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#which that last one sounds like a joke but it also kind of bugs me

pagannatural · 15 days

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2.11 Playthings 👭👬

-episode of my life. If you only ever watch one episode of supernatural let it be this one. Creepy dolls creepy dollhouse creepy little girls a lonely Connecticut inn a desperate drunken tousle between the incest brothers. It doesn’t get any better than this.

-Dean gives Sam a hard time about suggesting a case after they’ve been looking for Ava for a month. Dean doesn’t even know Ava, but he’s spent the last month looking for her because it was important to Sam. When Sam doesn’t respond to Dean’s teasing, he backs right off. Dean is controlling and possessive but he is also respectful and considerate because he thinks the world of Sam.

-Dean says Sam’s attitude “is just way too healthy for me, I’m officially uncomfortable now” which is funny because it’s not true that Sam’s attitude is healthy and he will get drunk and misbehave about it, but it checks out that Dean is uncomfortable with healthy dynamics.

-Sam smirks at Dean’s joke in this really cute way. It shows that he still looks up to Dean, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

-the innkeeper mistakes them for a gay couple and assumes they’ll want a king sized bed and Sam says “what? No—no two singles. We’re just brothers.”

Spot the difference between these two pictures

That mighty flustered, genuinely panicky “just brothers” sounds exactly like a “we’re just friends” moment between a will they/won’t they couple and it’s so weird that he says it that way. A normal answer would be “oh this is my brother” and then everybody moves on. But this is a tv show and there’s a reason for this scene to be included in this episode. It highlights that the nature of their relationship as brothers is more layered, and this messy denial tells the viewer that there is a romantic/sexual layer.

Back in Asylum in s1, Dean was mistaken for Sam’s boss specifically to make it clear to the viewer that Dean had more authority in their dynamic at the time, which played into Sam’s anger at Dean. This is a similar way for an outsider’s interpretation of the relationship to shed light on it. Their individual reactions to the assumption that they’re a romantic couple are meaningfully different—Sam is embarrassed and nervous like he’s been caught. Dean is feeling some kind of way.

He looks guilty, like he’s doing something wrong. He played along with people thinking he and Sam were a couple in Bugs and went as far as to slap Sam’s ass and call him honey. He seems pretty comfortable with his sexuality and with people being gay in general, like the joke he made about the only real thing about him being his boobs or the time he sarcastically told a scowling male store owner that his smile really lights up a room. He’s playful, he’s not weird about it (until season 8 but that’s another post). So something else is going on here.

His attitude toward this kind of mistake has changed since season 1. A lot has happened, but I think the point at which things shifted for Dean was that moment in Croatoan when he decided that he was going to stay with and protect Sam when they thought he was infected. The episode was a major turning point for Dean. That’s what pushed him to finally tell Sam what John said, and it was the first time Dean really thought Sam was going to die. It also paralleled the scene from Provenance in which Sam almost puts his feelings for Dean into words. Back then, Dean was able to take control of the situation to avoid Sam’s feelings and his own. In Croatoan, he’s the one forced to consider his feelings and why he would live and die and kill for Sam, and Sam alone. It’s no longer possible for him to ignore the feelings between them. He knows or suspects strongly that Sam has feelings for him, and now he can’t deny that he does too. It’s one of his major conflicts moving forward.

-Dean asks Sam why people always assume they’re gay, saying it’s a “troubling question,” and Sam says “you are kind of butch. They probably think you’re overcompensating” which Dean takes in as though it’s an equally troubling revelation. They look like a couple, and therefore they look queer, from the outside: Sam with his shy demeanor, soft voice, longish hair, deference to Dean in most situations (Dean goes to the front desk, Sam hangs back a little, his body mostly facing Dean), and just general feminine-coding throughout the show. Dean with his cropped hair, gravelly voice, overconfidence, and constant womanizing.

Queer people have this shared experience of never feeling like they’re doing masculinity or femininity correctly, and knowing or realizing that other people can tell they don’t fit in, but not really being able to name what they’re doing wrong. Sam is too feminine and Dean is too masculine and when they’re together they read as a gay couple.

Croatoan drew attention to this too, but again, it’s not really about coding them as lgbt, it’s about coding them as queer and incestuous in a gothic, monstrous way. They are Other and it’s in their blood just like the monsters they hunt.

-Dean has Sam pretend to love dolls, to further underscore his feminine role in their relationship for the viewer. It would be so cute if Sam really did love dolls as a kid.

-Dean tells Sam not to look at porn in their room, apropos of nothing.

-someone else dies. Shot of Sam, damsel, gazing out the window of his tower as the body is carried out and Dean talks to the innkeeper.

Dean goes into their room, where Sam is sitting facing away from the open door in a way that feels foreboding, like something is wrong. It’s similar to the shot of Rose a little later in the episode, with her in her chair facing away from the door.

Sam is drunk because he couldn’t save the guy who died, and “the more people I save the more I can change.” He’s afraid of becoming corrupted and at least some part of him believes that he will (that he already is) and needs to make up for it.

Sam says Dean has to watch out for him “and if I ever turn into something that I’m not you have to kill me.” He argues that John said Dean has to and Dean says “Yeah well dad’s an ass” which is a very bold thing for Dean to say about the dead father he once idolized. He obeyed John to keep Sam safe, and he’s finally letting himself be angry with John.

Sam says even now everyone around him dies. He says “please, Dean, you’re the only one who can do it. Promise.”

So Sam is drunk and in crisis over believing that he will become evil, in this episode that makes sure to emphasize the sexual undertones in his relationship with his brother, in an interaction that looks charged and erotic. He’s begging his brother to kill him rather than let him fall, holding onto Dean’s shirt and pulling him down toward him, his eyes locked on Dean’s.

Dean says “Don’t ask that of me” but Sam gives him the puppiest tear-filled eyes so Dean lies, he says “I promise.” At this point Sam is sitting on his bed and Dean is leaning over him, Sam grasping his shirt to keep him close and keep his attention.

Sam looks at Dean’s lips, says “thank you,” inhales, and grabs Dean’s face in both his hands, his thumb near the corner of Dean’s lip. It looks like he’s trying to kiss Dean. The fact that he inhaled rather than exhaled also just makes it feel more like a lead-up to something rather than a conclusion.

Dean pushes Sam away, closing his eyes as if conflicted, Sam still holding onto his face. It’s a little aggressive. Dean has to shove Sam off of him forcefully.

Dean pushes Sam onto his back on the bed, where he watches him turn to his stomach and nestle into the mattress, arching his lower back with his face in the pillow. Dean puts a hand over his mouth and traces his lips, his eyes dragging over Sam’s body.

Just describing the basic mechanics of this scene makes its eroticism clear. Dean touches his lips after Sam looks at them in a gesture loaded with restraint and tension. It’s another of those scenes that usually happen between romantic leads: the woman gets drunk and confesses something and/or needs to be taken care of and the man treats her respectfully but not so respectfully that he isn’t a little seduced. Dean could have let Sam kiss him (or do whatever he was going to do), but he has so many reasons not to: fear of hurting him, of Sam leaving him, of betraying his role as his savior and protector. Dean’s self worth comes from loving Sam, so if he loves Sam Wrong he feels worthless.

And that’s to say nothing of the fact that Sam is begging Dean to take ultimate control over his body by deciding whether he lives, and deciding whether he’s good or bad. His fears are soothed by the idea that whatever happens he can be Dean’s, he can belong to his brother. He’s okay with dying only if it’s by Dean’s hand. His whole life he’s felt something was wrong with him, so if it’s true and Dean confirms it, he is the only one who can kill it. The corruption in Sam (in both of them) has already been heavily linked to blood and their relationship and now Sam is verbalizing it—No! We’re just brothers. Why does everyone assume we’re gay? Sam holding Dean’s face, drunk, saying there is something wrong with me and it’s your responsibility. Please, you’re the only one who can do it.

-Sam is throwing up the next morning. Dean says something gross about a sandwich in an ashtray that makes Sam gag and say “I hate you” and Dean says “I know you do.” The way Dean says this sounds like he really thinks Sam hates him, which came up in Asylum as well. After last night, this has to have something to do with Sam’s feelings for him and the fact that Sam thinks Dean is the only one who should kill him. He thinks it’s tied to Sam hating him and his self-hatred for loving Sam wrong.

-Maggie tells Tyler “I can’t leave this haunted house and you can’t leave me.” Sam and Dean can’t leave the haunted house that is their life because they can’t leave each other.

-Maggie tells Rose “you’d do that for me?” which Sam has basically said to Dean, and “you kept me away for so long I thought you didn’t love me any more” which fits both of them at different times. Rose is the little sister choosing to die so that Maggie doesn’t have to spend eternity alone, and saving Tyler. It’s a creepy, haunting ending that parallels Sam and Dean. The sisters play together forever in a haunted house and the brothers drive off to hunt together out of the haunted houses and motels and backroads they were raised in.

#wincest #samdean #supernatural #spn meta #sam and dean #spn 2x11 #playthings

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greenerteacups · 13 days

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Vague Statement of Authorial Preferences on "Constructive Criticism"

I've written this carefully to try to avoid sounding ungrateful or oversensitive. I get wonderful engagement on Lionheart, and 99% of it is positive, heartwarming, flattering, humbling. I'm grateful for that every day, and I never take it for granted. Whatever the 1% consists of, I acknowledge it's a vanishing fraction of the response. The last thing I want to be is a sour grape.

That being said, I think the fic must've been recced on a non-D/H forum, because there's been a few... slightly more critical comments lately. Not a ton, but they're there. Which is fine. I acknowledge I'm a little sensitive to criticism on fanfic, mostly because it's supposed to be my fun, no-pressure, no-bad-vibes hobby, and I've had the occasional self-critical spirals that stop me from writing. But that's no one's problem but mine. Also, it's the Internet. People will say what they think. That's the bug, and that's the feature. I've been around long enough to acquire a decently thick skin. I just don't really want to use it in this particular forum, for this particular thing.

(For the record: pointing out typos, wrong word choices, wrong use of "it's/its," that's fine. And cracking jokes about the fic is a fun way to engage! I'm really not harsh about this, I don't think. But if your only comment is a major structural criticism of how I conceive and do plots: that's the kind of feedback I'm talking about here.)

I want to stress a lack of ill will towards critics; some of them have been respectful. In fact, a lot of them word their comments like they're editors on a project they like — which is what I believe they think they're doing. I don't see any malice in it; it's just a problem of different Internet circles with different Internet etiquette bumping into each other. So I thought I should clarify! Here's my standing declaration of etiquette preference: there is a difference in the standard of expected criticism between published work that you pay for and amateur work you get for free. I have a job. I get critique in my job, I work with it, I learn from it, I grow from it. Fanfiction is my hobby. The places I seek critical feedback on my skills are not, respectfully, the AO3 comments section.

And if you've spent hours of your time reading 600,000 words of free fiction and all you could think to say about it was something critical, you and I are very different kinds of participant in fandom, and that's probably a sufficient reason for us not to interact.

#lionheart

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

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I’ve got one more request in my brain and then I’ll stop for a while…maybe

So this one is an solo? I.H.A where y/n is doing stand up! Halfway through Jax is egging on reader and going “boo get off the stage” which causes y/n to stop and rail into Jax in the vein of “that’s why yo mama dead” this goes on for 10 minuets, everyone shocked and Caine’s jaw in the earth. Then y/n drops the mic and walks off. If it’s possible could I also add the others reaction to this? Thanks! ❤️❤️ ps your writing is great

Stand up Comedy where you get back at a rude audience member

wasnt too sure what to name this since its not exactly a shipping thing, maybe, i think... i dunno!! this post may be a little short, may not be, we shall see! erm!! warning i do not have good humor i think, like i am unfunny finally getting to requests for today; took me a little longer than usual since i went out to go get some breakfast and i threw together some dough for cinnamon rolls today also gentle reminder ! currently requests are closed so i can catch up on my inbox and take a short break! i dont have a set time for them to open again, but i aim to reopen in a few days! any new requests sent in will be void; its nothing against you my inbox is just flooded rn and i need to empty it out </3

caine thought it would be a good idea for you guys to do a little comedy night; be it for bonding or for entertainment you werent sure

however throughout the night, jax was calling out to whoever was on stage and trying to either steal their show or simply being mean

so far, pomni had gone (who froze up on stage the second the lights were on her), gangle (poor girl was bullied off stage by jax), kinger (who just rambled about cool bug facts)

needless to say so far the night was a bit of a disaster

currently, zooble was up on stage, not even making an attempt to do jokes. any jokes they did make were a bit on the darker side; and of course, jax was loudly cutting in

"you know what? <> this!" zooble drops the prop mic and storms off the stage, the air being a tense afterwards

you feel caine nudging your side, alerting you that you were up next

you internally sighed, you really didnt want to do this, in fact it seemed like just about everyone didnt want to do this

jax immediately started on his bullshit before you even had a chance to open your mouth, already booing. from on the stage you could see ragatha giving him a look

you tried to begin again, before jax made a comment on how quiet you were

"oh course you'd know about sound, seriously have you seen how big your feet are? you slap the floor instead of stomping"

silence

zooble lets out a choked laugh, and you can see caine jerk forward as he tried to contain a surprised laugh

jax narrows his eyes, and he opened he mouth

"hang on wait when was the last time you brushed your teeth? i mean come on man, youre teeth are yellow. maybe the reason no ones been laughing is because theyre choking from how bad your breath smells"

gangle holds her hands over her mouth, seemingly in shock. kingers eyes darted between you and jax, and pomni held a similar expression to gangle... jax, of course, was fuming, trying to rattle off a come back, ultimately failing and stammering that his teeth are meant to be that color

you had to admit, it was odd seeing jax finally being knocked down a peg, but it was satisfying in its own way

you kind of ragged on him for another minute before seeing yourself off stage

the entire room was silent

caine pulled his lower jaw off the floor, and regained himself, before letting jax know it was his turn up next

tonight was going to be a long night...

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader

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aprillikesthings · 1 month

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HELLO EVERYONE

it is Thursday night which means it's my weekend which means IT'S SHE-RA TIME

On a related note a bunch of the stuff for my cosplay (like, clothes) gets here tomorrow and then I can put it all together and look in front of the mirror and make weird noises at myself and take terrible selfies, so stay tuned for that yeah? Yeah!

OKAY

I'M STARTING SEASON FIVE oh god

s5 ep1 Horde Prime

My semi-frequent reminder that these are a re-watch, spoilers ahoy, I make a lot of dumb jokes

I'm going to tRY to scale back on how much of the episodes I like, describe. Those last two eps of s4 I ended up just telling the whole thing, to the point of copy/pasting a shit-ton of dialogue from the damn fan transcripts.

BUT THERE WAS SO MUCH LORE AND STORY AND SHIT and I want to remember everything uggghhhhh

okay I just noticed the rating, and I can't screenshot it bc it disappears when I pause, but the show is rated for age 7 and up and says "fantasy violence, fear"

Fear??? I mean that's...not wrong. But it feels like a weird way of wording it?

This was pretty, but then the damn Horde Prime ships showed up.

you broke the sword, girly

(for good reason! but still. also the music actually starts the little rah-rah transformation tune and then cuts off)

I hate it when creepy dudes watch me via bot soldiers

I remember reading that there are parts of the intro that change multiple times across this season, and I know Daci and I just skipped the intro every time when we marathoned this season back in 2020, so I'm watching them all this time, and

O_O

And she's not She-Ra! Just Adora!

the shards of Narsil....wait wrong fantasy story

Ohhhh they're all hiding under some kind of invisibility/protection shield constantly maintained by sorcerers. That makes sense.

ALSO I remember noticing this the first time, but you can tell they got a higher budget this season.

ugggh let it go

Everyone else says the same thing lol (along with "literally we can't because we don't have She-Ra anymore")

Adora's obviously still engaging in her self-sacrificial bullshit and Perfuma's like "no u gotta take ppl with u" but then

NOT. HELPING.

I mean Glimmer's room on the ship is nice (if sterile and too brightly-lit) but oof

oh, are you also lonely? do you also long for someone at least a little familiar? Hm????

;_;

Horde Prime just like "yo my bro hated your guts when I showed up lol did u know that"

(referring to the Heart of Etheria) yeah sweetie that's not gonna save your ass for long

He's so fucking creepy!!

Also I know they were inspired by megachurches and conservative Christian stuff when making Horde Prime's ship, but the music here even sounds kind of like an organ!

(...which is funny when you remember that megachurches usually have, like, rock bands)

Stop doing your self-sacrificial bullshit....without us!!

Does anyone else always wonder what they use for bathrooms?? The ones in the Fright Zone didn't have obvious restrooms either. Anyway.

So I know people were shipping Glitra for obvious reasons before this season but this whole storyline was just fucking great on that front lol

But also look at how fucking SMUG she is!

bahaha the "how's it going, Princess?" line is said almost as unnecessarily sexy as the "hey, Adora" thing

HAH. Glimmer is RIGHT.

Catra: nah man I'mma kick my ass to the top like I did last time Glimmer: u will get crushed like a BUG you DIPSHIT Clones: COME TO DINNER

oh sure, NOW you're looking at her for sympathy pfft

Clone: PRAISE THE LORD Everyone else: oh please shut the fuck up

("April aren't yOU Christian" yes but like, not that kind.)

Who else read A Wrinkle in Time? Remember that meal they had on Camazotz where everything tasted like sand to Meg because she was the only one who was completely resistant to the hypnotism bullshit IT did? Anyway that's what I'm reminded of.

the little she-ra doll :(

Even Catra's not thrilled to see this. (That or she saw Scorpia fighting and feels guilty)

When says "Adora," Catra scratches the table

GLIMMER GOD DAMMIT (but also look at poor Catra's face)

OH RIGHT because if he knows this he has no reason to keep Catra around.

But she can't stop looking at the screen where Adora just was ahahah

YOU COULDN'T DO IT ALONE BEFORE

lol Bow says it. "You're not alone. You've never been." But he's nicer about it than me.

Catra: oooh, princesses and their *~feelings~* Horde Prime: lol you're not any better

I am actively resisting the urge to make a BBC Sherlock reference. IYKYK.

"Adora means something to you." 👀

His little speech about "you Etherians are all alike, such strong connections to each other...it's what makes you weak," is such a great way of contrasting him to the actual Good Guys. Empathy and compassion, caring for others--those aren't weaknesses!

But if your goal is ruthlessly destroying everything in the universe for your own power, then yeah, they would be.

And of course, Catra does think her connections to others is what makes her weak, at this point in the story.

augh

"Now that I know about She-Ra and the weapon, what purpose do I have for you? Your little ploy of parsing out information like a bartering chip was never going to last long out here... I see all. I know all. But fear not. I have great plans for you. Every part of the machine is of value. Even you...little sister."

AAUGH

(and that's why the rating for this show warns for "fear" lol)

And then Adora has one of her weird dreams about She-Ra and shattering the sword but while awake, and clearly it pains her--and then she passes out, end of episode.

Anyway I managed to make it all fit in one post but only barely, I had to go back and delete a few, lol

TBH I should probably just assume these are all gonna be two-parters, there's so much plot.

#april rewatches spop #horde prime

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quickhacked · 9 months

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🖊️💯🤔 for ambrose!!

oc asks!

🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?

vibrating at a very normal velocity right now i've been WANTING TO TALK ABOUT THISSSS THANK YOU ok so ambrose has several tattoos >:^)

the oldest one is a scythe on the inside of his left wrist. it's something he got when he was known as "the reaper" at arasaka but ended up kind of hating it because he finally realized that he wanted to be more than just. reduced to a weapon by everyone around him basically? his status suddenly didn't feel like something he was proud of anymore and just felt like a burden :( that's why he ends up adding a bunch of flowers around the scythe, not really to cover it up but to kinda put it to rest if that makes sense!! he doesn't want to completely get rid of his past as the reaper because it's such a vital part of his life but he wants to be able to move on from it and the addition of flowers to the tattoos symbolizes that :D

at some point he also would've gotten a tattoo of flowers (which ones to be determined) covering his left side + the left side of his thigh >:^) mostly just flowers but it's got little details added to it as well, mostly insects and herbs and stuff. he likes bugs :)

brings me to the next one which is a butterfly behind his ear! a very simple one compared to the other two but he liked the idea of it, it marks a fresh new start for him at some point in his story when he starts leaving arasaka behind him and tries to build up a better life for himself and his daughter

and with that his last tattoo: the name of his daughter, rei, on the inside of his right wrist :D would've gotten this one before the butterfly tattoo still when he was still forced to work for arasaka so he could like, carry her with him every day despite being away from home so often

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

ambrose is a very good cook! was taught how to cook from a very young age and all the older people from the community he lived in taught him their best recipes which he's adjusted slightly over time to his own liking and has perfected nowadays >:^) he's got more time for it again nowadays with his retirement finally closing in (and eventually when he's retired from arasaka he actually starts working part-time in the kitchen of a restaurant!) and he's missed it so much. he's having the time of his life again now

he's also a GREAT singer but basically never sings. he's too cool for that nobody's allowed to know. but he Will sing in the shower when he (thinks he) is home alone and he will do it loudly and it will be very good but also if he realizes he was Not in fact home alone he Will die of embarrassment LMAO

and lastly he is Basically a cowboy. basically. he used to work on the farms of his community a lot when he was younger and would help with all the farm animals AND he was a horse girl. do with this information what you will

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

ambrose can be found talking to himself a lot but it's always just a mumble. good luck trying to figure out what he's saying even if you ARE able to hear it there's like only 50% chance it will make sense to you SHGFDKGDFJG

nail biter too. used to be very very bad because everyone always got on his nerves back at arasaka but he's managing a lot better nowadays :) when he Does start biting his nails again he's insanely stressed so if anything that tells those around him that he needs like a several week vacation at the earliest opportunity

he also makes the most godawful dad jokes you've heard in your entire life but he does it So effortlessly. especially he and rei bounce off each other very well in conversation, sometimes it really just sounds like two standup comedians both trying to do their bit at the same time but it WORKS

#asks #mutuals #devilbrakers #ask:ambrose #oc asks #THAMK YOUUU he is. the most specialest old man of night city #after retiring he would also go back to his roots a bit and he'd probably start helping at one of the farms again!!#his community mostly scattered after he went to work for arasaka because of financial issues and like #several corporations were trying to pressure them into moving their camp away so they could build things there #so there's not a lot of them left there anymore but i like to think they'll regroup at some point with ambrose's help :)

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h3rmitsunited · 1 year

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A Blanket Bed in the Corner

Summary: A short one-shot of what happened between Dirk and Todd when they went back to Hobbs house between Panto and the House Within a House. If you like a little bit of angsty, touch-starved, slightly traumatized yearning, then you’ll like this probably.

Read on Ao3. Words: 2108

I got to thinking about @clockworkcheetah ‘s post about Todd not being super touchy with Dirk in S2, and this sort of just spat out of my brain, so *throws this out on the floor* here.

They get to Hobbs’ small house late that night. He gives his cat a few scratches, throws a pile of blankets and pillows at the two of them and then wanders off to bed, looking worn out.

Understandable. Getting involved with Dirk’s… stuff does that to you.

So, it’s quiet now.

Todd felt strange leaving Farah behind at the sheriff's station. They’d spent two months straight not being further apart than one of them in a shitty motel bathroom while Farah walks down the hall to grab a vending machine dinner, apart from the last couple days when Todd ran off after a rabbit, or Farah talked to her brother at the boat, or today when she went with Farah and found the weird pink-haired dude that’s locked up at the station now.

He feels her absence like the loss of a limb, having become so innately accustomed to her, the mere presence of her existence a glue on his disintegrating life. It writhes like crawling bugs under his skin, an aching panic that settles into his bones telling him that there is something wrong.

It’s whispering, screaming, clawing at him like, ‘she’s gone, you idiot, Farah's not here and she has to be here and, of course, she's been taken too, and now you're alone, and you're never going to find Dirk or Amanda or anyone, and you're going to die alone, choking on your own lungs because there's nobody here to shove the pills down your throat and, shit, this is what Amanda felt all the time, and fuck, I'm the worst person in the whole world, she deserves to hate me forever-‘

Except Farah is okay. He’d watched her wave him off with a tired smile, an understanding in her eyes, and a not-so-joking joke about how she needed a little girl time.

And Dirk is here.

Dirk is here.

He's here.

Todd looks over at him, biting the insides of his cheeks. He looks exhausted and freaked the hell out, which, once again, understandable, considering he got ‘thrown through a doghouse by a zombie, Todd’, plus almost getting shot with a shot gun and then, the sudden presence of Panto Trost, sword carrying crazy person from Wen-da-fuck-does-this-get-normal; all of this casually adding up to a bunch of shit that Dirk really doesn’t need to deal with barely a day after getting out of Blackwing.

And they hadn’t even talked about that. They… well, they sort of have, but not really. Not in any way that matters, but he doesn’t even know if Dirk would want to talk about it. Todd certainly wouldn’t, but Todd’s also coming off the tail end of about a decade of severe emotional repression and self-hatred that’s left him feeling like he doesn’t deserve to have someone listen to any of his crap because he’s just a worthless shithead who shouldn’t have friends. He’s working on that, though, but habits die hard.

He wants to be there for Dirk though. He said he was his friend, back two months ago before everything went to shit. He hopes that all this didn't change Dirk wanting that from him, unless Blackwing, like, zapped his brain to make him not want to have friends. Dirk barely told him much about what that place was like as a child, but from what he’d said, he wouldn’t put isolation-inducing brain zaps past them.

But maybe this is too much. Maybe Dirk thinks that the fact that Todd and Farah spent two months looking for him was kind of creepy and pathetic and Todd is just way too clingy and needy to keep around and he’s just finding the right way to say fuck off without sounding like too much of an asshole.

Todd realizes vaguely that he could also just be thinking all this because it’s like 2am and he’s exhausted and his body is adjusting to taking cat drugs that make his brain feel a little weird and Dirk being here, and alive, and here, is fucking with his head... like a lot.

He becomes aware that he's been sitting on Hobbs' couch for like fifteen minutes, just staring at the wall, still fully dressed. He's surprised Dirk hadn't said anything, or maybe he had, and Todd wasn't paying attention.

Todd glances over and now, Dirk is lying flat on the pile of blankets and pillows that Hobbs had dragged out. He's on his back, eyes open, looking blankly up at the ceiling. The look on his face, Todd’s not sure what he’d call it, but it’s…

Well, it's a bit concerning.

He’s not going to read into what prompts him to do it, but he's walking across the room before he can register the action in his brain. He sees Dirk's eyes flick towards him, but he doesn't move, only parts his lips slightly to release a heavy breath before darting his eyes back up to the ceiling.

Todd waves a hand at him, leaning over the make-shift bed. Dirk rolls his eyes, landing them back on Todd and frowns, confused.

"Scoot over."

Dirk's look of confusion deepens, and he opens his mouth, hesitating quietly for a moment before snapping it closed again. He presses his lips into a tight line and then moves to the side, watching Todd carefully now.

There’s not really enough room for both of them, not enough room for two normal man friends to lay down normally next to each other. But… well, fuck it. Todd draws in a breath and flops onto the blankets, half of his side hanging off the edge onto the worn carpet, carefully keeping just enough space between their arms so that they aren't touching, but close enough that he can feel the echoes of warmth coming off Dirk's body.

He liked doing this with Farah too. He hopes that she didn’t mind it too much. On the run, it was only the two of them together for two months, neither of them big on touching, especially since Todd got pararibulitis, so they didn’t do more than just lay next to each other (other than that night they got drunk at that restaurant and sloppily made out in the back alley, deliberately not talking about it the next day). Just knowing that she was there, that she was in the same shitty boat that he was, tired and scared and unsure of what was going to smack them in the faces next, not knowing if they’d ever find Dirk or Amanda or any semblance of peace again; it helped.

It made him feel real. Alive. Physically present in the world.

He wonders if Dirk had anything like that, if there was anything he could cling to during his long nights wherever he had been to make him feel like a person again. He doesn't think so, but he’s not really sure he wants the confirmation.

Dirk breathes in sharply through his nose. It's dark, apart from the dim light over the oven in the kitchen. It’s glowing a soft yellow through the narrow archway behind them, trailing over the top of Dirk’s face.

He’d never seen him like this before. Never laid on a bed and looked at him, studied the angle of his nose, the hard line of his jaw, the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the flutter of his eyelashes, the soft parting of his lips.

The urge to touch him surges through his body like a pararibulitis attack. Consuming and electric. Todd bites the insides of his cheeks to try to hold his composure. He’s not sure if he succeeds.

Dirk's lip quivers.

There's a tense, heavy silence that blankets over them, like the world tilting for a second as air is pulled into Dirk’s lungs. He's staring up at the ceiling like it could have the answers to a question Todd knows that he doesn't even know.

"I missed you," Dirk breathes out shakily. It's quiet, barely audible, but in Todd's ears, it's an explosion. It shatters something in his chest, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to piece it back together again, and, god, he doesn't fucking care.

Todd shifts his arm, just the tiniest bit closer. He can feel the tickle of their arm hairs brushing together, sending bolts of lightning over his nerves, but not, like, bad ones. They're good. They're so good.

Todd wonders if Dirk can feel him staring at him. He doesn't mean to, knows that it's a little weird, a bit creepy, but Dirk is here, he’s here, and Todd is so fucking scared of blinking and finding that spot on the blankets suddenly empty. To find out that Dirk had never even been here in the first place. That finding him had been a dream or a hallucination or something else that would break his heart if it wasn’t just this.

"I missed you, too," Todd whispers back. Dirk flinches like he'd forgotten Todd was even there, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard.

The distance between them feels too far, like a wide, endless canyon, impassable and dangerous.

Dirk turns his head slowly, meeting Todd's eyes. His are bright. The soft light from the kitchen makes them shine like stars, and his hair is wild, errant strands sticking out in all different directions. Dirk had been running his hands through it anxiously since Panto showed up, too much restless energy to stay contained. A dark strand hangs loosely over his forehead.

He could reach out, brush it back into place and let his finger stay pressed lightly against Dirk’s skin, trailing it down the side of Dirk's face, smoothing those rough, worried edges. It feels like too much, too soon, too close.

Dirk’s lips turn down, eyes still carefully studying Todd. It seems like he feels the same way, like his connection to the whatever is tattling on Todd’s thoughts, that roiling tension in Todd's body that is screaming at him to get closer, and his eyes flick back to the couch, his expression closing off. He licks his lips and frowns.

"You should get some sleep. I can't imagine having to be on the run from the FBI has been very restful." He speaks softly. Kind and quiet, but Todd can hear the tone of dismissal in the words.

Todd doesn't want Dirk to pull away, not now. Not when he just got him back. He moves to shift forward, but he feels the light press of fingertips against his forearm. Dirk's eyes are piercing into him, sad and tired.

"Todd," he whispers, his voice crackling like he’s moments away from breaking into tears. His eyes dart to the couch again, panicked. "Please."

Dirk presses his lips into a line and looks back at Todd, his expression pleading with him to understand, like he doesn’t know what he needs himself, like he needs Todd to know for him.

Todd’s not good at this though.

He wants so badly to just push forward, to show Dirk that he’s here for him, that he wants to be here for him. Wants to drag him into a hug and touch him and know that this is real, that Dirk is real. And here. And alive.

But he can see in Dirk’s expression that he’s not ready for that. And as much as Todd wants to push, wants to touch, and hold, and never fucking let go… he doesn’t.

It hurts, aching like a bruise, but Todd swallows it down and nods.

Because it's fine. He's fine, and this is fine, and he’s here for Dirk, whatever he needs, because they’re friends and he wants his friend to feel okay. To feel safe.

Todd briefly nudges Dirk’s arm with his own, catching his eyes and giving Dirk a soft smile.

"Good night, Dirk."

Dirk hesitates before returning Todd’s smile with a sad apologetic one of his own. His fingers brush over the back of Todd’s wrist before dropping back onto the blanket.

Todd pushes himself up, the chill of being separated from Dirk creeping into his skin. He drags one of the blankets he’d been lying on up from the ground, tugging it until Dirk shifts and it comes free and then tosses it carefully out across Dirk’s body, turning quickly back to the couch to lay down. It’s enough, he thinks, that he can see Dirk from here. Can see Dirk watching him still, pulling the blanket around his chest tighter, curling onto his side, still facing Todd on the couch.

Todd sighs, letting his eyes close.

"Good night, Todd."

In the morning, the blanket bed is empty.

#dghda #dirk gently #todd brotzman #dirk gently’s holistic detective agency #brotzly #not like explicitly but like my fics will get there eventually if they kept going so…

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limerental · 2 years

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ficletober day 16 - steddie future fic

(but finished late and it's already on ao3 here and it's for a fandom i'm not in for a media i haven't really watched i was possessed ok i'm normal) It's ten years later. Steve's a hospice nurse. Eddie's got the virus. It's kind of weird and sad and strange and inevitable. Or something. And not as sad as it sounds. we interrupt our regular programming for whatever the hell this is. content warning for hospitals and death but no MCD beyond ruminating about it. also, disordered eating, illness, yuckiness, and grossness. explicit blowjobs and glow in the dark condoms. etc

One of Steve Harrington's patients dies on a Wednesday morning.

Which isn't unexpected, given he's a nurse at a hospice facility, you know, they're all bound to croak at some point. His job's about making it a little easier, a little quieter. Not saving anybody or saving the world, just easing the pain. It's not like he's head over heels for the job, but it beats his other options. College flunkee who doesn't dare give his rich asshole father the time of day, no matter what job opportunities making nice with him could buy.

Would rather change catheters and wipe old people's diarrhea his whole life than resort to that.

It's hospice. They don't get better. Sometimes they go home a while and come back, but they all die. Losing patients is a breath of relief. Their suffering finally over. His job– making dying seem easy –complete.

So, its not unexpected when he walks in on Wednesday and reads the night shift's notes. That the Turner kid's probably on his way out.

It's not a surprise at all. The guy's been lingering for a week now, barely conscious. He's an AIDs patient, riding the last wave of compounding infections and failed drug cocktails.

Palliative care is a strange sort of thing, like compassionate neglect. It's not a kindness to pump a failing body full of fluids as their organs shutter out one by one. Fluids restricted, no feeding tube, nothing but pain meds and the hush of the ward. Let them die of dehydration instead of drowning.

What's unexpected is walking into Turner's room and finding Eddie fucking Munson sitting in there with him, gripping Turner's hand.

"Munson?" Steve blurts. It's been years. It's been a damn decade, but the guy looks almost the same. Steve's living and working a few towns over from Hawkins and most anyone who meant anything to him there has moved away anyhow, so he's out of the loop in a way that feels nice but also means he's lost track of a lot of people. It's just weird that Munson's still kicking around here when Steve had pegged him for one of those who'd ditch the whole state the second he could.

His hair's a bit different, more mullet than shag and he's got something of a mustache going, but he looks the damn same. A touch of grey at his temples maybe. A wrinkle at the corners of his mouth.

"Jesus," says Munson, looking at him all bug-eyed. "Is that Steve fucking Harrington? In baby blue scrubs? In a hospice ward? In bumfuck Indiana? With a buzzcut?"

"Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with a candlestick," jokes Steve, and Munson keeps gaping at him. Maybe because he just made a dumb joke at his friend's deathbed.

"Geez, I never thought– you a doctor?"

"Nurse."

"Geez," he says again. "You're a sight for sore eyes. I can be here, can't I? They told me he's… you know."

"Yeah, sometimes it takes a while though," Steve says, but by the looks of things as he flips through the chart, scribbling down vitals, it's any time now.

What happens next is what always happens. Not that everybody's death here is the same, but that every patient he's ever had does it eventually.

Die.

Sometimes in a huddle of family, sometimes alone, but usually quietly, slowly, and suddenly. The dying man breathes and breathes and then doesn't.

None of it takes very long in this case.

Munson is sitting with both hands held over one of the Turner kid's when it happen, watching him die with all the somber sort of silence moments like this demand from anyone. He's sitting there more still than Steve ever remembers him being, but then again, it's been a decade. Maybe his theatrics have mellowed out. Maybe he has some normal, adult job now like. In finances.

Steve looks again at Munson, tattooed up his whole neck and wearing a jacket held together by safety pins.

Ok. Maybe a normal, adult job at a biker bar.

"Were you two close?" Steve asks in the quiet as he turns off the noise of the machines.

"No, he– I didn't know him. But there's this support group I'm in, and one of us tries to be there when– well. It was my turn. Or not my turn, my turn, you know, not like it was his turn but it will be. Someday."

"You–" It's like something big and cumbersome gums up inside his chest.

"Yeah," says Munson, shrugging. "Me."

"Shit, man," says Steve, because he's great with handling the dying and increasingly worse with the living, let alone the living dead.

"Yeah, very sad. Woe is me. You wanna swing by my place after your shift and drink some beer about it?"

And they aren't friends exactly, really never were, but Steve figures it's kinda just polite to accept an invitation from somebody you used to know who just roundabout confessed to being riddled with deadly disease. Or something.

And there's a part of him that remembers being eighteen and studying Eddie Munson like an unsolvable puzzle, thinking about him and his knobby weird wrists and long tangle of hair and the ridge of his Adam's apple and his tar-black eyes, sometimes at times he shouldn't have, at times he really really shouldn't have, and then burying all that and doing nothing about it and then a whole decade passing in a blur.

His teenaged self feels very, very far away, and now he knows intimately what happens to people who don't take that leap and be brave and cling to the shit that matters while they still can.

They die alone. Or with strangers sitting next to them, measuring their last vitals.

"Yeah, sure," says Steve.

Can't hurt, he thinks.

Famous last words.

Munson still lives in Hawkins in the same trailer park, but he's prettied his uncle's old trailer up some, a strangely grandma kitsch aesthetic for a man who has several visible gory skull tattoos, one with curled goat horns stamped high on his throat.

He's got a mosquito plant growing in an old sherbert container and a listing aloe. There's tomatoes and jalapenos in buckets and kitty litter containers. A half dozen bamboo windchimes and dangling bells cluster in the rafters of the old porch, and a painted rocking chair sits beside a six foot cactus, its reaching branches segmented into flat, spineless pads hung with leftover tinsel from Christmas, its pot used as a heaping ashtray.

"This is Henry," says Munson. "He's my roommate."

"The cactus?"

"Yeah, man, he's decent company. "

He pats the plant a bit too hard, and a piece falls off. Without comment, he fishes it off the porch and shoves it into a yogurt cup of dirt sitting beside a dozen others.

"I give these suckers away like candy," he says. "Everybody and their grandma loves a free cactus."

"Sure," says Steve, who is fairly certain even a cactus would die a miserable death in his care if he looked at it wrong.

There's a white plastic chair fallen on its side in the overgrown yard, greyed with mildew spots, and Munson tugs it up from the grip of the grass growing through the spokes of its backrest and plops it down beside the rocker on the porch. He swipes off the spider webs and dirt and gestures with spread arms to the shitty chair, bowing like it's a throne.

It's over the top. It's weirdly familiar. Everything else has marched on, has changed, has aged or whatever, but Munson's the same fucking weirdo he was ten years ago.

"Sit down, buddy, stay a while. Though I can't say I'm the greatest host. Don't get paid until Friday, so it's just cheez whiz keeping me goin' mostly. Hell, half of this place might be held together by cheez whiz."

Steve thinks it's probably a joke, that all he's eating is processed cheese, but he wouldn't be surprised. Munson looks sallow and skinny. Not a lick of muscle on him, and he's wearing a pit-stained wifebeater and little denim shorts. Anywhere his skin's not sickly green with fading tattoos, he's so pale it's almost blinding and purple-veined under his red-rimmed eyes, and Steve's not stupid. He does this for a living, watching people hollow down to nothing and then snuff out, and he can see pretty clearly when someone's one foot in the grave. It's not even the virus that does it usually, it's the compounding trauma of it all, the drugs, the loss, the slow starvation both literal and spiritual.

He doesn't even like Munson much, doesn't know him too well and barely did back then, but it's--it's sad. It's heart-breaking.

He wonders if one of Munson's support group is already lined up to sit beside him at the end.

Steve's looking at him rocking in the rocker beside Henry the six foot cactus, little tinsel pieces blowing cheerily in the breeze, and can't even fucking think about it.

"Sit, Harrington, sit, sit," he insists when the silence stretches, and Steve's still standing on the stairs. "You're giving me the willies just staring at me all puppy-dog eyed. I'm not going to keel over tonight. Sit down! Sit!"

Steve sits. The plastic chair groans ominously.

"You've got a lot of plants," he says for want of something to say.

"This? Naw, this ain't anyhing. You should see what I have growing over the ridge in that cornfield."

He's high right now, Steve notices, hard to tell how wide his pupils are with eyes that dark, but he's got this molasses slurred energy to his movement that is unmistakable. Steve gets drug tested too often at work to smoke much these days, and it feels a little desperate to do alone anyway, like an admission that his life's shit enough to need to get high to escape. He thinks like, what do people do when they hang out anymore? What do people say?

"I like your… bell things," says Steve.

"Ah, they're handmade."

"Cool, cool. How's um… life?"

Munson laughs at him. More like cackles, rocking back and forth in the chair slapping his knees.

"I live in my dead uncle's falling down trailer," he wheezes. "I'm thirty whole years old and work washing dishes and have two bucks to my name. I sell coke to high schoolers out of a van. My best friend is a cactus. I'm dying of the virus one day at a time. You know man, it's peachy. How's your life, then? Successful, I bet, Mr. Bigshot. Fancy medical career. Cute little family. Picket fence."

It's Steve's turn to laugh, feeling the surreality of how off base Munson is.

"Naw man," he says shaking his head. "None of that. Life's just…" He shakes his head some more, runs his hand along his buzzed scalp. It still feels weird to skim his hands along soft peachfuzz. "It's lonely, I guess."

Munson makes a face, watching his hands.

"Why'd you buzz it?" he asks, and Steve grins, knowing he'll get a kick out if it.

"Started going bald."

"No shit!"

"Yeah, no shit."

Not too badly yet, but it had felt a little pathetic, watching his hair thin in the mirror and clinging to it as some kind of. Immutable piece of his identity. Some kind of symbol. What it symbolized, he's got no clue, but it's in the past now, it's over and done.

"Your mullet is really showing me up, Munson," Steve says and gets an eyebrow waggle and a dramatic shake of his hair in return.

"Read it and weep, Baldy."

Munson waves at a neighbor walking her dog, and she waves back cheerily. There's a mockingbird yelling out repeating bird calls from somewhere nearby, a pair of wasps flitting about in the eaves of the trailer, and a big, ugly thunderhead cruising the summer sky. The air smells like ozone and cut grass and the tar cooking in the asphalt, and Steve's realizing he doesn't really know how to talk to someone who's dying but not actively.

Not that it's always a death sentence. The virus.

There's plenty of treatments now, experimental and otherwise. No cure yet but maybe soon. Steve's seen it enough times to know the virus doesn't really discriminate either. It takes gay and straight the same way in the end.

He wonders about Munson. Is he–? But then, it's none of his business really. Still, he remembers being eighteen and thinking he'd like to bite down on the white pudge of Eddie Munson's inner thigh and chew on the taut tendon there like a chicken wing. And yeah, he thinks that's still as messed up as it was then. And he still wants to, probably.

"You heard from the kids lately?" Munson asks. It surprises him.

"Hardly kids anymore," says Steve. "You haven't?"

"Not really," he says, nabbing a Zippo from one of Henry's branches to light a cigarette. "Not in a while."

It surprises him. He figured, out of all of them, Munson had the biggest chance of keeping up with at least some of them. Half because he always acted like he'd stay a kid forever himself. Peter Pan to their lost boys.

"They're OK, I think," he says. "Moved on. It's been a while for me too."

Munson looks at him, and his big eyes are all sad and wet. Or he's just really high.

Steve doesn't know what he's doing here, not really. It feels like a fragment of another life. One where he's Eddie Munson's old buddy, catching up after years apart, and it's a Wednesdsy in July with evening creeping in and he's got most of his shit together and knows what he's doing with his life.

"You want me to go pick us up some food?" Steve asks, clearing his throat, and doesn't ask you been eating, man?

"If you're paying, I'll pick it up."

"You're trashed."

"Driven worse," Munson shrugs, and he's up, keys slinging around his fingers before Steve can protest. "I'll go to Skeeter's down the road. Gimme your wallet."

He makes grabby hands, and Steve, the idiot, slaps his worn wallet into his waiting palm.

"Just as easy as that?" he says, guffawing. "Give the broke, ailing druggie trailer trash your credit card?"

Steve just kinda figures Munson's decent. It's been a while, but he can't have changed too drastically and he seemed decent back then too. Steve thinks of Munson sitting quietly beside a dying stranger this morning and thinks maybe that's not something someone would do if they were a bad person, but hell, he could be wrong.

Maybe stealing someone's credit card when you're flat broke with some very expensive drugs the only thing keeping you alive has nothing to do with being a good or bad person. Maybe Steve's just kind of an idiot.

"Get a lava cake too," he says. "My treat."

"You're a decent guy, Nurse Harrington," says Munson. "Not too bright, but you're decent."

"I could be waiting to rob you blind."

"Oh," he coos like one would at a pig-tailed toddler. He taps with a long finger against Steve's forehead. "Lights are all on but no one's home. Good luck scrounging anything up in there. Like I said. Cheese whiz."

The beat up van squeals away into the settling evening.

The mosquitos have stormed out in force as dusk sets in, Munson's scrawny little plant not quite enough to hold back the hordes, so Steve lets himself into the trailer, hoping maybe because Munson said that stuff about scrounging around that he's not overstepping a boundary.

Munson wasn't lying about the cheese whiz.

Not that it's being used like glue to hold together bits of crumbling infrastructure or caulked along the baseboards or whatever but that a siingular can of the stuff, plus some assorted condiments and a weirdly fuzzy pickle floating in a half empty jar of brine, are the only things in the fridge. Plus, a handful of Budweisers in the door.

The trailer otherwise is atrociously cluttered, a loose spill of eclectic detritus. Dirty laundry and crusty dishes and a whole lot of loose cassette tapes and dog-eared books with wizards and unicorns on the covers. Prayer flags strung across the ceiling and posters slathered on the walls. A privacy bead curtain to the back bedroom. Some illicit drug paraphernalia intermingling with pill bottles.

He picks one up to read the label and recognizes it, then starts picking out all the little bottles from the clutter and setting them together on top of the magazines on the coffee table.

He's got most of the full ones arranged together when Munson busts through the door with a doggy bag.

"If you want some real fun drugs, I've got some in the back," he says. "Those aren't really any good to snort."

"Sorry, sorry," says Steve, pulling his hands away.

"No, you're fine. I do have a system but it's a bit. Chaotic. Probably would make a good little nurse like you cringe."

"Some of these are expired," says Steve. "Are you taking them? What's your viral load?"

"Buy a fella a drink first, golly!" Munson presses his hand to his chest in mock offense. "You don't have to mother hen me. I'm a big boy. I've had this thing for years, and it hasn't got me yet."

"Sorry," Steve says again.

They go back out onto the porch with dinner and some cold beers. Two dozen wings and a thing of large fries. Munson plugs in an electric bug zapper, immediately glowing and crackling with vanquished mosquitoes and moths and craneflies.

Skeeter's is a dive bar, but their wings are still as damn good as Steve remembers. Eating wings is messy as shit, and Munson forgot napkins but drags out some bandanas from some musty drawer in his trailer. After a while, they both get tired of playing polite and wipe their mouths with the back of their hands and gnaw shamelessly on the gristle of spent bones they drop to the weathered porch.

It's full night and it's summer and it doesn't quite feel like real life. Munson lights a cigarette, and the ember of it hovers like a glowing eye in the crook of his fingers, pulsating.

The flickering orange of the streetlight doesn't quite reach onto the shadow of the porch, and Steve looks at Munson leaning in the rocker with his legs sprawled out and thinks about his unrealized boyhood fantasy. Of slumping on his knees between the guy's legs and–

It's not hard to imagine that maybe it's still '86, and Steve's burning up with energy that has nowhere to go, untethered from whoever he used to be with no real way forward. Still pretty sure there is a way forward, a tomorrow, a next chapter where something good happens. Something not awful at least. No more monsters, no more bloodshed, just– a life. Love. Something fulfilling and peaceful enough and–

He slips down off the shitty chair and onto his knees on the porch. It hurts like a punch up through his joints. He's not even thirty, and he's old as shit and not even happy and well-adjusted. He wants to whine about it, scream about it. Munson's thirty, and he might not make thirty-five. He wants to scream. He wants to–

"Munson," he says, because the guy's got his head tipped sideways with the cigarette dangling on his lips, looking at him like he's insane. "Muns– Eddie," he says. "Eddie, is it chill if I– I don't know. I've always wanted to– Can I– you got condoms?"

"Steve," says Eddie and touches his buzzed head with his fingertips like he's checking if he's real. "Steve, did you really just ask if it's chill to suck my dick?"

"Yeah. I guess."

It's weird. It's like a dream. Eddie gets a condom and shimmies his shorts down his bony, weird legs and drops back in the rocking chair. Steve's been sitting there on his heels the whole time he scrounged through his trailer. Like a pet, waiting.

"Are you even gay?" Eddie asks.

"Are you?"

"I've got the virus, Steve-o."

"So? Lots of people do. It's not a gay disease. It's not the act of a vengeful God. There's nothing wrong with being gay. There's nothing wrong with either of us."

He kisses Eddie on the inside of his thigh just past his knee when he says it and the skin is so soft under the firm touch of his lips that he regrets how bad his fresh shave is going to burn.

"That's very sweet, Steve. Real cute. But you're sucking some random guy's dick in a trailer park, and I'm high enough that I'm feeling kinda nervous with Henry watching. There are a few things wrong with us."

"Don't be nervous," Steve says and smooths both palms down his bare legs.

"Sweet as sugar, I'm telling you."

The hair on his legs is fine, barely there, but Eddie's pubic hair is coarse and thick and Steve's not too sure he's showered recently. Which should be gross really, should be a lot of things, but it mostly makes Steve want to pick him up by the scruff of his neck like a kitten and wash him off under the trickle of the kitchen sink.

He hasn't really sucked a dick before, just thought about it a lot and he's watched a few pornos. It seems straight-forward enough. Eddie's penis is right there and not really that hard yet, nestled snug against his balls in coarse hair. He's uncut, a little shine of fluid hanging at the blunt tip pushing beneath the hood of his foreskin, and it seems like it would fit pretty decent against the roof of his mouth. It's cute even. A little tough to see in the faint light, so Steve plants his palms on Eddie's knees and spreads him wider to look.

He bends close enough that Eddie must feel his breath. In his old fantasies, he lapped at him in slow licks like a dog, savoring the taste.

Eddie flicks him in the center of the forehead.

"Condom, you ding-dong."

"Right, yeah, right."

Munson pulls at himself, a harsh, weird tugging in a way that hardens him up fast. Steve skirts his fingers along the back of Eddie's knuckles as he does it. It's fast enough that the condom goes on smooth in no time, and then Steve's fingers curl to take his place. Latex shifts under his grip, dulls the heat but not the weight of it, and Eddie sighs and shifts up and the rocker tips back.

Steve puts his mouth over his covered erection and tastes rubber, mostly. It doesn't fit as nice in his mouth as it would have flaccid, but he rubs the head back and forth against the ridge behind his teeth and a little further. Real careful.

"What's gotten into you anyway? Jesus."

Maybe Munson's sobering up. Steve looks up at him through his lashes, and Eddie swears a colorful string of really made up cursewords and then bites his own fingers to keep quiet.

It's barely 10PM. There's kids living nearby probably. Little old ladies. Or maybe there's worse stuff someone could hear past dark in a neighborhood like this one.

Steve takes Eddie's dick most of the way down his throat.

"You into death, Harrington?" Eddie gasps. "You into like. Dying people. You never looked once at me before. You into finishing the job? Because you are literally killing me right now."

Steve pulls off.

"It's not like that," he says. "I looked at you all the time. Before this. I wanted to do all kinds of stuff."

"Oh," says Eddie. "Like what stuff?"

"Like this."

Steve leans past his stiff dick into the shadow of his gaunt pelvis and presses his mouth against the crook of his thigh. It's as doughy and soft as he imagined, probably fish-belly white too beyond the wiry hair, and Steve opens his mouth and bites. Eddie rocks up, the tendon in his teeth flexing into a taut cord and his cock jumps hard against Steve's cheek.

"Holy Christ, you're a fucking weirdo," Eddie chokes out.

It makes Steve feel a little dizzy, like he's seeing double vision. His decade old fantasy of biting at some vital, thrumming, secret part of wild-eyed, crazy-haired, full of life Eddie Munson blurring with the Eddie who's cast in shadow on a warped porch, pantsless, bare ass on his rocker, sauce-stained wife beater shrugged up his little pudge of a belly, bright yellow condom glowing in the dark.

"I don't know why I wanted to do that so bad," Steve says, muffled as he kisses up Eddie's twitching belly. He twists his fingers around the base of his dick and rubs up and down a few times just to watch Munson arch his back against the chair. "Hey, the condom glows in the dark."

"You just noticed?"

"Looks a little radioactive."

"That's only how it looks in movies."

"You sure?"

"This place is not a place of honor," Eddie gasps, rolling his hips up against Steve's hand.

"Huh?"

"It's… nevermind. You're a weirdo, Steve Harrington. You're a real weirdo."

"Is this what dirty talk for losers is like?"

Eddie skims his buzzed hair with both hands. He holds them there and tugs his head up, looking. The orange streetlight glow catches in his black eyes and hides the dark bags under them, accentuates the groove of wrinkles at the frown of his lips. He's damn pretty. Steve wants to lap him clean and chew on him some more.

"Guys like me are shunned for a reason, you know. I'm worse than a freak now. I'm a ticking time bomb. I could take anyone who gets close enough to love me down with them."

"Oh I love you now?" Steve jokes, and Eddie doesn't laugh. He's sober.

"It's dangerous, Steve. You should stop."

"Are you telling me to stop?"

"No. I'm saying you should want to."

"I don't want to."

He wraps his lips back around Eddie's dick.

With his eyes open, he can blurrily watch the bright yellow glow of the condom dim and brighten as he moves. The light looks sickly against Eddie's soft belly and thighs. Steve thinks danger.

He wants to ask if he knows who gave it to him, but knows that's rude and also not very sexy. They're probably dead now. It's not a very sexy thought at all, but Steve pushes the heel of his hand against the front of his jeans and rocks into it. He's not sure what comes next in his old fantasy. Suckle at Eddie Munson's inner thigh and then– And then, he–

Like all his dreams, they evaporate into thin air before the end. He still doesn't know what he wants to do with his life. He still can't get a handle on what he even likes. Does he like nursing people through the very end of their lives? Is it just a thing he fell into by chance and keeps doing because he doesn't have any clue what else there is?

If he'd been braver ten years ago and actually got to sucking Eddie's dick when his knees still worked perfectly and nobody was sick, what would have happened? Would it have been just once, a quickie, a satisfying good time but that's it, that's that? Would they have have had some gross whirlwind romance, caught up in each other, acting like lovebirds, overflowing, sticky-sweet and disgusting? Would they have been lovers, calling each other baby and sweetheart and pookie, standing against a world that goddamn hated them like nothing else, but all of it a little more tolerable and meaningful together, maybe? Would they have crashed and burned, Steve too indecisive and scattered, Eddie too wild child and unstable and hungry for the whole world, for fame and sex and drugs and all of it boiling up and ending quick and bright and permanent?

None of that would have passed his mind back then. He'd only seen people die blood and messy and sudden, not slow and inevitable with a little breath of relief.

"Steve," sighs Eddie, fingers digging into his scalp like he's trying to grip at his hair. "Steve, Steve, Steve."

Steve hollows his cheeks and tries to make it good for him. He really hopes it's good for him even it never happens again. Not like. For truly morbid reasons, but he supposes that's always possible too. That Eddie just dies. That he conks out and snuffs it.

It sucks. It makes him pull harder with suction at the dick in his mouth, moving his tongue with more determined purpose, laving along the latex-covered condom. He imagines the yellow glow staining his cheeks and tongue and hands. He wants it to. It's silly.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," swears Eddie and bucks his hips and goes taut, riding out the wave of an orgasm. Steve feels it as a warm weight pulsing against the skin of the condom held against his tongue. It's weird not to taste it, feel it. He rubs his palm against his own cock trapped in his jeans, and it only takes a second before he's coming off too. Maybe it's been a while. He leans his forehead against Eddie's bare thigh and gasps his way through it.

Eddie pushes him back and pinches the condom off and ties it, flinging it away somewhere out into the grass. Steve wonders how safe or sanitary that is but doesn't comment. He doesn't think wandering stray dogs or raccoons can get HIV. Probably. It's maybe just as gross as anything else about Eddie's life.

"You good?" Eddie asks and cradles his head in his hand. His dick's gone limp and small and spent against his pale thigh.

"Lava cake," says Steve. His lips feel dry from the latex and the lava cake is still sitting at the bottom of the doggy bag and the porch is covered in scattered chicken bones and Steve's knees hurt something awful.

"It'll be cold. Just a big brownie."

"Still chocolate," he says. "I don't care."

"You're really weird," says Eddie. "If I haven't said it before."

"Life's weird," he says. Eddie Munson's eyes shine.

"Yeah," says Eddie, fishing the bag of lava cake off the porch, still pantsless and sweaty. "Yeah, you're damn right about that.

They eat chocolate cake together with the bugzapper zinging overhead and a dog barking somewhere over the horizon and the streetlight glow haloing their bent heads. They lick chocolate from their fingers and then each other's fingers.

It's July. It's past midnight in a nowhere trailer park in bumfuck Indiana. It's ten years ago and it's the future.

Maybe five years on, Steve's holding Eddie Munson's hand while he finally dies after weeks, months, years of wasting away to nothing.

Or maybe not.

#steddie #i didn't like. intend to write this the image of thigh chewing just gripped me so tight i couldn't... not #i still don't know what stranger things is about #i did enough of a deep dive to get the character voices down #sowwy #also someone was already rude to me on ao3 about this fic it's a new record #i waltz into a fandom late with starbucks and get booed out #i'm not tagging this too intensely either it's embarrassing someone should feel embarrassed for me #my fic #ficletober 2022 #sort of

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joe-england · 2 years

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The Anti-Muse.

That's what I call it. It comes in various forms, whatever takes me away from my work. Negative feelings, obsessive-compulsive distractions, or just mundane obligations.

You ever have one of those Summers when everything needs to be fixed? The stove exploded, we had to sell a car, we're babysitting dogs, the deck needs painting, the gutters had to be repaired, the garage has to be emptied, and the backyard....

We have a pool. And a spa. Which makes it sound like we're rich or something, but we're not. So when a huge branch fell on the pool cover during a winter storm and tore it all up, it was a headache. But then we have to OPEN the pool when the weather turns, because otherwise the whole thing goes to Hell, and it's a chore. Then it springs a leak that lowers the water level by several feet, which is a problem. So then we have to order a water truck after getting someone to repair the lining, which is going to have to be entirely replaced next year, which is a bother. Then the motor dies, so the algae grows, and we have to get a replacement, which is a nuisance. Then the computer which controls the motor has to be replaced, which is a twist of the knife. Then the water level stays low and I gotta fill it intermittently with a hose, which is a hassle. Then I accidentally leave the hose on for too long at a stretch and our well gets drained so we have to avoid flushing the toilets for half a week, which is nasty. Also, the spa somehow sprung a leak too and will also need to be repaired, which is a joke. And we still haven't fixed the pool cover, because the pool company changed management and the people who work there got terrible, terrible illnesses, which is honestly tragic. So now I'm struggling to talk with the pool cover company directly, but of course the thing is so old that no one can figure out when it was ordered and they won't return my messages and it'll be at LEAST another month before we can close this damn water hole for the winter, which is daunting. And then the bills start coming, and that's some brutal money on top of NY State taxes.

I don't even LIKE having a pool. I haven't set foot in it this whole year, but I have to go out and rescue bugs and animals that fall into it constantly. I can flick the spiders and ants and beetles back onto the grass, but salamanders and frogs need to be relocated, so I gotta trudge through the backwoods all the way to a stream to deposit them in a better place, which is awkward since a big damn tree fell on the forest path and I gotta brave the tick-infested marsh to get around it. Yeah, we need to take care of that tree, too. Add it to the list.

Woof.

Hey, don't mind me. I just feel awful about not giving you more content so I'm waving my arms in the air a little, but I'm hyping myself up to start the new comic before the year ends. It still seems kind of impossible, but interim projects are helping me feel capable again. Actually, I already started a comic, but I'm not sure you would approve. It's fan art, which is something I really never do. I hope it's alright with you, I'll show it off when it's closer to done.

I've also been writing the last footnotes of the Omnibus (believe it or not), and I've got a particular passion project for the Halloween season, which I hope you'll enjoy. See, I'm working! I'm not always posting, but I'm working! On one thing or another! You'll see the fruits of my labor soon. If I can just beat the Anti-Muse.

That said, today is a heavy day for a lot of us for far more significant reasons than anything I listed above. I can gripe about housework and art and distractions, but this is the anniversary of something that still affects many people very deeply. If that's you, then I send my best wishes.

As usual, I'll provide a few links if you have the inclination and means to help make things a little better for someone, somewhere.

Thanks for listening.

Everytown for Gun Safety

Top-Rated Charities for Ukraine

The Trevor Project

National Abortion Funds

- Joe

#patreon #rabbit #my art

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rookie-critic · 1 year

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Clerks III (2022, dir. Kevin Smith) - review by Rookie-Critic

Clerks III (dir. Kevin Smith) ends the saga of Dante and Randall in about the most Kevin-Smithiest way possible. After having a heart attack, Randall decides that he's never done anything meaningful with his life and wants to change that by making a movie about his life, which ends up being exactly what it sounds like: they set out to make Clerks. Now, it's not called Clerks in-universe, but you get the idea. The film is packed full of in-jokes and meta-humor and that particular Kevin-Smith brand of camp that works at times and really doesn't work at others. I'll break my feelings about the film down into 3 parts that just happen to coincide with the acts of the film.

Act 1 of the film, leading up to the filming of the movie-within-the-movie and maybe a few scenes after that, is insanely funny. Jay & Silent Bob just absolutely run away with every scene they're in. Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith have had 28 years to really perfect these characters, and perfect them they have. Their comedic chemistry is electric, their comedic timing is uncannily perfect, and their comedic presence in the film is absolute. Cameos from the likes of Amy Sedaris, Ben Affleck, Fred Armisen, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Freddie Prinze, Jr. and more work well and the meta-humor really gives fans of the franchise everything they could ever ask for out of a film like this. People can say what they want about Kevin Smith's narrative writing or even certain aspects of his comedic writing, but the guy knows how to be funny. Even his worst movies (remember that I have unfortunately seen Yoga Hosers) have good comedic moments and Clerks III is no exception.

Act 2, the middle of the film, is, well, middling (I'll talk about my qualms with the film as a whole here as well). I felt like the middle third of the film dragged significantly compared to both the beginning and the end (which we'll get into in a minute). The meta scenes are still there, and the nostalgic punch they pack doesn't lose its potency, but I feel like the film didn't need a lot of the fluff that it had. I didn't necessarily need a reference to every single bit from the first film (although I did appreciate the love given to Clerks II, despite that not being as well accepted by the populace). I could have used a couple more scenes that built up the story of this film and the 15 year gap that exists in-universe between this and Clerks II. I guess my point with this particular tangent is that this film's runtime is 1 hour and 55 minutes and I feel like it could have been an even 90-95 minutes and been better for it. Another thing that kind of bugged me, and I get why they did it this way, it's just a little frustrating, is that in one scene Dante and Randall are reminiscing about their time as clerks at the Quick Stop, and literally everything they mention is something that happened in the original film. Again, I get why they did it that way, but the entirety of the first Clerks film takes place over the course of one day. If Randall is making a film about his life, wouldn't it need to include more than just the events of one day in 1994 when a litany of strange things happened? Also, speaking of Dante and Randall, this movie really required Brian O'Halloran and Jason Anderson to push the limits of their acting abilities, and as much as I love him and the character of Dante, I personally don't think O'Halloran was able to rise to this particular occasion. I also wasn't a huge fan of the Elias character in this film. I feel like his weird awkward acting in Clerks II worked for that film's overall feel, but not really for this one. With that, let's move on to the final act.

Act 3, which I'll be narratively vague about so as to avoid spoilers, is the saving grace of the film. The end of this movie hits you hard with that Kevin Smith sentimentality that I mentioned in my Clerks II review, and goddammit it works on me. A lot of the emotional weight of the last act of the film gets placed on Jason Anderson's shoulders, and where I feel like Brian O'Halloran's performance was lackluster, I feel like Anderson's performance soars. His monologue in one of the film's final scenes is genuinely very emotional, and encapsulates exactly what I love about Kevin Smith's movies (at least the one's I've watched so far). This is a man who genuinely, whole-heartedly, and undyingly loves what he does, loves his body of work, and loves the characters that exist within that work. Seeing Marilyn Ghigliotti back as Veronica, seeing all of the bit players from that original film come back to reprise their roles for the "filmed" bits of Randall's movie, watching the film open on a scene of the duo playing hockey on the roof (with another great cameo from the Comic Book Men crew) while the entirety of "Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance blasted out of the theater speakers over the scene, it all just makes you feel so warm inside. Kevin Smith pours his entire being into these movies and you can tell; it pours out of every frame and, as I mentioned in my review of the second film, it is fucking infectious. Did I cry at the end of the film? Maybe a little. I for sure got choked up, and I can tell that, had I been a lifelong fan of the franchise as I could tell everyone else in the theater with me was, I would have been on the floor sobbing by the time the credits started to roll. So, is the acting good? Largely no, save for a couple of the big players. Do the jokes work? About half of the time, sure. The movie largely is just ok by all accounts, but dammit, I just can't dislike it. I can't bring myself to. I can't even bring myself to down to ok. With all of its many faults, I still unabashedly like Clerks III. Kevin Smith has my support to the end of the line.

Score: 7/10

Currently available to rent or purchase on digital (iTunes, Amazon, Vudu, etc.) and on DVD, Blu-ray, and 4K through Lionsgate Films.

#Clerks III #Clerks #Kevin Smith #Brian O'Halloran #Jeff Anderson #Trevor Fehrman #Jason Mewes #Marilyn Ghigliotti #Rosario Dawson #film review #movie review #2022 films

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Note

Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

#dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #alt!dream #alt!dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken fanfic #dream smut #dream imagine #dream x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut

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jungshookz · 3 years

Text

maybe, she can drive his car; mechanic!yoongi

➺ pairing; mechanic!yoongi x spoiledbrat!y/n

➺ genre; mechanic!yoongiverse!! sfw!! honk honk humour!! some suggestive behaviour because this is mechanic!yoongi and his y/n we're talking about!! the green-eyed monster inside of y/n is awoken after being dormant for so long and she's ready to bite some heads off

➺ wordcount; 11.6k

➺ summary; yoongi's ex is back in town for a visit and you'd be lying if you said you weren't slightly envious of a) how knowledgeable she is about stupid cars and b) how well she gets along with literally everyone.

➺ what to expect; "right, about that- i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before... you understand, don't you?"

➺ currently spinning on the record player; mustang sally (originally by wilson pickett, covered by andrew strong)

(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the original creator of course :-))

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

namjoon usually doesn't pay too much attention to you whenever you're hanging out at the workshop with everyone because of how often you're here, but there's something about the way you're acting today that even he has to admit is oddly very...

cute?

and it's not that you're not cute all the time (because you totally are!!) but it's just that the version of you today in particular is suddenly making him want to go off and find a y/n of his own

"whatcha doing?"

namjoon jolts in surprise when a grimy hand suddenly burrows itself into the warm bag of freshly-popped popcorn that he has cradled to his chest and he scowls before turning his body away slightly

"hey, you're contaminating the popcorn, man-" he huffs, quickly grabbing the mega-sized pack of hand wipes from the desk before plopping it down on the countertop for jungkook, "at least have the decency to wipe your hands before digging into my popcorn- also, i'm watching. duh."

"watching?" jungkook frowns as he sloppily wipes his hands on the front of his shirt, turning to look out the open door, "watching what?"

"yoongi and y/n." namjoon hums, popping a couple of kernels into his mouth with a crunch, "she's been following him around like a little duckling all day."

"mm." jungkook props an elbow up on the counter as he looks towards the two of you before clicking his tongue, "...he must've really given it to her good last night if she's acting like that-"

"okay, now you've ruined the moment-" namjoon frowns, his shoulders dropping slightly before he gestures to you guys, "it's sweet! this is obviously a wholesome thing-"

"call it what you want, but all i'm trying to say is that good sex makes you do crazy things-" jungkook snorts before aggressively shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, "cravy phings."

"i'd like to argue that good sex forms a strong emotional bond which explains why there are cartoon hearts currently floating around y/n's head-" namjoon perks up when he notices the way your eyes light up at something yoongi says, "look at her! look at the way she's looking at him!"

"oh, please." jungkook tuts, "that dopey look on her face is telling me that the only thing on her mind is yoongi bending her over the hood of that car and just ramming-"

"namjoon and jungkook are arguing again." you point out, turning to look towards the office just in time to see namjoon throw a handful of popcorn at jungkook only for him to open his mouth and chomp wildly at the air to get some into his mouth

"jungkook probably said something stupid, as per usual." yoongi snorts, leaning over to lock the hood of the car into place before pulling away and taking a look at the situation, "now, let's see what we have going on here..."

when namjoon told him that this was a brake master cylinder repair he immediately felt all the excitement leave his body

he hates doing brake master cylinder repairs

all the parts are so small and the handiwork is super tedious anD the last time he did one of these he took like four hours to get it done

overall it's a pretty boring repair job and as much as he wants to pass it off to one of the others to do, he knows that he's the most skilled with the internal mechanics of a car compared to everyone else which he usually likes to brag about but today he wishes that that wasn't the case

"so what do you have to do?" you frown, stepping over so that you're standing by the side of the car and you're not in yoongi's way, "all the thingies look fine to me."

"well, i actually need to replace the brake master cylinder thingy." yoongi teases, smiling lightly as he points at some kind of container, "there's a leak in the seals, which is pretty common since they wear out after a few years. it should be an easy fix! it'll just take a while, that's all."

luckily, taehyung already took care of the messy part and emptied the fluid from the reservoir for him so now it's time to start the actual repair process

"so does beeper have one of these cylinders in him?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity

you've never actually taken a look at beeper's under the hood situation before so you wouldn't know

(it feels like he's all naked and exposed whenever yoongi lifts his hood up and you just want to give beeper some privacy, that's all.)

"if beeper didn't have one of these cylinders in him, you wouldn't be able to brake, silly." yoongi snorts, reaching down to unclip the sensor from the reservoir, "see, when you push down on the brake, it pushes a piston through the cylinder and forces hydraulic fluid through the brake lines, which goes to the slave cylinders of each wheel, and then-" he pauses when he notices you've gone all quiet and he turns to see you staring directly at him with a dopey little smile on your face "-what? what'd i say?"

"i like it when you talk shop to me." you giggle quietly, "i mean, i don't understand 98% of the words that come out of your mouth when you do, but i still like it a lot-"

"yeah?" yoongi teases, taking a hand off the edge of the car so he can gesture for you to come closer (and you do, obviously), "you like it when i talk to you about... hm, i don't know..." he feigns cluelessness as he stands up to slink an arm around your waist and bring you towards him while your arms automatically hang loosely around his neck, "how the rubbing of the brake pad against the brake disc generates friction..." he lowers his voice as he sits lightly on the edge of the car and gives your hips a squeeze

"mm, tell me more..." you play along, letting yoongi pull you closer so that you're settled nicely in between his legs

"i don't know, maybe i should save all the good stuff for the bedroom..."

you resist the urge to immediately start whining when you lean in only for yoongi to dodge your kiss, "hey, i like you in these baggy overalls, by the way." he suddenly changes the subject and you feel your cheeks flush when both his hands slide in through the gaps until he's able to grip your bum, "big, big fan of them-"

"you- namjoon and jungkook are right there-" you gawk, "at least have the decency to turn me around so they don't see you fully groping me-"

"they can always just close their eyes or something-"

"okay, you two, break it up-!" you hear namjoon's claps echoing from the office as he tries to get your attention and you immediately turn to look at him with a grin, "god, it's like you sick freaks want to rub it in our faces-"

"okay, i have to get to work so why don't you go and hang out with namjoon in the office?" yoongi stands up, being careful not to hit the top of his head on the hood, "he'll let you play chess on the computer if you ask nicely."

"i thought i was helping you out today!" you frown, grabbing onto his hand before waving it back and forth, "you said i did a good job handing you the tools and stuff. i'm getting better at not mixing all the different types of screwdrivers up!"

yoongi can't help but laugh at how needy you're being and he reaches up with his free hand to adjust his bandana

"i know you wanna help, but i promise you there's nothing exciting about repairing a master cylinder." he hums, reaching up to pinch your cheek playfully, "plus, don't you still have a huge research paper to work on?"

"yeah, but i'd much rather hang out with you..." you pout, yoongi cooing before leaning in to give your pushed-out bottom lip a little kiss

"we can hang out when we're both done with work."

"okay..." you purse your lips before letting go of his hand, "it's your loss. i'm a fantastic helper."

"mhm, you certainly are-" yoongi spins you around before pushing his palm against your lower back to get you to move, "now go and bug namjoon!"

you turn back to glance at yoongi one last time and he sweeps his hands at you to tell you to gO

fine!

it was getting hot in the garage anyway and namjoon always has the aircon blasting in the office

"sorry! only sad, single people are allowed in this area-" namjoon jokes as soon as you step in, gesturing to the office space with a grin, "leave or i'll have security escort you out."

"oh, stop it." you giggle, folding your arms up on the counter and leaning forward, "i keep telling you i'd be more than happy to set you up with one of my friends!!"

"i know, and that's very nice of you to offer, but i just want to find someone organically, you know?" namjoon sighs, leaning back against his chair before looking up at the ceiling wistfully, "being set up with someone doesn't feel like a natural process."

"namjoon thinks he's the main character of a shitty netflix romantic comedy." jungkook mutters, the two of you exchanging low giggles with each other

"well, if no one comes into your life organically you can always let me know and i'll- woah-" you jump in surprise when the sound of a roaring engine suddenly shatters the peaceful atmosphere and you turn around just in time to see a sleek car veering into the shop

you wince and raise a hand to shield your eyes from the bright headlights and you don't get a chance to make the first comment because jungkook beats you to it

(for the record, you were going to talk about how dramatic of an entrance whatever that was)

"oh my god. that is the sexiest car i've ever seen in my entire life." he breathes out, stepping away from the counter so he can stand by the door and get a closer look, "a 1965 mustang. nice."

"fun fact: i was actually thinking about getting a vintage mustang! i wanted an olive green one because i could've named her 'olive' which is super cute-" you nod enthusiastically, looking back and forth between namjoon and jungkook only for them to.,., completely ignore you and continue staring at the glossy mustang sitting out front

"okay, you guys, it's just a car-" you roll your eyes and let out a little snort of disbelief, "this isn't going to change your life or anything-"

a high-heel clad foot steps out of the car and onto the pavement and you immediately recognize the classic red-bottom louboutins

you actually own a pair of them as well but you rarely wear them out because you're always paranoid that you're going to topple over and snap an ankle and that would be completely mortifying

they're six inches tall!!!!

for the record, they look very nice sitting (collecting dust) on your shelf but now you're starting to think that it might be a good idea to wear them out again because this stranger makes it look like walking in them is easy breezy beautiful

"holy shit. is that lisa?" namjoon murmurs, reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "oh, wow. she..."

"i don't remember her looking like that the last time we saw her." jungkook whistles lowly, "hello, miss manoban."

"lisa- who's lisa?" you frown, tilting your head in curiosity as you watch this mysterious lisa toss her oversized sunglasses into the front seat of the car before slamming the door shut

"uh, she's just one of yoongi's exes- she actually used to work here but-" namjoon reaches over the counter so he can nudge you aside gently to get a better look, "when did she get a vintage mustang?!"

lisa leans down to look at herself in the side mirror, smearing some red lipstick over her pillowy bottom lip before rubbing her lips together and nodding satisfactorily

"guess her car-wrapping business really took off." jungkook hums, his eyes glued to the car

she seems to be moving in slow motion as she takes her hair down and shakes her head back and forth, the three of you tilting your heads at the same time as you watch her in awe

"car-wrapping?" you ask curiously, "she must spend a fortune on wrapping paper and giant bows-"

"no, obviously it's not actual wrapping- like-" jungkook huffs and you resist the urge to bop him over the head at how snappy he's being with you when he already knows you're clueless when it comes to this kind of stuff, "okay, you know how you said that if you ever got a g-wagon for yourself one day that you wanted to make it baby blue just like beeper and also matte? lisa could do that for you."

"oh! in that case, it might be nice to get a business card from her or something-" you make a mental note before shaking your head and turning back around to face namjoon, "hey, so, super casual, can we round back to the whole 'yoongi's ex' thing real quickly because i-"

"yoohoo, boys!" lisa whistles, grinning excitedly when she's suddenly joined by everyone outside one by one, "what, no one thought to roll out the red carpet for me?"

"c'mon, namjoon! let's go say hi to lisa and her vintage 'stang!!" jungkook grins, gesturing for namjoon to hurry before he's darting out the door, "lisa, hey!"

"yeah, okay!!" namjoon gets up from his seat so quickly that he sends his chair rolling back and smacking against the file cabinets, "oh, y/n-! if anyone calls, just send them straight to voicemail-"

"but i-" you don't get a chance to say anything before namjoon's brushing past you and dashing out the door as well

you don't know too much about lisa but obviously she's a pretty big deal around here

it'd probably be good for you to go and introduce yourself instead of awkwardly hanging out in the office by yourself

"hello, lisa. it's very nice to meet you. firm handshake." you mutter to yourself as you step out of the office and head towards the bustling group of boys, "hey, lisa! so great to meet you. firm handshake. hi, girlie-! nope, don't like that one-"

"-in town for business so i thought it'd be nice to swing by and visit my boys." you manage to catch the end of lisa's sentences as you join the boys, trying not to make any sudden movements to catch her attention

"you should've texted one of us or something!" namjoon pulls his phone out of his back pocket, "we could've ordered a pizza for lunch-"

you reach over to give the back of yoongi's jumpsuit a little tug just to get his attention and he glances over his shoulder at you before offering you a teasing smile and reaching back to wiggle his fingers against your stomach

you giggle lightly before swatting his hand away and he turns back to look at lisa

"well, i wanted to surprise you guys!" lisa chirps, tucking her clutch underneath her armpit before clapping her hands together, "i see nothing's changed around here... except for..." you feel your heart drop when she suddenly leans over and looks directly at you, "hello! i don't think we've ever met."

"oh, shoot- sorry, i should've introduced you sooner-" yoongi steps aside so that he isn't blocking you, "lisa, this is y/n! y/n, this is lisa." he smiles, gesturing towards lisa, "my girlfriend." he pauses and quickly shakes his head at his little flub-up, "i mean- lisa, this is y/n, my girlfriend-"

"he's definitely gonna pay for that later." jimin mutters, jungkook snickering before nudging at his side to get him to shut up

"it's super nice to meet you, y/n!" lisa doesn't acknowledge yoongi's error and she steps forward to get closer to you

she's practically towering over you but it's really just because of the stilettos

she turns her head to look at the boys and a second of silence goes by before they realize what she's asking of them and they all scatter in different directions

you give yoongi a look that basically screams S.O.S. and you resist the urge to burst into tears when he gives you a cheery thumbs up in return and trots off to go and do something else

okay

you'll be fine

you have nothing to be nervous about!

this is just yoongi's very hot ex who looks like a million bucks while you'e currently dressed like a giant toddler

it doesn't help that you're wearing what's commonly known as a 'baby tee' under these overalls

"you- yeah, you too-" you chuckle uneasily, giving her a weak handshake before pulling away with a smile, "i'm sorry, i'm a little underdressed-" you pause to gesture to the grubby overalls you have on, "i promise i look better than this most of the time..."

"oh, don't be silly. i just grabbed the first outfit i saw out of my suitcase and threw it on-" she sighs, reaching up to pick some lint off her blazer that you're pretty sure you saw in the most recent YSL spring catalog (in fact, you're pretty sure it's on your to-buy list), "so, what do you do?"

"me? i- uh, well, nothing, at the moment- i'm still studying for my undergraduate degree, so..." you shrug sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

for some reason you can't seem to maintain eye contact with her for more than three seconds at a time

"oh! you're still in school?"

"yeah, i- well, i'm graduating this year, so i'm almost out of school if you think about it that way- but yes. yes, i... am currently a university student, so that's what i'm doing."

"mm, cute! what are you studying?"

"history! i'm a history major and a marine biology minor." you nod, "so... the cold war and... like, sharks. something like that."

"ah, very cool."

to be honest you're not entirely sure if lisa's being sincere or not but you'll take the compliment either way

you can tell she's trying to scope you out - which is fair, because this is the first time you two are meeting and you're currently involved with someone she used to be involved with

"i'm sorry. i'm probably, like, freaking you out right now, aren't i?" lisa snorts, reaching out and placing her hand on your forearm for a split second, "i promise i'm just genuinely curious and i'm not trying to, like, interrogate you or anything. it's super nice to meet you! and honestly- i love the overalls. the little knee patches are adorable."

"oh, thank you..." you smile nervously, reaching down to glance at the mismatched patches of fabric sewn onto the knees of your overalls, "yoongi actually sewed 'em on for me! i usually wear this whenever i'm here because i'm okay with getting it dirty- i, um, i like your blazer! and your heels. and your purse- a chanel clutch is a classic!"

"ooh, someone has an eye for fashion..." lisa winks, raising her clutch and waving it slightly, "maybe after i'm done talking business with yoongi we can talk about gucci's new multicolour line-"

"oh, i have so many thoughts on gucci's new multicolour line!" you gasp, suddenly reignited with a spurt of energy, "honestly the colour scheme is very stabilo highlighters to me but we can talk about it later- i'll just be hanging out in the office, so you can find me there whenever you're ready-"

"perfect!" lisa gives you a thumbs up before pointing over to where yoongi is, "if you'll excuse me, i have to go and talk about boring things with yoongi-"

"mhm!" you watch with a smile as lisa click-clacks off towards yoongi before you spin around on your heels, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for how well you handled that interaction

lisa's actually nicer than you thought she'd be!

obviously the saying don't judge a book by its cover is very applicable here

"so... what'd you think of lisa?" namjoon joins your side before nudging you gently, "she's nice, right?"

"i like her! she seems really cool." you nod enthusiastically, pausing to glance over your shoulder to look at her from behind, "i need to ask her for tips on walking in those louboutins and how not to fall over."

"you know, i must say i'm pleasantly surprised at how you're handling this." namjoon snorts, holding back for a second to let you into the office first before he steps in behind you, "colour me impressed!"

"thank you!" you reach over to pull the lollipop jar towards you before suddenly pausing and looking back over at namjoon with a frown, "hold on a sec, what's that supposed to mean?"

"hm? oh, it's nothing." namjoon scrunches his nose, dismissing you with a flick of his wrist as he takes his seat behind the counter, "i just know that if i was in your shoes and my significant other's very attractive and very successful ex came back i would be a little antsy about it-" namjoon glances up from the computer and his eyes widen in panic when he notices that your eyes have widened in panic, "i- i mean- not that you're not very attractive and very successful- what i'm trying to say is that you have nothing to worry- you and yoongi seem like a very stable couple so-"

"do you think maybe you could tell me a bit about yoongi and lisa?" you interrupt his spiral and you feel yourself starting to get a little fidgety, "because i- i actually don't know anything about that situation-"

namjoon has a point, now that you think about it

lisa is very successful and very attractive and can walk in high heels very elegantly

and what about you?

yesterday you submitted a paper one minute before the deadline because of how much procrastinating you had done

and you haven't worn heels in forever because they just hurt so much

but lisa wouldn't complain about her feet hurting in high heels

lisa could have a hundred blisters and still walk into the room with a beautiful, red-lipped smile

"has he never told you about her?" namjoon frowns, "i feel like every couple should at least have one conversation about their past relationships."

"i think he tried to one time, but i- i dunno, you can't blame me for not wanting to sit there and listen to yoongi talking about all the girls he's been with, so i just changed the subject..." you mutter, pushing the jar away from you after pulling a strawberry lollipop out, "kind of regretting that decision now."

it's not like you have a reason to be insecure or anything, right?

your relationship with yoongi is very solid and there are certainly no trust issues or communication issues or anything of the sort

...

but he is your first boyfriend...,., and this is your first serious relationship which means you've had no prior experiences to learn from which means you're just going with the flow most of the time.,., so is it possible that you're being a little naïve right now?

"still, i don't think me telling you all the details of their relationship is a good idea because i feel like this is a conversation you should be having with yoongi-" namjoon chuckles nervously, leaning back against his chair before tucking a pencil behind his ear, "sorry, kiddo. i'm not trying to stir the pot here."

"i- oh, c'mon, joon- what's it gonna take, huh?" you reach into the front pocket of your overalls before subtly flashing a folded up hundred dollar bill, pursing your lips slightly as your eyes flicker back and forth between namjoon and your chest-money, "hm??"

"first of all, it's very concerning to me that you stash loose cash in your pocket like that. second of all, are you really trying to bribe me into telling you about yoongi and lisa?" namjoon asks incredulously

"what?! no!" you scoff, tucking the bill back into your pocket before pausing and raising an eyebrow, "...is it working?"

"no! in fact, i find it offensive that you think i'd be so easily swayed-"

"the next time i bring sushi for lunch, i'll get you your own mango shrimp tempura roll." you offer, namjoon staring at you blankly before he suddenly springs into action

"so, they used to sleep together, obviously." he clears his throat, "when lisa started working here, i kind of expected her to get involved with one of us and unsurprisingly it was yoongi, because... well, it's yoongi- i'm pretty sure it was a friends with benefits kind of thing because i remember asking him about it and he said they didn't want to put a label on it? and then at one point jimin asked lisa about it because all of us were super curious and she called it a 'situationship'... which, personally, i think is a pretty cheesy label- i dunno, they'd go out to dinners sometimes and occasionally they'd come into work together in the morning because- well, you know- uh, they were in this 'situationship' for... maybe, like, eight months? and then lisa got an opportunity to work elsewhere and she took it and they decided to call it off and fast forward to now... here we are!" namjoon claps his hands together before pressing his palm over his heart, "and i promise you that's all the information i have- well, maybe this piece of information might be useful to you: they were, like, super horny for each other all the time. like, almost outrageously horny, which i think is one of the downfalls of the relationship because you can't base a solid relationship off of animalistic sex, right? ooh, there was one time i caught them in yoongi's office and lisa was-"

"okay, i think that's enough-!" you hold a hand out to shut namjoon up and he shrugs before leaning back against his chair, "more than enough, actually-"

you weren't expecting to learn about the raw, animalistic sex yoongi had with lisa, but then again, you weren't expecting to even meet lisa at all

oh, god

should you be nervous??

you shouldn't be nervous, right??

...yeah, you're being ridiculous!

yoongi has been with other girls before and that shouldn't bother you because you didn't exist then

this has nothing to do with you!

so what if he bent her over the office table and-

okay, maybe it's time to stop thinking about this because the point is: you're fine. don't worry. everything is normal. yoongi is your boyfriend. lisa is his ex. everything is great!

"by the way, i want you to know that you honestly have nothing to worry about." namjoon suddenly chimes in as if he can read your mind, "lisa was yoongi's past but you are his present and most likely his future as well, so- seriously, don't even worry about it."

"yeah, you're right. it'd be silly of me to be upset about yoongi being with someone else when i wasn't even in the picture yet." you snort, reaching up to smack your own forehead gently, "okay! i'm feeling a little better. it would've been nice to not be informed about how horny they were for each other, but thank you for that detail-"

"yo, where are the snap ring pliers from my toolbox?" you turn just in time to see yoongi pop his head in, "i can't find them anywhere... i swear to god, everyone keeps borrowing my tools and 'forgetting' to put them back-" he rolls his eyes before looking over at you with a smile, "hi, baby-"

"hi yoongi-" you giggle, all your doubts and insecurities immediately fluttering away

see? nothing to worry about!

phEw

it feels like a weight's been lifted off your shoulders

"i think hoseok might've been using them earlier this morning." namjoon hums, "what do you need them for?"

"oh, lisa offered to help me out with the master cylinder repair and she needs 'em." yoongi points back over his shoulder, "you know how great she is with her hands-"

"woah, i thought-" your voice cracks slightly and you clear your throat, "i thought, uh- you were working on it yourself? like, i thought you didn't need any help and that's why i'm in here-"

"oh, i don't, but- well, lisa's good with fine-tuning so i might as well take advantage of her expertise while she's here." yoongi snorts before looking back over at namjoon, "you said hoseok had them?"

"yep!"

you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from commenting any further

it's fine!

as we've already established, you have nothing to worry about.

...right?

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

"and... voilà!" you smile satisfactorily to yourself after you set the scented candle down on the coffee table

the living room is going to smell like warm brown sugar and cinnamon in a few minutes and you can't wait

this is yoongi's favourite candle so you hope he'll be excited about that when he gets here :'))

you've been preparing the apartment for his arrival and lighting the candle was one of the last things on your to-do list

you still have to order dinner for tonight and you've always been awful at making decisions so you figured it'd be best to let yoongi choose instead

you haven't seen him for about a week and a half because of finals (and, being perfectly honest, you were the one who implemented this distancing rule in the first place because you know you won't be able to focus on studying when yoongi's in the apartment with you) so you're pretty pumped for tonight!!

you hum to yourself as you click on yoongi's phone number in your contacts, flopping back on the couch with a fwump! while your legs swing lazily over the arm

"hello?"

the phone picks up after a couple of rings and it takes you a second to realize that the voice on the other end certainly does not belong to your boyfriend

"he-" you pause, pulling your phone away from your ear and frowning at the unfamiliar voice before bringing it back, "um, hello?"

"hi! who's this?"

"who's this?" you point to yourself before scoffing lightly, "what do you mean who- who's this?"

"oh- oh, y/n! hey, it's lisa!" lisa greets enthusiastically and you relax a little knowing that it's just lisa, "sorry, i didn't look at the contact name before picking up- what's up?"

"well, i-" you pause again to recollect your thoughts, "um, sorry, i guess i was just expecting yoongi to pick up his own phone so i'm a little lost right now-"

"oh my gosh, don't even worry about it! yoongi's hands are super gross right now so i offered to take his call for him which is why i picked up the phone. is there something you wanted me to pass along to him?"

"yeah, you could pass his phone right along to him-" you joke before reminding yourself to keep the unnecessary cattiness to a minimum, "yeah, um- can you ask him what time he's coming over? so that i know what time to order our food and stuff? i want the food to still be nice and hot by the time he gets here, so i just need a time from him, that's all-"

"yeah, about that... i actually don't think yoongi's going to make it for dinner."

"i-" you frown, pushing yourself up so that you're leaning back against an elbow, "what? why not?"

"the thing is, i hooked him up with a bunch of clients so the poor thing's been working like a dog all day and it looks like he's going to be stuck here for a while... if you're worried about him skipping dinner, i can totally go and get some food for him if you want! there's this sandwich place a block away and i know what he likes-"

your eyes widen slightly at how... happy? lisa sounds about the fact that yoongi potentially won't be joining you for dinner and you nod to yourself as you clench your jaw

"that's- that's very kind of you, lisa-" your voice is a little pitchier than usual at this point and you clear your throat obnoxiously, "i'm sorry, i just really have to talk to yoongi for a second so if you could just, like, hold the phone up to his ear that would be okay too-"

"okay! gimme a sec." there's a bit of shuffling on the other end and you press your lips together as you wait (im)patiently, "yoongs! it's y/n... dinner... hot food... her place... clients... pretty busy tonight..."

and she even has a nickname for him

that's just downright adorable, isn't it?

"god, just give him the damn phone." you mutter under your breath, raising your other hand to inspect your cuticles as you lie back down on the couch

you should probably schedule another manicure soon

"-it's okay, i can hold the phone myself- y/n?" you perk up when you hear yoongi on the other end and you can't help but kick your legs in excitement

you can't help it!!!

you haven't heard his voice in a whole week and a half!!!

"greetings, yoongs." you tease, "what time are you going to be here?" you bypass lisa's whole monologue about yoongi probably not being able to come over tonight in hopes that she'll be wrong about him ditching you to continue working, "i wanna order the food so it'll get here a little before you arrive. also, i haven't chosen what we're going to eat tonight so you're going to have to choose for us-"

"right, about that-" yoongi clears his throat, "i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before..." he pauses and you hear the sound of loud clanging in the background, "you understand, don't you?"

it takes you a couple of seconds to process the fact that yoongi really won't be coming over tonight and you puff your cheeks out to keep yourself from immediately whining in protest

to say the least, you are.,.,,. very disappointed,.., but!! it won't be the end of the world, right?

you hate that lisa was right, but that's a conversation you can have with yourself another time

and if yoongi won't be here, that means you can hog all the garlic cheesy bread to yourself so maybe this is a blessing in disguise >:-)

"no, yeah, i- yeah, get it!" you nod, "i love that business is booming, i just don't love that you didn't text me or call me earlier to let me know you weren't going to come over tonight," you frown, turning your head to look at the flickering candle, "a heads up would've been nice, that's all..."

"i asked lisa to text you earlier when my hands were full... sorry, she must've forgot..."

"oh. yeah, i guess it could've slipped her mind." you respond dryly, "it would've taken, like, five seconds to text me-"

"okay, i-" you hear yoongi let out a small sigh before he speaks up again, "i'm sorry, baby, i really am- do you- i can come over now if you want me t-"

"no, it's okay! i'm sorry, i'm just-" you shake your head quickly before chuckling uneasily, "i just haven't seen you in a while so i miss you, that's all- but i'll let you get back to work now and i'll see you later?"

"yes! you are the best, you really are- look, i promise i'll be all yours as soon as i-"

"yoongi! these tires aren't going to change themselves, silly-"

"oh, c'mon-" you grumble, your teeth grinding slightly at the interruption of lisa's peppy voice in the background

"uh- yeah, in a sec-! i gotta go, doll- i'll call you later-"

"okay, b-" you don't get a chance to even say goodbye before the line goes dead and the only thing you can hear is an obnoxious beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep- "-ye."

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

one of your goals for the new year was to try your best to not hold a grudge

admittedly, holding grudges is one of your specialties so it's been a little bit difficult but you think you've been doing an okay job so far!

like that time jungkook accidentally drowned you with dirty car water because he didn't see you and also he had headphones on so he couldn't hear you

you were ready to strangle him right then and there but you just took a deep breath and reminded yourself that *~deep-cleaning services exist~*

and sure, you were a little upset that yoongi couldn't make it for dinner the other night and that the two of you haven't really had a chance to have a moment alone because of how swamped he's been with work, but... well, the past is in the past and challenges like this are good for your personal growth!

plus, it's the start of a new week so you're just going to focus on the present

you try your best to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible as you approach a preoccupied yoongi from behind

he's currently sorting out all the things to do on his giant whiteboard (you bought this for the boys because you thought it'd be a good way to organize all their tasks and unsurprisingly, namjoon was the most excited about it)

"guess who?" you hold your hands over yoongi's eyes with a giddy smile and he immediately spins around to face you

"hey, what are you doing here?" yoongi asks, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before pulling away to check the time on his watch, "aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

"my history seminar was cancelled because my professor had some kind of an emergency so i thought i'd come and have lunch with you guys!" you hum, reaching over to fix the thin silver chain hanging around yoongi's neck, "i was going to pick the food up before coming here but i didn't want to just choose for everyone so i thought it'd be better to get everyone's orders first-"

"oh, you don't have to do that, baby-" yoongi shakes his head, capping the marker and dropping it back into the wire holder, "lisa actually offered to treat us to lunch- apparently there's some bagel place that has, like, a hundred different fillings-"

"lisa's here?" you interrupt, suddenly straightening your back before looking around quickly, "i... was not aware that lisa was... still here! i thought she was only here for a little while-"

"mm, she ended up extending her stay! one of her clients pushed their appointment to thursday so she came over to help out for the day."

"oh, cool." you nod, pressing your lips together as you take a second to sort through your thoughts

your nose scrunches slightly as you weigh the pros and cons of saying what you're about to say to yoongi

...

it won't kill you to ask, right?

"hey, i don't wanna, um-" you pause, "you know, i don't wanna... be that girlfriend, but... do you think that there's a slight possibility that lisa might still have feelings for you?"

a moment of silence goes by before yoongi practically barks out a laugh of disbelief

"what? lisa? no, no- that- no, don't be ridiculous." he snorts, shaking his head before turning back around to face the whiteboard, "lisa most certainly does not still have feelings for me- and, by the way, she was the one who broke things off with me, so if anything, i should be the one who still has feelings for-" he stops himself midway and presses his lips together before turning to glance at you over his shoulder, "you know, i'm hearing the words coming out of my mouth and i... am going to shut up now."

"mm, good choice." you raise a brow before shrugging, "alright, well, i just- you know, it's a possibility but if you say that lisa doesn't still have feelings for you, then i believe you-"

"alright, boys! it's chow time!"

you turn your head to see lisa waltzing into the shop carrying two large paper bags and the rest of the boys immediately rush over to her like moths to a flame

she brought bagels for lunch?

you're not trying to be biased or anything sandwiches are easier to eat, in your personal opinion

you basically have to unhinge your jaw to get a good bite of a bagel

"y/n!" lisa looks more than surprised at your presence when you and yoongi walk over the join the group, "i wasn't aware you were going to be here today- yoongi told me that you had class so i-" she pauses to set the bags down on the table, "oh my goodness, i am so sorry but i really didn't know you'd be joining us for lunch... yoongi, you could've texted me or something-"

"she just got here!" yoongi shrugs as he takes a seat at the table, "don't pin this on me-"

"ah, i probably look like such a jerk right now..." lisa winces, scratching the back of her head before reaching down to grab a bagel out of one of the paper bags, "here! you can take my bagel-"

"no, no, it's alright!" you hold your hands out before shaking them, "don't be silly, you don't have to do that- it's very nice of you to offer but i- it's alright, you go ahead and enjoy yourself!"

"oh, stop- take the bagel, y/n." lisa scoffs playfully, practically shoving the bagel into your arms before rummaging through the bags again, "i'll just share a bagel with yoongi! you don't mind, right, yoongs?"

"yeah, i had a snack earlier so i'm not, like, starving or anything-" yoongi nods, "what kind of filling is it?"

"this one is..." lisa pauses to look at the sticker on the top, "smoked salmon and dill cream cheese with capers."

"yoongi doesn't like capers." you chime in, suddenly feeling the need to prove to everyone that you know your boyfriend very well, "i remember they were sprinkled in a salad one time and he said they were too salty-"

"eh, i'll survive. i can always just pick 'em out." yoongi shrugs nonchalantly and you can't help but purse your lips in mild frustration at his response

"'atta boy! luckily, they're already sliced in half otherwise we'd have to take turns taking bites which would be weird-"

"agreed." you mutter, peeling the label off your bagel and sticking it onto the side instead

"oh, lisa! i was wondering if maybe you could help me out with some custom headlights i'm working on?" hoseok perks up, "i'm having some trouble getting the halo lights to work and i need your magic hands-"

"mhm! i can definitely check them out after lunch-" lisa grins, taking a seat next to yoongi, "anyone need a napkin?"

"yes, please!"

"i need one too-"

"pass one over here-"

you know it's silly of you to be feeling jealous over this because god knows the only thing you know about cars is that key go in and car go vroom so obviously the boys would never ask you to help them out with anything like how they're asking lisa to help out

and you're trying very hard to noT throw a self-pity party but it's getting harder and harder to not to that

(and it certainly doesn't help that there aren't any more seats left at the table)

you just can't help but feel so!!!!! inferior!!!!! compared to lisa

she's so cool and pretty and witty and obviously very knowledgable about cars

and what are you bringing to the table??

ham and cheese sandwiches??? fancy sushi rolls????

obviously not anymore because they've been replaced by these stupid bagels

this is the first time you haven't been able to throw money at a problem and you're not,.., sure.,., how you feel about it,..,

"i, uh, have to work on a paper, so i think i'm going to go and eat this in the office if anyone wants to come with?" you clear your throat quietly as you start to back away from the table slowly, "...or i can just go fuck myself, which is fine too."

you're not entirely surprised when your comment isn't acknowledged by anyone and you nod to yourself before swiftly turning on your heel and trying your best not to storm towards the office

you force your fists to uncurl and your shoulders to relax slightly but you can't help but make a face when you hear the boys laughing obnoxiously at one of lisa's jokes

of course she has to be funny as well

because the woman literally has zero flaws

you've been trying to find a reason to hate her and so far you haven't found anything negative to say

hating someone for having perfectly styled hair is a little odd

the legs of the chair screech against the floor as you pull it out and plop down

whatever

you like eating alone anyway

you unwrap the parchment paper and pick up the bagel before taking an overly aggressive bite of it, your cheeks practically bursting from how much food is currently in your mouth

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you chew, tossing the bagel back onto the wrapper with a thunk!

...

damnit!

this is the best goddamn bagel you've ever had in your entire life!!

"phtupid phriggin' bavhel." you grumble, reaching up to wipe the sauce off the corner of your mouth before swallowing roughly, "even the mayo is delicious! god, what is this? some kind of garlic mayo-"

"oh my god. i think she's finally lost it." you jolt upon hearing jungkook's voice and you turn to see him and jimin standing at the door

"what's your problem?" jimin asks, the two of them walking over to join you at your sad, lonely table

"what? nothing. i don't have a problem." you shake your head stubbornly, "i just- i just wanted to be alone, that doesn't mean something's wrong-"

"is that why you're in here basically yelling at a bagel?" jungkook points out as he pulls out a chair and sits on your right

"i'm- i'm just stressed about- my paper. or whatever. it's whatever, i'm fine-"

"you can talk to us, you know." you frown when jungkook suddenly reaches over and in an uncharacteristic move, places both hands over yours

"is it about lisa?" jimin asks, crinkling his nose as he sits down as well, "it's about lisa, isn't it?"

"no, it's not-" you press your lips together before letting out a light laugh, "you know, i don't even have a reason to be upset about lisa, right? she's super cool and very nice and knows a lot about cars and is yoongi's age and namjoon blessed me with the knowledge that she, apparently, was a very passionate lover- so i have nothing to be upset about!" you snap, slapping your palm down on the table before wincing and cradling your hand to your chest, "...everything is fine."

"i have to say, i really don't think jealousy is a good look on you." jungkook clicks his tongue before glancing down at your feet, "i also don't know if those shoes are a good look on you- jeez, it's like the people at gucci are just pulling design elements out of a hat-"

"you are not making me feel any better, jungkook- these shoes are new!"

"ooh, you should make him jealous!" jungkook suddenly lights up and the fluorescent light hanging above you guys flickers for a second

"we're going to have to round back to my shoes later because i really don't think they're that bad-"

"you should make him jealous and give him a taste of his own medicine..." jungkook trails off, ignoring your previous comments once again, "it's what you deserve."

"i'm not- i'm not doing that." you chuckle uneasily, "are you serious? this isn't high school and getting him back would just be petty of me-"

"but it'd feel so nice to be petty, don't you think?" jungkook encourages, scooting a little closer to you with a devilish grin, "think about it, y/n. don't you wanna see yoongi get all hot and possessive over you-"

"i don't think it's a good idea." jimin chimes in, shaking his head quickly as he moves in closer as well, "because if yoongi finds out you orchestrated something just to get him back, that might create an issue of trust in the relationship, and that would be very, very bad-"

"oh, but it feels so good to be bad..." jungkook coos, poking your arm with his pointer finger, "so, so good..."

"uh, i don't think so! i'd like to argue that it feels bad to be bad-"

"don't listen to jimin, he's a wuss-"

"don't listen to jungkook, he's an idiot-!"

"okay, cut it out!" you snap, shoving your hands into both their chests to keep them from coming any closer, "i... must admit, i do want to do something to piss yoongi off because of how much he's pissed me off, but... i'm not like that, you know? and i don't want to come off as some crazy girlfriend because-" you pause when you notice jungkook's finger creeping closer and closer to your bagel and you immediately deflate as soon as you realize what's going on here, "oh my god. you guys only came in here because you wanted to try my bagel, didn't you?"

jungkook and jimin exchange knowing glances before looking up at you sheepishly

"yeah, that makes more sense-" you snort, rolling your eyes before pushing the bagel away from you, "have at it, you animals."

you lean back against your chair, stroking your chin in thought as the sound of jungkook and jimin bickering over who gets the bigger half of the bagel starts to fade out

to be petty or not to be petty, that is the question...

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

(spoiler alert: the answer to the previous question is to be petty. very, very petty.) »»————- 🛠️ ————-««

"namjoon! where did you put my keys??" yoongi calls out, yanking open another drawer to rifle through its contents, "i'm supposed to pick y/n up from campus and i can't find them anywhere... i don't want her to just stand there waiting for me..."

"looking for these?"

yoongi looks up to see lisa standing by the door with his keys in her hand before she tosses them to him

"yes! you're a lifesaver, thanks-" he catches them with one hand before stepping out from behind the counter, "i thought you were leaving today? we already said goodbye to you this morning-"

"yeah, i know-" lisa chuckles as she steps into the office, "it's just that... well, i was going to just leave but i actually had something i needed to talk to you about before i left. i felt it wouldn't be fair to either one of us if i didn't say anything."

"mm. what's up?" yoongi hums, sticking his hand into the lollipop jar to pull a cherry flavoured one out

he pulls another one out before tucking it into his pocket (one for you when he picks you up!)

"well, i guess i should just go ahead and say it- just gotta rip the bandaid off-" lisa straightens her blazer before clearing her throat, "yes."

"...yes?" yoongi frowns, unwrapping his lollipop before popping it into his mouth and scrunching up the wrapper, "i'm not following. yes to what?"

"oh, don't play dumb-" lisa snorts, flicking her wrist at him, "yes, as in: i would love to rekindle our friends with benefits situationship-"

"woah, what?!" yoongi immediately chokes and he yanks the lollipop out of his mouth before patting his chest roughly, "what are you- what the hell are you talking about??"

"what do you mean what the hell am i talking about??" lisa stares at him incredulously before shaking her head, "you're the one who's been giving me secret signals all week-"

"signals-" yoongi's gawks, "what signals??"

"you know, like, how you cancelled dinner plans with her so you could be with me..." lisa croons, taking a step closer towards him

"i cancelled dinner plans with y/n so i could be with twenty cars-" yoongi inches to the side so he can make a quick getaway to run behind the counter in case lisa pounces, "which, i'm realizing doesn't make me sound like the best boyfriend but- i most certainly didn't cancel just to spend private time with you, no offence-"

"what about when we shared a bagel and you didn't complain about the capers??" lisa snaps, lunging towards yoongi only for him to quickly spin out of the way and hurry to get behind the counter

"uh, we shared a bagel because i wasn't hungry for a full bagel and i thought you weren't either, and also-" yoongi grabs namjoon's wheely chair as a makeshift barrier between him and lisa, "i'm a grown man, i'm not going to throw a fit over some friggin' capers-"

"how about when i squeezed your arm and asked you if you'd been working out and you totally flexed your arm for me??" lisa grabs the arms of the chair before yanking and aggressively rolling it behind her, yoongi's eyes widening in panic at the sudden empty space in between the two of them

"i flexed it to prove to you that i have indeed been working out-!" yoongi hops up onto the counter as soon as lisa darts towards him and he hurries to jump off so he's on the other side of it, knocking the phone and namjoon's pen holder down onto the ground in the process, "friends can ask each other if they've been hitting the gym!! i squeeze namjoon's arms all the time because his biceps are literally boulders-"

"i just feel like we have unfinished business, you know?" lisa whines, pausing for a second before bringing a hand up to bite down on the tip of her pointer finger teasingly, "plus, you have to admit that our sex was super hot-"

"are you- hello, i'm dating y/n!" yoongi gasps, "our business is finished! we have no more- we're out of business, lisa!"

"oh, c'mon." lisa raises a brow, clearly unimpressed with his reaction, "it's not going to hurt anyone to keep me as your sexy little secret- it's perfect! i only come into town, like, once or twice a year, so she won't even suspect anythi-"

"what are you- are you insane?! i'm not going to cheat on y/n-" yoongi chokes before raising his hands in defence, "lisa, you're a very beautiful woman and we do have a history, but- look, i'm sorry if i sent you mixed signals this week, that was certainly not my intention- please understand that i am very much not trying to cheat on someone who i love very much and who i'm pretty sure loves me back, so-"

"then who's that person she's so obviously flirting with right now?" lisa points over his shoulder, "also, she's barely visited you this week. what kind of girlfriend doesn't want to always be with her boyfriend??"

"first of all, space can be healthy, and second of all, she- hold on, you said flirting?" yoongi turns to look over his shoulder and out the door, tilting his head slightly when he sees you standing at the front of the garage laughing with... someone he certainly doesn't recognize...

"you can leave all of this behind and come and work for me, yoongi-" yoongi jumps when he suddenly feels hands grasping at the collar of his jumpsuit and he turns back to see lisa standing right in front of him (how did she move so quickly and quietly?!), "we can be happy together, i swear-"

"yeah, cool, just give me a second-" yoongi gently yanks lisa's hands off of him before hurrying out of the office and making a beeline right for you and this mysterious stranger

"oop- okay, he's coming this way-" baekhyun mutters, glancing over your shoulder before looking back at you, "it's show time. you ready?" he hums, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear

"what do you think? do we look convincing?" you reach down to unbutton another button on your blouse before adjusting the collar

it's taking everything within you noT to whip around to see if yoongi's just walking towards you or if he's storming towards you... because there's definitely a difference and you definitely want it to be the latter

the plan you came up with had a pretty simple formula: one handsome stranger + one flirty, oblivious y/n = one jealous yoongi

jungkook had a point about how nice it'd be to get yoongi all riled up and possessive and frankly you think you deserve it considering how dismissive he's been with you all week... which is why you were more than happy to recruit your very handsome friend baekhyun (he's very sweet / you met last semester in one of your history courses / he was more than willing to help out with your plan because he's a theatre major and this is good practice for him) to help you out with your plan!

"you're laughing like a robot." baekhyun lowers his voice, "i told you to act natural-"

"i'm being natural! ha, ha! ha! ha-ha. you're so funny, baek-" you giggle obnoxiously, reaching over to slap his chest gently, "you are absolutely the funniest person i've ever met-"

"y/n!" yoongi clears his throat loudly and you bite back a grin at the hint of annoyance you can detect in his voice, "i... thought i was picking you up from class today? i wasn't aware you hired a chauffeur!"

"oh, yoongi!" you spin around, feigning surprise as if you totally weren't expecting to see him at all, "oh, this is actually my friend- i know you've been busy so he offered to give me a ride!" you hum, stepping aside to let baekhyun step up onto the sidewalk, "baekhyun, this is yoongi-" you gesture to yoongi, "yoongi, this is baekhyun! ...my boyfriend."

you're hoping your accidental on-purpose flub-up triggers yoongi's memory of how he accidentally introduced lisa to you as his girlfriend and you're delighted to see the way yoongi's jaw drops slightly, "oh, my bad! i'm sorry, i don't know how that happened- what i meant to say was baekhyun, this is yoongi, my boyfriend. there we go."

"baekhyun..." yoongi repeats, his eyes narrowing slightly when baekhyun suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder and gives you a squeeze "well, that's very nice of you to drive y/n all the way here. thanks for doing that, man."

"oh, it's no problem at all!" baekhyun hums, reaching over to pinch your cheek, "y/n's the sweetest and i didn't want to abandon her on campus-"

"okay, she wasn't abandoned, i was literally about to leave to pick her up-" yoongi points out, lifting his keys with a jingle before abruptly shoving them into his back pocket, "you know, y/n's never mentioned a baekhyun before. you two seem... close!"

"oh, baek and i go way back." you snort, digging your elbow into his side with a grin, "isn't that right, baek?"

baek

yoongi pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek at the fact that baekhyun still has his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you haven't made a move to shoVE it off

how can you not see that his intentions with you aren't just chummy??

he wouldn't have driven you all the way here if he didn't want to get his grubby hands under your skirt-

"we most certainly do! we made some great memories in that lecture hall- i have to say, i was, uh, pretty disappointed when i found out she was already in a relationship..." baekhyun sighs dramatically, shaking his head before looking back at you, "i would treat you right and never cancel dinner plans with you-"

"okay, i think it's time for you to go, bacon-" yoongi forces a smile on his face before reaching over to gently pull you towards him, "thank you for dropping my girlfriend off. have a good one."

"oh, no problem!" baekhyun points towards you, "hey, lemme know if you need a ride to campus on monday because i'd be happy to swing by your apartment and-"

"no, i can take her!" yoongi manoeuvres you so that you're standing behind him and basically blocked from baekhyun's sight, "i've got it from here, thanks."

"bye, baek!" you wave at baekhyun as gets into his car and he salutes at you before his right eye drops in a cheeky wink and it's at that point that yoongi really thinks he's about to lose it

what the hell was that?!

he spins around to face you as soon as baekhyun zooms off and you keep yourself from asking him why his ears have suddenly turned super red

"why are you wearing lowbuttons to class?" yoongi crosses his arms over his chest, "i thought you said you were going to use them as, like, apartment decoration."

"louboutins, yoongi." you correct, looking down at your slick stilettos, "and why can't i wear louboutins to class?"

"you wore them out to dinner one time and i ended up having to carry you back to the car because your feet were aching-" yoongi reminds you with a pointed tone, "are you telling me that you walked up and down and all around campus in those things?"

"maybe i did." you shrug, turning to stick your nose up in the air a little, "i can wear stilettos to class if i so please."

"and the miniskirt?"

"what, you don't like it?" you pout, reaching down to pick a piece of fluff off the surface, "it's new!"

it's a plain black skirt but it has a little slit on the side and you purposely bought this specific piece knowing that yoongi has expressed how much he likes you in black

"of course i like it, and obviously i'm a big fan of the heels but-" yoongi huffs, "all i'm saying is that it's a little odd- the timing is weird for your miniskirts and heels to make a sudden comeback now that you're all buddy-buddy with this backyawn-"

"it's baekhyun-"

"that's what i said!"

"you know, i don't know what you're implying here but i haven't done anything wrong-" you shrug, "are you feeling okay? maybe you need to take a nap-"

"stop being stubborn, y/n. just tell me what's going on!"

"nothing's going on!" you insist, raising your hands in defense before flicking a strand of hair over your shoulder, "everything is perfectly fine and nothing is-"

"are you leaving me for baekhyun?" yoongi interrupts, his eyes suddenly softening, "because if this is how you're telling me we're over, it's a pretty shitty-"

"what- what?? no!" you shake your head quickly, "no, of course i'm not- why would you even- okay, fine! fine, i-" you let out a breath and your shoulders drop a little, "it's just that... i don't know, it kind of feels like i've been fighting to get your attention for the whole week and i... i feel like i shouldn't have to do that as your girlfriend, you know? and i'm not... i guess i just felt like i wasn't stacking up to lisa and how cool and smart she is and- this whole week it's just felt like you're in a relationship with lisa and not me, so i... wanted to make you jealous to see if you still cared. or whatever."

"are you serious?" yoongi's eyes flutter shut and he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "fuck, i'm sorry, ah- i'm sorry, y/n, i really am-" his brows knit together in remorse as he looks at you, "i think i just got swept up in all the new clients she was bringing in so i was focusing more on that than on noticing what was going on with you... i'm sorry. why didn't you just come and talk to me about it?"

"i didn't know how." you mutter, reaching up to scratch the side of your head, "i've never had to deal with something like this before, so... i know it was silly of me to come up with this whole thing-"

"you are my girlfriend, y/n." yoongi reminds you, his voice softening, "not lisa. it's you." he reaches over to hook a finger under your chin so he can get you to look at him, "i promise i only have eyes for you, pretty girl. you still love me?"

"god, yoongi-" you feel your cheeks flush at the nickname and you roll your eyes playfully before turning your head, "yeah. duh."

"oh, you silly thing..." he tuts, pulling you in for a hug and propping his chin up on the top of your head, "i'm sorry, baby. i really didn't mean to make you feel like that..." he pulls away and reaches down to glide his finger down the bridge of your nose before poking the tip, "i hope you can forgive me for being a shitty boyfriend."

"i'll forgive you if you forgive me for pretending to flirt with someone else." you smile sheepishly, yoongi grinning before nodding in agreement

"deal." he wraps an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head back towards the direction of the office, "so you really went through all that trouble just to make me a little jealous?" yoongi grins, "just for a little bit of attention? as if i'm not already all over you when we're alone-"

"well, it worked, didn't it?" you take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you squish your cheek against yoongi's shoulder and look up at him, "my acting skills are not half bad, if i do say so myself-"

"oh, shit, uh-" yoongi suddenly stops in his tracks when he sees lisa step out of the office and he spins around so that his back is facing her, "not to make you worry, but you should probably know that lisa's somehow convinced that i've been secretly flirting with her all week because i want to become friends with benefits again and she almost, like, body-slammed me in the office- also, if namjoon asks, tell him a raccoon snuck in and that's why his desk is a mess and his pens are all over the floor-"

"wait, what?!" your brows knit together and you're about to lean over to look at lisa but yoongi quickly reaches out and grabs onto your shoulders to keep you in place

"-yeah, so i'm going to lay you down on the hood of that car now because doing something extreme is probably the only thing that'll prove to her that she's wrong and i am very desperate to show her that she's wrong-"

"lay me down on the- and do what?! yoongi-!" you don't get much of a chance to say anything else before yoongi's suddenly bending down to pick you up off the ground in one swift movement, his fingers digging underneath your thighs as he lays you down on the hood of the nearest car, "yoongi-! you can't just-"

"shush!" yoongi hisses, pressing his lips against yours to shut you up promptly

"mmvph-"

it doesn't take you very long to melt into the kiss once you realize you haven't kissed yoongi like this in like a week and a half and you can't help but smile at the familiar faint taste of cherry you're getting from him

yoongi's warm hand slides down from your waist so he can hitch your left leg up against his hip, one of your heels slipping from your foot and clattering onto the floor

your senses are so clouded with yoongi cherry yoongi cherry that you nearly forget the two of you aren't alone (and also, all of this is definitely being recorded on the security cameras right now)

"hey, so- i- i'm gonna get going-" lisa announces loudly as she stands at a good distance away from the two of you, her eyes looking up towards the ceiling so that she doesn't have to watch the way yoongi's kissing down your neck, "i have to check out of my hotel, so-"

"yeah, sounds good!" yoongi pulls away for a second and shoots a quick thumbs up over his shoulder, "see you later, pal!"

"bye, lisa!" you chime in, giving her a wave even though she isn't looking at you and is really trying to double-time it to her car, "it was so nice meeting you!"

the two of you watch silently as lisa practically leaps into her mustang, the sound of the engine revving before she quickly speeds off like she just remembered she left the oven on at home

you turn your head to look up at yoongi before scoffing lightly, hooking a finger against his chain to pull him back down towards you, "you're ridiculous, you know that?"

"yeah, i know-" yoongi's nose crinkles before he offers you a boyish smirk and a half-hearted shrug, "you love it, though."

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!) ✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!) 💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles like this one!) 🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

Text

I Have This... Thing

Not My Gif

So as someone with vaginismus, it’s sometimes frustrating to read fan fiction, specifically smut. Y/N always has sex so easily and with very little foreplay, finishing with no issues. And it’s so great for people who can do that, but it’s not the case for all of us. Some of us can’t have any sort of penetration without pain. Some people can’t finish without toys, or hours of work. Some people will never be able to have penetrative sex. There’s all kinds of people, and there’s all kinds of sex. But not near enough fics featuring Y/N’s with these issues. So I’m going to write some, and feel free to request any issue with any character, and if I don’t know that character, we can collaborate to find a character you like that I do know.

Paul Lahote x reader smut.

You had lived in Forks for about 6 months now. You’ve known your new friends here for 5 months. And you’ve been the imprint of Paul Lahote for 3 months. Well, you’ve been his imprint since you guys first locked eyes at La Push when you first hung out with Emily, but he didn’t tell you about the whole werewolf/ imprint thing until 3 months ago. Safe to say it came as a shock. Your friends, the people who had welcomed you so easily, helped you move furniture around, and gave you tours of the new town, were WOLVES. Or engaged to wolves. *cough* Emily *cough*. You had to take a few weeks break from them after they told you. After Sam explained the legends, the lore. After Paul told you that you were basically his soul mate. It’s a lot to take in!

But you quickly realized that you had grown to love the pack. And now that you knew the big secret, things were easier around them. No more lies about where they had all been. No more avoiding talking about their mysterious injuries that only seemed to last for a couple hours. No more awkwardly dancing around why Paul stared at you constantly and wouldn’t let any other guy get within 6 feet of you without having a rage attack and sprinting into the woods. Things were going good.

Well… as good as they could be without sex. Yep. You and Paul had been together for 3 months and you have not had sex. You didn’t give each other head. You didn’t take your clothes off around each other. You didn’t even dry hump. And you knew it was your fault. You could tell that Paul was getting nervous about the fact that you wouldn’t let him touch you like that. He would never ask you about it, because he wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed, but you could tell it was on his mind. The little sad smile he would give when you stopped things from going further. The hover of his hands over your ass before landing back on your waist. The way he looked almost guilty after looking at you in a swimsuit or crop top.

See, vaginismus made relationships difficult. You never had a long term relationship before Paul. You were either too scared to tell partners about it, and just dealt with the excruciating pain, which would lead to resentment and breakups, or you would tell them and they would ghost you. Guys don’t normally go for girls who’s opening line is “Hi! I cannot have sex without crying.” You’d been dilating for almost a year now. It was going okay. Some days hurt more than others. A lot of times, Paul would ask you to hang out when you were in the middle of your physical therapy, and you would have to make up some excuse as to why you couldn't. Too tired. Headache. Stomach bug. He was starting to catch on.

One day, you guys were hanging out at your apartment watching a movie. You had been making out, but as soon as it started getting slightly heated, you had pulled away and got up to get a drink refill. Paul, having gotten used to the routine, didn’t question you. While you were in the kitchen pouring some more juice, Paul asked “Hey babe? Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Yeah it’s in the top drawer of my bedside table,” you haphazardly yelled back.

You heard him get up and go into your bedroom, rummaging around a little. Then silence.

“Hey babe?” he said hesitantly. You thought he just couldn’t find the charger, so you began walking towards your room to grab it for him. Once you got to the doorway, you stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes wide. Face bright red. Paul held up the dilator you were currently on, which was about 5 inches long and looked… well let’s be honest. It looked like a dildo. The bottle of lubricant that was also in the drawer didn’t help your case. How the fuck were you supposed to explain yourself? You expected Paul to tease you, make some sex jokes, and maybe try to make out with you again, but he didn’t. He looked absolutely crushed.

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” He asked, sounding on the verge of tears.

“What?! Paul, of course I want to have sex with you!”

“Then why this?” he pressed.

“You don’t even know what that’s for. Let me explain,” you pleaded, afraid he was going to lose that infamous temper. You’d never witnessed it before, but you were scared you were about to.

“I think I have a pretty good guess about what this is for!” He exclaimed, holding it up. “You won’t even let me kiss your neck but you have this that you obviously use when I’m not around. You don’t want to have sex with me. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Paul! That’s not true at all!” You were starting to get irritated at his assumptions. “It’s for physical therapy.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling orgasms now?” He questioned, exasperated.

“I’m not talking about orgasms! If you gave me two seconds to explain, you would know that that does not bring me an ounce of pleasure. I hate having to use it.” You started to tear up at this, all the memories of your struggles surging back up. At this, Paul stopped. He looked super confused, but also worried about you. God forbid you shed a tear, Paul would rip the world apart to make you happy again. “Come sit down,” you said, resigned, as you moved to sit on the edge of your bed. Paul, still holding the dilator in his hand, sat down next to you. The silence seemed to last an eternity, but you knew that the longer you went without explaining, the more hurt Paul would feel.

“I wasn’t lying when I said it was for physical therapy,” you whispered. “I have other ones. All different sizes.” You realized you might not have been helping your case with this.

“I don’t understand. Why do you need them if you don’t use them to get off?” He looked like a kicked puppy.

“Well… I have this thing. It’s like… a condition? And I need them so maybe one day I can have sex without any pain.” He still looked wildly confused, and you knew you were going to have to elaborate. “When I first started having sex, it hurt. A lot. But I always heard that it was supposed to hurt the first time. So I just kind of put up with it. It was bad though. I always tapped out, couldn’t go for more than a couple minutes. It felt like this really intense stinging. Like a rugburn all inside me. And it didn’t stop, even after I started doing it more. It never went away… I ended up googling it, and it’s actually something that a lot of women struggle with. I made a doctor’s appointment and was lucky enough to get diagnosed the first time. Lots of women are told they’re making it up. My doctor gave me these dilators, told me how to use them, and said that with enough time and physical therapy, I could have painless sex one day.” When you finished, you turned to look at him. He was staring intently at the dilator, thinking.

“So, you have to like… stretch yourself? Were you just born too small?” He phrased it delicately, but you knew what he meant.

“Basically, it’s an anxiety disorder with very physical symptoms. My pelvic floor muscles constrict when I try to put anything inside me, which makes it super painful. It’s like an involuntary reflex. Like blinking when something flies near your face. And I have to condition my body to learn that penetration doesn’t hurt, and that it doesn’t have to tighten up like that. The condition is called vaginismus. You can google it yourself if you want.”

“Oh.” A pause. Paul knew you had some anxiety, but he never guessed it could cause something like this. He knew you were embarrassed. He could tell. And the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you couldn’t be open and vulnerable with him. Did you think he would leave you? Or get mad? “Why didn’t you tell me?” Was the question that came out.

“It’s humiliating. I could tell you were getting antsy about us not having sex, and I guess I didn’t have the heart to tell you that it’s not going to happen anytime soon. This physical therapy, it takes a while. I’ve already been doing it for almost a year, and I still have three sizes after this one.” A tear fell. You wiped it away quickly, hoping he Paul wouldn’t notice, but he did. He moved to wrap his arms around you, putting the dilator back on your nightstand. He embraced you, and the reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere was more than you could handle. You burst into tears as he pulled you onto his lap and rocked you both, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You guys stayed there until you stopped crying, and then he finally spoke.

“Y/N, I don’t ever want you to feel like there’s something you can’t tell me. I love you. And yeah, I would love to have sex with you one day, but I’m with you because of who you are. I don’t care if we never do it. You are my person, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest you can be. This? This thing you think is such a problem? It’s irrelevant to me. To my love for you. And I will be here every step of the way, supporting you, cheering you on, until you don’t want me anymore.” He brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

“I love you, Paul,” was all you could say. You leaned in and shared the sweetest, most loving kiss either of you had ever experienced. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb rubbing your cheek. When you pulled away, the tension in the room was gone, replaced with you and Paul’s usual light, fun energy.

“How do you use them?” He smiled as he asked, nodding his head towards your nightstand where the dilator still rested. “Do you like… just ride them? Or..?”

You laughed, which made his smile broaden. “It’s not a sexual thing. Basically I put a towel down, cover the dilator in lube, and put it in as far as I can without pain. Then, I just sit there and leave it for like 20 minutes. And then I take it out.”

“So you just like... do homework while you do it?” His concerned face made you laugh again.

“You have to make your body associate it with pleasure, so no, I don’t do homework. Normally I’ll watch a funny show or eat some candy or FaceTime you.”

He froze at this. “You do this when we FaceTime?”

This made you blush and look away from his piercing gaze. “Sometimes. I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s just a nice distraction.”

“No, no. I don’t want you to stop. It’s just… can I see you do it?” This question shocked you. Not just the question itself, but the fact that you didn’t hate the idea. You loved kissing Paul. What better way to associate therapy with pleasure than by kissing him while you do it?

“Are you sure? Like I said, it’s not exactly sexual. Or sexy. Like at all. I literally just sit there.”

“I know, it’s ok. I want to be able to help you, but if you don’t want to we can just go back to the movie.”

“I mean I do still have to do it today.” You thought for another second, before jumping up and saying “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Paul looked happy and excited, but also lost. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, or with his eyes. Did you want him to touch you? Or just watch you? Or just sit in the corner of the room and face the wall? You were spreading a towel across the middle of the bed, and went to untie your sweatpants before looking at him.

“Guess we haven’t really gotten this far, huh?” alluding to being naked in front of each other. It did make you a little nervous, and nerves equal tight muscles, which means pain.

“Why don’t you put a blanket over yourself? That way there’s less pressure,” he suggested, and you could have kissed him for it. You smiled, nodded, and grabbed a throw blanket from the chair. He turned around to face the wall while you took off your pants and settled under the blanket.

“Ok, I’m good.” you said. He turned back around, coming to kneel beside you on the bed.

“Do you want me to just… hold your hand? Or sit here and talk to you?”

“Would you want to sit behind me?” You suggested nervously, leaning forward slightly.

“Of course! Yeah, I can do that.” He took this seriously, and you appreciated that. This was a scenario you had thought about many times, and though you knew he wouldn’t be the type to ask you to have sex with him despite the pain, it was always a possibility. The fact that he didn’t take your pain lightly, and let you be in charge so you would be comfortable, meant more to you than he would ever know. Paul gently climbed behind you, putting his legs on either side of you, and hesitantly rubbing your shoulders. You leaned back into him, as if to say I’m okay with this.

“Can you hand me the… “ You nodded your head towards the nightstand, and Paul didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence before he leaned over and grabbed the dilator and bottle of lube, holding them out in front of you both. You muttered a “thanks” as you took them from his hands, and brought them under the blanket. After slathering the dilator with a good amount of lube, you closed the bottle and tossed it towards the foot of the bed, leaning back and shifting your hips down. Paul clearly didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, so he was slow and careful as he wrapped his arms around your torso, giving you time to say stop. You didn’t, though. He felt your body tense slightly as you dragged the tip of the dilator around your entrance, so he started to rub his hands up and down your sides, kissing your cheek. You turned your head to look at him, and he met you with a sweet kiss. You guys pulled away slightly, before going back in as you began to push the dilator in further. He kissed you with love, tenderness, and care, so as not to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It was clear that you had the reigns, and Paul would stop as soon as you gave the slightest indication that you were uncomfortable. The dilator was about half way in, and you felt a slight stinging sensation, but kissing Paul distracted you. You brought one hand up to cup the side of his face, pulling him back in.

Paul kept kissing you, waiting for your lips to part so he could brush his tongue against yours. This is normally where you would stop him, but he knew everything now. There was no expectation of more, and damn. Paul was a really good kisser. He sucked lightly at your lower lip, before nibbling it and letting it go, coming back in with his lips. The combination of Paul’s kisses, the slight heat they brought to your body, and the pressure of the tip of the dilator inside you had you shift your hips, and involuntarily let out a small moan. It was barely audible, but Paul and his super senses heard it. You pulled away and slapped a hand over your mouth, your face turning bright red. He chuckled deeply, the sound going straight to your body, and brought his hand up to pull your hand off your mouth. “Don’t you dare hide those sounds from me,” he teasingly whispered into your ear. You shivered, and Paul started to kiss your cheek, down your jaw, and onto your neck. He sucked on the soft skin, hands squeezing your waist and rubbing up and down. You wanted to try something. For the first time, dilating actually didn’t feel so obligatory, so mechanical and stiff. You pushed the dilator deeper in, just about a centimeter, but enough to give you that feeling you had moments ago. You let out a breathy sigh as you tilted your head to give Paul more room on your neck. He felt you shift your hips again, and brought one of his hands to rub circles on your lower stomach. Skin on skin. And it felt good.

You kept going like this for a few minutes, and Paul could feel your skin grow hotter by the second. Your back was arched, your neck covered in light red marks, and Paul had the intense desire to see you unravel. He brought his lips from your neck up to the side of your face, getting as close to eye contact as he could in this position, and said “Can I touch you?”

You knew what he meant. The thought of it made you nervous. No one had touched you without it hurting before. It was almost as if he read your mind when he followed with “I can just stay on the outside…” Oh. You could be down with that. You turned your head to him and nodded.

“Just try not to touch the dilator,” you said softly. You trusted Paul. He was already being so kind and patient with this, and you knew he would die before he would ever hurt you. The hand that had been rubbing circles on your stomach travelled lower. Lower. Lower. Until he could feel the slight stubble of a past shave, and then your soft, wet skin. You gasped as he touched your most sensitive parts, even more so because of how turned on you were. He gently made small, tight circles over your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head as you fell completely slack against him and let out a moan. A real moan, that Paul swore he would never forget. And he made you make that sound. It only spurred him on. He applied slightly more pressure, but not so much as to overwhelm you. And he knew that when girls were feeling good, the secret wasn’t faster or harder, but to keep doing exactly what you were doing. So that’s what he did, and it had you writhing. Your moans kept coming, and your legs had started to shake. However, because it felt so good, your muscles had started to clench around the dilator, and it was beginning to hurt.

You didn’t want to rain on the parade. It was going so well. But Paul being the attentive lover that he is, noticed you begin to tense up in a new way. He brought his hand back up to your stomach, concern racing through his brain, and asked “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“It’s kind of starting to. Not you, the dilator. I think I might take it out.” You stared down at his hand still touching your stomach. Such beautiful hands. You didn’t want it to end.

“Do you want to try a smaller one? Or do you want to stop?” He questioned.

“I really don’t want to stop,” you laughed. He breathed a laugh as well, and waited for your direction. You had a thought. Paul’s index finger was smaller than the dilator. Much smaller. If you just told him what to do and what not to do, that could feel really good. “Would you want to maybe… Nevermind.” You got nervous.

“Hey, hey. No. Don’t do that. Tell me what you want,” He brought a finger up to your chin and moved your face towards him. “Tell me. Whatever it is, Princess. It’s yours.” Your whole body shuddered at this. He’s never called you that before, and to say it did something to you would be an understatement.

You let out a breath, gathering courage, and said “Would you want to… use your finger?”

He stopped at this. “Like, put my finger inside you? That wouldn’t hurt?”

“I don’t think so. It’s smaller than this,” you said, bringing the dilator out and up. “And as long as I tell you what to do, it could be really good,” you said the last part shyly.

“Okay, Princess. I can do that. How do you want me to do it?”

“Try to do more… pressure, and less… friction? Like try not to go in and out so much, but you can move it around inside.” Your face was once again blushing intensely.

“Anything you want. You just have to promise that you’ll tell me if it even hurts a little.”

“I promise.” You said it confidently enough that Paul brought his hand back down under the blanket. He circled your clit a couple times, making you shiver and release a breathy sigh, before moving his middle finger even lower, circling your entrance. He gathered some of the lube that was there from the dilator, coating his finger, and you brought your hand down to hold it, guiding it inside you at a speed that was comfortable. It was smaller than the dilator, so he was in you in 15 seconds. He stopped, and gave you a minute to adjust. Your hips writhed again because of how turned on you were, so Paul brought his other hand down and began circling your clit again. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you began to moan again, hips moving even more now. Paul took this as his queue to press his middle finger up against your inner wall lightly, causing a loud moan to leave your mouth. You were too far gone to be embarrassed.

“There you go, baby,” he praised. God, this was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He was barely touching you, barely moving his finger inside you, and you were a mess. He had been rock hard since you guys started, but your ass was rubbing against him as you moved your hips, and he released a small growl at the feeling. This only turned you on more. He kept moving his finger in you the same way. Pressure, not friction. Pressure, not friction. He kept telling himself this. He wanted to finger bang you into oblivion, but the risk of hurting you was too high, so he kept up with rubbing the tip of his finger against that spot on your upper wall, in a “come-hither” motion. Your moans began to get higher in pitch, your body tensing even more.

“Relax your muscles for me, sweetheart,” he encouraged, and you did. Your release was approaching rapidly, and you wanted to grind against his hand, but you didn’t want to risk pain, so you trusted Paul to get you there. You were panting, hips shuddering, face scrunched, as your climax hit you like a wave. Your legs shook as you opened your mouth in a silent scream, and Paul carried you all the way through it. You came down, and lightly grabbed his wrists. He knew that that meant stop. So he slowly withdrew his finger, brought it up to his mouth, and sucked on it. Head still up in the clouds, you watched him, slack-jawed, as he popped his finger out and moaned. “So sweet,” he purred. Watching him suck on his finger like that made you think of something you’d like to suck on, and you looked down at Paul, still rock hard, and turned around in his lap.

“Let me return the favor,” you said with a smirk.

#twilight #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote smut #wolf pack #seth clearwater #embry call #quil ateara #sam uley #jacob black #jared cameron #robert pattinson #bella swan #edward cullen #vaginismus #dilating #paul lahote x reader smut #twilight smut

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tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

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Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

--------------------

Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

#hawks #smut #birdbrain hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #tw dubcon #tw animal harm

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chocolatecakecas · 3 years

Text

Quality Family Time: Baby Jack ficlet

for the bah discord besties<3

In Dean's humble opinion, the week was off to a pretty good start. Sunday, he and Cas took Jack to the library and let him go wild in the children's section, then let him run off his "excitement about literature" in the park, ending with lunch at their favorite diner, which is Dean's humble opinion qualifies as a pretty great Sunday afternoon. And then Sammy and Eileen finished up their hunt earlier than expected, and they even brought back Claire and Kaia as a surprise. Meaning they got to all have a much-needed family dinner, movie night, and catch up with the girls. And they decided to stay for a few days, which meant extra babysitters, which really meant, he and Cas could have their date night this week. And of course it also meant Dean had a few days to just hang out with his family, watch some movies, watch his kids bond, run some stupid errands, cook some big meals.

Now it was Wednesday, and Dean was spending the day with Eileen and Jack, while the others opted to help Sam with the supply run. Eileen was getting a movie queued up for Jack's nap, while Dean got a start on some laundry.

(read the rest under the cut)

He was currently running out to the garage to grab the blanket he keeps folded in Baby's trunk, smiling fondly at the memory of Monday's date night.

So yeah as far as Wednesdays go, Dean was having a pretty good one.

At least, he was.

Dean's stomach dropped as he flicked the lights on, barely registering the clang of his keys hitting the floor, standing frozen in the doorway.

He's hallucinating, he must be. There's absolutely no way that-

He squeezed his eyes shut, counting to ten while he tried to will away the hallucination with his mind. But unfortunately for Dean, he didn't have that kind of mind power, because that thing was still sitting there when he opened his eyes.

Fuck.

Forcing his feet to move, Dean stepped further into the garage, reaching out a shaking hand as he inched forward.

He'll just touch it and his hand will go through it, and he can blame this hallucination on that questionable burger he ate at some local joint they all went to last night. It'll be fi-

Dean's blood turned to ice as his hand connected with cool metal. He quickly jumped back in shock, jaw hitting the floor.

Because last time he checked, Dean didn't leave an 18 foot long Lightning McQueen sitting in his beloved Baby's parking spot.

He tried to speak but all that came out was an incoherent squeak, as he raced around the car inspecting every inch of it.

He couldn't get any of the doors open or the hood for that matter, but as far as he could tell it seemed to be a real car, despite being a cartoon look-a-like.

Well, at least it wasn't talking.

"Ka-chow"

Dean slumped over onto the roof of the car, banging his head, fists following in defeat.

Because there was a Lightning McQueen look-a-like with a toy voice box, parked in the garage of their super top-secret underground Bunker, in place of one of his most prized possessions.

Maybe he spoke too soon about having a pretty good Wednesday.

Why is this happening? How did this thing get in here? Where is his Baby? Is she alright? Can he even get her back? How the hell did this ev-

Son of a bitch.

"Jack!" Dean called, voice coming out more strangled than he'd care to admit.

Of course. Cars had become Jack's new obsession over the past week, they first watched it on Friday night and he's insisted on watching it at least once a day ever since.

Dean groaned scrubbing his hands down his face. There's truly never a dull moment with a half-Nephilim toddler.

Jack probably didn't even realize what happened. Sometimes his powers react before his mind can catch up with them, like when he subconsciously made all of his toys come to life after Toy Story became his favorite movie. The kid probably didn't even know about the Cars wannabe parked in the garage, besides his kid would never tamper with Bab-

"Dee! You found Lightning!"

Dean's jaw once again found its way back down to the floor. His own kid.

He turned to see his four-year-old come bounding into the garage, practically bursting with joy.

"What the hell"

Dean tore his gaze away from Jack to see Eileen frozen in the doorway, who's jaw also joined Dean's on the floor.

"Look see it's just like Lightning, Dee!" Jack cheered as he ran over to check out the car, regaining Dean's attention.

"Uh...ye-yeah buddy. I-I can see that bu-" Dean began sounding pained, only to be cut off by Jack.

"It's a real car, Dee. You can drive it! And look I gots all the stickers on it too"

"Yeah kiddo, bu-"

"And it can talk too! It says all of Lightning's things! Do you like it Dee? Where you surprised?" Jack asked as he wrapped himself around Dean's legs, smiling up at him without a care in the world.

Dean still mostly in shock, glanced up at Eileen who looked to be in the same boat, except she was holding back barely contained laughter.

Great no help from his best friend, traitor. So Dean shakily knelt down placing his hands on Jack's shoulders.

"Listen, Squirt. I was definitely surprised. But yo-"

"Oh my god"

Dean's head jerked up to see Sam, Cas, Claire, and Kaia now standing with Eileen in the doorway, dropped grocery bags spilling out onto the floor. All of them too stunned to move, except for Cas who luckily must have noticed the distress in Dean's eyes.

"Jack, Baby. What is this?" Cas asked, quickly making his way over to them, quickly kneeling down beside Dean.

"I made Baby into Lightning! Ta da!"

"Wait, that thing is my Baby?" Dean asked voice cracking.

And of course, that's what did it.

Sam doubled over in laughter, Eileen, Claire, and Kaia quickly following, and Cas was beside him, clearly trying to conceal his laughter.

"God this is the best thing I've ever seen" Sam wheezed in the background, and if Dean weren't still reeling he'd walk right over and punch him.

Cas placed a grounding hand on Dean's shoulder, all while trying to bite back his smile. Well, Dean appreciated the gesture, at least he was trying to be considerate, unlike some people he knew.

"Bug, do you remember what Daddy and I told you about using your powers?" Cas begins, trying and failing to sound stern.

"That I can't make my toys be alive! And I didn't Baby isn't alive, and she's not even a toy!" Jack explains with a smile.

"Yea-yeah Squirt, but the second part of that little talk was that you shouldn't use your powers unless you ask Daddy, or me, or Uncle Sammy or Aunt Eileen, remember?" Dean supplied after he finally got his gears spinning again.

"Ooooohhh. Oops, sorry!"Jack shrugs and he even had half a mind to at least look a little bit sorry, but it's drowned out by another fresh wave of laughter.

"I'm so glad we decided to stay longer, does stuff like this happen all the time?" Kaia laughed behind him, as Claire wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Oh I'm so glad my distress is amusing to all of you!" Dean shot back, voice still a little unsteady, which only caused them to laugh harder. Cas met his eyes, as he squeezed his shoulder, scooting closer.

"Squirt it's okay, just uh don't do it again....now where exactly is the real Baby?" Dean asked cutting right to the chase, not missing the look Cas gave him for glossing over the whole "don't use your powers without asking" lesson.

But there was time for that later, because right now his Baby was currently a firetruck red cartoon racecar with eyes.

"That is Baby. I just made her look like that, it's her. See!" Jack explained jumping up and dragging Dean over. Everyone else followed suit, Sam giving him a shit eating grin as he handed Dean the discarded keys.

To Dean's surprise, the key unlocked the car just like baby, and the interior looked exactly the same.

"Wow kid, this is honestly pretty cool" Claire complimented with a low whistle, which earned her a death glare from Dean, only making her laugh harder.

Unbelievable. All of his kids have it out for his car today.

Dean heaved a sigh as he watched his family examine every inch of the car, not bothering to hold back their laughter at this point.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we didn't watch How to Train Your Dragon" Cas quipped wrapping Dean in his arms as he pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Dean flopped over and laid his forehead on Cas's shoulder, letting a soft laugh escape.

"Yeah well, at least my car wouldn't have been caught in the crossfire" Dean groaned back, feeling Cas' laugh rumble in his chest.

"Yes I know this is a tragedy, clearly the real live dragons would have caused less damage-well less emotional damage anyway"

"Woah, look at that, he's got jokes. Alright everyone step away from the racecar" Dean smirked, yelling that last bit as he pushed away from Cas' chest. He made his way over to Jack who was currently in the driver's seat (keys nowhere near the ignition of course), showing everyone how the horn says McQueen catchphrases now.

"Alright Houdini, while the Lightning McQueen trick was very cool, and we've reminded you that we don't use powers unless we ask. It's time to turn him back into Baby, capiche?" Dean said in the most no-nonsense tone he could manage as he kneelt down to Jack's level.

And of course Dean's very logical, very simple, very warranted request resulted in an uproar from his family.

"Wait you aren't even gonna take it for a spin?"

"You've literally got thee Lightning McQueen sitting in your garage"

"Dean c'mon one dri-"

"Nope. Not happening. Now way am I driving that thing" Dean cut in, flinging his arms out for emphasis and effectively silencing the traitor-his family.

Then he felt a little tug on his shirt.

"Please Dee? One time, then I change Baby back?" Jack asked with his best puppy dog eyes, and Dean quickly made a mental note to kick Sam's ass for teaching him that.

And as he slowly tilted his head back up, he was met with four pleading faces, all hovering around the car He desperately turned his gaze towards Cas knowing he'd be the voice of reason, he'd neve-

"Well, it would be a waste not to take the car for at least one ride" Cas shrugged almost sheepishly, barely hiding his grin. Dean stared back into his eyes trying to will him to change his mind, but he knew it was pointless.

Dean sighed his defeat, running a hand down his face. Damnit

"Fine, one drive-and I mean one. Twenty minutes tops" He shouted, throwing his hands in air in exasperation as everyone cheered.

And when Dean found himself driving back to the bunker four hours later, he and failed tried to hid his smile. He glanced in the mirror at Claire and Jack passed out, while Kaia and Sam held a whispered conversation in the magically (which Jack may or may not have had a hand in) stretched out backseat. Eileen turned in the front seat joining the conversation, as Cas sat in the middle, pressed up against Dean.

Cas gave his hand a squeezing, shooting him a knowing smile, which only earned a nudge from Dean.

So yeah, maybe Dean did almost have a heart attack earlier in the day. And maybe he did have to let a bunch of annoying people in the next town over pose for pictures with the car when they stopped for dinner. And maybe the horn said "Ka-chow" and "I am speed". And maybe the drive was more than twenty minutes. But in Dean's humble opinion, it was still a pretty good Wednesday after all.

Lightning McQueen be damned.

Tag list pt 1:

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @subbydean @organicpurplepants @you-cant-spell-subtext-without

@tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @icefire149 @dakiaty @seffersonjtarship @angeltiddies @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @jewishdeanwinchester @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @aestheticflyer26

@athenixrose @slipper007 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @winchester-novak @lyonessrampant @thiscowboyisbisexual @carverera @milfcodeddean @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie

#a very normal fic. nothing weird here at all #very normal<3 #i actually think im really funny #im fine<33333 #nothing strange. just baby jack and a fambly #bec writes #baby jack truthing #destiel fic #destiel #plantdadcas #dean winchester #seraphcastiel #rambleoncas #userzaddy #uservilma

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everythingblreview · 2 years

Text

As a big fan of BL games, I always been very supportive of companies who license and release them in English. I will wait and buy a game, I didn’t play in Japanese yet if it is announced in English and will buy the English version of a bl game I already played in Japanese.

Consider all this I will not support and encourage anyone to support Jast blue anymore and the shit they are doing.

Let’s break this done.

Jast is licensing nitro+chiral game, especially popular in the west and known for their darker content, (which is good even though most of them already had a fan patch) but honestly they are doing a horrible job with it.

Even ignoring that their game often tend to have errors and bugs, but them cutting up and trying to sell their games to minors is a big no no.

I’ve been in their server and they seem completely fine with having 14 years old children on a server for 18+ bl games (and yes I’m sure some played dmmd when they were 14) but were are talking about adults here trying to sell their games to children and not even caring. Also cutting bl games that are not mean to been cut in the first place, is dumb. They removed so much stuff from sweet pool the game didn’t even make sense to people who played it cut. Sure maybe dmmd works a little better but you won’t go far with their other games. Slow damage will be even worse because it’s so much darker and if you cut it you will just remove the whole plot, and all the poor people who will play it cut without even knowing, ruining the game for themselves. Do you need money that badly jast?

Secondly, I would like to talk about a big problem I have with their games: the translation. It’s bad.

They add unnecessary swearing, things like “bro” “dude” making them sounds like so edgy American teenager, I don’t know who is translating this but don’t add stuff that is not there in the first place, don’t try to make everything more “edgy” and don’t try to make Japanese people talk like some Americans, yes this is translated by americans with amrican audience in mind probably but please be more respectful toward the original. Sweet pool already made Makoto sounds stupid but dmmd was just a joke. the game is already seen as a meme but jast made it only worse, to a point you could not read it anymore.

And the last thing that made me especially mad the last few days: How Jast is handling slow damage. One pic of the game showed ones again unnecessary swearing and it was not even translated correctly (sure it can only be this one time but consider they disappointed me enough already, I doubt that)

What makes me really made is how they present the game: as some edgy game meme, what are you doing Jast trying to make a dmmd out of this, or what? Sure, people who didn’t play don’t know it but this game is so far away from being in any way funny or “edgy”. I really want to know if the person who tweets this shit even played the game. Giving the most stupid answers to question people ask. They are not your characters jast answer with that what n+c wrote in the game. Them making a joke character out of Towa, makes so MAD saying stuff like “he would read killing stalking” or “make you worse” WTF jast. Are you fucking stupid to portray a fucking mentally ill character with heavy trauma who is one step away from committing suicide as some fucking joke?? this is not dmmd, THE GAME IS NOT FUNNY, TAKE THIS FUCKING SERIOUS JAST.

Are they so desperate to sell this game that you need edgy 14 year old kids for your costumers? How about selling them for a higher price and taking things serious for ones jast?

I can only imagine a lot of people going into the game expecting some Aoba kind of joke character only to be hit with one of the most traumatic and darkest themes in a game I ever played.

Consider this I won’t ever judge people who still buy their games because some people only have this option.

But this makes me really said, fans deserve a good translation and a game that is treated seriously but all we get is...jast and their cringy joke.

No wonder n+c doesn’t want to work with them if their sell their games for such a low price, and I hope they never can translate lamento because they don’t deserve the game (go play the fanpatch version it’s great) if you want to support n+c directly go buy their games in Japanese, use the fan-translation or machine translation to play it if you can. At this point I don’t think Jast will ever change, and I will not support them in any way.

On a better note, Tokyo Onmyouji will be finally released on the 25th February. Please support the game it looks great and Moonchime Localization did work really hard on it to release it on time unlike some others who make empty promises, took the game and the character seriously and didn’t try to make a joke out of it.

#Nitro+chiral #n+c #boys love #jast blue #jast is trash #bl game #blvn #Dmmd

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