#man what happened. actually i know exactly what happened

[spencerrreiddd]

Three, Two, One.

Summary: You and Spencer have worked in the BAU together for years, since the beginning but now, he's your boss and something quite big is happening in your life & soon to be Spencer's life after needing each others help to unwind.

Pairing: UnitChief!Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Angst, Cheating??

A/N: LOW & BEHOLD- here lays my first beauty. - my apologies is this is complete shit, I have not written in a while & I may have to get my special touch back. - anyways, i hope you guys like it ! 🔪🤍

three, two, one-

pregnant.

You were pregnant. You were pregnant with your bosses baby.

Spencer has not always been your boss, you actually started working for the BAU a month before he had even started working there.

He took over Emily's position once she moved up to FBI Director a few months back, at that congratulations party is when something sparked between you and Spencer- just, neither of you acted on it

You remember exactly how and when it happened too, it was the party after his promotion to Unit Chief. Goddamn promotion parties. You didn’t think you drank that much, until you woke up naked beside your new boss.

The temptation to pack a bag and hop on a flight across the world sounded so appetizing right now in your mind, too bad that it isn't realistic & you were going to have to face the facts and that was including, him.

There was never any “no speaking of this” - only us meeting up at my apartment, his apartment, our hotel rooms when we were on a case and needed to ‘unwind’ - the last time you and Spence had even slept together was 2-3 weeks ago anyway, of course when y'all needed to unwind after a case. Who could've guessed that one?

You were snatched from your thoughts when you heard your phone ringing from your bedroom- running for it, you were hoping that it wasn't Spencer.

‘Penelope Garcia 🖥️💖🍩’ 'thank the heavens' you silently think to yourself

“What’s up, Penny”

“Spencer is busy, he put me on duty to call you to find out if you plan to show your face at work today, ya know- since it is a work day and no show, no calls are frowned upon here" Your neck snaps to look at your alarm clock.

"Also, he wants to see you in his office once you get here"

7:32 A.M - have I seriously been staring at a positive pregnancy test for an entire hour?

“Fuck. See you soon. I'm leaving right now"

The short drive to work felt longer than it should have, probably because you took back roads to avoid having to see him again so soon. If you were already running late, what is a few extra minutes?

So many thoughts flying through your mind. How are you going to tell him? Oh hey, by the way, ya knocked me up so what’s the plan bud?!

“I'm doomed" You mutter to yourself getting out of your vehicle to go face reality, to go face the man of your now growing child. This has to be a nightmare.

Getting off of the elevator, the first person you saw was Alvez- boy, you were thankful that it wasn't Spencer, even though you'd be seeing him in just a few minutes.

"Looks like you saw a ghost"

"Yeah, Luke, something like that"

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not right now, I just want to forget about it- I need to see Pen" yeah, Y/N, like you'll actually be able to forget about it.

You make a beeline directly for Penelope's office, you have to tell someone about this before you actually lose your mind.

"Pen, I have news and it has to stay between you and I only"

"Your secret is safe with me, my love"

"I'm pregnant.. with Spencer's baby" you hesitated even saying the last part but wow, that felt good to get off of your chest, too bad it won't feel this easy with Spencer. Just thinking of having to tell him has you feeling like someone is choking you out.

"Oh."

"Oh? Pen, I am in a state of panic, a state of shock and you say 'Oh'- I don't know what to even begin to do here or how to even tell Reid that I am carrying his.. spawn"

"Spencer has a girlfriend or did, as far as I kn- okay, when did you find out” She cuts herself after seeing the look of horror on your face after hearing the beginning of her sentence, understandably so!

You were NOT the type of person to sleep with a taken man.

You were confident that you were about to face plant the ground right here and now in Penelope’s office. Did Spencer have a girlfriend or not? And were you about to go physically fight him for doing this to her, if so? You would be considering yourself jobless at that point.

“I found out this morning, literal minutes before you called me to get my ass here” you were in a pure state of panic and you had many good reasons as to why.

“How long has he had a girlfriend, Pen?” you continued- you were sure your skin was blistering with how hot it was at this point. Was it hot out of anger or the panic attack that was charging at you? Who knows anymore because you didn’t care enough in this single second to sit and determine that.

"I don't know, he just mentioned a date a few weeks ago then didn't mention anything again but I know he's still in communication with her and by the contact name in his phone, I don't think they are just friends" Penelope lets you in on all of this, nervously- like she isn't supposed to be saying anything at all.

"Thanks, Pen" You murmur to her her as you leave, you have to leave her office, the longer you are in there, the more it feels like the walls are literally closing in on you.

Walking into the hallway, you don't know which direction to go- You should probably go see Spencer and give him some bullshit excuse as to why you were late.

It was barely 8 A.M, maybe it was past 8 A.M now- your mind is going too fast to try and keep up with time. Regardless, it's too early in the morning to drop a pregnancy announcement on someone.

Finally, you muster up the courage to walk into the bullpen to go on the hunt for Spencer, as much as your mind and body are telling you to just bolt to your car and never look back.

"Tara, do you know where Spencer is?" You ask quietly, so that you don't disturb the others around you

"No, I saw him walk out of his office a few minutes ago but I haven't seen him go back in. If you find him before me, let me know because I need to go over some things with him"

"I'll go knock and see if he's back, thanks Tara"

You can visibly see his blinds are closed but majority of the time they are closed anyways, so that doesn't even matter to you. Walking up the flight of stairs to get to his office is exhausting, it feels like your legs weigh 1000 pounds each.

Standing in front of his office, you hear talking inside- You can very clearly hear a females voice inside talking to him but you honestly couldn't tell if she was over the phone or actually in his office by how muffled it is, it's safe to assume that it is a phone call.

"No going back now since you're already here" You mumble to yourself

Knock, knock, knock

"Come in" You hear a muffled Spencer behind the door

As your opening the door, you quickly hear him state to the woman on the phone 'I have to go, I'll see you tonight' - God, as if you haven't already wanted to run away all morning, it keeps getting worse.

"Pen said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, please sit" He says, gesturing to the chair

"Are you okay, Y/N? - You were late this morning, we've worked together for many years now and you've never once ran late, it's not like you not to communicate" You can see on his face that he cares, he didn't bring you in here to give you a lecture over something small, especially since this is your first time ever running late.

"Y-yes, I just woke up late and then getting to my car, I realized I had a flat, so I had to ask my neighbor to use his pump to fill it" You lied straight through your pearly white teeth and you were confident that he knew it to, just by the look he was giving you

He stares at you for a moment, trying to read you for anything. You were thankful for the fact that sometimes you were an impossible person to read

"Please, just communicate next time- It's not a big deal you were late, we just didn't know what was going on until I had Garcia get a hold of you"

"I will, you have my word- Am I good to go now?" You ask while standing up, yes, the talk went better than expected but you still wanted out of this office as fast as possible.

"Yes, thank you for coming to talk to me. Oh, also before I forget to mention it, at some point today whenever we both have free time, I would like to have a conversation. If it's just at the end of the day that's fine. It just needs to happen"

All you can bring yourself to do is nod your head and walk out of the room, based on the ass end of the phone call you walked in on- You have a pretty good hunch what he will be saying to you, especially after what Garcia also let you in on

It makes your heart ache- knowing that he could have a girlfriend, knowing this thing that the two of you had will be coming to an end, by no means were you and Spencer in a committed relationship but you would be lying to yourself, if you said you hadn't gained feelings for him and actually wanted more than just a 'fuck buddy' outcome

"So, is he up in the office? I really need to see him" Tara asks while already walking up there and away from you before you can even give her an answer.

You know for a fact that you are not going to be able to focus on work at all today even if you try your hardest, your anxiety is skyrocketing through the roof waiting for this conversation with Spencer and still, wondering when and how you are going to spill the beans about carrying his growing child.

"Alright, what is your issue? Are you pregnant?" Alvez is like a brother to you, nothing has been off limits in the talking department but this just sent you for a whole loop with how bluntly he asked.

You were confident that if it were possible, your eyes would've popped right out of their sockets and into your lap.

"Alvez, I am not discussing this with you right now" you whisper yelled to him, you didn't mean to come off like a bitch at all but god only knows who could've heard him.

"Well, Y/N, If I am being entirely honest. Penelope lets some things slip from time to time" He states like it's the most obvious thing ever.

All you can seem to do is look at him like a dear in the headlights, you feel your skin getting hot and prickly, it feels like there are someones hands around your throat squeezing harder and harder by the second.

"I have to go, I need to go home, I need air" It all comes out in a panic, you get up from your desk and bolt out of the bullpen and down the stairs, you don't even care to take the elevator. You cannot be stuck in a tight spot right now, a tight spot like an elevator.

"Please, just communicate" - "I will, you have my word" the conversation in Spencer's office goes through your mind and you know that you have to communicate with him that you just left work for the day and you don't plan to come back today, atleast- you couldn't and thankfully, it was Friday.

to: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'I have to excuse myself for the day, I'm sorry that I am having to send you a text message about this rather than coming to your office- this is me communicating with you. I will return back to my work duties on Monday, unless of course, a case pops up over the weekend then I will be here'

'also, I know we need to have a conversation, I also have something I need to tell you- let me know when you would like this conversation to take place' -

After sending your texts to Spencer, you set your phone on DND because at this point, you don't want to deal with anything or anyone else today, emergency or not.

Driving home was an entire blur, I mean you made it home alive, so that's what matters, I guess.

Walking inside, you plop onto the couch and turn on your favorite comfort show.. Modern Family.

A few hours later, you wake up in the exact place you laid down at- you thought your couch was so comfy until now when your entire body is in pain.. well, maybe it was your horrible sleeping position.

5:13 P.M -

"sweet baby jesus on a motorbike" You mutter to yourself after looking at the clock

"what are you doing to me?" You ask while poking your non-existent baby bump, granted it was a great sleep so you weren't trying to complain- you had heard from JJ in the past that early pregnancy is exhausting and you will sleep.. ALOT.

**BACK AT THE BAU**

"I just practically asked her if it was true but maybe in a more blunt way, it wasn't meant to come out so.. blunt" Alvez explains to Penelope who apparently watched you sprint out of work.

"I specifically told you not to say anything to her about it, I didn't even mean to let it slip to you of all people, Luke. I don't even think that they were in a relationship which makes this so much more difficult for her, as I could imagine" Pen snaps back at Luke.

"It's not going past me, I'm not opening my mouth to anyone about it" Luke says while walking to the Elevator with Pen, finally the work day was over

"Yeah, you let it slip to someone or who knows, I accidentally do again and Spencer is going to find out which right now, that doesn't need to happen" Pen states while being wildly unaware of who just came up behind them

"What doesn't Spencer need to find out right now and why can't he find out right now?" He asks from directly behind Alvez and Garcia, looking between the two of them for a answer.

Luke and Penelope both seem to jump straight out of their skin, not expecting to be crept up on- in reality, it was not Spencer's plan to creep up on them, he just happened to be leaving at the exact time as them and they didn't hear him coming up in the middle of their 'supposed to be' private conversation that was happening out in the open.

"I- uh it's nothing, well, sir, it's nothing in regards to me, i'm fine- it's not my place to tell you, it wasn't my place to tell, Luke- it just slipped and I am blabbering and I just realized that I need to get home" Before Spencer or Luke could say anything to her or anything more to Spencer, she's in the elevator with the doors closing.

'Nice Penelope, real nice' Luke thinks to himself, feeling a bit annoyed and slightly scared

Turning to look behind him, he sees Spencer's eyes boring right into him like he's staring right into Luke's soul, just waiting and searching for answers.

"Is there anything that you know, Alvez?" Spencer finally breaks the silence, otherwise who knows how long the two of them would've stayed standing there in the awkward paralyzing silence.

"I just know Y/N had to leave early today because, well I don't know why but I just know she left- you're her boss too, she should've communicated with you, right?"

"Right, Luke and she did, I have been trying to text and call her since I received her messages and nothing is going through" Reid is quick to bite back, getting quite annoyed himself being left in the dark and now that he is adding the pieces together, he's assuming these secretive things that "he isn't allowed to know about currently" are about you.

"I don't have any other information, what I told you is all I know- but I do need to get home to Roxy" Luke matter-of-factly states even though Luke knows that Luke is lying, well- not about Roxy but about the first part.

"Mhm, alright. Have a good night, Luke" Spencer gave up on trying to get any information out of the turnips that don't bleed but he is confident when he says this is about you and he will get to the bottom of it.

Back at your apartment, you've finally relaxed after a nice hot shower and ordering from your favorite chinese food joint and yes, still watching your comfort show but this time from the comfort of your own bed.

You still haven't even taken your phone off of DND mode, in your mind all you thought was 'if it is important enough, you know where I live and if you don't, contact Penelope Garcia' and the most important part, you were at peace.

You weren't worried about this pregnancy, you had accepted your fate, you weren't worried about Spencer or his new situ-relationship, you weren't even worried about what had happened with Alvez or Garcia. Peace.

"jesus Spencer, what the fuck" You yell out after walking out of the room and coming face to face with him, to say that you were startled was to say the absolute least

"Well, you would've known I was coming if someone didn't have their phone on airplane mode" He bit back with a darkness in his eyes and maybe a bit of worrisome, you couldn't tell everything with how dark it was.

"I know that I gave people a key to my house for emergencies but our conversation or how I was protecting my peace on a Friday night is not an emergency and frankly, if anyone was that worried, you would've sent someone sooner" You were once again fed up and wanted to continue to be alone with your favorite person, Phil Dunphy.

"I was going to drop our conversation until this weekend or even Monday, when we see each other in person again but funny enough, I was walking out to leave for the day when I walked into Luke's and Penelope's conversation and it was about you and something that I shouldn't be finding out about right now- would you happen to know anything about that?" Spencer replied, getting more and more fed up by the second.

If Spencer didn't know any better, he would say that you looked like you just saw a ghost- he was dead on the money about the conversation and some secret rooting back to you- now to just get it out of you.

Calming down after seeing the state you were rushing into, he comes to you with a softer approach - "Y/N, I want to help you. We've known each other for years, since I started working for the BAU, please let me know. Let me know what is going on. I'm not going anywhere"

You felt like you were about to up-chuck your chinese food all over this poor man, you know you need to tell him.

'Y/N you will never know the outcome of this unless you open your mouth and spill those words to him, be brave, be bold' You think silently to yourself.

"Spencer, I'm pregnant - You are the last person I slept with. I am pregnant with your baby"

if this is horrible, sue me - i haven't written in forever and honestly, this is a little bit longer than i thought it would be - whoops!

FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED

& yeah, yeah- i left this on a cliffhanger, if you beautiful humans actually like this, i had planned to make this a 2 parter story or who knows, if i make the next part longer then it could be 3 or more parts.

[sluttywonwoo]

the roster | part one of three

pairing: christopher bahng + lee sangyeon + choi seuncheol x f!reader

summary: what happens when all the guys on your roster find out about each other?

warnings: see here (mdni!!!)

word count: 4.4k

series masterlist

You’d been set up. You should have known something was off when Sangyeon texted you to come over. He never texted you first. He was the most reserved of the three, always letting you be the one to reach out to him if you wanted to hook up. 

You shot him an accusatory glare but he pointedly avoided your gaze, choosing instead to stare at something on the ceiling that was apparently much more interesting.  

Seungcheol was the first to speak, of course. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?” 

You figured there was no point in lying. They already had you cornered. “Yeah, kind of.” The three of them scoffed in unison, making you hold up your hands in defense. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other like that!”

In fact, you had chosen each of them precisely because you thought there wouldn’t be any conflicts of interest. They were all in different groups, all the leaders of said groups which you thought would mean that they were almost always busy with their members. You didn’t think they had time for friends. Let alone friends who were of different ages and also leaders. 

Chris was the biggest gamble. You knew that he knows almost everyone in the industry and has a lot of friends but you didn’t think he knew the other two guys you were fucking well enough to put together that you were actually sleeping with all of them. 

Everything had been going so well. You had perfected your system over the months, using the boys’ schedules to your advantage so there was never any overlap. Seungcheol got weekends, Sangyeon got Wednesdays and Fridays, and Chris got 3ams on Tuesdays, Thursdays, (and sometimes Fridays if you weren’t sleeping over at Sangyeon’s) because that’s just when he was free. You keep your Mondays and the last full week of every month free so that you have time for yourself. Otherwise you’d drive yourself crazy spending all your time with men. 

You had never agreed to be exclusive with any of them. You made it more than clear that wasn’t what you were looking for. Still, they must have thought you weren’t seeing anyone else because all three of them had shown up to this confrontation and all three of them looked pissed. 

“Is it just the three of us?” Chris chimes in. 

“How much time do you think I have?” you mutter. 

“Just answer the question.”

You look away from them. “Yeah, there’s no one else.”

“Lucky us,” Seungcheol sneers. 

“Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted something casual,” you remind him, your tone icy. “You wanted to sleep around with no strings attached and I agreed.”

You’ve known Seungcheol the longest. You were friends first, through your job, but it quickly turned into something more. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other, spending nights and mornings together. Going to sleep and waking up and stealing kisses in elevators. Talking on the phone for hours and planning dates in the different cities he was touring in. 

He shut you down before you could get too delusional about it, though, stating plainly that all he wanted was a strict friends-with-benefits sort of situation. You still remember the feeling of your throat burning as you fought back tears, telling him that was perfectly fine, that you felt the same way. 

You couldn’t let yourself get too attached to a man who didn’t want you in the same way you wanted him so you looked for a distraction and found one in Lee Sangyeon. You met him through Jacob, a younger member of his group. Sangyeon was the perfect distraction. He was charming and funny, never one to take himself too seriously. He was a real gentleman and it didn’t hurt that he had a huge dick. 

You were the one to broach the topic of nonexclusivity with him this time, wanting to beat him to it. You knew exactly what all of these idols wanted. Choi Seungcheol had taught you that lesson early on. Sangyeon took it well, at least, as well as you expected him to. He told you he was on the same page as you, that he was just looking for something casual and you believed him. Now, looking at the expression on his face as he listens to the two other men talk, you’re not sure. 

And then Chris just sort of fell into your lap. You weren’t looking for anything else. Juggling two men was enough work. You just so happened to run into him at some after party, stopping him to compliment his music. One thing led to another and you were shoving your tongue down his throat in a dark closet. Apparently he had a thing for praise. 

Neither of you had to be the one to friend(swithbenefits)zone the other. You brought it up one night as you laid in his bed together and he was quick to agree. 

“Yeah, I don’t have time for anything more than... this, right now,” he sighed. He sounded a little regretful about it, like he thought he was being an asshole despite you voicing the same sentiment. 

So you hadn’t been doing anything wrong- even if your brain liked to tell you otherwise sometimes. You defined the (non)relationships with each of them, used protection with all of them, you weren’t leading anyone on... it had just so happened to get a little bit... messy, for lack of a better word. 

-

“No strings attached doesn’t mean I want you to fuck my friends!” Seungcheol huffs, running a hand through his hair. 

“I didn’t know you were friends with them!” you cry, throwing your head back onto the back of the couch in frustration and accidentally banging your head against the wall in the process. 

“Are you okay?” Sangyeon asks, wincing. 

The other two side-eye him. 

“I’m fine. But why am I here? Did you bring me here just to yell at me?”

“Not exactly,” Chris says, smirking. 

You look to the other men for an explanation but neither of them offer any further explanation. 

“Then why?”

Chris slides his hands in his front pockets and shrugs. “Well, if you’re up for it, the three of us thought we might have a little fun with you.”

“What does that mean?”

Seungcheol steps forward and mirrors Chan’s stance, cocking his head to the side for good measure. You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes, knowing it would only make things worse for you. 

To be fair, all the posturing would be a lot more annoying if they weren’t the hottest men you’d ever seen in your life. 

“I think you know what that means,” Cheol adds, supplying absolutely nothing helpful. 

“Obviously I don’t or I wouldn’t have asked,” you argue. 

Seungcheol whistles and then looks to his friends. “Is she this bratty with you guys?” Chris gives an ‘eh’ hand motion whilst Sangyeon nods outright. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Did you think you were getting special treatment?” you taunt, surprising even yourself. 

He scowls but doesn’t respond, probably in an effort to maintain some semblance of self-control in front of the other two. If it were just you and him, you’d have a hand around your throat already. And maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe your mouth was working faster than your brain in order to get a specific... reaction out of them like you normally would. Or maybe your mouth just liked to get you in trouble. 

From the way they were acting, they obviously hadn’t lured you here just to hang out. It had to be some sort of sex thing, right? You certainly weren’t opposed, you just needed to figure out what game they were playing so that you could be dealt in. 

“We were curious about which one of us you like the most,” Chris says finally. At least someone was interested in getting to the fucking point. 

You blink at him then turn to look at Seungcheol who just nods in confirmation. “You want me to... rank you? Why?”

“You’re the one who has us on a little roster,” Sangyeon points out, sounding a little mean for the first time tonight. “Surely you’ve thought about it before.”

You shake your head. “I haven’t. I mean, I like all of you guys! I wouldn’t hang out with you if I didn’t.”

“We don’t care about hanging out, we want to know who you think is the best in bed,” Seungcheol clarifies. 

“What?”

“You know, who’s the best fuck?”

“Why do you even care?” you ask. “Like what are you getting out of this?”

“Just a little competition between friends,” Chris assures you with a wink. 

“I... wouldn’t even know where to start,” you insist. 

“We thought you might say that,” Seungcheol hums as he steps closer to you. “Which is why we thought we could test it in real time.”

“In real time?”

“Yeah, let us fuck you, then you tell us who’s best.”

“Right now?” 

Seungcheol shrugs. “You asked why we brought you here.”

“And you just assumed I’d be down?”

“Yeah,” all three of them say at the same time. 

It’s your turn to scoff. So that’s what they think of you. You shouldn’t have expected anything different, to be fair. It wasn’t like you were a saint. You literally had your dick appointments with all of them penciled into your Google Calendar every week. 

“C’mon, baby, we know you by now,” Chris adds, plopping down on the sofa next to you. He stretches his arm across the back of it like guys like to do, opening himself up for you to lean into him if you wanted to. “Are you saying you don’t want us to take turns fucking your brains out?”

You stay silent. 

“Should we take that as a yes?” Sangyeon asks. 

“I’d say so,” Chris agrees.

Seungcheol claps his hands together decisively and then points to the man sitting next to you. “Chan, you’re up first then, yeah? That’s how you do it in your group, right? Youngest first?”

He’s mocking him but Chris doesn’t acknowledge it. If there’s one thing you know about Bang Chan, it’s that he’s not one to back down from a challenge, and while going first in this sort of competition must be daunting he doesn’t look the least bit shaken. 

“Are we doing this here?” he asks the older two. 

Sangyeon considers it and shrugs. “We should probably move to the bed, right?” 

“Dude, it’s your house.”

“There’s more room on the bed,” Sangyeon decides, offering you his hand. 

You take it and he helps you up from the couch. You step in front of the boys and lead them to Sangyeon’s bedroom, calling “it’s this way,” over your shoulder just to be a menace. You can’t see the faces they make behind you but you hear Sangyeon chuckle under his breath. 

You flick on one of his table lamps and make yourself comfortable on the bed, patting the spot next to you for Chris to join you. He does and puts a hand on your thigh, squeezing your thigh comfortingly. Seungcheol and Sangyeon lean against the dresser across from the bed in the most non-awkward way they can manage. 

Somehow, they both still look intimidating despite the fact that they’re essentially about to be cucked by one of their closest friends. 

“What now?” you ask. 

Chris brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek and leans in. “Now, we do this.”

He kisses you gently at first. Whether it’s to ease your nerves or his own, you aren’t sure, but he starts slow, building up to what you’re used to. His thumb strokes your cheek as if to reassure you as he deepens the kiss and slips his tongue into your mouth. His other hand that had been resting on your hip fumbles with your pants. 

“Just pretend they aren’t there,” he whispers. 

It’s impossible to do when you can feel the weight of their stares on you but you try to relax anyway, reminding yourself that something like this has been a fantasy of yours for a while now. You never thought it would actually happen and you definitely didn’t think it would be with them but with your luck you honestly shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. 

“This isn’t going to work if you don’t relax,” Chris continues, low enough for only you to hear. “I kind of have something to prove here.”

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you assure him. “You’re great in bed.”

“They don’t know that,” he hisses. 

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot this is just a competition to you guys,” you grumble. 

He chuckles. “What, you want me to make love to you in front of them? Because I will.”

“I think that’d be even more embarrassing, somehow.” 

“Exactly, now lay down and let me fuck you brainless so you can’t overthink anymore.”

He had such a way with words, that Bang Chan did. 

He shifts so you can lay down and take your pants off. Your shirt goes next, leaving you in just your underwear. It’s the most exposed you’ve ever felt even though you’ve been completely naked in front of all three men before. 

Chris snaps the elastic waistband of your cotton panties against your hip and smirks. “Cute.”

You pout, ready to defend your granny panties but Sangyeon pipes up from the other side of the room before you can.

“She doesn’t care what she wears over to mine because she knows it won’t stay on long anyway.”

That was actually true. You dressed the most comfortably to hang out with Sangyeon because you knew he wouldn’t care. It wasn’t like Chris or Seungcheol cared more, and you didn’t really dress up for them either, but there was a notable difference between the amount of effort you put in for each man, something you hadn’t noticed until just now. 

“She wet yet?” Seungcheol asks, sounding bored. 

You know it’s just a front so his jealousy and impatience won’t shine through because it’s not a very good one. Seungcheol is not and never has been good at hiding his feelings. 

Chris shoots him a look. “I was getting to that.” 

Seungcheol holds his hands up in defense but thankfully keeps his mouth shut. 

Chris sucks in a breath of patience and brings his hand in between your legs, fingers tracing your slit. Your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment because you are, in fact, wet. You have been since they sat you down and stood in front of you like you were going to be scolded for doing something wrong. 

“Yeah, she’s fucking wet,” Chris rasps. “Jesus Christ, baby. I bet your joggers are ruined too.”

His teasing makes you try to close your thighs around his hand but his reflexes beat yours and he catches your knee to force your legs back open. 

“Nice try.”

“You’re the worst.”

His fingers start to wander beneath the fabric of your panties, feather light touches that already have you gasping for breath. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do, I really do.”

“Want me to stop?” he threatens.

“What happened to having something to prove?” you mutter back. 

“Always such a fucking brat,” he muses, jaw tight. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love that about me.”

“You’re consistent, I’ll give you that.”

Chris leans down and kisses you again, presumably to get you to stop talking. It works, of course. He lets his tongue explore your mouth while his hands explore your body, still not giving you what you really want. 

Eventually, he slips a finger inside, taking you by surprise and making you gasp as you grab at him for something to squeeze. He offers you his arm and you take it, fingernails digging into his bicep. 

“It’s just one finger, baby,” Chris coos. 

“Feels.... good, though,” you squeak. 

He adds another right as you start to get used to the feeling of the first and you have to take a deep breath to keep yourself from making another embarrassing noise. 

“Don’t hold back. Let the boys know how good I’m making you feel.”

Seungcheol scoffs, tonguing his cheek. “You don’t have to fake it for him, babe.” 

“Are you sure you guys are friends?” you pant. 

They don’t answer, leaving you to draw the conclusions yourself. You’re sure they were friends... whether they would be after this was another story. 

Chris crooks his fingers up, knowing you won’t be able to stay quiet once he does. He’s right. You moan, albeit quietly, and arch into his touch. 

“So what are the parameters of this competition?” Chris asks the other two and turns his head towards them while he continues to work his fingers in and out of you. 

“What do you mean?” Sangyeon asks back. 

“Like, does foreplay count? Or is she judging solely based on our stroke game?”

Seungcheol considers it for a moment before looking to Sangyeon. “What do you think?”

“I think the judgment should include foreplay,” he says. “Foreplay is part of sex after all.”

“Good point,” Chris agrees. “Any other rules?” They shake their heads. “What about you, baby? Do you have any rules for us?”

You purse your lips as you think, trying not to lose focus with his fingers inside of you. “Just don’t go too hard. I do have to work on Monday.”

It’s only Friday night now, but knowing them, you’ll probably be sore for at least a couple of days afterward. 

Chris laughs. “We’ll do our best. Right, guys?”

They mumble what sounds like an agreement and Sangyeon even gives you a thumbs-up. 

“Can I keep going?” Chris asks you. 

“You didn’t really stop,” you point out.

He had still been fingering you lazily throughout the whole aside. It wasn’t enough to get you off but it was certainly distracting. You had to try very hard to concentrate on what they were saying. 

“C’mon, this is nothing,” he teases, bringing his thumb to your clit as he starts to kiss your neck. “How’s that?” he murmurs into your ear, 

“G-good...”

“Just good? Must be doing something wrong, then.”

Before you can deny it, he adds a third finger, earning a loud cry from you this time. You feel him grin against your throat, hiding his smug satisfaction from the other two. 

“Spread your legs wider for me, baby. Let them see.”

You do as you’re told even though it’s hard. It’s so much. You want to squeeze them around his hand again but you know you’ll only get told off if you do. 

“Good girl,” he praises, making you whimper. 

“That’s all it takes, doesn’t it?” Seungcheol mutters. “We just have to call you a good girl and you’re making a mess all over us, right?”

You squirm, arousal and embarrassment pooling in your belly. You can tell Chris wants to give Cheol shit for butting in when it’s supposed to be his turn, but he doesn’t because his words are technically helping him. You get even wetter around his fingers, a detail Chris elects not to share with the room. 

You’re sure they can see it, though, or at least hear it. The sounds are obscene. 

It’s mortifying. You want to die. But first you want to cum. 

Two of your favorite things about Chris are his hands. They’re huge, especially for a guy his height, and absolutely gorgeous. Thick veins run across the backs of them from his knuckles up through his forearms- he’s a nurse’s wet dream, and yours. You’ve spent an absurd amount of time tracing them with your own fingers when you’re laying in bed together after hooking up and more often than not, it’s enough to make you want to go again. 

He’s good with them too because of course he is. Bang Chan is annoyingly good at everything he does, including but not limited to: making you cum. 

“Already?” Chris muses under his breath. “Does having an audience turn you on that much?”

“Sh-shut up.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who can take their fingers away any time they want to.”

“No, please!” you protest.

“That’s what I thought. Do you want to cum on my fingers? Or should I make you wait for it?” He’s talking to himself at this point but you answer anyway. 

“I-I don’t know...”

“Probably should let you, huh? You’re still so tight.”

You don’t get another word out before it hits you, your body curling in on Chan’s hand as he finger fucks you through your first orgasm of the night. As soon as you come down, he’s taking his fingers out of you and sucking them into his mouth, kissing you right after so you can taste yourself on his lips. 

“Good job, baby,” he murmurs into your mouth as he adds his tongue back into the mix. “Ready for me now?”

“Mhm...”

“Condoms are in the nightstand,” Sangyeon says, nodding in the direction of the bedside table. 

Chris reaches over and pulls the drawer out, whistling at the other things he finds rolling around in the compartment. 

“This hers?” he asks, holding up a vibrator.

“Who else’s would it be?” Sangyeon mutters. 

“I don’t know what you do in your free time, man.”

He drops the toy back in its place and grabs a condom from the box tucked in the corner of the same drawer. The odds of one size fitting three different men were slim, but having slept with each of them you’re sure they’ll be able to make it work. 

Chris hands you the foil packet, allowing you to do the honors of tearing it open with your teeth while he works on getting naked. 

Seungcheol whistles jeeringly at Chan as he takes his cock out and pumps it a couple of times. You can see the back of Chan’s neck flush red but he remains steady as he rolls the latex on. You realize it must be difficult for him to have an audience too, though he has nothing to be self conscious about. Even if they aren’t showing it, you know the other two have to be impressed.

He’s the perfect balance of long and thick and just like his hands, defined veins run up the length of his shaft. You’ve spent what feels like hours tracing those veins with your tongue, watching him shiver under your touch. Most dicks aren’t pretty but Christopher Bahng’s certainly is.

“Ready?” Chris asks, rubbing your thigh with his palm.  

“Yeah,” you breathe.

Since he already made you cum, he’s able to slip in without much resistance- but he’s big enough that the stretch is still intense, making your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stifle a whimper. 

He gives you a moment to adjust once he’s fully inside you, teasing only a little bit with slight movements of his hips. 

“God, that feels good,” you moan.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs sweetly, “you’re taking it so well for me.”

He brushes a couple of strands of hair out of your eyes so that you can see him properly. Obstructed view or not, he’s beautiful on top of you. His own bangs have already started to stick to his forehead and the pink flush of embarrassment has somewhat faded and turned into that of exertion, spreading from the back of his neck to his chest and face and matching the kiss-bitten swell of his lips. The muscles in his arms and shoulders are engaged with the effort it takes to hold himself above you, making him look even bigger. 

His eyes are soft, even as the rest of his features take on a more sinister expression. That was one of the things that made sex with Chris so good. He genuinely cares for you, not just as a lover, but as a person. Lots of guys put effort into making the other party feel good during sex but that doesn’t mean they care about them. It’s not like that with Chris. 

“Want it faster?” he asks you. You nod. “Ask nicely.”

You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. 

“Please...”

He frees one of his hands and uses it to stroke your cheek. “‘Please,’ what?”

“Faster,” you squeak. 

“Is that the best you can do?” Seungcheol scoffs from the sidelines. 

“I’ll let her off easy this time,” Chris responds. “She can hardly think straight as it is, isn’t that right?”

Another nod. 

You get what you want and Chan picks up the pace, snapping his hips into yours in quick, shallow thrusts. 

“You’re getting tighter again,” he grunts, faltering imperceptibly. “You’re making this too easy for me.”

One of the other two makes what you assume is a snide remark but you don’t catch it because everything starts to fade into the background as you start to cum around Chan’s cock. It catches both of you off guard, you can tell. It isn’t unusual for you to finish from penetration alone but it usually takes a lot longer. 

“Holy shit, you’re so- fuck, you’re going to make me cum.”

He keeps going after you come down, chasing his own release. It’s almost enough to send you into a third orgasm but he cums before you can get there which is both a relief and a disappointment. 

You whine as the feeling ebbs and let yourself go boneless underneath him. He follows suit and collapses face first next to you on the mattress. 

“Sorry,” he whispers to you. “I would’ve kept going but I didn’t want you to be too sensitive for them.”

You nod in understanding and pat him appreciatively on the back. 

The room is quiet as the three men wait for you to catch your breath. Chris ensures you’re okay before rolling off the bed and joining the other two by the dresser. He mentions something about cleaning you up when you’re all done and offers to fetch you a glass of water. 

“There’s a Brita in the fridge,” Sangyeon tells him after also pointing him in the direction of the cabinet that holds the cups. 

He disappears into the hall and you gather what little strength you have to pop your head up and address the two remaining leaders at the foot of the bed. 

“Who’s next?”

this has been in the works for way too long lol but lmk what you think! i always appreciate feedback!!

tags: @minghaosimp @butterfliesinthenightsky @lelestarmy @stolasisyourparent @brownbunnyb @tinkerbell460 @cixrosie

add yourself to the taglist here

[starcurtain]

Hello! I just saw your latest post and you might have been referring to my ask if it was the one about Ratiorine's differing philosophies or of what philosophies they abide by (existentialism, absurdism, etc) then that's me! If you weren't referring to that I apologize for the confusion. Sending it off anon this time so maybe it doesn't disappear 🥲

Sorry for the ask disappearing the first time; I'm not sure what happened, and I was so sad because I had been carefully holding on to it to answer it! I'm glad you were able to resend.

I do have to say first that philosophy is not my area of expertise, so there may be much more qualified philosophy buffs out there who can answer this more accurately than me, but I'll give it a go with my personal understandings of the characters:

First, Ratio is the easier of the two I think. As many people have said, he's a good fit for existentialism. His entire shtick is basically believing in the power of the individual to improve and enrich their own life, to fight valiantly regardless of the hardships imposed by their life's circumstances, and to make themself into a better person by their own choices.

It's important to underscore that this means Ratio believes in self-determination, in the idea that people's lives are not foreordained but are actually actively shaped each day by personal decisions. Therefore, people have inherent freedom to decide the course of their own lives by accepting what they approve of, refusing to accept what they disapprove of, and harnessing their own individual power to ultimately achieve self-actualization.

Essentially, Ratio works under the impression that life is not guided by something as intangible as destiny, and no matter where you start off in life, what ultimately happens to you is within your control (or at least within the control of whoever controls you). This is likely a small part of why it grates on him so badly that he wasn't recognized by Nous, because the fact that one can dedicate everything to a goal and still not achieve that goal runs contrary to his central philosophy.

If he believes that people have the power to determine the course of their own lives, then what does it say about him, who fought so hard to do exactly as he claims even idiots can do--seize control his own fate--and yet didn't succeed? Are there some things outside of man's power? It's enough to make even a renowned doctor question himself, and Ratio decided to come out on the side of "It's a personal failing, not a flaw in my philosophy." He literally said "Skill issue" to himself.

Changing tack a tiny bit here, I think it's also important to emphasize that there is a difference between existentialism and nihilism even though these philosophies dovetail. Again, I'm not an expert in philosophy, so my understanding is very limited, but the basic idea of existentialism is that "existence comes before essence"--that is, things start as a blank slate and gain nature and meaning after the fact. We are not created by some grand design, nor is there any inherent "purpose for living." Things just exist because they exist.

This is where existentialism intersects with nihilism, at the starting point that existence is inherently meaningless. But, in my personal opinion, nihilism as a philosophy fails to move beyond that. Pure nihilism is ultimately self-defeating because it leaves us with no motivation to commit to growth. It's a philosophy antithetical to the continuation of life as we know it. Existence is meaningless and any meaning you personally derive from existence is also meaningless, so why bother attempting to derive any meaning at all? This complete apathy is the Device IX that Star Rail paints as so dangerous.

And Ratio is not this way at all. His philosophy absolutely reaffirms that life can have meaning, so long as people create that meaning for themselves. He simultaneously asserts that anything that people create is not meaningless ...which basically means that meaning itself cannot be meaningless. (If that makes any sense to anyone.)

Frankly, I would argue that this philosophy may be a core part of why Ratio has not been recognized by Nous so far, rather than simply his "being a good person." (Nous is a robotic AI super-computer, why would THEY care about the presence or lack of human empathy?) Ultimately, Ratio's central philosophy about people being capable of determining their own fates and purposes also applies to his understanding of knowledge--knowledge is not something which is inherent in certain beings from birth or limited to the purview of the "special" (geniuses), but is attainable by all people. People are not "born talented" or "born untalented," they are simply "educated" or "uneducated," with the only barrier between these categories being one's own personal willingness to change. The mundane can become the divine--if they work hard enough at it.

Thus, knowledge is not wealth to be hoarded, but a currency to be spent to enrich other members of humanity.

(By the way, completely random aside--it also surprises me that everyone relates Ratio to Alhaitham from Genshin when they literally have such a glaring fundamental discrepancy in their understanding of the concept of wisdom... But anyway, back on topic!)

Ratio may (sort of) respect the members of the Genius Society, may recognize their incredible knowledge and abilities, but at the heart of the matter lies a single all-important question: Does Ratio even really believe in "genius" as a distinction (other than as a concept to insult himself)? Does he truly believe there is barrier between brilliance and idiocy that "ordinary people" can never cross?

He speaks convincingly about geniuses being different from "the ordinary," but if his core belief is that people have the power to pull themselves up out of despair and achieve greatness through effort and self-development, rather than some form of luck or god-given talent at birth, then... do born "geniuses" even really exist? Is there really an insurmountable difference between brilliant and mundane?

If knowledge is the equalizer of all sentient beings, do we not all have at least the initial capacity to become geniuses?

I personally think this central distinction about the capacity for knowledge among all humanity is the actual deciding factor in Ratio's rejection from the Genius Society, because, at the end of the day... how do you become a member of the "Genius Society" when you fundamentally reject the distinction of "genius" as an exclusive category from the start?

Ratio wants to share knowledge and uplift everyone (even if he thinks most people are starting off at the rock bottom known as idiocy).

His mission is diametrically opposed to the concept of a "Genius Society" in the first place.

He wanted in to the cool kids club because he desperately craves validation and acceptance, but the philosophical values of the Genius Society are ultimately incompatible with his own. In short, he would have to cease to be "Veritas Ratio" to succeed in joining the geniuses.

Okay, okay, back to the original point again, and just one more note about Ratio: Even though existentialism also goes hand-in-hand with absurdism, I don't think Ratio is far enough down the philosophical rabbit hole to believe in the wider definition of absurdism. Although I think he does agree with the inherent meaninglessness of existence, I don't think he views existence itself as truly irrational and the universe as as manifestation of unknowable chaos. I think he'd at least like to imagine that there are some ontological principles and inherent laws governing the operations of reality, and I think he does believe that certain things can be predicted with the application of enough thought... He certainly seems to believe in some form of "objective truth," at the very least.

I think he'd at least like to believe the universe is semi-orderly, even if he might deep down admit this is also wishful thinking.

So, to me he reads as a strong metaphor for pure existentialism, with deliberate rejections to both nihilism's apathy and absurdism's lean toward solely subjective reality.

PHEW, this is already long and I still have a whole other character to talk about... I had more to say about this topic than I thought. Sorry for the long read!

Anyway... Aventurine.

I've seen all sorts of things thrown around for Aventurine's philosophy, and while I think he does inherit a bit of Acheron's absurdism by the end of 2.1, I actually don't think Aventurine is an absurdist, an existentialist, or a nihilist.

I think Aventurine is a struggling fatalist.

He doesn't like it. We see him actively question it, but ultimately, he does come back to the concept of destiny over and over.

First, I think it's important to draw a clear distinction between Ratio and Aventurine: Ratio's existentialism is a philosophy that technically works even in a theological vacuum. Nous doesn't have to exist for Ratio's philosophy to function. Ratio's belief in the self-determination of humanity is, in fact, somewhat opposed to belief in aeons in the first place, and only works because technically the aeons of Star Rail used to be human (or were originally human creations). It's essentially an atheist viewpoint.

But Aventurine is a religious character. Like, he's just... religious. That's a fact about him. Even though we do hear his doubts, at the end of the day, he actually believes in Gaiathra, and believing in a omniscient supernatural being that is not human in origin (is from outside the aeon system) comes with a whole set of philosophical foundations that most aeon-worshipping characters just don't have in Star Rail. (Sunday is the obvious exception here, by the way.)

Kakavasha's like the one practicing pagan in the middle of an atheist convention. Awkward.

Being more serious: Religion requires faith. Faith requires the ability to believe in things you cannot verify with empirical facts. To believe in things you can only feel, never see. The belief that a goddess is watching over you, blessing you, and guiding you requires you to also accept the idea that events in your life are not always in your own control--that some of what occurs to you is decided by powers beyond your comprehension.

In essence, faith requires belief in fate. And that leads to fatalism.

No matter how much he doesn't like it, no matter how much we see him struggle with it, Aventurine does actually seem to believe in the concept of fate. He believes that some events in life are destined to occur, that some things are outside of individuals' control, and that ultimately not everything can be changed.

This is the dead opposite of Ratio's mindset: No matter how hard we fight, how far we push ourselves... in the end, sometimes people fail. Sometimes the only answer to our endless struggles is that we die, as we were destined to, before ever achieving the greatness we sought or the futures we were promised.

As an aside, I don't think faith or religion are necessarily the only factors connecting Aventurine to this particular philosophy either. Even removing theological aspects from the conversation, his extreme focus on the gambling aesthetic suggests a strong connection to fatalism too--if not a goddess, then one's fate may as well be in the hands of luck itself, of the whims of the rolling dice--or the push and pull of "powers that be," those figures of authority in the room where it happens, who make their shady deals according to preset rules and expectations, every bet resulting in an ultimately predictable outcome.

(He keeps gambling and gambling, hoping that he'll get a different result than the one he knows is inevitable...)

This is, of course, an inherently pessimistic mindset, a perfect dark-mirror to Ratio's deep-down optimism. Fatalism puts humanity into a position of powerlessness. All hopes and dreams are given over to the goddess, by whose judgment and whims the actual events of one's life are decided. Pain and poverty are inevitable trials. Suffering and death are foreordained.

And yet Aventurine has to cling to this, as much as he doubts it, as much as he hates the idea that things in his life are beyond his power to control.

Because if fate doesn't exist... If it wasn't destiny, if the tragedies of his life weren't trials from the goddess, if things weren't supposed to go this way... Then every single thing in his life really is meaningless. Everything he suffered, everyone he loved and loss, his mother's and sister's sacrifices, the torment he went through--just sheer bad luck. All of it, completely and utterly meaningless.

How can you convince yourself to keep living, in the face of such supreme and all-encompassing Nihility?

This is the central struggle of Aventurine's character, the actual mental and emotional journey we see him undertaking from 2.0 to 2.1. He is literally on the precipice, swinging between a viewpoint that he hates--his fatalistic belief in destiny--and an entirely self-defeating philosophy--nihilism--whose only possible final outcome is suicide.

This is what his talk with Acheron at the end of 2.1 is all about. This is how she saves him. In that final cutscene, we witness Aventurine reach a mental compromise, managing to finally reconcile his necessary faith in the concept of destiny with the reality that life may truly begin meaningless--but beginning meaningless does not mean staying meaningless, and believing in destiny does not bar you from making your own choices or finding your own purpose in life.

Later on in Penacony's story, we literally see Acheron use Ratio's philosophy to reject the same nihility that crept into Aventurine's:

Acheron wards off nihility's apathy through an absurdism all her own, but one which manages to enclose both Ratio's and Aventurine's otherwise incompatible mindsets: We have no way of ever knowing for certain whether the events of our lives are fated or mere nonsense. We have no way of knowing if our choices are our own or foreordained. But we don't need to know this to find meaning and value in them. Whether life is nothing more than unpredictable chaos or a predetermined pattern of cause and effect, what matters is what you make of it.

Ultimately, I think that this post has really helped me recognize just how well Aventurine and Ratio work as philosophical foils.

They really are perfect opposites.

Aventurine's fatalism is deterministic, while Ratio's existentialism is self-deterministic. Aventurine's philosophy is inherently pessimistic; Ratio's is inherently optimistic. Ratio's philosophy operates on a core belief in the freedom of humanity to decide their own paths in life, while Aventurine hates but does ultimately believe that people aren't really in control, that even if no gods are guiding us, we can't rise above our own natures. Ratio's philosophy makes meaning from growth; Aventurine's makes meaning from loss...

And they both struggle with fundamental doubts in their own philosophies, core questions that are directly tied to their own lives. Aventurine worries that his faith might be misplaced, that destiny might not exist, and that everything he suffered might have been in pointless, empty vain. Ratio faces the crisis of recognizing that his core belief in the power of humankind to determine their own paths and make their own meaning might not actually apply to everyone--because it doesn't seem to apply to himself.

It's literally only by bridging this philosophical binary with Acheron's anti-Nihility absurdist rhetoric that we can reach some sort of healthy outcome. That's why it takes both Ratio's note and Acheron's comments to finally lead Aventurine to acceptance. Ratio probably needs a little bit of Aventurine's "If you didn't make it into the Genius Society, there's got to be a reason" mindset to finally reach some peace with his situation too.

I'm not even a philosophy expert and even I can see that there's really only one takeaway here: These two characters were totally written with each other in mind.

Aventurine and Ratio need each other on core metaphysical levels! 😂

It's so good guys. You can't see it, but I'm making chef's kisses, I promise.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Kids Are All Right | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: recovering from an assault (heed this warning pls my loves), canon gore, canon violence, angst

Word Count: 4773

A/N: Heyyyy.... accidentally posted two at the same time haha. No episode this Saturday as a result; I'm sorry, y'all!! But a little extra treat today!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and Sam spoke almost twice daily after your heart-to-heart leaving Lincoln. You were incredibly grateful to still have his friendship; even if your phone calls had to be carefully maneuvered around times when Dean was in the room. 

You were unsure how to feel about the fact that Sam was still trying to find ways to break Dean’s deal knowing he’d die if that happened but would also support your friend in whatever his decision was. You refused to have any involvement in picking between the lives of the two brothers, though, even if you were falling deeper and deeper in love with him with each passing day. 

Just the thought of seeing him again was enough to have butterflies swirling in your stomach. You were terrified of what he’d say to you, yes, but you missed him so dearly. As chaotic as he could be at times, he truly was your rock. And with each day that passed, the sore pang in your heart at the thought of him seemed to intensify.

Not to mention, your struggle with your assault was draining you. Your heart hurt every time you walked past a mirror, and every once in a while, you’d see yourself in that guard uniform.

“Where are you guys?” you asked Sam through the phone as you walked around your motel room pulling clothes on.

“Cicero, Indiana,” Sam replied.

Your heart and stomach dropped. “What?”

“No way you’re here, too,” Sam began to laugh.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Sam! I purposefully picked a case that seemed like it wouldn’t pan out to stay away from him!” you replied frantically. “I mean, ‘guy falls on his own power saw’ doesn’t exactly scream unsolved mysteries!”

Sam was still laughing, but cleared his throat before talking again. “Yeah, but Dean’s cruisin’ for a hookup, too. That’s his main motivation, I think.”

You scoffed and ignored the burning feeling in your chest. “Of course, he is. Who is it this time?”

“Lisa Braeden. His… five day road trip from about eight years ago,” Sam explained. 

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Gumby girl.”

“So you know of her,” Sam said.

“Oh, yeah! After one of the first times we had sex, he told me I gave Gumby Girl a run for her money. ‘Best sex of my life before you’ is a direct quote,” you told him.

“Okay, ew,” Sam grimaced. “I don’t need to hear about your sex life—”

“It was topically relevant, Sam!”

“—and this is apparently one of his ‘dying wishes’.” 

“Way to let me down easy, jackass,” you sassed at the brunet’s clear inability to read the room in this situation. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s fine. I’ll leave. Let Dean have his fun,” you continued.

“No, don’t!” Sam begged. “At least stay till tomorrow so we can meet for coffee. I’m sure Dean ‘ll still be out with Gumby.”

“We should probably call that poor woman by her actual name,” you giggled. “But sure. I’ll stay till then.”

“Great!” You could practically hear Sam grinning on the other end of the phone. “I’ll call you when I get up tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Bye, Sammy.”

***

Someone pounding on your door at around one in the morning woke you up with a start. Swiftly, you put the barrel of your gun to the door and listened because there was no peephole for you to look through. You opened the door a crack when you heard nothing for a moment to reveal Dean staring at the ground before looking up at you.

Shocked, you slammed the door in his face and threw your gun at your bed. Unfortunately, you’d forgotten to lock the door behind you, and Dean waltzed into your bedroom.

“(Y/N), you can’t leave,” the man told you.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Dean? How did you even find me?!” you cried. “What, you think after three weeks of not talking I’m just gonna let you— Especially after you just fucked Gumby Girl—!” You began pacing around the room.

“I didn’t fuck Gumby Girl, (Y/N),” he said softly, still standing close to the door.

You scoffed and crossed your arms, suddenly very aware of the underwear and oversized band t-shirt you wore to bed that night. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” he replied, still staring at the ground. His hands stayed in his leather jacket pockets. “Couldn’t bring myself to even try.”

You threw your arms out in frustration. “What, am I supposed to forgive you for not fucking one out of the many Sam’s been telling me about you being with since I left?!”

Dean seemed stunned.

“Yeah! So, I’m sorry, but you’re not just gonna waltz in here and act like everything’s fine and dandy,” you chortled coldly.

“Are you gonna give me a chance to explain myself?” he questioned angrily.

“Why should I?” you scoffed.

“Because you love me! I thought that was the whole point!” he argued.

You stared him down, eyebrows drawn together. “Well, you obviously don’t love or respect me enough not to go fuck random girls literal days after I leave.”

“I do!” he shot back. “Would you just fucking listen? I was drinking alone when Sam thought I was with those other chicks.”

You said nothing, still glaring at him.

“I didn’t fuck any of them, (Y/N), ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you!”

Tension hung thick in the air between the two of you, and you looked up at him with dewey eyes. When you couldn’t stand to hold his gaze anymore, you turned away. “Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you… say it back? Say anything back?” Your voice broke while you talked. 

“I should’ve,” Dean replied quietly. “I- I’m sorry I didn’t.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have left you guys with those demons.”

You felt Dean’s fingers gently graze your arm, and he waited for you to flinch away for a moment. When you didn’t, he reached out and gingerly turned you to face him and held you to his chest. 

You melted into him almost immediately and let all of the emotion you’d been holding back for the past three weeks out. He rested his head on top of yours and just held you there for a minute. 

“I can’t watch you die, Dean,” you told him, still hugging him tightly. “I can’t do it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said. “Can you just… stick around till my time is up?” He gently pushed you away from him slightly to turn your eyes up to meet his gaze. “Please? It’s my dying wish.”

You giggled through your tears but nodded. You immediately dove back into his chest. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whispered. 

“I don’t wanna leave you,” he said, voice beginning to shake. “But I couldn’t let ‘im die, (Y/N). I couldn’t do it.” “I know,” you nodded. 

The two of you stood there holding each other once more until Dean spoke up again. “And, uh… ditto, by the way.”

“What?” you snorted, pulling away from him. 

“What you said… at Bobby’s,” he explained, avoiding your eyes.

“You love me?” you asked, smiling lopsidedly.

Dean just nodded. 

“And you told me just by saying ‘ditto’?” You burst out into laughter at Dean’s attempt at vulnerability. 

Dean went red in the face and turned away. 

“No, no!” you said, immediately quieting down. “It’s just— that was so cute. You’re adorable when you can’t emote properly.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, tilting your chin up to kiss you passionately and effectively silence your laughter. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck immediately; almost like a reflex. 

When you pulled away, you leaned your forehead against Dean’s. 

“You know I’m not letting you leave again,” he said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you smiled. 

***

You sat on the bed facing a shirtless Dean who was reclining against the headboard on a pillow while he told you his story from yesterday. He lazily drew circles on your outermost hip with his thumb as he talked. 

“So, I went to her house, right? ‘Cause… y’know. Gumby Girl,” he began sheepishly. “And, uh, turns out, she’s got a son.”

“Jesus, really?” you replied. “I forget most people have kids at our age.”

“See, this is where it gets interesting,” Dean continued. “So I go out to the backyard, and I see this kid, and (Y/N), I’m telling you, he looked just like me. Acted just like me, too. It felt like fuckin’ Freaky Friday.”

“Dean, don’t tell me—”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” he cut you off. “But no. Lisa said he’s not mine.”

“How do you know she’s not lying?” you asked. You finally processed the story Dean was telling you, and realization washed over you in tidal waves. “You could have a child. You might be his father. What the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” he said. “It’s freakin’ me out, man. But that’s not all.”

“Dean, if this involves a paternity test that names you as a match, I’m gonna start freakin’ out,” you said.

“No, no, it doesn’t. At least, not yet,” he chuckled. 

You glared at him.

He laughed. “Anyway, I think there really is a case here. One of those kids at the party was weird.”

“Yeah, Dean, kids are weird. Any other earth-shattering news I should be aware of?” you snorted.

Dean deadpanned at you. “You know what I mean. She wasn’t standin’ all the way upright—”

“Maybe she just has scoliosis—” you cut in.

Dean kept talking over you. “—And she kept glaring at everybody—”

“—I glare at everybody—” you continued.

“—And it’s the kid whose dad fell on the power saw.”

You considered for a moment. “Okay, maybe there is something happening. But it could also just be how her grief is manifesting.”

“Yeah, but (Y/N), all kinds of freaky accidents have been happening all over the neighborhood,” Dean explained further. “People fallin’ off ladders, drowning in hot tubs—”

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” you sighed.

“What’s your hold-up with all this?” he asked.

“Whaddya think, Dean,” you deadpanned.

“What, Lisa?” He seemed genuinely shocked. 

“I just think we should leave this town in our rearview mirror. Y’know, between Gumby Girl and her kid that’s potentially yours— oh, god,” you muttered when you fully realized Dean might have a son.

“(Y/N), he’s probably not mine. I mean, she said he wasn’t,” Dean reminded you.

“Somehow, that’s not making me feel better,” you grumbled. 

Dean pulled you down toward him and gently kissed your lips.

“Dean—” you tried, but he cut you off with another kiss. “Dean—” and he kissed you again, “—you can’t just—” another kiss, “distract me with this stuff—” another kiss, “—when we’re in the middle of a serious discussion.”

Dean kissed you once more and pulled you to straddle his hips. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately,” you smiled against his lips.

When Dean tried to grind up into you, though, you suddenly jerked back from him. 

He looked up at you in concern. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, tears swimming in your eyes. “I— I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s—”

“It’s okay,” Dean assured you. “We don’t have to do anything. It’s alright.”

You laid down on Dean’s chest, closing your eyes and trying to steady your breathing. Dean kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you to comfort you. Oh, how grateful you were to know him.

***

Later that day, you and Dean walked back to the Impala after investigating a few of the houses where accidents had happened recently. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; no cold spots, no EMF, nothing resembling a creature’s lair. It was all very “Stepford” in Dean’s opinion.

When you’d almost reached the car, Dean abruptly grabbed your arm. You gasped slightly and turned to face the direction he was. 

“That’s him,” Dean whispered. “That’s the kid.”

You looked ahead at a little boy with spiky brown hair wearing a canvas jacket sitting sadly on a park bench. 

Dean slid his hand down your arm to your hand and pulled you along with him. “Hey, Ben,” he told the kid.

The boy looked up at Dean. “Hey. You were at my party.” Ben seemed to notice you for the first time. “ ‘Sup?” the little guy nodded at you, attempting to smirk through his apparent sadness. 

‘Jesus, this really might be Dean’s kid,’ you thought. 

“I'm Dean, this is (Y/N),” he said, sitting down next to Ben on the bench. You stood next to Dean cautiously. “Everything okay? Something wrong?” Dean asked Ben, who didn’t respond. 

You noticed the empty gaming console case Ben was holding and looked out to the field to see a group of four boys playing with something that looked just about the size to fit the case.

“Is that your game they're playing with?” the older Winchester asked Ben.

The little boy  wouldn’t look at you or Dean. “Ryan Humphrey borrowed it, and now, he won't give it back.”

Dean was immediately ready to beat up eight-year-olds. “Well, you want me to go—”

“No!” Ben exclaimed, grabbing Dean’s arm. “Don't go over there! Only bitches send a grown-up.”

Dean grinned. “You’re not wrong.”

This whole interaction was completely flooring you; rendering you unable to add anything to the conversation.

“And I am not a bitch,” Ben finished.

Dean pointed to a boy wearing long cargo shorts holding the gaming console. “Is that Humphrey? The one that needs to lay off the burgers?”

The little boy smiled and nodded.

Dean hummed. 

“Dean, what are you—”

He ignored you and turned to Ben to talk to him in a hushed voice. You couldn’t quite hear what Dean was telling him to do, and you were puzzled when Ben got up from the bench and started walking over to the group of boys.

“They’re gonna eat that poor kid alive, dude, what were you thinking?” you chastised him, shoving his shoulder lightly. 

“Just watch,” Dean urged.

Ben turned back around to the two of you, and Dean offered him a thumbs-up and a grin. 

A moment later, Ben turned away from the bullies before whipping back around and kicking the boy holding his game straight between his legs twice.

“Dean, what the fuck,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

Ben walked back to you and Dean, triumphantly smiling and holding his game. “Thanks! Dude, that was awesome!”

Suddenly, a gorgeous woman stormed up to you, Dean, and Ben. “Benjamin Isaac Braeden! What has gotten into you?!”

“Gumby Girl,” you realized. 

Dean smacked your thigh lightly to get you to be quiet.

“He stole my game!” Ben tried to explain.

“So you kick him? Since when is—” she looked down at Dean and scoffed. “Did you tell my son to beat up that kid?”

“What?” Dean was still smiling. “Somebody had to teach him how to kick the bully in the nads.”

“Who asked you to teach him anything?” Lisa argued.

“You’re right, he’s sorry,” you said, trying to pull Dean away.

“What are you even still doing here? We had one weekend together a million years ago. You don't know me. And you have no business with my son,” Lisa raged, grabbing Ben’s hand to walk off with him. “Just leave us alone.”

“He will!” you asserted, to both Lisa and Dean. 

Ben broke out of his mother’s grip and ran back to Dean, wrapping his arms around his legs in a tight hug. 

“Thanks,” Ben smiled up at Dean.

Your heart melted and broke at the sight. 

As Ben returned to his mother, you saw three children a few yards beyond them standing in a straight line and turning their heads in tandem. Dean seemed to have noticed, too, and the two of you decided to get out of there as quickly as possible.

When you got into the Impala, you couldn’t say a word. 

Dean looked over at you. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” you replied.

“You look like you’re suckin’ on a lemon. C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.

“He really does seem like your kid,” was all you could manage to say.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“And, uh, if that does end up being the case—”

“Whoa, what?” Dean cut you off. “Since when am I following up with that?”

You sighed. “I don’t know, Dean, if you are his father, the kid deserves to have you in his life.”

“Sweetheart, the best thing I can do for that kid is get the hell away from him,” Dean replied. “He doesn’t need to be anywhere near me or this life.”

“Why?” you said. “ ‘Cause you think you’d be bad at it? You were great with him today.— y'know, aside from encouraging assault.”

“Yeah, (Y/N), for two seconds,” he said. “Why are you pushing this anyway?”

You paused. “I don’t know, I thought it might just be good for you. Give you an opportunity to live out your last year in peace. Happy.”

Dean’s posture softened, and he said nothing for a moment. “Thanks, but no. I’d take you and huntin’ evil sons of bitches over Middle America any day.” He reached out to you and pulled you to him, placing a kiss to the side of your head. 

***

When you arrived at the boys’ motel room, Sam was at his laptop researching. 

“Somethin’s wrong with the kids in this town,” you told him as you took your jacket off.

Sam replied without looking away from his computer, “Yeah. Tell me about it. So, what do you know about changelings?”

“Evil monster babies?” Dean questioned.

“No, not babies,” you chimed in.

“They're kids,” Dean realized. “Creepy, ‘stare at you like you're lunch’ kids?”

Sam nodded. “There's one at every victim's house.”

“Oh, that’s just perfect,” you mumbled.

“What?” Sam questioned. 

“We got a pile of missing kids being kept in a hole somewhere and a fuckton of changelings we gotta torch. Dean, where’s your kerosene?”

“Already on it,” he said, leaving the room.

“So, I’m guessing you talked things out,” Sam said once the door closed behind Dean.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled playfully. 

“So… you’re not leaving?” Sam questioned.

“No. Not yet, anyway,” you said, tone becoming more serious. “I’ll be there to tell him ‘bye,’ but I won’t watch him get dragged to hell. I can’t do that, Sam.”

The younger Winchester paused. “I get it. Hopefully, we won’t have to.”

Dean came back into the room not a moment later holding his torch and grinning.

“You and your gadgets,” you laughed warmly. 

“So, changelings can perfectly mimic children,” Sam began. “According to lore, they climb in the window, snatch the kid. Y'know, there were marks on the windowsill at one of the kid's houses. Looked to me like blood.”

“The changeling grabs a kid, assumes its form, joins the happy fam just for kicks?” Dean questioned.

“I wish that were the case,” you said. “Changelings feed on the mom’s synovial fluid. Sam, did you notice any strange bruising on their backs? It’d be just below the base of their neck?”

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Sam asked you. 

“It’s the typical spot they feed from,” you replied. “On the end of their creepy, face-hugger-from-Alien tongues, they have these little spines that extend through the body to reach all those spaces between the joints. Pretty gnarly injuries.”

“Right,” Sam nodded. “Changelings can drain them for a few weeks before mom finally croaks.”

“And then, there's dad and the babysitter,” Dean added, referencing two of the victims.

“Yeah. Seems like anyone who gets between the changeling and its food source ends up dead,” Sam finished.

“And fire’s the only way to kill ‘em,” you said, nodding at Dean’s torch. “See why I was worried about all this?”

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “Great.”

“According to lore, they stash the kids underground somewhere,” Sam continued, “I don't know why, but if it's true, the real kids might be out there.”

“We better start looking,” Dean asserted, seeming to have something on his mind.

“What?” you asked.

He hesitated before answering you with a question. “Any kid in the neighborhood is vulnerable?”

You nodded.

“We gotta make a stop. I wanna check on someone,” Dean told you, and you knew he meant Ben.

Dean held your gaze as Sam began to protest. “Well Dean, if the real kids are still alive, we don't have time. We—”

“We have to,” Dean stated firmly. 

***

Throughout the drive to Lisa’s house, you tried your best to remain calm. You weren’t truly worried about the potential that Ben could’ve been kidnapped or by the fact that Dean was upset, it was the thought of Lisa and Ben potentially taking Dean away from you. You knew your fear was irrational and maybe even a bit toxic, but you still worried that maybe Dean was still attracted to Lisa. Or maybe Dean was Ben’s dad and would be obligated to see and spend time around the two of them. The thought nearly made you throw up while you watched Dean knock on Lisa’s door. 

You saw Lisa yelling at him, and Dean ran back over to the Impala seeming incredibly worried. “They took Ben. He's changed,” Dean explained, hurriedly getting into the car.

“What?! Are you sure?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, I'm sure. I checked his windowsill,” the older brother nodded.

“Blood?” 

“I don't think it is blood, and I think I know where the kids are.”

***

Dean drove quickly toward a house under construction with a large mound of red dirt sitting on the lawn outside of it. The exterior of the home was almost finished, and the “For Sale” sign on the lawn was stained partially by the dirt.

“Red dirt,” Sam noted, bending down to inspect the sign. “That's what was on the window.”

“Ah, you take the front,” Dean told Sam. “(Y/N), take the left side; I got the other.”

You nodded and set off, gun and flashlight drawn. You crept around the corners of the house until you came to a set of doors angled down to a cellar. You jumped down into it and found small, empty cages lining the walls.

“What do you think you're doing?” a voice suddenly asked from behind you. 

You looked up at the entrance of the cellar to see a redheaded woman glaring at you. 

“You’re staying here until I can get the police here,” the woman said, pulling out her phone.

“Wait, wait,” you tried. “I’m sorry, I was just looking for a place to stay for the night.”

“Then why do you have a gun?” she hissed.

“Self-defense,” you replied coolly. “Please, I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

The redhead tsked and shook her head. “I don’t think you will.” She stood from the entrance to the cellar and closed both doors on you.

“Wait, no!” You rushed toward the doors, but it was too late. She had latched them shut by the time you got to them. Immediately, you started banging on the doors and trying to get them open. You turned around to one of the cages and picked it up, hurling it at the closed doors. You tried again and again, using the cage to hit the door, your shoulder to slam into it, and even tried using a piece of wire from the cage to take off the hinges, but nothing worked. Helplessly, you banged on the door and screamed for Sam and Dean.

Suddenly, you began to smell smoke.

‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought, breath quickening with urgency. You slammed your body into the doors as hard as you could manage. 

Across the cellar from you, the flames began to catch the ceiling, creating a gaping hole in the floor for debris and fiery planks of wood to fall through. You slammed into the doors once more, screaming for Dean. 

The smoke in the room began to fill your lungs and forced a cough out of you. You screamed Dean’s name again hoarsely, turning around briefly to see the fire had spread incredibly close to you. If you didn’t get out soon, the whole building would collapse on your head.

“Dean, please!” you screamed. 

Suddenly, you heard the door to the cellar unlatching.

“(Y/N)?!”

“Dean!” you cried.

He threw the doors open and pulled you out of the smoldering building. He quickly checked you over for injuries, cupping the sides of your face. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s go!” You grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him around to the front of the house, running as fast as your legs would carry you as flames taunted you dangerously close to your face. You ran across the street to where Sam was standing with a crowd of terrified children and Ben. 

“Sam!” you exclaimed. “Everybody okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Sam replied. 

Ben seemed shaken up, but he was trying to comfort the other kids around him. You smiled down at him. Dean was exactly the same way. No matter what was going on in his own head, he always checked on the needs of others first. It was one of the things you loved most about him; he was always showing you what compassion truly looked like. 

***

When the fire department had come and the children— all except for one— had been returned home, you and the boys drove Ben back to Lisa’s house. 

“Ben?!” the woman called, running out of the house. “Baby, are you okay?”

Ben ran to his mom and hugged her. “I'm okay, Mom.”

“Oh, my god,” Lisa sobbed. “What the hell just happened?”

“I'll explain everything if you want me to,” Dean started, “but, trust me, you probably don't. The important thing is that Ben's safe.”

“Thank you,” Lisa surged forward and hugged Dean. “Thank you.”

Dean seemed hesitant for which you were thankful, but still returned her hug.

Ben turned to head into his house, and Lisa moved to follow. She turned back to Dean apprehensively. “Do you— wanna come inside?” she asked. 

“Uh, no thanks,” Dean replied. “We, uh, gotta hit the road.”

Lisa nodded, deflating slightly. 

“But… you’re a hundred-percent sure Ben’s not mine, right?” Dean asked. 

She nodded and smiled. “You're off the hook. I did a blood test when he was a baby.”

“Oh,” Dean replied. “Good.”

“I... I swear you look disappointed,” Lisa noted.

“Yeah, I don't know. It's weird, you know your life... I mean, this house and a kid…” he trailed off. “It's not my life. Never will be. Some stuff happened to me recently, and, uh... Anyway, a guy in my situation— you start to think, y’know. I'm gonna be gone one day, and what am I leaving behind besides a car?”

“I don't know. Ben may not be your kid, but,” Lisa began, “he wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. That's a lot if you ask me.”

Dean nodded and turned back to you and his brother who stood by the car watching silently. “You know, just for the record…” He turned back to Lisa.  “You got a great kid. I would've been proud to be his dad.”

Lisa smiled at him, as did you, before Dean headed back to the driver’s seat. For once, Sam let you sit in the passenger’s seat, and you popped a Faith No More cassette into the Impala’s built-in player. 

***

A few hours into the drive, Sam had fallen asleep. You and Dean were left holding each other’s hand in silent support; a reassurance the other was there and okay. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier? To Lisa?” you murmured.

“About what?”

“Leaving nothing behind except a car?” you continued.

“Aw, c’mon—” Dean sighed. 

“No, Dean. That’s crap,” you quietly said. “You have a legacy. Everything you’ve ever done has been out of love and compassion. That is who you are. That’s what you’re leaving behind.”

Dean’s eyes flicked toward you, his expression unreadable. He was quite literally the only person to ever confuse your intuitive, watchful eye with his thoughtful, complicated expressions. 

The older Winchester turned his eyes back to the road and brought your entwined hands to his lips, kissing the backs of your knuckles. 

You reveled in the feeling, knowing the feeling of his lips on your skin in this moment, the pattern of Sam’s breathing steadily in the backseat, and the way his hand felt in yours would be a memory you’d need to hold onto when he was gone. Maybe that way, you’d be able to find peace; knowing that not even death could completely tear Dean away from you. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[maxverstappendefender]

ain't no love in oklahoma // op81 smau

description: twisters actress!reader x op81 but lando is convinced oscar is lying (from request)

a/n: sorry for being completely inactive. life happened and it didn't happen in a good way! i have a huge exam coming up soon so i will most likely still be inactive besides maybe a few short things here and there. anyways first oscar fic so enjoy! all pics found on pinterest, i don't own any

a/n pt2: might do something fun for each day in october but im not sure what so send me some ideas. also might do some more headcannons/blurbs soon here!

requests: closed but feel free to send me some messages since i love talking to you guys

masterlist

liked by oscarpiastri, glenpowell, and 2,927,641 others

youruser: go see twisters!! if you don’t, you suck and you better hope you don’t get stuck in a tornado because there’s useful information in our movie

tagged: glenpowell

view all comments

oscarpiastri: proud of you!!

↳ youruser: 🧡

glenpowell: caption is so real of you

user1: doesn’t yn have a boyfriend? why is she so close to glen?

↳ user2: yes but probably because there’s limited space. yn isn’t like that

↳ oscarpiastri: exactly what user2 said

landonorris: cute!

↳ user3: what are you doing here??

↳ user4: lando in the comments?

user5: such a good movie

user6: yn + glen = power duo

liked by youruser, landonorris, and 3,951,750 others

oscarpiastri: proud boyfriend award goes to me 🏆 thx for all the bts selfies

tagged: youruser, glenpowell

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landonorris: i just laughed out loud

landonorris: “boyfriend” lmaooo

↳ user7: i cant tell if he’s joking or serious

user8: cutest couple ever

glenpowell: aww so glad you remembered the time you took me to the aquarium, what a romantic!

↳ youruser: get your own boyfriend capybara

↳ user9: yn CLOCKED him

// lando’s phone//

//

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 4,027,835 others

landonorris: POLE BABYYYY!!! everyone ignore my teammates instagram posts, i have told him to stop. i think he took a hit to the head or something

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oscarpiastri: do you want to go to the farm or not?

↳ landonorris: you already said i could go so no take backs

↳ user10: lando is going to yn's farm??

↳ user11: LANDO'S MEETING YN?!

↳ user12: oh i know he's going to fangirl so hard

user13: get me someone who looks at me the way oscar looks at lando

↳ user14: are we sure that they aren't the ones dating?

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 3,017,426 others

youruser: back home finally! pic 1: yeehaw. pic 2: my cat cora had her babies!!! pic 3: dinner date :)

tagged: oscarpiastri

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user15: CORA HAD HER KITTIES

↳ youruser: i am officially a grandma. i feel the gray hairs coming in now

user16: oscar and yn are endgame

oscarpiastri: the best company

↳ landonorris: STOP, idk how you got her in on this joke either

↳ user16: i can't tell if lando knows they are actually dating and is joking or if he truly does not believe oscar

user17: boyfriend is back on the feed!

↳ user18: farmer yn is back on the feed!

glenpowell: miss you lady

↳ youruser: you miss my animals more

↳ glenpowell: and what about it.

liked by youruser, oscarpiastri, and 4,209,384 others

landonorris: OMG HE WASN'T LYING i got to feed so many animals, got to channel my inner cowboy, AND get drunk with the yn? i can die a happy man

tagged: youruser

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oscarpiastri: believe me now?

↳ landonorris: never doubted you

↳ user19: lando seriously didn't believe oscar lol

↳ user20: i fully thought he was joking the entire time

user21: how hard did you fangirl to meet yn, lando?

↳ landonorris: surprised i didn't pass out honestly. i facetimed GLEN POWELL

youruser: so glad you had a fun time!!

liked by youruser, landonorris, and 3,298,361 others

oscarpiastri: everyone clear that this is my girlfriend?

tagged: youruser

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user22: sassy oscar

↳ user23: channeling his inner lando

landonorris: yes sir 🫡

↳ oscarpiastri: stop being weird ?

youruser: MY MANNNNN

↳ user24: oh she's in deep

user25: there is one thing oscar doesn't play about in life: yn

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 4,208,763 others

youruser: didn't even know there was confusion that this was my boyfriend lol

tagged: oscarpiastri

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landonorris: how was i meant to know?!

↳ user26: literally how everyone else knew, instagram.

glenpowell: yn stop posting pics of me and my boyfriend and acting like he's yours

↳ youruser: i dont like this joke.

↳ oscarpiastri: bromance or whatever

↳ user27: they're in a throuple

↳ youruser: ew

↳ glenpowell: disgusting

↳ oscarpiastri: huhhh

user28: couple goals forever and ever

user29: if they don't get married... love isn't real

[outrunningthedark]

Idk how people don't realise how the toxic portion of the buddie fandom have Oliver in an absolute chokehold. That man is terrified to say anything that might invoke their anger and you can see that he gets so disappointed everytime fandom acts exactly like he expected them to.

If the fandom were any more normal I can guarantee Oliver would be more outspoken about different aspects of the show including but not limited to LIs such as Tommy.

TBH, I think they do realize by now...and they enjoy it. They've made it so that Oliver or whoever monitors his instagram KNOWS that if he doesn't want to see negativity he "shouldn't" post about what's actually canon, only what fandom wishes was canon. Regardless of what happens on screen, which yes, those people will absolutely bitch and moan about, they can still pat themselves on the back for fostering an environment where you wouldn't know BuckTommy was happening if you didn't watch the show. Which...is perfect for this fandom, actually. These fans don't want to watch the show. They don't like what's happening. But on social media? In their Buddie bubbles were Tommy doesn't exist? They can keep pretending everything's gonna work out just fine. And Oliver's instagram is "proof" of that, thanks to them! [I'm not stating this as fact, but with 9-1-1 socials more closely monitoring comments as we get closer to the premiere, I wouldn't rule out Oliver eventually doing something and then letting someone else do the work of cleaning up the responses.]

[bloop-bl00p]

Alastor could have been Native American

Before anyone screams racism, removal of representation, or whatever I redirect you to my post about the Voodoo representation of the show.

→ HERE ←

First thing first, Alastor is not a Wendigo but his cannibalism aspect led to fans believing the contrary, a belief that was pushed further with him being a deer. Wendigoes aren’t related to deer at all, they mostly look like men who are visibly starved and all. The deer thing came from pop culture.

Now you’re gonna ask..

“You’re all for representing properly religion and culture why would you want him to be American Indian if he’s not a proper wendigo?”

He could be a skinwalker with small elements of wendigo.

Here’s a small rewrite

It’s not related to Hell’s Safe Haven, I’ll be doing something different, feel free to take the idea for your oc if you want. But remember, Always do research :)

Why a skinwalker? They are shamans who started as healers but broke taboos from the culture which involve using their ability for harm and curses. If you’re smart then you should see where I’m going with this.

Rather than being an “evil voodoo man” Alastor could have been a shaman who transgressed important rules and became a skinwalker, one of these taboos is murdering a close relative to align with darker powers which pretty much fits for Alastor. Obliviously, you don’t villainize the whole culture, you can still show that shamanism, when not perverted by skinwalkers, can do good. Alastor’s mother could have also been a shaman and went to Heaven.

He could still have been a serial killer, stalking and learning the routine of his victims before killing them. Then he could have died in the snow because hunters noticed his activities in the forest, thanks to their dogs smelling the putrid flesh of the bodies he was carrying around, and then he got shot. Or you can have it that he managed to escape but got lost and had to eat part of the corpse he managed to get with him, but he also had to use their skin to not try and protect himself from the cold in vain partially linking him to Wendigoes.

In Hell, he could have looked like a starved disturbing-looking deer, starved because of wendigos and deer because that’s the animals he favored the most to lure people. In terms of powers, he could have the ability to reproduce people's voices through electronics mainly using radios to do so. A cool detail could be that these voices sound slightly disturbing and fake.

He completely took a more charming and refined aesthetic once in Hell to appeal to and manipulate others more easily. Skinwalkers are described as carrying bones I guess that could help for a possible redesign. Since his appearance is quite scary he could wear a hat to hide his face.

The actual critic

This is really a surface-level thing, it's a first draft based on Wikipedia, but you can’t say that it’s not remotely much more cohesive than whatever Viv is doing with Alastor.

This is something that absolutely frustrates me with the Hellaverse, Viv has very surface-level concepts, and she doesn't do enough research to bring them to their potential. It happens with Voodoo, the Goetia, the Seven Deadly Sins, and the whole pantheon of biblical figures.

What she does is she takes these cool ideas and slaps them onto her oc without much thought.

Take an example with Andrealphus, he teaches math and geometry so one of my first thought is to give me space manipulation. This means he can basically change your location in an enclosed space, turn an entire room around, and twist it to his liking. With his knowledge of maths and geometry, he knows what to do specifically to make you land exactly where he wants which makes him extremely hard to fight inside a house, especially if it’s a big place.

He could also completely reshape the laws of geometry and physics, how funny would it be to see that he lives in a small house, not taking much place but then you go outside and discover it’s basically a whole castle? It’s generic but it makes sense and makes places for lots of interesting scenes for fights or just aesthetics.

Vivziepop chose to give him ice power, for some reason. I mean math isn’t really an attractive notion in terms of supernatural abilities but you can still do something interesting with it. Unless his castle is a geometrical wet dream, I don’t see a possible link between the two. It’s a matter of creativity and the willingness to do research to cultivate it, she doesn't have that.

If you just slap very specific labels (like voodoos) on a character without thinking about how it could work for them and affect the world around them (if voodoo works then the Lwas exists), then not only you are not doing your “job” as a writer but you are just doing it for the aesthetic. It’s not wrong to do if it’s mundane things like saying that one character knows how to speak Latin, but in some cases, you gonna have to be careful about what you write in your stories.

[andbreakmynose]

every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own

part 1

your first date with the hot single dad you may or may not work for...

(the car! alex, single dad! alex)

WARNINGS: SMUT, feelings, age gap (reader is mid 20s), p-in-v (protected), oral (f receiving)

WORD COUNT: 5k

You hadn’t been this giddy over a man since Aiden Grant called you pretty on an Instagram post when you were 12, although you also hadn’t been with anyone like Alex fucking Turner.

Barely anyone knew you even worked for Alex; he didn’t want them to for his own privacy. You understood that, he was a private person and especially so when it came to his child. You didn’t have a problem with telling acquaintances that you worked for a rich man and not saying anything else, they usually understood. It’s never been a problem until now.

When you came home after that fateful night all giggly and smiling your roommate had more than a few questions. The alcohol in your system got you dangerously close to spilling but you came up with some lie last minute, you couldn’t remember what you said in that drunken haze but apparently it was enough to get Claire off your case.

You wanted to tell her though, you wanted to tell the world and you couldn’t. It was eating you alive that you couldn’t tell anyone that you had kissed - no, fucked - Alex Turner. Not in a bragging way, in the way that you wanted someone to tell you to calm down and slap some sense into you. You wanted to be able to ask someone for advice, to know that you weren’t making some grave mistake. It was times like these you wished that you took that advertisement in the mail for three months of free therapy.

Alex, in a sort of way, became that person. He was too busy to really talk the rest of the week, but his gentle gestures like kissing you before you left gave you enough reassurance to make it through the night without freaking out.

He felt the same way, there was this underlying fear in his bones that he really had done something terrible. It’s not that he thought he was taking advantage of you, no you’re a grown adult. But you’re the grown adult he has employed, he can’t lose that. If he worked for a company this would’ve been an HR violation. That was a bad feeling.

Waiting for Friday would be unbearable if you weren’t so damn busy. Toddlers don’t have time to accommodate for a complicated love life and it seemed that neither did Alex’s schedule. He wanted you to know that he cared and he was genuinely looking forward to having an actual date with you, but it seemed that every time he tried to start a conversation his daughter would start crying or his phone would start ringing.

It isn't until Wednesday that he actually gets you alone. He has enough time to slip home and grab lunch, and it's late enough that Ayla is already sound asleep for her nap. When he sees you sitting alone on the sofa, his heart swells. There's already something domestic about the scene: you, in his house, comfortable on his furniture. No signs of work, just relaxation—and he likes that.

“Hey. Had a few minutes to sneak out.” He sneaks into the living room, startling you slightly before you smile warmly. You can’t be upset with him, not even for a second—his presence is just too warm.

“There’s some leftover mac and cheese on the stovetop if you want it. Not exactly fine dining, but it was pretty good.” Your words make him laugh, and that feels good. He has a nice laugh, and you feel a sense of pride knowing you made it happen.

“I’ll pack some and take it back to the studio. Don’t really have much time,” he says, glancing down at his watch—probably more expensive than your car. “But I did want to talk. Y’know, about Friday.”

You nod and sit up properly, straightening your back so you don’t look lazy. He notices but doesn’t comment; it’s cute to him that you’re still trying to impress him when he already finds you so special.

“So I’ve been thinking... and talking...” He leans against the doorway, smiling. “I made a reservation at that restaurant for 6:30, and I’ve already talked to Matt. He’s more than happy to watch Ayla for the night. You know how excited she’ll be to see them.” He beams at his own productivity, clearly pleased with how he��s going above and beyond for you.

The mention of Matt confuses you. You’ve been nervous about even mentioning the situation to your sister, and yet Alex already told Matt? It makes sense, you guess—Matt understands celebrity life and knows how to keep secrets. He seems decent enough from the few times you’ve met him, but the idea still makes you feel something strange.

“Matt knows about... us?” you ask, hesitating slightly. You don’t want to seem upset—you’re not upset—but you do want clarification.

Alex picks up on your nerves instantly. It’s obvious in the way your fingers dig into your knee and your teeth worry at your lip. He shakes his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry about that. I told him an old friend is coming to town for drinks and that you weren’t available anyway.”

Damn Alex and his talent for easing your nerves. You exhale the deepest breath you’ve taken in a while. It’s all good. “Ah, okay. I was just wondering if you were telling the whole world about us,” you joke, knowing he isn’t. You needed to say something to lighten the mood, more for yourself than for him.

He laughs at your joke, and he doesn’t even need to say no—you already know he wouldn’t want to jinx things yet. He’s about to speak again when his watch buzzes, prompting a disappointed sigh. He doesn’t want to leave, he’d rather spend all day staring into your wide, pretty eyes.

“I’m excited for tomorrow, yeah? We’ll drop her off at 6:00 and then head out. I really am excited. You don’t even know.” He sounds slightly nervous, and it’s cute to see that you can make him feel that way. You don’t know what you did to deserve it.

"I’m excited too.” Your voice is warm, matching the smile on your face. You’re not entirely sure what to say, but you know just how excited you are to have something with him. His expression softens as he lifts himself from the doorframe.

“I’ll see you later, darling. Take care.” And with that, he’s gone, but you can’t blame him—you know how busy he always is. The word "darling" bounces around in your head, a reminder that this isn’t a dream. He really does like you.

Thursday night is spent stressing over what to wear. You know Alex will show up in his usual suit—one of his quirks that drives you wild—but you don’t want to overdo it. It’s just dinner, but your work clothes won’t cut it. You certainly can’t show up in sweats to a date with Alex Turner.

You settle on a dress you haven’t worn since your ex-classmates wedding to her now ex-husband. It’s not the nicest, but it will do. You have a sneaking suspicion that Alex would like you in a trash bag anyway. You roll the dress up and tuck it in your bag—no way you’re wearing it to work where it’d end up covered in marker and spit.

Friday’s anxiety convinces you that you’re doing your job horribly. You must have forgotten something or messed up because your mind is all Alex, Alex, Alex, like he’s a parasite who’s crawled into your brain.

Knowing he’ll be home around 5:30, you start getting ready at exactly 5:15. You make sure to look presentable, curling your hair and applying a layer of concealer. He’s seen you at your worst—covered in child vomit—but you still want him to see you at your best.

Right on time, he unlocks the front door, and Ayla immediately bounds over to him. He laughs, picking her up and setting her on his hip before his eyes sweep over you. You look good—you always look good—but this time, it’s something else.

He clears his throat, giving a small smile. “You look that good to me?” You don’t want to blush, but you’re sure your face is bright red. Of course, you dressed up for him.

“Nah. I dressed up to get spit on,” you joke, stepping forward and ruffling Ayla’s hair just like Alex did. He smiles at the closeness, free from the stresses of the day and surrounded by the people he cares about the most. It’s a good feeling.

He chuckles at your words, raising his eyebrows and making a quizzical face at his daughter as if she’s hiding something. She just babbles, reaching out to pull his sunglasses off and throw them on the floor. Alex shakes his head, pretending to care. You laugh, silently thanking her for letting you see Alex’s eyes again. He really does have the nicest eyes.

“Those were my nice pair, you rascal.” You’ve never heard him upset and this is no exception, even when he’s pretending to be upset he still has so much love in his voice. “Y’know I was gonna surprise ya by taking you to Uncle Matt’s for the night but it seems like you’re being a little punk tonight.” The girl immediately cries out and shakes her head, protesting just the thought of not going to Matt’s.

“Aw alright, you’re too darn cute to deny. Plus I have to do things anyways tonight.” This makes Ayla clap excitedly and make small noises, Alex giving her a smile before looking up with a wink. You secretly knew that the plans he had tonight consisted of you, and you wink right back at him. “You pack her night bag?” He asks you, it was the one thing he asked in the morning so of course you did it. You were always 10 steps ahead and he loved that.

“Mhm!” You nod and gesture to the pony-printed bag behind you. It was a gift you had gotten her for Valentine’s day earlier this year. Alex nods and walks over, daughter still in hand, to grab the bag and swing it over his shoulder. He’s signaling that it’s time to go.

You follow after him silently into his black sports car, taking Ayla from him to help buckle her into her carseat. You hop in the passenger's side and he sets the radio to the kid’s channel. Alex looks back at his daughter with a wide grin, even if he doesn’t particularly tolerate these songs he knows that it makes her happy. He starts to sing along to some song about waffles, god it’s awful but somehow his crooning makes it sound like a 1950s love song. You smile at the scene while Alex pulls out of the driveway.

That’s how the whole drive goes, it’s only about 15 minutes but all 15 of them are spent with Alex singing his heart out just to please his kid. “Is this on the new album?” You remark with a teasing grin at one song about silly snakes, Alex just laughs and reaches out to gently swat your arm.

That moment confirmed to you that your relationship with Alex had changed, not a single other person you worked with would have touched you. And Alex wasn’t just touching you sexually but he was touching you in a warm, familial way. For a second it felt just like you were old lovers and your kid, not what you really were.

It’s an easy handoff to Matt, Ayla is excited to see everyone and all you really have to do is hand off the night bag, Alex trusts them enough that he doesn’t even consider worrying for the night. When he’s sure the door is shut he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the car. You’ve come to love his hands; they were gentle and warm, yet also calloused from years of experience. They were the most Alex Turner hands you could possibly think of.

He starts the car again, making sure to shift the stereo to his personal mix of 2000s garage rock and 1960s french jazz. It was such an eclectic combination but it told you everything you needed to know about him, you felt warm as he hummed along to the words you didn’t really understand.

The restaurant was about a 30 minute drive, it was mostly silent besides the few times Alex pointed out things in the city. He showed you which venues he had played and which stores he had shopped in, he made sure to recommend the sweaters at some luxury store that you couldn’t pronounce the name of. When you told him you loved his sweaters he made a mental note to get one for you for the holidays, or to lend you one of his own.

Like he said, the restaurant is formal but cozy. It reminds you of something from Lady and the Tramp, or maybe Ayla had just made you watch that movie on repeat in the past week. He hands the keys off to the valet worker and grabs at your hand again, leading you inside.

“Turner, party of 2,” he says to the hostess with a smooth voice, looking over at you to remind you that you’re his party, his date. The hostess grabs two menus and leads you to a secluded booth in the corner. There’s a candle and roses on the table, which you didn’t notice at any others. Maybe he had done that special just for you.

He orders the two of you a glass of wine and a basket of bread, pointing out his favorite items on the menu. You decide on some fancy seafood pasta, Alex mumbling that it was a good choice.

This is your first time ever alone with Alex for a prolonged period, you’re not quite sure what to expect. He starts the conversation off easily, asking about your day and telling you about his. The endless flow of drinks and food (everytime you ask to order something he says yes - reassuring you that he couldn't care less about the price) makes it all really easy. There’s just chemistry between you and Alex.

He tells you about touring and you tell him about your childhood dog, he tells you what it’s like to be famous and you tell him about your experience in college. There’s such a difference in lifestyles but it doesn’t seem to matter at this moment, he’s completely enthralled by your life. It almost feels like you’re sharing similar experiences, he understands everything you say and is able to respond in such a damn charming way.

The food is unreasonably good, like maybe in the top five you’ve ever had. The flavors are rich and you wonder for a second how you’ll go back to fast food and microwaved dinners after this. At some point Alex decides he wants a bite from your plate so he puts his fork in it, there’s an awkward clash of arms that has you both giggling.

“You want some of mine? It’s only fair,” he asks you, a small amount of pasta sauce stuck under his bottom lip. You want to reach out and fix it but you’re too preoccupied with his words. You give a nod and he picks up his fork, grabbing a piece of chicken and bringing it to your lips. You were totally fine with getting your own bite but he had different plans, and the scene made you feel more like you were in Lady and the Tramp.

His food was also too damn good and you let out a satisfied groan, him grinning and reaching out to clean your lip. You figure since he did it you can do it too, so you take your thumb and gently wipe down his lip. It’s a quiet sort of encounter but it’s full of so much tension and unspoken words, god why was pasta sauce turning you on?

He finally removes his hand from your face and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to his side. You can tell at that moment that you’ve crossed a bridge and probably won’t be able to keep your hands off each other anymore, it’s good that there isn’t that much food left.

He keeps his arm tight against you as you eat, like he’s afraid you’ll run on him. The food doesn’t take too long to finish, at least on your behalf. It’s so good that you can’t stop filling your mouth. And when you’re done and Alex has a bit left it’s a treat that you get to watch him eat for a second, his mouth alternates between telling stories and chewing, his perfect lips always moving.

The waiter asks if you want dessert but you two were both too full, and Alex gives you a look that says he has dessert prepared for later. It’s a silent promise that reminds you of what happened last time we were together and has your heart beating faster in anticipation.

He pays the bill (you don’t even bother to look at how many figures are on there) and then takes you back to his car. His hand never leaves your back, sometimes drifting down to the curves of your ass. The valet man hands him his keys back, he tips heavily, and you’re heading back to his place. Nervous anticipation fills both of your throats.

“That was maybe the best food I’ve ever had.” You tell him as you take a seat in his car, buckling your seatbelt and smiling at him.

He nods and hums, following your actions and expression, “Glad you think so. I’m pretty fond of it myself.” He starts the car and his music begins to play again, you had heard this song before. Maybe because of him. “I really like that dress on you sweetheart, so damn gorgeous.” He breaks the silence after a minute, voice husky and smirk on his face. He did mean the sexual connotations behind his words but he also just really liked the dress, you were a gorgeous girl and seeing you dolled up for him was lovely.

“Aw thanks.” You reply, feeling your face heat up a bit. You still weren’t quite used to his compliments, he shouldn’t be saying you looked gorgeous when he looked like a damn god. He drives in silence for a second, taking occasional glances over at you with that smirk on his face.

“I have a confession to make...” he gives you a devilish grin, a small laugh trying not to escape him, “I get really touchy feely when I’m a bit drunk. But emphasis on the touchy part.” And then he laughs, he really can’t hold it in and neither can you. He has you laughing while simultaneously attempting to not pay attention to the burn between your thighs.

He smiles back at you, he loves your laugh, and then turns the stereo up a bit. He wants to get you back home and fast, this week of waiting for you has just driven him crazy. You’re able to get comfortable and let the music distract your busy mind, your eyes stay peeled to the window so you don’t notice how his hand is flexing against the steering wheel.

He leads you to the kitchen when you get home, the same place this all began. He opens the wine cabinet and starts to look, but you interrupt, “I shouldn’t drink anymore, I don’t want to be hungover at work tomorrow.” He nods and lets out a small sigh, that’s right. You were his daughter’s damn babysitter, not a girl he brought home from the bar. He has to repeat this thought as your cleavage is right in his face. “Yeah, that’s fine...”

Another second of silence fills the room, you know what he’s thinking about but is too shy to say. It’s a bit endearing how he doesn’t want to come across as too forward. “Alex... if you want to fuck me you can just say it. I can see you staring down my tits.”

He’s halfway through a drink of wine when you say this and he ends up coughing it up, he didn’t expect you to say anything. Good, maybe he wasn’t the only one being so sexually desperate here. “Right... well I think I’d like that.” He regrets saying that instantly, it sounds so stupid. He wants to fuck you with ever fiber of his being and he’s saying he “thinks” he’d like that. God he feels like an idiot.

He was still shy, and to be honest so were you. It had been a while and the first times with anyone were always scary. But you still nodded at his words and tilted your head towards his bedroom, if there was anytime nerves would be the lowest it would be now when you were both a bit tipsy.

Alex swallows and takes the lead, grabbing your hand and leading you to his bedroom. You had been there before to grab things for the kid before but this felt different, you weren’t there for your job. You were in his room and you were about to have sex with him.

Before you can finish looking around he grabs you by the waist and captures your lips in a searing kiss, too much pent up desire to wait for any longer. You’re caught off guard but still end up moaning into the kiss, Alex can only think about how he wants to hear more of those moans. Something must’ve taken hold of him because he gets the confidence to push you towards the bed, starting to work at the zipper with his long fingers.

He gets the zipper all the way down and you can barely register it before your dress is on the floor, leaving you in your underwear set. It wasn’t really the nicest but it still had Alex’s breath hitching. “Fucking gorgeous body. You know I’d return the favor from last time but I think if I’m not inside you soon I might perish and die.”Always one for the dramatics.

You give a small giggle at his words, reaching your hand out to gently palm his prominent bulge through his trousers, he hisses at just the littlest bit of contact. There’s a tangle of limbs as you try to get his clothes off and he tries to get your lingerie off, it’s awkward and messy and you almost feel like a high schooler again. Everything about Alex makes you feel like a high schooler again.

After you’re both completely undressed he joins you on the bed, pushing you back and settling on his knees. He starts to gently part your legs to look at your soaked cunt, running his middle and pointer fingers through the folds to collect your wetness. “Your cunt is pretty too, you know that? I think I’ve changed my mind, I need to taste you.”

Before you can even respond (which you probably wouldn’t have been able to respond with words anyways) his lips are attached to your sex. You let out a loud whine and attach your hand into his hair, pushing him deeper. He brings his mouth up slightly higher and his nose budges at your clit, that perfect fucking nose. It’s only been a minute and he already has you shaking and letting out endless streams of whines. He’s reveling in your taste, he thinks he could survive purely on the taste of your juices.

He develops a rhythm of licking at you, sucking at your clit, and peppering kisses along the sensitive folds. It’s intoxicating and you’re sure the words you’re saying don’t make sense, the only ones you can recognize coming out of your mouth are “Alex” and “Fuck.” He’s obsessed with your cunt but at the same time he’s hard in a way that’s making him uncomfortable, so he pulls his lips away much to your whining protest.

“Shh.. shh... sorry sweetheart. I just need to fuck you now,” he says in a voice smoother than butter. As he shifts to having his hips in between your legs your eyes meet the throbbing member in front of you. The head is red and you can see the pulsing. Yeah, it makes sense he needed to fuck you. He takes his time to line his head up with your folds, he needs that first thrust to be perfect as silly as it sounded.

After he decides on his placement he places his hands on your shoulders and starts to push himself in. It’s a stretch for you but in the best way, you hadn’t been filled by a cock in so long and now the most beautiful one was opening you up. Your tight caverns had Alex matching your groans, leaning down so he can kiss you again.

“So. Fucking. Perfect. And all mine.” He says in between kisses, starting to move his hips at a pace that has you both satisfied and begging for more. You’re his, you’re completely his. If there was any question about it before. You didn’t care that he was technically your employer anymore, at this second he was your lover and maybe the best lover you had ever had.

“Yes Alex, I’m yours. All yours,” you moan out, every thrust causing new goosebumps to arise on your arms. “Now fuck me harder, please.” You add on, causing him to laugh.

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he says before picking up the pace. He starts to slam into you at a brutal pace, still littering your neck with kisses. If that wasn’t enough he starts to pinch and roll your nipples in his fingers, all the sensations making your eyes roll back. You knew your orgasm was soon, and Alex knew it too. You both wanted this too much to hold on for much longer.

Your moans start to become one constant stream of noises and his grunts start to become more guttural, the coil in your lower stomach was starting to build up and you just needed to push towards that release a bit more. He took note of this and brought his thumb from your nipple to your clit, circling it quickly like if he didn’t make you cum, he’d be executed. His own release was nearing and he could feel himself start to twitch inside of you.

“Can I cum fuck - inside?” He groans out, always the gentleman. He’s really damn turned on by the idea of cumming inside before but he’s seen what that can do before and doesn’t exactly want to deal with that again. You nod your head, you’re glad he asked but you’ve been on birth control since you were 15 for period cramps.

“On the pill!” You scream out. And it’s so embarrassing but that’s the last thing you’re able to say before the coil inside of you snaps and you’re cumming all over his cock, your walls squeezing him deliciously. He’s decided that making you cum is his new favorite thing in the world, the noises you make and the way your body is reacting drives him to his own release. With a final thrust and groan he’s leaning forward against you and emptying inside of you.

He cums a lot; you knew that from sucking him off, but now it was inside of you. And even when he pulled out, despite missing how he felt, you still felt pretty full. You were full of his remains; he likes that just as much as you. He spends a second to smile at your spent cunt leaking him before he snaps out of it.

"I'll, uh, I’ll get a towel, yeah?” He says, still catching his breath, before walking off to grab what he said. You miss him for the two minutes he’s gone, and when he returns, you feel like he’s just gotten back from war. He gently cleans your sex off and then puts the glass of water aside for you on the nightstand.

Collapsing onto the bed next to you, he pulls you into his side, placing a kiss on your temple. “That was perfect; I hope you let me do it again.” Of course you’d let him do it again; you’d let him fuck you right now if you weren’t kind of tired.

“You can fuck me whenever we both have the time; that’s my promise to you. And maybe we’ll go to that restaurant again? It was good!” He chuckles and nods, playfully ruffling your hair and placing another kiss on your head.

“I’ll take you wherever you want; you're mine now, and I mean it.” He pulls you against your side, and you know the truth to his words—you were entangled with him, whatever the implications were. You were his. And now you were about to sleep in his bed.

He wakes up before you; he knows he has to go pick up the kid from Matt's, and it’d be odd if you went too. He slips on a shirt and jeans for the day, more casual than he was used to, and lets his eyes roam over your sleeping form. Your nakedness was a reminder of everything you did that night, but your eyes closed, and the smile on your face was a reminder of the deeper meaning to it all. He couldn’t wait to explore that more.

He thought about you the entire drive to Matt's—not just how you felt under him but how you made him happy. He could’ve been embarrassed by how whipped he was this quick, but it was a long time coming. His mind drifts back to how pretty you were last New Year's when he had you take Ayla to the “family” party.

When he gets to Matt's, Ayla is beyond excited to see him, running up and pulling his leg into a hug. He hugs her back for a second and then gestures for her to walk to the car; he’s about to follow, but Matt stops him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Is there a reason you were holding hands with your babysitter last night, Alex?”

A/N: kinda hate this but i needed to get it out. title from jane eyre again <3 love dad alex

[aftercamlann]

ACBB 2024 Masterlist

Thank you to all our wonderful writers, artists and beta readers who participated in this years After Camlann Big Bang! We hope you will consider participating again this year!

Below is the final masterlist for After Camlann 2024:

Title: We Are Bruised But Whole Together Author: Tansyuduri Artist: GYRHS Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Merlin. (Arthur Merlin and Freya) Rating: Explicit Word count: 46,999 Summary: Arthur wakes up in modern Glastonbury and to his unfathomable relief finds Merlin. But nothing is simple. Everything he knew is gone, for one. He wonders what of his achievements were actually his own, and not just Merlin's magic, for another. Arthur also has to face the fact that he kept the ban on magic going. Was he ever truly a good king?

There is also the “I love you” he mouthed to Merlin before dying. Something he cannot afford to focus on, because, as Merlin tells him, Albion’s time of greatest need is upon them.

Then comes the unthinkable. Merlin’s magic, which has been growing over the last thousand years, is suddenly too strong for the sorcerer's human body to handle. Faced with the prospect of losing Merlin, feelings suddenly come out and Arthur realizes that if he can save the man he loves and the land of Albion, he might be able to forgive himself for his mistakes and everything he is not.

The question is, can he?

Expect fluff, angst, humor, banter, hurt/comfort, whump, and lots of Merthur!

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: running back home Author: sourw0lfs Artist: kokoshka67 Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Rating: Mature Word count: 25,126 Summary: With another growl, the monster surges forward, pressing its full weight into Arthur and toppling his footing. They both go down hard with just the damaged sword as a barrier between them. Arthur’s arms shake with the effort to keep it that way, pressing upwards with all the strength he can muster to free himself. The monster barely budges, lips pulling back in a snarl that reveals a mouthful of half-sharp, half-dull teeth. Through his panic, Arthur finally realizes why this monster seems so different from the attacks in the past. His gaze trails from the jagged teeth snapping angrily at him to the side of the creature’s face that isn’t covered in scales, to the side that’s so obviously and glaringly human. Because the monster isn’t a monster at all. It’s something else entirely, some kind of cursed hybrid never before seen. Worst of all, though, Arthur finds that he recognizes the human face beyond the scales and fangs. “Merlin?”

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: london fog and technicolour strobe lights Author: demigodbeautiies Artist: LikeAPaperPlane Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur (main); Gwen/Lancelot (side); Gen Merlin & Various Characters (side) Rating: Mature Word count: 39,822 Summary:he magic in the membrane of the night around them as they duck out into the world is thick and perfectly marvellous, reminding him that he is here, young, and alive, and that’s pretty alright. Nighttime is always better, anyway. When Merlin left his village ten years ago, he really didn't think he'd end up fucking people for money. He still doesn't know what he expected to happen, exactly, but wishes he could figure it out a little bit faster. Then a run of the mill gig goes wrong and changes the course of Merlin's life - just, not in any of the ways he expected it to. That's the funny thing about a summer in London, though: it is utterly impossible to tell what the hell will happen next. Escort Merlin AU, featuring love, lust, and the London Underground. Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: It's Not in the Stars to Hold Author: Storybelle Artist: Summ3rSolstic3 Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Gwen/Lancelot, one-sided Gwaine/Merlin, previous mentioned Gwen/Arthur Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 31,707 Summary: Their friendship hasn't exactly been smooth — since that first day on the train when Arthur had heard about the famed Merlin, to their first potions lesson, their fight in the Great Hall, and every strange, dangerous adventure they've had since then, part of Merlin being the chosen one, the most powerful wizard to ever exist. Arthur's letter didn't come with warnings of Sidhe, or lamia or changelings.

But if it's for Merlin, he'll follow him anywhere, something that proves to be very complicated when he joins Merlin's family for Christmas.

A HogwartsxMerlin mashup

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: A chance encounter Artist: Pinklunamoth Pairings/Characters: Rating: Gen Word count: N/A Summary: Merlin and Arthut have an unexpected reunion

Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Resurrecting Magic Author: Sage_Owl Artist: wistfulVulpine Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Balinor/Hunith, Ygraine/Uther, Gaius, Morgause, Nimueh, Mordred, Geoffrey, Freya, Tristan, Isolde, Lasy Helen Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 25,041 Summary: Thirty years ago, magic disappeared. Now, a whole generation- including best friends Merlin and Arthur- have grown up without it, only hearing the occasional rumor.

Merlin decides to put his film degree to good use by starting a ghost-hunting show with Arthur, but things quickly go awry. An attempt on Arthur's life leads to Merlin reading a spell that slows down time...but magic is gone, isn't it?

From there, the two friends begin to unravel the conspiracy that destroyed magic, and the prophecy involving their family names that promises to bring it back. Featuring ghosts, arson, solariums, pining, chalk dragons, and definitive proof that even from beyond the grave, Uther Pendragon is an asshole.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: As One We Stand Author: BGN_846 Artist: Malus_sieversii Pairings/Characters: Merlin & Arthur Rating: Mature Word count: 70,022 Summary: Canon era, canon divergent featuring BAMF!Merlin, irritatingly confusing Kilgharrah, mentally exhausted Arthur, and a very impatient Morgause. Growing up in isolation with his father and a handful of druids, Merlin has been trained in the arts of magic and self-defense. He's also good with a sword, knows how to evade the enemy and is quite literally dying of boredom. NOTHING exciting ever happens aside from the stories his father tells him of days long past about the evils of the outside world. All this changes when a chance encounter leads Merlin to save Arthur Pendragon’s life. He soon discovers he's got a shared destiny with the pratty prince. (who does not like his magic, not one bit) Merlin thought his life was boring before, now he's not sure what to think. In a matter of a few weeks, he's met a dragon, promised to set him free, and may or may not have been tasked with usurping the king! He's managed on his own for this long, what's the worst that could happen? He spends the rest of his life alone, that's what!

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Let me see you stripped down to the bone Author: where_the_kissing_never_stops Artist: icebreak1010 Pairings/Characters: Gwaine/Percival, background Merlin/Arthur Rating: Mature Word count: 50,027 Summary: Leeds, March 1986.

They're off to a strip night, and Gwaine has no idea how much it will change his life.

He falls head over heels for one of the dancers, and a random encounter lets them meet properly, and Gwaine realises it isn't just Percival's body he likes. Slowly, they become an irreplaceable part of each other's lives. However, Percival's job starts to get in between them, and Gwaine's insecurities grow.

Will they make it together?

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: What Was I Made For? Author: tomatopudding/JetGirl1832 Artist: rasseyanost Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Kara/Lena, Gwen/Lancelot, Arthur Pendragon, Merlin, Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers, Morgause, Uther Pendragon, Gwen, Lancelot, J’onn J’onzz, Brainy, Nia Nal, Florence Abbott

Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 63,019 Summary: Merlin had made his peace with his lonely existence, wandering the world waiting for his king to rise again. Then he saw Morgana on the cover of a magazine. Morgause didn't remember being dead but now she's suddenly alive again with only one thought on her mind: find her sister. Lena couldn't help but think that coming to terms with her magic was a lot less confusing before this whole reincarnation thing.

Story is here | Art is here here | Reblog on Tumblr here ***

Title: The Challenge of the Fey Court Author: thenerdyindividual Artist: pyjamacyrptid Pairings/Characters:  Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Gwaine, Arthur/Gwaine, Merlin/Arthur/Gwaine Rating: Explicit Word count: 97,104 Summary: Balinor meets Hunith and falls madly in love with her. When Ealdor experiences a terrible famine, Balinor takes it upon himself to save them. He makes an agreement with the King of the Seelie (Uther); thirty years of good harvest in exchange for Balinor's first born.

Balinor leaves Hunith with the intention of never having a child with her or any other woman. the problem? Hunith is already with child.

Twenty years later, Merlin is fulfilling Balinor's end of the bargain. He just hopes that his fey husband isn't a complete prat, and that things goes smoothly.

Things do not go smoothly.

Merlin was not expecting to have to complete seven courtship challenges before being allowed to wed. Nor was he expecting his future husband to already be in love with someone else.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: The Oracle Machine Author: Aro_Tarot Artist: Coconut_head3000 Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Rating: General Word count: 33,752 Summary: While traveling to Ealdor, the Merchant, Arthur, stumbles across Merlin being picked on by a group. This chance meeting changes everything when he goes against the Mark on his forearm to help him. Merlin ends up coming back with him to Camelot, a place without magic or choices. The lives of every citizen, Marked by a symbol on their forearm and determined by the Oracle Machine.

Story and Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: the beginning & what follows Author: egeria Artist: myoonmii Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Nimueh, Ygraine, Uther, Morgana, Gaius, Hunith Rating: Explicit Word count: 34,948 Summary: When Nimueh saves Ygraine's life, she couldn't have imagined the far-reaching consequences. Really, the consequences might've been worse, if only a little peasant boy hadn't been born.

or: Merlin is raised knowing who he is and all of Albion looks a bit different as a result.

Story and Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: it wasn't the crash that made us, but the debris Author: SlantedKnitting Artist: LFB72 Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, past Merlin/Lance, Morgana, Leon, Gwen Rating: Explicit Word count: 25,037 Summary: When Arthur buys a new flat, it should mean that everything in his life is slotting into place. Instead, he can’t stop going on bad dates, his sister won’t get off his back about mental health, and the cupboard doors keep mysteriously falling open.

When the ghost who haunts the flat reveals himself, Arthur decides to help him finish whatever unresolved business he has that’s keeping him from properly passing on. Once Arthur gets rid of this ghostly Merlin figure, he can go back to getting his own life in order.

Of course Merlin has a poor memory, and as Arthur tries to dig into Merlin’s life, he gets used to having a ghost around his home.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Right where you left me Author: Brechtjeeatscheese Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Morgana/Mordred Gwaine& Arthur Rating: Mature Word count: 28,797 Summary: It’s the year 2024 and Arthur and his pack live in a nice town where nothing ever happens. That is, until a long lost love from the past shows up again, Merlin, his former crush now turned enemy.

Merlin quickly brings danger to Arthur and his werewolf pack, but things aren’t quite what they seem. Arthur is forced to reevaluate everything he thought about Merlin and vampires before. And he needs to do it fast, otherwise Merlin’s life can very well be forfeit….

Story is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Pas De Deux Author: lavender_spice Artist: Mirayla Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Gwen/Lancelot, Elyan, Annis, Will, Gwaine, Uther, Morgana Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 51,105 Summary: When due to a lucky coincidence, ballet dancer Merlin gets the chance play the the role of White and Black Swan in Swan Lake, he is beyond elated. That is until he realises he will be dancing alongside the golden boy of Camelot Ballet, Arthur Pendragon - an arrogant twat and Merlin's personal nemesis. Can they overcome their differences, or will their mutual animosity destroy the production and their career?

Story and Art are here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Sugar Sweet Serendipities Author: chaosgenes Artist: sunfall_ennien Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Leon/Morgana Rating: Explicit Word count: 48,851 Summary: Arthur Du Bois, CEO of The RoundTable, is a stubborn, self-made man and comfortably well off. Yet, after a few encounters with a certain stranger, he unexpectedly lands himself a sugar daddy. Merlin is twelve years his senior, a modern gentleman, the last of the great Emryson family line, and unimaginably rich.

Coincidences bring them together and love blooms, but each holds a secret that may very well end their budding romance. What they don't know is that it both involves PD Corp’s CEO, Uther Pendragon.

Story and Art are here | Reblog on Tumblr here

[saintsenara]

Why Harry being short and frail (or even petite and delicate) past puberty is such a popular take these days? Sure, he is not bulky, but don't we know from Voldemort himself that James was tall and don't we know that Harry was exactly the same height as James during the final battle? Don't we know that Harry works out 3 times a week and is generally athletic? Is it the same thing that is happening with fanon Sirius or is it something different? Is it because he was short as a child and grew up in a cupboard, thus unlikely to end up like he did at the end of the series? What do you think about it? How likely is it? I keep seeing it in many slash ships and I am genuinely baffled. Is it me who has it backwards? Please solve this mystery, dear Asenora!

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i think several things are at play, tbh - some which are more understandable than others.

the first is that daniel radcliffe genuinely is short [for a british man, at least] - his height is given online as 165cm [or 5'5], but looking at pictures of him leads me to suspect that's an exaggeration - and was, unsurprisingly, even shorter when he was a teenager. many of the other actors in the films are much, much taller than him - especially people like alan rickman and david thewlis, both of whom were over six foot - and since the films inevitably influence how people picture the characters physically, the height differences we see on screen end up becoming part of that.

the second is that, while harry is described as "tall" in canon, that term appears to be doing a fair amount of heavy-lifting. numerous male characters are described as taller than him in both half-blood prince and deathly hallows - with the example which always stands out to me being the fact that fred and george weasley are said to "shrink" when they polyjuice into harry before the seven potters chase. fred and george - like charlie - are described in canon as being noticeably shorter and stockier in build than bill, percy, and ron. unless ron et al. are so tall that it would be thought of as really unusual - let's say above 6'6/198cm - harry probably isn't over 6'0/182cm tall.

thirdly, it's worth saying that what is meant by "tall" is culturally contingent. i've said that daniel radcliffe is shorter than average for a british man - and that's true - but his height isn't going to be thought of in that way in different parts of the world. similarly, there are parts of the world where describing a man who was, say, 5'10/178cm as "tall" would be considered quite strange - but i don't think the uk [where the average male height in 1998 was just over 5'8/174cm] is one of them. certainly, i picture harry as around that height [allowing characters like ron, sirius, dumbledore, and voldemort - who are all described as such - to be noticeably taller than him, but not so tall that their height would be considered abnormal], and i don't think it precludes him still being thought of as "tall" within the context in which he lives. but an author from, for example, the netherlands - where the average male height is 6'0.5/183cm - would probably think differently.

[there's a point about cultural contingency in the quip he makes about being short because of the cupboard too: i would read that as a dark joke which he doesn't actually think has any truth behind it specifically when it comes to his height, but which nonetheless expresses that the dursleys abuse him generally and this abuse has had a long-term impact upon him; readers from other parts of the world take it more literally.]

and finally, harry is definitely physically fit and - of course - works out a lot as part of playing quidditch, but both he and james are emphasised in canon as having slender builds - and it's also implied in the text that seekers are generally slim. harry doesn't need to be seen as any less sporty if we presume that he has the physique of a distance runner or triathlete rather than that of a sprinter.

however, there are definitely some aspects to the tendency for harry to be written as short and slender which do bother me a fair amount - and i do think that these have something in common with what we see with fanon sirius.

that is, that harry and sirius aren't written as short and slender because the author wants them to just happen to be short and slender. they're written as short and slender because the author wants them to be passive. their height/build is emphasised in the story in order to hammer this home - and it's often accompanied by them being assigned other aspects of physical appearance, personality, dress, or manner [especially ones which might be considered as "effeminate"] which, once again, aren't intended to communicate anything other than this passivity.

and - of course - in the writing of vast amounts of slash, any indication of passivity, submissiveness, or femininity - and the physical traits which end up equated with them - is taken as an indication that the character in question would be an exclusive - and submissive - bottom, who defers to the whims of their partner, an exclusive - and dominant - top.

and - unsurprisingly - topping ends up being associated with masculinity - and the personality traits and physical characteristics - above all a tall, muscular build - which are equated with that.

frail!harry seems to be most prominent - in my experience - in ships like tomarrymort, not so much because people really care about the implications of harry's characterisation, but because they're hugely opposed to the suggestion that characters like tom riddle would ever bottom [since - of course - they associate the act of being penetrated with femininity and femininity with weakness...]. great lengths have to be gone to, then, to emphasise that voldemort - or whoever else - is powerful and proud and authoritative and masculine and tall. and, for some reason, this is apparently incompatible with the idea that he might also like to get railed... which means that harry has to make sure nobody is in any doubt about who's the woman bottom by becoming as teeny tiny as he possibly can...

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Devil's Luck - Dr. Fearless/Reader

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader (with some masc nicknames), nothing but typical Fearless failcringe (we love it).

Wordcount: 6836

Summary: Your luck was so weird, you could end up doing something random like win a contest to an online horror host's livestream thanks to a friend, and somehow manage to meet your soulmate, but that might be pushing it, right?

Notes: My first Fearless >:3 this was part of a trade with the wonderful @lakesofneptune for writing me Matty 💗/)//w//(\💗 it was amazing, so in return I've put on my fangs and written this 🧛 I hope you all enjoy~ 🖤🖤🖤

You didn't know how your luck worked, but boy was it prevalent in the weirdest of ways. Hitting every single detour to the point of being late, and still managing to do it on the one day of the month where it somehow still benefited you. Losing your wallet right before you need to pay for groceries, and having it be returned by the hottest person in the store just in time. Entering a random contest because your best friend only wanted half of the prize, and knowing your track record he’d written down your name on the off chance you won, so naturally you did.

That was how you ended up here on a late Monday night of all nights, the details given to you by your friend just hours before as he excitedly barged into your apartment with the announcement email printed off. You'd just gotten home, and he knew that since you were neighbours, the man waiting for you with bated breath it seemed as you watched him slap the paper down on your counter while you were still in the process of taking off your coat. ‘I just made your whole night,’ he boldly claimed, and you just blinked at him while you remained frozen mid-removal. ‘You just won the privilege to be on TV, courtesy of me! Well, not exactly, but it is being livestreamed, that's where the channel is- nevermind, just get ready, there's a dress code for this so you fit in, I wish they'd sent this earlier, we might've had time to do your hair.’

You blinked again as he spoke, his hands wild and his eyes scanning your closet for something that would fit said dress code, and you finished taking off your coat and set it over the back of your couch. ‘Uh, hello to you too,’ you said as you moved on to your shoes, not bothered at all as he started motioning for you to move a little faster. 

‘Okay, I know this doesn't happen for a few hours, but you really do need to get ready,’ he insisted as he headed for your closet and inspected it more closely, your pair of black boots you saved for winter coming out along with the trenchcoat you bought as part of a Halloween costume years ago and just never donated when you were done with it.

‘What the hell are you dressing me as?’ you asked with a curious raise of your eyebrows at the startings of the ensemble, and he seemed unsure about the coat but ultimately set it aside with the boots. He didn't answer you, just rushed to your bedroom to raid your other closet presumably, and you sighed and followed him before he made a mess. 

‘Need dark clothes, spikes, leather, uh… you still have the rest of that costume? I can lend you some of my stuff if you don’t,’ he wondered without even looking at you, and you resigned yourself to your fate and started to dig through the boxes buried behind all the stuff you actually wore.

‘If this is for some kinda sex thing-’

‘It’s not! It's classy, just gothic, I swear,’ he insisted when your outfit was chosen, and as you stared down at it you had to trust your weird luck and that your friend wouldn't lead you astray.

‘Fine, so what is this? Something livestreamed, am I like, putting on a presentation? Do I need to memorize anything?’ There was no fighting this, might as well go with the flow, it would be less painful this way when he brought you to this mysterious location.

‘Well, there's this channel I watch, and they're all about horror, you know how much I love horror; anyway, they got two tickets to that new vampire movie that's coming out, we're talking premium seats, free popcorn, opening night, it's sick as hell. So they started a contest, write them an email about how much you love horror and the first place winner gets the tickets as well as a spot on the show when they go to collect them, and that's gunna be you!’ It was then you noticed that he was dressed a little fancier than usual, his hair was slicked back and he was wearing eyeliner, his own gothness upped a few levels for the occasion.

‘Lemme guess, the winner gets to bring a friend,’ you figured, your reflection showing you a pair of vampires by the time you were done, it was almost kind of funny. 

‘Of course, it's first prize, plus I'm not leaving without those tickets,’ he told you matter of factly, and he looked you over before humming to himself and snapping his fingers. He pulled out an eyeliner pen from his pocket and quickly applied it to you, he was very prepared for this, and you had to admit it did look like you were about to hit the local goth club or something like this. ‘That'll have to do, time to head out, thank you so much for doing this for me, you know how much I hate being on camera.’

‘Oh, so that's why I'm the scapegoat here,’ you realized flatly while you did up your shoes, but he completely missed or ignored your sarcastic tone. 

‘It's just for a half hour, the host is pretty eccentric and he does bits between the movies, so most of your appearance will be banter, and you know how bad I am with that,’ he reminded you like you weren't already well aware of how he clammed up the moment someone shot a quip back at him. ‘So based on the other guests I've seen, you'll just go on, do some talking about horror stuff - which you can bullshit your way through, you've known me long enough - announce a short film submitted to or found by the producers, and then whatever movie is playing next. After that you'll probably get my tickets, we can get outta there, and I’ll tell you if the movie is any good.’

‘Wha- I don't even get to go after all this?’

‘Hell no, you know I’ve been trying to ask that girl down at the 2nd floor out, this is the perfect date, actually perfect, I can’t- I cannot waste this on just us hanging out, can’t do it man, I’m sorry,’ he apologized profusely while also managing to sound not sorry at all, something he was incredibly good at.

‘Alright, but if she doesn’t go for it, I want that second seat,’ you bargained, to which he gladly agreed as thanks for you doing this. That settled, he picked the paper back up off the counter and led the way to his car; the place was some rented building in what used to be a stripmall, all the shops around it closed and rented out for various reasons like this, between self storage, an apartment you were pretty sure, and a small-time but very heavily guarded liquor store. It wasn't impressive, but it brought life to the place you could see as people filled the normally empty parking lot now that the sun had set and the show was about to be in progress.

You’d learned that while it was livestreamed for its channel, they also opened their doors to the locals as well to stop in, catch a movie, and donate if they liked what was going on. You could see that the small crowd they drew were very much into it, no one there ironically to your surprise, and you started to worry that maybe bullshitting your way through your half hour wouldn’t be as easy as your friend thought; you were a casual enjoyer of horror compared to him, and these other people. You liked to see the latest stuff with your favourite B-Tier actor in it when he reappeared for roles, and you enjoyed the popular classics and the odd camp as much as the next guy, but could you get away with that when the person walking in front of you had the bride of Dracula shaved into his hair?

‘I don’t think I can do this, they’ll know I didn’t write the letter,’ you gulped when you transitioned from stripmall to eerily decorated rooms, the whole place looking more like you were about to enter a haunted house than a set. 

‘Shit, I knew I forgot something, I printed it off so you could read it, maybe drop a line or two,’ he hissed before he was forcing a huge smile and presenting his winning ticket even though it should’ve been you. The ticket taker, a tall woman with bright red hair and too many piercings to count, looked you both over before motioning for a shorter woman with white hair done up in high twintails with fake devil horns on her headband to lead your way, and you followed her nervously until you reached the set. It was done up even more than the foyer, two plush chairs with an old box tv between them as the main attraction while the rest was decorated to look like a castle library you presumed.

There was a coffin in the left corner right before the backdrop ended, candles galore - although you were sure they were mostly for show, burnt down until the wax got everywhere while fake ones were hidden between - as well as jars filled with various things. There were so many fake cobwebs you were sure some real ones were bound to be mixed in by now, and even a fake fireplace and chandelier hung from the ceiling next to the boom mic. It was a pretty well-loved set, every nook and cranny you could see positively filled with Halloween and horror themed things; while it looked cheap to buy, everything was touched up and placed with great care, and even now people were leaving tips and browsing the small corner of the room dedicated to themed treats as well as the graciously flowing popcorn maker.

‘Wow, this is the real deal,’ you said aloud before you could help yourself, and instantly you felt a presence behind you that wasn't your friend or the woman who’d brought you over.

‘Indeed, welcome to my humble abode, I trust you’re the lucky vic- I mean, guest I’ll have the honour of sitting with tonight?’ It was a man’s voice, heavy with an over the top Transylvanian accent, and when you turned you were very much not ready to see who it belonged to; out of everyone there, it was clear even from a distance that this was your host, your eyes looking up and up until you met his own. He was pale, caked in makeup to make him appear almost dead, his eyes surrounded by more black than you’d ever seen on anyone outside of Halloween, with a thin, red scar trailing from his forehead to his cheek and a pair of long Nosferatu-style fangs resting over his bottom lip. 

He was all dressed up in his vampiric best, from the black suit overtop his silky, purple shirt, to the red jeweled medallion hanging between the clasps of his impressively expensive-looking cape, but none of that was what really caught your eye. No, it was the haircut, a bob with triangle bangs that were cut way too high, and you couldn’t stop the small and short laugh as it escaped your throat when you saw it. Instantly your friend was there to stop you from letting out more and to introduce himself, your host’s eyes only on you despite the rudeness even as his hand was taken in an eager handshake.

‘Hey! Sorry about that, my name is-’

‘Please, with all due respect, it is your captivating friend here which I am interested in,’ he interrupted as he stole his hand back and presented it to you instead, and you noticed the black nail polish to top it all off when you looked down. ‘You’re the winner of my little search for a lover of all things macabre and fiendish, are you not?’

‘Uh, yeah, that’s me,’ you lied, your friend frozen in shock at getting to shake his hand even for that brief moment.

‘Wonderful, I could sense it when I looked at you, your blood smelled positively rich with fright even from across my theater, a creature after my own heart,’ he swooned like he was in love, and one quick glance to your friend told you it was all part of the bit, he thought himself a Romeo of monsters.

‘Oh, I don’t know if it’s fright, but-’ You cut yourself off when he then took your hand, tired of waiting for you to shake it, but instead of the greeting your friend had gotten, he simply lifted your hand up while he leaned over, and you felt his fake teeth press into your skin as he kissed you hello. 

‘Divine, your pulse under my lips makes my heart soar, perhaps I may get more acquainted with it during the show, turn you into one of my own,’ he thought aloud as he stared at you through dark makeup and long lashes, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or blush at how hard he was hamming it on before the cameras even started rolling.

‘Yeah, sure, I’m the winner, aren’t I? Pretty good prize to become a vampire at the end,’ you joked, but he seemed to take it seriously as his eyes widened briefly in excitement.

‘What a handsome addition to my clan,’ he whispered before kissing you again, and this time you felt less sure about how much he was actually hamming it or if he was a better actor than you originally thought. Your moment was quickly interrupted when a new person arrived to hand him his script for the night, the two talking quietly to themselves as you were guided presumably just out of sight by the shorter woman again. She gave you the quick rundown while you were gently touched up for the cameras, how you were indeed going to be called on, do some banter, introduce some things, and then you were free to go claim your tickets. 

Seemed easy enough, and his eccentricness seemed just as easy to match as long as you forgot the fact that 20+ people were watching you in this room alone, so you practiced your breathing and waited as the lights dimmed and a spotlight fell over the coffin in the corner. You hadn’t watched him enter it but apparently he had, the fireplace now roaring to life behind the chairs and TV, each of the fake candles now creating shadows on everything. The chatter started to quiet until the whole room was silent, everyone gathered into the mismatch of thrifted couches and chairs so it really felt like a theater or even a living room, the only sounds that of the snacks currently being chewed and the fog machine whirring to life.

‘Good evening, Boils and Ghouls, my Fiendish Freaks who dare dredge these long, cold nights with the Creatures of the Dark for any glimmer of light,’ his voice came from the speakers placed around the room, but there was no applause, that wasn't the atmosphere of this place. The coffin creaked open with a perfectly timed soundboard hit, the creak overly loud as he reached out delicately and pushed the lid until he was revealed, and the spotlight landed perfectly on him as he looked out onto the crowd before focusing on the camera. ‘Once again, it is I, your horrid host of the evening, Dr. Fearless, and I thank you all for joining me. Tonight, we have a horrible lineup of classic horror monsters to terrify you with, to finish off our Marathon of Madness leading into the most wonderful month of the year, October.

‘We also have not one, but two short films made by aspiring fearmakers, full of monsters the likes of which this castle has yet to house, let us hope none of them decide to crawl through your screen and find a home there.’ He left the coffin completely as he spoke, taking careful steps towards the leftmost chair, and as soon as he sat down the TV blinked to life, static filling the room as the spotlight faded into something gloomier so the room wasn't in complete darkness apart from the candles. ‘But first, let us welcome our Ghoulish Guest for tonight, the answer to my howls in the dark, the Passenger of the Demeter!’

That was your cue, and the soundboard lit up again with a very classic organ tune as bats chirped in the background, a roar of thunder sounding as you sat across from him. You went to shake his hand properly this time, but again he refused, another kiss warming your hand before he quickly turned your arm to expose your wrist; your eyes widened as he leaned in for a bite, and you almost let him surprisingly enough before you felt the tips of his fangs press into your skin. You jerked away, and he feigned offense before catching himself, an apology tossed your way with a great flourish.

‘Forgive me, I thought you might be offering me a drink to start off the evening, these films often leave me quite parched,’ he projected, and when you opened your mouth to say it was okay you found a zombie standing beside you dressed as a butler; he held out a golden tray, of course silver would be off the menu, and on it was what could only be described as a grand - at least from afar - goblet next to a large wine glass. ‘Thank you, my humble helper, this will greatly help until I may have a taste- er, a toast, with our guest,’ he told the man, who loudly groaned and walked off as soon as the drinks were taken.

You could smell that it was simply fruit punch, but the colour was darker, probably deepend with food colouring, they really were the real deal. He held up his goblet while everyone stared, and you ignored them all as you tapped the rim of your glass against his own before taking a small sip. He seemed pleased, and in one swift movement he set down his goblet, crossed his legs, and adjusted his cape with another grand flourish.

‘Now that our thirsts have been quenched, let us partake in this delectable first short film to start off the night, a fearful story about what happens when love takes a desperate turn,’ he told the cameras dramatically, and the TV flickered to life to show everyone the short in question. ‘You're doing wonderful, my Myotis,’ he whispered to you as the short’s audio was blasted through the room, a secondary screen dropping down to reveal a projector hiding above the chandelier so everyone else could watch.

‘Your what?’ you whispered back in confusion, but he either didn't hear you or ignored the question.

‘By the way, since I was so very entranced by your eyes when we met, I forgot to ask what you would like to be called during our gathering, do you have any special name prepared?’

‘Uh, no, not really,’ you chuckled awkwardly, something like that hadn't even been close to being on your mind.

‘I shall name you like the day you were born, then, something chilling but also fitting of your beauty, your charm,’ he offered, still hamming it up even though only you could hear, and you wondered for a moment if maybe this was just… how he always was, this wasn't an act for the cameras.

‘Okay, shock and awe me,’ you agreed as you took another sip of ‘blood’, and his eyes shone in the firelight as he quickly started to think up something befitting of you; he was silly, and so over the top you knew you could never match this energy, but he was also strangely endearing in a way, a childlike wonder and love for all of this setting him apart from everyone else watching so intently before you, and you could see why people came to the streams, not just watched them at home.

The short ended and you actually didn't notice at first until the credits were over and the screen rose again, the film ended on the TV as well as it switched back to the atmospheric static. ‘Wasn't that frightening, my Fiends? Trading the senses just to keep love, choosing the heart of another over being able to ever see them again, have you ever seen anything more romantic?’ Of course no one answered, and in the audience you saw your friend eating all of this up along with the complimentary snacks that came with being the ‘winner's guest’. ‘Ah, but we are not here for romance, we're here for the darkness within us all to be shared, exposed, torn open and put on display like an embalmed, still-beating heart,’ he continued as he covered the lower half of his face with his cape dramatically. ‘Of course, having met our guest tonight, I might finally understand what that kind of devotion might drive someone to, wouldn't you agree?’

The sound of a beating heart pulsed through the speakers, and he stared at you until you met his eye and he raised his eyebrows suggestively, his mouth still hidden. You tried not to laugh, a bit of a chuckle still escaping, and he still took it and held his hands over his heart as he leaned back in his chair.

‘Like music to my ears, but again, we are not here for love, we are here for fear, terror, maybe even a bit of pain for those so inclined-’ Another eyebrow raise, apparently he was the one inclined. ‘-so allow my devilish date to introduce our next short after a quick message from our benefactors.’ You assumed that was his term for the channel's sponsors, and sure enough someone else came back out to talk about some product they were being pushed to promote off to your right, the camera turning to their section of stage while they talked. This allowed you both another moment to talk, and he handed you a card with the next short’s title as well as some information about it as soon as you were out of sight. ‘Memorize this, the way you've already memorized my very soul, my enticing incubus,’ he told you, and this time you couldn't hide your laugh.

‘Okay,’ was all you had to say to that one as you stifled your surprised snickers, the card small and to the point with its words as such.

‘I must say, with the way you wrote that letter to me, I expected more conversation with you, perhaps you are too overwhelmed by my presence to speak? I apologize if so, I never intended to strike you speechless when it is you who steals the words from my very throat until I cannot breathe,’ he continued as he leaned in, his goblet in hand and faintly staining his pale lips a little more red as he sipped again. You shot your friend a glance, of course your personalities would come off as so different, and you didn't want to get him disqualified at the last second when he was so looking forward to his upcoming date.

‘Guess I'm a bit camera shy,’ you didn't exactly lie, and he let out a long, ‘Ahhhhh~’ in understanding as he turned to watch the device film his co-worker.

‘I, too, used to fear the camera, I worried that it wouldn't be able to record me so my dreams of being a horror host would be dashed, but do not fret, my charming cadaver, I can attest that it is more afraid of you than you are of it, you are doing just fine.’ Despite the flowery - weedy? - language you had to admit that he sounded genuine in his advice, and you nodded to yourself as the sponsor finished up and the two of you prepared to be focused on again.

‘Thanks, I think I'm ready now,’ you whispered to him just before the audience was staring at you again, and you took a bigger sip to steel your nerves and held the card in your hand just out of view. 

‘Wasn't that hypnotizing, I feel the need to go to their digital address and present them with the phrase my associate has just shared so generously with you all.’ He wasted no time in getting back to it, he couldn’t afford to when they still needed to get to the movie before it got too late. ‘Now, it is time for our surprise second tale of sorrow, if you'll allow my guest to tell you all about it, the horrifying, the enchanting, the anticipated… Lord Dullahan~’ 

Your eyebrows raised, naming you after the Headless Horseman despite having a head was a bold move, and you stole a glance at your friend and channeled all of his energy as you sucked in a deep breath and felt the atmosphere settle into your bones. ‘Good evening, as a great enjoyer of the strange and unusual, I find myself quite at home here, my dear Fearless,’ you said as grandly as you could, making sure to project your voice loud so it could be picked up by not only the boom mic high above but also the audience, and your friend gave you two thumbs up before delving back into his popcorn with a big smile. 

Fearless, on the other hand, looked positively surprised by you, and you swore you might've seen actual hearts - medically accurate ones at that - in his eyes as he stood up and fell to one knee in front of the TV with a large swish of his cape behind him, his hand finding yours before you could blink.

‘The pleasure is all mine to host you, my dear Dullahan,’ he said like you were the only two in the room, briefly losing himself in the bit it seemed, and the person manning the soundboard thought now would be a perfect time to make use of that beating heart cue again. You heard your friend snicker so you doubled down and kissed his hand before pulling yours away to take another sip, going for a more mysterious air after your long silence in front of everyone else. You couldn't be sure under the lights and his makeup but it almost looked like his cheeks flushed a bit at the gesture, and you grinned at the taste of his own medicine before going back to your little ‘script’.

‘While the storm rages outside, why don't you join us by this warm fire while we watch a tale about what happens when you try to cheat death, and how you might just get exactly the answers you've been looking for along the way.’ You had no cape, but you still hid your face the same way he had, and when you glanced down and saw him still kneeling there you swore that he might actually think you were his soulmate with how genuinely in love he looked, he was a damn good actor under all the camp. ‘Doctor, I believe our guests might not be able to partake along with us as long as you’re down there, would you prefer to watch from your seat, or mine?’

This one threw him through a loop greater than he’d done to you, and when he looked unable to answer, his hands hovering over your own, your knee, his eyes never leaving your own, you then channeled every vampire movie you’d ever seen; you pet him under the chin, dragging your finger across his jaw to his chin in order to make him stand, and he did so easily he might actually be hypnotized, you had to give it to him for selling all this so seamlessly. Just when he looked ready to sit, you stood as well and took his seat, giving him yours to finish the bit, and the TV sparked back to life as he sat down and watched you instead of the screen. Behind you, the short played again just over your heads, and you nearly drank from his goblet before realizing that yours was still on the opposite table.

‘An indirect kiss from you would be like a dream, a nightmare on a stormy night, such bliss you could give me,’ he whispered as he went to drink from your own, and you shook your head and exchanged it back without distracting the audience too much from the film.

‘Sorry, maybe next time,’ you joked, your throat surprisingly dry even after such little speaking. ‘You’re good at improv, sorry for nearly derailing things, by the way.’

He shook his head, his disappointment over the kiss looking a little too real as he set his goblet back down on the other table. ‘Do not trouble yourself over such a trivial thing, none have ever rendered me as silent as the grave as you have, I fear it is my head that may roll by the end of the night,’ he waxed poetically at you, still hamming it up before a new disappointment showed on his face. ‘Ah, but alas, I may never get that privilege, you’re to leave me once the film begins, are you not?’

You paused, you’d almost forgotten about that part, in fact your friend was already starting to gather up his many wrappers and stuff them into the now empty popcorn bag, the flashing lights shining on him in his seat. You frowned, this was too much fun, more than you expected it to be, and you motioned for him to lean in; he eagerly did, his eyes wide and looking pitch black instead of brown in the darkness no matter how close he came to you. ‘Would I be able to stay for the film? I mean, I can move to the audience somewhere, or to the floor if there’s no room, I’ve just… never done anything like this before, I don’t want to leave, not right away, at least?’

He almost broke character as he actually looked away from you and to the people in the glass-partitioned studio where his live editor and director sat, and he had a wordless conversation with them in front of you while the audience focused on the scifi hell going on behind you. When he looked back he was himself again, or Fearless, more rather, and he reached across the TV’s expanse in search of your hand. You humoured him as thanks, and he nodded his head, already coming up with his next lines no doubt as the film above finished up.

‘How terrifying, again we’ve seen what lengths we will go to for love, and what harm we will bring to those in the way of those lengths,’ he said as soon as the screen was raised again, and you nodded at the camera and crossed your legs, his chair definitely more comfy than your own had been despite being the same.

‘Would you ever go to such lengths for love, Doctor?’ you asked in order to keep your presence worth it, and again he tripped over his own tongue as he gazed over to you.

‘I shall tonight, if anyone dares separate us before midnight,’ he threatened playfully with a theatrical wave of his hands, a subtle warning to those behind the glass after his conversation with them. ‘Speaking of, the clock is about to strike, soon it will be October, and I cannot think of better company to start off the season of witches and werewolves and welcome my fellow vampires back into the harvest moonlight.’ He stood and gave his audience a bow, a chorus of bats nearly making you jump as he dipped down low. ‘The time is upon us now, the countdown begins, and so I shall have to bid my guest adieu so we may partake in our grand finale of the evening; Lord Dullahan, if you’d please?’

He extended his hand back to you, and you tried to hide your disappointment as you took it, only for him to get you one last time; he drew you close and lowered his face into your neck, not actually biting you but still startling you enough to make you cling to him in a not so unpleasant fear. Your eyes widened as you sucked in a shaky breath, your fingers digging in what had to be uncomfortably into his bicep and shoulder, and you heard him chuckle before you realized what was going on and you fell limp in his arms.

‘A creature so lovely cannot be permitted to leave this castle alive! Forgive me, my innocent Dullahan, I could not resist the sweet call of your blood, your heartbeat, the way I had to feel it pulse under my piercing fangs… I swear I shall care for you here, this castle will forever be your home, and you will forever be mine!’ You pretended to look drowsily up at him, your grip returning to his arms since you’d gone a bit too limp and there was now a very real chance of him dropping you on the floor in front of everyone. You rubbed at your neck and winced, and when you brought your hand up you showed the red from your obscured glass now staining your fingers to finish selling it.

‘Whatever you desire, Master,’ you slurred, knowing that that kind of title usually went along with these kinds of situations, and you watched in stunned silence as the soundboard accidentally sent out what could only be described as a cartoonish boing sound before the correct sound of thunder crashed instead. Fearless hid his face as he bit his lip, his shoulders tensing as the soundboard operator was wildly chastised behind the glass, and you hid your face in his shoulder until your own laughing stopped. 

‘Very good, I knew I chose well,’ he continued after a brief moment of almost losing it, and you blew out a quick breath and let him help you stand, the loud song of a clock chiming letting you know that it was now midnight. ‘The clock tower! Hear its chimes, and know that midnight is upon us!’ he called out to everyone, and you weren’t surprised as everyone actually joined in on the countdown. As they slowly called out the numbers, Fearless grabbed your drink and handed it back to you, your arms hooked now that you guessed you were his, and when it struck midnight you both drank until your glasses were empty.

You frowned at the taste, that wasn't your fruit punch, and you noticed in the confusion that he’d actually handed you his own, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as you tasted actual wine, guess the colour wasn't just for show in his case.

‘An indirect kiss was indeed such a dream, what bliss,’ he repeated, and you felt your face grow just as red as the liquid in his goblet at how low his voice had become. ‘And now, our grand finale of the evening to start off our marathon to Halloween starting tomorrow night, featuring a marathon of horror as voted by you all out there. So, grab some wine, or blood, of your own, maybe find something tasty to bite into while you watch, as I present to you: The Creature Walks Among Us~’

The screen lowered for the final time, the audience getting up to replenish their snacks for the movie as the opening credits rolled, and your friend quickly threw out his trash and jogged over to you. ‘Great work, I knew you’d be a natural up there, let’s grab those tickets and head out, I’ve already seen this one a million times,’ he said excitedly as the producer came out with an envelope, Fearless finally leaving your side to go get it to present to you.

‘Yeah, actually I think I’m gunna stay,’ you confessed, and he looked between you and your host before something sly showed on his face.

‘For you, my dear Du- forgive me, I suppose you don’t need that title away from our other guests,’ Fearless said almost nervously as he approached with ‘your’ gift, and your friend snatched it from you the second it was placed into your hands.

‘Thanks so much, this was fantastic, I had a real blast tonight, I hope you two enjoy the movie, I know I sure will,’ he told you cheekily before rushing out, probably in the worry that someone might take them back from him, and you waved at his back a moment before turning back to Fearless.

‘Shall I grab a seat now that his is free? I’ve never seen this one before,’ you asked, and he glanced over to it before wrapping his arm - and cape - around your shoulders; he waved aside the solo guy taking up the couch and had him move to your friend’s vacant chair, and the short woman from before brought you a tray filled with complimentary snacks as you both sat down next to each other. She asked for your favourite drink, his already poured into a decorative glass shaped like a skeleton, clearly he also preferred to watch the movie from over here, and he let you sit against him as your own drink was brought over in a glass shaped like a bat curled around a branch. ‘Fancy, you do this with all your prize winners?’

‘No, just you,’ he whispered, and for a moment you actually looked around to see who’d spoken until it hit you that it was him, without the heavy accent. ‘Our mics are off, we can talk a little more normally while this is playing, unless you prefer Fearless?’ he asked, his voice changing back at the end, and you just blinked at him before grabbing some popcorn.

‘And who might you be, if not my dear Dr. Fearless?’ you teased, and this time you were sure he blushed as he let out a small yet nervous laugh.

‘Dwight, actually, and you are?’ You went to say your own name before you stopped, tried to say your friend’s instead, and he shook his head and held up a hand to get you to stop. ‘I figured it out a while ago, but I knew for sure when you said you’d never seen it after singing its praises in the letter,’ he chuckled, and you cringed and sat up a little straighter.

‘I’m sorry, he was really excited for the tickets he’s just- terrible with being put on the spot, I swear he actually is a fan,’ you explained quickly, Dwight looking you over as his face almost changed into someone different; it was then you noticed he’d taken out his fangs so he could enjoy the snacks, and the cute goofiness suddenly transformed into rather handsomeness even with the wig.

‘And you’re not, judging on how you acted with me tonight,’ he confirmed, and you could only nod. ‘But you are now, I take it, after the show you gave everyone?’

‘I might be swayed, you did turn me, after all,’ you joked, Dwight’s eyes drifting to your neck like he might actually try again. ‘The constant love confessions were a surprise though, he didn’t warn me about those when he got me to come on here.’

‘Not a surprise to me, seeing as they were all genuine,’ he said simply before taking a drink, the opening credits finally over as everyone sat back down again to enjoy the film.

‘They were-?’

‘Even if I could tell you weren’t the soulmate I thought you might be in his letter, I must say that I did wanna get to know you, all the same,’ he admitted before hiding himself in a big bite of chocolate, and you thought over everything he’d said the past almost hour as your heart raced a little faster. It was silly, and over the top, and you still had no idea what a Myotis was, but you couldn’t deny that this creature beside you was not only silly but also fascinating, and you sat a little closer to him as you reached across his lap to grab his drink.

‘What was it you said? “An indirect kiss would be bliss”?’ you wondered before taking a sip, his real front teeth biting into his bottom lip as he watched. You gave him your name along with his drink, and you finally saw how your strange luck had struck once again as he offered you a bite of chocolate to go along with your handful of popcorn, the movie barely holding your attention as the two of you whispered to each other all throughout it.

[echantedtoon]

Still Not Over You

Xmas Gift for @lavenderdropp I know it's really early but I have so many projects planned for the next three months that I have to get these done early.

Kimetsu Gauken Kokushibo x Reader x Sanemi

*You didn't exactly know how or why it happened but somehow you ended up getting divorced within a year and a half of you both getting married.

*You both met in highschool and had hit it off immediately. Dating ever since you both were fourteen and upon graduation got married at eighteen. It seemed perfectly natural to do at the time. You both were madly in love with each other, and you got along with his entire family. So imagine your surprise when he asked you for a divorce almost two years into your marriage.

*It was heartbreaking and came out of no where but no matter how much you cried or how much you asked why, he refused to elaborate on why insisting you both just sign the papers he brought with him and be amicable about this.

*What he hadn't told you was that he was forced to divorce you by nature of the dangers of his job. Working as a spy and secretary for Muzan meant lots of enemies surrounding the corrupt politician trying to take over Japan. I'm order to protect you, he had to divorce you and he it hurt him just as much as you.

*He made sure to leave you everything he could in the divorce. The house, car, and most of his money was handed over as compensation as he moved out to begin his new profession and new life. He later hears that you had sold the house you both used to share and moved away. He's heartbroken but not surprised really. He only hopes that in time you'll forgive him.

*Three years passed. He's now working as Muzan's personal secretary and security. He hasn't seen you in forever. The last he heard, you had graduated from college and was looking for a job. So he really wasn't expecting you to show up at a meeting between Muzan and his cousin Kagaya. Both of them brought their secretaries to take notes during the meeting. 

*He was shocked to see you there and vice versa staring at each other.. before you remained professional and just kept your focus on the meeting. Seeing you there was whiplash enough but seeing you working for Kagaya? A feeling of hurt and betrayal festered in his heart. He makes sure to ask Nakime about you , and she reveals that you're her secretary and was Hired by Kagaya about three years ago now.

*Heart pounding he tries to contact you again. Getting your number from Nakime but finding out he's blocked on there and your other social medias. He understands that you don't want to see him but he can't help himself. He ends up taking a day off and waiting for you to leave. Well he spots you and surprises you by blocking your way and stopping you 

*You immediately get angry. The calm conversation he tries to have devolving into an argument with you yelling at him. The yelling attracts looks and the attention of a white haired man around the corner. "Oi, Y/n! This asshole bothering you?"

*The man who came around the corner was Sanemi, the school's math teacher.. Kokushibo recognized him from the information Nakime gave him. However what he wasn't expecting was for the smaller man to come up to you and wrap an arm around your waist in a protective stance. "Is this guy bothering you, Honey?"

*HONEY?! WHAT?! "What?"  "This is my boyfriend. We've been dating for two years." It turns out once you started working for Kagaya, Sanemi fell for yoh at first sight. You were just so kind, sweet, and treated him with respect. He wasn't used to it 

*You both became quick friends however you weren't ready for another relationship yet which he respected. You hadn't really met a man like Sanemi before. Despite his outward appearance and generally brashness, he was actually a super sweet guy who loved kids and respected women. You saw that in the way he treated the lady staff and how passionate he was about teaching.

*You were slowly getting over your heartbreak of Kokushibo and fell more and more and MORE for Sanemi who didn't look down on you for being a divorced woman. He treated you no differently than everyone else. You finally agreed to go on a lunch date with him and you two have been together ever since 

*SANEMI quickly put two and two together for who Kokushibo was and he was not having it. He's grip tightened up on you, viens popped up along his body, and the urge to just pummel the taller man in front of him was high but he restrained himself. He didn't want to make a scene in front of you and the kids.

*Kokushibo is deadly calm but he's restraining himself as well because his fists are shaking as he stares at Sanemi. Eventually it ends when you grab Sanemi's arm and start pulling him away after sending your ex a glare. "He's not worth it, Nemi. Good bye, Michikatsu. Don't try contacting me again."

*His heart breaks in two seeing you cling on the arm of another man, fists tightening before he leaves. You best bet that this wasn't over because both men aren't willing to give you up so easily.

[sitepathos]

141 w/ Armored Titan Male Reader

A/N: ok, I know I said I was working on a CoD/Star Wars series, but I kinda forgot about the draft I barely worked on after a while and now I’ve been on a AoT kick lately, so hope this is an acceptable substitute. For a little world building, you were created in a lab with Titan abilities and the lab was raided, Laswell learned about you and had you spirited away to the 141. Both to help them on their missions and to ensure you don’t end up being used as a weapon by certain generals in the States.

Price

When Laswell told him she was sending him a young man with the ability to turn into a giant, he was worried that she’d finally gone off the deep end and was actually planing on staging a kidnapping so she’d take some time off.

Then when he finally met you and saw you turn into the Armored Titan, he was blown away by the sight of 15m giant with more armor than a tank appearing out of thin air.

He didn’t know what to make of you, a young man barely old enough to serve in the military that’d spent his entire life cooped up in a lab and being prepared as a weapon of war, but Laswell said she’d owe him big time for this and she always makes good on her promises.

Plus, when he saw your record, he couldn’t help but take you in. He has a thing for strays and is bad for collecting them for his prized task force.

When you completed your first mission, he knew you were staying with 141 and he’s fight tooth and nail to keep you. Seeing you smash through enemy defenses like they were nothing and crushing enemy troops like they’re bugs is a sight he’d never forget.

Gaz

When Price told them they would have a giant on their team, he thought his captain meant König would be a permanent member on 141. Then you were shown to them, easily the shortest person in the room.

When you demonstrated your ability on the training grounds by turning into the Armored Titan before all of them, he was speechless. One moment, you’re some scrawny looking kid and the next, you’re a bulky beast that towers over them.

He was interested in knowing how you came to be and asked Price, who handle his your file. When he learned that you were nothing but a lab rat for all of your life and now had nowhere to go, he reached out, offering you someone to talk to and showing you how to live outside of a cold, dark lab.

Obviously you were confined to the base at night for safety reasons, but as long as you had an escort, you were allowed to leave during the day. During that time, he would show you around London, pointing out important landmarks and tourist attractions.

He’ll always treasure the first mission you went on with them, charging through the enemy base and shrugging off small arms and explosives like they were mosquito bites. That was probably the first mission where all the enemies were killed and no one on 141 fired a shot.

Ghost

Oh boy, when you first met him, he scared you more than the scientists and their endless poking and prodding.

And this man already has MAJOR trust problems. The moment he realized that you could turn into the Big Unfriendly Giant due to a paper cut, he was demanding Price end you back to the States.

At first, he wanted nothing to do with you. You get anywhere near him and his gaze scorched you more than exposed Titan flesh.

Then, your first mission happened. After they collected the info they were after, a few hostiles realized you were a distraction and turned their rocket launchers on their position, but before impact, you shielded them with your hand, absorbing the blast and crushing the shooters like they were bugs.

After that, he decided you were owed a little trust. After all, you are a part of 141. (Also, watching you break through an enemy compound was like fucking beautiful.)

Soap

You ever see a child on Christmas morning? That’s exactly how this hardened soldier looked like.

As a demolitions expert, he’s obsessed with being able to deal the most damage to an enemy, leaving them with absolutely nothing worth salvaging. And here you come, being able to do that like it’s nothing!

Of course he’s a little wary of you, but he prides himself on being a good judge of character and seeing you as some poor kid whose whole existence revolved around being the ultimate weapon, he welcomes you with open arms and convinces his team to give you a chance.

No matter the mission, he’ll ALWAYS demand to be on your shoulder as you charge through an enemy base, pancaking hostiles and their equipment like they were bugs. Mostly because he loves watching you deal the kind of destruction he can only dream of, but also because he loves getting to ride on a giant.

Seriously, even on base, he’ll BEG you to give him a ride.

While Gaz shows you all of London’s tourist hot spots, he’ll show you to all his favorite pubs, determined that he’ll be the one to share your first drink with. He’s also determined to bring you to Scotland, insisting “it’s better than those Brits’ city.”

@darkangel4121

[sunnykeysmash]

Man of words

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[yavin42]

just finished the second season of black sails and i gotta say i understand why it makes queers go feral