as if pigs had started to fly.

"But Y/N-san really is lovely! Ne, Y/N-san, you still haven't said whether you were going to commit double suicide with me yet!" Dazai eyed you from where he sat on the ground, and you discreetly smirked.

"I'll commit double suicide with you only if you complete your paperwork."

The silence that followed afterwards was deafening.

"... Y-you aren't serious, are you?..." Tanizaki managed to stutter out, still processing the fact that you had actually proposed that. Mitsuki made a small noise of agreement, staring at you as if you'd grown three heads.

You merely locked eyes with Dazai, neither of you saying anything for a full five seconds.

The tension that followed was thick enough to be cut with a butter knife.

A ping! sounded. You opened your phone, and nodded.

"Well, that was lovely and all. But I'm afraid that our little act ends here."

Dazai broke the silence, his eyes now dark as he turned towards Mitsuki.

"Mitsuki-san, you were almost perfect in diverting any suspicion away from you. But I'm afraid that despite how believable your story was, it wasn't enough to be fully convincible."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Atsushi about to interrupt, but you silenced him with a glance. The rest of the Armed Detective Agency kept quiet, as they trusted that Dazai knew what he was doing.

"N-now hold on a moment! Why are you suddenly accusing me? I didn't do anything! I told you already, I had only-"

"-Stumbled upon the body of the government official as you were heading home from work," you gracefully cut in, rising from your chair as you fixed your gaze upon the witness, who was wide-eyed and trembling.

"You said that the government official was dumped in some small back-alley. But that was where you went wrong." You nodded at Dazai, who continued your explanation.

"But that was suspicious in itself already. If the victim was a government official, criminals would want to avoid the body being found in the first place. Why? Because the government would then be performing a search high and low for the murderer, using their best resources to find whoever killed one of their own. And criminals hate exposure; especially by someone as powerful and ruthless as the government. The body would normally have been disposed of completely, leaving no trace for the government to find."

"But how does this have anything to do with me? Maybe the murderer was in a rush and simply dumped the body in the alleyway. Or-"

"The body wasn't haphazardly dumped. It was placed neatly on the ground, and besides, your accomplice was always one to do things in an orderly manner. Am I right, Mitsuki-san?"

"W-what?! What is this nonsense?! I didn't even know who the government official was-"

"I thought that it was too much of a coincidence that you were the one to walk by a seemingly strange murder." You smiled at the lady, who looked at you bewilderedly.

"So I asked someone that I knew to look into any recent conversations you had which may be linked to this case. And lo and behold, my suspicions were correct. Despite your messages to your accomplice being encrypted and deleted afterwards, they were easily found by Katai-san." Taking out your phone, you showed her the evidence that Katai had sent you.

A message on the 11th of May, 7:16PM. "I'll need you to take care of a person for me. Best to make it quick and seem like the work of an underground organisation."

Another message on the 13th of May, 5:30 AM. "I've changed my mind. Dispose of the body in the alleyway near my lodging."

You put your phone back into your pocket.

"Even if you might protest and say we have no proof that you were the one who sent the messages, Katai-san had managed to track down and locate your accomplice. He's currently being interrogated by the military police, and it won't be long before he spills the beans. You can also claim that your accomplice would never rat you out, but that's alright. This case has already been solved." You smirked as you continued your deduction.

"The reason you targeted the government official was because of a scandal that he was involved in with your brother. But since it was a government official, this entire matter was swept under the rug, and your brother was framed. However, since you yourself had no power and evidence to prove that the scandal was tampered with, you opted for murder instead. Which led you to conspire with a friend of yours, and for him to do the dirty work while you played the part of an innocent, unsuspecting bystander who so-happened to pass by the scene of crime. Am I correct so far?"

Mitsuki gave a dry chuckle, her face now bearing no remains of the faux act she had put up earlier. She had given up, now that her thirst for revenge was satiated.

"But how did you manage to gather the evidence in such a short time?" You looked at Atsushi, who was still trying to figure out the entirety of this plot twist.

"Ah, that? Well, since I knew Mitsuki-san here would immediately disappear and cover up her traces after we finished questioning her, I had to find some way to stall in order to get the required proof. That was when Dazai-kun had the brilliant idea of flirting with Mitsuki and me so that the Agency would be held up in asking for the witness's account; therefore giving Katai-san adequate time to retrieve what was needed for this case." You smiled at Dazai, who in turn merely smiled back.

"You were close to escaping. But it was the Armed Detective Agency you were up against. And the Armed Detective Agency never fails to find the culprits, whether they are dancing in plain sight or are hiding behind the shadows." Your gaze pierced into the young lady as you delivered your final statement.

"It's checkmate, Mitsuki."

This was rather fun and interesting to experiment with, and I hope reader's personality was to your liking. See you next time, my dear readers! 💓

@circinuus @celesttes @sariel626 @i-just-like-goats @dazaiyohane @irethepotato @xxelfmamaxx @ashthemadwriter @nekokinax

[mirai-e-jump]

Animedia July 2023 Issue Erica Murakami x Yuzuki Hirakawa Interview (Translation below)

(Page 136)

"The Beautiful and Strong Kings have Arrived"

"We'll dig deep into their relationship" "Anatomy Practice"

In order to protect the peace of Chikyu, from the five king heroes of "Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger" who fight alongside insect shaped mechanical life forms called "Shugods", comes Murakami-san, who plays the role of Queen Hymeno of Ishabana, and Hirakawa-san, who plays the role of Rita of the Kingdom of Gokkan. The two actors, who play heroes named after insects, report in as researchers on the "OO part" of each other that they have come to see through filming. Furthermore, they also talked about their character's strength and other highlights of the story.

(Page 137)

Discovered by Erica ⭐ Yuzuki's Anatomy Keywords

"Describe Yuzuki in one word…" FULL POWER BOY

Yuzuyan (Hirakawa) plays Rita, who is an immovable character, but she herself is full of energy like a boy! A person who is full of energy and never ceases to smile even at the shooting site. It also keeps me in high spirits. (-Murakami)

"The cute part is…" Making a happy face when eating sweets

When her favorite foods are served on the set, such as sweets and catered boxed lunches, Yuzuyan gets very happy! "Alright! I love these sweets! Oh man, what do I do!" I really love these moments when she doesn't hide her emotions. (-Murakami)

"The OO that only I know is…" Quick at learning the way! Can sing really well!

Toei's studio is quite spacious. I tend to get lost, but she guides me saying, "this way." She is the youngest of the "King-Ohger" members, but she is so mature that I don't believe she's the youngest! The other day we went to karaoke together, which I really enjoyed, but Yuzuyan sang so well that I thought I couldn't sing with her! It's a singing voice I want to listen to forever…💛 (-Murakami)

"The fascinating part is…" The gap between roles and a strong heart!

Isn't it fascinating to have a gap between a character role and the person themself? Rita doesn't talk much, so I really like the gap between them and Yuzuyan, who does talk a lot. Then, even on the most difficult shoots, I see her always trying her best as if saying "I won't be defeated by anything!." I feel the strength of her heart. (-Murakami)

"The surprising part is…" I don't do well with loud noises! Miss Scared

Yuzuyan is a tough, firm and dependable person…but is actually a real scaredy-cat. When there was an explosion shot being filmed right in front of her, she said, "What should I do?! Maybe I should I wear earplugs?" It was so cute! It seems that she doesn't like sudden loud sounds and lights. (-Murakami)

Discovered by Yuzuki ⭐ Erica's Anatomy Keywords

"Describe Erica in one word…" PRINCESS

Her reactions have always been cute, and her very existence is that of a princess! But it's not just about being that she's cute, like a queen, her words and actions are that of nobility. But, I would'nt say she's "selfish" like Hymeno! (-Hirakawa)

"The cute part is…" Feeling "fluffy" when I get sleepy

When we are shooting after lunch or late into the night, Marie (Murakami) goes into a state of mindlessness. When I say, "hey, hey" her response is sometimes delayed by about two tempos. Her spirit sometimes…goes somewhere (lol). (-Hirakawa)

"The OO that only I know is…" You're so brave and cool.

Marie is often thought of as girly, but in fact, she is actually quite courageous. For example, she is very quick to make holiday plans, and when she decides, "Tomorrow I'll do this and that!" she is able to act accordingly and not get distracted. If she were my boyfriend, she would definitely be the type to pull me along! (-Hirakawa)

"The fascinating part is…" I will put my all into everything

She says, "I have no experience in acting," but Marie faces what she's weak at with a straight face. She also always takes care of her health and physical condition, such as bringing her own packed lunch. Because this is a job where we are seen by other people, we try to manage our body shapes for filming. I want to learn from her professional attitude!! (-Hirakawa)

"The surprising part is…" She's a little clumsy

She often forgets things, and often returns to the dressing room right after leaving. She often stumbles over things in empty spaces. She has a firm, mature image, but she is still cute in that kind of way! (-Hirakawa)

(Page 138)

Hymeno and Rita, two people who seem like opposites but are quite similar

"Please tell each other what you like about the character the other is playing."

Murakami: As a judge, Rita's diplomatic approach to pursue the truth when they have doubts is admirable. I envy you for being able to look at things calmly like Rita.

Hirakawa: Hymeno is fashionable and girlishly cute.

Murakami: ahaha (lol)

Hirakawa: The "Queen" is a noble and scary figure, so it's easy to feel defensive, but the way she fights and the strength of her will to protect her people are cool. I also like the occasional moments when Hymeno shows that she is a true to life girl, and it's fun to watch her emotions change over and over again.

Murakami: Suddenly angry, then laughing.

Hirakawa: That's the kind of girl you can't let go.

"Hymeno and Rita, currently they haven't engaged much in the show, but what are your thoughts on their relationship?"

Murakami: Actually, there will be a story about the two of them in the future, but it's not yet at the stage where it is currently being aired.

Hirakawa: Right (lol)

Murakami: In the beginning, Hymeno was a lot more involved with Yanma, but in the future, she'll have relationships with other people, including Rita. When I read the script, among the other members, I felt that Hymeno has a strong sense of trust in Rita.

Hirakawa: Although People tend to think of them as polar opposites, they share the same desire of "protecting the peace of the people."

Murakami: I think they're both close enough to each other that they could talk to each other back to back without saying a single word. Both Hymeno and Rita have the personalities to sense each other's moods.

Hirakawa: It's true, we may not need many words to understand each other.

"We've also learnt that the animated play "Together with Moffun" was a common point"

Murakami: The Ishabana animation "Moffun" will be explored more in depth in the future…please look forward to it!

"I thought it was typical of Rita to say that spoilers are absolutely NG (No Good)."

Murakami: Because they talk passionately about "Moffun"

Hirakawa: Given the amount of work Rita has to do, I think it's the only thing they find both enjoyable and comforting. That's why they are so passionate about it.

"Please tell us what each of your personal favorite episodes are."

Murakami: I really liked the performance that comes out of Taisei-kun's "Let's do it!" tension scenes. In episode 4, I loved the expression on his face when he eats a raw daikon radish, and in episode 11 when Taisei-kun (Gira) was goofing around while everyone is making a strategy plan was the best.

Hirakawa: The "Archaic Smile" he made at the time was extreme!

Murakami: The way you paraphrased it, that explains it all perfectly!

Hirakawa: I was impressed with episode 12, in which we see the relationship between the additional warrior, Jeramie, and the King-Ohger members. The reaction of the five kings to Jeramie felt fresh. I felt like something new was born during that episodes filming, and I couldn't wait to see the finished product.

"Please tell us about episodes that opened on the boys' side where you found the scenes most memorable"

Murakami: It's the scene in episode 3 with Yanma, who still admires Hymeno, and Gira asks, "Don't tell me, are you in love (with Hymeno)?" When asked about it, I really liked how the president (Yanma) replied, "It's not like that!." I liked his shyness and how unaccustomed he is around girls, it was an unexpected performance.

Hirakawa: For me, it's the scene in episode 5 when Gira's trial took place. Rita's feelings were not that they patronized Gira, but when they looked straight into Gira's eyes, they were made to believe "he's a beloved character who can't be left alone."

"Finally, would you please give a message to our readers"

Murakami: The story develops very quickly, so first off, I would like you to follow along every week without missing a single episode! There will be more in depth stories about the characters in the future, so please look back at the past episodes and enjoy the story that will continue to unfold.

Hirakawa: With the introdction of Jeramie, the story is progressing at a rapid pace, but there is actually various foreshadowing scattered among the broadcasted episodes so far. Someone said something, or an action of a character who was not present in the scene…I hope you will pay attention to these details, as they will play a part in the future development of the story.

[pinejayy]

╰┈➤Powerful little Human || Yandere Upper Moons

summary: requested by @the-clumsy-clown - they asked for a gn reader with sans ability and how would the upper moons react to them being powerful. they also requested for the upper moon to be a yandere.

a/n: sorry for the long wait, i've been having a lot going on. but thank you for being so patient uwu. also i've never played undertale so I don't know so much about san's powers // I had to ask my boyfriend to explain about his powers and with me being slow I really didn't understand so I hope you enjoy this uwu

Kokushibo

Now he's quite impressed by your power, he didn't know a human could obtain this power. He came across you in the woods and you were messing around with a helpless demon.

And of course he wanted you to himself, he was Upper Moon 1 and he was already so powerful and imagine what a powerful couple you guys would be. So yes he would be selfish and take you away from your life.

He doesn't care if you have a lover, friends or family he will take you away and force his love to you, and if you dare use your powers on him he will snap your neck.

You've tried fighting him to get away from him but it's never really worked, you can't kill him unless you have a special sword so you're stuck with him.

You are always so quick to get away from him, as if you're teleporting. But he always finds a way to grab you and take hold of you. You aren't getting away from so easy.

Douma

Now he's crazy over you, your power is amazing. He loves how quick you are, yet he really doesn't understand how you move so quickly. Are you that quick on your feet or are you teleporting?

But that doesn't matter, Douma will befriend you and at the end he will take you away. Take you away somewhere new, and if dare try to escape him he will do everything in his power to get rid of you. How dare you not love him!

And if dare summon something to hurt him he won't hesitate to summon ice clones so they could kill you.

Douma loves you and he will do anything for you, heck he will even show you off to the other Upper Moons. They wouldn't care so much about you. The only one who would truly feel some kind of pity is Akaza.

He will praise you, and you better accept his sweet comments because if you don't he'll punish you.

Akaza

Now he would want to protect you at all cost, to the point where he locks you away, yes he understands that you have powers of your own but still what if you die? He would blame himself..

You hate him, you would kill him but you don't have a sword so you're pretty much screwed over.

There are some times where you try escaping him, and you always depend on your powers to help you out but he knows you so well, so he knows what you will throw at him. But the one thing he does struggle is keeping up with your speed.

He doesn't understand your speed like for example you could be in front of him and all of the sudden you are across the room.

Akaza will keep you locked up, he just wants you safe. What if a Demon Slayer takes you away from him! So he's keeping you away from everyone for your own good.

Hantengu

He will be afraid of you, he's scared that you would hurt him. So he tends to keep you happy. Because what if he loses you, or what if you run away from him. He can't live without you. But don't underestimate him because he can and will snap back to you. Which is scary because he's always such a coward.

But when you do threaten him he will spit himself off and then the clones will deal with your attitude. And there's nothing you can do, and the clones will most likely be more harsh towards you than him.

Especially Sekido, he will not hesitate to get physical with you. And using your powers on the clones won't do too good, yes you are powerful and all. But you're fighting four powerful demons. You would be overwhelmed.

When Sekido tries getting his hands on you, you dodge his attacks which will make him even more mad.

Hantengu feels awful for sending the clones to you, but you're scary to him.

Gyokko

Now how can someone like you have these powers, a human with powers. He never knew it was even possible, so when he came across you and discovered your true self he wanted to keep you.

He did what any selfish demon would do, he ripped you away from your peaceful life and he dragged you to his hidden home/cave. And if dare fight him he’ll make sure to punish you.

Gyokko forces you to show off your powers to the other demons, he gets a confidence boost. You’re basically a prize to him.

You’re not too fond with him, so whenever he wants to snuggle you and do couple stuff you teleport away from him but it’s no use, he has pots all over the place so the second you move away from him he’s already next to you. Grabbing you and forcing you into an uncomfortable embrace.

If you were to summon a Gaster Blaster he’ll return his Blood Demon Art on you.

Gyutaro

He would be the ruthless from the Upper Moons, he hates how a human has such powers. Why on earth were you blessed? When he was human he was treated horribly and for that he despises you but yet again you catch his attention.

He doesn’t understand this odd feeling towards you and he hates himself for it. So he basically forces you into a relationship with him, and he was quite aggressive about it too. So you better say yes to him.

He will definitely help you out with your abilities, he wants you to grow stronger. He doesn’t want to date someone who is weak.

He enjoys teaching you combat skills and you dodge his attacks and punches and he gets quite angry but also he’s quite impressed. And your speed is wonderful as well!!

You hope one day you can escape him…one day. But don’t get to hopeful he always has his eyes on you.

[dracodazaii]

im sorry but i can never be a lyanna stan guys.

just lemme explain.

obviously this is only if she willingly went w rhaegar

To begin with, the situation in its simplest form is that Rhaegar and Elia are married, amicable yet not in love, and Rhaegar runs off with Lyanna, causing chaos to ensue amongst the realm.

Even if no war occured and everything was fine, how can Lyanna try to justify running away with a married man, especially on the way to her brothers wedding which feels very selfish, even if Brandon didn’t want to marry Cat, like she still ruined their wedding day.

Not to mention, that running with Rhaegar meant that shes inserted herself into his marriage which is Elia’s place. How nonsensical it is to run away with a married man and somehow marry him!

There’s two routes people go to justify it, and I’ll explain why I think they suck:

1) E-R-L is a polygamous marriage: This is not appeasable to the realm at all! Nobody will accept that. The only reason Aegon+Rhaenys+Visenya were accepted was because they were conquering Westeros, and like you can’t say shit about the guys conquering you!! Also the Targs were on thin ice then, and Maegor also tried, and look what happened afterwards!

2) E-R was annulled and R-L are married: I don’t think this is reasonable at all. Considering that Rhaegar is only HEIR, just like Daemon, for example. Both wanted annulments and both need the permission from the King and/or High Septon, but also considering how the likes of Aegon IV couldn’t annul his own marriage, do you really think a measly heir could?! At least in Daemon’s situation, he had no children, but as Aegon IV and Rhaegar both had kids (Elia giving birth twice in 3 years) theres no grounds for annulment, and it would disinherit his children potentially anyway, or even start a second Dance. As soon as you have a second wife, whether polygamous, annulled or dead first wife, war will be almost inevitable between the potential heirs.

Also Ik its not possible.. but can we stop with the E/R/L shipping in a serious manner (crackship is fine but in canon is 😐)

Like genuinely thinking mid-20s Elia would want to romance a 14 year old girl, would be fine with her husband romancing said 14 year old, or join in together, is so crazy to me. Like, yes Rhaegar is very much in the pedo-realm but why would Elia also follow suit??!

And like not to be a huge Robert Baratheon stan here (i hate GOT era him) but you can’t deny that it is the rebellion+it’s repercussions on his life, that change him so heavily into this twisted abusive, pedo man. He was not a great guy pre-rebellion, he slept around, was loud and rowdy, but I feel like you can’t really say that Lyanna somehow predicted that he would be this abusive evil man, tbh it seems like she just disliked his promiscuity which is valid, but in doing the same to Elia, her point gets invalidated in my eyes.

Also next point is the age-situation.

Now i know that obviously in a real life situation, a 14 year old girl is at no blame for the groomer actions of the adult…. however just look at how GRRM perceives this. like not as an “oh medieval girls married at 14, its fine” because they were still mentally children… but i mean how GRRM perceives relationships akin to R-L and characters by Lyannas age in ASOIAF-verse.

Ok so GRRM thinks R-L is romantic, which means that the groomer undertones aren’t necessarily meant to be there, and its meant to be more of a Romeo-Juliet situation (which heavily fucked over Romeos girl Rosaline ie Elia). He also believes Dany-Drogo and San-San is healthy, so I don’t think age heavily affects characters romantic feeling and actions much then.

Then if we see character Lyanna’s age, they’re treated as adults (yes some do have child impulses but overall adults). You have Robb acting impulsively like a kid, but ultimately being treated as an adult and being killed. I feel like even though they have kid impulses, they’re meant to get adult consequences for their actions.

Also ages as a whole is fucked up in ASOIAF in comparison to real world, like you have baby Rickon Stark going feral in Skagos, you have 3 year old Joffrey Velaryon/Strong squaring up to Aemond, and you even have 11 year old Benjicott Blackwood being an absolute beast of a warrior when in the real-world, he’d be just a kid, useless in defence.