#you don’t write and play a character for 18 years and not fall in love with them yk

[charmac]

x

[temptaetions]

angel eyes 🪽 b.cc (m)

a/n: the photo above is from stray kids' skz magic school shoot. i don’t own the media. i clearly got carried away writing this, because it's so long. however, i hope you guys enjoy it. obviously none of this is real...so does accuracy matter?

✩ spellbound secrets series m.list

✩ synopsis: you’ll think you’re in paradise, and one day you’ll find out he wears a disguise, don’t look too deep…

✩ genre: idiots to lovers | love epiphany au | teacher x student

✩ pairing: ??? b.cc x fem!compassion conjurer!reader

✩ word count: 21.6k | lowercase intended.

✩ rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

✩ warning(s): quite a few time skips. minor character death, mentions of a car accident, semi descriptive. y/n has a scar across her body (not self inflicted, how it was inflicted is not described), both y/n and chan have unresolved issues with love, chan's kind of a dick in the beginning. swearing, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of blood, y/n has a medical episode, once more horribly written smut [between b.cc x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, oral (f. receiving...he starts eating it thru the panties LOL), so much kissing, some (nude) grinding, missionary (because i'm an emotional bitch), light nipple play (clothed), crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, some biting, light choking (m. receiving), a bit of alluding to sex as 'extra credit' and subtly feeding the professor x student power dynamic]. (more information about y/n: she glows, kind of like a glowstick, and she can float around instead of walking.)

✩ what to listen to: angel eyes - abba | the chain - fleetwood mac | bodyache - purity ache | if it isn't love - new edition | cherish the day - sade

tuesday – november 02.

it's slow, the fall. it feels like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement. 

he's been lost before - in grocery stores, not understanding assignments. shit, he's even been lost in the woods before. he knows what it's like to be lost, physically. he knows what it's like to not know what his emotions mean, either, so that also counts in his book.

but this? this feeling that he's just wandering the world? not knowing where his purpose lies, or what he's meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose? this is a feeling of damn near disorientation, isolation, off fucking course. it's all the same anyway. everything is the same, nearly everyday.

he wakes up, brushes his teeth. greets changbin and hyunjin at the table for breakfast, and gets ready for the day. goes to class, daydreams. he comes home, has lunch with jisung sometimes, and goes to the gym with changbin at seven-thirty. every few fridays, he'll go to one of the university baseball games, cheering on seungmin and jisung while sharing nachos with his ex-fling, sooyoung, and her best friend (who so happened to be seungmin's former girlfriend.) then, he's home again, he showers, he sleeps for a few hours.

every. single. day.

he gets bored, but reminds himself he needs to find peace in the routine. it's all he knows – he doesn't know what's keeping him here, but he's aware it's something. everyone knows it's something, but have no answers for him. he's sought after so many master sorcerers across all dimensions, begging to find an end to his equation, but to no avail.

he has no idea who he is, or what purpose he serves, and he pretends he's okay with it. he soothes by saying that not all can be known.

he pretends it's fine as he goes through his days, as he goes to class, as he talks to girls. he doesn't feel much of anything when he does these things, but the women he speaks to certainly do. they grin from ear to ear, like cheshire cats, when they get a moment to speak to the uncertainty that is bang chan.

but, it's fine. he's fine, it's really not a big deal.

he's in his last year of grad school, hoping to just bury himself in his studies to stop the feeling of impending doom. normally, you open up shop right after undergrad. you offer your services, barter for goods, sometimes get paid in a goat and two chickens instead of money. so many of his friends have already done so, relishing in the satisfaction that is being a sorcerer and mastering their craft. 

what the fuck is he supposed to do? study until his fingers fall off and his brain becomes putty?

"i dunno, man. you could become a genius." jisung spoke around a mouthful of blueberries, and chan grimaced. "what? i'm bulking up!" shaking his head, chan closed his notebook. shoving it into his bookbag, he sighs. "i don't think i want to know everything there is to know, ji."

"doesn't knowing everything you need to know, start with knowing yourself?" minho teases from across the table, winking at jisung over his coffee cup. the younger boy nearly chokes, getting a whack across the back to aid in not seeing god. "don't flirt with him, he'll have an aneurysm." "hey!" jisung sputters, but the three of them know it's true. how jisung was the campus' playboy, no one would ever know. chan didn't even know if jisung could read when they first met. "you know it's true, ji. i gotta head out, i have a night class this semester with professor y/l/n, i finally got my schedule fixed. changbin is going to hate me because i'm going to miss the gym every tuesday and thursday." chan groans as he swings his bag over his shoulder, and the two men watch as he slides his headphones on, walking out of the library.

he's insufferable lately, and they don't know why. they assume he needs to kiss someone, preferably sooner rather than later.

"you think the poor guy knows what he's in for?" minho mumbles, closing his textbook. jisung shakes his head, popping another blueberry in his mouth. "i hear she's ruthless. i mean, if i was an anomalistic prodigy with gorgeous thighs like hers, i would be, too." "shut up, you can't even kill spiders."

your classroom is surprisingly cozy as he strolls in. the lights are dimmed, and there are blankets draped across many chairs. he looks around, spotting a green couch in the back. raising his eyebrows, he makes a beeline for it, hearing other people start to trickle in.

setting up his laptop on the table before him, he lets his eyes wander.

the walls are plastered with entomology posters, and he scrunches his nose as he sees a taxidermied praying mantis on your desk. he remembers what you said in your speech at your commencement ceremony – "the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide. a guide for those who needed direction, and my god, have i needed it. life truly does go on and i am further amazed by how deeply it fills me with joy to stand here before you. the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide, and i am so honored to be the mantis that prays for you."

you were the university's little treat, their trophy to parade. their only compassion conjurer and possessor of the will to practice benevolent magic. you cared of nothing more but to help those around you, you never said no. you never denied yourself to be utilized to find peace. he admired you, but not really. it was twisted, but he thinks you should…help yourself. he believes you should be selfish, at least once in a while.

he didn't really know you, but he hadn't expected to, either. you seemed like you were constantly on the go. you floated about, sort of like a ghost. your hands often clasped behind your back, a warm golden glow surrounding you. he'd heard from some people that they've seen it change color, but he never has.

but again, he didn't know you.

"chan!"

the voice whips him out of his thoughts, and he looks up to see yugyeom. he smiles, reaching his hand out for a dap from his oldest friend. "hey! how have you been? still on the baseball team?" "nah, i quit after i started dating doyeon. apparently, she has quite the track record with the team." he whistles, pulling out his laptop as he slides on the couch. "you quit the team for a girl?" chan questions, and yugyeom gives him a shy smile.

"she's not just any girl, chan. i think…she could be the one." he shrugs, a blush coating his cheeks as chan bumps his shoulder. "aww, that's so gross."

"shut up. what happened with you and sooyoung? did you guys break it off?" yugyeom takes a sip of his water, and chan nods as he sees more people walk in and take their seats. "yeah, we stopped fucking around. i wasn't as emotionally invested as she was, and i felt awful for it but we ended on good terms. i'm just not ready for a relationship and i should have made that clear. that was months ago, though, and we're fine." he shrugs, and feels an odd shiver down his spine. he shakes it off, continuing the casual conversation with yugyeom.

the door opens, and they both stop talking to look up. you're floating in gracefully, dark hair framing your face, a few scattered gold strands sprouting at the crown of your head. a bit like a halo, really. long, wine red nails reach for the light switch, dimming the lights even lower.

"good evening, everyone. eyes up front, please." your voice is softer than at your ceremony, but just as confident. you're looking around, your glow dimming lightly as your eyes stop in his direction. chan's eyes flicker to yugyeom, who is smiling at his phone, thumbs typing rapid fire. shaking his head, he looks up at you, your gaze on yugyeom. chan bumps his foot, and his head shoots up. your eyes are slightly amused, "you're paying for this class. i suggest you pay attention." "sorry." he slides his phone in his jacket, and chan bites back a laugh as he clicks his pen. smiling, you redirect your attention. "welcome to identity theory! i'm professor y/l/n, but you guys can call me y/n. you might already know me, as i'm the university's only compassion conjurer, and that is exactly why i'm teaching this class." you hold up the syllabus, and begin walking around to pass them out.

"this is an extension course to the one you took in undergrad, self-discovery 101. here, we are going to further delve into ourselves, and figure out who we are outside of our powers, or what purpose they serve. i like to focus on eudaimonic theory, but if you guys have any others you want to talk about, i'm open for discussion. i also want to apologize for starting the class so late in the year. i promise the workload isn't much, i was just having a hard time deciding if i wanted to teach this class. i wouldn't be doing much soul searching with you guys, i'm already the trophy wife of the administration."

he likes your voice. it's smooth, unwavering even as you apologize and joke, even as you let your feet touch the ground. he feels his chest grow hot as you graze everyone's table with your fingers, a soft chatter beginning amongst the students. he's not nervous, but you're very commanding. he likes the way you grab attention, despite it now seemingly about to be directed to someone in the room.

"your eyes are very pretty." you stop in front of him, and the class grows quiet. you look down at him, the soft light around you a little brighter. he feels his cheeks flush, as he nods in confusion. "do they glow brighter the more i make you nervous?" you tease, and he looks away.

"cute." you slide his syllabus in front of him, and he takes it with a soft thank you.

his eyes were the only thing that gave him that something that people always mentioned. they swirled, every now and again, the brown glowing slightly violet at their own will. nobody knew what it was, but it seemed to take your interest. you move forward with the lecture, not even attempting to hide the subtle boredom in your voice as you go over the syllabus.

"i will see you all on thursday! have a safe night!" you cheer, and the students seem to bask in your happiness as you let them out of the room. you float about, and catch chan at the tail end of the gaggle of students. "you, pretty eyes."

his headphones are in the way, and you place your hand on his arm. his skin is warm to the touch, and he jumps at the contact before turning around, sliding them off. "oh, i'm sorry. did you need me?" "i just wanted to say, i hope my teasing didn't make you uncomfortable. sometimes it just slips out." you smile, and you notice one..two dimples make their presence on his cheeks. "don't worry, it's alright. is that all?" "no, actually." you hold up his file, and he seems to know exactly what's coming. "i don't know my abilities, if that's what you're going to ask. and i won't answer any questions about my parents, that's also in there."

his eyes hold something heavy, and you notice your glow dim as he speaks. if he does, he doesn't mention it. "alright, then i guess that's it. i'm sorry if i disturbed some emotional blockage." your brows furrow lightly, and he raises his own.

"whatever." he mumbles, and slides his headphones back on. he walks away, and you feel your lips tug into a frown. you wonder what his problem is as you walk back into your classroom, sliding the file into your desk drawer.

"you try and make a classroom a home." 

thursday – november 12.

from: yln.yn@spellbound.edu

hello, chan. this is professor y/l/n. i noticed you didn't show up to class last thursday, tuesday, or tonight.

i took it upon myself to look into your file again, with permission from the administration. i want to apologize for the sudden hot seat on tuesday after class, i was unaware of your situation and just wanted some insight. i can see how this made you uncomfortable, and i am sorry for causing said discomfort. i want you to be able to enjoy my class, and hopefully we can traverse that journey together.

that being said, i have come up with a new assignment for you, for the time being. since you don't really know what your specialties are, i can't grade based on performance or any papers delving into how they affect your life, personality, etc.

below is the rubric designed for this assignment. i spoke to the administration, and they're on board with this approach. if anything is too much, please don't hesitate to send me an email, or a text. my number is also below. have a good weekend!

signed,

y/n y/l/n

identity theory

spellbound institute of magic

psychology department

555-8212

he's been staring at this email for the last half hour. he even let hyunjin read over it, asking if he was seeing shit.

he'd skipped your class on thursday, and today. he didn't want to see you, so he avoided the psych hall altogether. he didn't really know how to feel as he switched tabs to the rubric you'd sent, essentially just saying you wanted an essay on how he's been coping with not being sure of his path in life.

how does he feel about it? does it bother him, and if he could pick, which abilities would he pick? his brain says the ability to never see you again, but his heart pangs as he rereads the postscript at the bottom of your email.

p.s. i am once again very sorry. i hope to see you in class on thursday, channie. - y/n

channie. ugh, his heart ached. he'd been so rude.

"you're thinking too hard." changbin sings from the living room, and chan sighs. "how would you know? you can't read minds." he rolls his eyes, shutting his laptop. changbin walks into the dining room, leaning over the back of a chair. "i know that look. the furrowed brows, the pout. you're thinking way too hard about this, and it was an honest mistake on your professor's part. you need to apologize, you grumpy bitch." "yeah, i don't really think it's a huge deal, either." hyunjin chimes in from the kitchen, and chan frowns. "you guys think i'm being overdramatic?" "i think your emotional repression is getting to you, you've been so insufferable lately. when's the last time you got laid?" hyunjin teases as he slides into a chair, and changbin wiggles his brows in agreement. "ugh, don't even." chan slumps his head against the wall. maybe seven months? he has a lot of pent up frustration. maybe not enough to write about his feelings and how annoyed it made him that you were digging into his life this early into him meeting you. what did you need to know, anyway? "isn't your professor that compassion conjurer paradigm? i heard the speech she gave at the convention last year, and i saw the photos. she's gorgeous, that glow around her all the time?" changbin whistles smoothly, and chan's stomach does a flip. he also saw the photos, but couldn't bring himself to think anything of them. he barely remembers watching your speech, too, but he certainly remembers the way your hips swayed as you walked off the stage.

he grimaces, feeling a bit gross at ogling you.

"she's fine." he shrugs, and changbin gives hyunjin a knowing look. "so, she's hot and you're into her. that's why she has you so worked up."

"i beg your finest fucking pardon, seo?" chan blinks, and hyunjin smirks. "then beg, channie. i'm sure professor y/l/n would like it if you did, she seems like the type. get on some dating apps, man. you need stress relief." chan scoffs, shoving his laptop into his backpack. "i'll be in my room, if you decide to stop talking about romancing my professor."

hyunjin and changbin snicker as chan storms off, his door slamming behind him as he flops onto his bed. sure, you were…okay. okay, you're hot. you're so fucking hot.

but, he doesn't like you. he doesn't like that you put him on the spot, and he doesn't like that you intended to ask so many personal questions right off the bat. he also doesn't like that his roommates are probably right – he probably is angry because he needs to get laid.

he groans into his pillow, fishing his phone out of his pocket. he unlocks it, opening the stupid app. "spellbound soulmates, how dumb." he mutters, unpausing his profile. he goes through it, updating photos and prompts. once he's satisfied, he goes to his deck.

left. left. left. left. right. right. left. left.

y/n, 26

compassion conjurer, benevolence magic

biography: sexy as fuck by day, sexy psych prof by night. everything you've heard is true.

interests: if your ass is phat, swipe right 🥵

his eyes widen, your smiling face staring back at him. scrolling through your profile, he sees mostly modest photos – you holding a tray of shots being the most scandalous. not a sliver of skin showing above your waist, but plenty of short skirts showing off your full thighs. you're smiling in every photo, but he can't think of anything except your lips parted, your thighs around his head. moaning his name.

alright, chris. he thinks. chill the fuck out.

he contemplates it for a bit, scrolling up and down your profile when he just shakes his head, closing the app and tossing his phone to the side. he flips onto his back, letting the pillow close around his ears.

he hates to admit it, because he doesn't know you. he doesn't dislike you, per say. but he's not very fond of your subtle insistence.

it's not necessarily your fault, but he really doesn't like talking about his family, especially his parents. only his friends know, and even then, it took all of four years to even bring it up. the fact that they're humans is a huge deal, and he can't risk their safety like that.

not to mention, admissions begged him to keep it a secret. they were toeing the line, chan being the third person in the university's history to have human parents. they knew about the world of magic, but didn't really have the abilities to take care of chan the way it was necessary.

so they didn't. they sent him to boarding school from a young age, and made it a point to frequently visit him. he sees them at least four times a year, but it's never enough time. he feels like he's missing a place to call home. 

he feels so alone.

it's not your fault. and he knows he needs to apologize. he just has too much pride right now.

he hears a knock, and changbin opens the door. "hey, what are you doing? i'm going to the gym, want to come with?" chan sighs, before forcing himself out of bed.

tuesday – november 17.

he's sitting on your couch today.

legs spread, hair tucked under a cap. black, like the rest of his clothes. he looks relaxed, his fingers dancing across his laptop as yugyeom shows him something on his phone. he just nods, and you can't make out what his lips say. 

you'd been feeling terrible about the events of last week, and hadn't gotten so much as an email from him. not about the assignment, not about how he clearly hates you, or even addressing your apology. you didn't understand him, but you don't know him, either.

the past three classes, you'd gotten to know your students. minnie, soyeon and shuhua were your favorite (and only) group, giggling in the corner over their laptops. they were all herbomancers, and you could tell simply based on how giggly they were. they chatted, and last thursday, shuhua was so high she just sat against her chair and stared into the abyss. you found it a little funny, when soyeon and minnie would have to drag her out of your class.

mingyu was a constant flirt, and you attributed it to his matchmaking expertise. he was one of the few cupidancers on campus, and you'd seen him about before. he had the ability to entrance people, to get them high off his attention, and you often saw girls with hearts in their eyes after speaking to him. it was quite the sight, to see someone emotionally orgasm. the fact that you were his professor didn't stop him from smiling at you, making suggestive comments, overall trying to weasel into your heart. you simply played his game, making him flustered.

yugyeom was too enthralled with his phone, and his girlfriend, to complete the assignments. the fact that minnie had slid eighty dollars his way told you his spirit weaving ways were some for the books – and so did minnie – as she rambled about a party at beta tau that past weekend. "you should come sometime, y/n. you'd get so wasted but it'd be so worth it."

you liked that they felt so at ease with you, speaking to you like you were nothing special. you liked being their age, being able to relate to the crazy parties and not worry about how you'd get home the morning after. you enjoyed the intimacy of the small class, but not the coldness surrounding who you would deem your most intriguing student.

he just sits there and he looks so nice. the slope of his neck, the way his fingers bounce on the keys of his laptop. the sheen of his lips from the cherry lip balm he applies three or four times over the two hours of your class. the way your hue almost changes from gold to pink from staring at him, and you know you catch some of their eyes as it tries.

"why do you glow, y/n?" you can hear minnie's hazy voice from the back of the room, and you feel yourself a bit dimmer than usual as you fight down the feelings of lust. "i actually don't know. the master sorcerers never told me, but i know it can be several different colors. care to ask me what they mean?" you wiggle your brows, and minnie giggles.

"pink means you're turned on, huh?" mingyu calls from his seat between shuhua and soyeon, earning a smack from both of them. you chuckle as he pouts, "what? i hooked up with a compassion conjurer last year in the second dimension, forgive me for assuming." "i thought you were bitchless, gyu? what a nice surprise, loverboy." shuhua teases, and mingyu just rolls his eyes. "well, he's not wrong."

their heads whip back to you, and you're purposely glowing gold. you're glad they don't make it weird, their eyes full of glee. "i know those sex flashbacks gotta be good, y/n." minnie giggles, and sighs dreamily. "i once got one in undergrad during the ochem final. i ran out of time and failed."

you laugh, floating closer to their table. "the colors mean a lot of things. i can also change them at will, if one isn't overpowering the other. the hues and brightness also amplify how i feel, which makes it really hard to hide any of my thoughts. for example," you pause, closing your eyes. you feel the warmth of blue overtake you, and hear a soft ooh. 

opening your eyes, you give a quick spin. "blue means i'm sad, disappointed, or at ease. i rarely get this one, it usually happens when i'm with my closest friends and can act on impulse."

the quartet looks amazed as you continue to change colors, explaining them slowly.

green, for envy, and disgust. you also rarely turn this color, and it is amongst the most dim that you've ever been. pink, for lust. you say it's your favorite color, but not your favorite feeling. orange for anger, and you recall that you only turned this color when in your mother's presence, and that you hated this one. silver, for remembrance and emptiness, and they don't require an explanation as the light grows brighter, your face deepening in sadness before you shake your head.

you exhale, before letting the cold of indigo overtake you. they gasp, and you feel shivers rack your body before you can finally speak.

"this is the only one i don't understand. i can make it seem darker, too." you say calmly, eyeing the dimness of it. it glowed almost like a blacklight, and at your will, it turned a deep violet, lining your extremities in black pixels. "have you ever felt it before?" soyeon pops a piece of gum in her mouth, offering a piece to you. taking one gently, you shrug as you unwrap it.

"nope. this one feels cold, though. the others feel warmer, like a blanket. this is like, sub-zero temperatures." you slide the piece into your mouth, feeling your golden glow return as you speak. "that's so cool, though. thank you for sharing." shuhua is gazing at you, fondness riddled in her eyes. you feel your cheeks heat, as you smile.

"my pleasure. class is over in twenty minutes, so wrap up whatever it is you're doing and i might let you guys dip out early." you nod at them, floating in the direction of yugyeom and chan. looking up from your gum wrapper, you see chan looking at you intently, his eyes slightly swirling with that same violet glow from tuesday.

"hey, pretty eyes. so kind of you to grace us with your presence today." your teasing makes him grimace, a hint of annoyance flashing through his eyes. "paying for the class, might as well pay attention." he mutters, echoing the first words you said to yugyeom.

your brows furrow at his attitude, and you watch yugyeom slip away, beckoned by minnie with a piece of pink paper. chan glances at you, closing his laptop and shoving it in his bag with indignance. "why are you acting like this? i already apologized." you feel your glow flash orange, before feeling the soft tinge of blue creeping up your back. his eyes are still violet, but they've softened. "i'm just trying to help you, chan."

"i don't think you can help, when you're part of the problem." he mumbles, his gaze never moving from your eyes. you sense blue creeping up your neck, and succumb to it, letting it blaze. "how disappointing, for a teacher to try and aid you in finding your path of life." your annoyance is visible as you spin, directing your attention to the gaggle of students watching your interaction. soyeon's eyes are wide as you dismiss them, asking them to please let the door close instead of leaving it propped open.

the words aren't even out of your mouth when you hear the door slam, yugyeom pitiful eyes confirming your thoughts. they begin to stand up, heading for the door when yugyeom splits from them, circling back to you.

"don't worry about chan. he's being a dick, it's not your fault." he places a hand on your shoulder, and you give him a sad smile. "i know, yug. i know."

a soft squeeze to your shoulder and he's gone, you're alone in your room. you sigh deeply, letting the most overwhelming hue of all take over.

the same dark red you felt all those years ago, letting it overwhelm you entirely. you sink into your desk chair, letting the soft burn of grief sink into your skin. you can close your eyes and still see it, the wine color in front of you. the one that matches your nails, and on occasion, your lipstick. the one that makes you ache the most, and yearn for those who are no longer here.

you miss him.

just like you miss chan's wide eyes, not having heard the creak of the wooden door in your turmoil. he slips away.

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

later that night, you're sitting in your bathtub, letting the hot water relax your muscles. you hear your phone ping, and you reach for it.

from: bangchan@spellbound.edu

hello, professor y/l/n. i have read your email a few times since it was sent.

i accept your apology. i also accept this assignment, and will submit it as my final project grade, as per the rubric allows.

that being said, i will not be in class on thursday due to a prior commitment. feel free to email me back with any questions you may have, only those regarding the assignment will be answered.

signed,

bang christopher chan

spellbound institute of magic

general magic

you glare at the email, and let orange flicker like the light of your limoncello candle. you made no effort to question it, simply letting it slide. you send back an automated reply, sounds good! have a good weekend.

thursday – november 19.

chan hated meeting his parents in secret.

like it were a crime, to want to see them. he hated acting like it didn’t bother him that his siblings were growing up and he didn’t know them, he didn’t know what they liked, or what they did for fun. he felt so left out of everything, but still framed the photos they sent him. he still tucked their letters in a box for safe keeping, he still yearned to be loved by them.

not that they didn’t love him, but obviously it’s hard to do so from a distance. so they sit in the middle of the forest that surrounds the university, exactly 50 miles from all civilization. they sit there, for hours, and catch up.

“any luck yet?” his father peers at chan over a steaming plate of food, and he shakes his head. “no answers yet. if i don’t find out before the end of the semester, the master sorcerers said they’d figure something out.”

his mother sighs, her spoon stirring the canteen that held her warm coffee. "it'll be alright soon, channie. have you focused on other things? maybe find a nice girl to settle down with?" his father watches as chan visibly tenses, before pulling his wife close. "jagi, maybe that's for another time." she grimaces.

"i disagree. if he's having issues with other parts of his life, he needs to put it on the back burner for a second and figure out other parts. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? the goal of life is to not let one bad thing, or one disappointing moment deter you from finding the answer to your qualms." she rolls her eyes, earning a smile from her husband.

"okay, she has a point." his father relents, and chan just shakes his head. "i'm not ready for a relationship.' "what about that girl, sooyoung?" his mother won't back down and he knows that. "moving on from my love life, i'm content. i'm fine with things, i have my friends, i have my studies. i'll get an answer eventually." he shrugs, trying not to let it show how much it gets to him.

"chan." she slides her arm across the picnic table, grasping his hand gently. "you're not happy. you can't possibly be, with all the turmoil you feel. you're like an angsty teenager who has never stepped outside his room." "yeah, well. life goes on." he mutters, and she feels her heart sink as he pulls his hand away, checking the time on his watch. "i think i'd better start heading back. i have an early day tomorrow." he's lying. they know it, but they begrudgingly allow him to bid them goodbye. they watch him 

walk to his car, and flash his hi-beams as a final farewell before pulling off.

thursday - november 26.

it's been about a month since chan started taking your class. 

and it's been about a month since he's been able to say a single word to you without the same tone of indignance on the tip of his tongue. seeing him look indifferent in the back of your classroom made it all the better, though, because at least now he was in class. he didn't speak to you unless you spoke to him first, but he was on time and attentive.

you liked something about him, but you didn't really know what. it's quite possible you just have a little lustful wishing for him, but it felt…weird. it felt strange, you could practically feel your skin on fire every time you glanced at him, catching his eyes every once in a while. he never held the gaze for longer than a few seconds. 

as for his violet eyes, you hadn't seen them since. you saw him smile with yugyeom. you've heard him laugh, the sound so sweet to your ears. you hated that your glow was so evident when his giggle resounded in the classroom.

you thought nobody noticed, the students didn't treat you any differently than their own friends. soyeon, minnie and shuhua made it a point to start inviting you out to drinks, and mingyu flirted with you relentlessly. you simply took the interactions in stride, and smiled politely as you kept the lectures going.

but tonight? chan wasn't in class (again) so you didn't have anyone to fawn over. mingyu was front and center, and the girls gathered around him as they conspired amongst themselves. they weren't very secretive, and you could hear them giggling as you floated over.

"what's the joke? i want to laugh, too." you teased with a soft smile, and mingyu flashed you his pearly whites before turning his phone at you.

message from: doyeon

[9:03pm] hey mingyu! tell yug i'm waiting for him at the party, and bring the girls with you!

[9:04pm] see if you can convince your professor to come, too 👀 i've seen her and she's hot! maybe she can take eunwoo off our hands, i'm sick of him moping over jisoo

you chuckle, your glow brightening a bit. "you guys want me to go to a party, at a frat house, on a school night?" shuhua nods her head, a giggle falling from her lips. "c'mon, y/n! live a little, there's going to be so many cute boys there." 

"yeah, y/n! plus, a little bird told me a certain purple eyed boy will be there." minnie wiggles her brows at you, and you smirk. "yeah? chan skipped my class for a party?" you glance at his empty spot on the couch, your glow dimming.

"c'mon, y/n. we all know you have the hots for him." mingyu says matter-of-factly, and you laugh. "i do not! he doesn't even speak in class, i don't know anything about him." you shrug, and mingyu smirks. "i've seen the way you look at him!" minnie chimes in, and you shake your head. "so what if you don't? he's hot and you're into that. he has nice muscles, i've seen him at the gym." mingyu sounds like he's trying to convince you, and you give him a smile before patting his shoulder. his cheeks tinge as you whisper, "are they as nice as yours?" soyeon teases mingyu as you float away, and their words stay with you as the class continues for another forty minutes. you type away at your desk as you bid them goodbye, but don't miss minnie sneaking away from her group to hand you a piece of pink paper.

"the address, in case you do want to see chan tonight." she slides it across the desk, a shy smile playing on her lips as she walks away. you glance at it, grimacing at the beta tau seal.

you sigh, pulling your phone to map the walk there from your apartment, receiving a text from your friend, jihyo.

message from: jihyo <3

[9:55pm] hey, you! come with me to a party, i want to scout for booty tonight 👀 i heard beta tau is having one

message to: jihyo <3

[9:57pm] funnily enough, i was about to text you, i got an invite. captain booty reporting for duty 🫡 wear something hot!

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

the party was already in full swing when you and jihyo arrived, pinkies linked. it was apparently a student's birthday party, a short stop on the baseball team. you didn't keep up with the university's sports, but managed to snag a piece of birthday cake in a cup (meaning you dumped the rest of the pink whitney into your cup, and a splash of lemonade) as you let jihyo roam.

"y/n, you made it! you look so hot." you hear minnie from behind you, and you swirl to see her holding onto mingyu. "hey, guys! sick party, my friend jihyo also wanted to come." you shrug, taking a sip from your cup, and minnie gives you a knowing smile.

"hey, don't worry about it. lover boy hasn't kissed anyone since he's been here." minnie moves her head in the direction behind you, and you twist to see chan holding a red solo cup and talking to another student, short with wire rimmed glasses, and a waist you could only dream of. you turn back to minnie, who just winks at you before pulling mingyu away with her.

your body twists to look at chan, trailing your eyes down his figure. he's got on a white muscle tee, and mingyu had not been lying about his body at all. his chest donned what seems to be a rosary, nestled between his pecs that bounced lightly as he laughed. a sliver of his lower stomach was visible, mostly covered by a jacket he likely took off, but the red on the lapels looked good against his skin. silver hoops looped through his lobes and if you didn't sink your teeth into him soon, you were going to combust.

you don't have a crush on chan. not in the slightest. but, you're not blind.

you decided to worm your way to the bathroom, but you didn't realize his friend had spotted you staring. nor that chan's eyes were on you now, wondering what you were doing at a party on a school night, in that short black skirt and soft, flimsy blouse – with no bra. his eyes roll, asking himself why you manage to torture him this way. your coat is long, and covers most of your thighs as you walk away. he winces at the twitch of his cock against his pants.

"professor! what are you doing here!" you hear yugyeom shout from across the room, eliciting a woo from all the people at the party. you smile, and hold up your cup. "hey, yug!"

he waves you over, and you oblige, downing the rest of your drink. "here, try this! i made it." he holds up a long, brown bottle – and you smirk, letting him pour it into your mouth. a bunch of students are watching you down this burning liquor without a second thought, a low whistle emitting from one in particular.

tall, handsome. nicely chiseled face, hair slicked back. barely dressed. slutty.

not chan.

"who invited the trophy wife of the administration? that was hot as fuck." he leans on soyeon, who huffs and shoves him off. "shut up, san."

minnie screams before you can answer. "i invited her! she's cool as fuck, drinks up and tits out for professor y/l/n! wooo!" the crowd that had formed around you took their drinks, a few girls flashing their breasts at you. you let a laugh rip through you when you spot jihyo smiling at you in the crowd before knocking back the rest of her drink. you point to the hallway, signaling you're going to continue your way to a bathroom, before you suffocate on the smell of buchanan's and cheap beer.

the house gets quieter the deeper you go, aside from soft moans coming from a linen closet, obscene wet noises making you shiver as you turn left, finding a clean bathroom. you leave the door slightly ajar as you splash cool water on your cheeks. you let it drip through your lashes before you grab for the toilet roll, only to see someone slip into the bathroom in the mirror. 

"hey." chan's voice is low as you pat the toilet paper on your face, and you glance at him. "hey. skipped my class for a party, huh?" "what are you doing here?" he doesn't sound upset, moreso amused. his eyes shamelessly rake up your legs, and you give a snort in reply. "minnie invited me, and my friend jihyo wanted to scope out some ass." 

"yeah?" his eyes flicker to yours in the mirror, the violet swirl evident, and you feel your thighs clench in his gaze. your glow starts to change hues, and you roll your eyes as you glow pink instead of your normal yellow. "yeah. why, channie? are you here looking for babes?" you turn, letting the liquor talk as you lean against the sink.

"would it bother you if i was?" he tilts his head, sort of like a lost puppy. you smirk, shaking your head. "why would it bother me if my student wants to get some?" "do you always play this little game with your students, professor?" he takes a step closer, and you curse yourself for glowing a little brighter, but shrug as nonchalantly as you can. "beats being uptight like professor callaghan."

"god, you're so right." he chuckles, before his hands cage you in between his body and the sink. "i bet this glow thing gets really annoying, huh?" "you have no idea." you look up into his eyes, subconsciously tucking your bottom lip under your teeth. you wonder why he’s not questioning the color change, maybe he just knows, maybe he was listening last week. you wonder how many girls he’s gotten with, and how many he’s romanced with those angel eyes of his. "you look good." he says gently, almost as if he's giving you an out. almost as if, he's nervous.

"i taste good, too." you mumble, ghosting your lips over his. you can feel your skin start to singe, but you let him kiss you anyway. you let him lift you onto the sink, parting your legs to stand between them. you let him run his hands up your plush thighs, leaning into the kiss as deep as you can without completely absorbing him.

“can’t you get in trouble for this?” chan doesn’t really care, to be honest. you can tell he doesn’t as he drags his lips down your neck, his fingers tugging your skirt up gently. “hmm, no. not me, anyway. trophy wife of the administration privileges.” 

he laughs against your skin, and you give him a cheeky smile as he kisses your lips again, his thumbs gently working circles into your hips. “i don’t want to do this here. let’s find a room, yeah?” "mmm, i don't think so. students who don't participate in class don't get extra credit." you pout, patting his chest when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

message from: jihyo <3

[11:47pm] saw you dip with cutie, so i cozied up to that mingyu guy

[11:48pm] going back to his, u can get home safe?

[11:49pm] i'll turn around if u can't. bros before hoes 💪🏻

message to: jihyo <3

[11:51pm] go ahead <3 txt me deets l8r he's a massive flirt lol

you slide it back into your pocket, and chan's hands leave your skin. he quietly moves your skirt back into place, and his eyes flicker to meet yours. he doesn't look upset at your rejection, moreso a bit grateful. "you're cute. you ask too many questions, and i'm still upset with you, but you're incredibly cute."

it's just the liquor talking. he won't remember any of this, or change his behavior by tuesday. he seems to hold grudges, but you know it's really just emotional blockage. nothing you can't help with, but everything he won't let you help with.

"maybe come to class and i might let you cum in me. you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you mumble against his lips, a shiver going through his spine. "let me walk you home." he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours. you feel your stomach flip, the gesture so cute you just might let him sleep with you. you capture his lips again, sliding your hand up his chest, fingers softly wrapped at the base of his neck. his hand catches your wrist, sliding it higher.

you give it a soft squeeze as you slither your tongue into his mouth, drawing a soft groan from him. he pulls back, your lips chasing after him as he raises an eyebrow. "who's needy now, huh?" "shut up, let's go." you place a peck to his cheek, and you force your glow back to gold, albeit dimmer than normal. he has his hand on the small of your back as you exit the bathroom. he slides it around your waist, his fingers softly digging into your hip before he stops dead in his tracks. "what?"

you're whispering as you follow his eyes, seeing a blond guy in a baseball jersey staring back at him as he sneaks out of the closet you passed. a girl is gripping his hand, floating behind him. the guy turns on his heels, quickly weaving his way through the people crowding the hall, the girl giving a hazy smile as he drags her through.

"in a closet? really?" he shakes his head, and you feel his hand squeeze your waist. "sorry." "no worries. could've been us if you showed up to class." you tease as he guides you through the crowd, and you spot minnie watching you sneak your way through the people. she wiggles her eyebrows, and you just shake your head as chan opens the front door, letting you out first as he grabs his jacket from his friend.

"shit, it's colder than a witch's tits out here." you chatter, and chan quickly joins you on the porch, sliding the jacket over his arms. "it really is. which way do you live?" the walk is quiet, besides the leaves crunching under your shoes. he's close enough that his cologne meets your nose, but not close enough to where you can touch him and not be overdoing it. the taste of his lips was not enough to satiate you.

"why are you so mean to me?" you ask, not daring to look at him. he hums in response, before grabbing your shoulders, swinging his arm over you. you instinctively wrap your own around his waist, your fingers brushing the same sliver of skin you'd eyed earlier that night. you're burning up against him, and he welcomes the heat as your hips bump.

"i'm normally not this uptight." he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "i don't like answering questions about my personal life, much less my abilities. or lack thereof, rather. it was too soon when you asked, i'm still trying to figure myself out. i'm very lost in that area of my life, and if i don't find out soon, i'm not sure how i'll make a living. please don't think i'm only this way with you, i'm just feeling stuck. it's like i'm running out of time." you take in his words, nodding silently. you know your magic is taking over him as he speaks, because you feel your glow dimming more and more as you keep walking. "i don't know what that feels like, chan. i'm sorry, genuinely. i truly do want you to understand that i am here to help as much as i can, not just as a professor but as…a friend, i guess." "mmh, i don't think you can help." he squeezes your arm gently as you make a left turn. "i'm too far gone, i believe. i thought about what you said, the emotional blockage thing. and i know that you're using your fingers to seep your funky little magic into me so i talk about myself and get things moving for your peace of mind." his fingers pat yours lingering on his hip, and you sheepishly go to move them.

he holds them in place, as you guide him to the gate of your complex. "i don't mind talking to you, or answering your questions. i really, really admire you as a person and sorceress. the selflessness, you're one of the kindest people i've ever had the pleasure of meeting. you just have to give me some time to warm up to you."

he stops in front of the gate, letting you punch in the code before sliding his arm off your shoulders. "i want to apologize for my behavior. i know i've been increasingly bitchy and standoffish, i'm just stressed. i'm sorry, and i'm sorry for taking it out on you. i know you're just trying to help."

"won't you come in? it's rather late and i'd hate to have you walk back alone." your eyes are slightly pleading, and he raises a brow. "are you sure?" 

you shrug, holding the gate open. he walks past you, not comfortable enough to slide his arm over you once more. he feels the warmth of you as you float past, and he follows quietly. unlocking the door, his eyes peer into your apartment, and it's just like your classroom. 

the lights are dimmed, and your couch is the same velvety green. it smells like bambinella pear and bergamot, and your walls are littered with photos and articles. many of them penned by you, he notices, as he skims them. "feel at home?" you chuckle, and he hears the rustling of your coat as you slip it off.

"mhm, it smells nice in here." he nods as he continues observing articles, before bumping into your side table. he looks down and sees a newspaper from seven years ago, a smiling face staring back at him.

spellbound prodigy involved in an automobile accident puts the world of wizardry at risk.

he skims the paper, seeing your name repeated over and over again but yet, no mention of the person in the photo. no age, no name.

"oh, you found that?" you're behind him, and you take hold of the paper, letting it droop over your hands. "who is that?" you sigh, your fingernail tracing the man's face. "minhwi. he was my best friend from primary school until the summer of 2017. that's when the accident happened." setting the paper back down, you pat the picture before floating to the kitchen, your golden glow gone as it begins to turn dark red.

"it's grief, the hue." you wave your hand at yourself as chan leans against the island, his eyes softening as you pour water in a glass, sliding it to him. the color dims as you turn to him, sitting on the bar stool. "i know, you're wondering how i'm involved in the accident."

chan looks down, and you let out an airy chuckle. "god, i hate talking about this." you rub your thighs, before looking up. "he told me he was in love with someone, and i encouraged him to make the hour drive to see her. i even offered to tag along, even though it was into the human world."

you're nervous, and chan can feel it. he rounds the island, sliding onto the stool beside you. you twist to face him as he takes your hands in his. how cute, you think.

"there was a really bad thunderstorm, but minhwi literally used to race cars for money. rain or shine, he was an expert behind the wheel. he won so many, and i was there for almost all of them. he called me his biggest cheerleader." chan's thumb wipes at your face, and you hadn't even known you were crying. you feel your chest ache as his hand lingers, before dropping back to your lap. "lightning struck one of the oak trees lining the backway route into town. minhwi tried to swerve out of the way, and we wound up spinning out. the tree landed on the car, and the weight crushed us, and there was glass everywhere. he died on impact."

you sniffle, and chan's eyes are glossy as he clears his throat. "and you blame yourself?" "absolutely." nodding, you interlace your fingers with chan's. "and the fact that i survived and he didn't, it kills me inside. it's not like he would've been able to, he was a…" you trail off, and chan's eyes match yours in size.

"...he was human." he finished, and you can't look at him. "you exposed the world of magic and our practices, to a human." you stay silent, before his arms envelope you in a hug. the burn you feel is almost debilitating, but you feel blue crawling up your neck as he rubs your back softly. "i'm sorry for your loss, y/n."

"that's it?" you blurt, and he laughs against your neck like he did earlier. "yeah, it's not like i can judge you, and it's not like humans don't know we exist. we're just frowned upon, it's not a crime to involve yourself with them. love makes us do crazy things." he pulls back, and you let blue overtake you. "i'm genuinely sorry about your friend. he sounds like he was a great time." "he was. i haven't talked about him since. all i have left is the scars from the accident." you shrug, taking a sip of your water. "scars?"

you flash a smile at him, before shaking your head. "just know, if i ever do let you in my pants, the shirt stays on, not because i'm insecure but because i hate looking at them."

he nods, a shy look crossing his eyes before he closes them. "can i ask you for a favor? before you go to bed, i mean?" "sure, anything." you tuck your hair behind your ears, sitting up. "that emotional blockage you spoke about, you can…remove that, right? i'm not too sure what your powers are." he mumbles as he picks at his nails, and you smile. "i can. would you like me to do that for you?" his eyes look to yours, and you see fear flash through them. "it doesn't hurt, channie. come on, i can do it right now." you slide off the stool, holding your hand out to him. he takes your hand, but instead of following you, he pulls you towards him.

your chest is flush to his, and you see a subtle blush on his cheeks as he dips his head, lips brushing against yours. you relax in his hold, letting your lips mold against his. you can't feel anything but heat and his tongue teasing yours, but it's no big deal (you're trying to convince yourself at this point.) his hands move to hold your face, his fingers burning your skin when he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours.

"not tonight, i don't think i'm ready." he whispers against your lips, and you open your eyes to look into his hazy ones. nodding, you press another chaste kiss on his mouth. "whenever you're ready, channie. i'll be here."

"i'll take the couch." he plants one last kiss on your forehead, and you nod. "if you insist. goodnight, channie." "goodnight, y/n." he watches your glowing form trail down the hall, likely towards your bedroom.

and he sees a hint of indigo spreading across your back as you shut the door behind you.

tuesday – december 15.

chan is a lot nicer as the next two weeks go by. still shows up to class, even early, since your escapade after the party. he finds himself staring at you more often than not, and you're not the only one who notices.

minnie often slips you knowing looks, and you find yourself growing shy as you look to see chan peeking at you over his laptop, eyes glowing that bright violet you've come to adore.

"alright, everybody. have a good weekend!" you smile cheerfully as they file out, your glow now bright blue. the girls had mentioned you looked much more relaxed these days, and you attributed it to 'more sleep.'

you didn't really know what it was. you'd woken up glowing indigo the day after the party, and almost everyday after that. you flickered indigo when you caught chan in the hallway before class on tuesday, and when he hung back a little too long on thursday. really, if you even glanced at chan, you'd flash the dark color and leave the students rubbing at their eyes.

chan, on the other hand, was constantly looking for ways to talk to you.

he saw the flustered flickering, the confusion of your body as it glitched from hue to hue. at one point you had splotches of indigo, pink and your natural gold all over you. you still flirted back at mingyu's advances, albeit he calmed down noticeably. he observed that mingyu was on his phone more often, and you later found out through minnie that he was utterly romanced by jihyo. you thought it funny, and teased him about it (and jihyo, the next time you saw her for coffee and pastries.)

"hey, can we talk?" chan is standing behind you as you wave off your students, and you jump at the closeness. "sure, channie. what's up? is this about your final project?"

it wasn't an unreasonable question. the semester was coming to an end, the students looked visibly stressed and you hadn't heard of any parties since.

but, you knew it was unreasonable for your situation with chan. you never missed his longing glances at your lips, or the fact that he was early to class. his friends changbin and jisung often trailed behind him as he walked to class, and he only introduced you to them because they wouldn't stop badgering him at the doorway. "she's even prettier up close," jisung had said dreamily, and you just gave him a soft smile as you watched him bump into the doorframe.

"not really? maybe." he rubs his neck, and you tilt your head. "what's going on?" 

"uh, i think i'm ready. for what we talked about…the night of the party." he swallows thickly, and you feel taken aback. "oh? what brought this on?" you float to the back, patting the same couch he sits in during class. you tuck your legs under you, holding your head up with the wall. his knees brush yours as he sits, and you wince at the heat you feel in your chest.

"i started the essay you assigned last night." he can't look at you, and you find your stomach to grow increasingly tight. "yeah?" "i can't write anything. i have six drafts already, and i feel so overwhelmed." he's nibbling on his lip, almost as though not to cry. you lean closer, his eyes glassy as they meet yours. frowning, your hand finds home on his jaw, your thumb wiping a few fallen tears. "i'm here, i can help. we can do it here." 

you get up, moving the tables back towards the walls. he watches you as you move, and your back is splotched with indigo. he still doesn't know what it means, but you shiver as it creeps up your neck. your hand flies to your nape, rubbing your skin. it dissipates, returning to your golden glow.

"need an open space. are you sure?" you motion for him to join you in the center of the room, and he nods. you can already feel the same heat on your skin as he settles in front of you, and the same eerie cold of indigo on your shoulders. you huff, sliding your cardigan onto the floor and rolling up your sleeves. "i have to touch your skin for this, okay? and don't worry about anything else, just keep your eyes on me." he's nervous as he lets you take his shaky hands, a soft pout on your lips as you close your eyes. "i got you, okay? i won't let anything hurt you, you're strong." you're muttering, but he finds comfort in your words. he's sure you say this to everybody.

until you start glowing a blinding blaze of indigo, your face scrunched, wincing as the room cools significantly. you're brighter than he's ever seen, possibly brighter than the fluorescent lights that line the university halls. your grimace grows as you furrow your brows deeply, the glow around you seemingly like a flame. he just watches silently as you drop one of his hands.

"can you lift your shirt for me?" your voice is strangled. your eyes are screwed shut, and he quickly does so, your hand trembling as it makes contact. your skin feels like it's on fire, and you don't know what's happening that you can only hear ringing. you'd never felt anything this intensely, but you persist as your hand palms around his torso, before reaching the center. you splay your fingers, pressing into his skin. 

you flash green for a second, so quick he almost misses it.

sliding your hand up his chest, you find the base of his throat. a sigh slips through your lips, and you pull him closer. placing his hand on your waist before moving yours in his hair. you flash slightly pink as he slips his other hand on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. 

"this might feel a little cold." you murmur, and you dim entirely. the glow around you is now gone, a soft grey floating off you. it runs to the floor, like sand, and forms different grainy figures. kind of like…sandcastles. you open your eyes, despite the damn near inferno heat where your skin meets his.

"these are all your blockages." you pull his shirt down, and move his hands from your hips. to your right, is a grainy woman that splits into several more women. next to her, are two figures, who seem to disappear into another figure, a forest. you skirt around him, holding him in place with a hand on his hip. behind him, is another figure.

shaped kind of like you. your thighs, your arms, your hair.

"what…do they mean?" you're snapped out of your process by his voice, and you sigh. "this one…channie, you have to find better coping mechanisms. sleeping with women for stress relief is not good for you. i know it feels good, but there are other things you can do. ever tried puzzles?"

you sink to the floor, pulling him with you. you move the figures next to each other in front of you, the sand-like texture sticking to your skin. gesturing to the women, you keep talking.

"casual sex is awful, when you compare it to relationship sex. shit, even hate sex. at least you feel something other than lust for the person you're fucking." you grimace, and he nods. with a wave of your hand, the sand collapses. "these next three…you can pick which you want first." he glances at them, his hand subconsciously searching for yours. you grab it, and he points at the two people. you let your skin burn as you begin to talk, his fingers tightening around your palm. "these…are your parents, and the forest around the university." the room stills, and chan lets go of your hand. "what about them?" "you're afraid they're not proud of you. you feel like you're missing out on your experiences with them, because…" you wince as an aftershock racks your body, making you shiver. you miss chan's nervous glance. "because they're distant. you feel like an outcast from your family, and it affects the way you form bonds here. it's hard for you to build friendships, and it's hard for you to establish relationships because you fear being loved. or maybe loving, and not being loved back"

taking a breath, you pull your knees to your chest.

"the forest is representative of your lost feeling. all the trees look the same, and it makes you feel like you're constantly going in circles. everyone here is identical, we all have something special. you find it hard to relate because although you know there is something that makes you like us, you're unaware of what it is." he nods, and you let the figures drop.

"this one…" you're mumbling, and he leans slightly closer to hear you. sighing, you pull the figure of you closer. raising your arm, the figure raises her arm. "that's me." his head snaps to look at you, your eyes burning holes into the floor. you glance at the figure, collapsing it. all the figures pool together, and you lean forward, blowing it like you would dust off a bookshelf. it disappears, and chan leans back on his hands.

"what about you?" he murmurs, and you shake your head, moving to lie through your teeth. "i don't know." "you're lying." you feel your glow return, flickering gold. "y/n, tell me what it means." "i can't." you shrug, "i don't know what it means. did this help? do you feel better?"

he's peering at you, his eyes swirling violet. you raise a brow as you look at him over your shoulder, and he just shakes his head. getting up, he stalks back to the couch. you watch as he shoves his arms into his hoodie, and you simply get up, floating towards your desk.

he grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him. you sense the frost of indigo across your mid-back. you turn his hold, eyes glued to his fingers wrapped around your arm. "why?"

"hm?" "why can't you tell me?" his eyes are insistent in their violet glory. chills run down your back, indigo spreading over your hips as you run your eyes over him. he's so beautiful. "because…i can't reciprocate."

he doesn't understand, you can tell as he keeps looking at you. kind of like he wants to eat you alive, but also like he wants you to vanish.

"it means you're in love with me, or you will be. you don't like the idea of it, because it means you'll have to open up to me. that kind of…figure doesn't change, even if you want it to. you won't get the option to leave me out of your heart, and it will be unrequited for the rest of our lives. you will love me, forever, and you won't get a say in it." he lets go, brows furrowed, and his face is deep red in embarrassment. you take a step forward, and your hands instinctively reach for his waist. he allows it as he crosses his arms across his chest, his eyes fixated on you, waiting for you to speak.

"i can't love, chan." you whisper, and feel indigo overwhelm you. pursing your lips, you look down so as to not let him see the tears forming. "trust me when i say i wish i could. i wish i could love you, the way you deserve. i could wake up every morning and reach for you, but you would never be there because i can't give you what you need." the tears are dripping off your face now, pattering on the rug beneath your feet. you let go of him, your fingers tugging your shirt up, slipping it over your head. your hair falls to your shoulders, and you push it back, dropping your shirt on your desk. his eyes soften as he looks at the curve of the wide scar – like an insignia, it's carved into your skin. it starts on your shoulder, curving around it the way a fallen bra strap would. it trails down your sternum, before splitting at your diaphragm. a sharp point ends right under your left breast, while the other curves to the right of your belly button, ending on your hip.

"there is nothing i could do in this world that could ever get me in trouble, because i have this." speaking softly, you lift the cup of your bra, showing him where x marks the spot – directly above your heart. "the coven said this was my punishment for minhwi's involvement in this world, and the outrage i sparked. i can't feel love, and i haven't for so long that even if i did, i wouldn't know what it's like. i won't ever feel what it's like to be loved again, because i don't deserve it."

chan's eyes are glossed over as he brings his hand to your skin, the singe making you grimace as his fingers trace the border lightly. he tucks his lip in his teeth as he touches your shoulder, and your glow flickers slightly brighter. he pulls you in, burying his nose in your hair. "everyone deserves love. this is not your fault, i'm sorry things happened this way." you pull back, his eyes glistening with tears as he thumbs the scar on your shoulder. you give him a sad smile, shrugging in his hold. "it's life. life goes on, but for what it's worth…if i could, i'm sure you'd take great care of me."

"i still can." he says, reaching for your shirt. "i'm a pleaser, really. reciprocation has never been an issue." 

"are you seriously making a pass at me? after i just told you all of that? have some shame." you let an airy chuckle slip through your lips as you take your shirt from him, and he just smiles. one, two dimples. "not being able to love doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to cum. just saying." you gasp, landing a gentle smack on his arm before sliding your shirt on. "chan, stop it! what did i say about casual sex, hm?" pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, he cages you between your desk and his firm chest. "didn't we just talk about this? you know it's not casual." you know it's not casual.

"just once, think about yourself, yeah? do yourself a favor." he places a chaste kiss on your nose, and you feel your cheeks heat as he peppers his lips over them. you let a giggle bubble in your throat, his lips stopping over your lips. "just think about it." he gives your lips a quick kiss, before pulling back.

"it's late, let me walk you home?" he offers a gentle look in his eyes. you just nod, grabbing your purse from the back of your desk. you decide you'll move the tables back on thursday, sliding your cardigan up your arms. "aren't you cold?" he asks, sliding his arm over your shoulders like he did the night of the party, as you lock the classroom door.

"no, actually. i don't know if you feel it, but every time you touch me, i feel like i'm on fire." you chuckle lightly as you start walking, and his breath hitches. glancing at him, he just moves the two of you forward. "chan?" "mhm?" he doesn't look at you, and you stop walking. crossing your arms, he sighs. "it's not a big deal." he shrugs, trying to shake the subject by tugging you slightly closer. you frown, wrapping your arms around his waist. your eyes are fixed on him, and he can't help but coo.

"you're so pretty." he squishes your face with his free hand, and continues walking forward. "does it bother you?" you ask, your fingers drumming on his hip. the air is so frigid, and so is indigo as it fights chan's warmth. you just have to let me warm up to you.

he did so awfully fast.

"does what bother me?" he's tracing circles in your shoulder, the movement scorching. he seems so relaxed, so unperturbed by anything. you'd never seen his face so calm, used to the furrow of his brows or the bags under his eyes darker than they should be. "the fact that i won't be able to love you back." he chuckles, fingers squeezing your shoulder. "i'm used to it, as pathetic as it sounds. love is not my forte, or for the people around me. jisung is surprisingly able to get into almost anyone's pants, and can't settle down for shit. changbin is sickeningly in love with his best friend, and do you remember that guy we saw at the party? the one sneaking out of the closet?" 

you nod, and he laughs. "that's seungmin. that girl he was with, they broke up back in august. they've been fucking around ever since. if they're both at a party, they're hooking up. can't seem to stay away from each other, in a desperate attempt to stay on each other's minds, i guess? it's cute, i think." he shrugs. you feel your heart skip a beat, looking  down to see a white glow on your chest. you ignore it, probably glowing silver as you feel the emptiness, the longing to understand what he means.

"so no. it doesn't bother me, it never will. you get used to it."

it pains you a bit, to hear him sound so…well, used to it. so accustomed to settlement, so unbothered by a lack of reciprocation. selfless, really.

wednesday – december 16.

chan wound up spending the night at your apartment. he insisted on taking the couch before you physically pulled him into your room. the moment his back hit the mattress, he ate his words as you tickled him, forcing him to admit that it was more comfortable.

really, you'd just wanted an excuse to wake up next to him. maybe see his bed head, run your fingers through it, exchange a morning kiss. all of that stupid couple shit that you would never fully experience.

because love makes you do stupid things, like spin out on a backroad and die. so you don't deserve to feel it, and really, it keeps you safe. you have no idea what it's like to love anymore and you pretend you're okay with it. you soothe by saying that not all can be felt, not all that can be desired should be had.

but fuck, if you didn't like chan before, you certainly do now.

there's no reason for this. for him standing in your living room, holding a cup of coffee as he reads through the articles you've written and framed. for him to look so cute in your old abba shirt that's too tight on his arms, for his eyes to be swollen with sleep as he blinks over the mug. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects. on you, on the people in his life.

"you're up." his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you feel your cheeks heat as you nod. "your hair is a mess. here, let me fix it." 

he sets down his cup, calmly running his hand through your mussed hair. the curls fight him as he tucks them behind your ears, his fingers lingering on your lobes as you stare at him. your indigo glow reflects on his skin, his head tilted as he speaks. "what? cat got your tongue, professor?"

your mouth opens to retort, but you have nothing to say. nothing comes out. you feel orange flicker through you as you close your mouth, earning a squeaky laugh from the man in front of you. "cute. there's coffee in the kitchen, i just made it." 

he doesn't have morning classes on wednesdays, you figure as he follows you to the kitchen. because it's eleven thirty and he's still in your apartment, in your shirt, with his hands on your waist, and you don't care one bit as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

"are you upset? you haven't said a word." his thumbs work into the small of your back, and you shudder at his touch, before you shake your head. "i'm not used to having people here so early." "it's nearly noon, y/n." he laughs airily, his breath tickling your neck. "still, so early." 

you try and ignore the heat in your chest, far stronger than it had ever been before as his fingers carefully dip below the waistband of your sweats, coming out just as quickly. "you weren't in bed when i woke up." you're muttering, but his proximity makes him hear you anyway.

"aw, did you want to wake up in my arms like they do in the movies?" he's teasing you. you scoff in embarrassment, eyes not catching the subtle white glow on your chest as you turn in his hold. "no way, pft. i like spreading my limbs like a starfish, you were crowding me all night." "hey, i offered to take the couch." he shrugs, and you just shake your head. "should've insisted a little more, then i wouldn't have felt so cold when i realized you weren't there." you joke as you set down your cup, and he raises a brow. "didn't think it would bother you, but that can be fixed." "chan–" you squeal as he hooks his arms under your thighs, your own flying to his shoulders. your legs wrap around his waist as he marches the both of you to your bedroom. "chan, don't you have classes today?" "don't you?" he kisses your forehead gently as he sets you down on your bed, pushing you back lightly. you roll your eyes, trying to hide your excitement as he slips under your duvet. he tugs you closer, your back to his chest. if he cares about the scorching heat of your skin touching, he doesn't mention it as he settles his head in the crook of your neck, reaching to intertwine your fingers with his. he holds your hand tightly, nestling it between your breasts. "if you wanted to touch my boobs, you could've just asked." "shut up, let me hold you. be selfish, for once." he nips at your earlobe, and you sigh. tender kisses trail your neck, and you can feel pink creeping down your thighs as he gives your hand a squeeze. "is this okay?"

"mhm." you can't speak as he lets go of your hand, fingers dancing across the exposed skin of your hip where your shirt has ridden up. he doesn't go up, but instead softly dips into the waistband of your sweats, snapping your underwear against your skin. a whine slips, and you freeze as he pauses. "should i stop?" his voice is raspy in your ear, and your hand grabs his wrist, bringing it lower. "it's alright. you can keep going. f-further, if you want."

you curse yourself at the stutter, hearing a soft chuckle in his throat as his fingers pad over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches in your throat as he circles the wet spot you've been presented with, a shaky sigh escaping chan as he rocks against you. you feel pink envelope in its warmth as you turn onto your back, holding his hand in place as you capture his lips. he kisses you back fervently, his fingers never stopping their movements on your clothed heat. 

"c-can you…" you whimper against his lips, his hand never slowing as you move against it, brows furrowed. he watches as you try to form words, your eyes screwed shut as your hand tugs his away. "can you go d-down on me?" barely a whisper as you peel your eyes open, and he swears they hold the stars.

"i'd kill a man if you asked me." he shrugs, and you just roll your eyes. tugging your sweats off, he gets a glimpse of the way your panties stick to your lower lips, his heart racing in his chest knowing he's got you soaking.

he could make you cum with them on. he's positive.

spreading your thighs slowly, he watches as you hook your thumbs into the waistband. he pushes your hands away, not bothering to address your confusion as he holds them in place, sinking between your legs. he can't help but tease, dragging his soft lips up your skin, watching you shudder at the contact. he moves to grip your hips, your shirt rising and the end of your scar becoming visible. his eyes flicker to yours, "shirt stays on, right?"

"y-yeah." you look away, and he rubs your hip reassuringly. "s'alright, baby. i can make you cum just like this, if you want."

it's not a question, you can tell as he kisses the pink cotton of your panties. he has no intention of taking them off, he might not even fuck you, but you don't care. all that matters are his eyes peering into your fucking soul as he dips his head down, a chaste kiss pressed to your hip. he trails down, hands circling your plush thighs as he litters them with kisses. your eyes are watching him nervously, lip tucked under your teeth to stop the soft pants from echoing the room. you feel like you can't breathe as he pulls you closer to his face, pressing that strong nose into you, inhaling deeply. "you smell so fucking good, baby." he's not even doing anything, but the vibrations of his moan against you elicit a whimper from your throat, making you buck your hips forward. his grip tightens as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, placing a soft kiss on it before he speaks against it.

"be nice, or i'll make you scream." he smiles into your underwear, tonguing your clit through the fabric. he watches as your glow grows brighter, pulling you impossibly closer. he's letting you grind on his face, to use him for your pleasure, and you'd be lying if that doesn't make you that much more wet for him. "y-you don't want to take them off?"

your stuttering is adorable to him, and the way your fingers card through his hair and tug adds to his own pleasure. shaking his head, he snaps the waistband against you again, "you're so needy, aren't you? can't get off just like this?" "channie, p-please. please, i want your f-fingers." he hums against your clit, continuing his cruel lapping, the sound of your pussy against his face obscene and sloppy. "you can beg better than that. tell me how bad you want it, baby." "w-want it so bad, channie, please. please, i'll be g-good for you, p-promise. s-so good." you're almost sobbing, and he almost feels bad. a gentle laugh leaves his throat as he thumbs your slit, leaving sticky strings against his skin as he gives in. "so good? so, so good for me? is that right?" he slides the flimsy fabric down your legs, the exposure to the cool air making you shiver. he's watching your face contort as he collects your arousal on his fingers, before slowly teasing your entrance. "i swear to god, chan-" your retort gets cut off by a gasp, his fingers hitting just right, his lips sucking tortuously on your clit. he likes it messy, is all you can think in your fucked out state as you coat his entire hand in your slick, feeling him groan against your pussy.

"look at you, so pretty. you're a good girl for me, right? you're gonna soak the sheets, hm?" he feels you clamp around his fingers, another wave of your arousal glazing his palm as you sob. "fuck, you sound so hot." "c-channie..." you rasp, your voice so low he almost misses it. he peers at you over your soft tummy, your lips swollen and covered in your spit from biting back your moans. you're actively whining, grinding against his hand in a weak attempt at reaching your release. "aw, baby wants to cum? is that it?"

you whimper, making him curl his fingers inside your wet heat. he seemed to have found the perfect spot as you arched your back off the bed, attempting to pull away from him. his left arm holds you tightly in place, your fingers clutching his wrist as your choked moan rings blissfully in his ears. your thighs close around him, his soft shh doing nothing to quiet you down as you let your orgasm wrack your legs. his lips pepper kisses all over your pelvis, mumbles of praises as he works his way up. 

he hovers over your face, pressing his soft lips on your cheek. you wrap your arms around his neck, shivering at the way his fingers pinch your clothed nipple lightly. "you can give me one more, right? just one more, princess." he's murmuring against your skin, and you nod as he reaches your lips. 

"just one more?" you nip at his lower lip, before sinking in to kiss him. "just one. want to feel you around me, want to know how good i'm making you feel." you realize it's important to chan, despite what he said the night before. he wanted to be praised, he wanted to make somebody proud, even if this was the only way he felt he could do it. he could act like he's this statue, this emotionless, needless creature of nature – but he also desired approval, to be needed, to be wanted.

to be loved.

you don't say anything as you let his hands push your knees to your chest, his lips now suckling on your nipple through your shirt. your hands move to his head, pushing it away as you go to slip it off. his hands let go of your legs, entwining your fingers with his brows furrowed. "you don't have to." "i want to." you quip back quickly, tugging your fingers out of his grasp. you hook them at the hem of your shirt, lightly lifting off the bed to slide it off. he hesitates, his eyes tracing the curves of the raised skin. the way it glows lightly, almost as though it's losing its defined edges.

his eyes flicker to yours, your gaze intently scanning his face. did you think he'd be disgusted? maybe even repulsed? lowering his head, he brushed a kiss to your lips, before he allowed himself to sink to your chest. you breathed in nervously, your fingers gripping the sheets next to your body when you felt his mouth planting feather-light touches to your scar.

he can feel your skin heat under his face, the more he travels along the healed welt. the glow is slightly brighter than your overall pink, as you shudder under him, his hands pulling your fingers into his, the crumpled sheets forgotten as he pins your arms above your head.

"you're so beautiful. gorgeous, ethereal. no words could express how lovely you are." he whispers as he presses one final kiss where x marks the spot, and you jolt lightly at the singe you feel. it spreads, the whole insignia across your torso burning deeply as he moves back. his eyes are flashing with something you can't read. "chan…" "sorry." he shakes his head, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hands. you tilt your head at him, before glancing at his body, a smile spreading on your plump lips. "are you going to fuck me with all your clothes on?"

"i can." he smiles, and you raise an eyebrow. "off, all of it." 

standing off the side of your bed, he tugs your old abba shirt off, and you watch with sinful eyes as he flings it away. "stop staring at me." he whispers, and you shake your head playfully. "you said you'd kill a man if i asked, and gave me the best head of my life, but i can't watch you strip?" 

"the best, huh?" he ignores everything else he slips his sweats off, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed. "don't get cocky, or this won't count as extra c-credit." your eyes peer at him, the leaking head of his thick cock already teasing your folds lightly. his hands circle your legs once more, pulling one over his shoulder while folding the other close to your chest. he stares at your soaked cunt, the way it clenches around nothing. so inviting, so wet, so ready for him.

"that's alright, let's count it as the first class i missed. what was it, getting to know me? ask me something." he continues his teasing, watching as you squirm against him. "uhm, o-okay. what's your favorite color?"

"really?" he rubs against you lightly, his tip dragging over your clit so menacingly, you swear you could cum from just that. "hm, i like black." "black is an ab-absence of color, fuck." you dig your nails into your thighs as he shallowly thrusts into you, the lack of warning wracking a shudder up your spine. "mm, if you can't keep talking there's going to be an absence of dick in about two seconds."

"n-no, no please. shit, that feels so good." you can't keep your eyes open as he slowly sinks further into you, stilling his movements as you tuck your lip into your teeth. "ah, ah. eyes open, keep talking to me." his fingers lightly tap your cheek, your skin burning in embarrassment as you peel your eyes open. "next question, baby." "b-biggest accomplishment so f-far?" you swallow thickly as his hips are flush against your ass, allowing you to adjust to the size of him before making any more movements. he leans his head against your ankle, brows furrowed as he speaks. "probably making you cum so hard, you cry." you narrow your eyes as you look at him, "you h-haven't, though?" "but i will." he kisses your shin, giving an experimental thrust of his hips. your eyes flutter shut, a silent gasp from your lips turning to soft mewls as he starts a gentle pace. "next question." "d-do you believe in love at first s-sight?" you feel him hesitate, before he gives you a particularly harsh thrust. "somewhat." he rubs your thigh gently before continuing his brutal ministrations. "harder, please." silently, he obliges, letting your breathy moans fill his ears instead of talking. he hates talking, he hates answering questions, but he can't help and adore the tone of your voice, the softness of your queries, the avoidance in answering his.

"you feel so good, channie, holy shit." he can feel you clenching tightly around him, but lets your praise take precedence. the way you're arching your back off the mattress, hairline lined with beads of sweat as you let him fuck into you, just the way you like. the way you seem to love, as he lowers to whisper in your ear. "next question."

the proximity makes everything feel like it's a thousand degrees, your hands flying to his hair as he sucks on your collarbone lightly. "favorite s-song? ah!' you hiss at his teeth on your skin, feeling his grin against you.

"your voice." his thrusts are slowly becoming less steady, but you don't care. you don't care because his skin is scorching hot, he's holding you to him, you can feel the air of his pants against your neck and he feels so good.

there's no reason for this. for him to be blissfully ruining you while holding you flush to his chest, your nipples touching with every roll of his hips. for him to look so good while he defiles you, the way you're not even speaking coherently in his ear. for your soul to feel like it's aching for more of him, but how much more could you have when you can't love him. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects, on you, as the white-hot of your orgasm starts approaching fast.

"i…" you feel a sob rip through you, and he instinctively pulls away from you. "hey, hey. it's alright, baby." guilt fills his chest, his hands holding your face as the tears stream down your cheeks. "it's alright, we don't have to–" pushing yourself up on your elbows, you smash your lips to his, feeling yourself glow so hot you're practically on fire. it's all teeth and tongue, and you're wrapping your fingers around his throat before he can react. squeezing gently, he whines into your mouth, his hips snapping erratically against you. you swallow his sounds in your quiet sobs, the tears dripping down your neck doing nothing to cool you down. 

"y/n…" he whines pitifully against your lips, and you can feel his pout emerge as you clench around him. he settles his face in the crook of your neck, cheeks flushed. "p-please don't stop, don't stop, e-ever…" you're just as needy as he is, throwing your head back as he bites at your shoulders, your hand on his throat tightening as he sends you over the edge.

"fuck, baby." the whimper into your shoulder does nothing good for him as you clench around him, milking whatever is left of him, hips driving you both into overstimulation. he slows, his head lifting from your shoulder to peer into your eyes. you avoid them, letting go of his throat and wiping them off with the back of your hand.

the room feels heavy, with guilt. shame. maybe even a bit of hatred, but you’re not entirely sure as he kisses you gently, chastely, before pulling back. his eyes hold the sun, the stars, the moon.

"guess you got your biggest accomplishment, huh?" you chuckle thickly, and he shakes his head, pulling out slowly. his eyes avert to your center, watching his cum drip out of you slowly. he feels weird, it's such a waste. "are you okay? i should've asked sooner, i'm sorry." "no, no. it was…it was really good." you admit, feeling your glow flicker. you close your legs, scooting up on the bed as he reaches for your shirt, you cross your arms over your chest, fingers digging into your sides. "i really liked it, actually." "are you sure?" he's absent, you can tell as he wipes the back of your legs gently, before tossing the shirt over his shoulder. "i'm sorry for crying, i know it was really sudden. i just felt so overwhelmed and you felt so good, and i…" you trail off, and he feels his cheeks heat, shaking his head again. "no, it's fine. that was the goal, after all. i…do you want me to go?" your brows furrow, and you tilt your head. "go? why would i want you to go?" he shrugs, not meeting your eyes as he tugs on his sweatpants. "i don't know, i usually leave after…things like this." "what happened to 'you know it's not casual?'" you use air quotes, and you see his cheeks burn bright red. "i…i don't think i'd be able to do this, especially after what we talked about yesterday."

"do…what? we just had sex, it's not a big deal." you uncross your arms, ignoring your blatant nudity as he slips your abba shirt to you, taking it just to toss it to the side. "...act like i don’t care. i really, really like you, y/n, and i already feel so guilty about this." he can't look at you as he slips his hoodie on, the one you'd thrown over your desk chair last night when he said it was too hot to wear to bed.

you close your mouth, pressing your lips into a firm line as you grab the shirt, tugging it over your head. "i figured this would happen. maybe you should go, chan. clear your head, and we can talk later."

your brows are furrowed as you open your bedroom door, and he swallows thickly. he knew what he was getting himself into, so why does it bother him now? he said he wouldn't care, he said it so confidently.

and yet, he can't bring himself to say a word as he slams out of your apartment, eyes full of tears. leaving you feeling dejected, guilty and alone.

thursday – december 17.

it wasn't until the next day that you noticed it was significantly smaller.

it didn't curve under your breast anymore, the subtle x on your skin gone. it didn't wrap around your shoulder anymore, and it stopped right next to your navel. the scarred skin was now a bit paler, and you'd grimaced as you tugged your shirt on.

you couldn't be arsed with thinking about it, really, because now you had to walk into your classroom and face chan. of course, the chances of him not being there were fifty-fifty.

which inherently, made you feel worse.

you didn't understand why you couldn't stop thinking about his words, and what he said. your voice was his favorite song, he didn't care if you loved him or not, he somewhat believed in love at first sight? he'd met you officially a little over a month ago, no one can fall in love that quickly.

groaning, you felt orange flicker across your body as you let your heels clack against the saltillo tile of the hallway, tossing your half-empty coffee cup in the trash can. upon entering your room, the air feels…cooler.

chan is sitting on the couch, his legs squished together as minnie and shuhua peer at his face. soyeon, mingyu and yugyeom are flipping through various textbooks, each talking about what could have caused a sudden irischroma shift. he probably feels the heat of your stare, his eyes flickering to yours.

they're a deep, deep indigo color. they flash lightly at the sight of you, and minnie looks up to see you standing at your podium. "y/n…you've gotta come see this." "i can…i can see it, minnie." your voice is faint as you feel your chest searing hot, your hand coming to soothe it. clearing your throat, you shake your head as you feel a little weary, shuhua approaching you quickly. "are you okay? y/n?" "yes, i'm okay." your breathing becomes a little labored, soyeon and mingyu rushing to your side as you sink to the floor. "just give me some room." your hands touch the cool floor, and you can feel yourself dimming by the second. 

"gyu, get help." minnie shoves mingyu out the door, and you can hear his footsteps fading as he runs to the infirmary. "chan, help me pick her up." yugyeom urges, and you weakly shake your head.

"i'm fine, i'm okay." you choke out, your hand clutching your chest as you feel chan's warm hands on your arms, circling around to lift you gently. "easy, easy. i got you, baby." he murmurs, and you feel your eyes sting with tears as he lets you slump against him, your glow fading fast.

"stay with me." his fingers dig into your side as he picks you up bridal style, carefully walking you over to the couch. yugyeom pulls their backpacks off, letting him lower you gently. minnie fans you with a stack of papers. chan peers at your face, your brows pinched as you breathe in as deeply as you can, his thumb instinctively padding at the crease. huffing, you tear his hand away, lacing your fingers in his. he acts like his heart doesn’t lurch forward.

"alright, everybody, back up." mingyu's voice rings in the room, and your bleary eyes can barely make out the oxygen mask that nurse taeyeon is slipping over your face. "there, there, professor. we got you."

you're shivering as she instructs chan to lift you onto the gurney on three, and you almost cry at the loss of contact when he sets you down. "chan, chan." your voice is nearly a whisper, and the students watch as you flicker, your glow lost as it glitches between colors. 

"maybe you should go with her." yugyeom nudges him as nurse taeyeon glances at him, and she crosses her arms as chan nods slowly,slipping his bag over his shoulder. he takes nurse taeyeon's place at the end of the gurney, rolling you quietly out of the classroom. you're flickering from color to color as he walks slightly faster at nurse taeyeon's command.

"what happened?" she asks, and chan shakes his head as they take a sharp turn, your groan resounding in the hall. "i'm not sure, she just started clutching her chest and basically fell to the floor." nodding, taeyeon stays quiet the rest of the walk, her eyes only glancing at his worried expression and your hazy one. they're in love, she thinks. this is love.

taeyeon can't really help you. her powers lay in the herbalism field, she has no idea what's wrong, and she can't get a specialist here fast enough. she watches as chan carefully positions you in the empty room, letting his bag slide onto the floor before taking a seat at the foot of the bed. she simply sighs, calling that she'd be back with a rosemary tea and to just sit tight as she calls for the master sorcerers.

his hand gently strokes your ankle, making you flinch. "chan, chan i can't breathe." you tug at your collar, and he quickly reaches to unbutton your top buttons. "it's gonna be okay, angel." he's whispering as your hand grasps his wrist, the oxygen mask doing little to help as you wheeze.

"chan…" his head lifts, and your eyes are teary as you hear footsteps approaching hurriedly. he doesn't acknowledge you as the master sorcerers burst into your room, taeyeon trailing behind them with a steaming cup. "excuse me, coming through." she perches at the edge of the bed, carefully pulling you up. you whimper softly, and chan feels his heart ache at your pain. "drink this, it'll help your stress. that's probably what this is, just some anxiety."

taeyeon's tone is soft as she takes off the oxygen mask, the master sorcerers waiting until they can swoop in. neither of them acknowledge chan, despite getting to know him insanely well over the past few years. he could dare to think that they were afraid of him, of not knowing what he was. master sorcerers my ass, he thinks.

"i can't…" you're breathless, and taeyeon's gaze softens as she lets you slump down on the pillow once more. "it's alright. the master sorcerers are here, okay? they'll take care of you." she pats your shoulder, and you nod wearily as the grandest of all, dr. kang seulgi, takes a step forward.

"bang chan, why are you here?" her sharp voice echoes in the room, and your hand weakly reaches for him as he slides off the bed. "i brought her in, dr. kang."

"i see. you can evacuate the premises." she waves him away nonchalantly, and he frowns deeply as he steps back, your eyes fixed on him. almost like you're begging him to stay.

"i think i'll stay, actually." he blurts, and dr. kang's eyes snapped to him. "i'm not asking you, chan, i'm telling you." "let the boy stay, what's the harm?" dr. min's voice rings from his spot against the door frame, and chan glances up at the nimble man. "c'mon, seulgi."

"yoongi, if you undermine me again, you're sleeping on the couch." she grits, her wedding band to dr. min glinting in the low light as she rubs her temples. your hand reaches for chan once more, a soft groan from your lips catching his attention. he takes it, entwining your fingers quickly, kneeling at your side. "of course, jagi. y/n, what seems to be the problem?" dr. min pushes past, noting the undone buttons of your blouse. your chest is glowing, but the rest of you is the dimmest indigo he'd ever seen. much less, having seen you never glow indigo. your breathing is still labored, chest glowing brighter as chan once more rubs the pinch of your brows away.

"y/n, i'm going to open your shirt, okay?" dr. kang pushes past dr. min, her nimble fingers undoing the rest of the buttons. your scar is illuminated, but…it's not really there. it's faded, and chan can tell this is out of the ordinary as dr. kang's brows raise.

"yoongi." her voice is low, bringing her husband to her side. "oh, my."

their eyes meet, as though they're speaking telepathically. dr. kang's eyes flash gold as she furrows her brows, her husband grimacing as his own flash green. they glance at chan, who is gingerly moving your hair out of your face, his fingers barely ghosting over your sticky skin.

you can barely see him through your foggy eyes, but you're scanning him intently. you can see the glowing indigo of his eyes, that matches yours. you're dimming, but he's brighter than ever and it sends a shiver up your spine. his hand squeezes yours, a wave of heat attacking your chest.

dr. kang looks back, her husband staring intently at her.

"he healed her, it seems." his eyes speak, and she shakes her head. "he's not a healer, remember? we tried that already." yoongi nods, eyes fluttering back to the both of you. chan's now sitting on the edge of the bed, your arm draped over his lap as he speaks to you gently. he can't hear what chan is saying, but the glint of adoration in his eyes tells him all he needs to know.

"chan, can i see you in the hallway?" dr. min speaks, and your head turns to him. you pout, your eyes filling with tears as chan pulls away from you. dr. kang gives him a hard glare as she takes his place, her cool hand placed directly on your hot skin, making you groan.

"yes, dr. min?" chan's eyes are enticing, and dr. min shrugs. "let's try a little something, hm?" chan follows dr. min's line of vision, the door of the bathroom ajar. dr. min makes a gesture for chan to wait, before ducking into the bathroom, shutting the door. chan hears a loud crash, and dr. min appears just as fast, with a bloody fist.

"dr. min, are you alright? i can get nurse taeye-" dr. min places his free hand over chan's mouth, a knowing look in his eyes as he holds up his injured hand. "heal me, chan." "what? sir, i'm not a healer, you know that." chan furrows his brows, and dr. min shakes his head. "channel it." dr. min's eyes are boring into chan's soul as he looks away, shivering as he tries to channel any sort of magical energy for this injury. he's not surprised when nothing happens, and dr. min nods his head.

dr. min simply heals it himself, and chan looks away as the skin closes quickly, the dried blood disappearing before his eyes. vitalis mendacium, he thinks it's called. "chan, i think i may have an idea of what's going on with professor y/n." dr. min clasps his hands together in front of him, and chan tilts his head.

"you're in love with her, aren't you?" dr. kang's voice rings from the doorway of your room, and chan gapes at her. "w-what?" "don't play dumb. she told me she helped you clear some emotional blockage on tuesday, and she showed up in your blockages." dr. kang crosses her arms, and a groan is heard from you, chan flinching at the sound. "chan, this is dangerous territory." his eyes narrow as he shakes his head. "i don't think what you did to her was right. i think we all deserve a chance at love, no matter our mistakes. you're wrong, dr. kang." dr. kang scowls, "you think we did this to her? the old coven did it, we had no say!" she points between herself and her husband, and dr. min places his hand on her shoulder.

"chan, seulgi is right. in this world, there is no amount of study done that could reverse what the old coven has done to y/n. they cursed layers upon layers of punishment on her, this was never intended to be something that could be undone." dr. min speaks slowly, and chan can hear you whining in the room behind the couple. he's antsy, he feels sick to his stomach knowing you're a mere ten feet away and he can't make you feel better. 

"i don't know what to do." dr. kang admits lowly, her hand covering her eyes as she looks away from the men in front of her. "i think…" dr. min trails off as chan pushes past them, sliding next to you. he watches chan fan you with his hand, your own wrapped around his waist as you shiver.

"you trust me, right?" he looks to seulgi, who nods her head. "always." his hands spin her around, making her face the two of you. "i think this is his to heal. look how quiet she is in his presence, she's barely moving. her breathing is more steady." "yoongi, he's not a healer." seulgi groans into her hands, her eyes catching a flash of white protruding from you as chan runs his hand down your back. she watches as he helps you peel your jacket off, your baby pink shirt transparent from the sheen of your sweat soaking through.

"maybe not for us, but for her." yoongi mumbles, seeing chan swipe your hair away from your neck, his lips pursed as he blows cool air against your skin. your groan is one of relief as he rocks you, and seulgi glances at her husband, swallowing thickly. "they're so rare, yoongi. there hasn't been one in this dimension in three hundred and twenty five years."

"i think we may have another on our hands." yoongi smiles widely as you slowly prop yourself up on your elbow, chan's worried eyes scanning your face for distress. you make a noise of disgust, your glow returning green steadily as chan helps you sit up. "what happened? ugh, i'm all sweaty."

glancing at your hands, you see them glowing indigo as it spreads up your body. you turn, seeing the master sorcerers staring at you from the doorway. grimacing, you glimpse at chan, who is looking at you intently. "hey, you alright?" his hand is holding your hip, and your frown falters as you look into his eyes. they're glowing bright as he looks you over. "what happened to your eyes?" your voice is raspy, and he looks away, shrugging.

"i'm not sure. they started changing last night." he swallows, and you shudder as indigo engulfs you entirely. "they look…pretty."

he snorts, shaking his head. "you might want to button up your shirt." feeling your cheeks burn, your fingers fumble with the buttons when you feel seulgi's cool hand on your wrist. "wait."

letting her lay you back, you miss chan's warmth as he slips off the bed, lingering from a few feet away as she opens your shirt. her eyes widen as she quickly beckons her husband over. his eyes snake down your torso, and his eyes glint with green as he meets seulgi's. they're silent, their faces moving as they communicate.

"y/n?" dr. kang's voice is low as she runs her hand through your mussed curls, and you meet her line of vision. her eyes are soft, staring at your torso. "y/n, do you know the history of psychosomatic healers?"

raising a brow, you nod your head. "yeah, they're the rarest of the healing trifecta. there hasn't been one in this dimension since 1699, and even then there's only seven recorded cases because they're so difficult to pinpoint at commencement." dr. min steps forward, noticing chan's eyes glued to the floor as dr. kang examines you further.. "y/n, i'd like to try something, if you don't mind." nodding, you allow dr. kang to take your arm in her hand, pulling your sleeve off your shoulder. 

with a quick swipe of her nails, you're bleeding. you gape at her, a scoff flying from your lips when chan looks up, the sound tearing him from his thoughts. "are you serious, seulgi?" you push her away, flickering orange and dr. min beckons chan forward. "touch her, chan."

taking a deep breath, chan gets closer to you, his nose scrunching at the blood seeping into your shirt. he takes your hand in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. you look away from your shoulder, zeroing in on the subtle touch of affection when a white glow catches everyone's eyes. tugging at your shirt sleeve, seulgi reveals a clean shoulder, no injury visible.

"a psychosomatic healer can only heal those they love." she states, her eyes boring into chan's as he tries to tug his hand away, but you only use it as leverage to sit up. "what the fuck are you guys on about?" "there's no way you're that dumb, y/n." seulgi snorts, her manicured fingernail pointing at your chest. "i don't know how he did it, and i don't think we'll ever know. the curse the coven set upon you has been lifted by him." you look down — the raised welt where your scar once was has dissipated. widening your eyes, you peel the shoulder of your shirt down, the formerly scarred skin now smooth. your fingers tremble as you run them over your soft flesh, feeling the sting of tears forming. you can feel the burn of a sob in your throat as chan releases your hand, stepping back as you process.

the burning of his gaze, of his skin on yours, of your chest in his presence. the ache you felt in your soul yesterday as his lips brushed your neck with every roll of his hips, the way his answers confused you. the anger you felt while walking to class, at not being able to decipher him.

the way his angel eyes held the sun, the moon, and the stars. the way worry creases his brow though relief has washed over his frame, the way you're itching to hold him close, and never, ever let go.

it all makes sense.

"we'll give you both a moment." the master sorcerers bow their heads as they back out of the room, dr. min closing the door behind him. you sit in silence, feeling sticky and gross and overwhelmed.

"you're in love with me?!" you shriek, and chan throws up his hands in defense. "i thought we already knew this, why are we screaming?!" you swat his arm, and a nervous laugh bubbles up his throat. flopping back down onto the gurney, you dramatically cover your eyes with your arm, sighing. "now i have to cherish this, and we're probably going to get married and have kids and all that shit. are you serious? are you serious." "y/n…" you stand up, pacing back and forth in front of him, your hands weaving through your hair to soothe the onsetting migraine at the information. "how are you not freaking out, chan? you just found out you're one of the rarest healers in the trifecta, and not to mention the first in over three centuries! are you shitting me right now?" "y/n?"

you're not listening as you continue to ramble, pacing a hole into the floor when he grabs your shoulder, pulling you to him. taking both your hands in his, he looks you in the eyes. "you're spiraling." 

huffing, you nibble on your lower lip. "what happens now, chan?"

his smile is warm, it's comforting, it's making your stomach flip as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "i don't know. isn't that the beauty of it all, though? not knowing where you end up?"

pouting, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing his warmth to seep into your skin. "i've never felt this, chan. i don't know what it's like to be lost, i've always had my answers." you can feel the vibrations of his chest as he laughs, his hand coming to stroke your hair gently.

"that's okay, it'll be like the blind leading the blind. for now, we can just focus on…us? maybe go on a date, have dinner…" his voice is soft as you look up to him, his eyes already scanning your face for any hint of rejection. "unless you don't want to." you do, of course you do.

"i'm all sweaty, and gross. we've had a revelation about your purpose in this world, your eyes are a different color, and you want to focus on us?" your voice is laced with incredulity, a hint of amusement peeking through as it tugs at your lips. "i have my whole life to focus on other things. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? i have that answer, that piece now, but i'm already figuring this part out." squeezing your shoulder, he places a chaste kiss on your hairline, your nose scrunching.

"why did you come with me?" you poke his chest, and he smirks. "yesterday or today?"

gaping, you land a soft smack to his chest, his squeaky laughter filling your ears as your cheeks heat. "chan! not funny!" "sorry, i'm sorry! i saw an opportunity, i took it. but, i was worried about you." he starts, taking a piece of your hair between his fingers. "i saw how angry you looked before minnie spoke to you, and before you looked at me. you started looking faint when we met eyes, and i was…i was scared that something might happen to you and that i wouldn't be able to apologize for potentially overstepping boundaries, or ruining whatever little game we have going on."

"you couldn't ruin whatever this is even if you tried." you scoff, your words tumbling out before you can process them. "i've never felt anything this intense before in my entire life. my ears started ringing when i touched your chest on tuesday, here." you splay your fingers on his hoodie, in the same place.

"i couldn't hear a thing. that was me, the blockage, i was basically hearing myself. if we didn't have that moment, if you hadn't let me in, none of this would have happened." you speak softly, taking his hands in yours, his eyes glassy as he looks into yours. your smile is gentle, and he can feel his stomach flutter as you lean closer. "and i'm so glad it did. despite this whole day being so weird, despite the coven probably burning holes into the back of my head right now from hell right now, and despite the tears i can see about to spill out of your eyes, nothing could ruin this. okay?" he looks away, nibbling on his lip. your thumb strokes his cheek, catching a few stray tears as you make him face you. vision blurring, but you can see him clearer than ever.

"okay?" you insist, and he nods. "okay."

"good." pulling him towards you, you crash your lips to his, feeling your heart beating in your ears. your arms cross over his shoulders, his hands finding home on your bare waist, the kiss becoming heated. parting his lips, your tongue snakes its way in, a soft groan from chan as he pushes you back, your knees hitting the gurney. 

"not in here, guys." dr. kang's voice echoes in the room, and you spring apart like teenagers. wiping at your lips, you watch as chan grabs your discarded jacket, and his bag. outstretching his hand to you, you take it, letting him rush the both of you towards the door. quickly bowing to the master sorcerers, you giggle as the cool december air hits your chest.

"yeah, y/n! nice titties, girl!" you hear a holler from down the hall, your eyes catching a glimpse of minnie's teal hair. you smile widely, waving as chan continues, a blush coating his cheeks as you begin to float behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"where are we going?" you mumble in his ear, and he shivers. "to yours. i need to show you how much you mean to me." you let the butterflies bounce around in your stomach, knowing exactly what was coming your way.

friday – january 08.

your relationship with chan had become the talk of the wizard world. several words were thrown your way, many to your detriment – but you chose to focus on 'love epiphany' and 'anomalies made to traverse together.'

he naturally passed your class with flying colors, what more could you do when he literally discovered himself? the students deemed it completely fair, with only yugyeom choosing to retake your course because he felt like he didn't really do what was necessary. mornings were filled with the buzzing of your phone – the students had made a group chat and continuously badgered you with memes, and mingyu with his graduation photos.

whereas, chan's mornings were filled with you, his phone long put on silent. your soft hair tickling his neck, only for your gentle lips to place chaste kisses along his jaw as he awoke. your warm leg draped over his waist, your knee teasing his crotch so early was something he'd never get used to. your arm, propping you up once he lazily peels an eye open, closing it the moment he sees your beaming smile, a blush coating his cheeks.

"do you always stare at me when i sleep?" he mumbles, his fingers dipping under the hem of your sleep shorts. "do birds fly?" "you're a creep, you know that?" laughing, he lets you hold his eyes open with your fingers, the indigo glow of them making you glow brighter in turn. that was what it meant, after all – the subzero color now warm, as you illuminated the room with your love for chan. "yeah? well you're creeping your fingers into my panties, so maybe shut up."

your lips are addicting, he could never get enough of them as you brush them against him. both sets, of course.

kidding. sort of. not at all. he loves you, okay? that's all that matters.

"you should check your email, channie." you murmur against his neck, and he nods his head, watching as you try not to smile. "oh i should, should i?" ignoring the raise of his eyebrow, you reach for chan's phone, plopping it on his bare chest. chan lolls his head back, hands relocating to your hips as he pulls you on top of him. your cheeks heat at the soft love bites on his pec, but shake it away as his voice snakes into your head

"you seem a little too excited, baby." he ruffles your hair as he unlocks his phone, and you just bite your lip as he scans the screen. "tell me, sorcerer, what's the news?" your voice bounces off the walls, with chan just squeezing your hip in response.

from: spellboundnews@spellbound.edu

dearest bang chan,

it is our honor here at the spellbound institute of magic to let you know that you have been chosen to be published in this year's edition of the spellbound sorcerer. such an honor is only awarded to those with extraordinary skill. 

we've also made the unanimous decision for you to speak at this year's annual convention, taking over the healing trifecta's booth. more information will be provided as the date approaches.

we look forward to seeing you and professor y/l/n there.

signed,

dr. kang seulgi

dr. min yoongi

master sorcerers

spellbound institute of magic

his eyes flicker to yours, your grin so wide, it's infectious. "i'm getting published." "you're getting published!" you cheer loudly, and chan feels his cheeks heat as you pepper his face in kisses. "you're getting published, baby! we have to celebrate! let's ask your parents to dinner, yeah? we can get a cabin for the weekend, so they don't have to drive home so late."

he forgets how you pried the truth about his parents out of him, but he's almost sure it was last tuesday when you made him beg for you to sit on his face. almost sure, but he doesn't really care anymore. after all, he'd warmed up to you.

"i'm so proud of you, channie." your voice is gentle as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, and he nods, burying his face in your chest as embarrassment spreads in his. "hey, you can't hide from me. what happened to the praise kink? don't you want to know how good you're doing?" "i told you that in confidence!" he swats at your leg as he nestles into your laughter. "i know! it's just me and you here, what's the problem?! let me praise you!"

"never. come on, let's read my stupid essay." he throws the comforter off his legs, and you huff as you climb off his lap. sitting up on the edge of the bed, you lean against his back, your arms hooked around his broad shoulders. the same ones full of your nail marks, a few imprints of your teeth scattered around them. "i graded it, i already read it." "well, praise me while i read it." he snorts, and you press a soft kiss to his shoulder. "mm, okay. i'll take what i can get."

bang chan

professor y/l/n

identity theory

if you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it. – tony stark, spider-man: homecoming (2017)

the fall was slow, like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement.

i've been lost before – in grocery stores, misunderstanding assignments. i've even been lost in the woods before, riddled with anxiety standing within the trees. so uniform, full of belonging. those trees know where their purpose lies.

me? i've been wandering this world not knowing where my purpose lies, what i'm meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose. this is a feeling of disorientation, isolation, off course. it's all the same anyway, isn't it?

i spent years looking for answers – from the day i was dropped off at the academy to the day i met professor y/l/n. life was well sullied with fear, a feeling of desperation as i felt my time running low. i willingly put myself in danger, hopping from dimension to dimension with the aid of some friends to find something to ease my worries, and came up empty. answers will find you, not you them.

another thing i failed to consider was that i perhaps had my answer all along. from the natural instinct to protect and take care of the people i hold close, to the agony of being away from my family – all i needed was a catalyst. something to throw me even more off course, even more confusing than what life had come to be before her.

professor y/l/n has brought me to life. truly, i could never say enough to express the appreciation i have for her, but i will attempt it any chance i get. an enigma, an anomaly, a paradigm – she is far, far more than these words could begin to define. she's selfless, she's full of light and i could never understand that. my admiration for her goes well beyond this lifetime, and like the praying mantis, she was a beacon of guidance.

her story is full of twists and turns as she allowed me to indulge. from the flickering of the glow around her, to understanding that only the deepest of her indigo hue glows for me, i'm honored to say the least. i will never get enough of her story, of her truths, of her. the idea that love lies in the hands of the beholder is entirely true in this case. to be loved is to be known, and she read me far beyond my wildest dreams the moment her golden cast laid upon me. 

eckhart tolle says that, to love is to recognize yourself in another. i have never experienced something as deep as this, nor have i ever seen myself in y/n – and i'm glad i don't. my insecurities, my flaws, what i dislike about myself, are my own. however, i know she sees something i don't, and i trust that. i trust her, with my entire being. without her, i'd have no clue of my purpose. to younger me, who is still wondering the answer to that, i propose this.

your purpose is to love. love beyond your ways, love selflessly. love selfishly, like it's all you can do. like it's all you're capable of, because the moment you lay eyes on y/n? you will see, it is. loving her is all you can do. life without love is meaningless, life without her is hopeless.

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[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Girl

Chapter 1

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Mature. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: What happens when you discover your husband has been cheating on you? You call his best friend to help comfort you. Warnings: Dieter's POV, infidelity, heartbreak, some allusions to smutty thoughts but nothing extreme, pining, fluff, comfort, drug and alcohol mentions, Dieter's down bad for his best friend's wife. Words: 2,900

A/N: This was written for @punkshort's anniversary AU challenge. I received husband's best friend Dieter Bravo. I've been in the Dieter den lately, so of course I had a lot of fun writing this soft, pining side of him. The film featured in this fic, The Philadelphia Story, is one of my favorite movies ever, and I wanted to use it in this. Mike, Dex, and Tracy are all characters in the movie. FYI… the movie is free on Tubi. :)

Next Chapter

Masterlist

___

He can't do this. He absolutely cannot do this. 

“Dieter, I– can you just come over? I don’t want to be alone.” 

He has to do this. He absolutely has to do this.

Your voice is so defeated, bereft, empty. It pains him to even think of the despair you feel inside.

How fucking dare he. Fucking Warren. He wonders why he feels like he owes him his friendship, his time, his loyalty. Fuck that. Breaking your heart, leaving your bright light dim after taking everything from you. He’s sat idly by for years numbing the pain of watching his closest friend pilfer you, the girl of his dreams. 

Eight years of marriage gone in a blink of an eye just so Warren can fuck and supposedly fall in love with his brand new leggy blonde coworker. Warren’s always been good at taking what he wants. Hell, he took you away from him. Yeah, Dieter may have an Oscar… but he doesn’t have the girl. 

He drives to your house, the same home you used to share with your husband. He wishes he could trade in his mega mansion and live with you in the two story colonial made warm and inviting only under your touch. Warren liked to remind you he paid for it all, but what use is money when there’s no heart?

He locks his car and inhales a deep breath before taking the walkway to the side entrance, the one only close friends use. The fresh fragrance of the peonies that you planted all over the yard makes his heart ache even more for you as he opens the door. 

The house is quiet, save for the sound of your sniffles, a singular lamp casts the living room in a solemn umber tone. 

“Sweets?” He can’t help it, he’s called you that since the first night he met you in that Venice dive bar all those years ago. He was infatuated with you from the first time he saw you, smiling and laughing with your friends, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He introduced himself, you shouted your name back, grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor. He kissed you when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. God, your lips tasted like sugar from those damn overly sweet drinks. 

Your head surfaces from the couch, the sight of you wounds him… red rimmed eyes, tear streaked face, and puffy lips. You look like hell and yet you’re more beautiful than any gorgeous actress he’s acted alongside. 

He joins you on the couch, gathering your blanket covered form in his arms trying to calm your shaking sobs with a kiss against the top of your head. He rocks you like a baby, shushing you and holding you tight. His big brown eyes blink back tears, tamping down the guilt he feels over how much he loves holding you. 

He’s never been good at these situations, he’s a great actor and can cry on command, but when it comes to consoling and emotions, he’s always easily overwhelmed. His mind races, too terrified to do wrong by you; all he can think of is your favorite movie. He grabs the remote, navigating the menu to play the film. He might forget where he puts his keys or what he has for breakfast but he always remembers everything about you. Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant battle for Katherine Hepburn’s heart. Ouch. He wishes he would have fought harder for you all those years ago.

You cuddle into his arms closer, sniffling out a soft “thank you” when the movie begins.

Tracy breaks Dex’s golf club. He hopes you’ll do the same to Warren’s once you summon the strength. 

Dieter also loves this movie, the both of you first connected over your shared love of classic cinema. You wanted to act, Warren put an end to that… he didn’t want to ‘share you’ with the world. He’s so tired of Warren’s bullshit, he’s so fucking pissed off, all of those wasted years you could have been happy alone… or with him. 

He’s so angry he could kill Warren. He reminds himself now’s not the time for vexation, settling deeper against the soft cushions, cradling and softly assuring he’s here for you. Dex walks back into Tracy’s life on the screen; he prays Warren won’t be able to do the same. He calms his anger at Warren by pretending he’s here watching a movie with his favorite girl, ignoring the reality that he’s holding your shattered heart and body, picking up the mess that his so-called “good guy” best friend made. He’ll take Warren’s mess any day.

Your bleary eyes focus on the black and white film playing on the TV. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and moves to pull his hand away. A tiny “no, stay” whimpers out of your mouth, his fingers remain. He doesn’t stop gently rubbing your soft skin through the whole movie. 

Mike professes his feelings to Tracy. “No, you're made out of flesh and blood. That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Tracy. Full of life and warmth and delight. What goes on? You've got tears in your eyes.”

He feels the quote in his bones, in his heart, in every single drug and drink he’s taken trying to get you out of his head. You’re golden, Warren has left you rusted. 

It’s always been you. His marriage to Anika, he stood at the altar dreaming of you walking through that Las Vegas chapel doorway. The dissolution of those vows arriving soon after, he signed his name on the divorce papers while giddily anticipating your arrival to soothe him. His fuckboy ways he’s now so famous for, he always thinks about touching your body and hearing your moans whenever he enters whatever pretty person opens their legs for him. 

The credits roll. You sit up and stretch while he mourns the loss of your body against his.

“Do you need anything?” He asks, adjusting the blanket on your shoulders. 

“No,” you croak out, “I– thank you for coming over. I think this is it Dee, I can’t do this again. What did I do wrong?” Your head buries into your hands, a new batch of tears begin falling.

“No, no, no, baby, no,” he grabs your arms, wrapping his hands over yours and squeezing. “You’ve done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. Warren– he’s,” he sighs, “I don’t even recognize the friend I once knew.” 

Your solemn nod and downcast eyes almost causes his heart to break and fall on the ground next to yours. 

“Sweets, he’s a fucking idiot,” he tries to stop his words from coming out, but he loses the fight. Blame it on too many years of standing to the side and watching Warren slowly take away everything you loved brick by brick. “You a–you are brilliant, funny, beautiful, caring, y-you deserve the world.”

“You just have to say that…” your voice is so small, so infantile. 

“I don’t,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from divulging more. “Trust me Sweets, I–I don’t.”

He dreams of the moment he’ll be able to tell you how he feels, how he’s always felt, how hard it’s been to watch his closest friend snuff out the light of the girl of his dreams, how he’ll never forgive himself for standing idly by while escaping in a haze of drugs and alcohol. Easy vices he found that could never mend his envious heart. 

He changes the subject, distracts you, and mostly himself, from letting his true feelings out. “Did you want to watch another movie?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I really want a bath. I feel so dry, my eyes are burning.”

He tucks down the thoughts of you in a bathtub, on normal days he’d send himself down a spiral thinking of you naked, rubbing soap across your body, humming a contented sigh and stretching out your relaxed limbs. 

“I’ll go get it ready for you,” he says, rising off the couch and heading towards the stairs.

“C-could you do it in the guest room? I-I don’t want to be in… our room alone,” your voice cracks with embarrassment.  

He turns back to you, his head falls at your request and the look of shame across your face. He strides over and kneels in front of you, gathering your hands in his and holding them tight. “Whatever you need Sweets,” he stares into your eyes, “whatever you need.”

A small smile lifts the side of your mouth, his heart thumps against his chest at the realization he made you happy. “Thank you Dee, you’re the best.”

He nods before standing up and heading for the guest room upstairs. 

Each step he takes the more his sense of duty to help and improve your terrible day blooms inside of him. He walks into the guest room, the same room he stays in when he parties too much, usually because alcohol helps him numb the want for you he holds inside. He flicks the bathroom light on, admiring everything you designed, this house is your house, he’s going to fight like hell to make sure you keep it. 

He turns the tap on making sure the water is hot enough for you before placing a towel on the stool next to the tub. He wonders where you always get the fluffiest towels from, just another layer of your softness and care for the things around you. A bottle of bath oil lays on the tub edge, he picks it up and smells the sweet scent of almond and honey before pouring a bit into the warm water. 

He turns around when he hears you walk into the bathroom. A shy smile is on your face, you’re still so beautiful even when you look utterly devastated. 

“I think it’s warm enough for you,” he says, swishing his hand in the bathwater. “Do you want the jets?”

“I’ll take care of it Dee, thanks,” you begin unbuttoning your pajama top, revealing your light pink bra. You’re so comfortable in front of him, if only you knew the way he thinks about you. Dieter swallows, and with the heaviest most unreluctant body moves around you to the doorway. He’d do anything to watch this, but not tonight. You’re too vulnerable, he can’t take advantage of his dream. 

“Just let me know if you need anything,” he offers before shutting the door, hating that he knows it’s best to be a better man.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, a guilty smirk develops when he realizes it’s the same bed he’d touch himself on whenever he’d overhear your moans as Warren took the body Dieter always craved. He plays with the gold ring in his ear, he wonders if Warren’s still wearing his wedding ring.

His head perks when he hears the sound of your feet dipping into the tub, your body settling into the water, and the sigh you let out as you relax into the warm bath. He fights the lust coursing through his body, you’re naked and only ten feet away from him. 

Distract, distract, distract, he thinks to himself reaching for the remote and turning the TV on to a rerun of South Park; he turns the volume down, he just can’t fathom drowning out the sounds of your bath, he likes hearing the whoosh of water as you move. 

“Dee,” you shout from the bathroom, “I–can you get me my robe from my room? It’s hanging up behind the bathroom door.” 

“Of course,” he steadfastly gets up, “I’ll be right back.” 

The last time he was in your room was when you and Warren purchased the house, he still remembers the jealousy he felt that day; watching Warren kiss his pretty wife in his brand new picturesque house complete with the shiny white picket fence. Norman fucking Rockwell could never paint a more perfect picture of suburban paradise. 

He looks at the bed with the pretty floral quilt laid atop it… you’re probably so warm and soft to sleep next to. There’s a frame on your bedside table holding a photo of you and Warren laughing on some grand vacation he probably took you on to get back in your good graces. He wonders what it would be like to feel your head against his chest, to have you so close he could feel your laughter vibrate against him. You have all sorts of lotions and tchotchkes on your table, quite a contrast from the clean table top on Warren’s side. He can almost hear his friend’s voice complaining about all of your clutter. 

He finds your robe and brings the soft downy fabric to his nose inhaling the scent of you, this must be what an angel smells like. So sweet.

He takes one last glance at your bed and imagines seeing you asleep under the covers, leaving you in your peaceful slumber every morning and going downstairs to make you coffee. He gets lost in his fantasy while walking back to the guest room, ignoring the photos of you and Warren that hang on the walls.

He taps against the bathroom door and holds out your robe, the thought crosses his mind yet again that you’re behind the ornate white piece of wood fully naked. You crack open the door, peeking your head out, your hair is wet, he tries to shush his brain thinking about how wet the rest of your body must be. You look better, more fresh faced; a sense of pride settles inside of him that he’s helped you tonight.

“Thank you Dee,” you smile and grab the robe before closing the door. 

He settles on the bed, stretching out on the mattress and resting his back against the headboard. Nervousness rears its head for what comes next. He knows he’s going to see you soon, your relaxed body will be wrapped in your soft robe… he has to be good and resist any sort of desire. He hasn’t been good at saying no to temptation, but you’re so much more special than a joint, a drink, or a pill. 

The bathroom door opens, there you are, freshly bathed and beautiful, your legs peek out from under the fleece fabric.

He swallows when you climb on the bed and sit next to him. Your legs are smooth and shiny from your bath, his mouth waters at the sight.

“He hated cartoons,” you whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

“I like cartoons,” you say, picking at a loose piece of fleece on your robe.

“I know. Cartoons are the best,” he doesn’t know how else to respond.

Your heart might be fractured right now, but the comfortable silence that’s shared between the two of you makes his heart race as the four kids from South Park get caught in hi-jinks. You chuckle as Butters gets adopted by Paris Hilton. He loves your laugh, hearing it tonight means even more to him. 

You scoot closer to him, he tries to calm his rapid heartbeat and breathing when you place your head on his chest. You smell of that saccharine bath oil he poured, he tamps down the thoughts of how it’d taste on your skin. 

“Dieter,” your head angles up to look at him, “c-can you sleep here with me?”

“Of course baby,” stop calling her baby, “a-anything you need.” 

“I’m just… I-I’m so tired and I don’t want to–”

“You don’t have to say a thing,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer. 

You yawn a “thank you,” as your eyes flutter shut against his chest. 

Fucking Warren, you’re a goddamn idiot rushes through his head. He would give everything up to feel this every night. The Oscar, the mansion, the designer clothes, the luxury cars, gone in a blink of an eye if he could feel this sensation over and over again. To protect you, to console you, to love you… He lays wide awake next to you, his arm stays wrapped around your beautiful sleeping form all night. 

He can’t imagine what the next few days, weeks, and months will be like for you, all he can do right now is hold you in this guest bedroom bed and vow to stand by your side once you wake. He wishes he would have intervened earlier, saved you from ever feeling this way, of ever thinking you weren’t worth the world. 

Soft snores escape your slightly ajar mouth, you look so peaceful and beautiful. He’s dreamt of being able to wake up to this sight every morning ever since that first night in the bar, when he should have been the one to take you home… not Warren. 

Next Chapter

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— WILD FLOWER

SUMMARY : dean gets hit by a spell when fighting a witch and assumes it was harmless or ineffective. he was wrong, but at least he wasn’t dead. he’s a woman now. 

PAIRING : fem!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, fingering, oral sex, fem!dean (idk, that’s not a warning), misgendering?

WORD COUNT : 5.5k

A/N : title from RM’s song. this was new but very interesting, and I don’t regret it. I imagined dean as a combination of margot robbie and elizabeth olsen?? yeah, idk lol, yall can picture whoever you want. (I hate my 18 year old writing, but here it is) XXX

Dean grunted as he let himself fall into the backseat of the Impala. Sam and Y/N looked at each other and Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she debated walking into the backseat with Dean or riding shotgun. 

“Dean, keys,” Sam reached his hand inside the car and Dean whined quietly, but started to search his jeans for the keys. Y/N watched Dean struggle with finding the keys, a loving smile growing on her face, and he held them out for Sam to take at last. “Sit with him, make sure he doesn’t die or something,” Sam joked to Y/N.

“Fuck you, man,” Dean grunted, moving slightly as Y/N slipped in the backseat with him snickering at him. Dean snuggled into Y/N, mumbling softly against her thigh as she played with his hair.

“You feeling okay, D?” 

He hummed softly and nodded. “‘M just sleepy.” 

She wanted to scold him for jumping in front of her when the witch cast her spell. He knew that she couldn’t be hurt, she had no idea why he would do that. Maybe it was just a habit, but it’s been a long time since he’d treated her like that, as if she were fragile and could easily die. 

She was worried, but he eventually fell asleep with his face pressed into her stomach, curled up on his side. He looked so adorable when he slept, a little smile tugged at her lips and she took the blanket they kept in the backseat and placed it over his body. 

“Think he’s gonna be okay?” Sam asked quietly as he drove, glancing at Y/N through the rearview mirror. He also looked concerned, his eyes wide and puppy-like, his teeth chewing at the inside of his cheek.

“S’long as I’m alive, he’ll always be okay,” she promised, caressing Dean’s cheek with her thumb. Sam let out a shaky breath, relaxing in his seat while his hands flexed on the steering wheel.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Sam murmured, focusing on the road. Y/N looked away from Dean and gazed at Sam with a little smile, her eyes soft. “I’m glad you’re always here and have our backs. I know it was your choice to come with us all those years ago, but.. you’ve stayed with Dean and me—even after everything. I know anyone else woulda run for the hills, but you actually love my brother in ways I’ve never seen anyone be loved. He deserves you and you deserve him, you two make each other so happy…” 

She blinked at Sam, confused by his sudden speech, she figured he must have been anxious at Dean’s current state. Still, his words had impact. It was no secret she was head over heels for Dean and it was no secret he was just as in love with her. It made her stomach clench delightfully, her face heating up as she imagined how easily everyone else can see the love they have for each other. 

She looked down at Dean, smiling wider at his peaceful face before quietly saying, “you don’t need to thank me, Sam.” 

“No, I know… I just… I’m glad you’re in our lives,” he told her bashfully, smiling at her through the rearview mirror. She looked up and smiled back at him, letting out a small laugh that made him relax immediately.

“I’m glad you’re both in my life too,” she said quietly. A peaceful silence descended within the Impala, the occasional little rock hitting the metal frame while Sam drove as smoothly as he could back to the motel they were staying at. 

Thankfully, the sun wouldn’t start rising for a few hours which meant they could catch a little sleep on their last night at the motel before heading off to the Bunker. More importantly, Dean would get some extra sleep—and Y/N was thrilled that he would be able to sleep fully until morning.

Dean whined and nuzzled into Y/N’s stomach when she tried moving him out of the Impala so he could sleep in a bed. He slapped her hand away and mumbled some nonsense into her tummy until Sam returned to check on them and roughly slapped his brother’s shoulder.

“Ow,” Dean flinched, slowly getting up to rub his shoulder with a pout while Y/N and Sam laughed at how childish he sounded. “You’re both mean…” he muttered, pecking Y/N’s lips just because he could before sleepily stumbling out of the Impala, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Y/N took the opportunity to gently smack his ass as his jacket and shirt rode up his body. 

He smirked at her, pulling her into his arms to kiss her which made Sam groan in disgust, mostly playful. She giggled into the kiss, clutching Dean’s shirt as he held her face in his warm palms.

“Alright then,” Sam cleared his throat. When Dean held Y/N in place, his tongue lazily slipping past her lips as he tilted his head for a better angle, Sam scratched the back of his neck and rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna shower,” he said quickly, and made his escape. Dean chuckled, finally pulling away from his girlfriend.

“Will you make me sleep on the couch if I don’t wanna shower?” He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, it made her smile adoringly at him. Dean could surprisingly pull that look off quite well and she had to resist rolling her eyes—mostly at herself for melting as soon as he looked at her that way. 

“Just sleep in clean clothes and brush your teeth,” she murmured, kissing him softly. He hummed quietly, nodding his head, accepting her proposition. 

“What if I sleep naked?” He wondered with a smirk, staring down at her. He bit his lip, raising his brows as he held her close to him. She laughed and rested her head on his chest, her ear pressed over his heart, listening to the cadence of his relaxing heartbeat.

“I would love that, but unfortunately, we share a room with your brother…” She moved away from him to close the door. He groaned in annoyance, holding her pinky with his. “I know,” she said dramatically, tugging him to the motel room, fully intertwining their fingers, “if only you could sleep naked next to me at all hours, every night.” 

He chuckled softly at the thought, spinning her around to face him with his arms around her waist. She gasped dramatically as he opened the door, but before he could kiss her, she put her finger to his lips, “better yet, what if you were naked at all hours, every day too?” He stumbled in with a laugh, kicking the door closed, and pressing her against the wall.

“Is that what you picture if we have our own home?” He murmured, kissing her passionately and sloppily dragging his lips down her neck. “Me, walking around naked so I can fuck you whenever I want?” He grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around him. 

“Dean…” she moaned, “we can’t…” 

He rutted against her slowly, her hands twisting in his shirts, as his warm breath fanned over her neck. He was already hard, it was driving her crazy to feel him against her clothed core, wetness pooling between her legs.

“Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, “I know.” He let her down gently and kissed her forehead. “Sorry,” he whispered, kissing her forehead again before he pulled away and started to strip.

“Don’t apologise for that,” she chuckled, stripping off her dirty clothes and putting on a clean pair of panties as he stood there, naked.

“I was apologising to your panties, mostly, and your pussy,” he bit his lip and nodded at her playfully, “because I bet they’re soaked, just ruined, and that you were expecting my dick inside you.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she chuckled, stealing a shirt from his duffel bag and grabbing some new boxers for him.

“I…” she laughed, shoving his boxers against his chest, “stop distracting me.” She walked past him as she put his shirt on and laughed when he pulled her into him again. His warm hands moved up her sides, lifting the shirt she wore as he pressed himself against her, his cock squeezed between their bodies. “I’m serious,” she chuckled, looking over at the bathroom door where the water was still running as Sam showered.

He sighed and let her go, dramatically putting his boxers on and standing there with his hands on his hips. “Better?” He asked, rolling his eyes playfully when she peeked at him from over her shoulder and then smiled at him.

“Not really, but I asked you to, so, I guess.” She smiled at him and pulled him closer to her. He moved with her smoothly, holding her close and plopping down on the bed with her in his lap. “Sammy's gonna come out soon,” she warned as he kissed her again and kneaded her ass, his hands warm and rough. 

“I know,” he whined, falling back on the bed, closing his eyes, his thumbs rubbing circles on her hip bones. “Don’t get mad, I don’t wanna brush my teeth, I’m still a little tired from the spell.” Her eyes softened and she leaned over him, kissing his hairline, dropping another kiss on his forehead.

“I’m never going to get mad at you, you know that, Dean.” She kissed his nose and then his lips before climbing off him and laying down with her head in the pillow. He turned to look at her tiredly, but managed to smile at her happily.

“I know, I just like being dramatic.” Instead of claiming his spot closest to the door, he settled between her legs, nudging them apart with his knees. 

“I love you so much, Dean,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought him down to rest his head on her chest. He quickly relaxed, a soft sigh warming up her chest as he nuzzled between her breasts as comfortably as he could. 

“I love you, Y/N, so much,” he mumbled shyly against her chest. His face heated up, but he hoped it made her smile. Her fingers began combing through his hair, and matched with her steady heartbeat and her warmth, they lulled him until he fell back into unconsciousness again. 

When he woke up, it was already sunny outside. He knew Sam must have gone out for a run, and after that, to pick up some coffee and tea for Y/N. He sneaked his hand under his girlfriend’s shirt with his eyes closed. Dean felt her stir when his fingers gently brushed against her nipple, a shudder rippling through her that made him smirk.

He lowered his hand and tugged at her panties, hoping to rouse her. It made her moan softly in protest. When he went to kiss her, a curtain of honey-coloured locks scared the shit out of him and he nearly screamed at the top of his lungs, but settled for a quick, “oh, shit!” 

He stumbled off of Y/N and his wiggling on the bed woke her.

“Dean?” She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the naked woman on the bed who was looking down at herself in shock. It sobered Y/N and she scrambled far away from the unfamiliar woman. “Dean?! Is this some kind of joke?” Y/N got out of bed, her eyes trailing up and down the woman’s body.

“Y/N, it’s me! It’s Dean!” In his attempts to get up, his boxers fell from his slimmer, curvier body, and Y/N froze, staring at him in the eyes. Green eyes. Dean pulled the boxers up and held them at his waist. 

“What?” She asked quietly.

“It’s me. It’s Dean. I’m Dean,” he said more calmly, making his way to her on the bed, walking on his knees. “Im kinda freaking out, babe,” he admitted quietly. Y/N’s eyes flickered down to Dean’s breasts again and then Y/N started to laugh. “What? What’s so funny? Sweetheart, we need to find out what happened! What the fuck is going on?” He didn’t care that she was laughing, he still moved in for a hug which she easily gave to him, her arms wrapping around his, her, neck.

“I’m sorry, D,” she murmured, burying her face in his neck and smelling the same scent that always came from Dean. “I think it was the witch, honestly,” she mumbled, pulling away slightly to look him in the eyes, his green eyes and cute freckles that she always loved. 

“But she’s dead…” Dean whispered, sitting down, his long hair covering her chest. “S-shouldn’t I…? Then why is the spell still working?” He wondered exasperatedly, running his hand down his face. “I need some clothes. And-and we need to get to the Bunker, read up on this shit…” he started to ramble as he got off the bed, letting his boxers fall.

“We can call Rowena,” Y/N suggested, but Dean was too busy rifling through his duffle bag. “D, slow down, I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes.” She got off the bed and stopped Dean, who was still pretty tall. He instinctively leaned down to kiss her, his fingers tangling in her soft hair. She kissed him back, to his surprise, as if he were the same, as if it didn’t matter to her that he was a woman now. At least for however long he had to be one before they turned him back.

“I wanna wear that dress that drives me crazy when you wear it,” he murmured playfully against her lips. She laughed at Dean, pulling away completely to dig through her duffle bag for a pair of her underwear and a bra. “Babe, your boobs are bigger than mine,” he pouted, experimentally holding his breasts in his hand and rolling his nipples between his fingers. He gasped softly and Y/N’s face heated up as she watched him touch himself. “Shit, am I pissing myself?” He stopped touching himself to look between his legs and then relaxed when he realised what was happening. “Oh,” he said with wonder.

“Stop that,” Y/N chuckled, placing the bra back into her bag while Dean pulled Y/N’s underwear on. She then took out the dress Dean was talking about, wondering if he was serious or not. “Are you sure?” She asked, holding it up for him to inspect it—even though he’d seen it millions of times. He rubbed his thighs together and then looked up at her, his face flushed.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, getting up and taking it from her, letting him help putting it on. She bit her lip, realising that he was turned on right now. “Man, why am I so wet?” He whined as Y/N fixed the straps of the thin and soft dress. 

“I don’t know,” she murmured, fixing the dress on Dean’s body and grabbing the white, silky strap of cloth that went around the waist to make a neat bow at his waist. “Why do you think you’re wet?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Uh,” Dean looked down at himself, bit his lip as he blushed and then looked at her. “Probably because you still turn me on and I’m wearing your panties,” he told her, licking his lips, he stepped forward, watching her stand up straight as he came closer. “I mean, I know wearing panties always feels good to me, but it’s always different when I know they’re yours,” he confessed, looking down as he sneaked his hand under her shirt and into her panties. Both their breaths started to pick up and he moaned softly, finding her as soaked as he felt. 

Just then, the doorknob started to rattle and Dean grunted in annoyance. He moved his hand out from between her legs and licked his fingers clean of her slick before kissing her forehead and heading to the bathroom. Sam froze as he watched a woman—Dean—wad to the bathroom while Y/N stood there, flushed, before facing Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, closing the door behind him to place the cup holder on the table. 

“Uh, the witch made Dean a woman,” Y/N said bluntly, putting on some jeans to look a little more decent. 

“The.. What?” Sam blinked at Y/N, then seemed to have let the information sink as he sat down, abandoning the coffee cup he was drinking from when he came in. “Are you sure?” He asked, even though he knew Y/N knew what she was doing. She nodded and took the cup that had the tea string hanging out of the cup. “I’ll call Rowena as we make our way to the Bunker, it’s just a few hours away…” Sam stretched a little and froze when Dean came out of the bathroom, using a towel to clean his face.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, hating the way Sam looked at him in shock. Dean took the last coffee on the cup holder and started to drink from it. “I know, I’m so hot like this, too,” he smirked up at his baby brother. Sam rolled his eyes, needing nothing more to know that it was, in fact, Dean as a woman. 

Y/N chuckled and made her way to the bathroom to get ready, letting Sam and Dean talk about whatever they needed to before stepping out. She got her stuff ready, found Sam perplexed, prepared, and Dean amused and curious, before they all headed out to the car to get to the Bunker.

Dean pouted as Rowena started to scan his body using a spell, Y/N stifled a laugh, which made Dean smile. As soon as Sam got in the Impala, he started to call Rowena and told her to be there to help Dean out. She was obviously there, faster than either of them cared to mention.

Rowena had also checked Dean out as soon as she saw him, which Dean liked, despite his sassy remark to her objectifying stare. He plopped down on the bed of the infirmary and let Rowena do her thing, Y/N was sitting nearby as Sam anxiously chewed on his fingernails. 

“Honestly, as long as I’m not gonna die…” he trailed off, “but please tell me you can turn me back.” Rowena sighed and smiled at Dean, her eyes mischievous and naughty as she patted Dean’s head like a dog.

“You’re not going to die,” she reassured him and Dean slapped her hand away, sitting up on the bed. “And the spell will run its course in a few days, like a fever,” she explained. Dean listened as he played with the hem of the dress he wore. “Tell me, what’s it like for you being a woman? Have you two already explored your new body?” She asked mischievously. Sam cleared his throat, expressing his discomfort. Rowena rolled her eyes at him, but smirked at Dean’s blush as he crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I’m asking because I can change you back now… Unless..” she trailed off, looking between Y/N and Dean with a knowing look, “unless you two wanna experiment…” She added casually, shrugging and looking at her nails.

“Okay! I’m leaving now,” Sam said, not wanting to hear it or to embarrass Y/N and Dean for their choice. Sam decided he was going to leave the Bunker for a while and l text Dean that he’d be back in a week. Sam nodded to himself, getting some new clothes and his duffle bag, he wanted to give them some privacy. Maybe he could read all those books he wanted to read and stay in a motel for a while. Or he could call Eileen, yeah, he was gonna do that, spend some time with her and go on a date, too. 

“I’m not judging, I’m actually encouraging it,” Rowena said smugly, packing her things. Rowena didn’t need an answer, she had Dean figured out. He was confident and proud about his sex life; he was an experimenter, willing to try anything. Dean rolled his eyes at Rowena and got out of bed to stand next to Y/N. 

“Whatever, we’ll walk you out,” Dean grumbled, taking Y/N’s hand to help her off the chair as Rowena gave both of them a knowing look. Her dark eyes shone with amusement and flirtatiousness, which made Dean roll his eyes again as he took her other bag and walked out with Y/N. 

“I always knew you two were an interesting pair,” she laughed, “I mean, how do you get Y/N to try all these things? She seems too tame for things like these…” Dean smirked to himself, knowing Rowena couldn’t see his face; if only she knew how many times a lot of the freaky stuff they did were Y/N’s idea. He looked down at his girlfriend, his eyes full of affection and desire. She was so cute when she was flustered. 

Rowena gasped dramatically, her heels clicking as she hurried to stand next to them. “Don’t tell me, this child is the one who comes up with everything… I knew you were the most sheltered, Dean.” Rowena laughed, looking between both of them, and needing nothing, but their silence to confirm her statement. “Well, I’m just shocked… but very proud.” She squeezed Y/N’s shoulder, a genuine expression of pride and mischief shining in her grey-blue eyes. 

Y/N shook her head at the witch, allowing Dean to open the Bunker door for Rowena to make her exit. “Well, thanks for coming out to help, Rowena,” Y/N told her. Dean handed Rowena her bag and Rowena grinned at them.

“You’re welcome,” she kissed Y/N’s cheek formally and patted Dean’s shoulder, “have a fantastic week, lovebirds.” Rowena continued to tease as she walked out, leaving Dean and Y/N alone in the Bunker, both amused as they shut the door. 

“I’m gonna go look for Sam,” Dean said, looking down at his body, “and then I’m gonna shower.” He leaned over to kiss Y/N’s cheek, then kissed her lips, smiling adorably at her. 

“Just… go look for your brother,” Y/N chuckled shyly, walking past Dean just as his phone lit up on the war table. “Nevermind!” She shouted, taking Dean’s phone when she saw Sam’s name light up the screen above a message he sent. Dean raised a brow and walked over to her, looking over her shoulder to read whatever notification he got. 

SAMMY : I’m heading out with Eileen. I’m spending the whole week with her. You two have fun… No details, please.

Dean chuckled too, taking the phone when Y/N handed it to him. He typed out his response with a childish snicker and a grin. Y/N’s smile grew watching Dean look practically the same even as a woman.

Dean : Oh, you have plenty of time to finally sleep with her.. Unlike you, I’d like to hear the details… or Eileen will spill to Y/N and I’ll know anyway. Heh.

Dean proudly sent the message, his attention purely on his phone. He saw Sam had immediately read it and the text bubble appeared, so he stepped forward, leaning his hips against the table, nearly forgetting he was a woman. He quickly recovered and laughed at Sam’s response.

SAMMY : She wouldn’t… Stop that!

               Goodbye, Dean

Dean could already hear the annoyance from Sam through the text and he grinned to himself, looking to where Y/N was. A soft smile graced her pretty lips and Dean found himself smiling back immediately, and reaching out for her hand.

“Let’s shower together,” he said with a smile, his thumb brushing against her knuckles when she took his hand. She nodded at him, looking at Dean the same way she always had. It flustered him. 

While he walked with her to the bathroom, he couldn’t help squeeze her hand nervously—now that he was a woman. It was comforting that nothing had changed for her, that it didn’t matter what he looked like. If anything could display how she felt about him, this was the true testament of her love for him.

As much as he wanted to just get the shower over with, he couldn’t. He had no idea how to stop himself from being so horny, it was like starting all over again from puberty. He couldn’t focus on anything, but the desire for Y/N to touch him. He was so wet, everytime his thighs were too close, he could feel his panties sticking to his pussy, the cool feeling of wetness surprising him. 

He didn’t even realise he was already in the bathroom, until he felt Y/N tugging at the ends of the little bow she made around his waist to keep the dress snug against his curves. He focused on her, but the way it just seemed so natural to her that he was a woman now, it was confusing. Still, it was also nice, hoping that her love for him was just that pure and unconditional.

“I love you,” he mumbled. He felt shy saying that, but she looked up at him with her eyebrows raised slightly, pleasant surprise written all over her face, one side of her lips turning up just a little. She leaned forward and pecked his lips, repeating the same sentiment that made him feel warm, a flush that was different from the lust he’d been feeling all day. 

Dean started to take his dress off slowly, but Y/N stripped faster than he did, focused on the task of showering. She turned the shower on and waited patiently for Dean to get used to his lady parts and the difference in size of all his body. His arms were thinner and so were his legs, he was soft, but toned, and just slightly firm on his ass, he was squishy in all the places he liked Y/N to be. When he’d embarrassedly lowered his panties, Y/N watched, amused by the patch of wetness that drenched the crotch of the cotton. 

“Jesus, Dean,” she chuckled, stepping forward and curiously tugging Dean’s panties to get a clearer look at all the wetness. Dean blushed, now understanding why Y/N became so coy when he did or said things like that. He secretly liked it though, the way she pressed her fingers into the damp cotton and hummed as if it were nice against her fingertips. “You're so dirty,” she whispered, laughing softly. 

“I’m not used to this,” was all he managed to say. Y/N released his panties, letting them pool around his ankles. Dean swallowed, waiting in anticipation for Y/N to do something, anything really, just as long as he could get off. She’d mimicked what Dean did earlier to himself, her hands experimentally cupping Dean’s breast. Dean bit his lip, feeling his nipples tighten and tingle with the prospect of being touched.

Y/N was slow and curious in the way she handled him. Her thumbs gently circled around the nipple, observing them start to pucker up. The soft pads of her thumbs brushed against the little buds of his nipples and he found himself arching his chest the same way she did when he did that to her. 

It had the same effect on her as it had on him, and one of her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close so her warm mouth was latched onto his nipple. He moaned, feeling her fingers on his other breast, pinching and rolling his nipples, while she tongued the other expertly.

He felt his knees weaken and he steadied himself on the wall, a wave of wetness dampening his legs more. She released his waist, sucking his nipple into her mouth, her teeth pleasantly scraping the sensitive skin of his nipples. Her hand slid down his side, smoothly tracing the curve of his waist, down to his hips.

Her thumb brushed against his hipbone and it felt so damn good, Dean moaned again, squirming and hoping Y/N would show him mercy and put her fingers where she knew he wanted her to. Instead, she playfully tugged at his nipple and let it go with a pop, her warm breath billowing over the wetness and making shivers erupt on his skin. 

Dean felt his eyes roll back, felt so horny when she wrapped her arm around his waist again and repeated every little stroke of her tongue on his other nipple. This time, her free hand moved between his legs. Dean found himself spreading his legs when her palms sailed smoothly up the inside of his thigh, curving up to cup his pussy, her palm grinding against his swollen clit and her fingers pressing into his drenched entrance. 

He gasped, his fingers tangling in her hair, trying to pull her up so she would kiss him instead. She pulled away from his chest and let Dean kiss her, a surprised sound muffling against Dean’s lips. She didn’t stop palming his swollen clit, and Dean began to undulate his hips against her hand and she smirked. Even now, she loved making him desperate. 

“I need to cum,” he gasped against her mouth. Y/N nodded, circled Dean’s weeping entrance with two fingers and moved them up to his clit. She kissed Dean’s neck, licked his sweet skin and marked him as hers where she thought would look pretty against his skin. Dean’s heavy breaths and breathy moans caused a pool of arousal between her legs again. 

Y/N licked her lips, staring at Dean, and truly took him in. She took in the gorgeous curves of his body, his tiny waist and wide hips, the perfect roundness of his perky breasts, his nipples hard and shimmering with her saliva. He looked beautiful, ravenous, in the same way he’d make her feel when he had the body of a man. 

His hair was long and straight, a lighter brown colour. He was breathtaking, with strands curtaining above his chest and falling in front of his face, long tendrils of honey that nearly covered his green eyes. He looked at her breathlessly, wondering why she was so slowly, agonisingly massaging his clit. 

He hadn’t expected to see the same tenderness in her eyes that she’d usually gaze at him with, her eyes sparkling with wonder and love. Dean whined anyway, grasping her wrist to speed up and control the movements just when she began to trace the same freckles she’d seen on Dean’s other body with her eyes. 

She didn’t say anything, just snatched Dean’s wrist with her clean hand to keep him away as she easily slipped two fingers inside him. Dean gasped, not expecting the speed at which Y/N fingered him. Her fingertips easily found his g-spot, curled so deliciously against the sensitive ridges of his wall. His mouth fell open and he moaned her name loudly, feeling a coil begin to tighten in his tummy. 

He tugged at his nipples with both hands, squeezing his breasts and fucked himself against her quick fingers. Y/N stared up at him, captivated by every one of his hedonistic manoeuvres. Desire flourished between her legs and in her stomach at the sound of Dean’s wet cunt around her fingers. 

Y/N got down on her knees, her mouth sending warm breaths over his pelvis. Dean’s eyes snapped open to gaze down at Y/N with an intense hunger, wiggling his hips and abandoning one of his breasts to spread his folds with two fingers, encouraging her to put her mouth on his clit. 

She didn’t hesitate to flick his clit teasingly and he jolted, his head bumping against the wall. He moaned again, the feeling of her tongue’s perfect strokes drew him closer to his orgasm. The smoothness of movement aided by her saliva and Dean just didn’t care about holding back when he came, completely relaxing his muscles and letting it tear through him intensely.

Dean caught his breath against the wall, her fingers slowing down and stopping before her tongue did. Y/N sat back on her legs and licked her fingers clean while Dean watched her. Leaning forward for more, she lifted Dean’s thigh and pushed his legs open to lap up his clear cum and he moaned appreciatively.

“Come on, there’s still a lot more I have to show you.” She grinned at him mischievously, allowing Dean to relax and catch his breath. She stepped into the shower and stared at him for a moment.

“God,” he whispered and rolled his eyes, “it sucks that this is just temporary.” He entered the shower with her. 

“That’s enough time,” she reassured him with a grin. Dean gasped when Y/N manhandled him under the showerhead and used her fingers to clean him up, purposely brushing against his sensitive clit.

“I am so in love with you,” Dean breathed, pressing a loving kiss to her cheek. 

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[sailorrhansol]

Still Watching? | l.c (m)

❀ Pairing: Lee Chan x f. Reader 

❀ Summary: Blood and Popcorn with your newly minted boyfriend is your favorite. Except now you watch a lot less Buffy and a lot more of Chan. 

❀ Word Count: 2,153

❀ Genre: Established Relationship, PWP

❀ Type: Smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Shameless pwp, explicit language, explicit sexual content including nipple play, vaginal fingering, a little bit of teasing/edging, cheesy banter. 

❀ A/N: I am writing this as penance to @daechwitatamic to hold her over while I work on things that are not Lee Chan!! 

❀ A/N 2: This is the same couple from Blood & Popcorn but you do not need to read the first story to read this one :) 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“Honestly, it is so obvious this show was written by a man,” You mutter, watching as Buffy yells at Zander. “He wants to be a hero for her soooo bad.”

“Xander is the worst,” Chan sighs. You rise and fall with his chest, your back pressed against his front where you lay against him. His knees cage you in on either side of your hips, your ass planted firmly between his legs with his arms around your middle, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “He really thinks he should win the girl just because he’s a nice guy.” 

“Truly, he has like… very few other qualities than being a nice guy.” 

He hums. “At least Spike knows he’s an asshole. It’s guys like Xander who think just because they’re not blatantly awful that it makes them dateable.” 

“A lot of guys think that.” 

“Mhmm. I’m a rare breed.” 

You crane your neck to look up at him. You can hear and feel the steady thud of his heart, smell the hint of aftershave and menthol from his shower earlier, feel the heat of his skin. It makes you a little dizzy and you unfocus on the screen, studying the gentle curve of Chan’s mouth. 

“You’re surely something,” you mutter in response, grinning a little as you look away toward the screen. His fingers slip under your shirt, skimming your waist. You suppress a shiver, suddenly hyper aware of the way his fingers scrape against you. 

“I’m a nice guy and I know that it takes more than being a decent human being to get the girl.”

“Oh yeah? Remember the time it took four years to confess your feelings to me? What do you know, Lee Chan?”

“Hmm. Data is insufficient. Need more evidence regarding that specific example.” 

For a moment, you’re unable to respond, lids fluttering as Chan continues to caress your lower stomach and hips. His touch is completely innocent, no suggestion that he intends anything. That he means anything. It’s a motion that is instinctual for him, so naturally to have his hands on you that it almost makes it worse. 

Just knowing how easy it is for him to love you never fails to surprise you. You don’t know how you never saw it before. 

Now it seems silly to have ever thought that Chan was anything less than in love with you. It’s in the way he naturally gravitates toward you in every room. It’s in the way he can be totally focused on something else, but his hand reaches out for you, not even really noticing that he’s seeking you out. It’s  in the way that you mold so perfectly into his chest, made to be there. 

“You don’t know your own data?” you shoot back eventually, snuggling a little closer to him. If you could crawl into his hoodie, you would. For now, this is fine. “Seems like you don’t know much.” 

“Hmm?” His fingers stop moving. You feel the question hum against you. “I don’t know much?” 

“Nope.”

Your heart starts to pick up. Chan’s fingers start stroking your skin again but you feel the difference. His blunt nails scrape across your skin, raising goosebumps on your arms. He skims his hands higher and back down, touch light over your ribs. Every time his fingers dance up your side, his reach goes a little higher. 

A tightness forms in your throat. You try to keep your breathing even and will yourself not to squeeze your thighs. You are pressed too close to him for him not to tell if you squirm. Chewing your lip, you stare at the screen totally unseeing. 

“Hm.” Chan’s deep hum hints at trouble. You feel your hands get clammy. “I think I know some things. Like for example…” He trails off for a moment, hand brushing under your left breast. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, fighting a twitch. “I know that your favorite color on me is green.” 

“Green is a good color on anyone.”

“I know that you like the feeling…” His hand skates low this time, fingers dancing dangerously against the waistband of your shorts. “Of high thread count sheets.”

You snort. “Everyone likes good sheets, Chan.” 

“Good sheets are important,” he agrees. You feel him trace his pointer finger back up with deadly accuracy, following the swell of your breast upward, skating so close to your nipple that you stop breathing. “Everything alright? You stopped breathing.”

“What?” you squeak. “Oh, yep. I am great.” 

“I don’t know, baby. Are you feeling well? You seem… warm.”

Chan presses his palm flat to your chest, fingers splayed wide. His palm is warm and rough, his touch igniting a fire inside of you. The heat spreads outward, licking at every one of your nerves and setting them ablaze. 

In an effort to ignore him, you lick your lips and say, “Never felt better. I like her boots.” 

His chuckle is low. Throaty. You’re barely holding it together, feeling the ache between your thighs at the firmness of his touch. “See, I don’t know a lot about women’s fashion. But I do know those are not boots. Just like I know you’re not paying attention to the show, Bambi.”

You blink and stare at the TV. Chan’s right. Buffy is in sneakers, though in your unfocused haze they had been blurry and looked like boots from a distance. You swallow down the dryness in your throat, Chan’s hand still pressed flat and warm against your chest. 

“I know that your heart is pounding,” Chan murmurs, voice barely audible as he presses his mouth by your ear. Your eyes flutter shut. “I know that you’re trying really hard not to squeeze those thighs.” 

“You can’t possibly know that.” 

To prove his statement true, Chan’s thumb brushes upward, skating gently over a nipple. On command, your thighs squeeze and you feel the shake of his laughter behind you. 

“I know everything about you, Bambi.” His voice brushes against you like his soft touch. You melt, feeling your weight sink into him further. “I know that you don’t share your food with anyone but me. I know that your favorite episode of Buffy is Hush. I know that you think Buffy should end up with Spike. I know that you are probably soaked right now because being caressed drives you crazy.” 

“Insufficient data,” you breathe. “I recommend research.” 

“You know what? Agreed.” 

Chan moves fast. His hand moves from your chest to between your legs, hands slipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties before you can blink. Your lips part, a breathy noise escaping you as Chan drags a slow finger up your sticky folds. 

“What do you know,” he observes. His fingers idly trail up and down your slit, making you twitch against him. “I was right. Do I win anything?” 

“I thought you said nice guys shouldn’t just win the girl.” 

Chan presses his fingers firmly to your clit, a ripple of pleasure ebbing through you. Your hips lift off the couch slightly but he pushes you back down into his lap, other hand looping around your waist to lock you to him. “Maybe I’m not that nice.”

Slowly, he starts to retract his hand. You whimper, both of your hands shooting to grab the wrist belonging to the hand between your legs. He pauses, fingers pressed between your folds. “You are nice!” 

“Oh?”

“Very nice. You’re my very nice, very sweet boyfriend.” 

“I see.” 

He doesn’t move his hand at all. The space is filled with the low hum of Buffy fighting vampires, the blue flash of the screen falling against your silhouettes, body to body as he holds you tight. You try to get control of your racing heart, but that’s never been easy around Chan.

He knows it.  

“Maybe you know some things,” you admit slowly. “Maybe I was wrong.”

Chan’s resounding chuckle is dangerous, but he slides his hand back down. You loosen your grip on his wrist but keep your hands resting on his forearm, feeling the muscle flex under your fingertips as his fingers resume their debauched exploration. 

“See, that’s another thing I know. I know you hate being wrong, so if you’re wrong… it was because you were doing so intentionally.”

His words fall on unlistening ears. You’re too worked up by the simple way he plays you, too focused on the way his fingers gently circle your clit, the perfect stimulation. Too distracted by the way he dips his head down to sweep his mouth across your throat in open-mouthed kisses. 

“I know you’re… not listening.” He stops and you let out a strangled sound, nails digging into his arms. He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point. “Didn’t think so.”

“Chan.” 

“Hmm?”

“Please don’t tease me.”

“Why not? You were teasing me.” 

You pout. He can’t see it, but you know he knows it’s there. “I like to tease you. I have to keep you humble.” 

A long moan slips from your lips and you tilt your head back to Chan’s shoulder when he presses a finger into your aching cunt. You feel yourself twitch around him, hips swiveling for more friction. 

“Humble? How are you ever going to keep me humble when this pussy gets this wet after I’ve barely touched you?”

Well that’s true. You don’t care, though, turning boneless as Chan strokes you with his fingers properly. It feels so good. Only he knows how to touch you like this, familiar with every button to press and every contour to mold to. 

Heat flushes your neck. Chan presses his lips against your cheek, working your cunt with his fingers as he holds you steadfast. It feels like you might suffocate, totally trapped against him. His skin and breath are hot against you, the air thick. He breathes out a groan when your hips buck upward, Chan dropping all pretext of teasing you.

“Like that,” he breathes, heavy. “Do it exactly how you like it.”

Another finger drives you wild. You fumble over his name, squeezing your eyes shut and meeting the quick strokes of his hand. His palm presses firmly against your clit, letting you grind yourself against him for the extra stimulation. 

You burn up. Briefly you wonder if this flash of euphoric heat is what Icarus felt before the fall. The thought is chased away from the intense pressure in your stomach as Chan presses up against that spot inside you, making stars burst behind your eyes.

“Wait - I’m gonna come in my shorts,” you whine, realizing you still have them on. “Chaaaan.”

“So come in them,” he says simply. “Research has revealed that you have a washer and dryer down the hall, baby. Go ahead.” 

“Fuuuuck.” 

“Come for me. I know you want to.” 

You do want to. A moment of static builds up, your thighs squeezing around his hand so hard he can’t move and then you’re coming around his fingers, your nails biting into the skin of his wrist. His grip across your waist is like iron, holding you to him as you come undone. 

Chan’s mouth presses gentle kisses on your jaw, muttering soft I love yous and fuck yeahs against your burning skin. The burning doesn’t stop, your body flushed with heat as you sink away from your orgasm, turning to molten metal and melting into his hold. 

He leaves you like that for a few minutes, thighs shaking around the hand still shoved between your legs, fingers pressed deep inside of you. It feels intimate, and you crane your neck, driven by the desire to kiss him. Chan’s lips are already there because he knew you would want his lips against yours. 

Just like he knows everything about you. 

Chan’s lips are soft and gentle. His tongue brushes against yours in a slow dance and you lean up into him more, desperate for him. He laughs into the kiss, letting you have your way until you’re panting, sweaty and out of breath again. 

You sag, head on his shoulder as you pant. “Your fingers are still in me.”

“Mhm.” He presses them in harshly, making you jolt. It earns a deep laugh from him. “Maybe we should call this Popcorn & Pussy instead. We’ve barely gotten through a full night of episodes since we started dating.”

“Are you aware you make the worst jokes?” You open your eyes and glance at the screen, only to find that the show has paused between episodes, asking if you’re still watching and if you want to continue. “Are you still watching? No, Buffy. I’m not.”

“No problem.” Chan pulls his hand from between your legs, the wet squelch making you whimper. “I have something else you can watch.” 

“Oh?” 

Chan kisses your temple sweetly before getting up, letting you fall back against the couch while he kneels on the couch and pulls your legs toward his face. You inhale deeply, watching as he looks up through long lashes, a smirk on his face. “Still watching, Bambi?” 

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[inlovewithpandora]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — Summers Of Pandora ᝰ Day 25 - Exhibition

Artists — Tsireya x fem!Metkayina!reader

Lyrics — Tsireya’s not having fun at the annual festival the clan throws, the performers aren’t as enticing to her as they are to you so to keep herself happy she decides to have a little fun with you, by slipping her hands in your loincloth.

Music Advisory — smut (18+), porn w/ (little) plot, aged!up Tsireya, in public sex, fingering (r! receiving) , breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, mention of squirting, cum eating, implied exhibition kink ᝰ this fic does contain aged!up character smut so if you don’t like that type of content please don’t interact and continue scrolling!!

Duration — under 1k

Index — tanhì - star; bioluminescent freckle • mawey - calm

Words from Artist — This is my first time writing smut for Tsireya so let me know how you guys like the story and if you want to see more smut with her. This was fun fic to write and i enjoyed the plot of this! ys feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — event m.list・main m.list・event taglist ・prompt list

The moonlight is shining over Awa’atlu and the whole clan is gathered on the beach for the annual festival where the singers and dancers of the clan perform multiple songs and acts. Everyone is watching the dancers in awe while Tsireya is getting bored and restless. She’s been attending these events since she was young and over the years she’s grown tired of them. “y/n, can we go? I’m ready to leave.” She whines in your ear, wanting to go home and cuddle in your shared marui until you both drift off to sleep.

“No, ‘reya, just relax. It’ll be over soon.” You lean back and kiss her cheek while grabbing her arms, wrapping them around your waist as you sit on her lap, hoping that the physical touch will be enough to hold her over until the festival ends. You’ve always loved watching the dancers and how they performed difficult routines and executed them with such ease and grace, meanwhile, Tsireya isn’t slightly as amused by their performance and you can tell by the way she keeps on tracing circles on your skin.

You can hear the faint sound of her tail thumping against the sand which makes you realize that she is growing impatient. It’s been almost twenty minutes since her last plea to leave and at this point, she’s tired of waiting. The clan's energy is high and she can tell that the festival isn’t dying down any time soon, so she wants to find a sense of entertainment and have some real fun.

When you’re laser-focused on the angelic voice of the singers, Tsireya slips her right hand into your loincloth and starts circling her finger over your clit, causing you to jump slightly from the unexpected stimulation. “Tsireya, what are you doing?!” You whisper-yell as you grab her wrist to make her stop, causing her to use her left hand to smack your hand away. “Mawey, tanhì. You don’t want people to notice, do you?” She asks rhetorically as her hot breath trickles down your skin while she presses soft kisses against the crease of your neck.

The mischievousness in her voice annoys you because she knows exactly what she’s doing, intentionally wanting to turn you into nothing but a whimpering mess. You are about to spew out a rebuttal, but when you feel her tease your folds, a moan you were trying to repress slips out instead. “Tsireya, w-we can’t do this right now.” You can’t believe your mate is trying to do this in public, having you moan and squirm in her lap while there are people around to witness the lewd act that’s taking place between you two. Usually you hate the idea of this but with your brain feeling cloudy with pleasure it slightly turns you on that someone could be watching Tsireya touch and caress your exposed skin.

“Well, your body is telling me differently.” She retorts while fully thrusting her fingers into your heat, eliciting a whimper to fall from your lips. It is true, your words and actions are on completely different wavelengths. Your mouth is telling her to stop while you are practically riding her fingers, trying to make the pads of her fingertips touch the spongy part of your walls. “Just let me take care of you.” Her hand circles around your waist and moves up to your chest, moving the material that’s covering your left breast to the side, and begins to play with your hardened nipple.

“Mmm, shit!” You squeal, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure of her strokes and how she is fondling your body just the way you like. The fact that she is using your body as a source of amusement makes you even wetter than you’ve ever been before, your slick is literally dripping down her fingers and smearing on your inner thighs. “Oh—Tsireya!” You whine while throwing your head back to rest on her shoulder, feeling a sense of pressure build up in your stomach, a sign that it would only take a few more thrusts before you come completely undone.

Tsireya knows that you are only seconds away from cumming all over her slender fingers, so for that reason she doesn’t mind you’re getting louder with the sweet noises that are spewing from your lips. The crowds’ loud cheering, yelling, and talking are drowning out your yelps and moans and thankfully the two of you are at the very back of the beach. Your mate can smell your fruit scented slick, and it clouds her brain, making her want to speed up the process of your upcoming orgasm by using a new technique.

When you feel her thumb rapidly swipe across your raw bundle of nerves and her fingers rut harder against the entrance of your womb simultaneously, you could feel yourself growing breathless while your muscles begin to contract. “Ts-Tsireya, I’m gonna—”

“Make a mess on me, tanhì.” Her gentle, lustful voice traveling through your ear canal, her soft lips pressed against the flap of your ear, and her filthy movements cause your eyes to roll to the back of your head as your orgasm rips through your body. Your juices mixed with your sticky release gushes out of your cunt onto her fingers, splashing onto her wrist and other parts of her skin that aren’t covered.

Once she helps you ride out your high and your body begins to calm, Tsireya withdraws her fingers from your tight hole and places them in her mouth, wanting the taste of your sweetness on her tongue. When she pops her fingers out of her mouth, she finally feels satisfied, coaxing an orgasm out of you was fun for her, in her mind you are hands down the best entertainment she’s had tonight.

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[lixiesfreckless]

Deeper | l. m.

part one: Deep

➸ synopsis: you can't tell what's worse; the fact that you want him while you can't, or the fact that he obliges you even when he knows you don't deserve it.

➸ starring: lee minho x female reader

➸ word count: 1.7k

➸ general content: ex bf!minho, it gets worse!!!, nuclear waste would pull up to the toxic competition only to start crying when the reader arrives, angst angst angst hahahahaha literaly click off if you want a happy ending, morals are lost on these two, dirty talking, the only good thing here is that the sex was protected

➸ warnings: swearing, cheating, sexual content, degradation

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author’s note: again, cheating is never okay. in no way am I trying to glamourize it, I just like writing stories about messed up characters sometimes. that being said...was I okay two years ago I feel like I need to interview my old self cause WHAT

♫ all mine- plaza

“We can’t keep doing this to him, you know.”

His fingers don’t relent their pace into you but the pleasurable feeling vanishes all the same, the release you so desperately need coming out in unsatisfying waves of heat between your legs. It’s almost as if he waited for that second to remind you of the horrible truth of this stolen moment on purpose.

In all honesty, you deserved it.

“I know.”

You sit ashamed on the counter as you watch him wash you off his hands, ridding his fingers of any trace of the love crimes he’s helped you commit.

Commit.

Another thing you can’t seem to do.

“I mean it should be simple at this point,” Minho laments, drying his hands on a dish towel, “break up with him.”

“It’s not that easy-”

“And playing with my feelings is easier?”

You stare at him in disbelief, unsure of how one should react to this inconveniently timed confession.

“What?” He scoffs, tossing the towel back onto the counter. “Did you really think that I could be intimate with you again and not fall in love?”

Short answer? No.

Long answer? You two had both fallen back in love with each other despite you being in a semi-serious relationship with Jeongin, and to make up for Jeongin’s lack of a presence in bed, you naturally(and wrongfully) went looking for something to fill it. But in doing so, your old ex seemed to fill that void —and many other things— quite perfectly.

Most people however, call that cheating.

“I mean come on, every time I see you I get my hopes up and think that maybe, just maybe, this will be the time that you want more than something physical from me,” he rants, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. The guilt settles on your chest with the gentleness of an elephant as you watch him lock eyes with you.

“Minho…it’s not like that-”

“Then what’s it like?” He almost yells, fighting to keep his voice down. He didn’t want to fight you; you two had fought enough as lovers in the past and he didn’t want to bring that back. “Why do you continue to break my heart then?”

You're scared of confrontation, Jeongin’s a really nice guy and doesn’t deserve this, you know Minho will come back to you courtesy of his masochistic heart…

Yeah. None of those were good excuses.

He steps closer to you.

“Don’t tell me it’s because you love him too…”

“I don’t,” you respond quickly, looking up at him, “Jeongin is great but…I don’t love him.”

“What do you need me for then?” He whispers, a bitter edge to his voice as he traps you between his arms against the counter. “If he’s so great then why do you need me?”

There is an obvious answer, but you know it’s not the full truth. 

Need is such a funny word; most people use it in terms of things necessary for survival. Food. Clothing. Water. But in your case, you really think you might die if he stands this close to you for this long and it doesn’t end in you bent over this counter.

You’re absolutely horrible in the way that the need to have him inside you is jading your thoughts during a conversation like this.

Something darkens behind his irises as you stay quiet; perhaps it’s him acknowledging his insignificance in your life, or rather, the presence he has that is nowhere near where he wants it to be. 

Both his assumptions are wrong of course, but you’re too caught up in your own head to hear the tch coming from his mouth.

“I should have known.”

Everything about that phrase is slightly off. Equal parts because he’s wrong and he doesn’t know it, and because it just doesn’t sound right. His voice was laced with heartbreak— you could tell that much —but it sounded mainly arrogant, almost egotistical. Almost as if he was proud as to how much his cock had literally and morally fucked you up.

But you don’t have time to ponder the implications of his voice tones; not once he spins you around and presses a hand flat against your back, effectively bending you over the counter, pulling a surprised gasp out of you.

Well, surprised in the sense that you didn’t expect it, not during this conversation. 

And it truly is shameful how badly your body wants it, drowning out the screaming of your heart that’s telling you to stop, talk things out with him, you two do not need to get any deeper into this mess, but it’s no use, he’s already finding the drawstrings of your shorts and undoing them so he can undo you.

“This is all I am to you, right?” He practically spits as he yanks your shorts down, revealing the already soaked panties that he ruined just minutes before. You can tell that he’s angry, and it’s absolutely disgusting how your first thought is that he’s probably going to fuck you harder because of it.

Mad. He’s mad at you for cheating on someone so undeserving. For giving him so much false hope. For being so damn enticing that while he knows you don’t deserve it, he’s still going to give you what you want, because he wants it too. He’s a slave to desire all the same.

He’s mad at himself for not thinking he deserves better than this.

“Nothing more than someone to fill up your needy hole, is that it?” 

You know you should say something, something to ease his pain and remedy this situation, but you subconsciously add selfish to your list of faults as you admit that deep down, you want to see where this goes.

His belt is already undone and your panties are halfway down your thighs, which are practically trembling with anticipation as you hear the metal of the zipper pull clink against the belt buckle. Minho is panting, but you know enough about him to decipher that the labored breathing isn’t from the red haze of anger.

“You want it this bad?” He grits out, and you assume from the latex sounds that you are just seconds away from having him inside you, and you are this close to begging him to go faster. But you won’t. You still have your dignity.

Or…whatever’s left of it.

He prods at your entrance with his gloved tip and if you were a little less sane, you’d be practically crying at the mere thought of being full again.

“Then you’re gonna take it all like the needy slut you are.”

To hell with dignity.

You’re blabbering random words and phrases, all related to wanting him to just fuck you already, and despite his miffed state he grants you your wish, steadying his hands on both of your hips to prepare himself for the plunge.

The mewl that comes out of your mouth is film-worthy, the stretch of his cock against your walls proving too much to keep your mouth shut as he pulls your hips closer together, bending over you slightly as he weakens as well. A few labored pants ensue, yours coming from adjusting and his, well— coming from your adjusting.

He regains his composure and straightens, holding one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, and then he suddenly pulls you flush against his pelvis sharply, pulling a pitched yelp from your lips. And this is where he loses it, because you’re too wet and warm and tight and infuriating and it takes him all of five seconds to draw back and push in again, this time with more force.

You cry out, wishing there was something on the counter you can hold on to, but another push and pull has you resorting to spreading your palms on the granite surface. 

“Poor Jeongin,” he says, each word punctuated with a thrust, “he has no idea that his girl is bent over the counter like this.”

The pure sin of that thought has you reeling, choked moans falling out of your lips as he slams into you harder, probably because of your reaction. 

“Practically begging for me to fill her, fuck,” he adds, with almost a sinister ring to it as the skin slapping noises fill the kitchen.

Nothing about this is ideal, but your walls beg to differ, clenching embarrassingly hard around him and giving away your physical state of arousal to your dismay. He clicks his tongue. 

“Close already?” It’s an insult, you’re aware. And it feeds his ego, knowing that no one can make a mess of you this fast.

You don’t have to answer, because that would be stating the obvious, but you still sputter out “yes, p-please” as if it’s some sort of insurance for your impending release.

And when it crashes over you with the force of a tidal wave, he doesn’t stop, no; he keeps going, and your eyes sting with tears of overstimulation. He doesn’t even acknowledge your orgasm, which only makes a second one feel not so far away.

Suppose this is what he feels like when you chase your highs through means of his ministrations. 

Used.

You feel the familiar twitching of his cock inside you, but before you can think to rub your clit to get you there faster, he’s already filling the latex up with warmth, hips slowing their movements as he tries to catch his breath.

The post-orgasmic haze feels more like a heavy fog as it settles on the both of you, Minho pulling out before he softens too much and you whimper; whether it was at the loss of him or because of the cold air, you don’t know.

The silence that follows is deafening.

There’s so much to say and at the same time, you both have nothing to say to each other. You’re torn between explaining your actions and just leaving it for another time, and he can’t decide if he’ll ever be back if he walks out your door.

A mess doesn’t even begin to describe what you two are.

“I’m sorry,” you finally decide on saying as you watch him put on his jacket. He stills, almost shaking with the restraint of not pettily saying for what? at the first real words you’ve spoken what seems to be all night. Because truthfully, there were about a million different things that you could apologize for.

But it takes two to tango. Specifically in your case, the devil’s tango.

So he settles on something much less damaging, and also equally necessary, and leaves it at that.

“Yeah. I’m sorry too.”

[pennyserenade]

IT’S NEVER OVER 

pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x reader rating: mature (no explicit sex but language and content is 18+ regardless)  tags: fluff/comfort, some angst but just a little word count: 2.5k+ summary: dieter asks you to go to the opening night of his play and you do. for this he rewards you handsomely. a/n: this was the most fun i had writing in a very long time and i want to thank all of you who encouraged this in me. i love u & i hope you enjoy ex-husband dieter as much as i do <3

For most, divorce is definitive, final. It’s the last act that two people make as a couple, signing their names on a piece of paper that divides their lives the same way the marriage certificate connected them. If Dieter was any other man, it probably would’ve been that way for you, but Dieter is Dieter; he marches to the sound of his own drum. 

You aren’t obligated to him, but sometimes he asks you to do things and you say yes like you are. Your five year marriage bore no children — a willful decision on both your parts — and you never felt it was fair to do something like get a dog, because even on the best days you knew you would’ve only done it to cope with being lonely in a relationship you shouldn’t be lonely in. So there’s no reason at all that you should still keep in touch with Dieter, but you do. Five years of marriage and three years of dating before that bonded you to him. You’re used to him. Comfortable.  Maybe even achingly in love—but in a more platonic shade than before. 

On Sunday of last week, he had asked you to attend the opening of his play and you had said that you would. He told you he’d set two tickets aside for you, in case you wanted to bring someone, but you didn’t. You can see the relief in his eyes as you make your way to him. The throng of actors that occupy the backstage area make it hard to get to him, as they all seem to want him, but the moment he sees you, he parts the sea of them for you with his own self. He meets you somewhere in the middle. 

“You made it,” he says quietly, “I know you said you would but, you know….I don’t know.” He shrugs, smiling. 

You kiss his cheek. “You did great tonight, kid.”

“God, I’m glad you came.” Dieter brings your body in for a hug and you let him, taking in his scent and feeling a wave of comfortable nostalgia. His voice betrays his anxiety and you hold onto him a bit longer than you should because you know he gets. Even after his best performances, he was always plagued with self doubt and worry. That’s why you came tonight. 

‘We’re all so vain, actors. I can’t get over myself,’ he had told you once, on a night much like this one. And he was right, you came to find: Dieter really could not get over himself. But you don’t hate him for it anymore. He wears it anxiously tonight, that strain of vanity. It’s not like the bad times. You even feel the desire to hold his hand. 

He lets go of you when a woman to the right — the girl who played his girlfriend in the play — taps him on the shoulder. She is a beautiful young woman, about ten years his junior. “Who’s this?” she asks him, smiling. 

“My wife.” He responds. As soon as he says it, you get an idea of just what he’s been doing to prepare for this play of his. The woman tries not to let her face fall, but you know from experience that Dieter could make even Meryl Streep break character with his nonsense. You touch her arm and say, “I’m his ex-wife and you did a very good job tonight. I don’t make it to many plays anymore and it was a real pleasure to see this one.”

The woman relaxes visibly. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked the show. I was just coming to tell Dieter how lovely he did.”

Dieter stares at her like he doesn’t know what to do with her. This poor girl, you can sense how much she doesn’t understand him. He can’t get over himself, you want to tell her, just to assuage the fear you know too well. But then he smiles - a genuine smile - and he tells her he couldn’t have done it without her. 

And it makes you mad, and then sad, and then unsure if you know him either. You don’t meet with Dieter often because this happens at least once every time; you think you know every bit of him and then some part of him has changed, been made better, and you wonder bitterly “Why couldn’t you have done that for me?”

Tonight it passes quickly. He touches the small of your back and brings you closer to him than to the woman he’s very obviously fucking. She sees this. You see her see it and you watch as he doesn’t get it all over again. 

“I’ll see you later, then,” she manages, before disappearing back into the crowd of celebrating actors behind you. 

Dieter watches her go, brows creased. He hums. “Hm.”

You click your tongue. “You ought to be ashamed.”

His dark eyes shift towards you. “I’m positively mortified. Trust me.”

“Good. You’ll apologize to her?”

“I’m in the habit of it these days. Better than I used to be.”

“I’m glad. You can be—“

He cuts you off, “A bit of an ass. I know. I get real neurotic on opening nights. I hate them.”

“Are you going to the after party?” You straighten the tie of his costume instinctively. You don’t get embarrassed by the act once you realize what you’re doing.  Dieter doesn’t make you feel like you ought to be. 

“Thank you,” he says, “But no. I know you don’t like those things and I wanted to see you tonight. Please don’t get mad but—“

“Dieter.” You scold him preemptively. 

“—but I bought out the movie theater. That one we used to go to. I know you said doing things like that isn’t fair to you but you said that like, three years ago, and I promise I’m not trying to fuck you or anything. I mean, if you want, I’m not saying I wouldn’t but that’s not the purpose.” He pauses, then says, “Ignore that last part. I didn’t mean it that way. I wouldn’t have sex with you, but I wanted you to know that I still think you’re good looking and would if life had been different.” 

He looks at you expectantly and you feel the will in you fall away. “What if I had a date?” you ask, ignoring his ramble for his own sake. 

Dieter shrugs. “I guess I would’ve asked him if he—“ He watches your face “—or she? If they liked James Stewart.” Someone bumps into you, pushing closer, into Dieter. He grabs your shoulders to steady you. “Do they like James Stewart?” he asks. 

You shrug him off, shaking your head. “I like James Stewart.”

“I know you do. Mr. Smith Goes To Washington.”

“That makes me cry.”

“I know it does. But that one’s your favorite.”

“But you like Rope better.” 

“I like you and I wanted to do something for you.” When he says that, he looks ahead of you, at the people crowding around you. He’s avoiding eye contact, knows he shouldn’t have said it but he couldn’t help himself. You’re not angry with him. You pat his hand affectionately so he knows it. 

“Thank you. Sometimes it’s nice to know I’m liked and remembered.” 

He looks at you incredulously. “You’re kidding me.”

“Absolutely. I know you’re too fond of me and always will be. It gets me by.”

This makes him laugh. The sound of it makes you grin. “Let’s go.” Dieter tugs on your arm, nodding his head to the direction of his dressing room. “I’ll get undressed and we can head to the theater.”

You shake your head. “I’ll meet you by my car when you’re done.”

His eyebrow furrows, then he realizes. His face falls, and you know you’ve hurt him with the implication. 

“I have no interest in hurting some girl tonight, Dieter. She’s bound to be watching and I’d rather save her a little bit of heartache than turn my back to the wall while you get undressed.”

He frowns, but nods his head. “You’re too good for me, you know? I wouldn’t make you turn your head, though. You've seen it before and I’d like to think it looks mostly the same.”

“I know I’m too good for you.”

He clicks his tongue this time. “Give her an inch and she takes a mile,” he says as he disappear through the crowd. You hear the joke in voice even if you can’t see his face. 

You watch the back of him for a moment.

As you make your way to the car, you smile more genuinely than you have in a few days. Despite yourself, you love him immensely and you know he loves you too. It feels nice, even if you make a joke of it. He’s family to you. Not a husband, but a friend. 

He was always such a good friend. 

———

“Oh, kid.” 

James Stewart’s young face, wasted away with exhaustion, and his voice hoarse from desperation, never fails to make you cry. He stands in front of his piles of fan mail and is so damned earnest in the face of evil, it makes you ache. Dieter used to think that this movie was too sentimental, but you wore him down over the years. He sniffles now too when it gets to this scene, but nothing like the pitiful sobs you let out. 

He hands you a napkin and you wipe your eyes. You watch intently as Jimmy collapses onto the floor from pure exhaustion. You let out another sob the same time as Jean Arthur calls out to Jimmy. You hear Dieter’s soft laughter and you know you’re ridiculous, but you can’t help yourself. He knows this is how you get when you watch this. 

“God, this movie.” You shake your head and wipe your nose. 

You watch the rest of the movie in silence — or at least, without acknowledging your cries. When the movie ends and the soft hue of lights crowns over the empty theater, you turn to Dieter and sigh. He’s a little red in the eyes too, you note, but he looks at you in pure delight. There’s a fondness to it, though, so you let him live. 

“I can’t believe you used to think that was too sentimental.” You shake your head, huffing, getting angry at this younger Dieter. “That was so—that was acting!”

He holds his hands up in defense. “I know! I don’t think that now, you know? I think it’s good.”

You scoff, still infuriated with the Dieter that had told you this was the worst of Jimmy’s works. “You said it was American propaganda!”

He laughs. “I was trying to sound clever. I was too serious of an actor at the time. I’m sorry for having committed that crime many, many moons ago.”

You shake your head, letting the last of your tears fall. “I’m heartbroken.”

Dieter laughs. “But it worked out in the end. I can’t understand why this movie breaks your heart.”

“Because he had to fight so hard.”

Dieter softens. “That’s right,” he tells you, handing another napkin over, “I forgot about that—about why it breaks your heart.”

“It’s silly but I can’t help it.”

“It’s not silly. I married you for things like that. I loved those things. I love them now. I couldn’t remember why I liked watching this with you so much until now, but that’s exactly it. Because he fights so hard it makes you cry.” He squeezes your hand and the casualness of those words hit you straight in the gut. You’re glad to already have cried violently because if you haven’t, you’re certain that would’ve made you. 

“I’m gonna die, I’m so sad.”

“Do you want to get high? Will that help?” 

You shrug, blowing your nose. “I haven’t in a long time.”

“I brought a pen.” 

You debate it for a moment. “I shouldn’t.”

“Alright, but we’ve got this theater all night.”

“All night? I thought you just got it for this movie.”

He nods. “I did, but they don’t let you buy the whole movie theater out for just one showing. Not for me anyways, but I don’t care because I used to sneak into movies when I was younger here and this feels like a kind of karma.” That makes you laugh and he claps his hand. “The cloud is lifting. You’ll make it out alive after all.”

You lean back in the chair, wiping away the rest of your tears and most of your makeup. You sigh. “I care just like he does, don’t I?” You look at Dieter. 

“It’s so human of you, don’t change it. Please.” He takes your hand in his. “I always wanted to tell you that, that you care just like that, but I knew you’d take it wrong when we were married. We used to fight all the time for really stupid reasons. But it’s different now.”

“We’re friends.” You look down at your linked hands. 

“In a fashion, sure, but I like to think we’re more too.” You quirk your eyebrow. “Not like that—like lovers or whatever, but I don’t know. I know you get it too. You can probably explain it better than me.”

“Oh.” You smile and crinkle your nose. “We’re friends,” you repeat. This time he nods his head. “Yeah.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence. You sit with that knowledge. 

“Thank you,” he says suddenly. 

“For what?”

“For keeping me in your life. That was honorable of you. I don’t deserve it after the way I treated you during our marriage.”

You wave his words away. “Marriage brought out the very worst of us. This is the best of us. What we did to each other then, I don’t think it’s a reflection of who we are.”

“Yeah but I did the most damage. I know that. I left you alone a lot.”

The pad of your thumb rubs the back of his hand and you watch it as it does, as if you’re not in control of it. “Maybe you did. But it’s finished. We stopped that battle a long time ago and we’re in the clear now. You’re nicer, kinder.”

“I should’ve been all that then. I really loved you.”

“You really love me now. That’s enough for me.”

Dieter reflects. Then he says, “In another life, I’ll find you again and I’ll do it right.”

Giving him back his hand, you shake your head. “I think we’re doing just fine in this one. I think this is where we were meant to be. This is the kind of love that we do the best with.”

“You don’t miss it, the way we used to be?”

“God, all the time, but it was never like this.” 

“I guess you’re right. We do get along better. I don’t feel like I disappoint you anymore.”

“You don’t. Tonight is the most fun I’ve had in weeks, and I even cried my eyes out.”

He smiles softly. 

“You want to know something?” you ask him. He nods his head. “Nothing in the world makes me feel better than knowing you want me when I’ve got nothing to give you but my friendship. Men don’t want women like that.”

“I’ll always want to be your friend.”

“Then you will be,” you respond, “In the next life too. I promise.”

[rachelsfav-queer]

I’m sleepy and about to take a nap, so have some sleepy Baby Wednesday. Just with Enid this time cause I don’t write that enough lol

(All characters are 18+ engaging in sfw activity)

Wednesday suppressed another yawn as she snuggled deeper into her mama’s arms and clung tighter to Little Raven with her own arms. The movie playing on the TV went mostly ignored as the tiny seer refused to let Enid turn it off and also refused to fall asleep before it finished. Enid sighed and laughed softly at her little’s stubbornness, even after all these years it’s the one word she’d use to describe Wednesday, other than cute that is. And adorable, and precious too. But stubborn, absolutely stubborn.

Eventually, Wednesday couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, her eyelids far too heavy to keep up. Once her eyes closed, the raven didn’t stand much chance of staying awake and soon, cute little snores came from her mouth (one of Enid’s absolute favorite sounds in the world) and she was soundly asleep. Enid waited for a few more minutes to make sure Wednesday was fully asleep before she carefully stood up with the tiny seer in her arms, expertly catching Little Raven, and carried Wednesday to her room and gently laid her on the changing table in the corner of the room. The werewolf worked carefully, yet quickly to change Wednesday out of her clothes and old diaper and into a comfy set of pajamas and a fresh diaper, patting the diaper once she was done out of habit. Then it was over to Wednesday’s crib where she tucked in the little raven and Little Raven super snug and comfy.

Enid smiled as she simply watched her girlfriend sleep for a long moment. It was almost unfair how utterly adorable the shorter girl was and Enid was so happy to be allowed to see her like this, the purest definition of vulnerable. Eventually, the blonde leaned over and pressed a kiss to Wednesday’s forehead and one to Little Raven’s as well before pulling back and closing up the crib properly. Enid walked to the door and said one final thing before shutting off the light.

“Have such wonderful dreams, baby girl. I love you forever, Wednesday. Nap well, sweet girl.”

[chatterbox-73]

Simptember 2024.

Day 5 - love bites.

Zero Kiryu x fem!reader

This story is a smut story for simptember, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for simptember and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

Summary: you offer yourself to zero in hopes it keeps him away from your sister, so that both yuuki and he can be safe. Though you didn’t expect what you received from this arrangement.

Word count: 1.5k

CW: NSFW and adult content, nipple play, unprotected sex, pull out, missionary, bitting, drinking blood, slight manipulation.

You laid on the couch adjacent from the fire place in the headmaster’s living room, you had finished patrols much later than you were expected to and so now you found yourself locked out of the girls dormitory, “you can’t sleep on the couch tonight… go up to your room” you heard a voice from the door and found it to be your adopted father, “yeah I will…” you sighed and stood walking over to him, “…let me do one more sweep of the school, then I’ll go to bed” you watch the man sigh and slightly roll his eyes, “where did you learn to be so stubborn and ignorant? Yuki’s such a good girl, so what happened to you?” The man huffed, you chuckled and rested a hand on his shoulder, “yuki is too much of a good girl, she basically become a walking blood bag for Zero and it’s only a matter of time until Kuran takes her” you look at the headmaster from the corner of your eye, the man nod and focused on the fire burning away in the room, “stop Yuki from offering herself to zero…” he turned to you and swallowed thickly, before grabbing you and offering a sad expression, “even if you need to offer yourself in her place… please” he looked away from you in shame, “I hate myself for doing this, you know that?” He sigh and further leaned into the doorframe, “yeah, I know… but you don’t want to let down that woman…” you began to walk away before stopping for a moment, you looked over your shoulder at the man and met his gaze, “…are you sure she’s worth it? Or maybe you’ve allowed yourself to fall prey to a truly evil demon” you knew it was cruel but sometimes the headmaster would forget himself, actually you were sure he had begun to forget himself and no longer wished to remember.

You walked through the darkened courtyard until you reached the boy’s dormitory and to your surprise the doors were unlocked, you let yourself in and made your way to zero’s room, you didn’t bother knocking as you walked right in, the silver haired man jumped slightly and pointed his gun at you, “what do you want?” He hissed and slammed his gun on his side table, you shut the door behind you and locked it before walking over to him and sitting just in front of him on his bed, “I got locked out of my dormitory and the headmaster house is all locked up too…” you pout and move so that you were facing away from him, “but if you don’t want me here, I’m sure Kaname Kuran would be more than willing to open his bed for me…” you sigh and look back at zero with fake concern, “the only problem is, it’d break poor sweet Yuki’s heart… but you’d have your chance to comfort her and have her completely” you hummed and Zero glared at you, “what exactly are you asking me here…? Do you want a place to crash or are you trying to find a man to spend the night with?” He grumbled and raised a brow, “I’m looked for whatever I can get away with” you chuckled and began to straddle Zero, while you began to unbutton your shirt, you eyed the man for any reaction, “getting naked in front of me? This is harassment” he hummed watching your cute lacy bralette, “you’re right, I’m sorry… will you take me completely?” You asked and Zero’s hands moved to your waist as he nodded, “your skin and hair is damp, how?” He asked and grazed a thumb over the waistband of your skirt, “I’d like to think you’ve figured out why I’m here and perhaps realised I might have been lying, so that I might get what I need” you whispered and pressed your body to him, Zero clicked his tongue and rubbed his hands over your thighs, allowing them to disappear under your skirt, “so you lied so you could get off… you have a hand and fingers for that” he tilted his head and began to unzip your skirt.

“Of course I could use my hand however I’m not here for me zero” you spoke in a serious tone while you helped Zero remove your skirt, you laid back and looked up at him as he gave you a confused look, “what are you doing here, then?” He asked with a frown, “the headmaster wants me to keep you from feeding on yuki, I’m here to seduce you and so that you desire me and all I can offer” you answered honestly and Zero leans over you, he grabbed your shoulders and held you down, “what the fuck?!” He growled and got in your face, “I’m sorry but by allowing her to feed you, you’re endangering her and yourself… how could you be so foolish?” You shout and zero blinks, he leans back and lets go of your shoulders, “you’re right, it’d be better if I left…” he sighs and you sat up, wrapping your arms around his neck, “no we still need you… we still need you to protect her, to protect the school… stay and I’ll allow you to gorge yourself on me…” you whisper, Zero’s hands brushed through your hair, “if you’ll except me” you looked off to one of the four blank walls in Zero’s room.

Zero’s thumb ran across your lips before he guided you to lean your head back, his lips light pressed to your pulse, “who implied I wouldn’t want you? Because I didn’t” he said before he trailed his tongue down to your collarbone, only to give the skin a little nip and licking up the fresh droplet of blood forming on your skin, before sucking on the spot until the blood stopped flowing.

Zero’s fingers fiddled with your bra clasp for a moment before the martial fell from your frame his hands began to roughly fondle your breasts, occasionally pinching your nipples, “fuck… they’re so damn soft” he groaned and gripped one of your breasts before leaning in and bringing his tongue to rest on your nipple, zero’s teeth gently grazed your breast as he licked over the sensitive nub, a shiver ran down your spine as you felt him press himself against you as he began to suckle on your nipple, you moaned loudly not caring where you were just how good you felt.

You laid back and hummed as Zero climbed over you, your hands traced up his bare arms “your chest and arms look bigger” you hummed as you squeezed his biceps, before coming to trail you hands up until your fingers interlocked behind his neck, you pulled Zero down and pressed your lips to his, it felt hot and suffocating, but oh so satisfying. You began to feel Zero’s hands grip your panties before pulling them off and discarding them across the room, he then pulled away from the kiss, “I’m going to get started now” his lips still hovering over yours as he spoke, you nodded and felt Zero shifted as he undid his pants and pulled his member from his pants, you gasped as he rubbed his tip between your folds, making his tip catch on your entrance, “damnit… you sure about this?” He groaned and pressed his tip against your open but not quite letting it slide in yet, “yeah, I’m sure… I want this” you huff out between deep breaths and zero looks into your eyes for any hesitation but finds none, to this he pressed forward and sheaths himself.

You slowly and sensual, it’s nothing like you expect, but exactly what you needed, your legs wrapped tightly around Zero and your nails dug into his back, his hips moved in strong and slowly thrusts that were angled upward, his hand grabbing tightly onto the bedsheets as his arms rested either side of your head, zero had captured your lips and tongue in a erotic dance that was yet to end, all your moans and gasps were swallowed by him before they even had a chance to escape. You body start to feel light and your opening began to squeeze, zero pulled away from the kiss and groaned “you’re close… just wait a little longer” he pulled back and grabbed your hips before he picked up his pace slightly, you gasped struggling to hold on any longer, “release for me, finish all on me” zero hummed and you did just that, you pressed your head back against the bed and you whined as your body seized up, zero quickly snapped his hips into your a few times rather franticly before he pulled out and pumped hot squirts of release all over your chest, “god damnit… shit” he groaned loudly and watched and as his shaft rested comfortably between your breasts, he brushed a hand over your face and stood to get you a damp cloth so he could clean you off.

You laid naked curled up into zero’s side, you spent the night until the early hours of dawn talking with him, “let’s skip class” Zero hummed as he closed his eyes and kissed your cheek, “this is way they kept you down a year, but I’m too tired to care” you chuckle before you closed your eyes and began to drift off to sleep, listening to the sound of Zero’s heart beating steadily in his chest, “very funny… now go to sleep… beautiful” he grumbled and lightly kissed your lips.

Simptember Masterlist

Day 4 - Tamaki Amajiki: Comparison

Day 6 - Shigure Sohma: Taste

[honeyedboneset]

NOTICE: This post is under construction as of aug 17, 2024. it is not up to date. hello! i'm boneset (or bone). thanks for stopping by my super-specific search thread! if interested, please leave a reply or dm me!

a bit about myself: she/her. I'm currently in my late 20's and have been writing/roleplaying in some shape or form for 12+ years. i'm in grad school (and will be for awhile) and work full time in mental healthcare. occasionally, days are wild. 

when it comes to writing, i generally write somewhere between 500-1k words a post. the shorter the post, the faster i can write. i definitely value someone who's writing fits with mine over length or anything like that. i'm also super flexible when it comes to post rate. if it takes a little bit, that's totally fine! especially if we do build a rapport. i want this to stay as something that's fun for both of us. it's a hobby, so it comes after everything else.

doubling. i play a canon for you, you play one for me, and i love every character as my own. OR we both play two ocs who fall in love against their will. Idc.

m!canon x f!oc preferred (or m!oc x f!oc). I know who I am. I have no shame. I’m so super cautious about m// and f// after years of running into folks treating it as a fetish.

ooc chatting. for the rps that have survived my hiatuses, it's been because we made friends, or at least friendly. i like talking, sharing head canons, all that stupid crap. tldr: i need someone to send memes to.

ooc over discord, please, after we’ve graduated to that. DMs first if you don’t mind.

email, discord, gdocs, and tumblr in order of preference for the roleplay but I'm open to any.

i am a sap for romance. less so for super slow burns. sue me. I can barely read slow burn much less write it.

500-1000 words is my sweet spot for responses, but i'm not that fast of a writer, depending on what's going on. see: why i like ooc.

hard limits: be 18+ (21+ preferred) | will not write with people who identify as male (he/him) | incest | fetish stuff | abo | pwp | pedophilia | furries/beastiality | explicitly written sexual assault | abusive relationship dynamics between main characters | heavy substance abuse | main settings being medical | most highschool settings/underage characters | genuine love triangles or infidelity between main characters

pairings and all below the break!

for fandoms, I’m going to list what I’m looking to play the oc in. I am super duper happy to play nearly any canon character for you.

the walking dead:  ＊i haven't seen the spin-off series. super comfortable going as AU as we want. ＊looking for: glenn (pls pls pls), daryl ＊will play: rick, daryl, shane, negan, others probably ＊some vibes: people who knew each other prior to the zombies meeting each other again after, dead rising vibes, traveling through the wilderness, overgrown and rundown towns and cities, towns that have gone mad, human enemies, natural threats, fluff, megamalls, amusement parks, adventure, horror, fluff, uneasiness in the calm, found family, hesitant allies

resident evil: ＊i like it all, okay? welcome to racoon city, all the games, the animated films...even the live action netflix put out! it's just FUN. ＊looking for: leon, piers, carlos ＊will play: chris, albert, luis, piers, etc. ＊some vibes: hurt/comfort extreme, international adventures, partners in life and in work, idk absolute insanity. vacation? what's a vacation, there's always zombies, basically the evil of capitalism, embrace the weird of the game universes (i mean really. there's werewolves)

the last of us: ＊i've played both games and watched the show ＊looking for: tommy miller, m!oc ＊will play: joel, ellie, others, m!oc ＊some vibes: FIX IT JESUS, protecting family, human enemies, natural threats, antagonistic towns, lost in the wild, weird periods of domestic easiness followed by hurt/comfort hell red dead redemption: ＊i've played rdr and rdr2. kind of familiar with revolver. ＊looking for: charles smith ＊will play: arthur, john, dutch, others (but not micah) ＊some vibes: railroad turmoil, dutch has lots of plans (very little outcomes), high society meets the old west, running from the law, causing problems, adventures in the big city, trying to leave old lives behind, forbidden love, enemies to lovers

fallout: ＊i've played 1, 2, 3, 4, 76 & NV. mainly looking for nv. ＊looking for: m!oc ＊will play: ask for canons, m!oc ＊some vibes: causing chaos in the wastes, embracing the local cryptid status of the player character, toxic people everywhere, attempting to survive, mercenaries, prostitutes, salt of the earth managing to do some good against their will, traveling to other locations avatar the last airbender ＊i've seen the show several times, live action, and korra, but haven't read comics. ＊looking for: adult!sokka ＊will play: adult!zuko, ask for other canons! ＊some vibes: post series feeling out their new roles in society, rebuilding following war, uprisings from unhappy sections, earth kingdom is just as big of a mess as firenation please help, 'forbidden' relationships, political drama, festival romance

original(ish) story vibes:

zombies! please zombies. love it. media inspo: l4d, deadrising, resident evil, twd, george romero

fantasy. royalty, pirates, mermaids, adventures, curses, and extra doses of romance. some assassins? hiding from responsibility? childhood friends to lovers and enemies finding common ground. media inspo: ACOTAR, lord of the rings, ever king, damsel, fire emblem, (for modern of these vibes) new protectorate by abigail kelly

urban fantasy vibes. witches and monsters, and romance and weirdness. maybe some monsters. eldritch beings. small town, rural america? media inspo: x-files, teen wolf, supernatural, stay a spell by juliette cross, scooby doo, being human, folk haven by lauren connolly, old gods of appalachia

cowboys! Modern? Traditional? I do not care i love cowboys and the south, just minus all of those….you know, issues. media inspo: red dead redemption, man from snowy river, yellow stone, lyla sage books

[creativity-deficient]

So, in defense of Stanford Pines

As the gravity falls fan in me has awakened once again per the release of the Book of Bill, I wanted to write a quick character analysis/essay on one of my two favorite characters in the series, Stanford Pines.

Now it’s important to note that Ford is in fact, a very flawed character, and this essay is in NO means meant to downplay that. He’s absolutely an egotistical asshole who was way too in his own head and focused on the end goal to fully appreciate the people and things he has around him, which ultimately ended up playing a huge part in his downfall.

However I do want to talk a little bit more about his side of things, as this is something I feel like isn’t quite done enough justice in the series, making it easy to just see him as a jerk or take Stan’s side in the fight between them, and has always been something I’ve really appreciated about both Journal 3 and now, the book of bill, both providing a new perspective on his character and exactly WHY he turned out the way he did.

I want to start from the beginning, by delving a bit into Ford’s childhood.

It’s a common misconception in the fandom that Ford had a good relationship with his father. He was the loved child, while Stanley was the unloved child. Now there’s no denying that Stan’s relationship with his father was…considerably worse, but with how deep Ford’s own insecurities and his obsession to “be the best” lie, I find it very hard to believe that his own relationship with his father was a healthy one either.

Filbrick was considered a VERY strict man, who was not easily impressed, making it very likely that Ford was either groomed into thinking, or at least at some point convinced himself that his smarts were the only worthwhile thing about him, especially since he pretty much already felt like a freak because of his fingers.

It’s even mentioned in the book of bill that his father wouldn’t want him returning home without millions. I mean, does that SOUND like a loving father to you?

And that brings me to his falling out with Stan. Yeah, EXTREMELY dick move to let your father kick out your teenage twin brother over some dumb mistake, however, it’s always felt a bit weird to me, like there was much more going on then just “you destroyed my project I’m throwing out our entire brotherly bond we spent the last 17-18 years building fuck you” because let’s face it, huh??? Kicking your own TWIN BROTHER, who you have been best friends with all your life, to the curb for some dumb school you literally learned about DAYS ago was something that never made sense to me, and I always struggled to understand why and how it even had to come to that.

But, let’s look it at this way. To Ford, Stan was the only person he had. They were the only people each other had, the only people that truly got each other. Ford considered Stan the only person he could trust at that point in time, this only person who wouldn’t treat him differently than others. And what does that person do? Completely betray that trust and destroy his project. Yes, we know that it was an accident, but Ford didn’t. Was he wrong to automatically assume that Stan did it on purpose instead of just, you know, talking it out? Oh absolutely, but we already established that he clearly doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms, and all things considered, I don’t think Stan really helped his case when it came to proving his innocence, as both before and even after the confrontation, all he can seemingly think about is their boat. All things considered, I can’t completely blame Ford for thinking it was an act of betrayal. Does that completely justify his response? Oh absolutely not. But I DO think the situation goes a bit deeper than people assume.

Then we have his time in gravity falls. It’s hinted at a bunch throughout the series, journal 3, and the book of bill that Ford, despite his anger, truly missed his brother, and regretted his actions towards him (the swingset and stan o war in his dreamscape, holding on to that photo of him and Stan as kids all those years, not being able to think back on his childhood at glass shard beach without growing sad, etc).

“Well, why didn’t he just contact him then???”

Well, to be fair, he kind of had a lot going on, and by a lot, of course, I mean Bill.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the relationship between Ford and Bill was EXTREMELY toxic. Bill, doing what Bill does best, leeched onto Ford’s already deeply set insecurities to led him into a false sense of security, one where bill and ONLY bill truly understood him, and that everyone else was out to get him and couldn’t see his true potential, effectively isolating him from his friends, family, and even society.

Ford went through HELL in this period of time. He was left alone by bill for long periods of time until he was desperate and dependent enough to lash out. He was gaslit and manipulated into pushing the people he cared about away. When he decided he wasn’t going to do bill’s bidding, he was literally TORMENTED for it. In all fairness, I don’t really think he was in the right mindset for ANYTHING during that time, losing himself in BOTH his own stubbornness and this endless cycle of abuse.

Despite this though, despite ALL of this, all the manipulation, their falling out, etc, Stan was still the first and ONLY person Ford thought of to take the Journals, the only person he considered to be trustworthy. Yes it was petty of him to bring up the project yet AGAIN (let it go my dude), but I do think it is important to acknowledge that he still thought of Stan pretty highly at the time, or else that wouldn’t have been the case.

“Oh but Alex he told Stan to get away from him yadayada!!!” Uh, no he didn’t. He just told him to hide the journals, not that he couldn’t come back afterwards, that was just Stan assuming the worst.

On that note, I do think it’s important to also acknowledge that while Stan is definitely, in the eyes of a lot of people as well as myself, the more sympathetic of the two, he’s definitely made his fair share of mistakes as well. I don’t think there’s really truly a right or a wrong in this argument, I think instead both of them are two very complex characters who had both been through a lot at that point, and both have made their mistakes (even if Stan’s were a bit more justified in most cases)

Then of course, he gets pushed through the portal, and spends the next 30 years between dimensions.

Now for anyone who hasn’t read journal 3 (spoilers ig? The book is pretty old atp but I figured I’d give one anyways) Ford is basically told by an oracle that he “has the face of someone who is destined to defeat bill” (a lot of people call him egotistical for assuming the oracle was talking about him and not his brother, but I digress. If an oracle looked YOU deep into your eyes and told you you had the face of someone destined to save the universe, be honest, would YOU think they were talking about your sibling??) Ford then proceeds to spend the next 30 years building a weapon to effectively defeat bill, and just as he’s about to finally use it, he’s sucked (not literally) back into gravity falls, not ONLY effectively erasing all of his hard work and progress, but risking weirdmaggedon in the first place. On TOP of it all, he also learns that Stan has been using his name all these years, and that he now has a pretty extensive criminal record.

Yes, Stan did it all in his best interest, and Ford could’ve absolutely shown more appreciation, but all things considered, I’d be pretty pissed off too.

But, all things considered, at the end of it all Ford still has those he hold close to his heart. He missed Stan all those years, considered Fiddleford a true friend and was super appreciative to have him there while they worked on the project together, he’s joyous to find out he has a niece and nephew, etc, and when he realizes he’s hurt these people, namely his brother and former lab partner, he feels immense guilt, and does everything he can to atone to it.

I truly think Stanford’s character development is one of the best in the series, as he finally learns to appreciate what he has instead of trying to chase down an unachievable end goal, and it’s definitely something that I feel goes unnoticed in the grand scheme of things when it comes to his character.

Now, what was the point of this 1 am ramble?? The point was the highlight the wonderful complexity of Stanford Pines’s character. Yes he was an extremely flawed man. Someone who pushed away those he loved him pursuit of greater things, and let his own pride be the fall of him. However, at the same time, he’s also a man who bears a lot of scars, both metaphorical and literal, and an extremely complex character who deserves a lot more than to be characterized as this “cold, uncaring asshole” something I’ve seen WAY too much of. I feel like it’s important to acknowledge that he’s made mistakes while also recognizing the complexity of a lot of it too, as well as acknowledging that he did indeed, learn from those mistakes.

[alwaysaqueene]

Destined Queen

Indie RP Blog for Original Character’ Medieval, Regency, and High Fantasy Verses — Sideblog to @joyfulmagic & special verses for Relta & Aislin of @fantasiesandfolklore, guest test muse Prince Alastair as well

Written by 𝕷𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖊 [Lettie] || Mun is 25+ || Blog is 18+ (Preferably 21+)

Minors (under 18) and Personal Blogs DO NOT INTERACT

[Relta’s “Regular” Bio]

[Verse Info Tag] [Guest Staring Lord Alastair, Half-Brother to Relta] & Aislin’s Medieval Verses from @fantasiesandfolklore FCs Used: Charlotte Hope (18-32); Rebecca Ferguson (30+); Ruairi O’Connor (18-35); Anya Taylor Joy (18+); & Natalie Dormer (30+)

Rules are below the readmore on this post

Heavily Affiliated With: @ofheroesandscholars, @singeart, @blackarrcw, @luposcainus, @aislingarrow and @tsarincvdova

𝒜 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝓎 𝒾𝓃…being the bad guy, raising Hell and high water, religion, paganism, royalty, destiny, fighting fate, the girl with ice in her veins and a heart of gold, blood spilled for justice, living out of spite, heroics, being the final girl, the stench of the battlefield after a war, and taking one’s rightful place on the throne.

𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘

NO minors (under 18 years old / still in high school) or personal blogs please! I’d prefer to write only with muns ABOVE age 21, as I am currently 27 (6/2024) years old.

Open to non-mutuals, but still semi-selective toward the selective side

Preferential treatment given to those I’ve built an OOC relationship with / am heavily affiliated with. Just being honest.

No god modding with the exception of starters, as I know you kind of have to a bit to write a decent starter

Multi-para / novella length replies usually. Please attempt to meet my length or at least my effort. Sometimes replies are short to move things along, I get that.

No auto-shipping, as Relta does not want to fall in love or have a co-monarch as a default in the phoenix queen/queen of ashes verses

IF we do ship, know I’ll be simping for them and wish to talk about them OOC a fair amount. Also, expect playlists for solidified ships haha.

My main triggers are animal death, parent death, cancer, infertility, and Dementia/Alzheimer's. Memory issues due to other reasons are fine. PLEASE let me know your triggers so I can avoid them as well.

Dark topics will be present, and the presence of NSF/W isn’t impossible. I will tag NS/FW as “lemons” or “mild lemons” depending on the severity (like PG-13 versus R rated).

Relta is queer, as is the mun. Please be respectful of that.

The mun is neurodivergent and disabled, so please be patient with me. I may miss stuff like social cues at times.

My discord is open to mutuals, but it’s an easy one to guess based on my main blog hub title lol

I have studied history and international politics in college, and plan to focus on medieval times in graduate school when I attend. Relta’s verses on this blog are heavily influenced by actual history and historical figures, so please know I HAVE done my research or asked my Tudor historian friend lol I might twist it and throw in a ton of various influences, but it’s still historically inspired.

I saw BBC’s Robin Hood…18 years ago now…when it first came out and I was a kid, so I’m a bit rusty on it since I can’t find a free way to rewatch it. Thus, I’ll be leaning into headcanons a bit and actual history about King Richard, the Crusades, and Robin Hood lore for the V: Lionhearted verse. I’d be happy to discuss the show AND history/lore with anyone interested in this verse.

I often post worldbuilding and headcanon stuff about Relta in these verses, so don’t be surprised if they outnumber IC posts for a while.

Relta has been an OC of mine since I played make believe with my friends in elementary school, and simply has evolved to who she is now through a passion for creative writing and a gaining of knowledge on character building. She’s still a bit Mary Sue-ish at times, but I work hard to incorporate her flaws and weaknesses as much as I do her strengths and positive traits. She’s not perfect, as no one is.

I am mobile always, so I cannot cut posts unfortunately.

[icanbeyourjedi-writes]

It Was Just A Dream Chapter Three

Summary: Going back to work was easy, hearing that Alex has a date is not.  Frankie spirals at the news, and what happens next could change the friendship.  Words: 7,591 Rating: 18+ Adult Themes Warnings/Triggers:  Addiction, Falling for Your Brothers Friend, Language, OFC is somewhat described as someone with longer hair, but no race/eye color/body type   A/N: I don’t know much about addiction, just the things that I googled and seen portrayed on TV. This is completely an AU. I had the beginning of this story pop in my head randomly and thought it sounded fun to explore. Sure we all love Frankie was that sweet puppy dog…but what if he had his own inner demons he had to battle with.  The ‘coke charge’ was mentioned in TF and I kinda wanted to explore that side of him. 

Thank you to @theewokingdead for the beta

**This is written as a  first person, and it's my first time writing in first person, so please be gentle with me. I also include Frankie's POV which will be Bold

Frankie Morales, 25, a talented pilot, Army Vet and now sticker enthusiast. I don’t think I have ever spent so much time in the sticker aisle. We’ve been here for at least an hour and I am sure the pile of stickers in the basket are already at fifty bucks.  But I can’t help it, he’s excited, he’s smiling and I see the old Frankie. The Frankie before he got hurt. 

“Lex…Lexi they have vampire teeth!” he races over to me dropping the stickers into the cart joining the helicopters, military helicopters, cats, cat paws and of course who could forget catfish. And because that wasn’t enough he added tropical fish to the pile as well. 

“I‘ve created a monster” I sigh to myself. I start to think this crazy thrown together idea might actually work. I’ve never been in his shoes. I don’t know what he deals with, what he has dealt with. But I do know a reward system works. It works for the kids who come into the doctor's office. Get the shot, get a sticker or a sucker depending on the doctor. 

Frankie walks back towards me with one more package of stickers, fire trucks. I look at him and he just shrugs, the other stickers made sense. They all fit him; cat, fish, helicopters, “what?” He shrugs “when I was a kid, I thought about being a firefighter”

“You’ve always wanted to help people?” I ask 

He pulls the brim of his worn out baseball cap and drapes his arm over my shoulder, a small nod. Over the years I have been able to learn his mannerisms and his ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ look. This was that look. Hat pulled down, eyes on his feet, biting his bottom lip. 

“Think we have enough?” I ask quickly changing the subject

“Maybe” his voice still soft 

15 packages of stickers and $50 dollars later, I hope this plan works. I know he is going to have to eventually go to classes, especially when that voice gets loud. But it’s day four and I still have some hope. We stop for some takeout. Pizza, it was quick, easy and who doesn’t love a good slice of pizza. 

I lean back on the couch, Frankie finishing his slice and pushes his plate away. He picked the movie tonight…his choice of movie completely shocked me. The final scenes of ‘Bridesmaids’  starts to play, as the two characters start to sing “Hold On”. Frankie leaning against the arm rest. His hand tapping against his leg as he hums along. I can’t help the smile on my face as I watch him. He slowly starts to sing the words. Quiet at first until that first chorus hits.  

“…things will go your way, if you hold one for one more day…” he sings along, eyes closed fully in the moment. 

I will be fully honest with you. When I told Frankie he could pick the movie tonight. I was expecting Top Gun, Saving Private Ryan, maybe even Green Mile. I never would have guessed that he liked the RomCom genre. I turn to face him, he has my attention as he continues to sing. It’s only when I giggle that he opens his eyes and looks at me. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” I smile. It was cute, he was relaxed, he for another brief moment was the old Frankie. I want to keep him like this “uhm so you know I start work tomorrow” 

“I know” he sighs. He sounded disappointed 

“Can I have your phone?” I ask 

Without hesitation he reaches into his pocket and hands it over to me. I touch the screen and it lights up with what else but a helicopter as his photo. I touch the screen again and enter in the passcode “it’s your birthday” I hear him say. 

“I know” I look up and smile at him. 

I asked him once, why it was my birthday. Instead of his girlfriends, or his…or literally any other four digits he could have picked. I don’t want to forget your day, he said. He rubs the back of his neck, a tell that he doesn’t know what to say next. 

She’s right, it’s been her birthday since the day I met her. She was one of the few who listened when I talked. Cared how I was feeling, she was the only one to send me care packages and letters when I was away. My own girlfriend never sent me a care package. 

I watch, she has her tongue peeking out of her slightly parted lips. She was concentrating, she looked beautiful, but she always did. I don’t know why I handed my phone over so willingly. But the truth is, I would do anything she asked me to. I’d take a bullet for her with no hesitation. 

“Ah-ha, there it is” she says and I can’t keep his eyes off her. 

“What are you doing?” I finally asks

I watch as her finger slides up the screen, “deleting your friend George” she responds matter of factly. “Frankie, I trust you. I do. But you're going to be alone. I just…I don’t want you to feel like you need to contact him” 

She was right, smart even. It had been a few weeks since I had talked to ‘George’. But I didn’t think she knew how easy it would be for me to get something if I needed it. George wasn’t his only source. I didn’t want to use, I wanted to be better. But the struggle of staying clean was getting harder as the drugs left my system every day. 

“And I’m adding my work number incase you can’t get me on my cell” she clicks the button on the side of the phone and hands it back over. “I also think…it might be good to find a class or two to go to while I’m at work” 

“You don’t want me to be alone” I groan. The mere thought of having to go around in a  ‘share your feeling’ circle had me panicking. I watch as Steve’s name flashes across the screen asking if he has been ok. It’s been well over a month since I had texted him for a supply. And no, despite my best efforts he wasn’t ok 

“You know you could always call Nicole” I don’t know why I said that, I really don’t want him to call her, “she’s a nurse at a rehab facility. She would know what to do” she would and that’s what I hate the most. She would know how to help him in more ways than one 

“Lex, you know you can have meaningless sex with someone. You don’t have to like the person…” 

I pretend to be shocked by his statement. My number was a lot smaller than Frankie’s. Ok he probably had double maybe triple the partners than me. I know you don’t have to be in love with the person, I know you don’t even need to know their name. But call me old school, I like to have it mean something. 

“Yeah, I know that, but thanks for reminding me” the words sound a lot harsher than I intended. “Look, I’m just saying you're going to be on your own, and I’m proud of how far you’ve come. But I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t want to worry.” 

I remember the day I found him slouched at the picnic table. If I would have been a few more minutes we might not be sitting here right now. I really don’t want to think what would happen if I don’t get to him in time and he OD’s while I'm at work. 

I keep checking my phone to see the time. My body is at work, and I am going through the motions, checking patients in. Answering phones. But my mind, my mind is at home with Frankie. I wonder what he is doing.  Has he had lunch, did he take a shower, did he change? Did he do a line of coke, did he call Nicole? 

I reach for my phone when the bell on the door chimes. My head still down when Laura elbows me in the rubs and I look up seeing a drop dead gorgeous man walk in the door. Short brown hair, styled in that way where it looks he ran his hands through it after a shower and called it good.  It looked so soft. Sun-kissed skin, a Romanesque nose.  Wearing a suit that fits his shoulders and muscles just right. He had a profile that romance novel authors write about.

“That’s the new sales rep I mentioned” Laura whispers as he walks closer to our receptionist desk

“Good afternoon ladies” he says with a smile that you just know gets him exactly what he wants every time. His voice is like butter, and damn can someone be attracted to a voice?

I smile at him, glancing at Laura who looks like she is about to pass out 

“Hi” she says, batting her eyelashes at him, “what did you bring us today?” 

“Just some new test gowns for patients. They are easier to tie when alone” he smiled again and I swear there is a twinkle in his eye 

“Oh hi, I’m Dave. I don’t think we’ve met before” he looks at me and I am pretty sure my heart stops with the way he’s looking at me 

“Al…Al” why can’t I remember my name 

“Alex” Laura coughs

“Hi…hello, yeah I’m Alex. Alexandra” I return his smile and shake his outstretched hand. My heart beats faster as our hands touch and my face feels hot 

His hands are soft, gentle but strong. I don’t know why but I don’t want to let go of his hand. After what I am sure is an extremely awkward amount of time he is pulling his hand away. I could be imagining it, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “It was really nice meeting you Alexandra. You ladies have a good afternoon and I’ll see you next week” 

I don’t say anything, I just sit there and nod like. Weirdo while Laura waves bye to Dave as he heads out the door. 

“Who the fuck was that?” I ask once my brain starts to function again 

“Dave’s our new sales rep and we’re in love” she smiles “he just doesn’t know that yet” she twirls her long blonde hair around her finger. 

Laying on the couch, my hands under my head.  I’m counting the little black specks I find on the ceiling. 

3,452

Did the day always go by this slow?  It feels like it’s been 12 hours…I look at the clock. It’s been three. It wasn’t even time for lunch yet. I was beyond bored, if I was in rehab I would be looking for excuses to not go to the round table therapy. Finding new ways to avoid talking, waiting for Nicole to co-I closes my eyes. 

After a few moments I sit up and make my way to his room, still sitting on his desk untouched was the stack of pamphlets that cop gave me. I pick one up and start to look at it. ‘Let us guide you’. I roll his eyes seeing a picture of a business type man, standing with his hands in his pockets in the front of a podium. 

“Nope” I pop the ‘p’ not even bothering to open it and drop it in the trash

The next one, a few men and women in military fatigues. In big bold letters, ‘FIND YOUR HIGHER POWER’ a class for veterans run by veterans. I rub his face, the VA rehab didn’t work and this for sure wasn’t gonna help. “No, thank you” I toss it in the trash with the other one. 

It felt like an hour had passed, I knew she should be home soon.  I looks at the clock on the night stand, it was 20 minutes.  There was a small part of me that wanted a hit.  She’s at work, she’ll never know.  My hands twitch, I pick up his phone, my fingers hovering over Steve’s name…

I know I shouldn’t, I’ve been trying to stay clean.  I wants to stay clean, but every fiber in my being wants a little fun.  A notification appears, a new text message and my heart stops for a brief moment.

I was ready for the day to be over, I wanted to go home.  I wanted to check on Frankie, make sure he was doing ok.  But, I still had hours to go, calling him every hour felt like I was babying him and I didn’t want that, but I was also worried that being alone the temptation was going to be too much.  I deleted George, but I knew he had others, I knew if he wanted it bad enough he’d find a way. 

     Me: Hey, How’s it going?

     Fishie 🐟: Have hours always ticked by this slowly?

     Me: Valid question, I don’t know.  But it feels like I have been here for a week, and I still have two hours left. 

     Fishie 🐟: It feels like you have been gone for a year.                          I need paint.

Crap, why in the hell does he need paint? What did he do?

     Me: Why? Franklin, what did you do?

     Fishie 🐟: I fixed the hole in the wall

     Me: Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.  

     Fishie 🐟: Well I am the reason there was a hole, I needed to fix it

I can’t help but smile, my heart melts a little at his words.  I remember that night, it was the first time I think I was scared of him, what he could do.  The anger in his eyes, the way his nostrils flared.  He’s never hurt me, he’s never laid a hand on me, except for our awkward hugs.  But I have never seen that look, the look of rage, horror and pain.  I can honestly save it’s a look I hope to never see again.  I responded telling him I will stop on my way home and I would grab some dinner for us. 

With paint in one hand, and a bag of food in the other I walk in the door, shouting a little ‘honey, I’m home’ kicking the door closed behind me and making my way to the kitchen to set the bag of food.  He didn’t respond.  I don’t know what I was expecting, Frankie running out and wrapping me in a hug.  Frankie squealing with excitement, I don’t know.  Really I was expecting anything to let me know that he heard me. I set the food on the table and go in search of Frankie.  

His bedroom light is on, I move closer but I don’t hear anything.  I turn to the open door and find him lying on the bed.  Not sure if he is asleep, I tap on the door gently before I step in.  I know it's my house and all, but he still deserves respect for his privacy and me not just walking into his room.  I thought I was being quiet but his head instantly lifts up to see me walking into his room before lying down again. 

“Do you know how many little black specks there are in this room?” he asks his voice flat

“What?” I look up to the ceiling, honestly I didn’t even know there was black speck in the paint.  I never changed the ceiling paint color when I moved in.  It was white and I just kinda left it

“There are 2,873…” he says sitting up, “and there are 3,452 in the living room” 

“Hmmm” I comment still looking up, what do you know if you look close enough there are little black specks

“There are 643 in the bathroom” he moves closer, wrapping my entire body into a bear hug, “I was really fucking bored without you” 

I don’t know if I should smile or be seriously concerned about this. I wrap my free arm around his waist returning his hug.  He took a shower today, and he smells amazing.  He smells like Christmas.  Cinnamon, fennel and pine.  There’s also something so uniquely Frankie that I can’t put my exact finger on it.  He has clean clothes too I notice, and while the counting of the little black specks has me worried.  I am proud of him for taking small steps without me telling him to shower.

“I got a surprise for you” I grin and pull back from the hug

“More stickers?”

“Why don’t you go to the kitchen and find out” 

I watch as he all but runs to the kitchen, I stay by his bedroom and he cheers when he sees the bag of Thai food on the table. ‘THANK YOU’ I hear him yell.  The feelings I get are indescribable, it feels like he has been living here with me for years. As each day passes I think I am falling in love with him.  I can’t fall in love with him, my brothers will kill me if I did. 

“I found a NA meeting place…class?” he says putting more food on his plate

“That’s great” 

“It’s a few nights a week.  The paper said I can go once a week or to all of them” 

Maybe having something planned in my schedule would make the day go faster.  Knowing I had something to do might help my mind not think about it.  I was so close to texting Steve for a few rocks.  Just a few…enough to get by until Benny was home again.  Hell I was close to texting Nicole just to have something, or someone to do.  I’ve been living with Alex for a little over a month, and while things were good I wanted to go home.  Benny would give him my space, I could get fucked up and Benny would never notice.  That, and I was falling for Alex. I can’t fall for her, she was off limits.

“I think that’s great” she smiles at him.  She’s proud of me, the smile on her face says it all, “maybe you can find ways to help fight the urge.  Find out how I can help you” I nod “cuz I have no fucking clue what I am doing”

The next day wasn’t any better.

Lunch had rolled around and Laura had left me alone at the desk. It was a slow day, so the workload was pretty easy. I finish up a phone call when the little bell on the door chimes letting me know someone had walked in.  I love up and see Dave walking towards me, damn was he hot. I smile at him and put the phone down.

I notice he doesn’t have anything in his hands this time, like he did yesterday.  Maybe Laura and him were really a thing. 

“Hey Dave, Laura is at lunch if you wanna come back” 

“I actually came to see you” his lips curve up, and there was that damn gleam in his eyes again

“Oh?” Was the best response I could think of at the time

“So, I know we just met and this sounds kinda crazy but…” he starts

“Here’s your number so call you maybe” the fuck was that Alex I think

He laughs, ok maybe that response wasn’t as bad as I thought.  Why did I become so socially awkward when a handsome man was standing in front of me and I think he was flirting. 

“Something like that, I was wondering if you might like to join me for dinner on Friday?” he asks 

Wait, is he serious? Did he just ask me out?  Is this really happening?  I think my brain stopped working for a few moments, then I heard his voice again “Alex?”

“YES” I say a little to loudly, he chuckles “yes, Dave that would be great”

We exchanged numbers, he said he’d pick me up on Friday around 8 for dinner. 

I stood by the front door, adjusting my hair one last time before Dave was to arrive.  Frankie watched me like a hawk from the couch. Ever since I told him about my date, he had been weird.  Not wanting me to leave his side when we were home. I didn’t know what was going on, he was being clingy and we weren’t even dating. 

“Where are you going?” He asks

“I have a date, I told you” I sigh 

“And your wearing that?” 

She was in a little black dress.  The hem stopped mid thigh, it hugged every single one of her curves perfectly.  The deep v-neck not leaving much to the imagination.  The small strings holding it together in a complicated, twisting pattern down her back.  There was no way I was going to let her be going out of the house like this.  I didn’t know Dave, but I didn’t need to know exactly where his thoughts were going to be seeing her dressed like this. Her hair was effortlessly curly tonight, flowing like a wave down her shoulders.  She looked like an angel in every sense of the word. Her makeup was simple, enhancing her beauty and I was jealous of this guy getting to take her out. 

“Yes, is there a problem?” She slips into her black stilettos that only enhanced her long toned legs

“Yeah, there is” I was angry that she was going out with this man who was probably better than me in every way. “You look like a…a…” I stutter

“A what Francisco?” She hears a car pulling into her driveway and she grabs her dark green leather jacket

“Fuck, you just..ugh…you like Iike your asking for it” I finally says and the doorbell rings

‘Shit, did I really just say that?’  I wanted to be Dave, he wanted to be the one taking her out for dinner.  I wanted to be the one she was wearing a dress like that for. My heart has belonged to her, but I am to much of a dumbass to do anything about it

“Fuck you, I’ll be back later” her words laced with anger as she opens the door.  “Hey Dave, lets go” her voice suddenly cheerful as she slams the door closed behind her. 

Strike two…at this rate I might as well pack up my shit and leave before she gets back. She is the one working, she is the one providing for me while I sit in my room feeling sorry for myself counting stupid little black specks of paint on the ceiling. I went to one class and hated it.  I reach for my phone on the coffee table

“Hello?” The voice on the other end answers

“Hey, wanna get fucked up tonight?” I ask

“Never thought you asked.  I got some good stuff, meet at Hangers?” 

“Yes please. Let’s do this, I need to forget” 

Talking with Dave was easy. The conversation flowed and there was never an awkward moment.  Dave told me about his time working for the FBI, crime scene detective but things weren’t working the way he wanted to, he felt trapped and wanted something else.

“So now you try to convince people to buy overpriced medical supplies?” I grin  

“I can be very convincing when I want to be” he smiles, “I convinced you to go out with me” 

“Fair” 

I should be enjoying my time with this handsome man sitting in front of me, I shouldn’t be thinking about Frankie.  But that is exactly what is happening. We’ve had a rough few days, ever since I told him about my date that afternoon and I hate that we got into an argument before I left. Dave had asked if I wanted to go for a short walk around the lake and with my mind only half functioning I agreed to it.  His fingers slowly intertwine with mine. 

We stop in front of a little fountain with a small stringed band. A violin, a cello, and a harp play lovely music.  Dave spins me and places a hand on my waist as we sway to the music. I placed a hand on his shoulder, there was a part of me that thinks he had this entire thing planned. It was too perfect, then there’s the hopeless romantic in me that is loving every minute of it.  We continue to dance as more couples join us. 

“I use to be in a band” his lips brush over my ear sending a shiver down my spin

He pulls back smiling at me, my fingertips gently playing with the short hair at the nape of my neck.  He leans in closer to me and I close my eyes waiting for our lips to touch when I hear the undeniable ringtone ‘Highway to the danger zone…’ begins to play from my back pocket.  Trying to ignore the call, I pull Dave’s face closer when the song begins to play again.

“Shit, I’m sorry” I shake my head and back away from him.  I don’t even look at the name on the caller ID to know it’s him. “What do you want now?” I answer a little annoyed

“Ms. Miller?” 

“Very funny Franklin” I don’t hear a laugh from the other end “Frankie?” 

“Is this Alex” the voice says again, it’s hard to hear over the music and crowd hum in the background 

“Yes it is, is everything ok?” sudden panic washing over me

“Hi, I’m Clint, down at Handlebars, and your friend here is very intoxicated and might be on some kind of drug. But he is trying to start fights with other patrons. I do what I can to not call the cops, but ma’am he is getting out of hand, and I need you to come get him” the voice becomes clearer

“Fuck,” I pinch the bridge of my nose, “I’m not close its going to be a little bit before I can get there” 

“We have him sitting outside at the moment, but if he tries to punch someone again, I will have to have the police involved” 

“Can I talk to him for a minute?” I ask 

Why was he doing this?

A couple lines of coke, two beers and a half dozen of tequila shots later I was feeling pretty damn good. I was currently in the bathroom, with some blonde chick's lips on my dick. I knew I wasn’t going to last long after all the shit I’ve  taken but damn did it feel good. 

“Shit…” I mutter, gathering her hair in a fist behind her head, bracing myself against the sink with the other. One more deep throat by her and I was a goner.  My cock still pulsing as she lets me go. Standing up, she wipes her face before leaning in giving me a sloppy kiss. 

“That was fun…” she pats my cheek, “…find me again some time” she flips her hair back unlocking the door she steps out leaving me alone. Pants still around his ankles, heart racing as I try to catch my breath. 

I reach over and locks the door, grabbing a paper towel I turn on the water and clean myself up.  I look at myself in the mirror, my eyes red with dark circles below them. I look like I had aged 15 years from just this morning. I should be feeling great, I finally had cocaine back in my system, I was buzzed, and I just got a free blow job from Kitty? Maybe that was her name. Frankly I didn’t care, I also forgot the minute her lips touched mine. The only thing I could think about was how disappointed Alex was going to be in me. I should go home. 

I step out of the bathroom and make the trek back to the bar next to Steve. Walking past the set of pool tables I stumble into a big burly biker. Leather vests, tattooed arms, a bandanna wrapped around his head with a long salt and pepper beard. 

“Watch where your walking” the man grunts 

“Make me fucker” I slur 

The large man shoves me from behind making me stumble into a table full of empty glasses. I turn around, bringing my fist back. I go to punch the man who shoved me. My hand moved slowly then my brain was working and the large biker threw his own punch hitting me on the check. A gash opens along my cheek and blood begins to flow. A bouncer steps in pulling us apart. He drags me outside, and sets me on a bench around the corner of the building. 

Steve is nowhere to be found and now a young punk looking kid is yelling at me for disturbing the peace inside his bar. Demanding me to give him my phone before threatening to get the police involved. Begrudgingly I unlock the phone and hand it over. 

“Ms. Miller” I hear him say 

Shit…strike three. 

The man handed me my phone back, I shoved it in his pocket. And with that he was gone leaving me alone with the bouncer. I lean back, head hitting the brick wall behind me. The high I was feeling moments ago, now fading realizing that there is a 95% chance that Alex was not going to forgive me. 

“Thanks, I am so sorry” I unbuckle my seatbelt

“Are you going to be ok?” Dave asks placing a hand on top of my thigh

I take a deep sigh, honestly I didn’t know. I was having fun, it was turning out to be a good night, then Frankie called. I was angry, I was frustrated, I was upset. But I don’t want to drag Dave down with me. I turn my head to face him, giving him a quick kiss to his check. 

“Yeah, I’ll be good. Thank you again” I say opening the door 

“Call me when you get home” I nod and close the door. 

I walked into the bar, stopped by a burly man who I guessed was a bouncer. “Can I help you?” He asks 

“Yeah I’m looking for uhm Cliff? Clint maybe…the owner he has my friend” I couldn’t remember the name of the man now that I was here. Hurt, anger, disappointment so many emotions and I was going to have to keep them in check when I got to Frankie. Clearly being the ‘friend’ wasn’t working and I was going to need a different approach. 

“Are you Mrs. Miller?” The bouncer asks 

“Ms. but yes” 

“Outside, to the right. Let him know he’s now allowed back. Gary doesn’t want to press charges but your friend is trespassed from here” 

‘Press charges? He’s trespassed? Fuck what did he do?’ My thoughts are racing, did I really want to know. He had been in a mood since I told him about my date, and yet here I am recusing him yet again. 

I walk back outside and look to the right, not seeing right away. I walk down to the edge of the building and turn the corner, finding him sitting on a beat up wooden bench with a large man acting like a bodyguard. He was the size of a tree, his arms were massive and I’m fairly sure he could squish someone like a bug if he wanted to. 

Frankie in his usual tan colored Carhartt jacket, his favorite black baseball cap pulled down low. He turns my direction when he hears my heels on the pebbles. He has a long gash on his left cheek, dried blood under it. He continues to sit there, more anger floods my veins. 

“There she is, there’s my girl” 

I stop in front of him, my arms crossed over my body. This is where the relationship changes, I will no longer be sweet, it’s time to lay down the law and get his ass clean. 

“Get up” my voice is stern

He doesn’t move, he continues to sit there. A small smile pulling on his lips, acting as if he isn’t a complete fucking disaster. He raises his arms and makes grabby hands, beckoning me to come help him. I shake my head no. 

“Get the fuck up Morales” I cross my arms, he needs to know I’m upset and his little act isn’t going to help me. I swear I hear the tree of man chuckle at the situation playing out in front of him. 

“Help Me” he turns his head looking at me with this sad puppy eyes, this eyes he knows I can’t say no to

“No. You got into this, now get up” I am trying to not break, but he knows what to do to get me to break 

Groaning, he places his hands on the edge of the bench and pushes himself up. He sways where he is standing. He looks at his feet, his mind willing his feet to move. Putting his left food in front of the right and he stumbles. Before thinking I move to him. My heels make us the same height and easier for him to lean against me. Wrapping his arm over my shoulder I wrap mine around his waist. Adjust his hold on me he leans his head against mine, “I knew you’d catch me” he slurs 

“You’re on thin ice Francisco, don’t push it” I groan as he leans all his weight into me

“Mi Cielito” he says softly

“Where’d you park?” I ask, my hand readjusting around his hip as he holds me like a cutch and we stumble in the parking lot 

He shrugs, “don’t remember” his face is towards me, I scrunch my face as he reeks of alcohol 

After what feels like an hour of wandering around this parking lot, his truck finally comes into view, of course Frankie would be back in the back, in the middle of nowhere. Sighing a ‘thank god’, I hope he didn’t hear.  I stop by the passenger door, and I lean him against it, praying that he doesn’t fall.  Reaching into his coat pocket I pull out the keys and unlock the door. I grab him by the waist and turn his body into the truck. 

“You could at least by me dinner first” he chuckles adjusting his body in the car

“Shut up Francisco, you still have the first aid kit in here?” I ask looking under the front seat before moving to the back

Before Frankie can answer I pull out a little red box, his head leaning against the headrest. I watch as he struggles to keep his eyes open. With the first aid open, I rip open the wet-nap. I take his chin and gently turn his head towards me so I can see what I am doing better. The street lamp offers minimal light. I clean the dried blood on his cheek, and expect the gash. Tossing that at Frankie’s feet, I grab a towel from the kit and as carefully as I can dap the area dry. He flinches in pain. Finally I open the antibiotic cream, and rub a line of it over the cut hoping to keep it clean for the moment.

“It doesn’t look like you need stitches” I tell him, “what the fuck happened?”

“I got punched” he mumbles “asshole”

“Yeah, I can see you got punched, what did you do?” I ask again

“He shoved me, then I tried to punch him and he hit first” he rolls his eyes “are you mad?” 

Honestly, I didn’t know anymore. I was angry at him. I thought we were doing well, but that just proved to me this little sticker thing was a dumb idea from the start. I was sad, I was hurt, disappointed, but with all these feelings, the word mad didn’t come up anymore. I was worried about him. 

“I don’t know…” I turn his body forward, reaching behind him I grab the seat belt and lean over his body to hook it in. “I really don’t know anymore” I sigh and close the door 

The drive home was silent, he had his head against the window and I couldn’t tell if he was asleep, or just trying to ignore me. He tried to tell me how unsafe driving barefoot was, but driving with those heels and this truck was more dangerous than whatever gross shit was on his floor.  

“How much did you drink?” I ask

“A couple beers, half dozen shots of tequila…” he pauses, “also…did a few hits of coke” 

“Frankie…” I sigh

Before I can ask him, he begins to tell me he didn’t mean to. He wanted to forget, he wanted to numb the pain. He didn’t know what else to do, so he called a friend. They did a few lines, then went into the bar. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel guilty. I feel like his slip is my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone on a date. Work was one thing, but me going on a date made me feel worse. I wasn’t there when he needed me.  

“Are you mad?” I ask again, but he doesn’t look at her, he can’t handle it. 

I wasn’t worried about her being mad.  No, mad I could handle that. However, the answer she gave me, that’s the answer that hurts the most. Disappointment, it was worse than being mad or angry. I could work with those. But, disappointment was the worst. I was now at rock bottom. I shake my head, and lean against the window. Closing my eyes and praying they wouldn’t re-open. 

I feel her hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me “hey sleepy head. Time to wake up, we’re home” 

I groan and lean further into the door trying to escape her touch. My eyes stay closed “sleepy time here” 

“You aren’t sleeping in your truck, let’s get inside. You think you can help me?” She asks

“Oomppf” I groans, when the door I’m leaning against opens, the seat belt doing its job and keeping me up right in the car

Alex reaches into the truck and unhooks the seatbelt, grabbing my hands and she helps me slide out of the truck. She draps one of my arms over her shoulder, and wraps one around my waist, letting me lean against her.  Our height difference isn’t much, but she is supporting most of my weight. 

“Step…” she says and I lift a foot. The two of us stumble up the steps and my head is hurting. I really wish she would have just left me in the truck. 

We stop at the door, my arm moves, readjusting my grip holding on to her. Standing at the front door holding on to me with one hand, while the other fumbles with his keys trying to find the house key. I know I shouldn’t laugh but watching her struggle makes me chuckle. 

“Oh you think this is funny do you?” She’s frustrated and I just made it worse

I knew laughing was bad, but I couldn't help it when she was still struggling with the keys. She turned her focus to me, eyes narrow as she glares. She was cute when she was flustered. I press my lips together. Trying to hold back another laugh. It didn’t work as my eyes locked on to her and I snorted and laughed more. Laugh lines forming at the corner of my eyes I knew I was breaking her down and it would be impossible for her to stay mad at me. 

“If I let you go, you're not gonna fall are you?” She asks, her voice something between concern and anger. I just shrug, I probably would fall but she doesn’t need to know the truth 

Annoyed with my answer she sighs. I moved closer to her, she was warm, despite her anger and frustration with me. She was safe. She felt like home. I lean against her still struggling with the door. Finally, after a ten minute fight with the door she gets it opened. We stumble into the dark house. Thankfully getting the door locked on the inside was a much easier battle. 

“Alright Franklin, let’s get you to bed” 

My hallway is definitely not big enough for two people to walk side by side especially when one of the people is drunk. I try to position myself in front of Frankie, both his arms over my shoulders as his chest rests against my back. 

We reach his room and I move him towards his bed. I turn him and help him sit down. His hat had fallen off someone along the journey into his room. I slide off his jacket, turning to hang it in the chair. In slow motion Frankie begins to fall back “no..no…no” I grab his arm just in time keeping him up right on the bed. If he fell backwards I knew trying to undress him would be impossible.  

“Ok arms up” I say, he follows my order and lifts his arms above his head. 

“So bossy” he mumbles as I take the shirt off and toss it towards his dirty laundry pile. 

My hands rest on his broad shoulders. The muscle definition is still very evident in his biceps. I pray he doesn’t notice my eyes wander down his bare chest, briefly holding at his tattoo. I’ve never really looked at it this close. 

His hands reach for the hem of my dress, slowly beginning to lift it higher on my thigh. “You’re turn” he says before I catch his wrists 

“You’re drunk” I say softly and he shrugs

“Didn’t stop some people” 

I’m sure it didn’t, Frankie never had a problem getting girls, but I don’t know thinking about him being with others makes me slightly jealous, I shake my head and let go of his wrists. 

I bend down in front of him, his hands resting on my shoulders as I untie his shoes. He takes the hint and works with me to get his shoes off.  I start to stand up, “what about my pants?” he almost falls forward giggling. Good to know he still thinks this is funny “I don’t like pants” 

I roll my eyes and lean forward reaching for his belt buckle. I undo it and the button to his jeans. He falls back lifting his hips just enough for me to slide them off tossing it with the shirt. “There, are you happy?” 

He shuffles under the sheets, before I can go he grabs my hand “stay?” He asks. I don’t even have to look at him to know the look he’s giving me. Batting his eyes, his bottom lip quivers, using his big brown eyes to his advantage 

“Frankie, I can’t…” I sigh 

“Please?” 

I squeeze her hand, he doesn’t want to be alone. “Just till I fall asleep?” I add 

“Fine, just tell you fall asleep” I watch as she slides off her leather jacket and sets it on the back of my chair. Turning the light off, she shuffled back to me

I slide back, giving her enough room to lay down. I’m on my side, has my arm out. She lays down using my one arm as a pillow and I drape the other over her. She pulls the cover up. My hand resting on her hip. I lean into her resting my forehead against her temple breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. Hints of cherry and strawberry fill my senses. It smells like summer, it smells like home. 

Her hand rubs up and down my forearm in a soothing fashion. I feel so comfortable with her here. It’s where I want to keep her. 

“He’s not good enough for you” I say softly 

“What?” She twists her head to look at me

My eyes open to see hers staring at me, “Your date tonight” 

“You don’t even know him” she sighs 

“No one will be good enough for you Alex” I grip her tighter pulling her closer to me. I lean in closer to her. I want to kiss her, I want her to know how I feel. As much as I don’t think the guy she went out with today isn’t good enough, I know I’m not good enough either. 

She sighs again, turning her head to stare at the ceiling. Her finger tips brush over my skin. My thumb strokes her hip over her black dress. A black dress I wished was on the floor. 

I lift my head, leaning closer. I stick out my tongue and lick the side of her face. From check to temple. When her hands go still on my arm, but don’t move away I smile and lay my head back down. 

Twisting her head to look at me, I watch as she smiles back at me. My smile widens, I know my dimple appears and she shakes her head, “did you just lick me?” 

“I did…” I sigh and close my eyes again. Sleep just on the horizon. I hear her ask me why, “to say your mine. Like when you like something when your a kid you don’t want someone else to have” 

“Frankie” she sighs 

“You’re too good for him” and by him - I really meant myself. 

ANN: A huge shout out to @musings-of-a-rose for helping me with this and giving me confidence to post this in first person. I am still terrified of it. @theewokingdead and @heythere-mel for listening to my random ass ideas at all hours. I love each and every one of you.

Looking for more of my fics check out my masterlist. And check out other writers at @littlemisspascal and their library for all Pedro Characters

[ithaquasbbg]

This is another character study, I don’t think these do well in tumblr lol but they’re very fun for me to write </33

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Happy birthday, brother

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Pairing: None. If you count a friendship then maybe Itha and Nathaniel getting to meet idk? No romance they’re literally brothers 😭

Tw: Near death experiences, Child neglect, Religious trauma (kinda?), this entire thing is really deep and Nathaniel just needs a hug.

…..

Ithaqua had never understood how lucky he was to have his mother by his side, to have a parent to love him unconditionally and celebrate milestones with him as he got older. Each year on his birthday, or the one his mother believed was his, she made sure to give him as many gifts as she could despite their financial troubles.

Even with not receiving the most in the world, he was grateful and always appreciated the effort his mother put into his birthday despite not being his true mother. It was the year before this, on his 17th birthday that mother told Ithaqua of his origins. “I found you in the forest one night during a blizzard.” She tells him, nervous to how he would take this information. “I don’t know why a perfectly healthy and adorable baby could have ever been abandoned the way you were..” Ithaqua’s eyes widen as he listen, though not out of anger.

“I always wanted a child, you know? So I was more than happy to take you in.. to make sure I could give you a good life the way I would my own child.” Ithaqua gets up and quickly embraces his mother, holding her tight for a long time. “Mother, I love you so much, you know that?” She laughs and wipes her eyes, having gotten emotional while telling her story. “I love you more, my baby boy” with that, she leaves a kiss on Ithaqua’s forehead, causing him to groan “I’m not a baby, mother..” he whispers, to which she only laughs, ruffling his hair “you’re never too old to be my baby, Ithaqua.”

….

Nathaniel on the other hand, had never celebrated his birthday, it wasn’t seen as necessary by his parents. So year after year, he’d sit in his room for hours doing the work that has been asked of him. He had no doubt his parents didn’t love him, that they simply had him out of necessity rather than to have a child of their own.

When he was younger, he’d find himself sobbing and wishing he could have been born anywhere else, to a family that had truly loved him. Those cries fell upon deaf ears, and year after year his parents would keep him in his bedroom, not doing much more than to offer him dinner as usual.

He had never been enough for mother and father, he knew this. Since the moment he was born, his parents acted as if he was only a fraction of what they wanted. Even as a little kid, he was forced into studying endlessly, not allowed to play with other children normally.

The townspeople gave their children birthday parties, and he could feel himself harboring nothing but resentment, even now at 18, he still found himself longing for someone, anyone to think he was deserving enough to be celebrated. All he had ever wanted was to know why his parents resented him so much, why they acted like they didn’t even want him.

He sneaks into his parents room during the short time frame they’re out, rummaging through diaries from years past, landing on one from the year he was born. “Why was the cuter child the stillborn one? It’s almost like the other child was cursed to ruin this family, his ugly face cursed to take away our pride and joy.”

Nathaniel’s eyes widen as he covers his mouth, trying to hard to keep himself from falling apart. Page after page lists what they had done to his poor twin brother, the reasons they resented Nathaniel, all of it.

Unable to take it anymore, he throws the diary into a mirror, causing it, along with his own reflection to shatter into millions of pieces. For years, he prayed they were just strict, that they may have had some love for their son.. but seeing his parents hatred for their own son ruined his own self perception.

He’s almost blinded by his tears as he runs into the woods behind his home, harsh wind and snow making it difficult for him to move, to think straight. Eventually, he collapses on the ground next to a tree, unable to feel anything other than the freezing cold, and the pain in his own throat from screaming so much, screaming to the god who had brought him to this world as a curse.

The god he had worshiped for years only created him to ruin the lives of others, he wasn’t a being deserving of gods love or forgiveness, especially when he was simply made as a joke, to inflict pain. Nathaniel feels the tears running down his face slowly freezing as he curls up into himself, terrified of his almost guaranteed death. “Please god.. listen to one of my prayers.. don’t let me die here..” he croaks, losing consciousness shortly after this last prayer.

….

Ithaqua and his mother are walking back from the lake at sunset, a heavy snowstorm picking up around them as they begin to rush to get home. “Mother..” Ithaqua sees something in the distance, motioning for his mother to come look. “Somebody’s out here in the middle of nowhere during a blizzard..” Mother quickly hands Ithaqua her stuff and runs in the direction of the footsteps, leading Ithaqua to follow her.

What awaits them is a scene that shocks both Ithaqua and his mother. A young man who’s identical to Ithaqua, freezing to death on the side of a snow covered pathway, frozen tears on his now blue tinted cheeks. “Ithaqua, put the baskets down! We need to get him inside!” Ithaqua quickly obeys, setting the baskets on the ground and helping mother carry the young man into their cabin, setting him on the couch as mother rushes to find anything to warm him up, eventually setting on running a warm bath, placing the unconscious young man in it.

For what feels like hours the two watch over the mysterious man, in worry that he had already passed. Just when they’re about to give up, he opens his eyes slightly, squinting as he looks around, his eyes finding their way to Ithaqua. “…who are you?” He whispers, trying to understand what’s going on.

Ithaqua shrugs, grabbing a warm towel and pressing it onto Nathaniel’s head while mother goes to the kitchen to grab some warm tea. “…could you… were you found in the forest?” His voice is weak, but just audible enough for Ithaqua to hear him. “Yes.. at birth, May I ask why you want to know?”

Nathaniel pulls a few papers with his shaking hands, they’re soaked but legible enough for Ithaqua to understand. As soon as he reads them, he calls for mother and shows her the papers. Her eyes widen in shock before she grabs onto Nathaniel, holding him tight. “I’m so sorry darling.. nobody deserves this”

The feeling of touch causes Nathaniel to lose it in the woman’s arms, letting out years and years of repressed sadness and frustration as he cries, refusing to let go of the person in front of him, the first person who had ever treated him like a human, rather than some creation.

“Please.. please don’t bring me back home” he mumbles, feeling Ithaqua’s hands rubbing his back as mother continues holding him, his thin frame shaking violently with every breath. “Shh.. darling, I’d never do that to you” she whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind Nathaniel’s ear while wiping his eyes. “I’ll keep you darling, it gives me one more person to love..”

….

The next morning, Nathaniel wakes up on a small bed, dressed in dry clothing with his hair tied back. He slowly gets out of bed, noticing the smell of breakfast coming from right outside his room. He peeks out, seeing Ithaqua and his mother each holding two small gift boxes.

“It’s nothing much, Darling, but allow us to give you something you deserve.” Nathaniel sits down and slowly opens the boxes, his eyes filling with tears at the simple gifts given to him, turning and hugging the both of them as he cries tears of joy for the first time in his entire life, holding the small trinkets close to him.

“Thank you..” he whispers, admiring the small plush he had been given, much like a child would. He didn’t care about the nature of the gift, however. Nathaniel simply holds the bear close to his chest, wiping his eyes as he looks at Ithaqua and his.. now their mother. For the first time in his entire life, he feels complete, he feels whole, Nathaniel finally feels loved.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

I'll Show You Uptight (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Adult!Bakugou x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers) 

Synopsis: In which a very pissed and very emotionally frustrated Bakugou decides he’s not going to let you get away with your lip that easily and pays you a visit one girls’ night to prove to you that he is, indeed, able to be “looser” after you make a drunk comment about his introverted and uptight personality to your mutual friends and Kirishima “accidentally” spills the beans. 

Story Warnings: Smutty smut (MINORS DON’T READ), 18+, AgedUp!Bakugou (he’s 25 years old), Swearing, Grinding, Public Displays of Affection, Mentions of & Consumption of Alcohol, Consensual Sex w/ Verbalization, Foreplay, Public Kink, Manhandling, Mild Degradation, Praise Kink, Daddy Kink, Spit Play, 69ing, Facefucking, Safe Sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), Edge Play, Spanking, Mild Choking, MULTIPLE Positions, MULTIPLE Orgasms for Reader, Aftercare, Reader is black-coded but anyone can read this 

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you! 

Writer’s Note: GO TOUCH SOME GRASS SLUTS. And enjoy! My hands fucking hurt from writing this horny shit but it's with all the love & dedication. Love you! -Jazz

Ao3 link here!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

*********

Chapter Five

Bakugou swore he never moved faster in his life than when he dragged you off the floor and through the club to the back door that led out into the alleyway of the club. 

The spring air was fresh and warm enough where light jackets were acceptable. It cooled the sweat sticking to his skin, not just from the dancing but from you being so close and your hand finally being in his. It also eased the tension he felt in his pants from receiving the wickedest whine you gave him earlier, your soft ass pressed into him. 

“Wait, where are we going?” you asked breathlessly. He didn’t answer as he led you out into the alleyway and shut the door behind him.

The way it slammed shut made you cringe slightly, your jump cute as fuck to Bakugou. He was silent as he whirled around and began to stalk toward you, obviously coming off as a predator stalking its prey. 

You began to walk backward away from him until you hit the brick wall of the club building. “Katsuki?” you weakly questioned. Bakugou still didn’t answer, too afraid of ruining the confidence and adrenaline that ran through him like wildfire. 

It consumed him enough that he was able to grip your arms, press you farther against the wall, and swoop in to plant one on you. There was that voice in his head screaming at him, no, stop, don’t, you’ll fuck it up, but the way you looked standing in the moonlight, the soft glow of it illuminating your skin and glossy lips, was just too much. 

Speaking of your lips, they were as soft and as sweet as he dreamed that they were. He could taste the many rounds of shots and cocktails off of your lips as his mouth enveloped yours. You tensed underneath his hold, going as rigid as a board, but then slowly began to relax as the kiss went on. Bakugou held himself back, not wanting to be greedy and scare you away, but he let you know he was desperate. 

His tongue slid against your bottom lip, asking for access, and you allowed it. His tongue swirled around yours, exploring every corner of your mouth the way he dreamed of. The soft moan you let out made his blood go out and the hunger for you rise. He felt just like a wolf now who got a sniff of the sweetest bit of blood from his little bunny. 

Finally, to let you breathe, he pulled away, your lips pulling from his with a soft pop that made his cock twitch. You looked flushed and breathless, your chest rapidly rising and falling, similar to his.

“I’ve wanted to do that to you for months,” he exhaled, relief evident in his voice. Relief from being free of the shackles of holding back his true feelings. 

You stared up at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “W-What?” you softly whispered. 

That was not the reply he was expecting. “What, you stupid?” he growled, but not meanly. He pulled away from you, moving away to give you space. You stood firmly against the wall, looking at him like he was a total stranger. “You still don’t get it, do you?” he scoffed. 

“What are you talkin’ about?” you asked, squinting confusedly at him. 

Bakugou growled, wanting to punch the wall. “Fuckin’ fuck, Y/N!” he shouted, frustration taking over. He could’ve pulled his hair out with how dense you were. “I fuckin’ like you, idiot!” he snapped, going mad with the frustration and pressure.  “Goddamn, you cannot be this naive. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t.” 

There. It was out there now. No going back now. 

He watched you intently, waiting for your negative response or for you to run away. But instead, you just stood there like you were frozen, your face still screwed up in confusion. “Wait, you…you like me?” you gently replied. “The same way I like you?” 

Bakugou’s ears perked at your confession like a dog’s. “Wait…” He stared you down, waiting for you to laugh it off and admit that this was a joke.

But you didn’t. You continued to give him that soft-eyed gaze that melted him completely. He was so confused. “But you told Kiri you’d never date me because I’m too uptight.” 

At his words, your expression withered. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, looking ashamed. “That was wrong of me to say, drunk or not. I just didn’t want people to know how I really felt about you.” Bakugou’s heart picked up speed, his breath quickening at the turn of events. “I really thought you were uptight and introverted, and in my mind, I felt that maybe that was a justification for me never telling you how I felt. I thought it was for the best.” 

You pushed yourself off of the wall, moving to close the gap between the both of you. Bakugou stood perfectly still, afraid of ruining this perfect moment. “But now I see that I was wrong, and I’ll gladly show you how sorry I am if you let me.” 

“Baby�� Er, Y/N,” he softly cooed, quickly switching to your name to avoid embarrassing himself. It’s bad enough he let the pet names slip while inside the club, but it felt so natural to call you shit like that. “How long have you felt this way?” 

You bit your bottom lip shyly, causing Bakugou to get even harder. Did you even realize the affect you had on him? “Since I started,” you admitted sheepishly. His eyes widened at your confession. You’ve been pining over him–him–for that long? “Shit,” he hissed, shocked. “Me too.” 

You looked up at him in shock. He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush coating his cheeks. “I guess we’re both idiots then, huh?” he chuckled, earning a sheepish giggle from your pretty little mouth. 

He breathed in deeply, the air coated with the scent of your perfume and blooming flowers. Now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated and you’ve been feeling this way as long as he did, he felt so…free. Like he didn’t have to hold anything back anymore. “I owe you an apology too,” he blurted before his ego could stop him. You went to protest, but he put up a hand, silencing you. “Just listen for a sec. Look, I…”

He trailed off, battling hard with himself internally. He didn’t want to be seen as lame or cramp his style, but he also didn’t want to seem the way you perceived him as for so long: unfeeling. C’mon, don’t fuck this up! “I’m not good with this–feelings, I mean. Especially romantic ones. I barely had any in high school; just hookups. So when I met you and it wasn’t just sexual attraction, I didn’t know what to do. That’s why I came off real cross with you, so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.” 

He stared down at his sneakers and kicked a lone rock against the wall. “I was so sure after hearing that shit from Kiri that I had no chance with you whatsoever, but I figured I’d at least show you how I felt after gettin’ some advice from those losers I came in here with.” 

When his eyes trail back to yours, he finds those big, brown orbs to be filled with nothing but happiness and a tender softness that makes him swoon. “Well, they certainly gave you some good advice,” she giggled happily, “and consider your feelings heard and understood crystal clear.” 

You surprised him further by slinking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He welcomed you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He sighed, content. This felt so right. “I never knew you could dance like that, ‘Suki,” you hummed into the air between you. 

Bakugou swore he couldn’t have been more turned on by you. But when you murmur that little nickname to him, he just about fucked you into the wall behind you. “What’d you call me?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips and his arms gripping your waist a little tighter. 

“‘Suki,” you repeated coyly, your soft, kissable lips forming the words sensually. “Is that okay?” 

Bakugou replied with a kiss, pouring every ounce of passion and searing heat into it. When he pulled away, you let out a tiny exhale as if you were holding your breath.

“If you wanna get something besides a kiss, I’d say fuck yes,” he growled against her lips. “And, baby, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” 

His arms slid from your waist only for his hands to find their way to your hips, gripping them possessively. The gasp that slid from your lips was intoxicating. Everything about you was–your skin, your eyes, your pretty smile, your scent, especially when he pressed his nose into your braids and breathed in the sweet scent of that synthetic hair spray that smelled faintly of mangos. 

You pulled away enough to kiss him yourself, nearly knocking him out of his pants. When you pulled away, your eyes were gleaming. “Well, maybe you’d be up for telling and showing me all of ‘em,” you cooed against his chin, pecking him there. “Especially the rest of those moves.” 

Bakugou inwardly growled, gripping you tighter to him so you could feel that hard-on he was packing for you. “Tell me when and where.” 

“Now.”

He blinked down at you and your bold, immediate answer. He wasn’t expecting that at all. “Uh…now?” he parroted, shook. When you just gave him that sexy little smile, he realized you were deadass. “You’re serious?” he asked, eyes widening an inch. “Sugar, you sure?” 

He wanted to make sure it wasn’t the alcohol doing all the talking here. He wanted to make sure you were serious because if you were…honey…he was fucking you up.

He was gonna take your ass home, whether that be his place or yours, and make sure you and everyone else knew you were his now. Whether that meant coating your neck and chest in hickies, stretching you out so no other man could compare, or making you cum until daylight, he was going to make sure you got the picture. 

You unwrapped your arms from him and took his hands from your hips, holding them in your smaller, softer ones. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you replied, kissing his hands. It went straight to his cock. “I’ve been pining after you for months, sir, and nothing is going to stop me from getting my hands on you now that I know that you feel the same.” 

Bakugou felt like he died and went to heaven. There was no way this was real life. “That ‘getting to know you’ shit can wait till tomorrow,” you purred. “Tonight, I wanna get to know you in another way.” You pressed against him once more, your breasts pushing deliciously into his broad chest and soft lips pecking his cheek. 

Oh, you were serious. Oh, my fucking God, this woman. 

“Fuck,” he growled at you, and his dick twitched in agreement. “Say no more.” You laughed giddily as he took your hand and ran with you to his car that was parked in the valet. He whistled for the valet man and once he got his keys out, he tipped the guy $100 much to his excitement. 

He opened the door for you first, watching the way your ass and legs moved as you settled into the leather seat of his sports car. After shutting the door, he raced around the front, flung the door open, and got into the driver’s seat with the quickness. As soon as he pressed down onto the gas pedal, the car came to life. 

“You okay with speed?” he asked, glancing at you. You looked at him, looking like a damn angel sitting under the blue lights of his car. “Yeah,” you laughed.

Bakugou smirked and flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Good, ‘cause I’m double-timing this shit, and if I get a ticket before I get you out of this dress, someone’s dying.”