#//this is a few hours early but idc

[phagodyke]

had nightmares and forgot abt clock changes so I took my meds an hour late I feel so sick :(

[str8aura-no-not-that-one]

i know its word of mouth quoting word of mouth, but holy fucking shit i have never needed anything more

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ no one has to know what we do ]❜

ft. cho sang-woo x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you lay in bed with your dad’s best friend after a night of passion┊1.3k words

contains: slight smut!! dom sang-woo & sub reader┊age gap (reader is early 20s & sang-woo’s early 40s), (adopted) dad’s best friend trope, purposeful seduction, one-night stands, unprotected piv (don’t do anything the reader does, this is fiction & unrealistic, stay safe), creampie, biting, smoking, 

➤ author's note: i was thinking about this man all night, i’m not kidding, i’m doing it again tongiht too because he’s so fine idc if he’s evil, i wanna fuck him not fix him

it’s nearly four in the morning on another cold winter’s night with nothing but a yellow-tinted bedside lamp illuminating the room, completely silent aside from the rustling of the blanket from your movement. you sigh softly and nestle closer to the man lying flat on his back for more of the addicting warmth radiating off his body, your face nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder and your legs entangling with his. he doesn’t pull away like you expected him to, just takes another drag on his cigarette and ignores you for the most part with the weight of the past few hours— the weight of the sins he committed tonight— pressing into his mind.

you, on the other hand, were all soft smiles and feeling content as if you just crossed off an accomplishment on the top of your bucket list. for a situation that could ruin both of your lives if discovered, it certainly feels blissful and freeing to finally fuck the man you’ve been dreaming about almost religiously ever since you came back home from university for the holidays a week ago. you have no idea how you’ve never met him until now when you’ve heard so much about him, but perhaps it was better that way when your thoughts were less than innocent. 

despite being middle-aged, he was still very handsome with intelligent albeit weary eyes which seemed to hide some sort of darkness to them. you found yourself studying him from afar, noticing him not wearing a wedding ring and making no mention of a family other than his mother, so you quickly made up your mind that you were going to fuck him before going back to school. it’s not like you had anything better to do anyway.

it actually didn’t take much to seduce him surprisingly: accidental eye contact filled with longing, lingering touches when you handed him his chilled cheap beer, careful actions and words to play up your sex appeal— it reminded you that most men are the same even if the stoic cho sang-woo was older and prided himself in his cunning mind, starved for affection with wandering eyes that frequently followed beneath the hem of your skirt. he looked at you behind his glasses with distrust and tried to act indifferent towards you in front of gi-hun, probably already suspicious about your intentions, but you could already see him drinking up your appearance in your cute little outfit as he downed another bottle. this little game was one you knew well and you always won in the end, there has yet to be anyone you wanted who couldn’t resist you and he certainly wasn’t going to be the first.

he stayed the night in the guest bedroom because it was already dark out, your former room which was converted after you moved out (sometimes it was rented out for extra cash), and at the strike of midnight, you knocked on the door and presented yourself to him seeking his comfort for an unspecified reason with slightly teary doe eyes. it was clear that you didn’t disturb him from his slumber and that he was already awake, visibly restless, and maybe even stressed. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was bothering him so much. he was hesitant to let you in at first, as any good man would, but his resolve crumbled after seeing how beautiful you looked in the dim light (not like it wasn’t already a breeze away from collapsing after the alcohol). it’s surprising what a little silk nightgown can do with the thin straps threatening to slip off your shoulders, the short hem revealing your soft thighs, your perk nipples straining through the thin fabric, and how small and vulnerable you looked shivering in your lack of clothes.

“you shouldn’t be here at this time.”

“are you going to turn me away?”

still, even if it all went according to plan, he’s not in love with you. you don’t think he is anyway. you don’t expect him to be. would you like him to be in love with you? it might put the aching loneliness at ease even if it won’t make it disappear entirely. he’s a man old enough to be your father after all, he’s a man who grew up with your father and considered him to be a close friend. is this how you thank your father for taking you in and sharing what little he had with you? by seducing and sleeping with his best friend? 

in all honestly, though, he certainly fucked like he was in love with you— like you two were the last two souls on this earth. he was a lot more pent up than you anticipated, or a lot more lonely, trusting into you so deeply one would think he was trying to reach your empty heart as you clawed at his back leaving red rivers of scratched skin. you barely even needed any prep for his size with how soaked you were, evident with a wet patch on your underwear which he teased before throwing it to be forgotten on the floor along with all your other clothes. 

it was difficult to keep the sinful sounds of sex to a minimum, skin against skin with moans slipping from your mouth and groans from his. he had to resort to covering your mouth with his large palm to shut you up and bit into your collarbone leaving his mark on you, finally finishing inside of you in his haze before using his fingers to help you reach your orgasm and embarrassing you for once by staring intently at how the mix of your arousals dripped all over his hand.

“when are you leaving for university?”

“why, are you going to miss me when i’m gone?”

“we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“no one has to know what we do,” you giggled, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth and inhaling the smoke. “i’m old enough to keep a secret.”

those last words made him pause for a second. this was immoral and forbidden. if seong gi-hun were ever to find out, their relationship would be ruined forever and you would be disowned, and he could only imagine the look of betrayal on his face. yet you didn’t seem to care in the least bit about what he would think, gingerly rubbing your thighs together at the feeling of him leaking out of you and touching the area where he bit you. it drew his attention, finally turning to you and admiring the mark sunken into your skin, looking almost proud of it like art on a clean canvas. 

“i don’t want you sleeping with some other stupid boys when you go back.”

“hm, only if you promise that this won’t be the last time and that you also don’t fuck anyone else while i’m gone.”

“you know, i can’t promise that. we were lucky to not get caught this time, but who’s to say there will be a next time?”

“well, then i’ll go back to university and have sex with whoever i want, then you can do the same—”

“oh, shut up,” he scolded, pinching your cheeks to pull you towards him and kissing you possessively as if he could consume you whole by it. you were glad to reciprocate, allowing him to climb back on top of you while your arms wrapped around his neck. “fine, as long as you keep your word.”

he said it like he didn’t really want to continue this, like he was conceding to your demands and was merely tolerating you with better things to do, but the thinly veiled desperate need in his words and actions was clearer than glass to you. not that you minded, it was all working out just how you wanted it to.

[downbadf0rficppl]

pink in the night

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Porn with a bit of plot, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, soft Buck, SMUT!!!!

AN: Sorry y'all! It's kinda a bit shit but listen, it's self-indulgent so idc :) This is kinda inspired by 'Pink in the Night' by Mitski which I was listening to while writing this. Have a good rest of the week, y'all <3

Repost

Bucky had a love-hate relationship with being your neighbour. On the one hand, he loved seeing your face as you left your room every morning, hair not yet slicked to perfection, and sleep still evident on your face. You seemed a lot more innocent in the morning - conversations more idle.

On the other hand - and perhaps as a downside to his more sensitive hearing - you drove him crazy with the knowledge of things that perhaps he wasn't supposed to know.

This night was no different. You had headed off to bed after a long day, bidding everyone in the kitchen a good night. You grabbed a water bottle before slipping into the elevator, Bucky not far behind. You stepped out of the elevator together and you wished him sweet dreams before slipping into your room. Oh, his dreams were going to be far from sweet.

You see, your beds were pushed up to opposite sides of the same wall, so he could hear you relax on your bed. He could hear you shuffle to strip into just your underwear, and how your hand slipped into your panties. He could hear how your breath hitched as you circled your clit, and your soft moans as you plunged your fingers into your cunt or as your vibrator dipped in between your folds.

He could almost envisage you doing it - a forbidden porno that took root in his mind every night that he heard you finger yourself to completion. The rosy pink flush that you would glow as you came all over your hand. Your heavy rise and fall of your chest as you came down from your high. The small smile that would adorn your face as rolled over to fall asleep - the oxytocin released coursing through your veins.

He felt disgusting as he did - one of those creeps that he intended to protect you from for the rest of his life. But after you'd fallen asleep, he'd hop into the shower to cool his body and his mind - to throw the detestable thoughts of you to the far corners of his mind. But as he fell asleep, you'd re-enter his mind in a different way. A more safe-for-work way. You'd be in his arms, cuddling him and whispering sweet words of encouragement. You'd be cooking him dinner while he told you funny stories about his life with scrawny Steve in the 40s; he'd be washing the dishes while you sat on the counter tell him about your day. He'd worry for your well-being - not as an overbearing coworker but as a loving, doting boyfriend. Maybe husband.

Bucky was getting ahead of himself - he'd have to work up the courage to have more than a few-word conversation with you. But for now, wishing he could hold your hand would have to suffice.

Being Bucky's neighbour was not much easier. Especially when he was completely oblivious to your plight. Even the slight brush of a hand made your heart flutter.

You loved seeing him early in the morning - he always seemed less reserved when he was fresh from a good night's rest. He was faster to smile, faster to laugh. It was nice. You woke up at an ungodly hour to see him just before he headed on his morning run. You couldn't deny that the morning light did wonders for him - you were always left wanting more when he dipped into the elevator.

Oh, and the sounds. Your hearing was not quite as superior as Bucky's, but you definitely heard things that left you clenching around thin air.

You knew Bucky wasn't one to self-complete often - in fact, it was rare that you ever caught on to the act. But you had caught the odd broken moan coming from his room. You turned into molten mush, the weight of your arousal buckling your knees. If there was any sound that could turn you to putty, it was that.

You didn't how many times the idea of Bucky fucking you had played through your mind, but each night a different variation brought you the same ending - your fingers deep in your cunt, coaxing you to a climax.

Every night, you wished his cock, tongue, fingers were filling you up instead of yours, leaving you aching and wishing for more. You wanted to run your nails down his back - leaving permanent reminders of your love for him - while he nipped at your neck - leaving marks claiming you as his.

Sometimes, your brain caught up to your thoughts, reprimanding you for your possessiveness. He wasn't yours, you had to remind yourself, even if you wished he was. For that, you'd have to actually have to have more than a few-word conversation with him - which to be honest, seemed impossible. So you stuck to your nightly wishful dreaming, hoping one day he'd be yours. Only yours.

Summer was the worst for Bucky. You were the type to spend hours upon hours out in the sun, coming back with a budding tan and rosy complexion - it did nothing to quell the budding images flashing in the back of his mind. You. Under him. Panting. Moaning his name as he brought you to the edge. Over and over again. Face glowing pink as you gaze up into his eyes, drunk on love and his cock. Bucky had to excuse himself to splash cold water on his face.

It didn't help that the clothing you wore did nothing to help his imagination. The semi-sheer tops, the shorts, the swimsuit and bikinis. Every time he saw you, he immediately had to duck back inside to deal with 'a little problem'. More like a very large, very hard, and very obvious problem.

Still, he enjoyed your company more than he had for the better part of his time living in the compound. He listened to your stories, your jokes, helped solve your issues. He felt that - even if you weren't quite what he wanted you to be - your relationship was blossoming into something quite beautiful. And that made him feel a lot braver - he introduced a little comment here and there, a hand always on your waist or the small of your back. He flirted with you from time to time: just to gauge a meter on your reactions, he'd tell himself, as if this was an experiment to crack a hypothesis that had been perplexing scientists for years.

The sun was peaking over the top of the trees surrounding the compound when you woke up. That was a rarity in summer, given that the sun rose at nearly 5am. Still, you didn't miss out on the opportunity to watch the sunrise, curling up on your windowsill with your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

You heard Bucky opening his door, and you ran towards yours, grabbing your phone and slippers on your way. You opened your door just as he closed his. He was dressed in gym wear - as always - since he was going on his morning run around the compound track. It was a nice track - one that you rarely frequented - going in and out of the forest behind the compound, totalling about 4.5 miles in distance.

He took you in, eyes bulging as they raked over you. You looked down, following his gaze. Shit. In your rush to see Bucky, you'd forgotten that your nightwear had consisted of some flimsy shorts and your bra - that you had thrown on after waking up to save a modicum of dignity, should someone burst into your room. It was too hot for anything else. You crossed your arms over your chest, which indefinitely made the issue worse as Bucky's eyes lifted way over your head.

"Looking good, babe!" Nat yells, walking across the landing toward you both. Clearly, Bucky had been intending to go on a run with her, maybe fit in a quick sparring session. You sent them on their way, with a 'have fun' and 'don't have too much fun.'

As soon as you were back in the comfort of your room, Nat elbowed Bucky hard.

"Oww! What the fuck was that for?" Rubbing his metal arm, for the convincing act.

"Oh please, you big baby. You have a fucking metal arm, get over yourself." She looked down, "You have a bit of a situation going on down there."

He looks down, embarrassment flushing his cheeks bright red, and subtly tucked his hard dick into his waistband.

"You wanna go sort that out? I won't hold it against you," Nat said, hitting the button to call the lift, "I promise not to tell Stark. Scout's honour." She jokingly holds up 3 fingers. Bucky swats her arm gently.

"No point."

Nat gasps, "No way. Don't tell me Mr. Winter Soldier can't have sex."

"Not sex," Bucky mumbles, "Just jerking off. Can't seem to - you know - finish."

Bucky had a history with Nat. They'd known each other for years. That kind of history made this kind of conversation somewhat less uncomfortable.

Nat burst into laughter. So much for not being uncomfortable.

The lift stopped on Sam's floor. He stepped in, gazing warily at the scene in front of him: the Black Widow doubled over in laughter, and the Winter Soldier embarrassed and uncomfortable in the corner.

He begged to be let in on the joke. Nat wheezed between laughs, "He - can't - fucking - cum!" Bursting into another bout of laughter, with Sam close behind, Bucky jumps out on the next floor, heading to the roof for some fresh air. He catches you up there, trying out some morning yoga. He sneaks up behind you as your stand up, grabbing your waist. You shriek, hitting him hard in the chest, before melting into his embrace once your brain caught up to the situation.

"Not fair!" You pouted, pausing your peaceful music, "Yoga's supposed to be peaceful!"

Bucky chuckles, pulling you into another hug, feeling you wrap your arms around his neck.

"I thought you were going on a run with Nat?" You whispered into his ear, your cheek resting on his clavicle.

"She ditched me for Sam." Bucky opted to leave out the real reason why he had left Nat and Sam in pieces in the elevator.

"Sucks to be you, Barnes!" You laugh pulling away and stepping back onto your mat. "Now leave me alone - just 'cause your friends abandoned you, doesn't mean you can bother me."

Bucky pouted, causing you to laugh before you turned back to your Yoga. He stood there and watched you for a minute, before heading back down to the gym. He strung up a punching bag, before wrapping his flesh wrist. Bucky took all his pent-up aggression and frustration out on the punching bag, allowing no respite between each jab, cross, and hook.

He stayed in the gym for over 3 hours, working every bit of stress out of his body. By the time he left the gym, the sun was high in the sky and a long day of paperwork and training awaited. Bucky headed up to his room for a quick shower - washing all the sweat off his body.

He felt lighter heading downstairs for breakfast - the weight of his arousal pushed far back in his mind. There was nothing he could do about it anyway.

Since deciding he would pursue you honestly, he couldn't seem to finish, no matter how hard he tried. You had been the only thing to push him over the edge - it seemed his body couldn't do it without you. It was frustrating beyond belief. He'd tried other things, porn, erotica, even thinking back to good times before the war. Nothing helped. It was as if his body was finetuned to you - only you knew the magic password to release him. Figuratively and literally.

When he reached the kitchen, he was privy to a welcome sight. You, in your combat gear, grabbing some granola bars before you jumped on the quinjet. You and Stark were heading on a surveillance mission in Guatemala for the week. You were reaching up to the top shelf, stretching on your tiptoes for the expensive granolas that had been kept on the top shelf. Bucky's granola bars that he had put there to stop anyone else from stealing them.

He reached up from behind you and grabbed the box, placing it in your hands. You looked guilty. You'd been caught red-handed.

"It's fine, doll. Take as many as you want." He said, leaning back against the counter, resting on his forearms. Your face flushed red as you grabbed 2 or 3, shoving them into your bag and turning around to fill up your water bottle.

You shivered when his hot breath fanned across your exposed neck, "Just remember that you owe me."

He was gone by the time you turned around.

The rumour had spread like wildfire while you were away.

"Did you hear that Bucky can't have sex?"

"I heard that Bucky can't - you know - cum?"

"Apparently, his time at Hydra fucked him up worse than he realised."

"He can't even masturbate you know?"

The rumours were getting out of hand, but he let them swirl. There was an ounce of truth to them, even if Hydra had nothing to do with his current predicament.

No, that blame could only lie with you.

When you got back, Bucky had just left on a 4-day-long mission with Sam - which meant you heard all the rumours and Bucky wasn't there to defend himself.

You heard it first when you dropped your suit off for dry-cleaning. One of the tech guys was whispering to Marta, the woman who looked after the dry cleaning of suits, about Bucky's apparent inability to ejaculate. You were shocked. Where the hell did they even get that information? You dropped off your suit and headed back up to your room to shower.

You then heard another mention of it when you went to drop off your reports. Two of the agents that were being reassigned to Steve's team - that were currently on a month-long mission in Chad - were gossiping outside Tony's office.

" - and apparently she ran out crying. Thought she wasn't good enough for him or something along those lines. I don't know."

"Yeah, apparently the breakup was grizzly."

"I feel bad for him you know, all of the shit he went through with Hydra, and now this?"

"Yeah, man, really sucks."

Your face blushed a bright red. What the fuck? Where did this rumour even come from? You knew for a fact that Bucky hadn't had a girlfriend since living in the compound so wherever that part of the rumour came from was completely untrue.

You had to get to the bottom of this.

You spent the better part of the next 2 days collecting bits of information from conversations between people around the compound. You found out that the rumour had originated from a conversation between Nat and Sam, which an agent had overheard while they were on their run. It had been twisted as most oral stories were leading to this big misleading idea that Bucky was unable to even get it up and that he was unable to please a woman. You were sure the latter part was untrue. You'd heard the way he moaned alone in his room - you were sure that you could cum just from his moans alone. He wouldn't even need to touch you.

You didn't think the rumour would affect you when Bucky got back. After all, you knew at least some of it to be false. But when he got back, his beard grown out a little because he couldn't shave it while he was away, you felt embarrassed. Not because of his supposed 'predicament' but because you felt as if you had found out something that you maybe weren't supposed to know.

Bucky caught on quicker than you would have liked. The night after he got back, Tony had thrown a little get-together to 'celebrate midsummer'. Realistically, Tony just wanted a reason to go out and drink with his friends. You had avoided Bucky most of the night - not necessarily intentionally, but Bucky still felt slightly hurt and more than a little confused.

He caught you alone on the balcony, looking out at the stars.

"Did I do something?" He said, sneaking up behind you and making you jump. Nervousness and insecurity laced his every move, worried that he had hurt you in some way that he couldn't possibly imagine.

You shook your head violently, scared to make eye contact with him. He lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"What's wrong?" You turned back to face the sky, embarrassment filling your chest. He laced his metal fingers into yours, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not. Nothing's stupid, not if it's you." Your heart fluttered at his words.

Your eyes met his steady gaze, "It's really stupid." His eyes begged you to go on, "It's just that - um - when I got back I - um - heardthisreallystupidrumourandIshouldn'thaveletitgettomebutbasically -"

Bucky placed a hand on your waist, drawing small circles, "Breathe."

"Someone said you had trouble pleasing women." You let out quietly. If it hadn't been for his enhanced hearing, he probably would have missed you. His grip on your waist tightened, "Bucky?"

"Trouble pleasing women? That's a new one." His deep voice cut you to your core. You let out a small whimper as the arousal pooled in your panties.

Bucky didn't miss that either.

He grabbed your arm and led you through the party. No one gave you a double look as he lead you into the vacant elevator, slamming your floor number and pushing you up against the wall.

"Think I can't please a woman, huh? Think again. Don't think I don't know what you think about when you cum all over your hand, whining my name under your breath." You whined lowly at his words, feeling how he pushed his hard dick perfectly in line with your throbbing pussy, "Isn't that right, slut? That's what you are, aren't you? My perfect little slut?" You moan at his degrading statement, pushing your pussy further onto his cock trying to find some friction.

"So needy," He tutted, his condescending tone only heightening your arousal. The elevator door pinged and Bucky picked you up bridal-style, kicking the door to your room open. You regularly forgot to lock it while heading down to dinner - for once, both you and Bucky were glad.

He dropped you on your bed, unceremoniously, eyes raking over you ravenously. The heat rose up your face, as you shifted under his unrelenting gaze.

"Oh baby, you don't how long I've been waiting for this." He leaned down locking your lips in a passionate kiss. His palm landed just above your knee, caressing up your leg towards your upper thigh. His hand slid under your dress, cupping your ass. He left a light squeeze, making you gasp into the kiss.

He leaned down, grabbing you with ease, flipping you both so you were straddling his waist. He tangled his flesh hand in your hair, the metal one possessively gripping your hip. He brought you down to his lips for another kiss - even when you were on top, he made sure you knew that he was in charge.

He toyed with the hem of your dress, eyes raking over you once again.

"Off."

You pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties. You felt seriously underdressed, especially considering Bucky was still in his jacket. He reaches up, joining your lips in another kiss, and reaching around to remove your bra. He tosses it to the side, running his knuckles over your pebbled nipples. You moan loudly, panties soaked. He takes his time pinching and squeezing your nipples, licking and biting as he went. The alternate sensations of one warm hand and one ice-cold heighten your arousal ten-fold. You buck your hips over his jeans, the sensation of his fly between your sensitive folds throwing you into overdrive.

His grip on your waist tightened once again. "I can feel your cunt throbbing, honey." You whimpered pathetically. "Go ahead, use me to get off. I know you want to."

Your hips started bucking off their own accord, clothed pussy running over the fly of his jeans. They started slow, getting a feel for what exactly you were doing. Bucky's hands started pushing you faster, setting a faster groove. The coil in your stomach began to tighten as your bucking became more erratic. You teetered on the edge of an orgasm when Bucky stopped you.

"Beg." He restarted your pace, faster and more erratic than before.

"Please, please, please, please, Bucky, please let me cum, please..-" You babbled, tripping and stumbling through your pleas. With a searing kiss, he gives you permission.

"I love you, I love you, I love, OH-" You fall off the edge of one of the hardest orgasms you've ever had, head empty with only one thing on your mind. Bucky.

You feel Bucky manhandle your body so your back is lying on the bed and he is towering over you. He asks you if you want to go on and all you can do is nod your head vigorously.

He chuckles, "I like your enthusiasm baby, but I need words. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, YES!" You shout, breathlessly, already needing more.

He's fully naked and it's all you can do to not stare. He's definitely a well-endowed man, and he definitely has no problem getting it up.

"Like what you see?" He smirks, and you slap his thigh playfully. He pulls you further toward the edge of the bed and lines his dick up with your slick folds. He slides in slowly, holding your chin up so you keep eye contact with him. He watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head in satisfaction. You've never felt so full in your life. He presses into you slowly, feeling the way your tightness engulfs him, allowing your body to adjust to his size. You whimper softly as he pushes in - you never realised just how desperate you were for him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He chuckles, watching as tears leak out of your eyes. His condescending tone was back, and all it did was make you hornier. You babbled incoherently, "Gone dumb already? What a cock-drunk little slut you are."

He trails a metal finger up the side of your torso, watching the goosebumps left in its wake. You whimper again.

"Such a needy little baby. Only I can take care of you like this, right? Only me."

"Only you." You affirmed, pressing a kiss to the arm near your head.

He pulled out almost entirely, before slamming all the way back in. You screamed in pleasure, and Bucky set a brutal pace. He pinned your arms above your head with his right hand, and his left hand came to wrap around your throat. The significance of that was not lost on you. He loved you enough to not hurt you, even with his metal arm.

"I love you, baby. You know that right?" Bucky looked you deep in the eyes, "You know I love you right?"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," You babble back, lost in the throes of passion.

Bucky found your clit with his metal hand, pressing and flicking gently. You felt your muscles tighten for a second time, and you grabbed the sheets throwing your head back as you came harder than the first time.

Bucky came moments later, deep inside you with a loud moan. He pulled out slowly, collapsing next to you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself into his neck.

He chuckled at that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a bear hug. You stayed like that for a minute before he untangled himself from you and carried you to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower and you both stepped under it, cleaning the sweat and cum off your bodies. Your legs felt like jelly, so you leaned heavily into Bucky as he washed you off.

"Stay awake, doll, just for a second," He said, shaking you awake each time you dozed off in the shower.

Bucky pulled some of your clothes onto your body, before setting you down on the bed. He gave you a quick kiss to the forehead before promising to be back soon.

He snuck into his room wrapped in a towel, before throwing on the first pair of sweats he could find and dashing to the kitchen for a cup of water.

He snuck back into your room, to see you already dead asleep on the bed. He slipped under the covers, tugging you closer to his chest, and smiled.

Through your grogginess, you nuzzled into his chest. "I love you." You whispered, your lips resting against his heart.

You woke up to the sound of soft snoring in your ear and sunlight streaming through the window. You smiled. You untangled yourself from Bucky's arms, disappearing into your bathroom to pee. You wash your face and brush your teeth before diving back into Bucky's arms.

Your legs were still sore from last night, but you didn't care. You were Bucky's and Bucky was yours. The very thought put a massive smile on your face.

"What's tickled your feather this morning?" Goddamn, his morning voice was sexy. You smiled and pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

Bucky smiled through the kiss. He picked you up by the thighs, carrying you while he brushed his teeth and splashed his face.

The compound was pretty silent, barely anyone was awake after drinking the night away. So, while Bucky made you pancakes for breakfast, you asked him the question, "Hey, Buck, where did the rumour come from?"

He looked at you, vaguely embarrassed, "You know that day, when me and Nat were gonna go down to train?"

You face flushed red, "When I walked out in my underwear?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I got a hard-on, like a teenage boy."

You stifled a laugh.

"So, Nat said, do I wanna go deal with it? And I told her I couldn't."

You looked at him confused, "Why not?"

"Cause of you," he said simply. You looked at him even more confused, "You were the only thing I got get off to. I tried everything else. Porn, erotica, even thinking about old sex. Nothing worked."

You flushed red again. "Oh god, I've weirded you out, haven't I?" You broke off his impending spiral with a kiss.

"I love you." You said, placing a kiss on his bare chest.

He looked at you with such love and reverence that you felt like you might combust under his gaze.

He kissed you again and all you could think was, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you I love you I love you.

fin.

buy me a coffee

[oceantornadoo]

rose scented scrubs

ex-husband Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x f!reader

the post-divorce love confession fic of my dreams, word count 5.5k

ps I know Dana said it was her last shift in one of the episodes but idc deal with it I had to write her.

-

It was a few hours into your book when you realized you’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

It had been the first cafe to catch your eye, advertising a yummy pastry you’d been aching to try on a beautiful late Saturday morning. Only after you’d noticed the fourth person in scrubs at the counter did you realize your mistake. The cafe had two entrances - one on the busy street you came in on, the other right outside of Pittsburg Medical Center.

Current workplace of your ex-husband.

You hadn't been near the hospital in months. When you'd been married (the past tense of it a hard pill to swallow, let alone think), you would drive by the hospital on your way to work, leaving early so you could stop by and get a kiss from the man who'd already been up since 5am. After the papers were signed, ink dried and heart broken, you told yourself to revel in those extra twenty minutes of sleep. Now you could drive straight to work, no pit stop needed, and all you had to give up was your marriage.

An almost-kid in black scrubs burst through the door, scanning his phone like his life depended on it. With his flustered expression, he looked like the stereotype of a country boy losing his way in the big city. You checked the clock - 3pm. A little over halfway into the usual twelve-hour shift from 7 to 7. The knowledge sprang up unbidden, carved into your brain by how long you’d lived and breathed it. “Hello! Can I get one black coffee, no cream or sugar, two lattes, regular milk…” he ended with a total of ten drinks, an amount the barista behind the counter barely seemed flustered by. At least for one of them, it wasn’t their first day on the job. He ended up near your chair and the urge to ask was too great, desperation clawing its way out of your throat.

“Are they making the interns get drinks now?” You quip, immediately cursing yourself. There was absolutely no reason to interact, who knows if he’s even in Robby’s department, why- “Yeah, actually. We had a pretty rough time last month, so the admin staff is giving us a new food and drink stipend instead of more staff.” He laughs to himself before remembering that you're a stranger, his cheeks apple red. “Are you a doctor?” He asks. Now it just sounded creepy if you said no, but there was absolutely no chance you could say yes. “No, but I’ve got friends at the hospital.” Friends being Dana, who forces you into monthly mental health check ins where she stares at you until you cry.

“Who’s your friend? If you want, you could stop by with me. I haven’t memorized her name yet, well it’s only my first month, but the front desk worker is super nice, especially since the ER is slow right now.” You gulp at the pit (figurative, not literal) that you’ve dug yourself into. Of course you had to talk to the ER intern. It couldn’t have been Peds, where they’d invite you to say hi to cute babies from the NICU glass? You’ve done it once or twice, bored of waiting on Robby and making friends with all the nurses.

You open to give your refusal and apologies but get interrupted by the barista shouting “Dennis!” Three containers of drinks appear out of nowhere, and you can’t help but cringe at how Dennis has no way to carry them all. He’s currently attempting to balance one on top of the other, and your duty as a Good Samaritan suddenly becomes clear. The thought of seeing Dana, and perhaps Collins or McKay if you’re lucky, makes your heart swell. Robby will be easy to avoid if you stay vigilant. Tucking your book into your tote, you stand and prepare yourself for battle. It’s easy to make your way to Dennis, who looks like a circus performer, and grab two of the drink trays. “C’mon, kid. Let’s caffeinate these people.”

It feels like a dream you’ve dreamt a thousand times. Walking into the ER, looking fabulous with your makeup just right and your best perfume on. Dropping off a sick friend and running into Robby, stunning him with your six-month post-divorce glow up. Or maybe it’s a year later and you bring in an injured and scandalously younger boyfriend to show him what he’s missing. After those dreams, you always wake up empty, soul heavy. In other ones, it’s you on the gurney, letting him prove to himself he can save the people he loves, that you’re not just another Adamson. A romantic revelation that would fix those last hollow months of your marriage, grief and regret heavy on his tongue but never making its way out. Those end in tears, your face wet when you wake.

You’d never imagined this - your best weekend leggings and your favorite tote swinging from your shoulder as you follow in what has to be Robby's baby intern. You nod at the woman behind the counter, a new person you don’t know. She seems about to stop you from going in but then you hear a clear voice yell your name. So much for an in and out mission.

McKay greeted you with a warm smile, taking one of the drink trays from you as she nudges your shoulder. “Long time no see!” Her friendly tone makes you ache with regret. You’ve kept up with Dana only because she forced her way into your new, solitary life. It felt uncouth to reach out to McKay or Collins, like it would seem a ploy to get back to Robby. Shame ruins through your veins at your actions, or lack thereof. “Hey, I’m sorry for the ghosting. Been going through some stuff. I like your new bangs!” She doesn’t let you distract her, brows staying knitted at your second sentence. For once, you hate how determined she can be, her maternal instincts knowing no bounds. “What stuff?” McKay pulls you off the side, ignoring the drinks in both of your hands that are definitely in demand.

“Well, I’m sure you already know.” You roll your shoulder forward to emphasize your point. It’s pretty clear what you’re talking about, but the word ‘divorce’ feels too ugly to mention between you two. She doesn’t seem to get the memo, looking you up and down like she’s expecting the answer to pop out of the sweater you’re wearing. “I don’t get paid enough for you to waste my time being all facetious.” You snort, but the anticipation of your next words sobers you quickly. “Moving out, finding a new place, all the paperwork. It’s been a lot, but I should’ve kept up and I’m sorry.” Her lips purse in confusion. There’s a strain around her shoulders and you hate that this talk might be causing it, probably reminding her of her own divorce. “Did something happen at your old apartment? We don’t talk personal lives too much, but Robby would’ve mentioned a flood or something. Or did you guys finally get a bigger place?” The thought of that lightens her eyes, a rare smile you don’t see too much in the ER. Your heart sinks.

Robby didn’t tell her.

Of course, he left the hard stuff to you, once again. “Cass…” you trail off, unsure how to continue. Once again, you’re saved by an interruption. “What are you doing, robbing my best staff and not saying hi?” Dana appears, her short white-blond hair framing her face like a stern angel. You’ve haven’t seen her in a month and a half since she took some time off to deal with personal stuff after a particularly rough shift. She’s never been a big texter, so you anticipated more information at your future catch up, planned for next week. “I ran into one of the interns looking lost in the cafe over and simply had to help.” You tease. Your eyes meet hers but immediately look over her head, searching for him. Wherever she goes, he’s not far behind, always paying his dues in following her wisdom.

“He’s in Trauma 1, helping a drowning victim.” Fuck, you’re caught. Dana smirks at you like she’s inside your head. McKay’s eyes twinkle like there’s something romantic about to happen and you mourn the fact you’re about to give her yet another reason to not believe in a man, again. “I wasn’t looking for him, I was looking for Collins.�� You bite, ignoring how McKay’s confusion has reached an all time high to your right. To distract them both, you push the drink tray forward. “I think there’s a hazelnut latte somewhere in here for you, Ms. Busybody.” Dana narrows her eyes as she finds the drink you’re talking about, plucking it out with precision. One drink down, three to go and then you can leave. That intern, Dennis, is nowhere to be found. You’d leave the drinks on the desk, but you know that would be a hazard in so many ways. Plus, some person would probably grab a drink that’s not theirs and you can’t be responsible for pandemonium - you know what lack of caffeine can do to a healthcare worker. Thankfully, the white lids read their contents: black coffee, hot tea, and…hot chocolate? Maybe there’s a kid who needed some comfort.

“Do you know who the rest are for?” You question. Dana shrugs and you can sense some ulterior motive behind her eyes. “Sounds like a question for Whittaker.” That must be Dennis. In the crowd of gurneys and scrubs, you can’t seem to find him. “The hot tea is for Collins and the hot chocolate is for Javadi, one of the interns. Of course, you know who the black coffee is for.” Double fuck.

You had hoped it was someone else who had a taste for black sludge, but unfortunately only one doctor does. Cowardly, you turn to McKay and give her your best try of puppy dog eyes. “Do you mind passing these out?” She snorts, clearly amused. “As if I’m getting between you and Robby mid shift. I remember last October all too well.” You stiffen at the memory. Surprising the staff with pumpkin cookies you’d baked, shrieking when Robby had grabbed you by the hips and ordered you into an unused storage room. How McKay had opened the door (“looking for supplies, I swear I did not want to see any of that”) with your hand in your husband’s scrubs and your leg, chilly in a skirt for easy access, wrapped around his waist.

“I see Collins. It was nice seeing you, McKay.” It’s a rude goodbye, but you can’t stomach anything more. Collins’ signature red jacket is easy to spot as she comes out of one of the nearby rooms, conferring sternly with what seems to be another intern. They just keep multiplying.

“Like I told you, you wait for my instructions, you don’t just intubate because-“ Your eyes catch and the emotional weight around your shoulders sags a bit more. She sends the intern off with one more warning before greeting you with a slight smile. “I heard you needed a hot tea.” You brandish the drink tray like a shield. She takes the cup delicately, taking a small sip and sighing in delight. “I haven’t seen you in six months. Work trip or something? Robby’s been worse than usual.” He didn’t tell her either. It’s starting to look like the only people who know about your divorce are you, Robby, and Dana. It begs the question why, but you’re not strong enough to answer. You know Collins would be a good person to confide in, but you don’t want to drop a bomb on what looks like an exhausting day. Her outward mask might be tough, but once you got over the awkwardness of her being Robby’s long-ago fling, you’ve always been able to see right through it.

“Something like that. You okay?” You move her off to the side before she can get swept into another case. She gives you another one of those barely-there smiles, and you ache to think that she’s been struggling with something, maybe worse than you. Maybe she sees something reflected back, because in a rare move, she opens up. “I had a miscarriage a month ago.” On instinct, you find an empty chair to set the drink tray on before sweeping her in your arms. She doesn’t like to be touched by many, especially at work, but she makes an exception for you.

“Oh, Heather.” It’s all you can say. She doesn’t cry, too battle worn and aware of the eyes on her, but the breath she takes is a near thing. After a few seconds, she pulls back, tight lipped and eyes shining. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there, but this isn’t about me. Oh, honey.” You murmur. You squeeze her hand, trying to impress on her all the things you cannot say. Heather Collins doesn’t like empty platitudes, so you don’t try to give her any. For a second, she squeezes your hand back before her mask slides back into place. “Thank you. Robby’s been kind, let me go home early the day it happened and pick the best shifts. It seems he kept it secret, so I’m thankful.” You don’t mention that the last time you talked to him was six months ago in a lawyers office. You know Robby and even if you were still together, he would’ve taken this secret to the grave. One of the things you love about him.

She switches the topic to you, asking about your supposed trip, but a miracle, or rather a group of interns, rumbles past you. You might not be a doctor but they’re easy to spot, unsure or overconfident, spilling unhelpful advice like gospel. “Hey! Any of you Javadi?” You call out. The girl nearest you whips her head around like you just cursed her name. She looks barely past college, hair pulled back into a ponytail of midnight black. “Me. I- that’s me.” You bend down, plucking the hot chocolate out of its tray and handing it to her. Her eyes are bright and thankful, like it's a winning lottery ticket instead of a drink. “Thank you! I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, Doctor…”

“Robby!” The middle intern says, her posture stiff with self-confidence. “Um…” you trail off, looking to Collins for help before remembering she doesn’t know. “I heard Princess and Perlah talking. You’re Robby’s wife, right?” All you can do is gape at the gall of her, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Collins restrains a laugh, unhelpful, and the other interns are looking at you like you’ve hung the stars. What in the world do you-

“Indeed. Last time I checked, this was a hospital to learn, not gossip. Keep it moving, you three.” His voice is like melted honey, warm and gooey and too comforting to name. Collins mentions something about a patient, taking her leave with raised eyebrows. It’s hard, but you try not to acknowledge the voice behind you as you watch her walk away. Only when her red jacket disappears from view do you turn.

He doesn’t look good. It’s what you said you wanted, of course, but the truth is, you’re just concerned. There’s dark circles under his eyes, almost covered by those black rounded glasses of his. A few new grays grace the side of his head, stark against the rest of him. The wrinkles on his face make him look aged, not the wise wizard you forced him to be for Halloween a few years ago. His scruffy beard dots his jawline and the ache to feel it is so deep, you fear it’ll never leave.

“Hi.” You whisper shyly, a knock-kneed girl instead of the woman you are. He smiles that gentle smile of his, crow's feet unapologetic, and it seems to turn back time. Just yesterday, you might’ve been making dinner together or cuddling on the couch. “Hi. I heard you’ve got a drink for me?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you point to the chair in between you. Deft fingers find his cup and pull. It’s hard not to watch them work, not to trace the calluses and the nimble movements. “Since when do interns order you around?” He asks, taking a second to gulp down his coffee. You stare at the movement of his throat, so many dirty memories making themselves known in the back of your head. “I’ve been demoted, I guess.” It didn’t mean to come out like that but it’s clear that’s what he thinks, a sudden frown appearing on his face.

“Is something wrong? Some paperwork I need to sign?” He asks in a burst. Your stomach churns at the rejection and instinctively, you take a step back. He seems to try to follow you, but the leg of the chair stops him. “No, I just - It’s funny, I guess. I was at that new cafe across the street and ran into an intern who looked like he needed help and well, I figured it would be nice to see Cassie and Heather, so here I am.” You end your rant with a shrug, instantly regretting every decision that led you here. Of course you were going to run into him. There wasn’t any other path, not for you. And of course, he just thinks you’re here for paperwork. He’s clearly moved on, even if he looks like he’s hurting. It’s time you do to.

“Well, that’s all my drinks, so…” Trailing off, you look around desperately for help. The Pitt seems to be against you, everyone following their standard practice of leaving you two alone when all you want is to be away from him. “How are you?” He whispers like a secret, voice raspy but sure. Emotion swells in your sternum instantly at his question. Soft eyes take your awkwardness in stride as he steps around the chair until he’s on your left, back to the Pitt. The familiarity of it is like a bullet to chest. “I’m fine. You?”

Robby shrugs, letting you trace the lines of his shoulders under that familiar sweatshirt. "Rough couple of months, to be honest." You blink at his honesty. That same honesty that led to that fateful conversation - you'd served him the divorce papers, but he was the one to suggest lawyers and due process. The papers were meant to wake him up, make him realize how much he needed to fix this, but all they did was end things.

"I wanted to see you. Dana wouldn't give me your new address, something about not being ready. Plus, I think you blocked me," he laughs at himself like it's funny, what he's admitting. A thousand questions form, 'why' and 'when' and 'what'. You'd blocked him and deleted his number the moment the papers finalized, knowing you weren't strong enough to truly recover if you could talk to him. It looks like he didn't do the same, and a rare burst of hope shines through the fog that's made itself at home in your brain. You gape, no words coming to you.

One of those hands, strong and capable and not yours, raises to push his glasses up his nose. You freeze.

It's still there.

Three years ago, ring shopping to find a perfect band. He got a black plastic version as well, something he could wear to work without worrying about blood or a rogue patient. That same black band still graces his ring finger, a blaring alarm that things aren't what they seemed.

"Michael." There's nothing else to add, your eyes still trained on his hand. Of course, all-seeing as he is, he picks up on what you're looking at right away. He's quiet, face worn with contemplation. "Why?" You ask, voice wavering. Tears form in an instant, choking any air in your lungs. "I couldn't take it off," he admits, somber. You think of your own ring, tucked away in your new bedstand that you had to build yourself. "I don't understand," you rasp.

"Baby, I've been-"

"Robby, we need you!" A voice breaks through the bubble you're in. Without realizing, you've become almost nose-to-nose, curling your hands to your chest in an attempt to not touch him. He sighs, pulling back a little, and it's like losing the warmth of the sun. "You know where the staff lounge is?" He asks, smiling when you nod immediately. "Wait for me. I'll be there soon." He hands you his coffee and rips himself away, already reaching for a hand sanitizer station.

-

In the staff lounge, your book sits unopened on the table. It's hard to do when your mind won't stop whirling, wondering if you've gotten this all wrong. The door bursts open and you snap up, hopeful, only to shrink a little when you realize it's not him. You recover quickly, not wanting to seem rude in a place you're not supposed to be in. "Hi, Kiara." You've only met her once or twice, but she's the kind of comforting soul you'd remember. She gives you a smile and then beelines for the electric kettle in the back. "Mrs. Robby, how are you?" You gulp at her question, realizing your ex-husband truly told no one about his divorce. "I've been better, but nothing I can't handle. You?" It's hard not to be honest when she's so easy to talk to, pulling out a chair for her to wait for her kettle. "One of those days. A mother just lost her child, so I'm making her a hot tea." Despite the dark news, the tight-lipped smile she sends you seems genuine. You ask about the ER overall and she tells you about the mass-casualty event that happened last month. You know a bit from Jake's mom, checking in on him through her instead of wanting to bother a grieving teenager who'd already been frustrated about the divorce.

As the kettle finishes, the door bangs open again. This time it is Robby, who looks flustered but sends you a smile anyways. It's like licking a spoon of brownie batter - secretive and a little wrong, but delicious anyways. You shouldn't have waited, should've left when you could, but deep down you need your questions answered. Kiara passes him with a cup in her hands, whispering something into his ear as she leaves. "I will." Robby replies, making you frown at the secrecy. Usually, if they're discussing a patient, they'll do it in front of you without names. Whatever that was had to be personal, and you're too emotionally raw not to ask.

"What was that?" You mutter, a little unkindly. Robby takes a seat, and you push his coffee cup towards him. His knee taps yours in thanks and stays there, its presence bewildering but not unwelcome. "She told me to use the communication skills we've been talking about." A laugh bursts out of you and you regret it instantly, your knee pressing into his. "Since when do you have communication skills?" You chortle. That's one of the things he might have at work, but never in a relationship. It used to be a joke between you, how you had to pry his true feelings out of him at the beginning of your relationship, but it turned to bitter satire in the end.

A heavy hand lands on your thigh, burning its way through the thin fabric of your leggings. "I know my communication has been...lacking," you hold back a snort, "but after last month, I've been talking to Kiara. Seems like I should've been following my own advice all this time." He admits, squeezing your thigh at the end of his sentence. Wide-eyed shock works its way through your veins. He actually addressed the major reason you said you wanted a divorce. The contentment you feel is like a nugget of gold, there for you to hoard and keep safe from judgement.

"Robby, that's wonderful. I'm proud of you, really." You exclaim, finding his hand on your leg and covering it with your own. The silicone of his ring digs into your fingers, and you let it. "I like it better when you call me Michael." He confesses. His chair squeaks as he turns towards you, shifting positions until his knees bracket yours on either side. His free hand raises to cup your face, familiar fingers petting your hair and your skin.

"Why are you wearing your ring, Michael?" You blurt, the need for his answer too great to hold back. Your ex-husband sighs, leaning forward until his face is all you see. On instinct, you reach out to take off his glasses and set them on the table. He always complained they hurt his nose, so he only wears them when reading. You brush the imprint left behind, smoothing down red marks and tracing the places you used to kiss every morning.

"You're still the love of my life, sweetheart." He confesses as you stiffen. He takes the lead, guiding you out of the chair and onto the worn couch on the far side of the room. It's easier to sink into his hold here, your face and your heart in the palms of his hands. Yells echo through the door, giving you an out to slide back and interrogate.

"That's how you treat the love of your life? You barely talked to me for months, Robby. You refused to go to therapy or marriage counseling and..." What you leave unsaid is too hurtful to bare. An old insecurity that was watered by months of loneliness, Robby picking up shifts to skip out on weekends together. "And what, baby? Don't hold back now." He practically demands, tugging your legs into his lap so you're under the full force of his stare. "And you started skipping weekends with me. Taking shifts when we were supposed to go on dates. Smelling different, like perfume instead of disinfectant." You whisper the last part, staring at your hands in your lap.

He laughs. An actual laugh.

You try to push off of him, but he tugs you until all the fight drains out. "I really fucked this up, haven't I?" He states. Robby almost never swears, so the use of one makes you pay attention. "Will you stop being an asshole and tell me what you mean?" You pout, upset that your emotions are getting brushed off. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip that juts out, tucking it back until he touches your teeth. "Detergent, baby, I swear. They found some awful cheap laundry detergent for our scrubs. I had some bad luck for weeks, fluids on me every day." He reasons, but you refuse to believe it. He knows you too well, of course. Robby tilts your chin until your eyes catch on a box of Rose Detergent for Hospitals, Clinics, and More near the trash can.

"This is what I mean, Michael! This kind of shit was in my head for months but I couldn't talk to you." He sobers instantly, that constant forlorn expression of his making itself known on his face. Robby interlaces your hands, laying his in your lap. Against your will, it grounds you. "The administration had wanted me to do a post-COVID remembrance for all the workers we lost and I just couldn't. Couldn't look at you without being reminded that I lived when so many better people died. I felt like I didn't deserve our happiness, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry." Only when he brushes your face do you realize it's wet. This is what you wanted for months, to hear the thoughts in his head instead of his sarcastic quips or his no-nonsense tone. This was your husband.

He held you to his chest, letting you calm down to the sound of his heartbeat. There's a compulsion under your skin, wanting to bind you two together until you don't know where you end and he begins. Ambulance sirens and pattering footsteps and shouts of pain all fade away when you work your hands through his scruffy beard, admiring the glints of silver that show here and there. "You might be a doctor, but you're an idiot." He nods, letting you curl further into him. "I don't regret divorcing you, because I am not doing your emotional labor for you." Another nod, this one shorter and more serious. "But I'm willing to try again, if you want to. The right way, where we go to counseling and actually talk." Finally, a grin. It changes his entire face, muscle and sinew rearranging into the man you once knew.

He doesn't have to answer. His kiss does it for him.

It's soft and tentative, barely there. A surge of anger sinks through you at how utterly bull-headed he's been. You push into him until his back hits the sofa, climbing him until your pelvises meet in a kiss. You pour months of resentment into your kiss and he meets you halfway, muscles under you tensing as you clash. "You asked to get lawyers." You bite his jaw as you say it, a fact you've been stewing over. "Wanted to make sure you got my money." He squeezes your ass, pulling you into him until you roll your hips over his cock, barely contained by his scrubs. This isn't the place for your first recoupling, but with how the couch is out of the way of the window over the door, and that no one seems to be looking for him, it'll do for now.

"Such a stubborn old man." You gripe, then gasp as he nips your neck. Robby lays kisses to your jaw, trailing down to your neck and sucking hard like a teenager. Broad hands urge your hips to grind, fucking yourself in his lap as you chase satisfaction. It's been so long since you've had an orgasm, every attempt reminding you of Robby. "Pretty sure you used to call me something else, baby." He mutters, one hand leaving your waist to sneak under your sweater. He finds your nipples hardened and achy, pulling one out of your bra cup and rolling it between his fingers. "I only call my husband that." You whine as your clit hits just the right angle of his clothed cock, bucking faster in his lap.

"Everyone around here knows you as my wife." He shoots back, pinching your nipple to emphasize his point. You find the crook of his neck and lay your forehead there, panting as your thighs burn with their ministrations. His hand on your waist flattens, fingers inching closer to your front but not where you need them. It's clear he's waiting for something, his thumb tracing the outline of your panties as he stays there. The longing to give in is too great.

"Please, Daddy. I need to come." You moan, not letting shame make its way into your head. You can feel him grin against you as his thumb finds your clothed clit, rubbing small circles as you keep bucking. It's what you needed, release creeping over you until you collapse in his arms. He moves his hips a few times into you until you complain of overstimulation.

"Think I just came in my pants." He mutters as you pull back. Giggles erupt from you, turning into snorts as you take in the pained expression on his face. Dr. Michael Robinavitch, coming in his pants like a teenager as his wife straddles him.

"Good thing they have scrubs. And a new rose detergent, I heard." You sass, squealing as he pinches your nipple, still cupped in his hand. He rights your clothing as you calm down, tucking your bra back in place and untwisting your leggings. "You're lucky I love you." He pecks your forehead before resting his own against it. You close your eyes in satisfaction, relieved to have filled this year-old hole in your heart. "I love you too, Michael." Your breaths mingle for a few moments, peace in the middle of the most unpeaceful place in Pittsburg.

Someone bangs on the door. Dana smirks at both of you like she predicted this was coming. "Two GSW's on the way, five minutes." You both sigh at getting caught, yet again. At least it was Dana. "Just enough time to get new scrubs." You cheer. He laughs, moving you both to a standing position before pecking your forehead again. "Put your address in my phone." He orders, fishing out his phone from where it fell into the couch cushions. "So forward, Doctor." You laugh as you type into his familiar phone. "I'll be over with takeout around 7:30, Mrs. Robinavitch." You grin.

"With your luck, it'll be 8 o'clock."

"Will you still wait?"

"Always."

-

this got away from me but wow it was necessary

[sugarushwriting]

cherry popper x stray kids

inspired by my cherry popper series with enhypen hyung line

just a drabble!!!

adult content featured, read at your own discretion.

if you want any of the following to become one shots/longer post, let me know!

bang chan: it’ll happen late at night. bang chan will talk you through it for sure. he’s also the type to give praise.

he’ll try so hard to not be rough, and to be gentle with you for your first time. he’ll take good care of you. after the first few times, he becomes mean racha.

minho: it’ll happen early in the morning. he seems calm on the outside, but a nervous wreck on the inside. he doesn’t want to hurt you, even by accident.

he will ask that you let him know with words what feels good and doesn’t.

changbin: binnie boy — i see it happening after a gym session. he looks so good you can’t help it. he’s calm and confident. reassuring throughout.

he’ll ask you to grip his biceps and leave marks. he’ll beg you to leave marks. also part of mean racha after your first few times.

hyunjin: definitely cool and smooth on the outside, but completely a nervous wreck on the inside. mainly because he’s trying so hard to be smooth, he ends up being clumsy.

it’ll be late at night, a few hiccups, but he’ll take care of you. type to moan and give you praise.

jisung: opposite of hyunjin—shy on the outside but completely relaxed and confident on the inside. so smooth with his moves and all.

you’re surprised how smooth he is as he’s typically so clumsy and shy.

felix: he’s involving toys. maybe even food. he wants your first time to be extremely sensual, involving some of your senses too. his stamina will have him treating you well for hours.

low groans—growls. i don’t think he’s loud in bed. he rather you be loud. definitely calling you angel.

seungmin: idc, he’s a big nerd/puppy in bed. most likely will happen after a vocal lesson of his. he just wants your first to be a good time. not rough or mean, honestly a big softy for you and only you.

quiet at first, but becomes louder closer to the end.

jeongin: rather not be the one to take your virginity, but is actually honored. can happen during a movie or date night. he’s giggly during most of it, until he’s not, completely entranced by you.

low moaner and quiet too. scared he’ll hurt you, you’ll have to reassure him.

[berracids]

anything w bumblebee pls idc

AN: I love anyone that loves bumblebee so here is a Drabble I like to imagine, I had the bay ver in mind but this could work with any continuity where he doesn’t talk

AN: this could be considered a sequel to other bumblebee HC or as a standalone

Bumblebee’s yapping on mute

Warning: cussing (does that even need a warning?)

Despite Bee not having a voice to word what he wants, he is very much capable of showing it damn well too, and the mech has no problem if it includes throwing servos to prove a point

In which were most of your quarrels with him stem from, is that he is too comfortable into making people learn their lesson through a good ol’ aft whooping

Like when bumblebee spots one of your bullies’s car, he makes it his life’s mission to avenge you, even if you will reprimand him and giving him an hour long lecture on how he could’ve been caught or worse the government could take him away from you and hurt him.

But does the yellow scout yield or back out?, no, he will gut the motor from your bully’s brand new sports car, drive back to your house late at night as he taps on your window with his excited beeping and whirring and treat it like some crumbled paper ball as he plays with it with his pedes as makes sure that you are watching and cheering for him (you are not)

“Bee!, what did you just do?!” You half yelled as you didn’t want to wake up the whole block for screaming at bumblebee at how he just so casually committed vandalism, only to be met with an optic roll and an annoyed beep from him; be tried to excuse himself by playing snippets from the radio that say that he made your bully payback for throwing their sandwich at him when you two were driving casually “yes, I know you did that for me and I appreciate it, but TAKING OUT HIS MOTOR?!, I was planning to egg his car not gut it!”

As you were reprimanding the 15 feet tall robot as you continues to roll his optics and beep at you annoyed as you can feel him saying that your bully did not just disrespect you but he also dirtied his finish, and bumblebee doesn’t let anything of that sorts slide and that you should know that by now, “fine you may be right egging his car isn’t enough, maybe I would have keyed it if you didn’t act on your own!”

Bee then continues to beep and whirr for the next few minutes as you can make out most of what he is saying from his body language and the radio snippets, the scout was grateful to have a human partner like you who understood him even without the radio snippets at least not as much and making him feel heard and acknowledged

That is why bumblebee couldn’t allow anyone to wrong you, what guardian would he be if his duty isn’t protecting you like he is supposed to?, “thank you Bumblebee, I appreciate you going through all that trouble,…truly..” your gratitude reached is audio receptors making him stop in his tracks and press breaks as his blue optics look at your smiley face, he then waves his servo at you while whirring bashfully as he ‘says’ that it is nothing.

The yellow autobot’s servo reaches it’s way to you and wrapping around your torso before placing you gently on the ground as he wastes no time transforming into his vehicle mode and opening the door for you with an excited beep, wanting to go on a quick ride in the middle of the night, Bee chooses a snippet on the radio that tells you to hop in, and you do so, not having the heart to tell bumblebee that you have classes in the early morning and that you won’t be able to sleep before that,

Sleep could come any other time, as long as bumblebee isn’t doing donuts with you inside of him and making you dizzy at 4am in the morning as the sound of screeching tires rack your eardrums

⌗𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴-𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 @berracids

[awarnin]

can i request literally just anything written for cole… idc what you’re the only wallows writer ive been able to find and im starving for cole content 😭

Dating Cole Preston | HEADCANONS

warning: none

author's note: THANKS FOR YOUR REQUEST!! I wrote these headcanons because I thought it was something very general and you might like it, I hope you do!!! Lmk your opinion <3

_

Cole is a very sweet boyfriend, little impromptu dates during the week when you two have a little free time.

A very organized person, with clear goals and objectives. He will make it clear to you what he wants for your relationship from the beginning.

I don't think he's thinking about marriage, a long-term relationship is what he wants.

Quality time is definitely his love language, he likes spending time with you, from going for a walk together in the mornings to talking for hours during the early hours.

He will definitely persuade you to play video games with him, if you don't understand them he will take the time to explain in detail how it works, and he will let you win the first few times. Only the first few times, he has a competitive spirit.

He likes to wear matching outfits with you, combine colors or textures, he thinks he's very cool.

He is a very romantic person behind closed doors, he will definitely hug you and kiss you in front of other people, but he will open up much more to you when you are alone. Sweet words every day, repeating how much he loves you.

I can imagine him laying on your chest at night just scrolling through Tiktok for hours with you, enjoying your company.

He's a very good listener, you can talk to him for hours and he'll remember every word, nothing will ever come out of his mouth.

He will take photos of you at .5x always, like, always.

He'll definitely write songs about you, little tunes that make him think about your relationship. He'll feel a little embarrassed for you to hear them at first, even though you love them.

He'll never get angry, he's anxious, and a little awkward at times, but he's a very patient person and prefers to talk to you about the problems you have before anything else.

He's a little bit jealous, nothing exaggerated, and it'll never be your fault, he's a little insecure, even though you make it clear that you love him and he's enough.

_

[peterparkersnose]

I Need You More Than I Wanted To

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: needy din, lowkey out of character but idc, pining possibly one sided, lots of begging, angst, description of y/n’s body, masturbation reference if you squint HARD, sappy speeches at the end, arguing, lots of angst (bc angst is my favorite)

a/n i’ve had this idea in my drafts for MONTHS so i’m so happy i’ve gotten around to writing it.

summary Y/N overhears a damaging conversation between Din and Greef Karga

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read time: 11 mins 8 seconds

Din’s heart ached like no other watching you these past few days. The silent suffering, the longing, and the pain he has been observing was hard to watch; the hardest part was that he was the reason for this.

He knew you like the back of his hand. For years the two of you have been traveling the galaxy, searching for as many credits as possible and managing to have a fun time while doing it. Living life with you is how Din preferred it. It was carefree. The two of you made a great team and wanted to live lavishly one day. That was the dream, at least. The two of you saved credits like crazy, but it never seemed to be enough to purchase a palace. Once the kid came along everything changed. The sudden dream of living large seemed to fade over the horizon. Something clicked. The two of you were now parents.

When Greef mentioned to him about you when the two of you visited the new Nevarro, Din was sure he was just messing with him.

“Are you two finally together?”

The question confused Din.

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Din was shocked. Had he really been that clueless?

“That’s impossible,” Din responded. Greef laughed. “You're telling me that if she made the first move, you wouldn’t reciprocate it?”

A strict “No” came from Din. “Never.”

The child cooed and the two men turned around. There you stood in the doorway, waiting for them to finish their conversation. The exact conversation you had just overheard.

Your mouth slightly dropped. The expression on your face was shocked. You quickly blinked and closed your mouth, trying to mask your disappointment. But Din knew. Maybe it was enough to fool Greef Karga, but Din knew he had just hurt the person he cared for the most deeply.

“H-he wanted you,” you said silently, not expecting your voice to quiver. You set down Grogu on the red velvet couch. Din nodded. Your lip quivered as you stared at him through the visor in pure shock. With hurt in your eyes, you excused yourself to the shared quarters the two of you were given for the time of your stay.

“And that…” Greef began. Din scooped up Grogu in his arms. Grogu made a noise and grunted, seemingly wanting to now leave his father and attend to his heartbroken mother. He squirmed in Din’s arms until he let him down.

“That was the look of heartbreak.”

The next few days on Nevarro were filled with a cold distance. Neither you nor Din wanted to discuss the elephant in the room. Simple words were exchanged in the interest of the child, but that was about it.

It was your last night on Nevarro.

Din had been at the cantina with Greef Karga and some of his associates, celebrating the newly liberated Nevarro. You had gone to bed early, staying with Grogu.

You were surprised Din even agreed to go out, he hated outings such as drinking with friends. If things weren’t so heated at the moment, he would have much rather preferred a night staying in with you and watching some stupid show on your datapad and eating whatever your heart desired.

The sun had been set for hours. You were lounging in your satin red sleep robe that was complimentary given to you upon your arrival. The beautiful braid you had your hair up in all day was now gone, your hair was curled due to the all-day friction. The ladies assigned to your care were more than delightful. With the satin robes and braids you could never master, it was like you never wanted to leave. You lay on the king-sized bed you had been giving to Din the last few nights. The couch was beginning to hurt your back, and he was nowhere to be found. 

Grogu, still not asleep, was patting the lavish sheets with his hands. You smiled, watching the curious creature discover the new textures. Your eyes wandered to the marvelous carvings coated in gold paint that covered the pillars in your room. Eyes beginning to droop, you were suddenly awoken by a cold hand on your exposed thigh. 

“Buir!” he squealed. Recognizing the Mando’a right away, your thinned-lip smile turned into a frown. “I know,” you sighed, extending your hand towards the child and brushing the top of his head. “He’ll be back soon.”

Grogu crawled up your legs and onto your torso. Grogu began grabbing some of the strands of hair that lay on your chest, you slowly separated his hands from the grasp. “Good job on speaking, buddy.” you smiled, now sitting against the bedframe. Grogu sat in your lap, reaching for your hair once again. A genuine smile arose on your face as you watched your son rest in your lap. The thought of Din left your mind, but only temporarily. He seemed to haunt your dreams as he haunted your days. You fell asleep with Grogu in your lap. 

Din’s clanky armor trudged up the many stairs to the guest bedroom. It was almost like a full workout, he was ready to get into the shower and then get into bed. 

Din absolutely hated his time out; barely being able to sip his drink and listening to the arguing of men about topics he didn't even care about was not his idea of a good night. He didn't want to admit it though—he yearned to spend the night with you. You consumed his every thought, and with every sip of his strong alcohol, he just kept feeling worse and worse. The image of your face re played in his head all week. With the disappointment and hurt he never wanted to inflict on you, the guilt was building up in his stomach like no other. 

Slowly, his ungloved hand waved against the sensor. The door whirred open. Din hoped he didn’t wake you, it was already almost morning, even though the sunrise was hours away. He could hear the morning bugs begin to chirp on his way home. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he set his helmet down on the chair in the corner. He turned around to find you- his heart seemed to skip a beat. 

Laying in the silk robe you were gifted, your legs were parted awkwardly as you slept. You lay on your stomach with your face delved in a pillow. The slow movement of your back going up and down gave Din the confidence that you were okay. One arm lay at your side, the other cradled Grogu against your waist. His breath finally caught up with him once he realized he had been staring for too long. 

The only thing he could seem to think about in his shower was his best friend. The woman who had always been there for him. She was merely a partner until Greef suggested otherwise. The thought of even diving into anything romantic with you never crossed Din’s mind until then. His hand held his seemingly limp body on the wall, holding him upwards as the water washed over him. The thought of you sprawled out on the bed, on his bed was just… 

The thought went straight to his head, making him feel emotions for you he never had before. Your body, the way you lay, how you were protecting his son even in slumber. Everything about you seemed so appealing in a way Din had never felt for another woman. 

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Greef’s voice haunted Din’s mind as he slept. He woke up gasping for air on the couch. You turned to look at him but only for a moment. You made eye contact. It was rare you saw him without his helmet, and even rarer to make complete eye contact. Din wasn’t one for eye contact. Looking down, you continued to fold Grogu’s extra robes that were freshly cleaned and delivered to your room earlier this morning. You were packing to leave. 

Din sat upright, his hand holding his forehead. His head was pounding. Looking up, he noticed a glass of water and a few pills sitting on the table in front of him. Presumably set up for him, by you. His heart sank. Even in pain, you somehow still cared for him. He turned to look at you again. You were still getting Grogu ready to leave. He was jumping on the bed, making gargling noises as you tried to dress him. Din took the pills and finished the water and set the glass down with a clank, so you knew he had seen your gesture. 

“What time are we leaving?” he asked, standing up to finish his packing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; his hair was disheveled and he was in need of a shave. He ran a hand over the patchy stubble on his cheeks. To his surprise, his bag was sitting packed on the same chair where he rested his helmet last night. His helmet was sitting on top of the bag. 

You sighed. “Din,” you croaked, saying his name for the first time in days. He looked over at you. The same pain was there, but the look of exhaustion followed it. “I-I’m not going.” 

His brows raised. A slight panic set in. “What do you mean, your not going?” he asked in a more hostile tone than needed. You drew in a sharp breath and looked back at the same gold detailing you were looking at the night before. “Grogu is packed,” you simply said, scooping the child up in your arms. He squealed at your embrace, cuddling up in your arms. It was the last time you were going to be with Grogu, at least for a while. “Greef invited us to breakfast,” you said, swiftly walking past Din to the door. Your attempt to leave was unsuccessful.

Din grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Grogu let out a whine, as he was shuffled in the hassle. No words had to be said, the stares you were giving each other were enough. Din tilted his head slightly. The feeling of you was slipping through his fingers. Memories of you two fighting bounties, saving credits for a future, and then raising Grogu together hurt him more than ever. You were already too far gone. He had done damage that seemed irreversible.

A single tear rolled down your face. 

It was never meant to go this far. 

“Let me go,” you begged. Din didn’t realize his grasp on you was getting tighter as the seconds went by. “I don’t want to,” he whispered, closer to a mumble.

With reluctance, he let go of your arm. 

“What about the villa?” he called after you as you were about to exit the room. You stopped cold in your tracts. “Don’t bring up the villa-” you scolded him, turning around. The once-thought dream of living lavishly with Din, as a retired pair on a fancy planet scorned your broken heart. “You're really just going to leave? After everything?” he asked.

“You were my everything.” you bitterly cried out. Grogu squirmed in your arms. You sat him down on the bed.

Those words punched through Din like a thousand knives. “I didn’t mean-”

“Then what did you mean?” you ask, approaching Din. “I heard your conversation loud and clear, Din. I understand your intentions.”

“Y/N I had no clue,” he tried to defend himself. “Liar!” you screamed. Din was taken aback by your anger and took a few steps back. “I have spent the last many years of my life following you around blindly. We lived together, slept in the same bed, shared meals, shared laughs, and now share a child! I held you during cold nights! I saw your face, we’ve seen each other nude more times than I can count, you cared for me when I got hurt on that one mission to Tatooine. You cared for me while my leg was broken and I was helpless. We were everything without a title, Din! There is no way you never saw or felt anything. I simply don’t believe it. I can’t believe I thought I could see the true heart of a cold, selfish Mandalorian.”

Din was almost at a loss for words. He stood for a moment, finding words to say as he watched you realize every single word you had just spewed out at him. Your hand began to shake as you sat down, covering your mouth and staring at the carpet with wide eyes.

“Do you think I chose this? This is how I was raised, Y/N!” he argues. Your gaze moved from the carpet and back to Din. “I cannot take a spouse unless they are a Mandalorian, you know this,” Din begged, grasping for straws. He wanted you more badly than anything else in the world, but the creed that was so deeply indoctrinated in him was fighting the feelings.

“Blinded by your creed.” you spat out. Din seethed. The creed he was in the process of abandoning anyways. 

“Why do you think I’m leaving it?” he blurted out. He didn’t want to admit it, but he said it out loud. Never had he ever admitted before to himself, let alone another person that he was done with his origins. The religion he was raised in, the culture that had brought him in and saved his life was now being thrown out… but for what? The convincing Bo-Katan did and saving him from this cult-like creed saved his life, truly deep down. Even if the efforts were small, they awoke something in Din. But was he really ready to shun his culture completely? Din never really came to terms with it, I guess, until now. 

“You have hurt me deeply, Din Djarin,” you said with your lip quivering, stating your final words. With that, you took Grogu and went to breakfast. You knew using his full, true name always hit him in a spot where it hurt most.

As you were about to walk down the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, you heard your name being called clearly from the other side of the hall. You turned around, seeing Din jogging down the hall to you.

“Din! Your helmet,” you cried out. He had left the room without it. As he only trusted you and Grogu to see his natural face, anyone who he didn’t trust could turn him into the leaders of his clan. It touched him that you seemed to care for him on some level to still care about his helmet insecurities.

Then again, the reigns the creed held on him were loosening day by day.

“Wait,” he said, huffing as he approached you. “Please.”

“I want to go eat breakfast,” you said sternly.

Din’s arms loosely fell over your figure, his hands slowly touching your arms as they cradled Grogu.

“Don’t go,” he begged.

You looked up into his glossy eyes. Often you would forget how much taller he was than you. Sighing, you looked away.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

Din’s knees seemed to collapse under him. He gave in to the buckling of his kneecaps and grabbed both of your hands, begging on his knees for you.

“To live all these years blindly, to not see what was truly in front of me will haunt me for the rest of my days. I am lost without you. Like a galaxy without stars, I am incomplete. I hope you can forgive me for my foolish words, I did not know what I was saying. You are everything to me. The mother of my child, my partner in crime, my light in the dark, my moon to guide me at night, my motivation, my companion, my love. Please forgive me. I need you to stay. You are all I have, you are all I need. A life without you is not worth living.”

To end his plea, he kissed your hands and wept.

Your right hand moved from his grasp to cup his cheek. It was wet with tears. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, wiping a tear away. “Din please,” you said, tearing up as you watched him sit and beg for you.

As his were moments before, your knees seemed to fail you and you joined him on the ground. Your hands grasped his hair as you engulfed the sobbing man in a hug. The soothing sounds of you shushing him like a baby filled the empty hallway.

“I won’t leave, I promise,” you whispered. This seemed to only make him cry harder. The realization Din had of how lucky he was and how close he was to losing you terrified him.

You would have never thought that you would be holding a sobbing Mandalorian. This was living proof of how much he loved and adored you. “H-how could you ever forgive me?” he asked, looking up into your gaze.

“I already have, my love.”

And with that, the two of you delved into your first kiss. It was wet and filled with passion, but also had a theme of hesitation from the two of you.

In all honesty, it was Din’s first kiss ever.

He moved his lips against yours, following your lead. The passion that moved between the two of you was something you had never felt with anyone else before. His hands wandered to your waist as he feverishly begged for more, but knew the limits of the setting the two of you were in.

Moments before the inevitable breakaway, your kiss was interrupted with a cool paw on your leg and a “Patu”

You rocked back on your legs to see the tiny green baby looking angrily at the two of you. A small laugh came from you and Din as he picked Grogu up and fixed his robes.

“Go get fixed up,” you said sweetly, kissing Din on the cheek. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“One question?” he asked, just as you were standing up to leave.

“What time are we leaving?”

“12.” you smiled, ruffling his already messy hair.

-

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise @mxtokko

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[archangeldyke-all]

this with blue collar butch!Sevika 🥹👁️👁️

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNAM4RrN/

this is too fucking cute i know i've already done like two stories about this exact same thing but idc it's SO SWEET

men and minors dni

most mornings, you wake up alone.

sevika's shifts start in the early morning, whereas yours start at a more reasonable hour. she usually sneaks out of bed and the house hours before you even begin to stir.

and then, usually when you do wake up, you're in a mad dash to leave the house on time.

this morning though, you woke up about an hour before your alarm's was meant to go off.

you groan and flop on your side, trying for a few minutes to go back to sleep, only to give up five minutes later and smack the bedside table for your phone.

you read the news, catch up on emails.

you've only got one new text-- the same text that greets you most mornings: 'good morning love. left breakfast in the fridge for you. thinking pizza for dinner tonight? xoxo 💐💍 -s'

you smile big and bright like you do every morning, then jump out of bed to the kitchen, excited to see what sevika's made for breakfast and give her your compliments over text.

only, as you run into the kitchen, your eyes catch on sevika's lunch pail and her travel coffee mug resting on the counter.

you realize now why your body so stubbornly refused to go back to bed for an hour: some subconscious part of you must've known sevika would need your rescue this morning. (sevika swears that since you've been married you've developed some kind of couple-telepathy-- both of you are always supernaturally aware of the state the other is in, without having to even see each other.)

you decide to surprise her, dressing and eating quickly, withholding your usual lovey-dovey texts to her in exchange for the real life smooches you'll soon be pressing on your wife's cheek.

you love seeing sevika at work. she looks so fucking handsome in her uniform, her co-workers adore you, and the brilliant, surprised smile you pull out of her when you drop in to check on her always gives you butterflies.

you slip in through the front door, waving at thieram where he's talking on the phone behind the front desk. he grins, gestures to the break room, and winks at you.

it looks like they're in their morning meeting, silco and vander standing at the front of the room and reading off clipboards while sevika, ran and the rest of the boys fidget in their seats.

when you peek your head in, all the heads swivel to the back of the room to gawk at you. laughter and greetings erupt, and sevika's face breaks into that glorious shy smile of hers as she leaps out of her chair and runs over to you.

"baby, what're you doin' here?" sevika asks, pulling you in for a kiss before you can respond. you giggle against her lips, then reveal her lunch and coffee to her.

"you forgot somethin'. think our weird psychic link woke me up to make sure i could get you your food before work." you tease. sevika blinks down at her lunch pail and coffee cup like you've just handed her keys to a new car. you giggle, and kiss her cheek. "breakfast was delicious by the way."

"i love you so fuckin' much." sevika whispers, blinking back up at you. you smile, and sevika shoots forward, kissing you passionately in the doorframe.

her co-workers burst into cat-calls and laughter, and silco clears his throat from the front of the room.

sevika pulls away with a bright red blush, but she doesn't take her eyes off of you as she walks backwards back toward her seat. she bumps into lock. he shoves her away, and she stumbles a bit, giggling but still staring at you as she flops back into her chair.

you blow her a kiss, wink, and let the door close.

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[writeoffside]

DOCUMENTS AND DESTINIES, part four

♯ battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader - 4/?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE

summary: Continuation of Documents and Destinies — Your job is gone. Or is it? Bruce Wayne has another trick up his sleeve, which leads you two to meet once again. Late night meeting ends with another fight in the dark underground of Gotham City.

warnings: violence, swearing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: a quick pause. i know it's been few months but here is another chapterrrr!!!! so sorrry for keeping u waiting lol enjOYYYY :DD

Weekends are the relaxing days of the week. Or that's what most of people say.

So, why were you perched on top of your kitchen counter, staring blankly at the paper full of words at seven o'clock in the morning? In front of you, on the dining table, were sprawled multiple folders, papers and other items. One of your knees is bend and your chin is put on top of it. The other one is hanging off the counter. Your eyes are hooded with dark colored circles underneath them. Tired from the previous night, which has ended pretty early for you. Considering your friends have left the lounge at nearly three in the morning, you're pretty much questioning if they're even awake at this hour.

The weather outside has changed much since yesterday. The soft breeze has turned into full day rain, with temperature going down. The singular coat turned into multiple layers and the heels into boots. Gotham's weather is definitely something else. Nothing predictable.

The fruit tea —which you have no idea you had in your kitchen cabinet— is sitting next to you with its steam going up, warming the space around you. The smell is probably the nicest thing amongst the dark space around you.

The words on the paper are blurry and you are no longer understanding the sentences written there. Your mind is stuck somewhere else. Far away.

The quietness of the apartment is interrupted with a sudden ringing of your phone.

Your head shots up as the sound rings out. You look around to spot the ringing phone, which is nowhere nearby. You jump off the counter and walk towards your bedroom, where it most likely is on top of your nightstand, still charging it's battery from the previous night. It's most likely been on hundred percent for past few hours but that doesn't matter to you. The phone itself is not something expensive, or rather modern. It's living on its last few years. Who knows if months or weeks. The screen is cracked, the storage is full. You don't even know what is keeping up the storage full. The camera quality is nothing good.

But it's yours. And it's usable.

The ringing stops as you enter the bedroom and a ping! sound comes through, meaning they now have send you a message. Another ping! sound comes through as you near the phone.

You finally get to the phone and plug it off the charger to pick it up.

'one missed call from ANGIE'

You read the missed call notification on your screen. Then swipe up to see the other two messages which were left.

'ANGIE - pls come to the coffee shop at 5th avenue !!!!! the one where they serve grass tasting matcha'

'ANGIE - ASAP !!!! idc if you're sleeping'

"Do you realize that it's not even eight yet?" You mutter as you slide into the booth in the coffee shop your friend called you to meet at.

"And do you realize that you no longer need to work?" He grins at you as you sit down opposite him. His hair is sticking to sides, his glasses perched on top of his nose.

That sentence sparks an interest and your eyes meets his blue ones.

"What?" You laugh out as you reach for the tea and croissant, that he's ordered for you before you arrived.

"Well, your prince charming, the one who's 'just a client', has bought our work building... And the whole company," he grins widens, his glasses sliding even lower on his nose.

"Bruce Wayne has bought our shit-ass company?" Your jaw drops as you process his words, "am I now fucking jobless?"

"Well, kind of? You don't have the job, but the man has given every single one of us double of our salary." He shrugs and takes his tea, and sips it.

Your hands come down against the table, your jaw dropping and eyes widening, "are you fucking joking?"

Few people from the nearby tables turn to you with nasty look on their faces, some of them shushing you. Angie looks at them at mouths them a little 'sorry!'

"What... What am I supposed to do now? Just sit at home and… watch some shitty show with my doubled salary in my bank account?" You whisper-shout at the man in front of you.

Angie smirks, clearly enjoying your spiraling reaction. “Well, you could always be watching that TV show with no money, but now you got twice your paycheck," he leans back into the booth chair, "But no, seriously, we all got personal emails this morning. Some of us are being reassigned. Others are being let go. And then there’s you, princess."

"What's up with me?" You roll your eyes.

Angie leans forward, lowering his voice. “You’ve been specifically asked to attend a meeting. With him.”

Your jaw drops at that.

Angie chuckles, "Doesn't it seem like maybe your little client has been paying more attention to you than you realized?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands.

"Yeah, because that’s exactly what I need in my life. A brooding, mysterious billionaire with a secret agenda. Sounds super cool.” You groan once again, staring at the friend. He's grinning, twirling the little cup of tea in his hand.

Before Angie can respond with another sneaky remark, your phone vibrates on the table. Both of you glance at the screen.

'Wayne Enterprises. Meeting Confirmation: 4 PM. Wayne Tower.'

You stop breathing and your heart skips a beat. It's all coming crashing onto you.

You lift your head back up and glance at the friend in front of you, who's now grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"Don't even—"

"Oh, girl!" He giggles like a stupid school girl.

You stand in your bedroom, staring at your wardrobe as the gravity of the situation sinks in. Meeting Bruce Wayne wasn’t something you had mentally prepared for when you rolled out of bed this morning.

"This is fucking ridiculous,” you mutter, flipping through hangers of blouses, blazers, skirts and different types of clothing you have there. You can't seem to pick one out.

You groan and pull out the sleek white button-down shirt. Then you bend down to pick out the trousers. Jeans are rather long and the ends of it are tearing, as you've stepped on it multiple times than you can count. You rather pick a high-waisted black trousers. Basic ones. But good ones. Few of accessories to add and the coat with boots, as the Gotham's weather is never predictable.

While you dress up, you're thinking of the times you've met Bruce. Twice. Once when he asked for the archive keys, the time when he drove you home, and when he returned them.

"Okay, alright," you give yourself a once-over in the mirror. Looking at yourself from all sides.

You quickly grab your bag and slide in a few essentials, which will be most likely needed in the meeting. Grabbing your coat and slipping on your boots, you're walking out of the apartment and going down the building.

You tightened your grip on your bag and step out of your apartment building, bracing yourself against the gust of wind that whipped through. The rain fell in a steady, relentless rhythm, bouncing off the concrete. You sigh and pop open your umbrella, its frame creaking against the force of the wind. Making your way to the subway station, a few blocks away, to get to the Wayne Tower.

By the time you reached the subway entrance, your boots were damp. You descended the stairs, the sounds of the city fading into the muffled roar of the subway below the city.

A distant rumble signaled the arrival of the train. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, watching as the train emerged from the dark tunnel in a blur of graffiti-streaked silver. The brakes screeched, and the doors hissed open.

The time went by quickly. You had a seat thankfully, so you didn't have to stand the whole ride.

The train slowed again, the automated voice announcing your stop. You straightened up, gripping the pole until the train came to a complete halt. The doors slid open, you jumped through the mass of people and went up the stairs, out of the subway station.

You adjusted your umbrella, taking a steadying breath as Wayne Tower came into view, its gleaming facade towering above the rest of the city like a fortress.

Each step toward the building felt heavier than the last.

"That's... it," you whispered to yourself as you eyes the towering building in front of you.

You walked up the stairs to the entrance door and the warmth of Wayne Tower’s lobby enveloped you immediately. A stark contrast to the damp chill outside

You push the silver button to ring the doorbell to be let inside.

The speaker crackled, then buzzed, before a voice broke through. An older voice.

"Hello. May I help you?" The older voice with an english accent spoke through.

"I—I’m heading to Wayne Tower for a meeting. To meet Mr. Wayne," you say to the man.

A brief pause comes. Then the voice is back, "Of course. We've been expecting you."

The ringbell buzzes and the doors in front of you automatically open, letting you in. You push through, murmuring a quiet “thank you” into the intercom.

The warmth of Wayne Tower’s lobby enveloped you immediately, a stark contrast to the damp chill outside. The scent of polished marble and subtle, expensive air freshener filled your senses, and for a moment, you simply stood there, taking it all in. It all felt so much different.

You shaked off your umbrella on a mat near the entrance, folded it, and tucked it under your arm.

"Good afternoon, miss," a voice comes from in front of you. You lift your head and you're met with much older man, his silver hair neatly combed.

He spoke your name, "I presume?” he asked, his British accent precise and dignified.

You nod with a small smile, "Yes, that’s me.”

He inclined his head in greeting, a small smile softening on his older face, "my name is Alfred Pennyworth. I’m Mr. Wayne’s butler. I'll personally escort you to his office, miss.”

"Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth,” you said as you walk towards him to stand by his side.

"Alfred, if you please,” he corrected kindly, gesturing toward the elevator. “Shall we?

You followed him toward the waiting elevator, its doors gleaming like polished chrome. He stepped inside first, holding a hand at the door as you entered. With a smooth motion, he pressed the button for a certain floor. Then the elevator began to ascend up.

"I hope the weather hasn’t made your journey too unpleasant?” He spoke, trying to make a small talk.

You let out a soft laugh at that, "It’s Gotham—it wouldn’t feel right if it wasn't raining, sir."

"Indeed," Alfred’s lips twitched into a little smile.

When the elevator finally came to a smooth stop, Alfred gestured for you to step out first. You thanked him and walked out, looking up at the marvelous hallways that you stood in.

You walked along the long hallways with Alfred by your side. As he reached certain doors, he paused and turned back to you, "this is it, miss."

"Thank you, Alfred,” you said, your voice quieter now.

He gave you a small nod and took his own steps to leave you alone to face this. You sigh as the man walks away and you look up at the dark wooden doors.

You raise your hand and knock. In a moment, a quiet 'come in!' comes through and you push the door open.

The office was massive yet somehow intimate. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the rain soaked skyline as the rain drops onto the window. The city sprawled out below like a sea. Bruce Wayne stood near the windows, his silhouette sharp against the gray rainy light outside.

At the sound of the doors opening, he turned. His piercing blue eyes found yours instantly, and a faint, unreadable smile tugged at his lips.

He spoke your name, his voice smooth and welcoming. “I’m glad you could make it."

“Mr. Wayne,” you said, offering a polite smile as you stepped inside. Closing the big heavy door behind you.

"Come, sit. Um- Can I get you something? Coffee, tea?” He gestured to the leather chair in front of his table and mumbled.

He wasn’t the boy, that everyone got him for. No grand gestures, no effortless charm that swept people off their feet the second they see him. No boyish smirks or remarks.

Instead, he seemed quieter, even hesitant, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate these interactions. As if this, this kind of meeting, wasn’t something he was entirely comfortable with.

"I'm- I'm not good at this. I don't usually do these... meetings," he said with a sigh.

"We've met before," you chuckle as you follow his lead, settling onto the leather chair as he sits on the edge of a matching chair on the other side of the wooden table.

"Under different circumstances," he says and rests his forearms on his knees, his fingers lacing together. His eyes running around the room, not on you. He was looking nearly nervous.

For another brief moment, the room was quiet. Apart for the steady patter of rain against the windows. Bruce seemed to be searching for the right words to start this conversation.

“I know this is… unusual," he began, his voice soft, almost apologetic. “Calling you here like this. Unexpectedly."

You softly smile at that.

"When I bou— acquired your company,” he began, quickly switching the words to more formal ones, his voice steady but soft, “I wasn't buying for money, for more growth. Those people, they know what they're doing. The power they hold, the company does."

You blinked at that. Caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity in his tone.

Caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity of his words.

"Carmine Falcone wanted to buy it first."

Your jaw nearly falls at that. Your eyebrows shot up. That name sent a chill down your spine.

"Falcone wanted to buy the company?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bruce nodded, "he saw an opportunity to use it for money. Acquiring a legitimate business would have given him a perfect front. Especially with one which has files about the whole entire city."

"So, you bought it,” you said, the pieces clicking together. “To stop him?"

"Yes..." Bruce admitted, his gaze wandering back to you finally, "but that’s not the only reason. When I looked into the company, I saw potential—not just in the business itself, but in the people. In you.”

"In me?"

A chuckle escaped him, something faint but genuine. His head tilted just enough to let a small, fleeting smile form, "your work stood out to me. The way you managed files, streamlined processes, and handled everything with precision—it wasn’t just good. It was exceptional actually. And when I realized what Falcone could do with those same systems…” He trailed off, sighing and shaking his head. “I knew I had to step in.”

It all felt surreal at this moment.

"So, now what?” you asked, your heart beating. “You saved the company. What do you want from me?"

Bruce’s lips curved into a faint smile, "I need someone I can trust and someone who knows the work, who understands the systems there. I want you to be my assistant—not just to help manage files and projects, but to make sure everything runs the way it’s supposed to, you know?"

You feel like you may faint at any moment now if he continues.

"You think... That I can do that?" you mutter, eyes leaving his, looking down at your feet.

"I know you can."

“I... I need to think about it,” you said after a few seconds.

Bruce nodded, his expression softening. “Of course, how much time you need. And… thank you.

He stood up and you did as well. Standing, he extended his hand. You hesitated only for a second before shaking it. His grip was firm but careful, lingering just long enough to convey something deeper than words. He walked you to the door, the two of you moving in silence, nearly awkwardly. As you stepped out into the hallway, you could feel the weight of his gaze lingering on you.

Then you both part your ways. His gaze stays on you as you leave. His eyes trailing on your figure as you walk down the hallway.

Deep in his chest, his heart is beating louder than before. And he deeply knows, he only wants to hear yes from you. You're perfect. There is no other discussion.

The cold wind blews in your face as you walk on the streets. The whistling of the wind sounds around as you make your way back onto the station.

The meeting was brief and quick. Your mind is unfocused unfortunately. You're thinking about all different alternatives of accepting this position. What if you say no? What are you going to lose? If you say yes, what are you going to achieve? Or even lose?

It needs to sit in your head for a while to see the right point. The right path.

Your steps sound as you step down the stairs down to the station, clicking your card against the panel to let you through.

You walk towards your stop, where you wait for the old train to come rush past to get you home. The cold breeze under the city in the tunells fly over the people. You hug yourself in your coat as you wait.

The sudden sound of the train hissing in the distance gets you out of the daydream you were stuck in. Daydream about the infamous so-called prince, Bruce Wayne.

The train halts to a stop and the doors screetch as they open. People in the train walks out and then you try to make your way inside through the leaving crowd.

The train is kind of empty by now. Just few people sitting in the dirty seats, some standing.

A group of teenagers stand furtner down the train. They all have painted faces; like skeletons, or clowns. You cannot place it. But they seem no better than any other wannabe gangsters in the city.

As your eyes flickers to them, one of them is already staring at you. A younger one, his face pained only on one half. He looks like the youngest of the group, he looks scared. The white and red smears contrast sharply against his skin, his eyes filled with something between hesitation and fear.

As you stare at each other for a brief moment, one of his buddies notice the eye contact. He nudges his buddies by shoulders and snickers. You quickly look away, gripping the strap of your bag tighter.

You're happy that the meeting with Mr. Wayne was sooner than the Halloween event in the city started. During the night of Halloween everyone is outside in the streets, in masks, celebrating. One of the few nights where you can come into a store, face covered in mask, and nobody would a bat an eye. Gotham’s streets become a blur of masks and costumes, a perfect cover for those with ill intentions.

That's why crimes go up dramatically during this certain day.

The automated voice annouces your stop, you get up and hold onto the pole until the train comes to total stop. The doors open and you're already walking out.

They're as well.

From your peripheral vision, you can see the group exists from the doors few seats down. You clutch at your bag as you walk away from the train.

You're walking faster than usually. The station there is empty. Only you and the group behind you. You quickly make your way towards the stairs to get out. The station is nearly empty, eerily quiet aside from the faint hum of flickering overhead lights

You're suddenly yanked backwards. They snatched you by the strap of your bag. Stumbling backwards, you face the group of men with painted faces.

Without second thought, you turn around and run.

The younger boy stays put, his buddies starts to run. You see a man by his side shake him and most likely yell at him.

You're running, cluthing your bag and umbrella. Your steps echoing as you run on the station platform's damp floor.

Then it comes, one of the man reaches you. And his hands come to contact with your back, pushing you forwards. Hard. You spin around, barely catching yourself before you fall. You fall down at the damp floor of the station. You were nearly at the exit. Your knee scratches against the floor and your head thumps against the ground. A pained hiss leaves you.

"Fucking bitch!" One of the men roars as he arrives next to the man, that pushed you. He has a scowl on his face as he drags the young boy by his hood.

He pushes him forward towards you by the hood. He looks down at you, his eyes wide open as he stares at you. His wide eyes filled with something that almost looks like regret.

"Show her, man!" one of the buddies says as they push the younger boy. You move yourself up to sit, crowded by the man, sitting on the damp floor against the wall. Nowhere to run.

In the quiet of the station, there is suddenly a loud noise. A thumping of boots. Steps.

The younger bot turns around, eyeing the dark tunnell where the sound comes from. Some of the other men also turns around towards the sound. Some of them asking each other questions about it.

The sound is terrifying.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the attack of the man.

One of the men steps up in front of the group. Unzipping his jacket and pulling up a long machete.

The sound is closer, the steps echoing even louder as it comes closer.

You wish you could stand up and run now. But some of the men are still turned towards you, keeping you seated.

You don't see the tunnel from where the noise is coming from. But you know the person mist have finally showed to the light. The men are suddenly chuckling and laughing at the person. The younger boy quickly turns his head to look down at you, scared, and then he turns back.

"The hell are you supposed to be?"

The man with machete raises his voice to call out to the approaching figure. The person doesn't answer. By the sound of his steps, he's closer than ever.

The man with machete steps forward and swings his arm. Trying to hit him with the weapon.

What a stupid move.

The man is now laying on the floor, beaten up in a matter of few seconds. The machete clatters to the ground, its owner now writhing in pain. Bloodied face. You see him laying on the floor through the group of men in front of you.

"I'm vengeance."

The person finally speaks. His voice hard, deep and husky. A man. He stands up back to his high. Towering the group of face painted men. Some of them muttering and cussing as the man stands before them. You hug yourself closer to the wall, cluthing your bag and umbrella. Taking a deep breath as you watch the group and the man.

Panic seizes the group of men. The group suddenly moves forwards, attacking the man. They're all fighting. Your eyes widen as the men you feared fall to the floor in blink of an eye. The younger boy quickly leaps to the side, away from the fight. His eyes apologetically flicker to yours. His eyes glistening, as he keeps his gaze on yours. You nearly feel bad for him.

The man in black fights all of them. Most of them already on the ground, shaking in pain or fear.

A gunshot rings out.

The bullet flickers off the armor, that the man is wearing. He quickly stalks towards the man with the gun. His arm reaching out, he grasps him by the neck. Smashing his whole body against the nearest pole, a sudden wave of electric shooting out of his hand or a weapon. You cannot tell from your position on the floor. The man yells in pain and then the electricity stops. The man pushes him off the pole and he slides down on the damp floor. A pained groan leaving him.

The pained men, who were laying on the floor then slowly, but steadily stand up. Every one of them on different side of the station platform. Thrown there like a doll. They all mutter something inbetween each other and then they nod to each other. Then they're off running out of the station, Their footsteps fade into the distance, the last of them disappearing into the night. The younger boy hesitates for a second, his gaze flickering between you and the figure clad in black.

You gulp as the men scrabble away, leaving you alone with the man in dark armor. You now finally notice the cape and the black pointed ears. The symbol of a bat in middle of hos chest and the amount of weaponry on his armor. The pointed bat-like ears perched on top of the black leather helmet mask. The cape blowing behind him.

"Please don't hurt me," you whisper quickly. The weight of his gaze pins you in place against the wall.

The man turns his whole body to you, his eyes flickering to yours. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath and then he steps forward. The boots making a weird sound on the damp floor, as he stops.

"I won't hurt you," he tells you, coming closer to your sitting form on the floor.

His hand raised towards you, "come on."

You look down at his outstretched hand and then back up at his face. You sigh and clasp your smaller hand onto his gloved up. He helps you stand up effortlessly.

You finally stand on your shaken knees, his bigger body towering above you. His head hung low as his eyes watch you.

"Thank... Thank you," you stutter out as you put your bag on your shoulder. Your eyes flicking to his. He's standing steadily in front of you. As he hears your answer, he nods.

"Go home," The rough deep voice sounds out again. His feet moving as he steps away from you without turning his back.

You breathe out a soft puff of breath and nod, "yeah, that's where I was headed."

You then take a step forward towards him, your eyes not leaving his. You have something on your mind. You open your mouth and then close it without saying what you wanted to say.

You walk past him. A sigh coming out of you as you make your way towards the stairs which lead you out of the station. As you're reaching the stairs, you turn your head to the side, to catch a quick glimpse of the man again. When your head is turned, and your eye sfell on the place, where he stood few moments ago, you don't see him anymore. The spot is empty, the station is quiet once again. As if he was never there. As if he left without a single trace in the world. By a blink of an eye. He's suddenly gone.

You're wondering how such a bigger person, fully dressed up in armor and cloak, strapped weapons for combat, can leave without a single trace or a single sound. Like a feather.

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

eeekk here is the fourth part i hope you liked it even if it was shorter !!! we're finally moving up with the actual movie yipp

thank you for reading :)))

give it some love if u liked it thank u <3

[amoristt]

trust i seek, and i find in you | alt finale

part 1 (x) . part 2 (x) part 3 (x)

「 ✦ seong gi-hun / reader ✦ 」

a/n: i had to make this im sorry i couldnt live w myself idc that its a weaker ending!!!!

original ending (x)

Rain poured dense and persistent from the angry sky above, thick clouds akin to raging plumes of smoke miles overheard. The dirt and gravel surrounding you resolved into slick mud under your dress shoes. Droplets of water gathered at the crown of your skull before cascading down the lines of your face, deepend with grief. Fat tears had long since begun to fall from your water lines and race down your cheeks, only hidden by the onslaught of heavy rain, a mirage that only bought you seconds before you would inevitably fall into Gi-hun’s arms blubbering like an inconsolable child. 

The game laid out before you both had already started but neither of you could bring yourselves to move. Just two players standing in static, unwilling. Gi-hun was, as always, as easy to read as a book. Every emotion that coursed through him was plain as day before you. His anger, his fear, his desolation all settled into the wrinkles of his frown, those puppy-dog like eyes downcast and swallowing you whole. You hated seeing him like that- broken. 

How could this be happening. 

Just the night before, in both of your monkey suits with full bellies and reeling from loss, he had said that he knew a way out of this. That since it was just the mere two of you left, he knew exactly how to make sure you’d both go home at the next game. He was confident, with a pipe dream in his eyes and a sense of bright urgency so determined that you couldn’t help but believe him too. You think you would have believed anything that passed his lips. Needed to believe that there was a light at the end of this dark, dark tunnel. He said that just like the first time you’d been chewed up and spat out by the games, you could both hold another vote to end the games and send you both packing. You could start your lives together having found something worth more than the weight of the gold the game makers had dangled just out of your grasp since day one.

Go on, and live for the ones who couldn’t. 

You sucked in every word he said. Leaned on it, depended on it, clung to it equally as desperate as you clung to his chest and buried your face in the scent of him. He said he would find you after you were both dropped off no matter what it took. He’d find you, and it would be the last time you were without each other. 

Clause three, He’d said, a dejection in his sorrowful voice. A majority vote will end the games.

It sounded too good to be true. And yet, you began to imagine it. You and Gi-hun. Life together outside the games, a life you wished you could have found years and years ago. Early mornings spent tangled together in bed sharing one lousy comforter. A dingy roof that always seemed to leak, floors that were always just a little too cold for comfort. Lights would flicker, your neighbors would be less than friendly. But you would be together. You’d patch the holes in the ceiling of whatever ramshackle shithole you’d both scrounged up the money for. He’d stand by the drafty windows and watch the world come to life in the early hours of the day, painted in the beautiful morning sun while you pretend to stay asleep just to drink in a few extra moments of his peace.

Eating dry ramen on a table made from a cardboard box. Sharing a bottle of Soju because you could only afford one. 

You’d work long hours day by day to afford what little you had, but then at the end of every shift your sore feet would wander you right back home and into his arms and it would all be worth it. Sore, tired, hungry. Loved.

It was a lovely mirage. It was everything you never knew you needed. You never needed money, or fancy things. All you needed was someone to push through life with you. Someone like Gi-hun, with his boyish smile and his dark curly hair and his gentle touches with even gentler words. Someone like him who made you feel as if the world wasn’t something to shy away from. Someone like him, whose eyes lit up whenever you were at his side. Someone worth going through the everythings with.

Even then, in the heavy absence of the other players who hadn’t gotten to make it as far as you had, he made you feel like in that moment everything was okay. There weren’t guards just outside waiting for the call to shoot you down. There weren’t mysterious figures and masked men watching every move and over joyously pitting you against one another. 

There was only him. 

Gi-hun had pulled you so close to his chest that you could feel the heat of him. You listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart and the hum of his soft breaths. You longed for the next chapter- the life outside of this that he swore up and down was within reach. 

Yes, you would both be painstakingly poor, but you’d also be richer than you could ever have imagined. 

There, together, money had become just a mere word.

When you were both escorted to the last game, you couldn’t help the way your nerves seized your heart up in the cage of your chest. Something felt wrong. Off. Difficult to wretch down as every step brought you closer and closer to the giant doors you remembered from the first game you played here. And even though Gi-hun squeezed your hand in his own, you couldn't bring yourself to return the sweet gesture he offered you. 

Sure enough, when the doors pulled open, it was that same field. The little girl statue stood looming in the distance. This time, however, something new caught your eyes. A white pattern on the ground- the unmistakable outline of Squid Game. It took your breath away.

A fight to the death. 

Gi-hun was quick to announce that he’d be drawing from clause 3 to end the games before they had even begun. He said it with confidence, without a single stutter or falter in his voice. Over the days, you’d noticed how much of a backbone he’d grown. You feel the opposite had happened to you, your soul crushing with the weight of the dead and your nerves threatening to choke you up at any given point. If not for Gi-hun you’d surely have crumbled into dust by now. He eyed the square guard as he spoke, demanding for the voting to commence. Once it did, you would both get to go home. 

”Player 456 wishes to stop the game,” He said into his walkie-talkie.

This would all just be a terrible memory behind you. You were ready to leave everything but him behind. 

So imagine the surprise when his request was denied. 

Imagine the dread, the pure and sheer defeat and rotten hopelessness that settled over your faces and into your guts like a pound of lead as the masked man spoke. 

“Your request was denied. The vote may not be held during the finale of the Games.”

Gi-hun, initially was at a loss for words, gaping at the guard with disdain and hatred in his eyes. If looks could kill, that masked man would have dropped dead right before him. You wished he would. 

You sputtered from where you stood, your head spinning faster than you could get a grip on. Those sweet and peaceful days you’d imagined with him shattered into nothing in an instant, the fragments running circles in your heads and taunting you. No mornings with him. No dinners. No drinks. No drafty window, no little shitty home that was rundown but still just perfect because it was yours. 

This couldn’t be happening.

“We won’t fight!” Gi-hun announced with grit teeth. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides. “We’ll just stay right here for as long as it takes!”

Without missing a beat, the masked man raised his hand. It was then you noticed he had some sort of remote, and with a single click, there was a great buzzer that sounded in the distance. Flashing lights gripped both of your attentions- the clock from the first game. In bold, striking letters, you saw the numbers flashing before your eyes. Your heart sank into your belly. 

5:00

Your mind could barely register the guards chatter behind you.

“If a player does not win before the countdown, both players will be eliminated.”

That was the moment the rain had first begun. Heavy droplets tapped away before it began to fall in raging streams. 

While you were busy spinning on your heel and pleading with the masked man to have a single shred of decency, of fucking humanity, Gi-hun’s eyes never left you. Memorizing you. Taking down every last detail before he would lose you. You swatted the guards chest and begged with desperate eyes and trembling hands. It didn’t even phase the man, who merely stood there unbothered. Only when your gaze singled with Gi-hun’s and you could see the way vain was written in those beautiful irises did you finally let your shoulders fall in defeated anguish. 

It was over. 

It was all over.

The timer began to count down.

There was no escaping this. You were both going to die here. 

Die, because there wasn’t a chance in hell you would even so much as raise your hand to that man. Nothing could force it from you- not even the always present threat of death hanging over your head closing in on you like walls. You couldn’t do it. Not to him. 

God, not to him. 

Judging by the way his eyes found yours, far away and crestfallen, you knew he was in the same boat. A sinking, drowning boat rocking in the sea of blood. 

But hey, at least you were in the boat. At least you got to be there together. Bearing the suffering and loss wrapped within the gift that was getting the blessing to know, and to love, Gi-hun.

An agonizing fate laid before the two of you, but you’d both accepted defeat before the game had even had a chance to begin. Your lives were laid down and bared, ready to go, only if together. The thought of him dying here struck you worse than your own untimely demise. He had a daughter he longed to see, a mother he wanted to take care of. You had nothing back home. No family. Not even a damn cat. And he was still willing to throw it all away for you. 

A part of you wishes you had brought the knife provided to you at your final supper. You could have plunged it into your neck by now, bled out and died content knowing that Gi-hun would get to continue life anew without the incessant burden of money. He could visit his daughter in America, he could go anywhere he pleased. He could pay for his mothers surgery and see out his days in the utmost comfort. He could leave this all behind.

Your friends wouldn’t have met their demise in vain.

But, you hadn’t brought it.

And neither had he. 

After your meals, when you’d both realized that there was a high chance the final game being a fight to the death, you left those knives abandoned at the table. A pre-refusal to fight. You didn’t give a damn about winning anymore. The prize had become nonexistent. Gone- fucking useless. Nothing more but fucking numbers- nothing compared to the sheer weight of his life. You’d gone through so much, swore up and down that it’d be you at that finish line and you’d go home with your head held high and proud for all to see. To prove to the fuckers back home that you were not the worthless, mooching brat they’d all made you out to be. 

The brat you'd turned yourself into.

Now, you would have given anything to go home with empty pockets and Gi-hun at your side. You truly had thought you would, too. 

All washed down the drain in the blink of an eye. 

You were a damn fool to ever think you could get out together. Of course this would be the end. Of fucking course. Either a final fight between found lovers, a spectacularly brutal scene indeed, or a quiet doom that would reach you within 4 minutes. 

So, you chose to wait. To let death come and find you wherever you may be. 

And it was an easy choice, especially so as he stood there watching you with those eyes. Because compared to him… Nothing else mattered. Absolutely nothing.

He called your name over the now deafening beat of rain. 

“I can’t-...” He’s struggling to speak, his lower lip quivers. It rips you to shreds. “I can’t hurt you.”

A response dies in your throat, caught by the lump you’re struggling to swallow down. You force it out regardless. “I know.”

His eyes fall. The weight of your fallen friends is unimaginably heavy on your shoulders. They’d all died, some so that you could be where you are now. And for what. To watch you throw in the towel from beyond the beyonds all because you found yourself in love with your competitor. To watch you throw it all away at the finish line because you loved him more than yourself.  

The clock ticks down. This is how you both die. When it reaches zero, shortly now, it would tick away at its last second and you would both be put down like miserable dogs. Really, the only comfort you could draw into yourself was thinking how you would find him in the afterlife. Drawn to him so intensely that you wouldn't be able to stay away even if you wanted to. Even if you tried. 

But that wasn't for another three minutes and thirty seconds. Until then, you wanted- no, needed to be near him. If this was truly the end, if you were to die, it would surely have to be in his arms. Your eternal resting place. 

He opens his mouth to speak, probably something so heart wrenchingly horrible that it would shatter you to pieces, but you stop him with a shaky, sad invitation.

“Could I have a second dance.”

Initially Gi-hun is stunned into silence. But then, that shocked expression melts away into a smile dripping in melancholy.  Downturned eyes. He tries to be happy for you but you can see it. The beautiful upturn to his lips that doesn’t quite reach his beautiful eyes. He reaches his hand out and beckons you. 

You all but throw yourself at him. 

Gi-hun grasps your hand gently, you move to him like a moth to flame. His fingers are soaked, yours are too, droplets racing down your wrist as he raises your knuckles to his lips and plants a chaste kiss right over bruises. So sweet, if not for the loaded gun mere feet away itching to toss led through your skin. Sweet if not for the whimpered cry that tears itself from your chapped lips when he brings his other hand up to graze the pads of his fingers down the curves of your face. Over your cheek bones, brushing sopping wet hair from your eyes. Your heart hurts- it aches. You feel like you’re being held up by strings, knees threatening to buckle at any moment now. 

Everything was all too much. It was too heartbreaking. Too bittersweet. Too intimate to display in front of whatever bastards were watching out of view. But yet, you sink into him like you’ve done it a hundred times before. It’s instinctual. You wrap your arm around his neck and squeeze his hand with the other. His eyes soften all over again and you feel tears stream down your cheeks. 

That hand gently tracing over your battered and bruised expression finds its way down to your shoulder, then takes its resting place on your hip. No words were needed this time. You’d remembered the dance down to the minute detail. Back, forward. If you weren’t in the final moments of your life, you’d be proud of yourself for being such a quick learner. Left, right.

Or at least praising Gi-hun for being such an excellent teacher. 

You move with him and let him guide you all over again. You feel the most subtle of tugs and then you’re turning with him, the mud beneath your shoes dragging as you go. He sways to a melody in his head, and this time, you can feel it as well. The gentle rhythm of push and pull. It entranced you. Everything faded into the endless sea of nothingness except for him. No games, no extravagant piggy bank overflowing with the spoils of blood money. Not even the square-faced guard’s looming presence just barely close enough to catch the corners of your eyes.

Just Gi-hun. 

It was almost like being there again- that night. You remembered the terror of watching over your friends while they slept, shaking in your shoes carefully to observe every last movement your field of vision allowed you to soak in. Bated breaths, a racing heart despite the silence. You remembered wondering if you would even survive that night after witnessing the sheer brutality of the evening before. You had wondered how ever survived anything at all. 

Gi-hun had pulled you from that haze of terror so effortlessly you didn’t even realize he’d done it until you were giggling and chatting away. There was something about him that you could never understand, something so unique that you couldn’t process yourself. His uncanny ability to make everything around you just… Vanish. And then you’d be at peace again, even for just that short while. Unafraid. Like death wasn’t waiting for you around every turn. 

You’d have given anything to go back to that now. You’d appreciate it more, let him spin you round and round until you were dizzy and drunk in his presence. Listen to him hum a tune that you couldn’t place and talk you to sleep with that tender voice. He was so full of life that it spilled over his cup and ran into yours. 

So full of life, yet so willing to throw it away if it meant you could carry on. Even now, at the end of the line he fought to climb, to make it to the top and to bring home riches for his family, to change the course of his life and finally do good for those who’d helped him along during his troubles, he wouldn’t finish it. Because that meant finishing you. 

And you did the same. Survived to the brink of winning only to discover that there was nothing worth more than this. More than him. 

How could this be the end? 

Haven't you given enough? Haven’t you both suffered enough? 

Were your lives just some long, cruel pranks played by a God with an abhorrent sense of humor? To throw you into the lion's den, to knock you down peg by peg until you believed the only way out was to kill or be killed, to dangle a prize dripping in blood just out of your reach. 

Even worse, to put this perfect man right in your path. An unmoving, unwavering road block that you couldn’t bear to hurdle over. You’d rather die.

And so, you would.

Gi-hun can see the way you start to choke back cries. Your steps are growing sloppy, your fingers are twisting in his shirt. 

“Look at me.” Rain and tears blur your vision, but you do. He sighs a breath of content. “Ah, there you are.”

He did it again- dragged you from the spiraling pits of your racing thoughts. 

The clock reads 1:00 in taunting LEDs. Time is running out- it’s almost up. Only one more minute with him. 

“Gi-hun,” You sniffle. “I can’t-”

He doesn’t let you speak, swiftly cuts off your incoherent cries by outstretching his arm and gently pushing you at the end of his reach. Before you know it, before you can register that your body is seemingly moving all on its own, you’re spinning. The world is a blur of grey and brown, and then you’re pulled right back into his arms.

He lets you shrink into him. Your chest stutters as you fail to hold back your sobs. 

He rests a hand on the back of your head, and lets you weep. Once the tears fall, really fall, they don’t stop. They faucet from your eyes and disappear into his sopping wet clothes in body wracking, chest heaving cries that almost seem to echo. Every noise you make seems to bounce right back into your ears and then you realize that Gi-hun’s crying too. He holds you so tight to him, so fervently that it almost forces the air from your lungs. Gripping onto you like if he lets up you’ll be gone by the time he could even open his eyes. 

You feel it to be true too, your hands gripping tight fists into the fabric of his shirt. You’d seen countless lives crumble to nothing at the drop of a dime- an entire life born, built and then erased in the blink of an eye. How were you ever supposed to let go of him?

By the time he’s just started to settle, you’re still shaking in your shoes, stuck in place and gripping him like a lifeline. He has to damn near pry you back just to get another good look at your face. Even though you’re sure that you’re red faced, snot nosed, and bleary eyed, he breathes out the softest sigh and the corners of his lip’s turn up to form a sullen smile. He tries to comfort you, wipe away at your tears, but between the rain and your incessant crying there isn’t much to be done. You’re babbling like an idiot, racing out anything you can think of. Desperate to fit it all in before it’s over.

Thank you for everything. You are perfect.

You are everything to me.

“I wanna go home,” You wail. “I want us to go home.”

Go-hun holds your face in his hands preciously. He pets his thumbs down your cheeks. Try as he might to comfort you, the timer settles on it’s final 20 seconds. 20 seconds to live. He shakes and presses his lips to your hair and breathes you in for what could be the last time. It hurts- you can’t breathe, you can’t think anymore. There isn’t enough time. It’s slipping through your fingers and you can’t catch it. 

You just want more time. 

“I love you.” 

He’s the first to say it. There’s tears rolling down his face but he still smiles for you. I love you too leaves your lips before you even have a chance to process it yourself. 

There’s an ear piercing buzz that cries over the sound of the thundering rain. 

0:00

No more time.

Gi-hun doesn't let you see anything. He shoves your face into his chest and buries you, surrounds you with himself as if it’ll stop the bullets from ripping through his wiry frame and slicing through you. Footsteps sound from somewhere you can’t place. Your lives are over. You’re going to die. The dirt shifts under the weight of them, stopping merely a foot away. You don’t get to see what’s going on- he refuses to let you face it. But the way his body tenses, his fingers grip into your skin, his breath pauses, tells you all that you need to know. It’s over. 

You wait, silent and trembling. Any moment and you’ll hear it- the shrill, air-slicing pop of the gun. You prayed it would be a quick death. You prayed there would be an afterlife at all. 

The only thing you can think of beyond Gi-hun’s arms is the selfish wish that you die first. 

But, it never comes. What does sound instead, is a muffled voice over a walkie talkie just quiet enough to be unintelligible over the sound of the rain. Seconds passed by- what the hell was going on?  Are you being lulled into confusion before you’re inevitably wiped out? You try to peek over Gi-hun’s shoulder to see just what in the hell is going on but he keeps you flush to his chest, unwilling to allow you to leave his cover. 

“What the hell is this?” Gi-hun demanded. The voice on the talkie continues to chirp.

”Yes, sir.” The guard suddenly says flatly, before he addresses you both equally as monotone. “Player’s 456 and 307. You are being offered a choice. If both players wish to end the game, you may do so now and forfeit.”

You wrench yourself from Gi-hun’s grasp to stare in bewilderment, but he’s quick to pull you to his side, desperate to keep his hands on you at all times. The guard stands unmoving, that square mask staring holes through you. This had to be a joke. A sick, fucked up joke where the moment hope is within your grasp your hands are chopped clean off. 

“Forfeit…?” You parrot with a wavering voice. You can’t let yourself hope. Not yet. 

The guard nods once. “Yes. You will receive no rewards.”

Gi-Hun swallows thickly. The rain continues to pour. He rubs circles into your shoulder with his thumb. He speaks slowly, unsure, damn confused just as you were. “But we both leave?”

Another nod. “Correct.”

Your heart rate explodes into a race, pumping fiery hot blood through your entire body. You could go home. You could both go home. Gi-hun is immediately in front of you, grasping your shoulders with each hand, capturing your attention in one movement. You reach out and hold his face. You’re floundering in a whirlwind of emotions but one stands miles above all the rest- hope. Real hope- hope that makes you feel weak in the knees and has you buzzing inside and out. You aren’t sure what the change was- why you were suddenly being offered an out, but you jump on the chance in fear it would disappear. 

“I vote to end the game!” You cry. 

Gi-hun’s lips press into a tight line but you can see the way relief floods him as if there was ever a chance in hell you’d say anything else. He smiles- grins and the corners of his eyes crinkle with joy. 

“I also vote to end the games.” 

”Both players have forfeited.” The guard speaks into his walkie-talkie. 

A voice answers back but you can’t be fucked to give a shit enough to listen, too focused on the way Gi-hun’s smile is finally reaching his eyes again. Real happiness, drinking in the toothy boyish grin that you’ve come to adore with every fiber of your entire being, and it reminds you how you never knew you could feel so much for a singular person. 

“Yes sir.” The guard pockets his walkie-talkie and holds his gun close to his chest, taking a step away from the two of you and using his hand to direct you towards the doors you’d both come wavering out of merely minutes ago. 

Your heart is beating so quickly you fear it may burst from your chest at any moment, and even as the guard began to escort you both inside, you still have this gnawing feeling that this was too good to be true. That any moment now you would be sent hurtling back into devastation. You look back at the field one last time. You aren't sure why. You see the Squid Game laid out, the battlefield where you were expected to kill him, your Gi-hun. Where he was expected to kill you. You see the statue of the little girl standing at the end of the field. A gruesome reminder of where you’d started and where you were now.

Along the walls, just as the doors shut and block your vision, you swear you see something almost glistening, like glass. Like a window overlooking the field. But then Gi-hun is tugging you against his side and once more everything was nonexistent but him. 

Don't look back.

There is an entire life ahead of you.

“Let’s go,” Gi-hun whispers as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go home together.” 

It isn’t until you’re inside and those hulking doors slam shut does it finally sink in that you’re really going home- that both of you get to leave here with your lives. Tears well up in your eyes, make it hard to see as you stumble along, but Gi-hun holds you so right that it keeps you upright and walking at his side. He’d carry you if he had to, you were sure. You were sure he’d do anything for you.

And you’d do the same. 

You'd been pulled from the fire.

You can see it clearly all over again. Lazy mornings in bed, sharing every meal. One bedroom apartments and plants lined up along tiny little windows. A long life of making ends meet but doing it with him. 

You reach up to squeeze his hand, a smile finally gracing you. 

“Together.” 

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

ok i know you haven’t written possessive price yet and i genuinely can’t remember what i wrote in the ask and i feel like i’m gonna write the same thing but the roles are switched but idc…but imagine possessive sunshine!reader…like price is a good looking dude and imagine he gets hit on at marissa’s bar IN FRONT OF THE READER AND/OR MARISSA and price is doing his best at trying to get the last away from him but she just won’t fuck off

Soulmate Sour

Summary; When someone flirts with Price you take it into your own hands to let them know he's off the market.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word; 3.2k

Warnings; alcohol consumption (drink in moderation), possessiveness, hints at suggestive themes

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: so I adjusted this just slightly but the main parts are still there, hope you enjoy nonnie&lt;3

You chat with Johnny, his left arm slung behind Marissa on the couch's backrest. Meanwhile, your friend is talking to Kyle. For once, you aren't at the Pearl. Marissa decided to close her place earlier for your group to enjoy a night out where she could join in. Perks of being the owner and controlling closing times, as she said.

It's still early for a Friday, only 9 p.m. There were two more hours before the pub you'd find your way to closed.

It was a much more traditional place than Marissa's. Dark, gloomy, food-to-the-drinks kind of place that half of the population would stop by on their way home from work. And your company wasn't entirely different.

Tonight wasn't a return-from-deployment night. It was a simple get-together after work that John asked if you wanted to tag along to, Johnny having done the same to Marissa. Despite having planned a girl's dinner, the boys had been scattered for a few weeks, most of them back on active duty like John, and tonight was the first time most found their way back to town from wherever so the get-together had been something you couldn't pass up on. 

However, rather than fixing yourself to the somewhat special evening when John had knocked on your door, you'd greeted him with your computer in hand and a brief wave. A meeting with one of your clients ran longer than anticipated.

In the end, Joh waited 40 minutes for you to finish, giving you no time to change out of your work attire if the two of you didn't want to run unfashionably late.

You'd managed to reach the pub just as the others arrived. It was lucky you'd chosen a place that served food, seeing how your last meal had been lunch. Which, at the time, had been over six hours ago.

Your stomach had rumbled enough for Marissa to dig her finger into your side, asking if 'the workaholic cares for herself' in that partly teasing, partly serious tone. However, with everyone's plate of favoured dinner polished clean of food soon after finding a table -aside from Ghost who, when you asked, said 'don't fancy eating around other people, so ate earlier'- the soft feeling of fullness had eased your stomach.

Not soon after the dinner, and before the plates got cleared from the table, John had patted your thigh.

You'd been in the midst of your conversation with Johnny as you momentarily had turned to face the one seeking your attention. 

'Gonna get somethin' to drink. You want anythin'?' John had asked once you turned to face him. 'Same old', you'd answered and he'd only nodded, squeezing your thigh before he slid out of the curved booth.

What brought you out of the thought 'he's been gone for a while now' was when the Scotsman trailed off in his sentence, his eyes perched over your shoulder rather than face, remaining pinned to something behind you. 

Your brows knitted together, head cocking slightly at his sudden shift of attention. The minimal reaction to his strayed conversation was enough to make the Scotsman's face you again.

Something new had entered his eyes and you gave him a questioning look.

"Hate to say it to ye, lass, but old Price seems popular". Johnny nodded forward, motioning to whatever he spotted earlier.

Just as you shift to follow his gaze, a second voice momentarily stops your movement.

"Don't go rippin' a head". Your eyes flicker to Ghost sitting across from you. The man had apparently also noticed whatever Johnny motioned towards as his brown eyes shifted to you.

You only smiled back. "Don't worry".

Ghost only shrugs, eyes falling back to what he'd watched earlier and you finally turn towards whatever both men now observed.

It's easy to find John. His stature is not hard to miss. 

He's standing by the bar, presumably having ordered the drinks he set out to do for you two. But, rather than staring at his broad back as he leans against the bar leisurely, waiting for the drinks to be served. John's standing straight, one hand resting on the bar, the other shoved in his pocket. His posture is tense enough that you note it across the room and if you would've been closer, you probably would've seen his jaw work too, as it often does when he's on edge.

The reason? A woman. She's talking to him, flirting with him.

You see it all the way from here despite not hearing a word she says, her body language screaming her intentions. She's smiling, head cocked to the side, her hand resting on the bar not far from John's. She isn't touching him. Still, she's standing close, closer than what's generally considered talking distance for strangers. Her upper body is leaning towards him, breaking John's personal bubble.

Your brows rise at the scene, your body turning towards the pair. Maybe Ghost was right with his comment as a sudden sour feeling fills your mouth. Despite this, you bite your tongue, remaining put as you watch the scene closely.

It doesn't take long, not even two minutes, before you spot what you only had a hunch would happen.

At something the woman says, John's head and upper body instinctively lean away from her before the rest of his body follows. He rolls his shoulder as he turns, his side facing her while replying. All the while, he attempts to step around the stool that previously prevented any smooth exit of putting distance between himself and his forced company. 

The move signalled two things. John didn't try to hide that he didn't enjoy the woman's presence anymore and wanted to end the primarily one-sided conversation. And, he needed help, not because you doubted him but because the woman followed his step with one of her own.

You scoffed. Apparently, the woman was fucking blind if she didn't understand the signal.

"I'll be back", you said to Johnny and Ghost, both having turned to look at you upon what transpired. You slide from the booth, rising to your feet once at the edge.

"Go get her, lass". There was a big grin on the Scot's face, but you ignored it as you started walking towards the bar.

"Don't do anythin' I would". You hear the Englishman warn from behind, to which you raise a few fingers in recognition and a departing gesture.

As you weave between tables and occupied chairs, your eyes never leave John and the woman. She sweeps her dark hair over her shoulder, showing off more of the plunging neckline meant to draw eyes. You almost laugh when she frowns upon noticing it didn't have the desired effect, but you catch yourself in the last second.

Slowing your step, you switch to look at John. His exasperation with the situation is humouring enough that the gentle smile you let spread isn't forced.

"Hi, how's the drinks going?" John's head snaps ironically fast towards you, his body swivelling to face you rather than the bar. In the corner of your eye, you note how the woman's attention switch to you. 

When you get closer, John pulls his hand out of his pocket and raises his arm, letting you sidle up to him. His hand lands upon your shoulder, making the two of you shift together when he turns to look down the bar. In the new position, you naturally face the woman, but at the moment, you don't look at her, focusing on John as his eyes drop back to you as he speaks.

"Soon done, love", he mutters. His voice is strained, annoyed. You don't need to guess because of what, or rather, who.

You circle your left arm around his waist, finally looking forwards, feigning realisation when you meet the woman's gaze.

"Oh, hello", you greet her with raised brows, catching the sour expression twisting her features for a split second. "Are you an acquaintance of John?"

You motion between the woman and the man at your side, pointing out their closer-than-strangers proximity. Upon the question, the dark-haired woman steps backwards to not stand as close to you.

"You're his girl". Your head cocks at the short remark and complete disregard of your greeting. 

Satisfaction spreads through you at her response, but you only let the gentle smile continue to play on your lips. "I am, and you are?"

"Kathleen", she puffed out her chest, chin jutting upwards, eyes straying towards John before shifting back to you.

"Pleasure", you return with a nod just as the bartender puts your drinks on the counter. "But, if you excuse us, our company is waiting". Your eyes stray to the glasses to push your point.

"I was talking to John when you interrupted". His name is purred from her lips as if knowing it meant everything to her and should bother you. You look back at her with creased brows, a questioning look directed towards her. She must have taken it for displeasure rather than astonishment at what she thought she was attempting, as a smug smile spread on her lips. "And he never mentioned you". 

Instantly, John tenses beneath your touch while his arm tightens around your shoulders. This time, you scoff. Did she really think that implied he was... what? Open to cheating because of that? 

Your reaction makes John's head tilt downwards. You know he wants you to look up at him from how intently he's looking at you, but you don't face him, instead staring straight back at the woman.

"And yet, you don't assume I'm anything else than his girl when I join him? If you didn't already have a hunch, why didn't you just suppose I'm his thing?" You question with a smile. Her mouth opens and closes, caught off guard by your reaction to what evidently was an attempt at winding you up. Clearly, she didn't get the response she desired.

She sneers. "Well, maybe you are because he didn't object to it". She makes a sharp motion with her hand towards John to defend whatever her definition of it implied.

You can feel how he heats up at your side, his already warm body boiling from how she addressed you and what you know is a false statement. You'd seen it yourself. That's why you can't help but chuckle, stepping away from John towards the bar. 

His arms remain around you for as long as possible until he begrudgingly lets it fall. When John doesn't touch you any longer, the air shifts violently. Tension immediately bleeds into the air.

"Be my guest then", you nod towards John as you grab your drinks, catching how not only the women's eyes widen at what you said. "If you want to get turned down a second or even third time, that is. Because from what I saw, my man isn't interested in you and tried to respectfully show that without dropping my name. Which should be enough anyways, don't you think?" You continue as you turn to face her.

The same smile you'd carried the entire conversation now flashed brighter towards the dark-haired woman, who sputters in bewilderment. Satisfied with her stunned expression and being tongue-tied, you turn towards John, whose eyes apparently never left you. 

"You ready?" His blues shift so violently that it feels like they go from black to white when you offer him his beer. He takes his drink from your offered hand with his right one only to intertwine the fingers of his left with it instead. You take the hint. "Have a good evening, Kathleen". You bid her goodbye without turning to face her, missing how the perplexed woman follows the two of you, stunned when John tags along with an ease she'd found impossible to evoke.

As your back is turned to the woman, you finally spit at her in your mind. Fucking bitch.

You hadn't noticed, but you took your first deep breath in a long time when taking a similar route back to the others as you had previously done to the bar. That was until there was a tug at your hand. 

You slow, twisting your head to look over your shoulder at John, only for him to twirl you around and into his chest before you manage. Some of your drink spill over your fingers, but you don't care about it the second his handsome smile and blue eyes greet you.

"Do you know how much more attractive you just got?" None of the previous tension lace his voice, only a lilt that reflects his lightened expression.

"What?" You ask, a bit dumbfounded, still mentally cursing the woman for how shitty she'd acted. Women empowering women, they say. Not those types of women.

John's eyes flicker over your face before settling to meet your gaze with a smirk. "Haven't seen you this possessive before". Your mouth drops open before you bite your lower one as it curls inwards.

"Don't like someone trying things on you", you mumble, shrugging as you continue. "Especially when they don't show some respect". 

Your eyes widen when you suddenly feel John duck, attaching his mouth to yours. Though he catches you off-guard, you fall into the kiss soon enough, his big hand releasing yours to tilt your face. 

He's warm, overwhelmingly passing the sensation into your body. You feel the last bit of resentment towards the woman leave you as John forces her out of your mind, replacing the mental place she'd occupied with himself.

The bristle of his beard brushing your lower face contrasts with how he gently cups your cheek. His beard oil and cologne fill your nostrils in a blend of something nutty and musky. 

You're putty in his grasp and can't help the silly smile spreading when he nipps your lower lip when pulling back.

"Appreciate it, love", John chuckles, gazing at you with an upwards curve of his mouth. "And the confidence suits you", he adds.

"Need to have some when dating your handsome face". You tap his bearded cheek with your index finger with a cocked head and smile.

"This handsome face only has eyes for one woman". You dip your head with a shake, momentarily needing to escape his intense eyes as his hand falls to the small of your back. His fingers teasingly press into the area. 

"Let's go back to the others". You nod backwards when you raise your head again. John agrees with a nod and a final peck before he guides you towards your table.

"Putting on a show, are you Price?" Kyle greets you with a smug look as you come closer. John only shrugs in return, not bashful about the action but not keen on discussing it. Everyone watches you as you retake your place, sliding into the booth first. John follows soon after, seating himself close enough that his side presses against yours. 

Marissa leans forward, her forearms crossed upon the table. She sends you an amused and knowing look, one you roll your eyes at, understanding the whole table must have followed the spectacle.

Like the smile your friend flashes, Johnny harbours a similar grin as when you'd left. 

"About time ya get someone who acts as yer saviour, Captain". The Scotsman remarks while he nudges his shoulder with yours, giving you a playful wink. This time, John huffs amusedly and you presume it's an inside joke as you catch the low chuckle escaping Ghost and Kyle. 

The comment swung them into a new conversation with countless ribbings. You can't help but shake your head at their antics as you listen to their chatter with your glass in hand. 

Sipping your drink, you melt into the seat, head resting against the shoulder of John's non-dominant side.

It had been a long and, by your standard, stressful day. It had taken a toll on you mentally more than physically. The only downside with not having an ordinary one-to-five, in your opinion. John asking you to tag along to this outing was just what you needed at the end of the day to be able to wind down, aside from one inconvenience.

The timing couldn't be any better as you suddenly feel someone staring. Your eyes sweep over the other occupants of the table before travelling further. You don't need to look for long until you find the source. 

The same woman from earlier sits by the bar, your eyes locking when your attention falls upon her. You raise your brows, huffing more out of pity than annoyance as you take another sip of your drink. 

Holding her stare, you don't hesitate to shift in your seat and cross your leg over your own and John's. You sit slanted towards him now, your leg resting comfortably over his thigh, dangling between his legs.

His response is immediate, his body aligning more towards you as he settles his left hand just above your knee. 

"You get awfully touchy when tryin' to make a point to someone". John whispers as he ducks his head, breath skimming the shell of your ear.

You smile against the rim of your glass, noticing how the woman's face scrunches upon noting your intimate proximity. The reaction is enough to spot from your position. "How'd you know?"

"I'm a soldier. I'm trained to always be attentive to my surroundings", he hums in response, still keeping his head low enough so only you catch his words. "Likewise, to read someone's intentions. Gotten good enough to rival your skill when it comes to you". He humours you with a low chuckle. The rough sound sends a shiver down your spine as your eyes drop to his thumb, which begins a circling motion on your leg. 

Your head tilts upwards, John accommodating by angling his head to catch what you say. "Well, good job, Captain". Your eyes momentarily lock with the women once more as John leans away, shielding your view as he stiffens upon hearing his rank being purred against the shell of his ear. But, you catch the reaction you wanted always, the woman promptly turning away.

Your eyes now meet gaze back at those blues focusing on you keenly.

Yes, John had gotten to know you quite a bit, your ticks and tells. But he indulged you in just as much.

You give him a coy smile and fall back slightly, resting your back against the couch again as you return his gaze.

John levels you with a firm look, hiking your leg slightly higher on his leg, signalling if you continue, this evening will definitely be cut short.

You only smile sweetly at him before you turn your upper body away, engaging yourself in the conversation with the rest. Upon catching his muted sigh, you sip your drink to stop yourself from grinning.

[sparklykat-hideoutenthusiast]

Posted this too early. Ignore this as I edit it and perfect it! ^^

Construction is under way! >:D

INTRO POST!!! WOOOO!!!

Old intro post

(I've tried to think of every possible question one may ask so this post is going to be long)

Imma split this up into categories.

Art requests open until further notice.

Post limit status: Free/trapped

@eckos-reblogs is my reblog blog! Check that out!

!!Moot list!!

Last updated: [2025, day, hour.]

(↑ will not update when I update my post limit status)

(I update this often, a reread of it every now and then would be greatly appreciated!)

This is the new one cuz the old one was way too long and I wanted to edit the og post but couldn't cuz of the reblog so new one it is! :3

About me:

My name is Ecko and it's my preferred name but you can refer to me as Melleona (my OC) or by a nickname as well if you'd like! (just please ask me first if you want to use a nickname as I'm bad with setting boundaries.)

My pronouns are She/Her but feel free to refer to me with it/it's and they/them as well! :3

(I'm not super particular about how I'm referred to as long as I'm not called a boy. I'm still figuring out this whole "I can be other genders" thing -w-''')

I have abandonment issues, control issues, probably some undiagnosed mental disorders and much more so please be patient with me! I'm trying my best :)

Super buff menace girls with @my-mom-named-me-duck !! >:D

Way more info under the cut:

Boundaries:

• Furries, Therians, anyone of lgbtq+ community (including ace people cuz apparently there's a debate about that), weirdos, and more are welcome on my blog! •

(of many different varieties! If you have a question about whether you're welcome on my blog, feel free to ask!)

Boundaries: No racism, homophobic behavior, transphobia, 18+ topics, reposting, AI "art", ect..

Just in case you don't know what the difference between reposting rather than reblogging: it's when you (typically) take a screenshot of the art, post, or whatever, and then repost it on either Tumblr or a different app rather than hitting the reblog button! This can be done with no malicious intent but often it's done to get the credit for the post and fulfillment/clout for themselves. It's very rude :(

While this has never happened to me personally, I do feel like it's worth mentioning ^^ ❤️

I'm a minor! Mind your words, don't send me gross/weird asks or messages. (I've already had a few strangers message me asking for a picture of me and my sexuality. No, I will not be sharing my real appearance on here. My sexuality? I don't know and you don't need to know either, respectfully ^^❤️)

IDC if I post something slightly suggestive or that says I know about 18+ themes. I posted it, not someone saying something to me of those themes. Sure, I understand the stuff but It really doesn't matter now does it? It just means I understand enough to know you shouldn't be saying that stuff to me. (Boundaries ✨)

Moots can message me asking for some of those things.

I feel comfortable sharing my irl appearance (only through dms though) if you'd like to know! ^^

My sexuality however is a mystery none of you get the answers to (including me)

Honestly my age isn't as much of a secret anymore but I feel untrusting to strangers who specifically ask for my age.

------------------------------------------------------------

About me (art/interests):

I've been an artist for around 5 to 6 years, and I still kinda suck at it at times! I do traditional art and digital art.

I mostly draw animals, anthropomorphic creatures, creatures in general, whatever beautifully ugly creature faces I can come up with, OCs, and sometimes human faces!

I'm a furry! I don't have a fursuit but I like anthropomorphic animals!! :D

If you are interested, in asking for an art request:

•They may take a while if I'm busy irl but otherwise they will get done•You can request multiple times if you'd like, Like a ton of times, I really don't mind.• You can also request art of fandoms I'm not in but make sure to give me a good reference or the drawing will look off.•

My main Media for traditional art is, pens, pencil, gel pens, paint markers (posca) and normal markers! I hope to soon branch out to ink! (Maybe one day you'll get to see some watercolor stuff from me. It's not that good of watercolor art and I don't enjoy painting too much tbh)

✨ My main OCs reference sheet along with a bit of lore ✨ (is subject to change)

OC stuff and fanart stuff at @sonar-fanart-hall

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Tags and stuff!:

To help you find stuff in my blog better through search :)

#Echo Rambles -For posts of mine that include mainly me talking about random stuff

#Echo rants - for when I rant. Similar to #Echo rambles but more insistent/rowdy

#Echo answers - For when I answer asks!! :D

#The Clowder seeks - For when you guys ask me stuff!

#Eckos moots <3 - for interactions with moots,(I love y'all sm<3)

#Echo asks - For when I ask questions :3

Mama Change - For when I mention my mom. (Her name is "Change"..or it's more of a nickname but no one calls her by her actual name except for professional/job people like a dentist or something)

#Ecko irl - me irl

#book lore! -anything related to my friends book that they are writing!

!List of discovered side blogs in @the-search-continues 's intro post!

-There are 15 openly known side blogs-

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Userboxes:

I don't know the credits for them, feel free to let me know if you do or tag them in the comments of the master post I made of userboxes I like!

More userboxes

[sarahisslytherin]

trouble.

bodyguard!frank castle x princess!reader

summary: frank escorts you to an afterparty, and when he rescues you from trouble you aren't happy about it.

contains: bodyguard x princess!au, closed door romance, mild violence, sexual comments, age gap and borderline sa. don't be fooled, it's pretty fluffy.

a/n: ik i got carried away, but guess what, this trope with frank is my new favorite thing so idc. gif by @darlingshane

word count: 1.5k

The music is blaring, practically vibrating through the marble floors of the packed Los Angeles mansion. You’ve learned with the years that being perpetually half an hour late guarantees you a party in full gear when you get there. And this one is no exception. The award ceremony held mere hours ago had bored you half to death, and you were glad to finally be in movement once again. You had posed for the red carpet photographers until your muscles ached from stiffness, but it wasn’t until you looked back and saw Frank fussing over the train of your dress that a true smile bloomed on your face. Now, he walks a few paces behind you, the way he always does. He is your ever-present shadow, always one glance over the shoulder away. And when you look, he’s already looking at you.

“Try not to get into too much trouble, kid.” he says in a low voice as he trails behind you into the opulent threshold, complete with a spiraling staircase and a chandelier. “If I bring you home scratched, I lose my deposit.”

You offer him a mocking face as he helps you shrug off your coat. “What if it’s just a tiny scratch, somewhere you can’t see?”

His eyes darken a bit and his lip curls as he leans in. “I think we both know there’s not a part of you I haven’t seen, Princess.” You love when he gets like this. When his words make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your cheeks flush like a schoolgirl.

When he finally slips off your coat, he takes a step back to drink in the view before him. Your scarlet red evening gown hugs your every curve as if it were made for you. 

“You stare any harder and you’ll see my X-Ray, Castle.” you snort, very unprincesslike. Now it's his cheeks that take on a pink tint. It gives you a sense of power, being able to make the big, bad Frank Castle blush. But then his eyes leave you to briefly scan your surroundings, and before you have a chance to predict his next move, he’s pulling you in by your hip and crashing his lips into yours. You can’t bring yourself to care about getting caught, draping your delicate hands over his broad shoulders. But he’s quick to pull away before you get too comfortable.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” he chokes out as he makes swift work of regaining his composure. “Can’t risk being seen.” He sighs as brings a rough hand to your face and gingerly tucks your stray hairs back into place.

“You’d do well to remember that, you know.” you tease, trying not to think too hard of what exactly would happen if you were to be discovered. It’d be all over the celebrity news outlets, your parents would fire Frank and you’d be destined to a life with some bland royal void of personality. This last would occur either way, but at least it would be more bearable with Frank at your side. 

“I know.” he hums, not giving away much with his eyes. But you know it’s killing him as much as it’s killing you to keep this a secret. You pull away now, offering him a flirty smirk to defuse the tension and gesturing to your red lips as you walk away.

“You look absolutely handsome tonight, Frankie, but that shade really isn’t your color.” You don’t need to look to know he’s fighting a laugh and wiping his lips clean of evidence.

The party carries on well into the early hours of the morning. You’re a few drinks in when the colors of the flashing lights begin to grow more vibrant, the guests more agreeable and the dance floor more irresistible. You move to the beat of the techno-pop music blasting from the DJ’s stand, encircled by a few celebrity friends. Actors, musicians, politicians; they’re all in this room. You are in your element. 

Your family back home would berate you, tell you this is not becoming behavior for a princess, that you are first and foremost a role model. Fortunately, they are not here to see you dance with the young singer that approaches you mid-song. You’ve seen his face around but are struggling to recall his name. It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s good for the cameras. Good for the tabloids to believe you’re fooling around with everyone and anyone but Frank.

It’s when the current song begins to transition to the next that this man brings his body close to yours, close enough to send alarms going off in your head. Suddenly, you feel a hand snake around you, slowly descending the curve of your spine. Your eyes go wide, but the music is so deafeningly loud and the lights are blinding.

It’s all too much. 

You look around but can’t make out anyone through the haze you’re in. It isn’t until his hand begins to inch past your waistline that Frank’s massive build suddenly cuts between you two, a wall of protection sliding into place. “Get behind me.” you hear him practically bark, a strong arm reaching out to you and indeed tucking you away.

“What’s your problem, man?” you hear the other guy say. You bet Frank doesn’t care for his tone one bit. 

“I’m looking at it.” you hear him grunt in reply. “I’m gonna ask you to keep away from the Princess for the rest of the night.”

You can’t quite make out the singer’s response, but if Frank’s manhandling him towards the exit is any indication, it wasn’t anything particularly pretty. A few people record the scene, and you just know this will be all over the Internet before your head hits your pillow tonight. The thought alone sends you storming off, fetching your things and stumbling your way to the limo parked outside. In a matter of minutes, Frank is sliding into the passenger seat alongside your chauffeur, and the car sets off in the direction of your Upper East Side penthouse. 

The limo is silent as a tomb the whole way there. When you finally pull up before your Brownstone, you make a show of not waiting for Frank to open your car door, slamming it like a spoiled child as your heels clack up the stoop’s steps. However, Frank falls into step with you in only a few strides. Inside, he lets you press the elevator buttons and remains silent the whole ride to the top. It isn’t until the mahogany penthouse door shuts behind him that he utters a word.

“You done now?” he nods his head at you inquisitively. “You’ve thrown your fit, are you done?”

You narrow your eyes at him, stalking closer to him as you do so. “Am I done? Your little ‘get your hands off my woman’ stunt is probably going viral as we speak!”

“Oh, I see!” he crosses his arms, holding his head up high. “So me doing my job, which is protecting you from slimy creeps trying to feel you up, is a ‘stunt’ now, is that it?”

“Frank, it’s gonna be everywhere!” you insist.

“Let it be everywhere! You did nothing wrong, you are quite literally the damsel in distress and he’s a fucking creep!” he inches closer to you, his rugged features illuminated by only the warm lights of the living room. “You’re safe and that’s all that matters to me, so if I gotta piss you off in the process, well, tough!”

You’re dumbfounded, feeling the alcohol and adrenaline wear off as you blink stupidly at this man who just wants to shield from everything that’s wrong in this world. And you yelled at him for it. You avert your gaze from his wild brown eyes, which soften as he takes in the helpless expression on your face.

“I’m sorry.” you sigh. “I just didn’t want to cause a scene. I didn’t want to be in the papers tonight.” 

Frank clicks his tongue, pulls you into his broad chest so that you can feel the beating of his heart. You don’t mean to cry, but the tears inevitably begin to roll down your cheeks, leaving streaks of mascara in their wake. “And I’m sorry for not being more understanding. I know you’re constantly being watched, and judged and all that shit. But, hey, fuck ‘em.”

He gently clasps your chin and tilts your head so that your eyes meet his. “You hear me? Fuck ‘em.”

“I think I’d rather fuck someone else, thanks.” you joke, letting him wipe away your tears with a chaste brush of his thumb.

“There she is.” he grins ear to ear, a sight reserved only for you. “There’s my girl.”

With that, he scoops you up in his big arms as if you were a bride, and you bid the New York City lights outside your window goodnight as you’re properly escorted to your makeshift royal chamber.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @deadfables @misshale21 @dragonsfictavern @sweetercalypso @sheraayasher

[quantum1mmortality]

please some vampire bi-han? 🙏🏻

You guys just can't get enough of the vampire writings smh y'all need Jesus(it's me, I'm Jesus and I'm writing this for you because I need it too)

Tw/cw: THIS ISNT GONNA BE AN NSFW BC I ACTUALLY WANT TO MAKE THIS FULL OF STORY!!! IF YOU WANT AN NSFW VERSION, PLEASE ASK ME!!! OR DONT IDC, you guys know the drill by now cmon (highly influenced by Angel from BTVS SUE ME IDC HES HOT)

Not proofread

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Your relationship with Bi Han is a lot more complicated that it would be with Kung Lao or Raiden. He'd often times only visit you at night, and he'd only stay for a few hours.

It all started when you were walking home. Alone, in the dark, not a good match for a young woman. This was proven correct by you almost getting hurt in an accident, but luckily Bi Han was there to save you.

You begged and pleaded with him to tell you someway you could make it up to him. If it wasn't for him, you'd be dead! You thought you owed him your life.

After a few minutes of your back and forth, you saying he deserved something while he said he didn't need anything, you settled on taking him out for coffee.

You guys sat at that cafe for nearly 3 hours just talking. Talking about everything you guys could think of. At the end of the night, which only ended because the cafe was closing, he walked you home.

You didn't think much of it, you'd known each other on a first name basis by now and he just wanted to be nice.

Or at least, that's what you thought. He would show up every night after that, the exact same time, the exact same way, asking the exact same thing. "Would you like to join me for coffee?" Those words would ring in your head in the morning, he just kept coming back, asking the same thing over and over.

You didn't mind it, but at the same time, you found it odd. This man you knew for only 3 hours would come to your house every night, take you out for coffee, pay for everything, take you back home, and wouldn't talk to you again till the next night. Something about him was off, very off, but you didn't know what.

It's not that you didn't feel safe around him, you did, but there was something he wasn't telling you. You knew he wanted to, he just couldn't.

One night, he told you he was a private investigator, even going as far as to show you his official badge. You wanted to know more about it, considering most of the time he'd just ask about you and not talk about himself much.

He went on to say that he'd usually investigate disappearances, murder cases, and even paranormal activity sometimes. Bi Han continued by saying he'd often take care of the source of the crime before the police got to it, somehow always finding out inside information.

You were completely intrigued. You wanted to see him in action, but he said that would be too dangerous for you. He gave you his business card and walked you back home, telling you to swing by his headquarters tomorrow morning and he'll tell you everything you need to know about him.

He said it in such a serious way it sent chills down your spine. This was an offer you couldn't miss. You got up early just to be there on the time you agreed on, walking into I nearly organized office area.

Oddly enough, however, all of the blinds on the windows were completely closed. You thought this was extremely odd, wondering why, but before you could go too deep into thought, you could see Bi Han in the corner of your eye.

"Care for some coffee?" He says with a playful smirk as he points to the full coffee pot on his end table.

He had given you a small tour before taking you to the lower part of the building. "This is where I live, train, sleep, shower, everything. Call it a basement, I call it home."

To be fair, it was a finished basement, completed with rug and hardwood floors and even a spruce ceiling, at least he has taste.

He showed you around even more and ended the tour at his bedroom. "This is my bedroom. I like to keep it simple, but the bed is comfortable, I swear. It's memory foam."

He smiles at you before taking you to the small couch in his living room. He sat you down, and turned to you with a very serious look on his face.

"Y/n, there's something I've been keeping from you. Something I need to tell you. We've known each other for a while now," it's true. You guys have been seeing each other for coffee for the past 4 weeks. This is the very first time you've ever seen him in the day time, odd considering he'd never missed a day of taking you out.

"I know this is gonna sound insane, and I have proof, but I need you to trust me." He let out a deep sigh before continuing, "I'm a vampire."

You just looked at him, in complete disbelief. Not for the reasons you should be, though. You were wondering if he was joking or not.

"Are you being serious? Do you genuinely expect me to believe that?" You said as you chuckle into your hand a bit. He face only grew more serious as he took your hand and led you upstairs, going to the side of one of the windows before opening the blinds and letting you see as his hand began to sizzle. He let out a small gasp of pain as he pulled away, hand now smoking because of the heat.

You were in shock. You still didn't completely believe him, however. "Maybe you just have a skin condition, that doesn't mean anything."

You didn't want to believe the man that you had been talking to for so long was a FUCKING VAMPIRE. it was hard to come to terms with really.

He walked over to you slowly, holding up his hand as the smoldering wound miraculously healed in seconds.

He grabbed your hands, taking them in his as he makes eye contact with you. His gaze softens as he can see the uncertainty in your eyes.

He opens his mouth slowly, showing his retractable fangs. That's it. You were convinced. You gasped as he let go of you, letting you have your space.

"I know this might be a lot to take in, but I hope this doesn't change anything between us. I still care about you."

You genuinely don't know how to feel, conflicted by someone you thought you could trust. How did he go so long without telling you about this? It honestly hurt you to know that he was keeping this from you.

"I think we should have some time off from each other. I need a bit to process this, it's a lot to take in all at once." He could hear fear in your voice, and it broke his heart knowing he was the cause of it.

He nodded his head, watching as you left the building. He leaned back on his desk, wondering what he could've done better, wondering what he could've done to make you feel more safe.

He was going to make it up to you somehow, he just knew you needed time. He was patient, but after waiting so long to make you his, his patience is wearing thin. Very thin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: boom shaka laka