#this feels a bit bogged down to me already so

[electrozeistyking]

I am so incredibly curious about N and Uzi before…. N had to kill her…

What was life like as a married drone couple? How did they do their wedding? How awkward was the conversation about having a kid?

I’m also curious about V in this AU, what are her thoughts on all that’s going on… N killing Uzi, N having a kid, N being fricken’ depressed… She was a broken individual in the canon, is she still just as broken here? Has she healed from all that the solver’s but her through?

sorry for the many questions, but as an obsessive individual you have crafted the perfect thing for me to obsess over and i am dying for more content lol.

p.s. are there more fics to come? Ik ya only have the one prologue rn, are more chapters on their way?

Hey, no need to apologize for being curious! I quite like the amount of questions! Tells me you're interested in the AU, y'know? Anyway, let me dig up some old notes!

These aren't the full notes, though. A lot was cut, especially if they involved spoilers and/or if they made this go on for too long.

Everything was as fine as it could possibly be on this frozen, toxic exoplanet. Hell, this stretch of fine-ness went on long enough that one of them decided to propose to the other.

And by one of them, I mean Uzi. 

This is based on some observations (aka the hand holding thing in Episode 6), but N was a major fucking dork when V asked him if he was thinking about proposing to Uzi — y’know, saying things like “I don’t know if I should” and “maybe she doesn’t want to go that far” and “maybe we’re fine as is?”

Then meanwhile Uzi’s been drawing up plans on how the hell she’s going to propose to this tall ass robot.

In the end, she kinda threw it all to the wind and decided to do so with no big events or plans or anything. She kinda panicked, though, so she said “Do you wanna marry me?” instead of “Will you marry me?”

N nearly short-circuited trying to say yes. He was kind of having a “Oh my goodness, this is happening????” moment and a “OH SHE DOES WANT TO GO THAT FAR” moment at the exact same time, so something may have literally sparked.

[...] there was a funny period of time where the duo kept very suddenly realizing they’re married, like it didn’t actually sink in until that moment. 

In fact, N exclaimed “oh my goodness” and leaned against something every time it occurred to him.

Unfortunately, the good fluffy times couldn’t last forever. 

You see, one way or another, our beloved robotic dorks somehow found themselves on the topic of having a kid. The conversation itself was fine, if slightly awkward at first (what with N being unsure he’d be good at parenting, anyway). However, just as they reached the peak of “hey, would they be more disassembler or more worker” jokes, Uzi started coughing. 

Which is not normal for any kind of drone. Unless they accidentally swallow something wrong, or if the air’s a bit too thick for whatever reason, drones don’t cough for seemingly no reason. And yet, despite how odd it was, both of them tried to brush it off.

In a brilliant moment of jumping to conclusions (even if they’re the right ones), Uzi realized that The Solver was trying to take over her body.

In a panic, N tried to help any way he could, but felt like he was doing nothing in the process. Uzi just kept getting worse, and every time they landed up empty-handed, the thought he was failing her stung even more. 

V tried to help as well, out of fear over what that thing would do if It took over (and because she did think of Uzi as a friend, even if she’d never admit it to her face).

When The Solver started hijacking her body during one such search to find a way to stop It, Uzi realized it was all over for her. 

Whatever this thing was — whatever It wanted — wasn’t good. And so, in a moment of desperation and panic, she came up with a plan to destroy It. Hopefully, if everything worked in their favour, It’d be gone once and for all.

Of course, its success banked on N’s cooperation. Since V split off from the duo this time, he was the only disassembly drone who could possibly carry it out. Predictably, he tried to decline at first, seeing as the plan was to kill Uzi and destroy her core.

However, when Uzi explained that this was the only way to get rid of this fucking thing, N reluctantly agreed. Despite being incredibly painful, he brought out his laser gun (which is what I think it is, shut up) and the couple had one last heartfelt goodbye.

But then, just as N went to shoot her, the laser turned an awful shade red he’s never seen before and started malfunctioning — something that’s supposed to rarely ever happen. N panicked, calling out Uzi’s name... right before the weapon exploded.

V felt the vibrations of the explosion from where she stood and immediately rushed to N and Uzi’s location. She assumed that something went wrong, but what she saw was not what she expected.

Uzi was dead. 

There was a Fatal Error message on her visor, as clear as day. She was in multiple pieces, with a hole in her chest right where her core was supposed to be — having most likely imploded, thanks in part to The AbsoluteSolver’s weirdness.

While N was alive, his body was in rough shape. He’d been split in two due to the blast, and his chest had been cracked wide open. Judging from how dark smoke billowed from where one of his hands should’ve been, something had gone completely wrong. 

But how? There was a very small chance their weapons could malfunction, and yet... what the fuck happened?

V chose not to dwell on it too long. N’s body wasn’t regenerating on its own fast enough for some reason, and he was losing a shit ton of oil at an alarming rate. 

Fuelled by pure adrenaline, V somehow managed to carry both of N’s halves and all of Uzi’s pieces back to the Outpost.

[pierswife]

You see, the real April Fool's joke was Vash's placement on my F/O list.

This right here? A farce.

Now this? This is the truth.

[gilverrwrites]

Summer Loving

Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Roy, & Tim.

AN: Have a lot of lengthy and/or smutty wips on the go atm and I can feel them bogging me down a bit, so I decided to take a break and work on some short summer themed slice of life/domestic fluff to cleanse my palate. I feel I must apologise for my gratuitous and obvious Roy Harper thirst but I wont, enjoy!

CWs: Some are more suggestive than others, reader discretion advised. Minor swearing and minors swearing, mentions of alcohol. GN! Reader

Bruce: Tan Lines

It’s moments like these where you wish Bruce didn’t have to spend his nights on the endless pursuit of justice. You knew what you’d signed up for, but you’d missed him all day and god, the feel of his strong fingers massaging after sun into your skin was euphoric. Would you be such a bad guy for trying to convince him to stay home?

“I like this.” His hum pulls you from your train of thought, and you look down to see his fingers trailing against the tan line your shorts had caused. He spares you a quick suggestive glance, the look a wolf might give a rabbit it’s particularly fond of before dipping down to replace his hands with his mouth.

“Ohhh, stay home tonight Brucie?” The look he gives you this time maintains its warmth but there’s an air of warning to it. Despite his simmering combativeness, you add a charming “Please?”

To that he lifts his head, just far enough to deny you of his lips, but close enough that his low voice still seems to reverberate through your body as he speaks. “Crime doesn’t take the night off, neither can I.”

“I know.” You sigh, admitting defeat before the battle has even begun, and he rewards you by assuming his barrage of kisses to your lower body.

“Just don’t go out too early.” You advise, trailing the tip of your finger from ear to ear, estimating the line where his Batman cowl ends. “Don’t want to get any tan lines of your own.”

“Trust me.” There’s humour in his tone now as he works his way upwards, ghosting his 5 o'clock shadow along the skin of your stomach as he prowls closer. “The evening is young, and I have plans for you yet.”

Dick: A/C

The A/C is broken. Again. To combat the heat the whole household has resorted to wearing nothing but their underwear, except of course for Haley who is always naked. Lucky dog.

Additionally, all the windows are open in an attempt to let the cool night air circulate the humid apartment but all it’s really doing is letting in the ambient sound of Blüdhavens boisterous nightlife and countless flies.

“Want one?” Dick asks from the kitchen spaces as he digs into his second ice pop since dinner, you joke about envying his metabolism despite knowing damn well that’s not the real reason for his physique. Although between the food and the heat-induced skipped workout, he’s bloating, just a little bit; the tiniest, most delicious bit of plumpness and you can’t take your eyes off of it. “Are you checking me out?”

“Always.” You reply with a brazen smile, continuing your laser-focused stare even as he begins approaching your spot on the couch.

“How about you stop looking and start touching, huh baby?”

“No.” You finally cease your objectification of his stomach to look him in the eyes. The intended sternness in your tone is stifled by the way his icy confection has turned his lips blue. “I already told you, no sex in this heat until the air con is fixed.”

Despite your posturing, you don’t fight his closing proximity, nor do you stop him from dragging his cool-raspberry-stained tongue along the length of your throat, it’s still cold from the half-eaten lolly and the sensation sends a welcome chill through your body. As inefficient as it may be, you much prefer this method of cooling down to an A/C.

Jason: Sunrise

The metal grate of your fire escape is surprisingly cool against your bare feet. It’s early, pre-sunrise early but the air is still thick, a combination of the arid summer heat and steam of the cities underground. Despite the unpleasant temperature, you settle onto the grill, with nothing but a pillow for comfort and two ice-cold glasses of lemonade.   

When 15 minutes pass, and you start to notice a growing tinge of orangeness in the sky, you start to worry you’re being stood up, or worse; something awful has happened. Something that would prevent him from coming home, but then you hear it; The heavy steps of Jason’s steel-toed boots approaching from your apartment’s rooftop.

You glance up just in time to see him dropping down. A loud clang rings out as he hits the floor, causing the whole structure to vibrate and you wonder if he does that every night, surely not, there’s no way you could sleep through it or that your neighbours wouldn’t complain.

“Aren’t you sweating balls?” You ask, taking in his gear as he sits down beside you. The boots, the cargo pants, turtleneck, jacket, gloves, and the full-face mask.

“Nah.” His voice is muffled by the headpiece until he takes it off, shaking his head to support his answer. “It’s weird but I’ve kinda run cold ever since I died, you know?”

Obviously you don’t know, in fact having felt his searing, naked skin pressed to yours on multiple occasions, you highly doubt him, but you nod regardless and hand him his drink. Unlike a man on the chilly side, he chugs half of the icy drink in one go and you wonder if he’ll ever stop jumping from buildings and telling white lies to impress you.

“Want some help warming up?” Before he can respond you lean up, brushing your nose against his and watching as his lids flutter closed in anticipation, his breath is cool on your lips and when you finally press into them you can taste nothing but the tartness of the lemonade. Regardless, it’s heavenly; soft and tender. Every kiss with Jason makes your heart flutter in the same way it had the first time.

When he pulls away you chase after him, eyes only opening to meet his heterochromatic irises when your pursuit for more becomes an abundant failure.

He’s grinning as he tells you; “We’re missing the sunrise.”

“I don’t care.” You answer, trying again, and this time succeeding in drawing him in for another kiss.

Roy: Paddling Pool

If ever anybody asked you to describe a moment of pure domestic bliss, this moment would be a strong contender. Your lower body is submerged in a paddling pool as you bask in the sun, enjoying the occasional splash of water caused by Lian’s uncoordinated but enthusiastic dancing beside you. She too is basking, but hers is under an endless stream of hose water being directed by her father; Roy, who is watching the two of you from a sun lounger, hosepipe in one hand and a non-alcoholic beer in the other.

He's quite the vision, no shoes, no shirt, just tastefully tacky swim trunks and his iconically worn-out grey baseball cap that may be protecting his head, but is doing little to tame his mop of fiery hair. From this angle, you’ve got a great shot of some of his lesser-seen tattoos, but every time you look over at him you find yourself far more smitten with the countless freckles that adorn his chest and shoulders, made darker and more noticeable by the recent heatwave.   

“How’s the Heineken?” You ask, genuinely curious how he’s enjoying his first taste of alcohol-free booze.

“Crap.” He replies, lips briefly curving into a self-amused smirk before dropping to woefully panicked as you both turn to look at Lian. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have been listening in, content in her own toddler babblings. Relieved, he turns his attention back to you and corrects himself. “Um, not good babe.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.” You offer your condolences, but he seems completely unbothered.

Instead, he turns the glass bottle around in his hands a few times before chucking it over his shoulder. It sails through the air before seamlessly landing in the open bin by your backdoor. Your concern about it leaking into the rest of the recycling is seconded by how impressed you are. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times his trick-shot hit, you’re always at least a little bit captivated by his impeccable aim.    

“It’s cool, hon.” He shrugs and leans back into the lounger. His eyes flicker back and forth between you and his child, a slow, contented smile spreading across his face. “Got everything I need right here.”  

Bonus:

Hours later, you’re sorting through the soggy contents of the recycling as Roy scoops Lian up in his arms and takes her sleepy frame inside. The sun is still high and bright, but it’s past her bedtime, and it’s been a long, exciting day for her. He dries her with the softest towel he can find, careful to pat down every pruned finger and toe before putting her to bed.

“How was your day, sweetie?” He asks, strong fingers petting her soft hair to help soothe her to sleep.

“Crap!”   

Tim: Ice Cream

Tim is still sleeping off a rough, muggy night of crime fighting as you circumnavigate the boat's sad excuse for a kitchen. The bags under his eyes had been growing darker each day under the stress of hunting down a mysterious new bank robber. You’d hoped to lift his spirits by surprising him with a tub of homemade ice cream, but so far all you’d managed to make is a mess.

After having a falling out with the thrifted ice cream maker you’d stuffed in the back of a cupboard months ago, you settled for hand mixing. By the time you put the concoction in the freezer to set, your wrists are aching, and Tim has begun to stir. You’re just finishing up the dishes you’d created when he finally emerges from the bedroom in shorts, flip-flops, and a not-so-summer-appropriate hoodie.

Before you can offer a ‘good morning, Timmybear’ his arms are around your waist, pulling you close from behind and settling the weight of his sleepy head on your shoulder.

“What’s this?” He asks and then he’s licking what you can only assume is a stray splash of the mixture from your cheek with the bravery only a man raised by Batman could possess. It could have been literally anything. “Banana?”

“Chunky monkey actually.” Goddamn. Surprise ruined in less than a minute. Oh well, at least you can give him something to look forward to. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get ice cream without you, I made it for you.”

“I figured.” He hums, sounding so very drowsy despite the ease with which he manoeuvres your body against the kitchen counter so he can keep you close while brewing his morning tea, occasionally planting soft kisses to the side of your neck as his hands move absentmindedly. “You’re the best, you know that? Can’t wait to try it.”

“You figured? How did you figure?” You skip right past the justified praise; he’d been practically comatose since 4 AM, how could he have figured?

“It’s on the ceiling.” He’s right, you look up to see a cream-soaked walnut lodged above you and let out a dramatic sigh as you fall deeper into Tim's arms.

Taglist: @wandalfnation

[w2soneshots]

Announcement -W2S

words: 0.6k+

warnings: pregnancy.

summary: you and Harry announce your exiting news to the sidemen in an interesting way.

notes: hello my babies! I haven’t done a dad!bog fic in forever and this brought back all my baby fever🥹. Here’s the request. Enjoy!!🧸💓🫶🏼

Today me and Harry are announcing our pregnancy to the boys. We've been keeping it our little secret for just over four months and it has been difficult but we've loved it. I'm not an official member of the sidemen but I'm always in their videos so morning sickness and the crazy hormones have been hard to hide, along with the fact I now have a bump. I haven't worn anything tight fitting in weeks. We wanted to do something funny and casual with the boys so when we found out that they were filming a photo roulette for more sidemen we knew that was our chance.

"You nervous?" I asked Harry as we drove. "Not really, I'm just excited to finally tell everyone." He replied with a smile. We told our families a few days ago and they were all ecstatic. "I feel the same. Also we're gonna need to tell Faith ASAP because we both know Ethan can't keep any secrets from her." Harry chuckled, knowing I was definitely right.

When we arrived outside of the building and Harry parked we made our way upstairs. "Hey! Feeling better?" Tobi asked as we walked into the studio. Last week I had to leave a side plus shoot early because I started to feel nauseous. The boys were concerned but Harry reassured them that I was fine, since he knew that it was just because I'm pregnant. "Yeah." I smiled with a light nod of my head.

Once we sat down to film we began with a few other videos then finally after around two hours it was time. "Hello and welcome to 'sidemen photo roulette', with y/n!" Simon announced to the camera. "Everyone has sent in a random amount of pictures from their camera rolls and you'll all have to guess who sent it in." He explained. Simon was going to be able to see the pictures so I was just hoping he would stay silent.

We got started and we saw some really funny and random photos. As the game went on my hands were fidgeting as I anticipated what was going to happen. "Ok and the final pic." The picture me and Harry had taken of our dog with the baby's first ultrasound in his mouth popped up on the tv. The room went silent. "Is that? Oh my god!" Ethan jumped from his seat, looking straight at me and Harry. Everyone quickly began to catch on and cheers filled the room.

Once everyone said congratulations we sat back down. "How many months are you?" JJ asked. "Five." I replied. "Twenty weeks?!" Vik exclaimed. Harry chuckled. "Uh yeah. We kept putting off telling everyone. Before last week only me and y/n knew." He explained. "So you-" Ethan pointed down to my stomach, which was covered by one of Harry's oversized hoodies. I nodded then slowly lifted it over my bump. All six of their eyes flickered from my stomach, to me and then to Harry. "So the other week you-" Tobi began. "I smelt something weird and it made me feel nauseous." I laughed.

Later that night I sat between Harry's legs, my back leaning on his chest. He ran his fingers over my bump as we sat in a comfortable silence. "I think they were a bit shocked that we waited so long to tell everyone." I whispered. Harry smiled, even though I couldn't see him. "I like that we kept it a secret. But it feels good to be able to talk to people about it, since it's like the biggest and best thing that's ever happened to me." He replied quietly. I hummed as my hands traveled to land on top of his. "Want me to run you a warm bath?" He asked. "Only if you join me." I smiled. "I was already planning on it."

[court-jobi]

Reheat

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (support-hero!reader x teacher Izuku)

Words: 2.5k

Rating: G~

Warnings: comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, work stress (livin' vicariously), talks of the future, a few fem pronouns used, but generally gender-neutral

Summary:

Izuku letting himself into your home after a long day has become comfortable background noise, and one you love to hear while you're bogged down. Work has been following you home all week. He's proud of you, without a doubt... But equally concerned when he sees your dinner half-eaten, your mind scatterbrained and racing faster than he can anchor you, and your angel eyes in desperate need of some TLC. He's cemented his place in your heart- and sees no reason he can't make himself at home here already.

A/N: do I have bigger fics in mind? Yes. Did I write this instead of sleeping bc I love soft, encouraging Deku? Also yes. Izuku Midoriya is a motivational speaker.

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“Hey honey! I’m here!”

Over the tinny, background chatter of a podcast streaming from your phone, you call back to Izuku letting himself in.

“Hey you~” You throw interest into your voice, but still stayed tuned into your work.

“Ooo what’s this… What did you make here on the stove?”

“Risotto– it’s Italian~ has lots of veggies and good stuff in it,” you didn’t stop your typing pace, engrossed too heavily in getting an email out before you forget about it and Gmail has to ‘nudge’ you, again, “-gave it a Japanese spin with what I had in the house.”

“Oh wow– oh my gosh, honey– this is so good!”

You look up since your darling man has just appeared in your doorway, sparkly eyed to see you, but equally sated by what’s just graced his mouth. It was a meal you could babysit between taking a quick shower, getting ready for work, letting its flavors marry in the fridge throughout the day, and popping back on the stove that night.

“I’m glad, happy you like it~”

“D’you eat?” Izuku asks, midbite.

“Mhm. Little bit ago,” You motion to your bowl- but when he comes alongside you, he tuts over noting it's only half empty.

“You didn't finish- you feelin’ ok?”

Having circled back onto your screen, you double take again, this time caught by his perception check over you and feeling guilty. 

“Oh. Guess I didn't. I’ll nuke it up here in a bit.”

Izuku, setting down his bowl and starting the -normally alluring- task of rolling up his shirt sleeves to his forearms, comes to your side. However since you’re paying little mind to your peripherals, you missed the show the was making of it. A simple ask of ‘what’re you working on’ came from him, sounding no different than if he wasn't trying to make eyes at you; fact was, you just weren't paying attention.

“Just some stuff for the interns,” the sight of how many tabs are open on your split screen -and in your mind- make you sigh, “With this new role, I kinda feel like you some days. Lesson plans, processing their paperwork; it’s all the stuff you had to turn in as an intern– only now I'm the one dealing with it on the backend.”

Izuku sifted around though your training materials and your propped tablet making itself useful as a second screen. At your handwritten to-do list that’s one of the only things non-digitized nowadays, he makes an offhand comment that your handwriting is nice. It's the kind of cute, ‘blink-and-you’d-miss-it’ things he says that you just hum to, whether you were really listening or not.  

When you glance up to him again, you see he’s watching you with a caring gaze and feel caught.

 “What’re you looking at?” you tease, typing again to break the silence.

“A pretty girl…” Izuku teased lightly, “who doesn’t know when to take a break.”

You type away at his call out– the need for a night off at Izuku’s side is exactly why you've been working so hard at this. You figured you'd get some of this extra prep work under control now, so by the time he rolls around on Wednesday for your standing date n–

You freeze. 

Realizing what day it is in your planner.  It's Wednesday. For dinner.

“Oh my God- -you’re here.”

“Mhmmm~” Izuku really doesn't want to laugh, but his sucking in of a lip isn't hiding it well. 

“ohmygod imtheworst!!” you refresh your face in both hands, talking through the gaps.

“You are not!” Izuku chuckled, setting your notes down. “You just got busy with all the new tasks, because you’re just that good.” 

A faithful, scarred hand comes over to smooth over your back, pulling you over into a little half hug. You sink against him, relishing in his little forehead kiss. He can try all he likes to cure your embarrassment, but you look to him apologetically.

“I’ve never forgotten our dinner dates, ‘Zuku…”

Your darling shrugged unbothered, “Had to happen sometime. It’s no big deal.”

“Is to me,” you pressed- very much bothered.

“Honey,” Izuku chips your chin up, “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s ok, these things happen! I mean, you still made a delicious dinner; even if it was a bit of an oversight I would -in fact- be eating it.”

The pang of guilt hits you at forgetting. This was just a symptomatic sign that the brilliance of your taking on the additional role of Education Coordinator at the agency was perhaps an over-zealous one. Not only to be on-call for your base job as a linguistics quirk specialist, but to balance another full time role on the office hours end? Why did you convince Fatgum this was a good idea? It sounded like a stellar idea back at the beginning of the summer…

Now you’re forgetting not just who you’re supposed to be eating with- but also eating in general.

“I’m glad you did,” you boost Izuku’s elephant-like memory, “It feels so normal to have you here, it's not like I completely forgot I’d see you today. I just– maybe I… thought I was gonna take some to you, since I wouldn't see you till later in the week? I dunno.”

“C’mere- never got a real hug.” 

You rise at his hand’s insistence, and stretch up into his full, healing embrace. 

“Hi baby,” you cooed pitifully.

“Hi, my angel. Missed you today.”

You hummed at the affection, sinking into his neck more out of your residual misery.

Izuku simply took advantage of you being close to sway you in his wide stance- a dance, sans music.

“I appreciate you cooking so much for us,” he spoke gently from his perch over your shoulder, “I was looking forward to it all day, y’know? You’re always so thoughtful with everything you make.”

He’s pressing into you with compliments- against your hard wiring to accept…

“‘Zuku.”

“It’s true~ you’re generous! You remember what my favorites are, and leave out the stuff I don’t like; you even send me leftovers. And you make snacks and treats for when the midnight munchies strike– what can’t you do?”

“Zuku…”

“And you–” he runs a hand through your hair as he sways your shy self back and forth, “-- make for the most funny, beautiful, fascinating, most inspiring company I could ever hope to share a meal with.”

Head thunking onto his shoulder, you playfully land a closed fist on his chest with a muffled, whiny plea for him to stop.

He sighs, all in good humor.

“This streak of yours... I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I? Still can’t imagine how bad it must be in that brilliant mind that my incredible girlfriend has such a hard time accepting the tiniest compliment. Maybe it’s all that late night American comedy you watch...”

You exhale then fix him with your coolest look of sarcasm, anything to show that you have a modicum of having your shit together. So you cope with humor- who doesn't?

–shame that it looks too much like a pout and makes you decidedly not threatening at all, because Izuku just beams brightly at you in response.

“Oh! Now there’s my melty princess- I was wondering where she went.”

And at that, the aloofness was gone, and you snort into a laugh and hug him tighter around the neck. He even scoops you up and gives you one little twirl for good measure. 

When he set you down, Izuku cups your face in his hands and gifts you a few more forehead kisses before demanding your sights. 

“Now. We need to get you to finish eating first. Then, what can I do to help you tonight, hm? How can I make things easier for you?”

With a softer eye to your desk’s work, you sat back down staying connected to your ever doting Izuku by way of your hand in his. You tried again to focus back. You're newly refreshed by his affections and attempt for a more positive outlook, 

“Well, my goal of doing this tonight was so that I didn’t have to go in early tomorrow. Course, if I do run myself ragged tonight, I won't be any good to anyone there– or for you, here. But I think if I pare it down to just getting these e-sigs ready and getting their time-in checklists set up for their work study onboarding, that would give me a good enough start, and I can fill in the rest of their packets tomorrow. But that means I’d need -ugh- maybe… another hour of work tonight?” you looked to him for his approval, “I have a template, so it shouldn’t take me forever.”

“Alright! You’re the boss,” Izuku supported your plan with a smile, “How about I take care of the kitchen for you while you finish up?”

“You do not have to clean my kitchen!” you spouted back, offended– causing a laugh to burst from him, “It’s not funny! I didn’t ask you to come over after a day of work yourself to just slave away at my mess.”

Izuku fixed you a look, as if you knew better. 

“I think I can tidy up a kitchen, no matter how busy of a day I’ve had. Yours isn't even over yet- so when precisely were you going to have the energy to hammer at it? You’ll enjoy not having that mountain waiting for you.”

You huffed, but smiled gratefully all the same. 

“Besides, it’s just me- doing something nice for the woman I love; and I happen to like doing nice things for you. You deserve a clean space, hun.” 

He cleared off your previous bowl to reheat along with your empty water cup. Shaking the hollow straw inside to where it clinks, he knows exactly what you need and tells you so.

“You are getting a screenless break first, though. Something tells me you didn’t the first time around~”

Settled with a fist propping up your face, you swooned over this darling man. 

Trusting Autosave to have done its job, you shut the laptop down blindly, “Sure didn’t~” 

Izuku just rolled his eyes and stepped out of the study. 

You neaten up the collated stack of applications laid out by you and stepped over to the couch, taking a kneeling perch on the end while you sought out a new record for the player on the side table. Setting one on, it was able to fire up and fill some new life into the room with a movie score you haven’t listened to in a while. Everything just sounds better on vinyl.

When Izuku came back in the room, he’d found his houseshoes and returned with renewed interest to your music choice- and with a pleased expression seeing you actually lounging and taking things easier than how he found you. He traded your reheated meal in exchange for your blue-light glasses, which he’d then clean with a pocket square and set back on your desk once they were smudgeless.

“Now, that’s a better sight~ here you go, all set for later.”

You enjoyed Izuku’s company while finishing dinner, listening to him outline his workday while he cradled your legs in his lap. He'd had a pleasantly eventful one, with plenty to say about it. You’d play ‘two truths and a lie’ sometimes when he didn’t want to bore you with a particularly mind-numbing schedule, which pleased you just as well. You excelled at it, while he gave away his fictions every time- a terrible liar for the game, but great for a faithful partner, you reasoned.  You truly loved hearing him talk and talk, your love only growing at the domesticity of this feeling and never wanting that to change. 

Once you were done, you were honestly content to hear him continue his tangent, but it seems his inner discipline was stronger than yours. 

“Alright, now to attack that sink~”

You bemoaned again for his sake. But since you made such a small, affected noise, Izuku paused mid-rise, and sat back down a bit closer to you. He stretched an arm over the back of the couch, encouraging you to come closer and met you for a sweet kiss in the middle.

His mere presence reverted you to a younger self sometimes– one desperate for his attention, good or bad. It wasn't the loveliest impulse, but he clearly thinks it's all part of your charm seeing as he gives in every time, anyway.

“Thing is,” Izuku spoke softly while adoring the hand now placed in his, “If things keep going the way I think they’re going -the way I hope they’re going- it’s.. not hard to imagine that there’s gonna be both our dishes to clean up all the time. In our kitchen, in our home someday. So this is just practice, right? Seems perfectly normal to me. How it should be.”

That idea bloomed in your chest, the thought of sharing a home with him- where this exchange of chores and time together could be your new normal. Only it would be a future where he didn’t have to leave at the end of the night and go back to a bed with compact, collegiate-designed storage at the campus accommodations he stays in on the instructor's wing. He’s got enough to get him by, but he noticeably prefers your home here closer to downtown.

“And what happens when we both wanna ditch the dishes?” you countered sweetly.

Izuku smirked, “That’s what a dishwasher is for. Another thing we’d own together…”

“Forward thinking, there.” You relished that idea. 

Izuku nuzzled your forehead thoughtfully. 

“You’ve been doing things on your own for a long time– and it shows, sweetheart.”

His words came carefully, from a tender place spoken in confidence between you, referring to when you’ve spent other late nights like this one fueled with hot tea and a desire to keep ignoring the clock.

“And I know you’ve been used to that since you’ve been traveling so much, not even having roommates to help keep you company or lighten the load. I keep wishing I could have known you sooner, had more time with you before you had to learn some of those things the hard way… but I’m happy I get the chance to, now. I’m here now, and you’re not alone, so I hope you’ll let me take care of you when I can.”

With another happy sigh forcing your eyes shut, the mental will it took to not let the tears of a perpetual eldest daughter leave you was intense.

Izuku Midoriya never failed to hit the nail on the head when it came to pep talks; he does the same with his students. But why his ones aimed at you had to have a Full Cowling dash of heartfelt anecdotes in it, you don't know. But you're grateful. You're so grateful for him. 

“If you don’t quit talkin’ like that, Izuku, I will never let you leave this condo.”

He chuckled again, lifting your cheek for another kiss, “Twist my arm, love.”

Ultimately, he rose to quit distracting you, but not without you watching him leave with a hunger you’d never felt for another soul before. 

[sunkendreams]

Ok hear me out bc this has been in my mind for a minute. Lester secretly toying and touching reader in the truck while someone is standing outside the truck, be it Bo, some potential victim I just feel like he is the type

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), public sex, risky location, vaginal fingering, fingering (f!feceiving), fingerfucking, spit as lube, dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, very mild coercion, lester is a bit of a pervert, bo sinclair cameo, obsessive/slightly creepy behavior from lester

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: listen ,,, you were onto something incredible when you requested this, this was so hot to write you don’t understand !!! lester is criminally underrated aaaaand this was so much hornier than I thought it’d be !! hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

TAGLIST: @freyjasfenrir ; @darklylucid ; @chaotichellscape ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth ; @nastymensimp

Summertime in Louisiana was akin to setting fire in a desert — humidity on top of an acrid, stifling heat. You didn’t have a clue as to why your friends dragged you all the way out here under the false pretense of a camping trip. In all actuality, they wanted to visit this town that wasn’t listed on any map — Ambrose.

The journey itself was treacherous, going through thick, endless woodlands, marshlands, and bogs before coming towards the town. It was just around the bend, a large chunk of the road missing, now consumed by swampwater, jagged rocks, and erosion. Your friend was confident that he could maneuver his truck through it — boy, was he wrong.

“It won’t make it,” Josie chimed, standing beside you as the both of you watched a pair of young men attempt to push the truck through the wash. The truck unceremoniously came to a grinding, screeching halt, tires partially buried within the mud. “Idiots.”

You kept quiet, idly smoothing your palms across the little, floral sundress you wore. You certainly weren’t dressed for camping — you had no interest. Going to Ambrose was supposed to be a ‘day out on the town’, with your desire being to look at small shops and simply enjoy the atmosphere.

“Maybe we should call somebody,” You piped up, nervously wringing your hands together. “There has to be a tow truck around, you think?” Anxiousness blossomed within the pit of your stomach, giving you a feeling of uncertainty. You wished that they would’ve just listened and tried to drive around it.

“Cut the shit, we don’t need a tow truck.” Josie’s boyfriend, Tate, growled in protest. Admittedly, you had no idea why you were out here in the staggering heat with these three. Tate and Josie had been your friends since high school, but Cody, the third boy, was simply here out of devotion to Josie. You were confident that there was something else going on.

Josie shot you an apologetic glance, but you had enough of watching them push at a truck that wasn’t moving anywhere whatsoever. With a begrudging sigh, you started down the dirt path in the direction of Ambrose, carefully stepping across rocks to avoid caking your boots in a layer of viscous mud.

“Where are you going?” Josie called out, and you simply waved your hand at her, dismissive of her concerns. You were sick and tired of being around the trio, anyway. A walk and a bit of fresh air would do you a world of good.

“Going to town to find somebody.” You replied, and continued walking, crossbody purse slung over your frame as you made the short trek into town. It seemed exceptionally lively — plenty of stores, the chattering ambiance of a quaint neighborhood, and vintage, neon signs that pointed you toward your destination.

You were delighted to discover the gas station and mechanic shop, which already seemed to be inhabited by someone. An old, beat-up pickup truck sat by the gas pumps, back of the bed shoddily cleaned-out, save for a few remnants of roadkill and animal bones. There was an ‘L. S.’ carved into the worn metal above the back wheel, which you curiously traced your fingers over.

The hot sun blistered down upon you, making it stifling due to the now-faded asphalt you stood upon. You quickly ducked underneath the shaded cover of the gas station, almost colliding into someone when you rounded the front of the truck.

“Oh!” You gasped, chest tight with a momentary lapse of fear. “I’m so sorry!” The energy you carried was akin to that of a nervous nelly, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. You felt horrible for running into some innocent bystander — the owner of the truck, you figured.

You were met with the skeptical, hazel-eyed gaze of a man who reminded you of a possum. Rugged, scraggly, and clearly meant for the woodlands. He straightened his hat out, head cocking to one side when he peered down at you — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugar! Guess I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, neither.”

His voice bore that native Southern dialect, but he didn’t sound hostile whatsoever. When you finally got a good look at him, he seemed scrappy — maybe he lived in Ambrose. A large buck knife was holstered to his hip, neck adorned in a series of chokers and necklaces, decorated in some sort of animal bone.

“Say, what’cha doin’ ‘round here, anyway?” He inquired, leaning against the door of his truck. “Y’look a little lost.” His tone remained friendly, high-spirited, even. He was somewhat grimy, covered in a layer of dewy perspiration, wiping his hands off on a damp cloth.

“My friends and I were coming up here to visit the town, but our truck got stuck in that patch of marsh just around the bend,” You sighed, somewhat agitated with the whole scenario. If they would’ve listened to you, the truck would be just fine and not tire-deep in the mud. “I was just looking for some help.”

There was a sparkling in his eyes, a peculiar glittering that intrigued you to no end. A chuckle escaped him, finding humor in the situation. “They should’a jus’ drove ‘round.” He mused, and you had to laugh, even if it was a bitter sound. You kept your hands tucked together, idly fiddling with the strap of your purse.

Your expression was somewhat amused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “That’s what I said,” You sighed, happy to be away from the oppressive glare of the midday sun. “Either way, we’re stuck. Do you know if there’s a tow truck around here, or someone who could help?” You asked.

He grinned — a toothy, wolfish grin. Lester wasn’t blessed with Bo’s natural handsomeness, but he certainly had the personality to offset it all. He liked that you smiled and laughed along with him, didn’t treat him like backwoods trash, either. “M’brother’s got a tow truck! Bet he’d help ya out! Why don’t I give ‘im a call?”

Finally — your savior.

Relief rippled through you as you nodded several times over, rifling through your purse to unveil a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” You insisted. “For the call and for your help. I can’t thank you enough.” You nodded, but the man simply pushed your hand away.

Being around you was a reward in itself — and once his brothers took care of your friends, you would be his prize in all of this. He couldn’t have been any happier with how all of this was progressing. Lester opened up the driver’s side door, grabbing a rather shoddy-looking flip-phone. He was still trying to figure these things out.

One call to Bo later, and his older brother was coming out with the tow-truck and all of that oozing charm, like a shepherd leading the flock to the slaughter. Lester insisted that he keep you out of it — you were sweet, he could tell.

He liked that.

“He’s on his way,” Lester chimed, swiveling around to face you again. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “M’Lester, by th’way! It’s real nice to meet you, sugar. Say, if you’re bakin’ in the sun, could sit in m’truck with me while the rest do the heavy liftin’.” The offer was absolutely tempting to you.

You reached out, introducing yourself with a charming grin and another burst of bubbly laughter. “It’s nice to meet you, Lester. Thank you so much for all of your help, again. You’re an angel.” He was very kind and upbeat — Jesus, you even found him to be cute. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Lester grinned again, completely and utterly enamored with you as he waved a hand towards the truck. “I’m real sure, promise! Don’t want that pretty little face of yours t’melt right off. You can sit with me while Bo works his magic.” He insisted, opening up the door as a sign of invitation.

A pleasant wave of heat flooded throughout your body — and while you thought it was from the weather, it was from Lester’s subtle flirtation. You couldn’t help but giggle, nose wrinkling in amusement as you climbed up into his truck. Lester stood behind you, shamelessly admiring the way your dress fit you, from lovely curves to the faintest glimpse of your thighs.

As you crawled into the cabin, you noticed the morbid array of bone and rope dangling from the top mirror. The inside smelled of stale blood, damp dirt, and the faint scent of cigarettes. You folded one leg over the other, swiping away a thin layer of sweat that built up along the back of your neck.

A tow truck came soaring down the road, rickety and beat-up. The driver wore a mechanic’s uniform and a ball cap — you assumed it was Bo, the man Lester was referring to. “M’gonna drive us back down to the bend. No reason for you t’walk.” He mused, hopping in beside you as he started the engine.

The truck roared to life, and Lester maneuvered the vehicle out of the gas station, whipping it back around to approach the swampy wash where your caravan had gotten stuck at.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” You asked, head canting to one side. You leaned up against the door, palm tucked underneath your chin. Whenever you weren’t looking, you were completely oblivious to Lester’s constant ogling of your body.

He kept one hand perched atop the patchwork, leather-covered steering wheel, the other resting along the edge of the window. “Mostly,” Lester piped up, letting out a low whistle. “Ambrose ain’t on the map. Hard for anybody to come out this way without lookin’ real close.” He replied, truck slugging along at a crawl.

“It’s pretty out here,” You hummed, tracing a finger along the dashboard, collecting a layer of dust in the process. “I wouldn’t want to leave. You’ve got everything you need here in town. It’s peaceful.” When you adjusted your position, your dress hitched just a little higher.

“Yer welcome t’stay, if y’like it so much.” Lester mused, which got you to laugh. As tempting as it sounded, nestled away within the Louisiana wilderness, you knew that your friends would go against it. “They even got a beauty pageant, Miss Ambrose.”

Intrigued, you cocked your head to one side, letting out another giggle as you peered outside towards the forests. “A beauty pageant? I’ve never done one of those before. I’m sure I’d have plenty of competition.” You sighed, idly fiddling with the hem of your sundress. The jean jacket you were wearing over it only made you nearly collapse from heatstroke.

Lester grinned, a playful chuckle escaping him. “Naw, I think you’d win th’whole thing.” He was really laying on the compliments and old-fashioned charm, driving the truck down the path and around the bend. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen ‘round here!” Singing your praises was one way to get you flustered.

This was the last thing you ever expected, being hit on by a rugged stranger you’d just met. Nevertheless, the attention you were receiving was amazing, something you weren’t used to. “You’re really sweet.” You accepted the compliment without retort, idly preening your fingers over the top of your head.

By the time you’d gotten back to the wash, Lester’s brother was sitting in the cab of the tow-truck, attempting to haul the other vehicle out of the mud. You waved at your friend from the window as he put it into park, letting it idle. Josie and Tate happened to use it as something to lean on, but Lester didn’t say anything to protest.

“Ain’t you jus’ gorgeous?” Lester crooned, pinching the hem of your dress between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt abnormally hot, like a fever as you shifted in your seat, visibly sheepish to the man’s seemingly harmless flirting. “Real nice dress, too.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, ducking your head as his knuckles innocently brushed over the top of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing you to shiver as you averted your gaze. “Maybe I should get out and see if everything’s okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Lester cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with something indiscernible. The rough, calloused pads of his fingertips traced over your thigh. “Y’sure, sugar? I was thinkin’ you could stay here with me,” He mused, lips spitting into a toothy smirk. “Could make it worth yer while.” His voice was sickly-sweet, like honey.

Something hung heavy in the air — suffocating heat coupled with the flurry of tension crackling within the cab of Lester’s truck. Admittedly, you were more aroused than you should’ve been, given how forward and crass this was, but there was certainly a thrill in it.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stealing another glance outside the window. Your friends were just outside of the truck — if you made too much noise or squirmed, they would notice. “What if somebody sees?” You whimpered, feeling a rush of oozing warmth coalesce between your thighs.

“Looks you’ll have t’be real quiet,” Lester hummed, hand prodding at your dress again. “Why don’t you go on an’ lift that up for me, gorgeous?” You shouldn’t have been this riled up and turned on for a complete stranger, but he was tempting — maybe it was his kind demeanor coupled with lust. You weren’t sure.

A fluttering sensation erupted throughout the pit of your stomach, prompting you to shift your thighs together as you began to shyly tug your dress up. Lester had subtly shifted closer, shorter than an arm’s length distance as you let some of the fabric pool around your hips.

There was some sick thrill you got with this, buried deep down — in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been entertaining this, but Lester seemed more than willing. You glanced toward the window, breath hitching when Josie glanced back at you with a puzzled expression.

To quell her concern, you swiftly gave her a thumbs-up, perspiration creeping along your spine as you subtly shifted a little closer to your new friend. His soft snickering filled the cab, calloused palm gingerly kneading into your thigh.

“Nice n’soft,” Lester mumbled, Southern drawl dropping to a hushed octave. “Y’feel like velvet.” His compliment made you shiver with anticipation, legs parting as you shyly began to ruck the skirt of your dress up. He leaned in, giving your hair a sniff — you smelled sweet, like a fresh bouquet of honeyed flowers.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, angling yourself a little more in his direction, enough to remain inconspicuous. Lester traced his hand along your thigh, drinking in the feeling of your velveteen complexion underneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you sluggishly placed your hand atop his, guiding it toward the heat coalescing between your legs. Lester appeared surprised, cracking another bemused grin as you let his fingers settle along the waistband of your panties. You were desperate, wriggling atop the sticky leather beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the seat, chest tight with a familiar fluttering once his fingers finally crossed the threshold, slipping beneath the thin, cotton material. He nudged your legs further apart, deliberately stroking at your cunt, toying with you just a little bit. “D’aw,” He crooned. “That all fer me?”

Part of you wanted to simply melt into a pile of nothingness, lips parted as a sweet moan escaped you. His touches were tantalizing, feather-light and leaving you aching for more. “Y—Yeah,” You sighed, keeping your voice low as Lester pushed past your folds, two digits beginning to glide against your cunt. “Keep going.” You mewled.

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

Admittedly, once he saw you, that beautiful beam of sunshine, he had to have you — he wanted to keep you for himself, too. Your willingness to let him touch you made you all the more tempting, something to be coveted, worshiped. Lester would do it all for you if you’d let him.

Quietly, he obeyed your breathy command, ministrations becoming more vigorous. His fingers were erratic and choppy, sloppily sliding across your cunt with a fervor. You didn’t care, lulled into submission by the myriad of sensations, pleasure rippling throughout your stomach.

Your gaze occasionally flickered toward the outside of the truck, but your worry of getting caught was steadily subsiding. Lester’s calloused digits glided along your slit, moving up until they found that clutch of sensitive nerves buried between your thighs. His thumb sluggishly circled your clit, causing your hips to jolt forward.

“S’at feel nice?” His drawl had dropped into a husked purr, voice wrought with desperation. Lester liked having this level of control over you, but he enjoyed seeing your reactions even more. Embarrassment washed through you, knowing how insane this scenario seemed.

A sweet whimper tore past your lips, and you nodded your head, attempting to keep the gesture subtle. You wanted more, shifting your thighs together to relieve some tension until Lester prodded you with his knee. He began to rub at your clit, prompting you to press the back of your hand over your mouth.

Lester snickered, swatting your hand away. “Don’t keep those sounds from me, sugar. You’re jus’ so pretty like this.” He murmured, causing you to bite at your lower lip. Your thighs shook, cunt throbbing and oozing with liquid heat as he continued to touch you.

There was a thump against the front of the truck, nearly making you leap out of your own flesh, hastily covering your lap with your jean jacket. It was just Cody, huffing and puffing as Lester’s brother continued to try and pull the truck out of the mud.

“W—We should probably stop,” You whimpered, voice low and hushed, attempting to grab at his wrist, but Lester stopped you. “Lester, please.” The terror of being caught outweighed pleasure, but he shushed you, tugging you just a little closer, until you were nearly leg-to-leg in the cab.

“Jus’ keep quiet, sweetheart. They ain’t gonna catch us, swear.” He reassured you, coercing you into a more docile state — admittedly, he really wanted to make you cum on his fingers. Lester was hellbent to receive that from you, whether you protested or not.

As much as your mind screamed at you to stop, you wanted to keep going. You nodded, still keeping the jacket tucked within your lap, but Lester nudged it aside, wanting to watch everything. Your dress was all disheveled and ruffled around your hips, panties halfway down your thighs.

You began to squirm, hips jolting and spasming into the sensation of his hand, nails digging into the old, cracked leather of the truck’s frayed cushions. Your mind stopped worrying so much, submitting to basic desire and instinct, letting pleasure hold the reins as he flicked his thumb around your clit.

Honey-sweet arousal pooled between your legs, coating Lester’s digits in a fine sheen. You almost pleaded for him to come back when he withdrew his hand, watching with complete and utter shock as he licked his fingers, saturated in saliva. The noises he made were crass and somewhat lewd. “Taste jus’as good as y’look.” He murmured.

A molten wave of heat dropped right into the pit of your stomach, prompting you to whimper as his fingers hotly returned to your core. He was vigorous this time, using those spittle-slathered digits to invade your cunt, pushing two fingers inside of you as he began to piston them in and out. His rhythm was intense, and you nearly clamped your thighs together.

Your limbs felt heavy, weighed-down by the waves of ecstasy that consume you, as if dragging you down to the bottom of an ocean. You can barely distinguish what’s happening outside of the truck — you don’t care anymore, either.

This stranger fingerfucking you in his cab is all you can concentrate on.

Another soft, throaty moan escaped you, tearing past your parted lips as you rolled your hips sporadically, in-tandem with the motion of his fingers. They pushed inward, nearly knuckle-deep inside of your cunt before dragging out halfway, only to ram right back in. You sighed, pleasure scrawled all over your face.

Lester kept a watchful eye out, knowing that Bo would take his sweet time, damage your friend’s truck in the process. He was happy to have snatched you up when he did, gaze flickering toward you. Your body was contorted with delight, a glistening sheen of perspiration shimmering along your collarbone.

Tension crackled through the air, and you were none the wiser to Lester’s little plot to keep you. His thumb toyed and circled your clit, pouring fuel on the fire as your hips bucked forward again. “M’close,” You whimpered through the dizzying carnality, knuckles tense and tight as you clawed at the seat. “Oh, Lester! S—Shit, please don’t stop!” You squeaked.

He was enthralled, as if trained to obey your every wish. He didn’t slow down, keeping the same pace, fingers scissoring in and out of your weeping cunt. The thick scent of arousal hung heavy in the cab, intermingled with that of fresh earth and a coppery twang from the blood of roadkill, baking away in the back of the truck.

The thin straps of your pretty dress began to sag upon your shoulders, giving way to the faintest glimpse of your breast. If it weren’t for the oblivious audience outside of the truck, Lester would’ve been sucking on your chest. Instead, he settled for a brief peek of your heaving tits, and nothing more.

When the truck rattled, you barely paid it any mind — just your friends sagging against it. Lester snickered, opting to add a third finger, if it were a possibility. “Can y’handle another, sugar? Yer almost there.” He whispered, and when your friend began to step back towards the passenger door for shade, your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Again, Lester silenced your worry with the softest coos and gentle shushes, thumb working away at your clit as he attempted to wriggle a third digit inside of you. You were all wound up, chasing after your orgasm as you turned your face away, skin feverishly hot, as if you’d been scorched by the Louisiana sunshine.

As soon as Lester’s fingers rocked into your cunt for the umpteenth time, curling just slightly, you were gone — wasting away in a white-hot explosion. The tension within your stomach unfurled as you coated his digits in your slick nectar, huffing and puffing as you attempted to compose yourself.

“Lester, Lester,” The breathy, hushed way in which you whimpered his name made him want to devour you. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his fingers as he withdrew them, watching the tension unfurl from your body. You looked embarrassed and downright flustered, having made a mess of his seat. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lester cajoled, grinning a toothy, bemused smile as he began to lick his fingers clean. “Don’t gotta apologize none for that. Jus’ do it again sometime.” He teased, watching as you hastily covered your lap with your jean jacket when your friend thumped a hand against the window.

“Hey, we’re going up to this guy’s house. He said he has a tire that we can borrow, one on the truck is flat. Are you coming?” Josie asked, ogling Lester with skepticism and a high degree of disgust, too.

You gasped, heart pounding erratically in your chest. As you opened your mouth to answer, Lester interjected on your behalf.

“Yer friend here is goin’ through a bad wave of heatstroke. I’m gonna drive ‘er back t’my place an’ get her some water. It’s a cabin ‘long the path, you can’t miss it.” Lester confirmed, but Josie looked at you for an answer instead.

You nodded several times over, mustering up a smile after having experienced one of the best highs of your life. Pretending that you hadn’t let him touch you just moments ago made you feel strange. “I’ll be alright, Josie. You guys can meet me at his place once the truck is all fixed up.”

Josie nodded and reluctantly moved away from the window, joining Tate and Cody as the three of them followed Bo towards the tow truck. You were impervious and oblivious to the fact that this would be the last time you would ever see your friends alive.

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

He started the truck again, peering toward you with a twinkle in his eye — it wasn’t the same high-spirited, innocuous man you’d encountered at the gas station. This gleam was different — obsessive, possessive, and absolutely enamored with you.

“Why don’t we see what we can do about this heatstroke of yours, sugar?”

[werecreature-addicted]

to the anon asking about the large amount of sex-trafficking/rape prompts/stories/blurbs, im going to try and give you a real answer

one major factor, is shame

it's a largely subconscious thing, the fact people's sexual fantasies lean toward this aggressive often dehumanizing scenarios.

but its something that has been observed in people raised with very strict social expectations regarding sexuality often having rape fantasies, because it is a way to indulge in their sexual feelings without having to admit to them, in a way.

i, personally, am fat and queer. and while never stated outright to my face, the fact that small children have on several occasions began crying while looking at me in the supermarket line, I would also have to assume im not that much of a looker either

any show of desires for intimacy, physical or emotional, has been laughed at. people asked me out as a joke when i was in school, my father's side of the family openly lamented my appearance since I was a child because my only real value to them was continuing the family line, and that's not going to happen if I'm unattractive and fat

the fact is I have been told my entire life that me being wanted was impossible, if anybody desired me they would keep it a secret out of fear of ridicule, and anybody who would be open about it must have a specific fetish or be using me

I want to be wanted, hell there are times I'm desperate to get catcalled, because that proves somebody finds me attractive enough to express that. (even if the reality of it is objectifying and rude) the basis of these sorts of fantasies are often rooted in being seen as so desirable, so wanted, that any and all restraint goes out of the window. (you know that romance trope line that's like, "are you sure? because once we start i don't know if i can stop." same idea) the tendency towards trafficking and sexual slavery are also rooted in this, but with the added bit of "see, somebody wants me so bad they will spend money on me, to own me. they will fuck me in a crowded room without shame because their desire for me isn't something they're ashamed about, i am a prize, and the fact they get to fuck me is something they will gloat about."

one of the major appeal of monsters is that they wouldn't be bogged down by our social expectations, or they would have ones of their own. there is no fear regarding being wanted despite my looks, because the things about myself I have been told make me unattractive, are things that they openly and voraciously desire. Also, for the fat folks in the chat, wanting to be picked up and tossed around by your partner is largely something we can't have, (BMI is bullshit but mine is nearly double what it "should" be) you don't have to worry about that if your partner is an 8+ foot tall creature that can suplex a sedan

so while in reality, me being stocky and fat is seen as something that makes me unattractive, a werewolf would look at me and go "ah, yes, broad as a brick wall and twice as thicc, he can take it in a tumble."

can you see where the overlap occurs?

obviously there are some generalizations and assumptions based on my own biases here, and everybody's got their peculiarities, but these are themes I have seen throughout my many years too many online

I also just think monster fucker spaces are a little more open to taboo kinks. like wanting to fuck a werewolf who could kill you at any second is already weirder than most people want to go. thank you for sharing your perspective anon.

[midnight-bay-if]

Hello!! How would the Ro's react to Mc kissing their cheek for the first time cause they saw the ROs had a bad day and wanted to cheer them up?

S: They're embarrassed. They shyly avoid your gaze as they process the kiss. When you explain it looked like they were having a bad day and you hoped it would serve as a little pick-me-up, they're even more embarrassed. S isn't used to letting anyone see when they're struggling. They're often bogging themselves down with paperwork, tactics, and plans, as well as having the team's safety resting solely on their shoulders... The idea of being transparent to you is frightening but also... freeing.

"Thank you, MC. For seeing me."

Rain: They love it. After a rough day of doing a million things they don't want to do, they usually spend some time alone. Away from S. Away from Taj. Rain loves them but often feels responsible for keeping the team emotionally afloat. So, when they feel the tepid touch of your lips on their cheek, their heart jumps inside their chest.

"Wait, could you... Would you do it again? I want to keep this feeling for a while."

Taj: Depending on how your relationship has developed, this could go either way. If Taj is still being combative with you, they could push your face away in retaliation. They've already had a bad day. Why are you getting this close?! They're embarrassed they let you see they needed comfort.

However, if your relationship has developed to mutual teasing, they will smile—just a tiny smirk—just for a moment. Then, it's gone. "Ew, gross," they spit out, their eyes are glistening. "I've probably caught some human disease or something now."

N: They're going to tease you. They can't help it. Sincerity isn't a language they speak well, so it's much easier to reach between the lines. "What was that for, my dear?"

When you explain that they looked like they were having a bad day and you thought it might cheer them up, the teasing grows. "You must have a very high opinion of yourself then, my dear," they joke with a pleased smile. "It would take much more than that to cheer me up. I can give you a few suggestions if you like."

Umbra: They didn't think it was possible, but their affection for you blossoms even further. Bad days greet Umbra like an old friend. So much so they never learned to wear them on their face. Expressing any emotion is a difficulty. But there you are, leaning over, pressing a kiss to their cheek because you noticed they weren't doing well. You noticed.

It happened so quick. Typically, they would have pulled away, their aversion to touch too strong. But you didn't flinch. You didn't scrunch your face up in disgust. You're... smiling. You explain why, and it makes their eyes wet. "Please stay close to me, MC... Just for now. I won't ask for more."

(Thanks for the ask! I think I got a bit carried away, lol.)

[thebiggerbear]

I want better for you...what's better for you than me? Part 1

Part 1 Summary: You've had a tough day. From an unruly client who is causing chaos to your dog not listening to you to your ex-husband calling you out of the blue. You've had more than enough and the last thing you need right now is any reminders of why you feel such regret and pain in the first place.

A/N: I was working on something with the Kim vs Kanye special thing playing in the background. Some things they discussed about that situation just struck a chord with me and before I knew it, this kind of came flying out onto a doc in the form of a little catharsis in a fictional story I guess. 🤷‍♀️

All unbeta'd.

Songs listened to while writing: Hummingbird - Carly Pearce; None Of Your Concern - Jhené Aiko

Warnings: heavy angst; mentions of cheating; drinking; language; a healthy dose of snarkiness

Word Count: 5596

Series Masterlist

dividers by @cafekitsune

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You had just managed to get in the front door, a feat that a moment ago you didn’t think would be possible. You were bogged down with grocery bags, dry cleaning, and the bulkload of mail that would most likely turn out to be eighty five percent bills. Despite being set up to auto-pay everything, you still received a healthy stream of bills in your mailbox every week. You didn’t get it. 

So you had already been carrying a heavy load while you managed to stick your latest Amazon package under your arm and the straps of your handbag and briefcase were on the other. Not to mention your dog was urging you to open the door after peeing on your lawn for the fifth time this week and he ignored your pleas for him not to. Somehow you did all of that and still got your key in the door. Milo, being the young spry German Shepherd pup he was, naturally almost mowed you down in his rush to get inside before you, but you survived the canine tornado and still stood strong. You weren’t patting yourself on the back but you definitely deserved some kudos. You had always been laughed at in the past for attempting to do all of this in one shot without any assistance, but you proved you could. Every single time. Considering you now had an eager and energetic four-legged companion who lacked patience (and a tiny bit of discipline if you were being honest) to contend with, kudos were definitely in order.

You slowly put down the grocery bags and package, laying the dry cleaning on your thin table in the foyer, dropping your keys and mail into the giant bowl on a shelf underneath, and placed your other bags to the side of the structure. You heaved a giant sigh of relief and turned to close the door, wincing when Milo barked from the living room. “Hush, Milo. Give me a minute to breathe, please.”

The second you secured the lock, you sank tiredly against the door. You were home and now you could begin to relax. It had been a long day and you were looking forward to changing into something more comfortable and starting the process of unwinding. And as if the universe wanted to foil that plan, your cell phone rang on cue.

“No,” you whined, placing your forehead against the wood of the door for a moment. “What is it now?”

One of your clients had the brilliant idea of doing an impromptu live stream in the wee hours of the morning to discuss their upcoming divorce, in full detail, in a bid to get their estranged spouse back. As a result, your phone had not stopped ringing since 4:02 this morning and you had done your best to do damage control. It didn’t help that this particular client had 20.4 million Instagram followers and the mainstream media alongside TMZ had already picked up the story by the time you were woken from a sound sleep to a panicked phone call from one of your client’s managers. A press conference had taken place a few hours later and of course, you were front and center, which you absolutely hated but had no choice in. So, today was not a good day by any means and you desperately needed some recharging time.

You huffed out an aggravated breath and spun on your heel, digging through your handbag to grab your cell. When you saw the name on the screen, you tensed up. Oh, your day was going to get even better apparently. Why hadn’t you just called out sick today and stayed in bed? Content to hide under the covers and pretend the world wasn’t exploding around you again? Because that worked so well for you last time. You pressed your lips together at the snarky thought. Shut up, brain. 

Deciding that it was best just to see what he wanted and to get it over with, you swiped green and put the phone to your ear, forcing yourself to give a cordial greeting. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“I know.” You grabbed the dry cleaning and turned towards the hall closet. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to…” You heard someone talking in the background and it made you freeze. Was that who you thought it was? Sure enough, he spoke again in a quieter tone. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“How do you think I’m doing?” You snapped as you shoved the hook onto the bar and slammed the closet door shut, smirking in satisfaction when the sound echoed throughout the foyer. You knew he had heard that. “Is that her? Are you really calling me right now while she’s in the room?”

“What? No.” His voice always went an octave higher near the end of a sentence when he was nervous. “No, of course not.” You could hear the sounds of the person talking in the background fading as he presumably moved away from them. “No, Y/N, that’s someone from my team. We had a meeting and we’re taking a break.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” you hissed, picking up the grocery bags and moving towards the kitchen.

“It is.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, pulling packages of ground beef and raw steaks out and placing them in the refrigerator and freezer respectively. “I should expect nothing less.”

A sigh came down the line. “Y/N, I told you, I didn’t—”

“What did you call me for? I’m pretty sure I made it clear the last time we saw each other that I never wanted to hear from you again.”

Silence reigned for a moment while you continued putting your groceries away. Perhaps that was cruel but it was nothing but the truth. You had told your soon-to-be ex-husband that when he tried to speak to you outside the conference room as you and your lawyer attempted to leave the contentious meeting that hadn’t brought about any resolution. You were both trying to avoid going to court, wanting to settle this as soon as possible, but his lawyers were intent on playing hardball. Which was oh-so-hilarious considering he made more money in a single month than you did a year. And he had sat back, letting them, as he kept glistening green eyes fixated on you, urging you to look at him which you did not. When you told him you wanted nothing more to do with him, he appeared stricken and you felt sick seeing it, not just because you said what you’d said but also because you had meant it. You had trusted him, let him come in and sweep you off your feet though you kept insisting you didn’t want anything romantic to develop between you, but he had pushed for a relationship, you ended up giving in, and then he had crushed you underneath his boot heel without a second thought. He had told you he loved you over and over again, touched you as if he truly meant it, and then stabbed you right in the back. Just like your friends and everyone you knew who had a brain had warned you he would.

“I saw the press conference and I guess I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he quietly admitted.

You couldn’t help but flinch. Great, he had seen you artlessly dodge the question about your own divorce and the catalyst behind it. And if he saw it, then that meant so did she. Great, just great.

“I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. So thanks for checking in but not necessary. Go back to your meeting and have a great rest of your day. Great rest of your life really. Ciao.” You were about to end the call when you heard him speaking suddenly.

“Don’t hang up. Y/N! Please. Can we just talk for one freaking second? Please.”

You flipped the call over to speakerphone and placed the device on the counter, crossing your arms and waiting. Sometimes it was truly hard to believe that you had been so in love with this man that you had shared a life with him once. That you had smiled when he would call you, that you had craved to hear his voice even. And now…now you had a knot in your stomach the size of Texas and you despised the owner of said voice.

When he didn’t say anything after a minute, you prompted him. “Well?”

“Please, can we just talk? You know, like we used to. We were friends once, weren’t we?”

You took two steps forward and bent at the waist to make sure your voice was as close as possible to the phone. “Like we’re friends? Are you for real? And let me just tell you that if you’re calling me to talk about your new relationship, you’d better think again. I will hang up and I will immediately contact my attorney and seek a no contact order.”

“What new relationship? I’m not in any relationship.” 

“Fuck buddies, then. I don’t care what you call it.”

“That’s not—” He let out a groan of frustration. “Nothing happened, Y/N. Nothing. I keep trying to tell you that but you won’t listen!”

“Oh, so those photos and videos were just doctored then? Someone used PhotoShop or AI, right? All 62 people at the scene? They’re all lying? That’s what you’re telling me?”

You heard another sigh, this one sounding heavier, a mixture of exhaustion and defeat. “No, I’m not saying that. But I am saying that nothing—”

“Then we have nothing more to talk about.” 

You were about to hang up when he pleaded again for you not to. “Would you please just listen to me for a second? I know I screwed up, I do. But nothing happened between me and her. I swear.”

“So the interview she gave to Vanity Fair where she implied how close you two were and the sources that told US Weekly about your incredibly passionate weekend in Rome last year when I couldn’t make the trip — with full detail of your very public displays of affection I might add — that was all a lie?”

“I never had a passionate weekend with her, Y/N. I called you that night, because I knew you would still be up working that case. We even—” He suddenly lowered his voice a little. “We even were intimate if you remember.”

Just when you thought all of this couldn’t hurt you anymore, that you shed every single tear your body was capable of creating, that your heart could no longer break because it was a pile of dust somewhere in this house, you felt the resurgence of a pain that you wished you didn’t know existed. A pain that stabbed into you over and over again, forcing you to feel every fresh wound along with old ones, nearly overwhelming you and making you feel like you would never get away from it. You remembered the night he was talking about all too well.

“No, that was the previous year. It was our anniversary,” you choked out, the age old lump forming once again in your throat. One you swore you wouldn’t allow back.

“What? No. Baby, I’m sorry but you’re wrong. It was that same night, I’m telling you. I know it was because I left the restaurant early to go back to my room so I could call you. I even texted you on the way there. I know I did.”

You closed your eyes as the pain washed over you once more. If you weren’t about to break for the thousandth time since this whole thing started, you would have reminded him what you’d told him when you’d agreed to date him. Never lie to a lawyer about anything because they will find out. He had simply smiled, told you that neither of you would ever have to worry about that, and leaned in to kiss you. If you didn’t feel a sudden burning in the corner of your eyes, you also would have reminded him that he had tried to tell you this story once before and you had easily debunked it. And he had the nerve to speak to you like that as he lied to you once again, as if you were still happily married? As if he had the right to call you baby? No, this was too much.

“I’m hanging up now,” you forced out.

“Honey, please. Can’t we just talk this out? I know I fucked up but I promise I didn’t—”

“Don’t call me again. If you need something in the future, have your lawyer contact mine.”

“Y/N, wait! Baby, please just—”    

You disconnected the call, took a deep breath, and went back to your task. Your phone immediately started ringing again and seeing your ex’s name once more, you pushed the call to voicemail and then turned your phone off. You had enough for today; you deserved some quiet time. And the last thing you wanted to deal with was the cause of the void sitting inside your chest where your heart used to be. Though that empty space didn’t seem to prevent the tidal wave of pain you were currently under. You continued taking deep breaths until you felt you had yourself fully under control and there was no longer any threat of you breaking down in sobs.

You heard the clicking of nails on the tile and turned around to see Milo sitting down, watching you intently and letting out a whine. 

“Don’t you dare take his side,” you whispered, afraid if you spoke any louder that you might finally shatter into a thousand pieces after everything today. You were already going to be indulging in a liquid dinner as it was. Alcohol would be the only thing your stomach would be able to handle right now. “He left us, remember?”

The dog simply tilted his head in response and you snorted. “Right, I keep forgetting. All dogs stick together, don’t they?” He didn’t understand your snarky comment and he just continued watching you, not making a sound. It reminded you too much of your husband for some reason, giving you those infamous sad puppy dog eyes of his as he begged you to give him a chance to explain when you played a video on your phone that had been sent to you. You bit your lip and focused on pulling a bottle of wine from the undercounter cooler. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t make him do what he did. I didn’t lie or cheat or…anything else he did. Okay?” Still no response. “It’s not my fault. I’m not the bad guy here.” Still nothing. Not that you were expecting a response but the longer the silence lasted, the more pain you felt. “Fine, you want to blame me? Go right ahead. Everyone else in the world does, why not you, too?” 

You passed him by and you heard another whine, but you ignored it. You clenched your jaw, making your way back into the foyer to remove your shoes and jog up the stairs to change. You pretended that the sudden blurriness in your eyes was your exhaustion from the day and that the tears rolling down your cheeks were just from allergies, nothing to do with the pain you were feeling hearing his voice again — the voice of your cheating ex-husband. Not at all.

You were bored, channel surfing, as Milo laid next to you, his head on his paws. Both of you stared at the TV screen but you weren’t really seeing the constantly changing images. Instead, you had your head in your hand, turning his words from earlier over and over in your mind. 

“Nothing happened, Y/N.”

“I promise I didn’t—”

“Nothing happened between me and her.”

If only there wasn’t physical evidence to the contrary. If only he hadn’t lied and was still lying. You reached for your glass from the side table and took another sip. You had foregone the wine in favor of something with a little more kick. You intended on drinking until you became so drunk you would have no choice but not to care. You had already let your assistant know to clear your morning appointments before your second drink; you were now on your fourth.

So when an hour later, you were watching some wildlife documentary on BBC and you saw a female bear running from a male bear who was intent on mating with her, you slammed your glass down and sat up, causing Milo to lift his head up. “That’s right, run!” You yelled, slightly slurring your words. “Fucking run! Don’t trust him! He’ll tell you whatever you wanna hear just to get you on your back! Or your front or however the fuck you bears do it! But then he’ll wander off to find some other bitch to mount when he’s done! Mark my words! So you fucking run and you don’t look back! Fuck you, Baloo! Bare necessities, my ass! RUN!”

The female bear did run and she definitely put the male through it but eventually, she allowed him to catch up with her and gave in. You groaned loudly and threw the popcorn you had been munching on at the TV. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me! I told that bitch to run! Doesn’t she realize he’s only going to screw her and then really screw her? Nobody listens to me!” Milo jumped down to eat the stray pieces and when he turned to look at you, you shook your head. “I’m tellin’ you, buddy. Dogs. All o’ya.” He tilted his head curiously, his eyes laser focused on the bowl in your lap. You blew a raspberry at the TV when the narrator said the female bear would eventually give birth to cubs in months’ time. “You just wait until he takes a trip to Italy, I’m tellin’ ya. You’ll be sorry you didn’t listen to me then.” For a reason that wasn’t quite clear to you in this state, you threw more popcorn at the screen when a pair of mated penguins appeared next, waiting for their egg to hatch. You blew another raspberry and Milo immediately went on a popcorn rampage, all too happy to act as the cleanup crew. 

You sipped more scotch from your glass and you loved the trail of the burn it left from your tongue to your stomach. This was an excellent decision on your part. You needed a break from your chaotic everyday life, your broken heart, and…memories. 

Memories like him sitting on this couch with you as you watched Working Girl for the 4,085th time. 

It was one of your favorite movies and even though he was sick of it, he indulged your need for the familiar comfort it provided. You had a rough day at work, you and your mother had gotten into yet another argument over the phone, and your doctor had pretty much told you that your getting pregnant would be an impossibility. You were devastated and you were working up the courage to tell him, already not having told him about the existence of your appointment. He wasn’t really sure if he wanted kids but you did; you had always wanted a little girl. So you both eventually compromised that you would give it a shot and if it happened, great. If it didn’t, then you would cross that bridge when you came to it. That was the deal. But when you failed to get pregnant the past few months despite you both doing everything in your power to make it happen, you’d grown concerned and decided to get an official medical opinion on you first before asking him to. Sure enough, the news had crushing. At some point over time, after all of the monthly hell it put you through since you were thirteen, your traitorous reproductive system had decided to clock out and refused to clock back in when it was needed. 

So when you finally felt brave enough to tell him what you’d been told, that you wouldn’t break down in tears as you said the words, you noticed he wasn’t paying attention to the movie at all or you. He was on his phone and even when you called his name, trying to get him to look at you, he barely spared you a glance. When you asked him what he was doing, he said he had gotten some texts he was responding to, still not really looking at you. When you asked who they were from, a strange look fleeted across his face before he powered down his screen and slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

He had then turned a reassuring smile on you. “Just work stuff.” He laid a hand on your shoulder and tenderly rubbed his thumb in soothing circles. “So what is it you want to tell me?”

You arched a brow over at him. You hadn’t said you wanted to tell him anything.

He inclined his head towards the screen. “Working Girl? For the second time in two weeks? Something’s up.”

Dammit, he knew you too well. Something that had always been a plus in your relationship, especially since you two had shared a close friendship first. But while you had been finally ready to tell him your heartbreaking news, something about that look and his evading the question of who he had been texting now had you clamming up though you had no idea why. Or maybe you did but you didn’t want to think about it or look at it too closely. “Nothing,” you answered quietly, glancing back at the movie. “Just a rough day at work.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

You shook your head and bit your lip. “No, I’m good.” 

He studied you for a moment and nodded, accepting your answer before getting to his feet. “Alright, well, I’ve already seen this seventy eight times and that was before our first date.” He chuckled at his own joke. “So, I’m going to jump in the shower and then head to bed. Come up when you’re finished?” You forced a smile and a nod. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head before leaving the room. 

When he was gone and you heard the sounds of the shower upstairs start up, you sat frozen. You told yourself you were overthinking things and it made sense that if he thought something was bothering you, he wouldn’t want to start going into detail on a work-related project that either might be going great or not going so well. Not until he knew what was going on with you first. But you were also a divorce attorney and a woman — you knew the signs. You didn’t want to think that your husband — your best friend — would do that to you, especially knowing how much of a dealbreaker it was for you. You’d been very vocal about it before agreeing to date him. He wouldn’t really do that to you, would he? 

You’d shrugged it off, telling yourself you were being ridiculous, and turned the movie off before heading upstairs to bed. And when he scrolled through social media before sleep, smirking at the screen and typing something when he thought you were already out, you told yourself you were overreacting. And when a brief look of relief flashed in his eyes when you finally told him your doctor’s verdict a week later before he pulled you into a hug, you ignored your hurt and told yourself it was only because he had been up front with you about not really wanting kids at this stage of his life. That he had only compromised on trying to begin with in order to make you happy.

You should’ve known then what your instincts had been screaming at you. Just like that damn bear should have known. What this goddamn penguin should know. You blew another raspberry for good measure when the narrator said the male was attempting to attract the female by building a fucktastic nest. You weren’t exactly sure that’s what the narrator said but it was all the same shit to you. “Run, girl. That’s how they getcha,” you muttered, your slurring somehow worse as you sifted through popcorn. “He’s only trying to get in them panties. Trust me. Fly away — or waddle away very fast.” You laughed at your own joke and threw Milo a few pieces. He snatched them in mid-air, impressing you and making you clap happily for him. His tail wagged a thousand miles an hour as he waited for more snacks. 

And then someone decided to ruin your little pity party. Milo’s head in the opposite direction and he suddenly took off for the front door, barking like crazy and making you jump. A moment later, the doorbell rang and your cell phone chimed with the Ring notification. You glanced at the time on your screen; who the hell would be at your door at this hour? You quickly checked the Ring camera, your heart rate accelerating slightly as Milo’s barking didn’t let up. Were you about to be attacked? Broken into? Scammed? Given the Good Word and a talk on how to achieve your salvation? What? And you were drunk — fffffuck.

You waited for the screen to pop up and when it did, your heart was pounding for a whole other reason. You could feel the fury racing through your veins like wildfire. You’d know that set of shoulders and ball cap anywhere. Was this for real?

You watched as the person at your front door pressed the doorbell again, giving a hesitant wave to the camera. A familiar voice suddenly sounded through the speakers on your phone. “I know you’re home, Y/N. I can hear Milo barking. Can you come to the door, please?”

Oh, he wanted you to come to the door? Not a problem. He was going to regret it, though.

You jumped to your feet, you being the one to immediately regret it instead as you held onto the arm of the couch to regain your balance. When you didn’t fall back onto the couch or onto the floor, you stormed into the foyer — well, you tried to storm into it anyway. Milo was there, half whining, half barking, and glancing back and forth between you and the front door, clearly wanting you to open it. You reached it, flipped the locks, and threw the door open, glaring at the last person you ever wanted to see darken your doorway again. “What the hell do you want?”

Your ex-husband looked shocked for a moment, more by what his assessing gaze took in of you than by your aggressive greeting. “Have you been drinking?”

You snorted a laugh. “You’re going to ask me that? Really? You?” You shot him a meaningful look. 

He had the decency to briefly appear ashamed as he should. Hadn’t that been one of the several excuses he’d thrown your way once his dastardly deeds had come to light? God, you’d lost count of them at this point. “I was hoping we could talk but if…” He gestured to you with a hand but didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to; you knew very well what he was implying and it just served to anger you further.

“Are you kidding me right now? You don’t just show up on my doorstep—”

“Our doorstep.” 

“My doorstep,” you corrected. “Out of the blue, wanting to talk. It’s no longer about what you want, anyway.”

“Y/N, please. Can we just—”

“No! You hear me? N-O. No!” You went to shut the door when he stopped you.

“I’ve been trying to call you all day, you won’t return my calls, you won’t answer my texts.”

“Gee, I wonder why, Cheater McCheaterson,” you hissed, attempting to close the door despite him holding it open.

He let out an irritated sigh. “Look, I just want to talk, Y/N. No lawyers, no third parties, no more phone hang ups or emails not responded to — just us.”

You shoved against the door with all of your might though it proved futile. Why did he have to be so big and why did he have to show up when you were three—four—five sheets to the wind? “Like I’ve said a hundred thousand times before, there is nothing to talk about.” You spun around and pushed your back against the door, trying to shut him out that way. The damn thing still didn’t budge and you were starting to lose the battle with your balance. Milo watched you and you could see the judgment in his dark brown eyes; even he knew the door wasn’t going to close and the man you’d once given your heart to wasn’t going to go away that easily. “You cheated, you lied, you got caught, we’re getting divorced. End. Of. Story,” you grunted as you uselessly pushed against the door. That whole spiel might have sounded more impressive had you not just slurred your way through about ninety percent of it. 

A hand reached around and gently laid on top of yours, causing you to stop pushing and look down. Tears began to build in your eyes when you saw an all-too familiar golden band on the fourth finger, feeling the cold metal against your skin, almost burning you when the memory of you putting it on his hand immediately popped into your head. 

He had graced you with a warm and affectionate smile as you repeated the vows you were told to say. “To love and to cherish, ‘till death do us part,” you finished, slipping the ring onto his finger and joining your hands as practiced. His smile grew and he didn’t even wait for the officiant to finish speaking before he leaned forward and kissed you, causing a lot of ‘awww’s and laughter from the audience. He had then placed his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes and looking beyond happy. As it so often did for you when he did things like this, the world around you faded away until it was just the two of you. 

“We’re married now,” he murmured. “No returns or refunds or exchanges. No take backs. It’s for real.”

“I must have missed that part of the vows,” you joked, wrapping your arms around his neck as your eyes roamed his handsome face. He gently nudged your nose in response. “Yes, it’s for real,” you capitulated. “Not a bad choice for my first husband, if I do say so myself.” You shot him a teasing grin.

He chuckled and your heart skipped a beat; you loved that sound. “You mean your only husband, right?” He growled out playfully before swooping down to kiss you more passionately than before as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pick you up. You laughed into his mouth and you could faintly hear the sounds of cheering, whistles, and clapping somewhere in the distance.   

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from breaking down in tears. How dare he still wear that thing? After he’d pledged to love you for the rest of your lives together, no matter what? To be faithful to you even? You snatched your hand from underneath his and pushed the wood again, grunting loudly. 

“Sweetheart—”

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed.

His face appeared next, a lot closer to you than you had anticipated, and it took everything you had to keep standing. You could see devastation in those green depths that closely mirrored your own, the bloodshot eyes staring back at you along with a hint of dark circles underneath indicating to you that there had been a sleepless night or two very recently. His skin was at least two shades lighter than what it should be and his usually neatly trimmed beard was not as well kept. How dare he? How dare he look so hurt when he was the offending party? When he was the reason behind all of this pain he had caused you both?

“Please, honey,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

Your jaw clenched and you felt a tear start rolling down your cheek. Dammit, you had told yourself you would never cry in front of him, not after what he’d done. You would never give him the satisfaction of knowing just how deeply he hurt you. “I don’t want to talk to you, Jensen.” The pain in his expression intensified but you willfully ignored it. You also ignored the oh-so-ironically timed whine Milo let out nearby. “So just leave already. We’re done and nothing you say is ever going to change that.” You roughly wiped away the tear and ambled down the hall to the guest bathroom, slamming and locking the door shut behind you without once looking back.

Only when you turned on the shower did you collapse on the floor, your back to the tub, and bury your face into your knees as you broke down into sobs. You’d meant what you said; you and Jensen were done, and nothing he said could ever change that. Just when you thought your heart was beyond the ability of being damaged anymore than it already had been, you felt one final crack form as you poured out your anguish into the small tiled room.

A/N: Jensen disclaimer here. Btw, I am not suggesting anything about Jensen himself, his marriage or previous relationships, or anything related. I only chose "Jensen" because that character seemed to fit the themes I wanted to cover best. At first, I was going for Beau but then that didn't work for obvious reasons. Then Dean but again, didn't work. Ultimately, it ended up being "Jensen" in the end aka "just right". For story purposes, "Jensen" is not a parent when he meets the reader.

[graveyardlifeguard]

Survivors Part 4

Summary: Occurs during the events of Season 4x13 and Season 4x14.

*This is my first attempt at writing after many, many years so please go easy on me*

Warnings: Shooting, Injury, Blood

Strictly Angst with a teeny tiny bit of Fluff

Eddie Diaz x Paramedic! Reader

The next morning, Eddie and I were both feeling the effects of staying up late as we both moved around the house like drunk zombies. Carla arrives early as usual and laughs at Eddie and I before making the comment, “You both look exhausted.” As we’re getting dressed for the day, she was kind enough to make both of us mugs of coffee. I can’t remember the last time I drank a coffee so fast. Eddie was mature and sipped his correctly while he threw me funny glances when he noticed that mine was gone before we were even halfway to work.

Once at work, Eddie parked the car but before I can move to open the door, I feel his hand on my bicep to which he smoothly pulls me back towards him. A long kiss is once again initiated, which I’m not complaining about. When it’s decided that we both need to come up for air, just like last night, Eddie places a soft kiss to my forehead. Although giving me a kiss before work wasn’t unusual, there was something about this one that just felt… different. It’s not like we weren’t going to see each other for a while. We both worked in the same station, we see each other constantly, well that it is call depending I guess.

“What’s all that about cowboy? We’re both going into the same place.” I ask, still smiling at him.

He pauses before answering, staring into my eyes as though the answers to life greatest mysteries sat behind them. “I just love you so much.”

I don’t know how but the smile on my face somehow grew ten times bigger than it already was. We had this game going for years of who could say ‘I love you’ the “largest.” It was always a race to see who could say it last or the largest amount. To the moon and back, to infinity and back, etc. Usually, he won but today I wanted it to be different. So as quick as I can, I give him a quick kiss on the lips, whisper “I love you more than anything” and high tail it out of the car. I can hear him laughing and yelling behind me but that doesn’t matter. I said it last, so I won this round.

After changing into my uniform, I made sure to hide from Eddie so I can maintain my win. Shift change is done rather quickly with my nighttime relief where he reports that nothing crazy had occurred throughout the night. Hopefully, it would stay that way today. Gathering all the information I have on Sheila Leute, or whatever her name is, I make my phone call to CPS. They give me the generous offer of coming by in a few days to check on Charlie. They tell me how bogged down and short staffed they are, causing there to be a large back up on their already established cases. Fair enough, we unfortunately could relate to low staffing issues. Jumping in my CCP vehicle, I make my way towards Charlie and Sheila’s residence.

Making my way up the elevator, I feel my personal phone vibrating in my pocket. Luckily, my smart watch is connected to my phone so I can see who is calling without having to dig into my pocket. The elevator door opens up at the same time that I see that it’s Eddie who is calling. I end the call and begin to send him a voice message that I’m busy when I notice that Shiela and Charlies apartment door is already open. Walking up to the door, I find Charlie standing by the window, looking absolutely panicked. I rush into the house, quickly finding his mom on the living room floor, grasping at her throat with foam coming out of her mouth. I feel my eyes widen for a moment before I immediately get to work helping her. I hear Charlie say behind me that he had already called Eddie and that Eddie was on the way. That probably explains why Eddie was calling me. I had already told Dispatch where I was and what I was doing so the 118 had to know I was already here.

By the time I hear sirens outside, I had already placed an IV started in her right hand with a bag of Fluids running in. I luckily found a place to hang the bag before I work on ventilating her with the BVM. Charlie tells me that he put eye drops in his moms cereal and that he just wanted to see what would happen when he did it. Before I can say anything to reassure him, the door slams open even further and Captain Mehta and his crew are beside me. I can hear Eddie beginning talking to Charlie as I update Mehta and his squad about Sheila’s condition. From the kitchen, I can hear Charlie tell Eddie that he has known for a while that his mom has been putting eye drops in his food and drinks. My heart drops as I realize that Charlie knew exactly what his mom was doing to him. How she was the one that was poisoning him and making him sick. I glance towards the kitchen and lock eyes with Eddie. The realization that he knew hurts more than either of us could have realized.

“The kid’s going to need treatment too,” Buck starts, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. I guess they had figured out how Sheila was causing Charlie’s illness after I left this morning.

“Same kind of poisoning, just smaller doses. But for a really long time.”

After loading both Charlie and Sheila onto stretchers and making sure both crews were okay for the moment, I begin to pack up my gear. Thank God I had brought it up with me. As I reach down to pick up the monitor, a hand beats me to it. A familiar hand that belongs to someone I mentally and emotionally need at the moment. I once again look up and meet Eddie’s eyes. There’s a look of sympathy there that I can’t quite understand. Sure, I had a personal connection to this situation, but not as much as Eddie did. Nothing is said for a moment as I notice that Buck is still standing nearby in the kitchen, with my medical bag on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Is all I can get out for the moment, but it seems to convey everything I want to say as both men just smile and nod at me. Moving towards the elevator, they update me on how they figured out what was causing Charlie to be sick. Eddie tells me about how he saw the eyedrops the other day while looking through the cabinets. By the time we reach the bottom floor and make our way through the lobby, Charlie and Sheila are being wheeled to their respective ambulances. My SUV is sitting out front, now surrounded by Battalion 7, Captain Mehta’s firetruck, and the two ambulances. Noticing the confused look on my face brought on by seeing Battalion 7 with no Bobby in sight, Buck laughs and tells me it was the only vehicle available. On the way to talk to Charlie, the boys place my bags in the back of my vehicle before meeting me at Charlie’s side.

“Will I see her at the hospital?” He asks me. Honestly, the question breaks my heart. Even after knowing what she was doing to him, that was still his mother and he still wanted to be around her. Eddie responds to Charlie before I can, telling him that she’s a little more sick and that she’ll have to go to a different hospital. From the other ambulance I can hear that Sheila has woken up and is now yelling for “her baby.” In all honesty, it pisses me off. How can you, for years, poison your own child yet want to call him your baby. It just didn’t make sense to me. The doors close to the ambulance with them leaving shortly after.

I let out a defeated sigh as Buck and Eddie move towards me. With Buck standing in front of me, Eddie moves to my left, something I had noticed that he had subconsciously started doing ever since he proposed. Nonetheless, I appreciated them being close to me in this moment. My mind needed them to help with the emotional toll this call had taken on me. I feel like I should’ve done more. I knew the other day that something wasn’t right and yet I bit my tongue and did nothing about it. It felt like this whole situation was my fault.

“I should’ve gotten here sooner.” I think to myself, or so I thought. Not realizing that I had said it out loud, I move my eyes away from Charlie’s ambulance and meet the concerned stares of Eddie and Buck. They both knew how I took certain things personal. A call like this with an outcome like this? Oh yeah, I was going to take it personally. Both men move to say something before Captain Mehta, unknowingly, interrupts them.

“Lieutenant, you want to ride with the kid to the hospital?”

“Yeah, that would be gre—” My sentence is cut short as a loud gunshot rings out nearby. It feels as though time stopped. Everything and everyone seems to be moving in slow motion. Looking up at Buck, my brain registers that he is now covered in blood. It’s on his face, his neck, and his shirt. Has he always been in that shirt? It’s not our uniform. Thinking of the uniform, my uniform feels wet all of a sudden. Why would my shirt be wet when it’s not raining outside? Time is still moving incredibly slow as I look towards Eddie, who now has an absolute look of terror on his face. It takes me way too long to realize why my shirt is wet and what’s causing the cold sensation to move down my body. I’ve been shot. Someone shot me. Glancing down at my shoulder, I can see the gnarly hole in uniform shirt that accompanies the new hole that has made its home in my body. My breath catches in my throat, and it feels impossible to stand upright. My knees give out on their own and I feel myself slowly drop to the ground. All at once, time seems to catch back up to me and I find myself staring across the road at Eddie and Buck. They are behind the cover of the firetruck with Mehta appearing to be holding them back. My body grows cold quickly, and my head begins to feel heavy, like it weighs thirty tons. There's a weird, wet sensation on my head and I realize that my blood is soaking through my hair, aiding the cold sensation I’m already feeling. How odd…

Lying on the cold, now blood-soaked ground, I can hear Captain Mehta yelling through the radio that there’s been shots fired. And that a Paramedic has been shot. My brain constantly reminds me, maybe to keep me conscious, that it’s me. I’ve been shot. I’m the Paramedic that’s been shot. Glancing up through blurry vision, that seems to be growing darker by the second, I can still register that Eddie and Buck are lying on the ground, yelling for me. At this point though, my hearing feels like I’m lying on the ocean floor, and they are on the shore, whispering to me. Despite my best attempts at keeping them open, I can feel my eyes shutting.

When I come to, it’s pain that has awoken me. Someone has grabbed my arm. The one will a new hole in it. “I’ve been shot,” I tell myself again and again. Maybe if I keep saying it, my brain will keep me awake. And alive. There’s someone screaming in pain. My brain doesn’t register that it’s me screaming in pain only that someone is screaming. It distracts me long enough that I realize that I might not have been the only one shot. Eddie and Buck are here too. One of them might’ve been shot. Oh God. How was I going to explain this to Christopher or Maddie that their loved one had been shot? While trying to process everything that’s going on, I realize that somehow I’m standing on my own two feet. But it’s not for long as I quickly find myself being thrown over someone’s shoulder and passed along to someone else. I feel like I’m flying as I now see that I’m in the back of the fire truck. Why am I looking up at the roof of the truck?

Items and faces blur together again for a moment and my hearing once more sounds like I’m being dunked under water. It sounds like there’s more gunfire but at this point I can’t really tell what’s going on. A face appears above me and I think it’s Eddie. It’s hard to tell as my eyes keep closing on their own. There’s a sharp tug at my shirt and my vision clears up from the jolt of pain that follows it. Eddie is leaning over me while Buck is slamming thick gauze over the new hole in my shoulder. I’ve been shot. I have been shot. This doesn’t make sense. I was just on a Wellness check call. How am shot? I’ve been shot? Eddie appears again in front of my face and this time I notice the blood covering him. My head falls to the side to check on Buck where I find that he too is blanketed in blood. Somehow though, he’s absolutely covered by it. I can see their mouths moving but I’m not hearing anything that they’re saying.

My brain focuses in again. Eddie and Buck are soaked in blood. Were they shot too? Buck is still holding my shoulder with what feels like all of the strength in his body. If it didn’t hurt so much, I would crack some sort of joke with him about it. Everything blurs again and when I come to this time, they are both leaning over me, and I can finally hear what they are saying. This time, I can see the genuine fear in both of the boys eyes.

“Stay with me baby, you got to stay with us!” Eddie pleads, he can’t sit still as he keeps moving over top of me. His eyes are crazed as he looks all over the place as if he’s searching for something. Another bullet wound maybe? I’ve never seen this look in his eye and I don’t like it. I want to soothe him and tell him that I’m fine but the only thing I manage to cough out is,

“Are y’all hurt?” They look at me like I’m crazy before subconsciously looking over themselves, and each other, before answering. Buck opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. His mouth and jaw twitch to move but it’s like that’s all he can do in the moment.

“No, no, no baby we’re okay. We’re okay, okay? You’re going to be okay and we’re okay” Eddie tells me, struggling to get the words out. In the background I can hear what sounds like Mehta yelling over the radio, “…A Paramedic has been shot…It’s the Lieutenant from the 118!”

Eddie and Buck are back in my line of sight now, but it doesn’t last long. It’s almost like my body needed the reassurance that they were okay so I could rest. Their mouths are moving again, I think, there are words coming out of them. The only thing I feel like I know is that I have a hole in my shoulder, and I’ve been shot. Words are muffled and time feels like it’s slowing down again. I don’t want to die. I want to get married to Eddie Diaz. I want to spend the right of my life with him. This isn’t fair. I love him. And I know he loves me. This isn’t fair to him. Or to me. My head lolls back to the side and I feel someone’s hand straighten it back up. It’s Eddie and I can see the tears rolling down his cheeks. It’s cutting through the blood like a knife, making a clear pathway down his face. He’s talking to me and the way that I long to hear what he’s saying is unnatural. Somone is placing an oxygen mask on my face, and everything goes quiet. I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I try to look up Eddie one last time. I don’t know if this is it, but I want my last look at the world to be of my world. Eddie Diaz. I don’t know if can sense it or see the change in my eyes, but something shifts in his. Although I can’t hear him. I can somewhat see him. He looks even more panicked, more petrified and I don’t how he manages it. I’m just really tired, and cold. There’s a hole in my shoulder….and I’ve been shot. By the time the truck feels as though it’s coming to a sudden stop, I lose the battle to consciousness and slowly drift off...

[octuscle]

Hey im really confused and need some help from suport.

So im a male actor/ model and things have been really tough in the industry lately with the strikes and all so i was over the moon when a clothing brand reached out to me. But the wierd thing is this brand does not really catter to ny estetic. I usualy get jobs from high end luxury brands, but this company is a street wear blue collar clothing brand. I went to a meeting and gave me a out fit of a thick t-shirt, carpenters jeans, a flannle shirt, work boots, and a jock strap. All of them a size or more to bog for me. They also gave me a dinged up old cell phone. Then then told me to get comferable in thecloths and show up to the abandand site the next morning at the crack of dawn for the shoot. Im feeling realky weird and hungeryer then i ever been in my life. Please help.

The bag with the clothes for the photo shoot is in the trunk of your VW Beetle overnight. Cute little car. It's already got a few years under its belt. But still drives well. And that's all you can afford at the moment. You also need the money from this job. Otherwise you'll have to part with this car too. That's why you're so excited about the job. You're not sleeping very well. And normally you would go for an hour's run after getting up. But today you're hungry after a restless night. A huge appetite. You make yourself a large portion of scrambled eggs and bacon. You didn't even know you had so many eggs in the house. Yeah, that was good. Now the day can begin. You put on a white button-down shirt, plain Calvin Klein jeans and white sneakers and walk to your car at 05:00 in the morning. Yes, the Mustang is a bit rusty. But it's a classic. It suits you. It makes you feel a bit like James Dean.

Shit, you've left your iPhone in the apartment. But there's still the old Cat phone in the bag with the clothes. You type in the address and turn on the speaker. Looking at your hands, you're annoyed that you haven't had a manicure. You have hands like a construction worker.

One disadvantage of your Mustang is that it consumes an incredible amount of gas. You have to refuel halfway to the photo shoot. And take a shit. Hehehe, if you eat a lot in the morning, you have to shit a lot. And you're hungry again. It's almost 07:00 already. So you fill up at the next service station and then eat a burger with a large portion of fries. Your white T-shirt has a few ketchup stains and slips out of your old 501 over your belly, but now you feel good again. Your cell phone says there are only 50 miles to go. A stone's throw for your mighty pickup. The only thing you need before you arrive on the set of the shoot are cigars. Fuck, you left yours at home too. Luckily, you pass a tobacconist's just before you leave for the abandoned industrial site. The photo shoot is scheduled for two days, so ten cigars should be enough.

You are a star model in the workwear scene. You're actually a crane operator, but you can always use a little extra money. Besides, there's usually a lot to fuck on the set of the shoots. Photographers, marketing hipsters and the effeminate professional models love your huge cock. Your cigar is tiny in comparison.

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Hi all! I've got lots of asks in my askbox and I appreciate the ones that have been kind messages for me. <3

I will probably take a few more days off of here, but I wanted to share something from today.

I attended the wedding of a friend of mine. It was hard to go because I feel bogged down in work and family drama, but I went, and I am so glad I did. It was so beautiful. The bride and groom were crying a lot and so were many of the friends and family members. A couple of my friends brought their children, and it was a light in the world to watch them dance and have fun.

There was a lot of food there and I struggled, I'll admit. Especially because recent stress has caused my GI issues to flare up a bit, so my stomach was a little uncomfortable no matter what I chose to eat and that can sometimes send me on a spiral of food regret and thinking I should have restricted. But I did not restrict, and I did not binge. I enjoyed a few things here and there, and took my time in returning to the food table for desserts so that I could enjoy my food throughout the day without overly focusing on it. I gave my GI system a chance to rest but still kept myself fed and allowed myself to have treats. I was able to connect with people, focus on individual beautiful moments, and enjoy the amazing event at least in some capacities.

Food-based events are really hard for me, especially crowded ones. This was tough because I was already struggling, but I did it, and I am proud of myself. I did some more self-care when I got home, including a short workout, shower, mindfulness meditation, and another light snack to keep me feeling fed without overwhelming my GI system. And now I'm writing this. I like to be able to share things about what I struggle with safely. I think we all need that. Though I luckily have friends I can talk to now, there've been times in my life that I was surrounded by people with whom I could never have shared this stuff. I am so glad to be able to help others share too.

There were a lot of moments today that made me feel like there are lights of hope in a dark world. I hope you all are able to look for these moments in your daily lives. I hope you're all able to find (and create) good ones.

EDITED TO ADD: Also the groom cut the wedding cake with a sword.

[secondhandsorrows]

3 Quick Tips on Writing Dialogue

Okay… so one of the biggest writing hurdles I often face is writing dialogue. Good dialogue. I know such a statement can be pretty subjective, but there’s something to dialogue that demands attention. There’s things involved like subtext, purpose, characterization, and sense of realism. On the other hand, there’s also character voice, expression, body language, and dialogue tags (sparingly, if you can)… all of which can be important, too. Sometimes it’s tricky for me to get a handle on writing dialogue that sounds natural, less stilted, and more as though the characters are real and conversing like we humans would (not to say dialogue should include unnecessary filler-words and repetitions we tend to overuse in our day-to-day conversations). 

Today, I’m going to share three quick tips I’ve accumulated from research and from my own experiences in creative fiction workshops on improving your dialogue. 

1. Avoid needless filler-words and phrases.

Let’s just get this one out of the way. I know this was already mentioned a few sentences ago, but it needs to be further cemented. This is the kind of fluff that we use in day-to-day chatter, like misused grammar, useless small talk, and talking in circles that, more often than not, comes across as boring and trivial. We may think this is a good way to create realistic dialogue, but alas, there is such thing as too-realistic dialogue. Focus instead on crafting dialogue that sounds as natural as possible. At least, try to get rid of the fluff, or use it with caution, as it may bog down your pacing and slow down your readers. 

This doesn’t mean you can’t utilize some small talk, repetitions, filler words, or speech patterns like stammering. Rules are sometimes meant to be bent, just a little. It can be used to create distinctions between unique character voices, lighten the mood, express an emotion that is being felt, if you know where to put them. Dialogue can — and should — be personalized to each character. 

This brings me to the next point:

2. Refrain from revealing too much information at once. 

Not only is this considered info-dumping, but giving away a ton of detail in a piece of dialogue can come across as stiff and out-of-place.  Though it may seem convenient to utilize dialogue as a way to pass information to the reader without getting all repetitive or boring within the narrative, it tends to break away from what the character (or a real person) might actually say. Especially when it’s given to a character that has no reason or incentive to recite drawn-out exposition to give the reader some background. This can be attributed to being uncharacteristic. 

Try tweaking it as to fit your character’s voice: their mood, how they communicate their values, which aspects they find more important to discuss, which topics they actively avoid or tend to overlook. Also keep in mind who they’re speaking to, and whether or not they need to hear the information, as well. 

3. Think about what is being left un-said.

Now, I’ve mentioned subtext quite a bit, already. Subtext, as the definition goes from Literaryterms.net, is “the unspoken or less obvious meaning or message in a literary composition, drama, speech, or conversation.” Knowing this, we can implicitly communicate to the reader covertly a truer meaning or mood within a conversation or interaction between characters: that a character is smiling through a grimace trying to look as if he’s enjoying what his friend had cooked for him when in reality he’s forcing it to spare their feelings. Or, when a woman says “she’s fine” when actually she’s not fine (real). Her answer is forced, her tone clipped, her arms are firmly crossed and she’s angling herself away. How about when a character is pining for another? They might stammer over their words and are prone to blushing whenever they’re around. 

There’s a lot of different ways you can go about using subtext. I probably could’ve added a lot more, but all I want to say for now is that the beauty of subtext allows to stir interest and to further character examination, especially in dialogue. There is more that can be said, but the characters may choose not to. It could also be used to hint at the reader, to foreshadow, facilitate themes, make contradictions, to build tension and emotion… there’s internal conflict that can be explored here. Let your characters tell their own stories in their own, unique ways.  

That’s all, for now. Hope this helped!

[stormyweaver]

Computer Virus - Vo/x, Ha/zbin Ho/tel

I couldn't not post this eventually. Been rattling around in my drafts for a while so I figured it was time it see's more than just the light of a few people's gazes. Also idk great details about computers/television besides google so uh, yeah lol. (Contains illness and minor mentions of mess) Summary: Vo/x is reminded why he never lets his co-workers use his private tech. AKA Vale/ntino you asshole.

“Fug’ck’s sake…”

Vox swallowed hard - then immediately wished he hadn’t. The action brought a pronounced, throbbing ache along the swollen, tender flesh of his throat. What had started as a barely there tickle and a slight stiffness in his joints steadily morphed into a definite virus - one that decided to bring family and friends, because it felt like his entire being was bogged down with congestion, discomfort and malaise. 

In short: It fucking sucked, and he could only blame fucking Valentino.

Every time the asshole had an issue with his laptop, he always, always used Vox’s personal one - seriously, he was gonna need to triple encrypt it at this point to keep him out - and managed to download a fucking nasty malware via some kind of porn site. By the time Vox had connected his own system to the device, it was already too late, and by the time he’d found the source, it had already been transferred to him. Part of him couldn’t be pissed at Valentino. Like, truly couldn’t. Valentino would just start cussing him out; How should I know what the fuck a computer virus looks like? What the hell is malware, anyway? On and on and on, until finally Vox would grow weary and just ban him from using any of his devices EVER again. 

A sigh ghosted past Vox’s lips, followed by a sniffle - the sound so thick, sodden and heavy that it nearly had his skin crawling. To know that he didn’t even have a nose, let alone sinuses to get swollen and yet he felt so unbearably full to the brim with congestion… It was disgusting.

He almost wanted to sneeze, if to have a brief moment where his head didn’t feel so full to bursting. Almost.

Maybe if he could call it one-and-done, but nooo. He could never sneeze just once. They came in bursts, itchy expulsions that seemed to tumble out on top of each other, so damned excited to finally be let loose. And they left Vox panting, sniveling and mortified as he tried to mop the fluid that seeped from his vents and lips. Fuck, it was so gross.

Groaning, he shifted onto his side and tugged the duvet tighter over his shoulders - he hadn’t left bed for a good few hours but fuck it. The day was a wash the moment he’d slept through his alarm. Velvette and Valentino (the virus-peddling-moth-fucker) could manage without him for one damn day. His eyes were close to shutting completely, once again allowing the haze of sleep to take over - until he felt it. Just there, right behind his eyes; an inkling of prickling irritation. He whined, squinting and uselessly screwing his expression up as though he did have a nose to wriggle and twitch. Please, just let me sleep for a minute…

As if infuriated at the mere idea that Vox wouldn’t allow himself the pleasure of sneezing, the sensation all but exploded, and a sharp hitch flew past his lips. “Fuhhhck m’be, plhhheease…!” Okay, maybe that was a little weird to be gasping out in bed - alone but, he simply didn’t care. In the moment, all Vox could do was gasp and sputter, a few more lewd-leaning sounds spilling past trembling lips before the television demon’s system couldn’t stand to have the intense irritation linger a moment longer. “heh’IISSCHHH’HIEW!” 

The first sneeze always managed to take him by surprise, if nothing else than because he was still stunned he could even sneeze so hard without a fucking nose. He cringed, feeling the pillowcase beneath his head grow a bit damp - ughhh, fucking gross - but he had all of two seconds to dwell on the mess factor before a shiver rippled down his spine. “hHHZZSCHH’hiew! hHHZZ’NGSHHh! Hehh!! Ehhh’IZZSCHH’OOoo! Unnghh… fu’huuugck…”

A pitiful whine trailed after the last exhausting sneeze. It felt like someone had just sucked whatever was left of his damned soul out of his ailing body. And the congestion somehow seemed worse, sluggishly dripping onto his already soiled pillowcase. It plugged his ears and made his head spin even while laying down. 

Despite how Vox wanted to immediately throw himself into the pits of hell itself, he settled on nuzzling deeper into his covers and tugging the comforter forcefully over his head. 

Fuck a day off. At this rate, the other Vee’s were lucky if they managed to get him back in a week.

[chantsdemarins]

🏰Breath of the Æsir {Loki X Fem.Reader} Chapter 3: Stories Cannot Burn or Disappear

I am so sorry these chapters are taking me so long. I haven't been the same since Covid! I hope the quality is still good...Thank you for joining my crazy medieval AU Loki fever dream era.

There is a bit of Easter and eclipse magic wound up in this chapter!

Summary: Loki isn't the only one who thinks you are more than a human woman, which buys you time while you figure out how to keep your manor and tenants safe. However, the challenge of nursing a debilitated, power-stripped god adds a layer of complexity to your already daunting task, clouding your judgment when clarity is most needed.

Note to Reader: Yes, Hozier is now a character, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you 😭 But which character will he be? Guess and comment!

Passion and Romance Meter: Nothing explicit yet but hopefully you feel it boiling.

I hope these people don't mind being tagged! I thought you might want to be tagged! Please let me know if you don't want the tag or if you want to be tagged. Also comments and reblogs are healing and joyous for me!

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The clay soil in your husband’s land hadn’t fully absorbed the blood of the Christian god. Not yet at least. The claustrophobic land was hemmed by bogs and marshes, lowlands with the familiar wooden gods made from branches poking out of the muddy banks. The tides to the east would fill the saturated earth till she could take no more before becoming a lake. This system of pooling respiration created a natural barrier for the people. The stillness of the water meant you didn’t stop for long, just enough time to plant your wooden god or light a beeswax candle, burn some leaves as an offering, and then find fast footing across the rickety log bridges built by people no one could remember.

In spring, a carpet of blue wood betony would appear. The town's folk's talk led you to forage it, keeping the blossoms and stems in dark Roman glass, tucked on the kitchen shelf next to the salt. Your husband never noticed your collection, or if he did, he never mentioned it as anything particular or strange. It was a relief to find plants that grew elsewhere, unlike the state of the manor land — high on a hill, flanked by rocky, sandy soil. Collecting plants often made you wonder if Christ might rise from the bogs. You'd just have to wait and see, you supposed, imagining Christ emerging naked from the thick peaty waters, stray herbs clinging to his torso.

Perhaps when Loki showed up, bleeding from his stomach, you'd envisioned something like that before. That desert man had a different name, Jesus of Nazareth. You blushed at the thought of any man, holy or common.

Yet, you didn't blush much while sewing Loki back up. Stitches plunged down his torso into places you'd only seen hinted at on the marble body of Jupiter in Eboracum. Your confident needlework proved itself. If your cheeks reddened, it wasn't from embarrassment but from lack of oxygen, struggling to breathe. Saving a life required haste, much different from the crafts of passing time.

The day the Northmen came you had been already struggling to breathe, you’d lost your air completely and found Loki’s form in front of you when your eyes finally opened again. His hair like ash from the hearth, his eyes the most peculiar color of blue, much like the betony in your waiting Roman jars. Just where had you gone when you’d lost your air? Loki had refused to confront the Danes, refused to fight them. He had handed you back his weapon, leaving you to confront the invaders yourself.

After all, you became a manor wife because your origins had burned in your village's fire, but not in the stories that followed. Stories cannot burn or disappear, especially when people fleeing tell them to the right people in the countryside. Your husband's family had heard your father's tales and believed him. Your hand in marriage was worth more than any dowry. It was all the more disappointing when you couldn't produce an heir or embroidery, and the manor lands remained sandy, rocky, and haunted. You hadn't known a husband should stay close or lie with his wife until Elinor finally told you. Your confidence to heal a stranger, to meet the Northmen at their boat, came from your father. He told you who you were, and like the manor people, you believed him — even if you didn't understand what you were.

The sky had darkened as you came to the mahogany longship anchored next to the wind-ravaged cliffs. You knew to avert your eyes from the mast, the Northern dragon guardian was designed to kill folk such as you. A provocation to your ancestors. There was confusion at their camp, what seemed like hundreds of men were pointing above and shaking their heads. A seer had cast the runes, and the chieftain seemed to not like what the seer had spoken. The rugged man looked up at the sky once more and sent what looked like an envoy to you. He blamed the Norns and you in yet another language you didn’t understand. He could not kill you because it would only curse them more.

Stunned, your trembling hands clutched Loki's blade in disbelief. You ran beneath the still darkening sky, which seemed poised for rain, though no clouds were visible. Looking up, you saw something unimaginable. A planet had fully eclipsed the sun. Your people knew of these events, but you had not witnessed one yourself. As you ran you wondered if the land's spirits had cast a powerful enough curse to scare the Northmen.

Returning home, you found only Loki in the makeshift courtyard, fever-ridden, slumped over the fence. Your heart sank, fearing he was actually dead this time. But the breath of the Æsir still moved through him, you could see his chest moving as you approached.

The village was silent, its people hiding. The only sound was the wind stirring the grain fields and the oak leaves in a dry, papery rhythm. Loki beckoned you inside but he was barely able to move to the porch, he was already worried you’d absorbed too much of the darkness. You fell into his arms, wincing from the feel of his fevered skin through your shift. Significantly taller, Loki's limbs resembled a freshly felled hawthorn. You dragged him closer to the front door, you both were exhausted in the strange day of night.

Your efforts paused for a moment, you readjusted your grip on the stranger. "Saturn is passing over the sun, an eclipse," Loki murmured, breaths faint and labored. How did he know this? Such knowledge was native only to your people. Still reeling from scaring off the Danes, you now faced an eclipse. Loki speculated on the Northmen's possible interpretation of the event. Since much of their knowledge came from his world, he felt he knew exactly what they must have felt seeing the sky darken as you approached.

"They saw the eclipse as a sign of your power. They recognize planetary transits. As you approached them, Saturn crossed the sun's path, a coincidence perhaps in your favor," Loki continued. "But they'll return, and we need to be ready," he cautioned, aware of your mutual defenselessness. He felt responsible for the deaths across these isles, seeking balance, an unfamiliar concept.

You had wanted him to stay long enough to know who he was but now it appeared like he wasn't well enough to be able to leave, even if that is what you both wanted. The truth was, part of you didn't want him to go at all. There was something about him. He knew some of the old ways and where ever he had come from, you suspected again, he had once held a high status.

Loki also continued to contemplate your shared fates. Did the Norns truly allow for this meeting between you as part of the path of the raven’s wingspan, his destiny as a god with no power. He dared to speak to you some of his true thoughts. He felt he owed you some kind of explanation for his resistance to fighting on your behalf.

“Lady, I wish I could help you but as you see I am unwell from my wounds. When I heal, I would like to help you defend your home as part of my thanks, I will find a way to do that does not involve fighting. We have the cosmos on our side it seems, so perhaps there is more luck for our coming together. This is of course if you will continue to have me.”

His pale face seemed even more ghastly, and he laid his body on the porch in a heap, looking very similar to how you first found him. You felt a tenderness stir. You’d felt it for him when you were saving him but now it was tinged with worry for both of your lives and everyone who depended on you.

“Loki I don't want to heal you twice, but it seems this is my fate. Let’s see what you have within you still and if your Gods are listening. I expect you will tell me why you refuse to fight or why you cannot. You owe me the truth. There is much you are not saying.”

He knew he would not be able to hide himself from you as you seemed unable to hide yourself from him. The circumstances unfolding seemed like the actions of reverse spells, instead of concealing they were revealing who you both were. This was vexing to you both.

Despite his sincere words to you, Loki was not sure this troubled land was his final destination. He wondered if he should try and leave as soon as he was able. He was speaking with two tongues. Perhaps he should venture south, go to the Midgard places where panther Gods and pyramids covered in gold existed. Those people were said to do the bidding of the gods with even more ferocity than the Northmen.

Instead, he was sick with fever and stuck with a mysterious, beautiful, and angry woman, whose husband could return at any moment and kill him for what it looked like was happening, even in the middle of a possible invasion. Suddenly his reverie broke as you lifted his shirt to inspect his wound. Your worry for his fever could wait no longer.

"Lady," he said as he batted your hand away.

You protested back, “I have seen you already, why would you be shy now stranger? I need to check your wound, you are feverish,” you continued to pull up his shirt. His gash had indeed become weeping and likely the source of his fever. Whether you liked it or not, you were healing him once again it seemed.

“Wood betony, that is what you need, you are lucky I have some. I’ll see to it Elinor makes you a poultice, and then I am putting you in one of the downstairs bedrooms.” Your eyes were worried even if your words were not. Loki placed his weakened hand on your shoulder, and spoke solemnly, “You know, we need to find your husband.”

You turned your face from him, you didn’t want Loki to notice even the smallest bit of feeling.

“Of course, that is a good idea, this is his manor and his people after all,” you replied. “We can leave when the fever breaks and you can walk without me carrying half your weight,” there was the slightest tinge of playfulness in your words to your surprise. You hoped he did not notice.

As the day was moving into evening, the villagers whispered their suspicions about the stranger you aided. The darkened sky had unsettled them as much as the Northmen. Loki was right, without your husband the manor would devolve into chaos and this would leave the village even more vulnerable.

You watched Loki slowly drag his body to the downstairs bedroom and close the thick doors behind him before you had the chance to redirect him or wish him a good night. You thought better to tell him that he had gone into your husband’s bedroom not the servant’s quarters you had intended for him to rest.

You felt your stomach twist in knots. If your husband came home tonight the wrong impression you worried you would make, would surely be inevitable. You would have to go and move Loki once you were done with your chores. A prospect that left you even more anxious.

Finally, when everyone had gone to sleep and Elinor had gone to her quarters, you stood alone in the empty house contemplating what you should do next. Sleep seemed an impossibility. The eclipse had only been five minutes, but it disturbed the entire day. Now it was nearly midnight and it felt like morning. All time had shifted somehow. Loki sleeping in your husband's bedroom loomed in your head.

To quiet your thoughts you found yourself in the kitchen, sometimes cooking felt relaxing even if you were not good at it. Instead tonight you eyed the row of bottles on your shelf. There was something else calling to you. You grabbed a jar of mistletoe berries, and held them in your hands. Their color was startling.

Suddenly you busying yourself muddling them with the mortar and pestle. If there was a recipe to follow you did not know it, you pulled a few more bottles off the shelf and added the ingredients. Mullein leaves and blackberry.

Pausing for a moment you felt that Loki’s knife was still around your body, you had placed it in a leather holder diagonally across your chest, and forgotten it was there. The knife passed over your breasts and you couldn’t help but touch the length of it.

You hadn't the time to have paid much attention to it before. You noticed the unusual, rich craftsmanship. The inlay was extraordinary. Garnets and chrysoprase. You then gently pulled it out of the holder and carefully pricked your finger with the impossibly sharp tip. This action surprised you.

You inhaled deeply. Crimson blood rolled down your finger and into the stone mixing bowl. You placed your still bleeding fingertip into your mouth hoping to quickly stem the bleeding, but the knife had been too sharp, or you cut yourself too deep.

Quickly, you sucked the wound, blood filling your mouth. You spat the excess into the bowl and placed it on the windowsill, intuitively sensing it needed the moonlight. Just then you heard a deep voice behind you. You were frozen in place, unable to turn around. It was Loki.

"I had no idea you were a seer, you could have told me that sooner and it would have cleared things up," his words rich with sleep and something else.

When you finally turned around you saw he was only wearing his leather trousers and the poultice. Your heart produced a wild, unfamiliar beat, and you steadied yourself against the kitchen table. You weren't a seer, but you could not explain what you were just doing or what you were now feeling.

Before you could stop him, Loki took your mixture from the sill and drank it. "My gods what have you done?" the startled words fell out of your mouth as he placed the now empty bowl back into your hands.

[lurkingshan]

A Time Called You: A Great Reminder to Go Watch Someday or One Day 

This past weekend Netflix dropped a new kdrama called A Time Called You in its entirety, and I became particularly interested in watching it as soon as I realized what it was: the Korean remake of Someday or One Day I knew had been in the works for awhile. If you’re not familiar, Someday or One Day (SOOD) is a beloved 2019 Taiwanese drama that is widely considered to be among the best dramas the country has ever produced (there is also a 2022 film version of the story, but that’s less relevant to this post). Now, I love Korean dramas, and I know that countries remaking each other’s best shit is very common in the Asian media landscape, but I couldn’t help but feel protective of the original work and a bit resentful of the choice to adapt something that was so original and unique and specific and put that generic kdrama sheen on it. Taiwan has a small film industry, and this is one of its jewels. We didn’t need Korea’s take on it.

And having watched the adaptation in full now, I am feeling pretty justified in that initial feeling. Let me just say upfront: A Time Called You (ATCY) is a perfectly good drama with a solid cast and competent storytelling. Had I seen it absent the knowledge of what it was adapting, I probably would have liked it a lot. But I have already seen and loved Someday or One Day, so I feel compelled to break down why it is the better version of this tale, both for my fellow SOOD devotees who are wondering how this adaptation stacks up and for folks who have only seen the kdrama in the hopes that you’ll decide to watch the original. As usual, I did the most, so reader be advised that this is long (tagging @troubled-mind as promised and @smittenskitten because I saw you were looking for a comparison of the two dramas). TL; DR: if you liked ATCY, or have seen neither version and are wondering which to watch: go find Someday or One Day, because it’s an overall superior and more satisfying execution of the same story.

The Vibe

Let’s start here because it’s the most obvious and immediately striking thing as someone who has seen both versions. SOOD has a bit of a rough and unpolished feel, which makes it feel more grounded in reality (important when you are getting into fantasy elements like time travel but you still want the characters to feel like real people). We open our story in 1998 in a record shop with a young girl playing Last Dance by Wu Bai and China Blue, a 1996 mando pop rock ballad, and thus setting the tone—this will be a somewhat raw and bittersweet story about grief and hurt and longing that will invite us to wallow in our feelings. And that melancholic vibe stays throughout the drama, even in the explicitly happy scenes, because you are always aware that the joy you are seeing has already been lost. 

By contrast, ATCY feels… emotionally flat. Don’t get me wrong, it is a very faithful adaptation. The early episodes are practically a shot for shot remake of the original drama. But it’s too polished, too shiny. The filmmaking is bog standard kdrama fare; everything is soft focus and warmly lit and too beautiful and consequently nothing feels real. It feels right in line with the standard aesthetics of recent mainstream Korean dramas, and that choice undermines the emotional weight and grit of this story.

A great example of this can be seen in the way the two dramas handle the iconic scene where our female lead runs in the rain, looking back over her shoulder to smile in delight at the male lead before continuing on her way. This is a moment of realization for him about his feelings for her—one he will later immortalize in a painting that becomes part of the mystery of the past she is trying to unravel. In Someday or One Day, this scene takes place on a regular street, in the utterly mundane surroundings of their everyday lives as they walk home, and she runs down the middle of the road as puddles gather in the uneven pavement; in A Time Called Love, they are in a picturesque park for this scene, surrounded by green and encased within a grove of giant trees, and she runs right down the middle of a tree lane that looks like it came straight out of a fairytale. One story is very much about a love grounded in a reality we can recognize; the other is pure fantasy romance.

The Music 

I already mentioned the song that anchors the Taiwanese drama above. Last Dance is hugely important to the story, both thematically and as a plot device, and in its ability to set the mood and tone of the drama. 

The Korean remake similarly uses a real 1996 ballad as its main song and time travel mechanism: With My Tears by Seo Ji Won. And, uh, the vibe is a bit different. 

Discerning listeners might recognize this as one of the many classic love ballads performed by our favorite doctors by day, rock stars by night over on Hospital Playlist. It’s a perfectly fine song. But it sets quite a different tone for our story, doesn’t it? It also is meant to be a song that a teenage boy is hankering to listen to on cassette, and listen, I wasn’t living in Korea in 1996. I have no idea how culturally accurate that may be. I’m sure there were in fact baby Lee Ik Juns running around trying to get their hands on this cheesy love song. But the edgier sound of Last Dance definitely sounds more in line with something the teenage male lead would listen to and what the music is meant to convey. And frankly, since we hear this song about 30 times in the drama, it matters that Last Dance is just an objectively better song. 

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, because beyond the classic song each version chose to use as its centerpiece, there is also a stark difference in the quality and tone of each drama’s OSTs. Here is a compilation of the Someday or One Day tracks, including the utterly gorgeous main theme by Shi Shi. The music is hugely important in the Taiwanese drama and is used to set the mood as well as emphasize its themes, and the tracks feel specific to this story.

And here is a compilation of A Time Called You OSTs.

If you’re familiar with kdrama OSTs, you will recognize most of the artists on here, as well as some new covers of old songs. And again, the vibes are quite different. Whereas SOOD was very intentional and specific in its music choices, ATCY just sounds like every other kdrama. There is nothing on this tracklist that stands out or evokes the kind of feeling that the SOOD tracks do.

The Main Couple

The name and timeline situation in this show makes this section unnecessarily difficult, so let me just make a little reference sheet here: 

Someday or One Day

Alice Ke plays Yu Xuan (2019) and Yun Ru (1998)

Greg Hsu plays Quan Sheng (2019) and Zi Wei (1998)

A Time Called You

Jeon Yeo Been plays Jun Hee (2023) and Min Yu (1998)

Ahn Hyo Seop plays Yeun Jun (2023) and Si Heon (1998)

All of the actors here are seasoned and very good at their jobs, so I am not casting shade on any of them—they are executing their performances based on writing and directorial choices. But I cannot deny that the Taiwanese version of these characters are more compelling all around. In SOOD, the main characters have a real spark; despite the melancholic undertone of the story, there are moments of genuine joy and when they connect with each other, you feel why this bond is strong enough for them to find each other through time and despite all the trauma they endure. In ATCY, however, the characterizations are muted.

This is most evident in the difference between Quan Sheng/Zi Wei and Yeon Jun/Si Heon. Greg Hsu plays Zi Wei as magnetic, playful, mischievous, utterly lovable, and very intense about his feelings for his lady. He has a real joie de vivre about him that clearly brightens up Yu Xuan’s life considerably, and his devotion to her is not just shown, but deeply felt. Experiencing their memories, you understand immediately why Yu Xuan can’t move on from his death; he was the joyful, relaxed counterpoint to her more ambitious and serious personality. Si Heon, though? He is a nice dude and a generous partner and he is very good looking. But he doesn’t have the playfulness or the intensity that his Taiwanese counterpart does. His personality is just more moderate all around. One great example of this: upon discovering that he has traveled forward into the body of the person that would become Yu Xuan/Jun Hee’s boyfriend, Zi Wei (in Quan Sheng’s body now, are you still with me?) actively decides to find her, love her, and try to solve this time loop quagmire they are in; Si Heon (in Yeon Jun’s body) waits for a moment of fate to give him a sign, and only makes the decision to pursue Jun Hee after running into her by coincidence.

Similarly, Jun Hee is not quite as spunky and sassy as Yu Xuan and Min Yu is not as dark and awkward as Yun Ru; when Jun Hee travels to the past and takes up residence in Min Yu’s body, the differences between the two characters she is playing are not as evident. In SOOD, I could tell at a glance who is in Yun Ru’s body; in ATCY I need more context to be sure. Where Yun Ru had more of an edge, Min Yu simply reads very shy. It’s not as compelling. One scene that really stands out as an example of this: when Yun Ru is pretending to be Yu Xuan in 1998 and looks in the mirror to practice smiling, it looks downright creepy and sinister; when Min Yu is masquerading as Jun Hee and looks at herself in the mirror, she just looks awed and happy, if a bit awkward. It’s subtle, but it changes the way you feel about the characters. 

The difference in Jun Hee and Yeon Jun’s characterization also affects the couple chemistry, which is just not nearly as strong in ATCY. The characters are more muted and thus the expected sparks are more like smoldering embers. The relationship feels cozy and warm and nurturing, but it doesn’t feel vital. It doesn’t feel like the kind of relationship you would fight through time or break the rules of the universe to return to. I recall gasping or crying or laughing out loud throughout SOOD because I was constantly taken aback by Greg Hsu’s arresting presence and the chemistry he and Alice Ke generated was just emotionally riveting. When Yu Xuan told Zi Wei (as Quan Sheng) that they were officially together, that man literally jumped for joy and shouted out his love for her; Si Heon (as Yeon Jun) reacts to the same moment with a quiet smile and a hug. When Zi Wei saw Yu Xuan in Yun Ru’s body again in the finale, he knew instantly that it was her and the smile overtook his face as he reached for her; Si Heon initially called Min Ju’s name before getting closer and taking several beats to realize it was Jun Hee (ruining this iconic moment is perhaps this remake’s greatest sin against romance, my god). 

Everything between the couple in SOOD was just more, both in happiness and in despair. I liked Jun Hee and Si Heon, and Ahn Hyo Seop and Jeon Yeo Been are very competent actors whose performances I have loved in other dramas, but they didn’t achieve that level of chemistry here, the writing and directing choices worked against them, and I didn’t feel that same desperation for them to figure this out that I did with Yu Xuan and Zi Wei. 

The Story 

The Korean version is a very faithful adaptation overall (I haven’t mentioned Jun Jie and In Gyuk because his character and story is more consistent across the two shows), but does make some small tweaks to the story, some of which seem to be out of necessity due to a shorter run time (one episode and a couple hours total less than the Taiwanese original) and some just… because? The shorter amount of story time does lead to them having to cut corners on some aspects of the mythology and time travel lore, making it all a bit less clear for folks who don’t already understand what’s going on, and they put in a few nods to typical kdrama tropes like amusement park dates and hand of fate stuff that we really didn’t need—they are already trapped in a time loop together, we get it!

ATCY also messed with the timelines and ages for reasons I don’t really understand and that don’t really track. In SOOD, Zi Wei traveled forward from 2002 to Quan Sheng’s body in 2010, met Yu Xuan, and then died in 2018. In ATCY, Si Heon traveled forward from 2002 only to 2007 and did not die until 2022—but the relationship dynamics are all the same. It made sense for a young couple who had been together about 7 years and who were in their mid-20s to be having the kind of relationship problems they did—fighting about prioritizing careers and time abroad and whether it was time to get married. But a couple who has been together nearly 15 years? Who are in their mid-30s? They would have already been married probably and had a couple kids to boot. The choice to change the timeline like this had me scratching my head and accomplished nothing for the story. 

But neither of those things are the change to the story that is weighing on me most. That occurs in a very small and brief backstory for the real Yeon Jun, where the drama introduces an original character who has no counterpart in SOOD: Tae Ha. 

In SOOD, the real Quan Sheng is a closeted gay teenager who meets a tragic end: he confesses to his crush, gets brutally rejected, then gets bullied when the crush tells others about his sexuality, and ultimately decides to walk into the sea in an attempt to end his life, a choice that leaves his body in a coma until Zi Wei’s consciousness takes it over. In ATCY, this backstory changes and Rowoon is brought in for a brief but impactful cameo as Tae Ha, Yeon Jun’s cram school friend. We see that the two have mutual feelings for each other but are both struggling to confess. One day as they are driving together, they finally explicitly acknowledge their feelings, holding hands and smiling at one another—and then immediately get hit by a Truck of Doom (easily one of the most tired kdrama tropes), Tae Ha dying on impact and Yeon Jun ending up in a coma with Si Heon’s consciousness eventually taking over his body like in the original story. 

Now on first glance, you might be inclined to give the show some credit for including a new gay character and giving the original Yeon Jun a happier experience with his crush. Explicit gay representation? In a mainstream kdrama? Still very rare and a big deal if done right. But if you think for a moment longer you’ll realize we can’t give the show credit for this, because this is a textbook execution of the Bury Your Gays trope and the narrative punishment that befalls gay characters who act on their attraction. Essentially, what the Korean remake did here was reveal these two characters are gay, killed them both immediately after they decided to pursue a relationship with each other, and then had the het male lead character take over the body of this gay man and use it to enter into a relationship with a woman. Some aspects of this plot were present in the original tale, but this choice to add an additional gay character only to kill him and tie it to their moment of acknowledging their mutual attraction? Made it significantly worse. It was badly done and I will not applaud the drama for representation when they did it in such a cruel way. 

The Ending

SOOD ends on a hopeful but somewhat ambiguous note, with Yu Xuan in 2020 finding a way to go back and save Yun Ru (and Jun Jie by extension) and then breaking the time loop, sacrificing her relationship with Zi Wei in the process even as it breaks her heart (because the only way for them to meet and fall in love in 2010 was to stay in the loop). She sacrifices their romance, and all their memories together, because it’s the right thing to do—she inadvertently destroyed Yun Ru’s life with her time traveling, and she couldn’t live with that knowing there was a way to fix it. We are left with a broken time loop, original teen Zi Wei meeting child Yu Xuan again in 1998, and the hope that they will find a way to make their fates align again and be together without time travel complications. It’s just the right bittersweet touch to end the story on; their previous relationship was lost and their sacrifice was real, but there is hope for another version of a happy life together, someday.

By contrast, ATCY goes for a more explicit happy ending: Jun Hee makes the same choice to go back and save Min Ju, and to break the time loop and sacrifice her relationship with Si Heon, but in ATCY we then jump forward to 2011 to a happy epilogue to see Si Heon and Jun Hee meet as adults. And look, I love a happy ending! But what I said above about the sacrifice Yu Xuan and Zi Wei made in SOOD really resonating because of its bittersweet ending? That’s absent here, because ATCY decided they needed to put a bow on it and reassure us they would get back together. ATCY was just never willing to let us stay in the grief or commit to the darker and sadder aspects of this story, and as a result, the whole thing loses some of its impact.