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wordsbyrian · 2 years ago

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Babysitting - Alexia Putellas x Reader

A/N: Multiple people requested a sequel to Good with Kids. Then yesterday I told @wosobot that I would post in exchange for a place on her panini team.

Summary: R and Alexia spend the day babysitting R's niece (but bffr they're practically married so it's Alexia's niece too)

It doesn’t matter what you do for work, everyone looks forward to having days off.

Unfortunately for you, your job as a professional footballer means that for you, actual days off are few and far between. Even on days when you don’t have practice or a game, you find yourself being dragged by your agent from photoshoot to interview and back again.

And yet somehow, today on your day off, you find yourself on babysitting duty, having been suckered into taking your niece to see Barcelona’s men's team play.

Not the worst thing in the world, much better than photoshoots, but you would much rather stay here in bed all day.

Unfortunately, that plan is ruined by your girlfriend’s need to open the blinds and let light into your shared bedroom.

Groaning, you roll over, attempting to bury yourself further under the covers and away from the offending light. You’re stopped when the blanket is tugged from your grasp, exposing your body to the cold morning air.

“No, amor, por favor,” you whine, blindly reaching for the blanket.

“It’s time to get up,” she says, not giving in to your pleas.

“It’s my day off.”

“Si, and you promised to pick Valeria up at 11. It’s already 9:30.”

“That’s plenty of time,” you respond, rolling over to look at her and once again making grabby hands for the blanket. “Give it back please.”

Alexia just raises an eyebrow at you before dropping the offending item to the ground and leaving the room.

“Mujer malvada,” you mutter under your breath before climbing out of bed.

Making your way to the kitchen, you’re unsurprised to see Ale already sitting at the counter holding a cup of coffee and scrolling through her phone.

“What do you want to eat,” you ask, already beginning to search through the fridge to see what you could put together.

“I don’t really have time, Josep is going to be here in 10 minutes,” she tells you.

“I can have a breakfast burrito in your hand in 8,” you say, already beginning to pull out the necessary supplies.

Exactly 8 minutes later, just as you promised, you're handing her a burrito wrapped in foil, and almost simultaneously her phone rings, presumably Josep telling her he’s outside.

Rolling your eyes, you reach behind you and grab a second burrito, similarly wrapped.

“That’s for Josep,” you tell her, handing it over, “Text me when you're finished, Vali and I will come to get you so we can eat before going to the game.”

“Thank you,” Alexia says, leaning over to kiss you. “ Te amo, I’ll see you later.”

“Love you too.” An hour later, you're rushing out of your apartment, phone pressed to your ear as you try to lock the door.

“Yes, Chimo, I know what time I said I was going to be there,” you say, interrupting yourself with a slight a-ha of success as you get the door locked. “But I also know that no one expects me to be on time for anything.”

You roll your eyes as your brother begins his rant about how you’ll need to grow up eventually.

“I’ll become responsible when I stop playing a kid's games for money,” you tell him. “I’ll be there in 10. Make sure my kid is ready to go.”

“Pretty sure Valeria is my child, not yours.”

“Not today. You can have her back at the end of the game.”

“Y/N,” he says, in a warning tone.

“Joaquim,” you mock.

“Please feed my daughter something other than junk food today.”

“Not your daughter today. See you in a bit.”

You’re at Chimo’s mother-in-law’s house at exactly the, new, time you said you would be.

Within 5 minutes, you begin to realize precisely what you’ve gotten yourself into.

By the time you're waiting in a parking lot for Alexia, you’ve made a million and one stops, spending money at just about every one.

So now, leaning against the car while Vali takes a nap in the backseat, it feels like you can finally catch your breath.

Your sense of serenity is broken, but instantly regained, by the sound of someone familiar calling your name.

Looking up you're unsurprised to see your girlfriend walking towards you.

“Hola, mi reina. How was your day,” you ask when she gets close enough.

You get an eye roll in response before Alexia answers with words.

“Waste of time,” she says. “What’d you two get up to?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure we emptied my bank account,” you tell her, earning a laugh. “Vali wants to tell you about it at lunch.”

“Well, she’s a better storyteller than you are anyway,” she says, stepping away from you to make her way to the passenger seat.

“Rude,” you respond, watching her, “I like your pants by the way.”

“You like the sight of my butt in these pants you mean.”

“That too.”

The ride to the restaurant isn’t a very long one but it feels even shorter with the way it’s easy for you to focus on the sound of Alexia’s voice and Valeria’s soft snores in the backseat.

The second you park the car a couple of blocks away from the restaurant it's like the kindergartener had never been asleep at all. She practically jumps out of the car before tugging you and Ale down the street while talking a mile a minute.

Once seated she recounts your day out.

“First, Tia was late picking me up,” Vali explains, earning you a glare from your girlfriend. “But she bought me an ice cream to make up for it.”

“Oh really, ice cream before lunch? Does your papa know?”

“No, but Tia said that when he asks I’m supposed to remind him, he's not the boss of her.”

Another hard stare from Alecia but you don’t do anything but shrug in response, smirking a little when she sighs and shakes her head at you.

Turning her attention back to Valeria, Alexia speaks again, “I wouldn’t listen to your tia this time, nenita, it might get you in trouble.”

“Si?”

“Si. Now, why don’t you tell me about all the other places you went to.”

Valeria instantly perks up before launching into her spiel.

“After we got ice cream, we went to the Lego store in the mall and we got soooo many legos,” she says, practically vibrating in her seat. “We even made figurines that look like all of us! Then we had to go into a couple of boring clothes stores because that was one of the reasons my mom let me come out today.”

“Hey,” you say, interrupting her, “Your mama isn’t in charge of me either.”

“Are you sure,” your niece asks, “Because we did everything she said we had to do.”

“That’s a coincidence,” you respond while rubbing the back of your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Alexia attempting to hold back her laughter from her place seated next to Valeria, the little girl struggling to hold back her own giggles.

Taking offense to this, you glare at both of them before continuing to speak.

“Just be quiet and eat your food. Both of you.”

That obviously does nothing to get them to stop laughing at you, so you take your own instructions and turn your attention back to the plate in front of you.

By the time you leave the restaurant, it seems like your niece has more energy than ever while you feel the need to take a serious nap.

After a quick stop at the car to let Vali change into her Barça jersey and grab the jacket that she will definitely need by the end of the night, the three of you begin the walk to Camp Nou.

The walk to the stadium is quick, so you're fine with letting Valeria run, skip, and jump ahead of you and Ale, occasionally calling her back when she begins to get too far.

Unfortunately, the short walk isn't as peaceful as it could be because you and Alexia find yourselves being approached multiple times by fans asking for photos and autographs.

You do take a few but eventually, you make your way inside and to the box where some of your teammates and club officials are mingling while waiting for kick-off.

You do your best to greet and talk to everyone but it's a little difficult with Valeria attached to your leg (and eventually in your arms once you give in to her whining) the child is suddenly more shy than you've ever seen her.

The clinginess lasts for a while and you’re unsurprised when she plops directly into your lap once you’ve taken your seat.

You don't mind too much, using the opportunity to calmly explain the action of the game to her in a way that's easy for her to understand.

It goes smoothly for the first 30 minutes but then Patri and Pina begin ‘sneaking’ her candy and treats when they think you aren’t paying attention. So you are then stuck with a squirmy little kid on your lap.

By half-time, you need a snack of your own and your legs need a break so you make her stand up so that you could get to your own feet.

Motioning for her to sit back down you begin to walk off only to feel a tug on the back of your shirt.

“What's up pulguita,” you ask, turning around and leaning down.

“Where are you going,” she questions, pouting up at you.

“Gonna take a walk and find a good snack, I was gonna ask what you wanted but you’ve just had a team of people trying to fill you up on candy.”

“You’re gonna leave me here?”

“Do you need to use the restroom?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll be alright, Vali.”

That apparently isn’t very reassuring to the young girl because she continues staring at you but now her lower lip is quivering.

Rolling your eyes and sighing deeply, you pick Vali up under her arms and carry her the few steps to where Alexia is sitting (Patri and Pina had forced her to switch seats for their candy plot).

Standing in front of your girlfriend, you carefully place the child in her lap and take a step back.

When you receive a questioning look you sigh once again and say, “I need 5 minutes to move without her attached to my leg.”

That gets a few laughs from your teammates who are close enough to hear but Alexia just nods giving you the go-ahead, readjusting your niece on her lap.

Exactly 5 minutes later you’re walking back to your seat only to see Mapi in it. Scanning the row, you spot the empty one by Alexia, which you immediately plop yourself into.

“Sup,” you say only to be immediately shushed as she motions to Valeria who is sleeping soundly despite the noise of the crowd.

“How,” you begin to ask only to be shushed again.

Rolling your eyes, you settle more fully into the seat while letting one of your arms wrap around her shoulders, prepared to watch the second health of the game.

It’s a boring one, with neither team scoring and the score remaining nil-nil through 90 minutes.

When it’s all said and done, you're hit with the realization that you're going to have to carry 40 pounds of dead weight back to the car as your niece shows no signs of stirring.

For what must be the hundredth time today, you sigh before bending over and taking Valeria into your arms.

Once you have her settled, you reach out your free hand for Alexia to hold as the two of you say your goodbyes before making your way out of the stadium and to your parked car.

Throughout the entirety of the walk, you’re acutely aware of the fans taking photos of you all but you pay them no real attention this time, only briefly letting go of your girlfriend’s hand so you can cover Valeria’s head more fully with the hood of her jacket.

There’s no need for her face to be plastered all over the internet, she didn’t sign up for this.

Once you’re all in the car, you’re not surprised when ALe pulls out her phone and begins to scroll casually running her fingers across the knuckles of the head you have placed on her thigh.

“Amor,” she says suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“Have you seen this?”

“I think my phone’s dead,” you say, quickly glancing over at her. “Que pasa?”

“They’ve already started posting pictures of us at the game.”

“Vale.”

“Vale?”

“Si, vale.”

“That’s all you have to say,” she asks.

“Do you want me to say something else?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then,” you say seriously, “Are they good pictures? How does my hair look?”

“Y/N/N.”

“Amor, it’s not like people don’t know that we’re dating,” you tell her calmly. “They also know that pulguita comes with me sometimes, it’s all okay, everything’s okay.”

“So it’s fine then.”

“Yup,” you respond, making the turn into your brother’s neighborhood. “The only thing left to do is carry Vali and all her stuff to her room”

“I’ll take the bags.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?”

“Because you’re not as dumb as you look,” Alexia says affectionately.

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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betweenujb · 1 year ago

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acquainted

ceo!momo x supermodel!sana

warnings: smut, dom/sub, posessive momo, implied overstimulation

Momo had just finished closing one of the biggest deals of the year for her company when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She had silenced all her notifications except ones from Sana, and her wife knew that she was in a meeting so it must have been important. Excusing herself, she checked her phone only to see a text that sent her blood pressure through the roof.

sweet girl: i know you're busy with a meeting baby but one of the models is getting a little handsy with me

lover: no, sweetheart. it's not a problem at all. i'll be there in five minutes

The words that Momo typed out were loving and full of nothing but care for her wife, but inside she felt like she was going to explode. Every person who worked with Sana and every person who worked for Momo, all the way down to the cleaning people, knew that her wife was off limits.

Momo was beyond pissed and every single person at the photo shoot site knew it. The second the doors flung open and the people on the site turned their heads, it went silent. With every step Momo took, it felt like a dark cloud was descending on them, the woman's heels reverberating in through the room.

Momo's eyes scanned the male model's faces, jaw clenched. Usually, she had no issue with the male models. They knew to keep their hands to themselves, and they knew the consequences if they didn't. Usually, they didn't have a death wish.

Maybe I'm being too lenient, Momo thought as her sight homed in on the one who was harassing her precious Sana. The bastard who was touching Sana only moments ago still had a smirk on his face that Momo wanted to smack into next week. She pushed her way past the other models and stood centimeters away from him.

Being short didn't stop Momo. In fact, it made her feel even more powerful. Seeing six-foot-tall men cower under her look let her know she was the one calling the shots.

Momo grabbed the model's tie and pulled him down to her level aggressively enough that he stumbled. Her eyes were almost black with rage as she leaned in and whispered, voice barely audible. "If you aren't out of this building in the next 20 seconds, I will make your life a living hell. If you ever touch my wife again, I will make sure you go home in a fucking body bag."

This was all the warning the model needed. In 10 seconds, he bolted out of the building, barely grabbing the bag he brought with him. Momo took a deep breath, only turning around to face Sana once she saw the door slam behind him.

Like a switch had flipped, Momo's expression was gentle again. Her hands were gentle as she wrapped them around Sana's waist. She gave her a quick kiss before walking to one of the chairs behind the studio lights. With the snap of her fingers, the camera crew was back to work.

Fortunately, the rest of Momo's work for the day involved phone calls to other fashion CEOs and modeling agents. She'd be damned if she left Sana's photoshoot before she was done.

"Sweetheart do you know who that dumb fucker worked for?" Momo asked, monotone as she tapped her finger against the steering wheel.

Sana glanced up from her phone, looking up at the roof of their car as she wracked her brain for a company name. "I think he worked for some small sub-company under Dior or something like that."

Momo silently nodded and took Sana's free hand in hers. She intertwined their fingers and placed a gentle kiss on the back of Sana's hand. "I'll make sure to have a word with his agent."

The slightly aggravated tone in Momo's voice caused Sana to blush a bit. She had always been susceptible to Momo's controlling and protective nature. Whether it was firing someone because they forgot her sweet girl's coffee or practically wiping them off the face of the earth because they accidentally brushed against her ass, it caused Sana's nerves to go haywire.

Deciding to see how far she could push Momo before they got home, Sana leaned over the center console, her dress revealing enough that Sana's lacy bra was peeking out from underneath. She put on her pout that she knew had Momo wrapped around her finger and brought their hands up to her lips.

"I tried to tell everyone on the set what he was doing," a small kiss to the tips of Momo's fingers, "but they didn't seem to care. They were too busy telling me to pose better," the flat of her tongue pressing against Momo's index finger, "and they wouldn't do anything about him, so I just let him keep going."

Sana's words dug their way into Momo's brain. Her wife knew what she was doing and even if nothing she said was true, it still made her grip the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. She glanced at Sana, that oh so fake innocence written across her face making her fold fast.

Momo pulled her hand out of Sana's grasp and grabbed her face, fingers digging into her cheeks. "If I knew you wanted to be such a slut then maybe I should have just left you to deal with him alone."

Sana gulped. She knew that it was only an empty threat, but it was enough to make her desperate for more. It wasn't often that Momo would get rough with her, but when she did, it made her see stars every single time.

They barely made it through the doors of the penthouse before Momo picked Sana up in her arms, slamming her against the wall in the entryway. Momo's hands on Sana's hips were almost bruising, her grip was so tight. She leaned up to Sana's ear, breath hot and low as she muttered, "You're not going to be thinking of anything but me and my name once I'm done with you, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. Just with one simple name, Sana was putty in Momo's hands. Momo's to play with and fuck until she could barely walk in the morning. But that wasn't Momo's problem. Especially not when her wife decided to tease her like that in the car.

"Momo please..." Sana gasped out as Momo's hand bunched her wife's dress up, hand dipping into her panties. Momo didn't care that it was a $5,000 dress. She could just get Sana a brand new one with the wave of her hand.

Sana's breath hitched as the heel of Momo's hand pressed against her clit. It was providing her with just enough pressure to have her squirming in her wife's arms.

Not wanting to drop her to the ground, Momo set Sana down and immediately dragged her to their large bedroom. She aggressively picked her wife up, throwing her in the middle of their king-sized bed. Momo almost lost her composure seeing Sana's dress ride up, revealing the large wet spot on her wife's panties.

The lust in her eyes and the need to prove she was better than that bastard could ever be, Momo wasted no time in taking her clothes off. She threw her suit jacket, shirt, and tie behind her, leaving her in just her pants.

Sana's mouth watered at the sight as Momo stalked over to the edge of the bed and crawled up to where she was. Sana tried to reach her hand out to touch any part of Momo's bare skin she could. Her hands only had the chance to ghost over Momo's toned abs though as her wife grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head.

"You really want me that bad, sweetheart? You sure you don't want that bastard touching you earlier to keep going?" Momo's voice was thick with desire. She wanted Sana as much as her wife wanted her, but she couldn't let her movements falter.

Sana vigorously shook her head, doe eyes staring up into Momo's dark ones. "No, Momo. Only you. Need you inside of me!"

"What's the magic word, sweet girl?" Momo's fingers brushed over her panties, applying the lightest amount of pressure to her swollen clit.

"P-please! Please Momo!"

"Was that so bad, sweetheart?" Momo asked, not giving Sana even a second to answer before she plunged two fingers deep into her wife's tight, wet heat.

Sana's body jerked as her hips thrusted into Momo's hand. The slight sting of being stretched so suddenly was just what she needed. "Oh, fuck!"

The smirk on Momo's face barely hid the amount of pleasure she was getting just from having her fingers inside of Sana. The way her fingers were being squeezed and sucked in, Sana's body was desperate for more.

"Barely even touched you yet and you're already so loud, baby." Momo let Sana's hands go, but Sana knew better than to move them from the headboard. She bucked her hips up into Momo's hand, the sheer force of Momo's fingers plunging in and out of her enough to make her dizzy already.

Momo pulled the top of Sana's dress down further, the fabric ripping more and more with each harsh tug until Sana's breasts spilled out. "What a slut. Barely even wearing a bra." Momo shook her head and leaned down, gently biting and sucking the stiff nipples through the thin lace.

Sana's body was on fire, her moaning only growing louder as Momo pushed a third finger into her. It was taking everything in her to not reach down and claw at Momo's back to release some pressure, but she knew that if she did, Momo would never let her cum.

Momo's fingers were thrusting in and out at a furious pace, her thumb pressing against Sana's clit. "Whose pussy is this, baby? Is it that dumb motherfucker's?"

Momo and Sana both knew the answer to such an oh-so-obvious question, but Momo needed to hear Sana. Needed to hear the whines and moans she let out as she fucked into her sweet girl.

"Only yours, Momo! Your pussy!" Sana's face was a shade brighter as she barely got her words out in between Momo's thrusts. That little coil in the pit of her stomach was getting tighter and tighter and she knew she wasn't going to last much longer.

"That's right, sweetheart. My pussy. Mine to fuck and fill up." The lewd, wet noises of her fingers pumping in and out of Sana combined with Sana's ear-piercing moans were almost enough for Momo to go over the edge herself. But this wasn't about her. It was about making Sana cum over and over again until she learned her lesson.

"Momo! Gonna- so close!" Sana could barely keep her eyes open as the coil in her stomach got tighter and tighter.

"That's it, sweet girl. Cum for me." Momo's voice was much softer as pulled Sana’s excuse for a bra off to lick and suck on her breasts.

The combined sensations were too much and quickly, Momo's fingers were being squeezed to death, Sana's cum flooding out of her and covering her wife's fingers as she screamed her wife's name over and over again. "Momo! Momo! Momo!"

Sana's breathing was labored as she closed her eyes, her body shaking as Momo's fingers gently pumped in and out of her. She felt like she'd just been shot out of a cannon and when she felt Momo's fingers leave her, she thought that was it.

When Sana felt the flat of Momo's tongue against her sensitive clit, her breath caught in her throat, hands flying to tangle into Momo's hair. "F-fuck. Can't. No more."

Momo just shook her head, replacing her mouth with her thumb as she looked up to Sana, her eyes dark with greed and a sweet smile plastered to her face. "This is what you wanted so bad, baby. You're gonna cum for me as many times as I want like the little slut you are."

#twice smut #twice #twice imagines #sana #momo #kpop smut #girl group smut #sana x momo #minatozaki sana #hirai momo #gg smut

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maybe-boys-do-love · 3 months ago

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The Trainee, Episode 10: Direction

Take a break from the discourse around the couples to appreciate the references to directing in this episode! From the literal meanings to directions in life.

We open on Ryan's dad directing Jane's photoshoot. lol. You fix those clothes, Ryan ;) And Jane, give us a smile like your falling head over heels for someone.

2. Then we get Pah (making friends with every single person at the office, as usual) directing the front desk assistant (I haven't caught her name and she's not on the mydramalist or imdb cast and crew list) to a spot for lunch. Then we have the accounting manager come in and show us how her and Pah's relationship has grown. The scene reminds us that Pah, since early on in the show, has demonstrated incredible relationship building skills--a necessity for any director. And these relationships come to a beautiful fruition in this episode.

3. Tae, on the other hand, emerges as a directionless ghost, jump-scare appearance and all! Heartbroken and provided with downtime by his department for the first time during his internship, he has no idea what to do with himself.

4. Pi and Ryan are seemingly talking about the controversial Todd Haynes film, Joker, from 2019. If you're either knowledgeable about the Batman franchises or interested like me in trying to figure out why the writers chose this film to include as a conversation point, you'll realize that Harvey Dent was not in Joker. He was, however, in The Dark Knight in 2008, directed by Christopher Nolan. This mix-up between the movies seems intentional when we look at the theories of directing and humanity the show is exploring, which I'll expand on in number 5! In Joker, we get a depiction of a single misunderstood victim genius who takes out his suffering and any failures of his art on others and inspires other people who feel hurt and misunderstood to do the same. In Dark Knight, we have the day saved thanks to a collective group of people's refusal to harm others despite threats that others will be forced to harm them, and, as far as Harvey Dent, his reputation is preserved despite his failings because of the hope it can bring others. The comparison sets up a comparison between the individual heroes and villains versus the collective, which is a really important comparison to ideas the show explores about directors (and is just really important in general theories of direction like conversations about auteur theory, etc.). Note that Jane says in this ep that he doesn't like hero movies...

5. We then see Judy directing Ba Mhee on how to correct her typo on a document. She's checking over a draft before it goes out, like a good director ought to, but Judy's direction of Ba Mhee, of course, gets taken up as a motif and major sticking point for their dynamic in this episode as it encroaches into personal time rather than just work. We have witnessed that outside of work, Ba Mhee is actually quite capable and eager to play the directing role.

I want to point to the specific typo mistake that read "God Pick" instead of the company's name of "Good Pick," though, because it seems to refer to one view of a director's role. Alfred Hitchcock explained, "...in fiction film the director is god; he must create life. And in the process of that creation, there are lots of feelings, forms of expression, and viewpoints that have to be juxtaposed. We should have total freedom to do as we like." So this moment of direction gives us two references, for the price of one!

Even more, it presents us with the theory of auteur Directors, that the show has been actively engaging with through the whole series. Does the director have a god-like power to pick and choose what they want their work to be without any input from others? Do individuals, as directors of our lives, get to pick and choose what we create out of them without others' input? To both answers, the show has emphatically replied, no! The studio is not called God Pick, it's 'Good Pick.' The director, just like each of us, is working on communicating with a whole massive team of people to bring a certain vision of theirs' to life within quite constrained limits. From budgets to time, from client desires to our own insecurities, we do our best to be good knowing that mistakes will be made and we can pick up and keep on going.

6. Baimon, the director of the studio, instructs Pie on some of the grunt work of directing. He's been presented as so flighty in the series, so it was nice to see him getting down to business in this fashion. That business, however, was printed upon the backs of some big emotions, which I think, in addition to being a funny little gag about Jane and Ryan's hidden relationship, is a beautiful metaphor about the combination of emotional and logistic work that directors, especially, are tasked with performing. A vulnerability lies under each shot and camera angle.

7. Idk if this was intentional, but the choice to show sticky-notes as the art department's current medium for this scene reminded me of directors story-boarding with sticky notes. It's also the moment Tae is encouraged to make an attempt at directing himself and providing his direction to his relationship with BaMhee in a way that's considerate of her desires.

8. Baimon directs Jane and Ryan in another intimate scene lol. He's staging them, referencing the storyboard, checking the camera, doing all the director jobs! And, of course, instead of a perfect god, he makes a mistake with the very basics of left and right that his intern corrects for him, and this mistake is not used by the show to signal to us as the audience that he's incompetent. It's to show that the people with 'big' dreams, visions, careers, or awards are not more special than those who choose to do the small tasks in life. Directors are the first job Ryan lists to Jane when talking about adults with special talents that he feels like he's supposed to aspire towards. Jane asks Ryan "Why must people want to become something big?"

There's also a development in Ryan and Jane's performance here. They're playing and improvising in the scene. It's a nice development for them as character and a sweet commentary on directors allowing actors to perform with some flexibility. Based on what I've read about Gun and Off's development as actors and a pair, their characters' development in their different stand-in moments almost seems like a commentary on Gun and Off's growth as a performing pairing, but that's just a fun stretch. Really, I'd say it's more representative of the growing comfort of actors in film work.

9. How could I not discuss one of my favorite sequences in the show (right up there with BaMhee's chase scene)?! Pah has been amassing a crew of comrades at the studio throughout the series, and I knew it was building towards something. I stated during the first shoot when he was a part of Unit B that I could see his arc leading him to becoming a director because he was just so good at befriending and organizing people. And here's where he becomes the director! Not through his personal auteur vision, but through his communication with others!

I had been imagining this plot development in some fashion for a while. Getting it would've satisfied me. Great comedy for me, however, is about seeing a well-constructed set-up pay off for a better value than you could've expected. The Alfred Hitchcock quote above comes from a portion of an interview about plausibility in fiction and his films. He ends the quote by saying, "A critic who talks to me about plausibility is a dull fellow." The moment Pah slid off his sling, The Trainee leapt out of the realm of plausibility it had meticulously built to give us a stratospheric pay-off to the joke it had been building for 9 episodes. And it was a joke grounded in the deepest themes of the show, praising every creator and assistant working in the background of this show and all the shows we love. It made my heart so full. It presented a democratic vision of a director's role (in a country where people continue to need to fight for their democratic values). And, it did it all while making me laugh.

10. Despite all the people running this scene and Judy giving Ba Mhee so much direction in the workplace, it's Ba Mhee who finally gets to realize her direction in life here. Notably, she's let go of the big overly romantic dreams and visions. She's come to appreciate and understand the importance of the seemingly mundane aspects of her relationships, the day-to-day jobs of directing one's life, and she's directing Tae to commit to this direction, too. Directing involves paying attention to the small things, the communication, and the people who help make them meaningful.

There's a beautiful transition between Judy's conversation with BaMhee and Tae's where they fade into one another exactly, letting us know in some ways that Judy and BaMhee could've had a conversation and started growing and finding a direction together, too. The problem as BaMhee points out is not finding an exact right fit. She just still has feelings for Tae, which would make developing a relationship with Judy more challenging. It was mature and honest, and that precious little fade let us know the show saw the possibilities for BaMhee to love them both. Has a film cutting choice ever been so bisexually coded???

10. It's a cute little reversal that our final scene is one of the first steps in directing: the concept stage. We also get Jane's appreciation, not only for Ryan's ideas here, but for all the things Ryan does at his family's business that align with the same kind of work happening in a production house. It sets the two of them on equal footing, disrupting this fantasy of the film industry and the class systems that could divide them. And Ryan's other insecurity about feeling too immature and un-adult to compare to the people at the office, which is a another division that might separate Jane and Ryan (HOW OLD IS JANE!?!?!?!) also got a dressing down ;) during this episode. We're getting ever closer to Ryan feeling ready to direct his own life!!!

#the trainee #the trainee the series #gmmtv #offgun #janeryan #ba mhee #taebamhee #judybamhee

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heygerald · 4 months ago

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Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 10

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When Parker gets to spend some more one on one time with Tom, she's left wondering how it's possible that no one else can see him the way she does. Maybe, rose colored glasses aren't so bad after all.

Read the story here: prev / next

Three weeks pass without much fanfare.

Tom, as it turns out, actually does live quite a busy life as an A-list celebrity, and when he's not recording a new paid advertisement or championing photoshoots, he's flying from one state to another to do appearances on various talk shows. It's weird going so long without seeing him—weirder even when Parker thinks about how shortly they've known one another, yet how he's somehow become a part of her routine—and though they share an occasional text message here or there, for the most part she doesn't hear much from him.

She's disappointed, but also understanding, and so rather than sit around moping about the lack of Ryder in her life, Parker uses the time to focus on tackling Melissa's ever growing list of renovations in her bookstore. The last of the shelf liners get pasted, the paint is finished, half of her tacky posters are replaced with thrifted decorations and the other half are spruced up with wooden frames. She adds a coat rack by the door, buys a new welcome mat, and even gives some life back to the tattered reading chair thanks to the cleaning underworld of YouTube.

It's a lot of work, definitely more than she had originally envisioned when propositioned by the teenager, but when it's all said and done...

Well, it's worth it.

Parker has never been so in love with her shop as she is now. She comes in early to straighten her latest arrivals, and hangs around late to sweep underneath the shelves. She's always loved her little shop—it's the only thing in her life that has ever, unequivocally, been hers—but it's better now; now it's something she can take pride in showing off.

And showing off she does. The throng of customers increases throughout the weeks. Not enough to add a couple more employees to her roster, but enough to add a modicum of business to her days. Melissa has somehow enlisted half of her high school to stop through; teeny-boppers hoping to catch glimpses of Tom, and young boys hoping to gawk at the teeny-boppers. Plus, she's been dropping flyers off at Crave Cafe on the daily that seem to be drawing in tourists and retirees alike.

It's not quite success, but it's close.

And damn if it doesn't feel good.

"What are you all smiley about?" her brother asks as if specifically trying to ruin said good feeling. "You look like you're high. Are you high?"

"You look like you're high all the time," she rebuts with a bite of her sandwich.

"That's—I have small eyes, you know that. It just looks like I'm squinty and red when it's too bright," he says in that upsettingly righteous tone of his. It's an excuse she's heard before, and when Parker arches a brow at him, he huffs. "It's—blame Mom! I didn't ask to look like this."

"Aw, Mom doesn't look like an idiot, Colt. That's all you."

His features flatten, deadpan eyes. "Ha, ha, ha. That's hilarious. Soooooo hilarious that I almost forgot to laugh. Almost as hilarious as the first time you made that joke. When was that—the seventh grade?"

She smirks around her straw, and Colt sinks in his chair to cross his arms.

"I was just trying to make conversation," he says, waving his arms around at her. The movement scares off a nearby pigeon, and she watches its flight with languid eyes. "Trying to be nice, see what's new in your life or whatever, but you just had to take it too far."

"That's you being nice?"

"Always have to take it too far," he continues, ignoring her to shove some fries into his mouth. They're sitting at a picnic table outside, a sun umbrella with bright red stripes propped open above their head, the beach in the near distance swelling with the smell of saltwater and taffy, and despite his demeanor, Parker sports a blithe smile. It's a nice day; too nice to be truly bothered by her petulant child of a brother. "Next time, you can buy yourself lunch."

"Oh, hit me where it hurts," she jokes. He shakes his head at her, more fries gone, and all it takes is her offer of an onion ring for Colt to be smiling too. "I'm just happy with how works going. We finished painting, finally, and I think I hit a record for customers this week."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, I think most of them still have braces, but I'm not complaining. If I hired Melissa a few months ago I might have been rich by now."

He makes a face at the mention of her employee, and Parker rolls her eyes. Only Colt would have beef with a high schooler.

"I suppose I can pop in after this, give it a look. See if it's up to par."

"I forgot you were an expert. Where'd you go to school again? Was it Carnegie Mellon? Or Pratt?"

Colt shakes his head at her teasing, but there's no love lost between the siblings. They argue about arguing about arguing. It was pretty much a natural response at this point in their lives. And though she was arguably better at it than him—Colt had a real problem with being tongue-tied, wit was certainly not his forte—every once in a while he gave as good as he got.

"Yeah, well, you're successful, I'm successful. I guess it's a family trait. Glad to hear the store is doing well, though. I was worried I'd have to pay your rent for Christmas again this year, and, well... I really didn't want to."

"Magnanimous as ever," she joked with a sip of her soda.

"What? Three years in a row? I'm not Santa Claus. I do have a life, and I've been eyeing this really nice mountain bike lately."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Since when do you mountain bike?"

"Since—well... shut up. Can't a guy have hobbies?"

"Why can't you ever have a normal hobby? One that won't end up with you in the emergency room or on my couch for three weeks."

He rolled his eyes to jab some fries in her direction. "That was once, and it was a hernia. It had nothing to do with my hobbies. Besides, you read for fun. I'm not going to take criticism from someone that can't even walk up the stairs without hurting herself."

"I can!"

"Oh, can you?"

Parker flung an onion ring at him, only to have it backfire when Colt victoriously stuffed it into his mouth. She probably should have seen that one coming. She half considered throwing her phone at him next, but it was at that moment that their waitress stopped by to check on them, and by the time she'd left Parker didn't feel so inclined for violence.

A good thing for her brother considering he quite literally needed his body functioning for work.

Speaking of, "how's work for you going? When's filming start?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Not for a bit, but I've been working on some stunt coordination with Dan and the other guys already. This sci-fi movie is really stepping it up from the last one. I've already had to learn a couple new moves."

"Like what?"

"Rolls, jumps, fighting sequences, jumping out of a moving car. That sort of thing."

Parker considered that, before frowning. Suspiciously, she narrowed her eyes at him. "What exactly is this movie about again?"

"NASA," he said around a bite of his burger, as if that explained anything. It didn't; not in the least, but before she could badger him some more he finished the last of his food with a belch. Any thoughts evaporated at the disgusting display, and she waved the air in front of her a grimace. "Now, I gotta go see a man about a goat."

"That's not the—"

He was gone before she could correct him, and when the door inside fluttered close with a fwap, Parker just settled into her seat with the shake of her head.

"Idiot," she said, stealing a sip of his beer now that he wasn't around to guard it. Colt got like a dog when it came to his food and drinks, and despite him always asking for some of her food, she rarely got the same treatment in return. Thoughtfully, she took another sip, adding, "bastard," just because it felt warranted.

She was almost done her own sandwich when the table shook beneath the buzzing of her phone.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get gone before...

"Hello?" she mumbles through a mouth full of onion rings, phone tucked into the crevice of her shoulder as she wipes the grease off her fingers.

Only her brother would sniff out the greasiest restaurant on this side of LA for a casual lunch.

"Are you—are you eating?" a judgmental voice asks; as if he can see her slumped at the table, stuffing her face, and sucking down soda like it was nobody's business.

Parker immediately sits up straighter, swallowing the remaining food with a grimace, before lying, "no, of course not. That's rude and gross and, you know, totally not what I'm...."

Subtly, Parker glances around the patio. There's a couple sitting at her left, a family at the table on the far right, but other than that there's not a soul to be seen besides the occasional tourist trying to catch the bus. Certainly no Tom Ryder to be found spying on her from the bushes.

"Er, what's up buttercup?" she says, then immediately cringes at how overly causal that question was. What's up buttercup? she mouths to herself. "You don't—that's—what are you doing?"

The line is quiet for a moment, but she swears she can hear Tom shaking his head at her in the interim. But, when he speaks, he sounds no more scornful than normal. "I just got back from New York. Well, got back this morning, anyways. I just woke up from a nap."

"Oh, right! You were on Fallon last night."

"You watched it?" he asks, and this time, he does sound smugger than normal. Though, she supposes his usual levels of smugness was already more than the normal person. Tom Ryder really did love to brag about himself; even more, he loved when other people bragged about him.

"Don't be ridiculous," she tuts, shaking the ice in her drink as she sips it. She tries her hand at scornful as well, but it comes across teasing and light. "Even I draw the line at late night television. Melissa was talking about it this morning."

"Oh?" he hums. "And what'd she think?"

"That you looked even dreamier than usual. And then something about barking, but, honestly, I was a little too afraid to ask what that meant so do with that what you will. Was it fun?"

"I guess. Fallon isn' t so bad. The time difference is killer, though."

She hums, not having any idea what it would be like to travel back and forth across the country multiple times in a few days, but imagining that it likely did suck. "Kudos to you for being awake at all. I think I would have just slept all day, and then been awake all night, and then the cycle would continue until I died from caffeine overdose."

He laughed, and Parker chewed on her straw to keep a stupid smile from splitting across her face. "Maybe that's a reason why you're not famous."

"Right. The only reason I'm not famous," she teased, and when he snorted, she didn't bother to hide her grin. It's a good thing she wasn't at home or she might be lying on her bed, twirling some hair, and kicking her feet in the air like a lovesick idiot.

Speaking of idiots—she glanced towards the door and sighed in relief when her brother was still nowhere to be seen. It wouldn't be long, now, as he had a habit for bad timing.

Knowing this, she asked, "listen, could I call you back later? I'm out with Colt right now and I swear to god he's like a baby when I'm not paying attention to him. Unless you want to be put on speakerphone, that is."

Tom scoffed. "You ever consider getting him a babysitter?"

"He's not up to date on his vaccinations," she joked with a dramatic sigh. "And the kennel stopped taking him after he bit that other dog."

Tom laughed again, and it felt like a victory. Especially since he had called her, and here she was asking to call back later. The guilt didn't have any time to fester, however, before he was moving on. "Well, listen, I thought maybe since I was back in town that we could, er, get dinner. Have dinner, I mean, at my place."

"Oh," she said, so thrown off by the offer that she didn't really know what else to say. She quite literally hadn't stopped thinking about getting lunch with Tom on set a few weeks back; it had been so nice, so fun, to just hang out with him—no Gail, no Colt, no drunken executives or paintball warfare to distract them—just him that she had already planned on accompanying Colt onto set as often as she could manage in hopes of doing it again. She hoped the fact that he was offering meant he enjoyed it too. "Oh! Yeah, sure! That sounds great."

"Great," he echoed. "My place? After you get off work?"

"Sure," she said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically given the fact that he couldn't see her through the phone. Her thoughts drifted to work, and immediately she wondered if she could close early or talk Melissa into pulling a double. "Do you want me to bring some more books? I know you already got the role and everything, but I could bring some more recommendations for you to talk about tonight. Or you could just explain to me the plot of the movie because I'm honestly so confused about it already. Actually, I think I still have some napkins in my purse..."

She shifted through said purse, rattling through a mess of tampons, coins, bobby pins, receipts, and collection of rocks that she thought looked cute but never knew what to do with as Tom cleared his throat across the line.

"You don't need to—" he started, before sighing. As if he there was a bigger picture here that she wasn't quite seeing. Parker, too enthralled in why she had four different buttons in her purse didn't even notice. "I'll just see you later?"

"I'll text you when I get off work."

"Alright," he said. "It's a date."

And then, before Parker could question whether that was just a colloquial saying he used from time to time, a joke, or the reality of what this whole thing was going to be, Tom hung up.

She stared at the buttons in her hand, dial tone buzzing in her ear.

In perfect timing, her brother flopped into the seat across from her, and snatched a onion ring off of her plate. He swept his gaze from her plate to her phone to the buttons in her hand.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"Er," she said, wondering the very same thing, before slowly dropping said phone and buttons back into her purse. "Nothing. Just... nothing."

Colt took that in, thought it through, and then pointed to her plate.

"So, uh, are you going to finish that?"

---

Parker doesn't get to give the date versus dinner conundrum much more thought over the next couple of hours due to a constant flow of customers, deliveries, and teenagers. She thinks the sudden business might be penance for taking a long lunch with her brother, made even longer when he insisted on hunting down some iced coffee after their meal, and when she does make it back to the shop Melissa is so relieved that she practically melts on her feet.

And though the teenager does agree to stick around for a double shift, Parker finds that she's too occupied to sneak out early anyway, and by the time she gets a moment to catch her breath she's already running late.

There's no time to fix her hair or grab a change of clothes, just as there's no time to do anything about the smell of old, papery books clinging to her besides drive with the windows down at a speed likely to get her a ticket. That, of course, only seems to frazzle her braids even worse than they started the day with, and by the time she's parking in Tom's driveway, she looks likes she's just finished an eighteen hour shift down at the docks.

Please let him have gone blind, she thinks while hastily taking out her braids with paper-cut laden fingers. It's a mess of tangles and knots due to her driving, however, and by the time it's straightened out she's running even more late than she originally was.

Hoping out of her car, Parker doesn't think of anything as she rushes up the steps, knocks a hasty staccato, rocking on her feet with a wayward glance down at her dirty sneakers that certainly don't belong walking on real wood floors.

Please don't throw up, she thinks next, stomach in her throat.

Please—

Any thoughts are silenced when the door swings open, and Tom Ryder is suddenly there.

She's speechless as she takes him in; dark slacks, a white tee, jean jacket with a gold chain that catches in the light, freshly clean sneakers that put her dirty ones to shame. He looks good in the way that he always does; polished and shiny, Hollywood and new, but his hair is airdried and lacking gel, his beard freshly shaved, sleep lines dotting the skin along his cheeks.

He looks good, but he also looks comfortable and soft. Natural, in a way that she's never seen him look before.

"...hi," she says dumbly.

Tom's gaze, having been taking her in the same way that she was taking him in, snaps back up to her face, and with a characteristic eyeroll and huff, he echoes, "hi. You coming in or...?"

"Oh, right."

Parker flushes but enters, and his house seems so different than the last time she was there that she cranes her neck to gander. Without people flush wall to wall she's able to see the character of the house better, taking in the hues of orange and yellow paint, the shiny brown age spots on the wooden floor, taupe pillows and white fuzzy blankets sprawled messily across the couch. ESPN is playing on mute, music drifting from the kitchen, a mess of protein powders and vitamin bottles scattered across the marble island in addition to dirty pans.

A reminder that he's a person as much as a celebrity, and Parker smiles at the thought.

"Where should I put my shoes?" she asks.

He blinks at her, already halfway back to the kitchen. "What? Just wear them."

Parker glances down at the muddy soles of her sneakers knowing just how many questionable places they've walked through, and with nothing more than a glance at the too white couch she bends to untie them. Tom rolls his eyes a second time, and she scoffs in response. "What? I'm not trying to mess up anything here. I can't even imagine what you're cleaning bill must be like."

"You're not going to mess anything up," he says. "And if you do, it doesn't matter. I have maids for that shit. You really think I clean this whole place myself?"

She tsks, imagining how nice that must be. "Ooh-la-la, look at me, I'm Tom Ryder and I have maids and—" she mimics, only to slip on the first step she takes in her socks. "Okay, that's humbling. It's like an ice skating rink in here. What kind of polish do they use? Pine sol on crack?"

"Do you really think I have the answer to that?"

"Something fancy, I bet," she continues, head on a swivel as she ambles closer. Even the ceiling looks free of cobwebs. "You should give your maids a raise. Very nice, Ryder. Very nice. Consider me impressed and a little scared of their ability."

"I'm glad you're impressed," he drones, clearly not caring in the slightest, but she wiggles her eyebrows at him anyways, and Tom bites back a smile. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Good," he nods, pulling a wine glass down for her. "I made paella."

"You made it? I change my mind, I'm not hungry at all, " she teases, accepting the glass from him. It's a hefty pour of red wine—not necessarily her favorite—but Parker doesn't doubt it's expensive and some sort of collector's edition so she keeps that to herself. Tom seems so used to just giving people things instead of asking for their preference that she tries not to be too miffed about it.

He shoots her a deadpan look, betrayed only by the amusement in his eyes. "You think I'm going to poison you?"

"No, I think you're going to force feed me some sort of seaweed, or, like, lemon grass salad under the presumption it's good for me."

"Seaweed is good for you."

"For facials, maybe," she rebuts with a sip of wine. It is good, just dry, and Parker takes reminds herself to drink it slowly. Tom doesn't seem all too amused by her teasing, however, and she reminds herself that food seemed to be a touchy subject with him. Still, her stomach is despairingly empty, and she's thankful for the music just so he wouldn't hear it growling. "Just tell me there's some sort of meat and I'll be happy. And not, like, tofu. I don't care what PETA says that stuff tastes like cardboard."

"Are you so poor that you're eating cardboard now? That's disgusting."

"Tom Ryder thinks poor people are disgusting," she echoes with a smile, and she can tell just from the look he shoots her that he's amused. "Who should I sell that to? TMZ or Perez Hilton?"

He shakes his head at her but moves towards the patio, and with nothing else to do, she follows on socked feet. "Hilton is a tool, you'd get more money if you went to TMZ," he said, playing along. "Anyway, you don't need to worry about that. I'm not eating seaweed on a cheat day, and travel days are always cheat days. Plus, it would just be wasted on you."

It's an playful insult, and even if it wasn't it's not one she would care about, and so Parker sips her wine with an indifferent shrug as he continues.

"Anyway, I made paella. The salad is on the side."

"You made—?"

Her scathing retort comes up empty when they step out onto the patio, and Parker is met with a table flush with food. There's a large steel pan of paella in the middle, a heaping of bruschetta on the side, brussels sprouts and green beans in a beautifully printed dish on one side, a large serving of salad on the other. There are placemats, linen napkins, fancy silverware, and a bottle of chilled water in the middle.

Parker stops short.

Tom, already seated, gives her an odd look. "What?"

She knows there's a more tactful way to frame it, but the first and only thing that comes out of her mouth is a rushed question of, "is this actually a date?"

He blinks at her, before pouring himself some more wine. He's calm, collected in his movements, but his shrug is stiff. "It's dinner."

"A dinner date," she corrects.

"It's dinner," he reiterates, glancing back at her before immediately glancing away. Clearing his throat, Tom shifts in his seat to stretch an arm over the back of his chair; a catalogue worthy pose with the dark sky of LA behind him. "It's a date. What difference does it make? Have you never been on a date before or something?" he asks in a tone she can't quite place.

Teasing, but serious. Cocky, but hesitant.

Yet, Parker is too distraught to think about the paradox that is Tom Ryder, and instead throws her hands up. "Okay," she announces. "I'm leaving."

"Wait—what?" he asks, standing with a screech of his chair as Parker turns on her heel. She makes it two steps before turning back again, head feeling like a nest of squirrels as she tries to put her thoughts in order.

"I can't—Tom—honestly! I'll be back in, like, an hour. Maybe. Probably not. Is there an outlet near here? Oh, they'll all be closed. Okay, maybe two hours then. Or maybe we could just reschedule to, like, Monday night so I have time to—"

"Parker, what the fuck are you going on about?" he interrupts her derailed train of thought. It's an innocent question, well-meaning, but honestly the fact that he doesn't know pisses her off.

She gestures at herself with a wild flap of the arms.

"Look at me! Look at you!" Her jeans are ripped and tattered, cut in places where they weren't originally intended, and faded on the butt from years of use; her sweater was found at a yard sale (five dollars, but she haggled for three) and the tank-top beneath was stretched at all the wrong spots. Even her socks—why did she insist on taking off her shoes?—were mismatch shades of orange. "I can't wear this on a date! Our date! A date with you looking like that! I mean you just got back from New York! How do you look so good?"

Tom let out a sharp breath, color returning to his cheeks. "Jesus, Parker, I thought.... you look fine."

She didn't buy that for a second, and crossed her arms at him haughtily. "You're literally always telling me my outfits are awful. I could have, like, gotten a skirt or worn a dress or something, anything, other than this. Jesus! And I forgot to wash my face this morning—"

"Parker," he said again. "I don't give a fuck. I like what you're wearing."

She raised a brow. "Really? This? You like this?" she challenged, arms thrown out so he could get a better look at her ensemble. Tom's gaze flickered down then up again, and his mouth quirked at the side. She stabbed a finger at him. "Ha! See? I knew it. I look like Chucky. Or, the bride of Chucky, or whatever—I never watched those movies. The doll reminded me a little to much of our cousin, and I didn't feel like trying to unpack that."

He clipped his smile, coughing into his hand. "You look nice."

"Don't patronize me."

"Fuck, you're so annoying sometimes."

"I'm leaving."

"Alright, alright. I think the outfit is awful. You look like a scarecrow. But that's how you're always dressed, so you shouldn't change that just for a date. You could throw a stone in Hollywood and hit somebody with no sense of style. At least you dress like that because it's who you are, and not just an attempt at getting attention. There's not many people around here like that, you know; genuine," he said slowly, and although it was an insult, Parker oddly felt better at hearing it. It was less nice and complimentary and more cocky and rude, more like him. And she wouldn't want him to change that for her either. "Now, are you going to be normal? Or, you know, normal for you. I'd like to eat before the paella gets cold."

She shook her head at him with a sour look. Part of her didn't want to give in to the asshole—not when he was mocking her, and certainly not when he was showing her up on a date—but the other part of her didn't want to leave. She wanted to stick around, eat his food, laugh and talk and joke just like they were doing.

In defeat, she slinked back towards the table. Tom made a show of pulling out her chair with a smirk so cocky it could kill. "I'm not going to get salmonella or something from this am I?"

"Colt told me about how you set the kitchen on fire while trying to bake him a birthday cake," he snarked in that self-righteous way of his, sitting himself. "I'd cool it on the shit talking. You're not exactly Gordon Ramsay yourself."

"Oh my god, that was one time and it was an accident!" she cried in her own self-righteous way. He didn't buy her excuse, however, and when Tom laughed at her, she gave up. Huffing, Parker waved a hand at him impatiently. "Whatever. Just pass me the paella already. I'm starving."

---

Dinner has long since gone cold as they talked, carried inside and stuffed unceremoniously into the fridge upon Parker's worries that the food might spoil. Tom hadn't been all that concerned about it, and she suspected he likely wasn't. She doubted that he had to worry about any sort of household chores living in a place like this, but he had worked too hard on cooking it, and she was too poor to ignore it, and so under her pestering everything had been moved inside when they did. Their first bottle of wine is long forgotten as two more sit on the table between them. There's a few waters there as well; both half-drank, and dripping condensation onto their wooden coasters. They've moved from the outdoor patio to the inside living room—the couch a much more comfortable alternative, though with an arguably worse view of the twinkling LA landscape—and Tom's jacket has been shed along with his sneakers as they volley questions at one another.

Parker's enjoying the activity a little too much; carefully prying into the life that belongs to Tom Ryder, and it seems that Tom, rosy-cheeked and smiling more than she's ever seen before, is in too good of a mood to mind.

He's answered more questions about himself tonight than she thinks he ever has on any of his talk shows, and she's told more stories about her and Colt getting into trouble than is probably appropriate for a date. But neither mind the other, and as the night just gets darker around them, they've yet to get bored.

And they've discussed quite a lot of topics.

"What would it take, then, for you to shave your head for a role?" Parker muses at one point in the night with deviously arched brows. Her head is just starting to feel heavy, a sign that she's teetering past tipsy, and she makes sure not to rush the latest pour of wine he's given her as she swirls it around the glass with careless movements. "Like, you get the role of a lifetime, maybe—oh, maybe a Nicholas Sparks movie, gut-wrenching love story, that type of thing—but your character has to shave his head."

"Shave my head?" he asks, his own head heavy and propped on a crooked elbow as he thinks. "No bald cap, I'd have to shave it."

"Completely."

His head tilts left, then right, before he shakes it. "No way."

"Seriously? Not for a really good role?"

"No. A wig? Sure. Bald cap? Fine, I've done worse for roles. But there's no way in hell I'm shaving my head," he says with a laugh and a shrug. "There's just no way."

"Not even a little? Just a bit. It'll grow back."

"No fucking way! Do you know how many gigs I get just for my hair? I'd have to give up my campaign with Old Spice. I love them."

"You love Old Spice? Seriously?" she echoed, nose scrunching in disbelief, but he either hasn't heard her tone or is ignoring her judgment, and Tom takes another sip of his wine with a confident shake of the head.

"No way, not happening. My hair is everything, you know. Tom Ryder without hair is... that's ridiculous."

Parker tilts her head, squinting one eye as she tries to imagine him bald. But it's too difficult to do, which brings her to the startling realization that he's right. His hair, gorgeous no matter the color, is part of him. It'd be like seeing Taylor Swift without her red lipstick or Dwayne Johnson without his tattoos. One doesn't go without the other. Still, the idea is funny, so she pesters, "what if it was a Spielberg movie?"

That has him pausing, but only for a moment. When he shakes his head, she can't help but laugh at his dedication. "Still not worth."

"That's—Spielberg isn't worth it?" she cries. Parker doesn't pretend to know a lot about the movie industry, but even she knew which directors were worth something and which weren't. Only Tom Ryder would refuse a chance at making history for the sake of his vanity. "You're crazy."

"It's my brand," he sniffed with a laugh of his own. "It'd be bad marketing to just shave it all off. I'm not just an actor, you know. I'm also a businessman."

She's sure that's true, but Parker doesn't care for the argument, and so she thinks hard for a moment. Snapping her fingers, she tries again. "Okay, what about Tarantino? Pulp Fiction is your favorite—you said that yourself."

He made a face. "Well, yeah, it's my favorite..."

"So...?"

He glanced at her, before a hand snaked up to his head to softly rake through his hair, as if testing the worth of it. He did that a lot, a nervous tick she had noticed, and as they sat together it was messier than she'd ever seen it before; slept on, air-dried, with no gel to perfectly coif the blonde tufts. And yet, she wished he wore it like that more often. "I mean... nah. Still couldn't do it."

His answer didn't surprise her in the least, but it was still so ridiculous, that she tipped her head back to laugh at it, cheeks splitting open for the grin that came. "You're crazy. Actually psychotic, Tom. You wouldn't work with your favorite director if you had to sacrifice your hair."

"I like my hair."

"I do too, but, come on! Tarantino?"

"It's not easy to have nice hair. I've worked on it for years to get it how I like it," he said, and then as if he she was suddenly a suspect, Tom narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. "Do you not like me hair or something?"

Another absolutely ridiculous thing for him to say, and if Parker wasn't aware of how deep his insecurities ran, she would have mocked him. Instead, she gave him a patronizing smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Of course I like your hair."

"Then why are you trying to get me to chop it off?"

"Just trying to see what your limit is," she defended with her palms held up, as if she really was a suspect. He didn't buy it for a moment, but he gave up easily. Parker rolled her eyes at him. "Big baby. I'. just trying to figure out what is crossing the line in Hollywood. You get paid for acting gigs, so where's the line at what you will and won't do for a lot of money if it's required for a role?"

"Easy," he shrugged. "The line exists as shaving my head."

She blew a raspberry at him. "I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

"Well, what if—ha! okay—what if you got to work with Tarantino and made, like, a million dollars."

He blinked at her. "You think a million dollars is a lot?" he deadpanned.

Parker waved her hand at him flippantly, dismissing that comment with a disgruntled eyeroll as she adjusted on the couch. They had started with a full cushion in between them, but over the night, they had both been moving towards one another without meaning to—stars in orbit—and as she pulled her legs up underneath her, Parker's knee pressed against his.

But he didn't mind like she worried he might, and when he stretched an arm over the couch back behind her, Parker continued.

"Alright, thirty million dollars. You would do it for thirty million, wouldn't you? Rich or not rich, thirty million dollars is a lot of money."

His brow lifted higher, and she hesitated.

"...right?"

He laughed at her, bending forward to pour more wine into his glass as she smacked him on the shoulder. "Seriously? Yes, that's a lot of money. I'm not that rich."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, excuse me, Mr. Money Bags. So? Would you?"

He hummed, popping the cork off the bottle to pour out the rest of it. She waited impatiently as Tom then took a long swallow of the fresh pour, really dragging it out.

"Tom!" she whined.

"Okay, yes. If I got to work on a movie with Tarantino and got thirty million dollars, yes, I would shave my head," he finally admitted, looking both pleased at her irritation and troubled by the concept. He sat back while lifting a hand to run through his hair. She watched him tug on a few strands as if reminding himself it existed and when he caught her watching, Parker swung a hand up to hide her smile. Rolling his eyes, he tacked on, "but... it'd have to be a really good role. A starring role. You know? Not just some side character, something that is actually worth it."

"Worth more than thirty million dollars?"

"A lot more."

"You really love your hair," she said, then, as if only to be obnoxious, gave a mock gasp as she clutched a hand to her imaginary pearls. Tom spared her a look as if he knew what was about to come, but was amused by it nonetheless. "Oh my god, your hair is your superpower, isn't it? That's where you get all the swagger and rizz from."

"Rizz? You're spending too much time with Melissa," he commented blithely.

But Parker was on a run, and she wasn't about to let his sour commentary stop her, and so she continued with an air of dramatics that Hollywood would appreciate. "All this time I assumed you were a Bruce Wayne—you know, rich, sad, rich—"

"You said rich twice."

"—rude, egotistical, awful with women—"

He sat up. "Hang on a minute, awful with women?" he echoed in bewilderment, but Parker just continued as if he hadn't said anything at all.

"—the type of hero who gets his superpowers just from being, you know, insanely rich. But, really, all this time you've been like Superman. Good looking, obsessed with wearing glasses that you don't actually need, but with a real superpower. Your hair is totally your kryptonite, isn't it?"

She finally glanced at Tom, only to find him shooting her an unimpressed look. "That doesn't make any sense."

"What? Sure it does. It's what makes you so... you know, Tom Ryder."

"Are you saying my hair is the source of my power or my greatest weakness? Because kryptonite is his weakness. You know, the one thing that can kill him," he said as if it was obvious.

"Well—alright, your Achilles' heel or whatever," she threw her hands up with a huff. Of all the times that he didn't know what she was talking about, of course he would be a closeted comic book geek. "I bet if I cut it off, you would just fall over and die."

Tom rolled his eyes, setting his glass down on the table. "Do I need to hide my scissors?" he asked.

"Scared?"

"Of you? Well, yeah, I'm starting to be."

Parker laughed at his deadpan tone, and something smug curled his mouth as he laughed as well. She always knew that he was a bit of an attention whore, liking when other people were praising him and following him around like puppies, but the smug look didn't much feel like that. Instead, she was starting to get the distinct impression that Tom liked making her laugh in the same way she liked making him laugh.

Proud to be able to do it at all.

Parker bit her lip knowing that her face was flushing a deep red, both from his attention and from his jokes, and she took a moment to set aside her wine glass. The last thing she needed to do was spill some red wine on his expensive white couch, and knowing her history of spilling things that shouldn't be spilled, it was a miracle that she hadn't already done some damage.

"Do you want some more?" he asked, mistaking her reasons.

"No, I shouldn't. I still need to drive home," she said. Then, she glanced at the couch with a worried gnaw of her lip. "Besides, you may not care about this couch, but I do, and red wine is just a disaster waiting to happen."

"It's had worse."

"Oh, I'm sure, but not by me."

"You don't have to worry so much about that," Tom told her with a shrug and a gesture around them. "It's just a couch and you already know that I have maids."

"Well, yeah," she hedged. "But... it's still your stuff, and it's nice stuff, and I'm not trying to ruin it just because you can afford to replace it. Maids or not. What kind of logic is that?"

He shrugged again, utterly unconcerned. "This is, like, my third couch this year."

"What?"

"I have people over a lot," he explained as he ran a hand over the smooth material himself. "Shit happens when you're drinking. If it gets fucked up, I just get a new one."

She frowned. "Yeah, but, still... Accidents happen but I'd be furious if my friends ruined three of my couches in a year. That's just... Do you really not care when people wreck your house?"

Tom glanced at said house for a moment, gaze sweeping over the lavish furniture and expensive decorations before returning to her. He looked so innocent as he just said, "it's just stuff. Freddy and my boys are constantly fucking something up. You know how it is when I throw a party; people get drunk. I have an interior designer on speed dial to replace whatever gets ruined. You should have seen this place after my birthday last year."

"Yeah, but..."

"It's just stuff," he reiterated.

And that much was true. It was just stuff.

In one way, that was a good viewpoint of life. Things were just things, and they could easily be replaced. But as Parker sat there on the couch, feeling how comfortable and soft it was, examining the wooden pegs and beautiful details, she couldn't help but feel offended on his behalf. Things were just things, sure, but she would never go over to someone's house and not care about whether or not she ruined their things. Money or not, that was just shitty behavior.

Certainly not the behavior shared between friends. The idea that he would invite people over—friends, supposedly—that would trash his stuff without caring at all was so off baffling that she could only blink.

"I guess," she said after a moment.

As if he sensed her discomfort, Tom nudged her with his elbow, and when she blinked up at him, he was wearing a troublesome smirk. "Besides, women like my stuff."

Parker felt blood rush her face that didn't have anything to do with the wine, and his smirk widened at seeing it. She couldn't let him off that easily, however, and so she feigned disinterest. "Oh, really? They like this stuff? Hm."

"Oh, come on, it's nice. Just admit it."

"Well, I suppose the couch is okay."

He huffed, shaking his head at her. "Yeah, sure, okay. This couch was featured in Vanity Fair."

She stuck her nose up. "Oh? I don't read Vanity Fair, so I'll have to take your word on it," she continued to dig in, satisfied with the way his smirk twitched at the edges by her goading. "But I guess that's supposed to be a big deal, yeah? Not too bad, I guess."

"Not too bad?" he echoed incredulously, his earlier smugness gone, replaced by incredulity. It never ceased to amaze Parker how easy it was to push his buttons. "Come off it. It's a good couch. George Clooney has the same one in his house in Lake Como."

She poked a cushion, pinched the material between her fingers. "Hm. I would have thought he would get something... I don't know, classier."

"Classier?" he deadpanned.

"Like real leather. Or, oh, you know I read on Buzzfeed that some really rich people don't even have couches nowadays. They just stand all the time, and if they really need to sit, they have super big beanbags. Like, giant. Heard they're all the rage."

He huffed. "Fuck off."

"I mean, I'm not sure if they're in Vanity, they're kind of underground, you know," she continued, getting far too much enjoyment out of teasing Tom. He didn't seem all that amused from where he sat next to her, and she leaned closer to pinch the material of his shirt next. "And this? I mean... Tom. Seriously, I don't want to step on your stylists' toes or anything, but a white tee? Are you Kevin Bacon?"

His eyes grew wide as he swatted away her hand. "This is Armani!"

"Are you sure? Fake brands are a thing, you know. You have to check the stitching, the material, the tags. All of that. It's easy to get it wrong nowadays."

"Parker—"

"It's a whole scam. You might not be able to tell, but I have a great eye for detail. Plus, I've been getting scammed my entire life—I mean, the pink tax? What even is that?—so I'm pretty familiar with the concept."

"It's not—I'm not being scammed!" he exclaimed, swatting her other hand away as it tugged on the back of his shirt. He was fully scowling. Clearly, not pleased with her joking, and as she exploded in laughter, he lifted a brow at her crossly. "You think you're funny?"

She poked her teeth with her tongue, giggling. "I think I'm hilarious."

Tom hummed, eyes jumping over every inch of her face, and the moment his mouth curved into a devious smirk, Parker knew that he was up to something.

"Tom—"

She wasn't quick enough to get away, and all it took was for Tom to wrap an arm around her waist before she was being bodily hauled towards him as though she weighed nothing. She shrieked—never having been one for manhandling in all the years Colt forced it upon her—but despite trying to get away from him, she found herself sitting across his lap, an arm barred across her back to prevent her from going anywhere.

The same hand that was previously poking fun at the quality of his clothes was now firmly fisted into the soft material of his shirt.

"You're going to judge my clothes when you're wearing this?" he asked while pinching her sweater with his free hand. On the back patio, it hadn't seemed so out of place, but now that they were inside, surrounded by expensive bottles of wine and his collection of movie props in glass cases along the wall, it was impossible to ignore. "It's awful, Parker."

She swallowed, trying not to seem too flustered by the abrupt decrease in distance. "I got it at a yard sale."

"You should have put it out of its misery."

"Hey!" she cried, a soft punch into the hard muscle of his shoulder. He didn't seem all that surprised, and his smile crooked further as his palm spread wide against her back. "I like this sweater, jerk. It has character."

"That's what they say about ugly things in vintage stores."

She narrowed her eyes, only a hair's breadth away from him now, but refusing to let him win this argument just because he was looking at her like that, holding her, mouth coiled into a damning smile as if he could feel the way her heart was beating faster. "Just because something is ugly doesn't mean it shouldn't be loved."

He huffed. "No one actually believes that."

"Well, I do," she corrected him. "And I've had this sweater for five years, and I just so happen to love it."

"You've had the same sweater for five years?"

That's what surprised him? "Of course I have," she blinked, thrown by his surprise. "I can't afford to buy a new one every time I want to. I just... you know, take care of my stuff. Ugly or not. I mean, every once in a while I accidentally shrink something in the wash, but I do my best to make stuff last. Are you going to judge me for that too?"

It was a joke, but Parker didn't need an answer. She could tell just from the soft look in his eyes that he wasn't judging her. Just... looking at her.

The kitchen lights were off, the balcony ones too, and the only light in the room came from the fireplace and the small chandelier over the stairs. It cast glittering lights around them, highlighting everything that shined in the room—glass, picture frames, awards, props, and screens—yet somehow Parker swore that he shone brighter than all those other things; as if he was made to be in the spotlight.

At this distance, she could make out the miscolored flecks in his eyes; not just blue but golden and brown and hints of green that were always absent in his airbrushed ads. She could just make out the tired rings beneath his eyes, the crease of his mouth, the tiny curve of his nose, the wayward tufts of hair that he'd mussed wrong at one point in the night.

All a sign that he was human, he was no different than her.

Not really, anyways. Not in a way that mattered.

He blinked at her, and though Parker would never know for sure, there was something in the depth of his features that made her think he was realizing the exact same thing. And as the thought passed between them, their movements synched, and as she leaned up, he leaned down.

This kiss wasn't like the first one; that one had been hard, knocking the air out of her lungs and the thoughts from her brain in a single fell swoop. It had felt rushed; brought on by a moment of excitement and laughter, but lingering in sloppy kisses as if they were teenagers given only a moment of privacy before they would be found out by the English teacher. An absurd thought, that wasn't actually so absurd when the sound of laughter or chatter would drift up to their little patio from the party happening down below. Maybe that's exactly what they had been, just two kids pretending the rest of the world didn't exist, kissing like there wouldn't be another chance.

But this?

This one started slow. Just the gentleness of his lips on hers, the feeling of his hands slowly tugging her to his chest until there was no room left between them. It was hesitant in how her hand skated up his chest, his shoulders, and into his hair. Featherlight, as if afraid to touch, before becoming more confident. His mouth tasted like wine and rhubarb as she kissed him, the smokey flavor of a stolen cigarette chased by the berry-sweet flavor of her chapstick as he chased the delicate curve of her mouth.

Hesitant became familiar as the kiss evolved, nervous became excited as they realized they weren't going to be interrupted or chased away. The kiss turned harder as he shifted their bodies on the couch, pillows knocked to the floor as they became a jumble of laughter, and just as her skin had started to feel like it was on fire, hands nothing but a jumbled mess of firing neurons as they skated around the back of his neck, catching on his gold chain, before a gentle tug on his locks as all thoughts ceased to make sense—

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the...

Thoughts came back, and the pair froze with matching looks of horror.

Tom blinked at her with wide blown eyes. "Is that your phone?"

Parker glanced over her shoulder finding said phone face up on the table, vibrating a steady rhythm on his glass table as the song played aloud for them to hear.

Of course it was her brother's fucking face flashing across the screen.

"...I'm actually going to kill him this time."

"Colt?"

"Colt," she repeated irritably. Tom blinked at the ceiling as Parker glared at the phone, willing it to stop entirely, but neither wanting to move in fear of shattering the moment entirely. "It'll stop eventually," she said awkwardly.

What if I'm late? Gotta big date...

"What the fuck is your ringtone?" he asked, breath tickling her skin.

Parker flushed for more reasons than one, and cleared her throat. "Harry Nilsson," she said, but that didn't seem like an adequate answer, and as the stanzas continued, she added with a nervous chuckle, "uh, it's from a Netlix show. It's not the theme song, but there's a scene where Nadia—er, the main character—she keeps dying, you know—like an endless loop sort of thing—and this is always the song that's playing when—oh, it stopped."

They blinked at the phone screen, and together the pair let out the breath they had been holding when it finally went black.

Parker turned back to Tom, somehow more nervous than she had been before. "So—"

He kissed her before she could ramble, a good thing for them both considering just how much she could ramble, and as if they hadn't stopped at all, her entire body melted back into goo beneath his touch. It wasn't hard to pick up where they had left off, not when he held her so close, when his chest was burning hot as she skated across it with timid hands, when his owns hands skimmed beneath her sweater to leave tingling trails down her spine, or when he ducked closer, sealing away any last inch of—

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get gone before the morning...

She winced, and Tom glared at the phone so sharply she thought it might shatter. Too cowardly to look herself, she let her head fall against his chest as she asked, "is it...?"

"Colt? Yeah."

She groaned.

"Can't you just turn the fucking thing off?" he asked, and though it was a logical next step, the thought of what if had her hesitating. He noticed immediately. "What?"

"Well, I am his emergency contact." That logic didn't seem to matter to Tom at all, and Parker let out a great huff as she stretched for the phone. "He could be, like, dead or something! What kind of emergency contact would I be if I didn't pick up?"

The hand that had been under her sweater fell against her thigh with a thud. "If he's already dead, then there's nothing you can do about it," he snarked.

"Dying, then," she corrected tartly. When that didn't earn her any compassion, she tried puppy dog eyes. "Just thirty seconds."

Tom flopped against the cushion behind him with a sour look, and she rolled her eyes at his petulance. "Honestly, I can only handle one child at a time," she muttered, much to his annoyance, but he wisely didn't respond as she lifted the phone to her ear, hitting the green talk button. "Hello? This is Parker."

"What—of course it's Parker. Who else would it be?" Colt said, and the fact that it was Colt and not some hospital administrator had Parker relaxing.

Just as quickly she tensed in annoyance when she realized that this was very likely not an emergency. "Colt, is, uh, something wrong?"

"Wrong? Why would something be wrong?"

"Because... you just called me twice in a row. That's, like, something is wrong textbook 101."

"Oh," he said as if that had never occurred to him. And considering the fact that she had never had to call him in the middle of the night for a medical emergency was probably to blame for his ignorance to the situation. "Well, no, nothing's wrong. What are you doing?"

"Er, just, you know," Parker hedged, glancing anywhere but at Tom. "Just... hanging out. Drinking some wine."

"Nice. You want to go to the movies?"

Parker's eyes rounded. "W—what?"

"The movies! I feel like it has been forever since we went to the movies, just the two of us. You know, for something that wasn't a premiere, anyway, and I still haven't seen the new Alex Garland movie, so I figured we could go together."

Parker, baffled, grabbed Tom's wrist and twisted it until she could read the very expensive Rolex sitting on his wrist. He looked perturbed by her manhandling of him, but Parker didn't even notice as she huffed, "it's—it's late! What movie theater is even still open right now?"

"The one on Beumont Ave. I'll swing by your place, and we'll be just in time for—"

"No!" she said, louder and more forcefully than necessary. The line went silent as she blinked, and as Tom arched his brows at her, Parker waved her free hand around in the air in a vague gesture that he clearly wasn't able to interpret. When he opened his mouth to make what likely would have been a scathing comment about her ability to stay calm under pressure, she clapped the hand over his mouth instead. "I, uh, can't. Not tonight. Sorry. I actually have to, uh... I just can't."

"What? You just said you weren't doing anything."

"Well, technically, I'm not doing anything."

"Then, what's the problem? I'm like fifteen minutes away from your place. Just wear sweats, or whatever."

"Colt—"

"Jody can't make it, though, so it'll just be us."

"Colt—"

"That's cool, though, you know, I don't have to do everything with Jody. We used to hit the movies all the time, just the two of us, before, and I already bought some gummies from the gas station, so make sure you bring a purse so we can sneak them in. I'm definitely feeling popcorn. Maybe some—"

"Colt, I'm not going to the movies with you!" she blurted out, and the second she did so, Parker's shoulder sank in disbelief at her tactlessness. But—to be fair—she was a little overwhelmed in the moment, tipsy on expensive wine, with Tom Ryder staring up at her like that. Not to mention the fact that the moment he kissed her, her brain elected to take the rest of the night off. As if he knew he was the problem, his mouth curved into a wolfish grin. She shot him a glare. "Don't even start with me."

That caught her brother's attention.

"Are you—are you with someone?"

Tom rolled his eyes at the question, clearly put up with Colt's needling, and he tried to grab the phone from her. But Parker was quicker than he was, and in a better position to evade, and so she stretched onto her knees as high as she could as his hand tangled in her hair. "I'm, stop that! I mean, technically, yes."

"Well—what the hell, Park? Who are you with?"

"...that's none of your business," she said whilst swatting Tom in the chest when he tried to make another grab for the phone.

"Just hang up already!" he hissed at her.

"I will! I am! Just—give me a second!" she hissed back, as her brother's voice droned across the line. "I really can't talk right now, Colt."

"Oh. Oh. Sure, of course you can't, since you're all so busy having secrets now apparently. I mean, I thought we shared all our business with one another, but fine. Be that way," he groused, clearly hurt by her evasion, and as Parker twisted out of Tom's reach once more she prayed for a meteorite to come crashing through his ceiling. "But, just for the record, when I go on dates, I tell you about them."

"Yes, and I've told you before that I really wish you didn't do that."

He huffed, then huffed again. "Well, sorry."

"Can I just call you back tomorrow?"

Another huff, then a scoff. "Sure. Fine, Parker. Whatever."

"Colt—"

"No, no, it's fine! Go have your date, have fun or whatever. I mean, I go on plenty of dates that I don't tell you about, too. So, yeah, I guess we both do have secrets."

"Colt—"

"Just, you know, don't do anything you don't want to do and if he asks—"

"Oh my god!" she shrieked, misery at an all time high. "I'm hanging up now!"

"But—!"

The dial tone echoed in the empty room around the pair, and only when Parker felt like the humiliation of it all had faded enough for her to operate normally again did she dare a peak towards Tom.

"Did he just totally kill the—?"

"Yup," Tom said. "Killed it, stomped it out, and threw it in the river. I hate your fucking brother."

"Yeah," she groaned, letting her head tip all the way to the side until she was flopping off of his lap and onto the empty cushion. She brushed some hair out of her face with a grimace. Tom didn't look much better, and she watched him sink deeper into the couch with a miserable frown of his own.

Silence sat between them, thick and suffocating.

He fiddled with his watch as she counted seconds in her head, and when she got to thirty, Parker gave up entirely. "Do you... want to watch some tv?" she asked.

Tom looked surprised by the suggestion, and his gaze flickered over Parker; as if assessing how serious she was. "You don't want to leave?"

"Why would I leave?"

He didn't answer that, and his refusal to say anything was answer enough. Parker considered the course of events this evening; the food, the wine, the flirting before moving onto the couch, the kissing...

She suspected this was usually how dates went for him, just like she had a strong suspicion that his dates probably treated him in the same way his friends treated his things; without respect, and with a single purpose in mind. But she saw more in Tom than a single purpose, and so the thought of leaving hadn't even crossed her mind. Clearly, though, that wasn't a reaction he was expecting, and she fiddled with her hair timidly.

"Do you... want me to leave? Because, I was thinking I'd hang around a little longer."

Something flickered across his features as he stared at her, and as if he hadn't even thought he had a say in the matter, when Tom relaxed into the couch, he had a small smile curling his lips. "Do you watch House of the Dragon? I'm a couple weeks behind."

"I watched Game of Thrones, but haven't seen any of it yet."

"Want to watch it now?"

"You don't have to start over," she said, watching the little box drift back to episode 1 with each click of the remote. "Just tell me who is fucking who, and I'm sure I'll catch up."

But Tom wasn't having that excuse, and as he gathered up some pillows and a blanket, he tutted at her. "May as well just rewatch it. I've missed half of this season, anyway, so it won't hurt to go back and refresh a little."

"You don't mind?"

He tsk-ed, rolling his eyes in that judgmental way that he did—as if he couldn't believe she would ask something so stupid—and for some unbeknown reason to her, Parker didn't mind one bit. He wasn't acting like she was stupid, just the idea that he wouldn't want to do something as simple as rewatch a tv show for her was. And when he lifted an arm with an expectant look allowing her to snuggle against the warm plane of his side and wrap her legs with his, Parker accepted that maybe it was a stupid question.

After all, she's starting to think that there's very little she wouldn't do for Tom.

It was nice to know that he might feel the same about her.

And when she woke up the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the windows, wrapped up in Tom, surrounded in every way by his essence, to find the celebrity A-lister drooling on his white Armani shirt...

Well, Parker couldn't help but smile.

Maybe Superman was a little more human than people realized.

#falling without a harness #tom ryder #tom ryder imagine #tom ryder x ofc #original female character #oc #the fall guy series #the fall guy imagine #the fall guy #colt seavers

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papermint-airplane · 3 months ago

Note

List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to 10 simblrs whose sims you adore ♥♥♥

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe 😈

I picked Uriah this time and I had to wait to answer this because I wanted to do a whole photoshoot for it. I had to be extra. He demands it.

🖤 Uriah Voss 💜

I cannot pronounce his name correctly in my accent. 🤣 Instead of Yoo-rye-uh, it comes out sounding like Yoo-rah. It's funny because I was originally going to name him a different super old-fashioned old man name (Ira, if you're curious, which I also can't pronounce correctly in my accent) but when the game randomly generated Uriah, it was too perfect to pass up. I don't think anyone has been named Uriah since like the 1800s but it suits him so well somehow. Voss was also randomly generated by the game which I kept because I just thought it was kind of pretty sounding and fit nicely with his wack-ass first name.

2. Uriah is an only child...at least for now. He likes to say that's because when the Watcher saw how perfect he was, she broke the mold so he could never be duplicated. While it's true that he is perfect, I've cloned him in two different save files and saved him to the bin, so technically speaking there are three of this lil gremlin boy. Lord help us all. I haven't made him any siblings or other family members and I don't know if I ever will but if a story opportunity presents itself in the future, there's no telling what kind of relatives he'll suddenly spawn! 😈

3. If it wasn't immediately obvious, Uriah loves fashion. He craves attention and if his clothes aren't constantly screaming "look at me," he might actually shrivel up and die. He's constantly experimenting with his look, sometimes to ridiculous extremes, and he likes to push the envelope as far as gender norms are concerned. While he likes the looks he gets, he actually doesn't really care much what people think of him. If he wants to wear a dress and heels, he will. If he wants to wear a bat kigurumi, he will. If he wants to wear nothing at all...well...that one might actually get me in trouble, but I wouldn't put it past him.

4. Uriah's sexuality is complicated. You could say he's bi, you could say he's pan, you could say he's a lot of things. Honestly, he's just attracted to pretty Sims with nice clothes, regardless of their gender. He's not totally shallow and he does want to find his soul mate and have a loving relationship, blah blah blah, but you gotta look good if you're going to be his partner! Casual dressers need not apply.

5. Uriah might not be entirely...human. 👉👈 What do I mean by that? Who's to say? 😇

#ask #answer #ask game #ask meme #just simblr things #sim: uriah voss #i still have more of his character to flesh out #which is why this is so boring #but i have plans for this boy #he has joined aiden as one of my favorite sims of all time

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starsomens · 1 year ago

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“Okay how about this dress ?” You asked

“Baby, for the last time, you could be in my shirt and boxers and you’d still look gorgeous”

Currently you were trying on a few dresses you had bought for a maternity shoot you would be doing in a couple of hours. You really do regret picking the dress out last minute. So you had asked Noah to help you pick one but so far he thinks everything is looking good on you.

“ as much as I love trying on clothes and modeling them for you, you’re not any help with choosing” you laugh as you unzipped the dress from the side and let it fall to your feet. You turn around to face your full body mirror and let out a heavy side as your hands rest on your waist

Noah comes over and rest his chin on your shoulder as his long arms wrap around you and his large cup the swell of your stomach

“ you know you look really good like this” he smirks at you in the mirror

“What?! When I gained more than 10 pounds and I look like a ball? Not to mention all the stretch marks I have.” You try and point out flaws but he shakes his head.

“Nope, still, the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen” he kisses your shoulder, giving your stomach a stroke “

He pulls out his phone and snaps a quick picture of his arm, still cradling your bump, and you giving him a kiss on the cheek “ this has to be my favorite so far he comments

“ actually….. I do have something I want to show you, but I’ve been a little scared” you said, biting your bottom lip

“ new clothes?” he asked. You shake your head and go over to your drawer and pull out a small bag.

Inside the bag was a set you had bought yourself to help you feel comfortable in your ever-changing body. It was a deep, cherry red lingerie set. his eyes widen at the fabric and his mouth forms into a smile

“ Well what are you waiting for a try it on sexy” turning you around to go and try your bathroom. You go in and begin to dress into the set your heart was racing, not knowing how he would react to it or how you really felt wearing it. When you peaked through the door, he was on your shared bed, waiting patiently like a child waiting on his reward for doing all his chores.

“Wel it was meant to be after the baby came you know…and after the weight and all but uh…” you are out and his jaw falls to the floor”what do you think?” You ask

“Gimme a spin” he said twirling his finger at you

“Mhm….ive turned you into a certified milf” he says proudly as he stands from the bed “baby this is gorgeous, you look so fucking beautiful in it” he said still looking. You over

“I might have to remind you of the goddess you are later on” he smirks knowing damn well what he was implying

“Mhm, well Mr.Sebastian that’s if this photoshoot goes right and we can get wings afterwards” you try and negotiate with the giant

“Done and done. Anything you gorgeous”

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #noahsebastian #not too sure what I did here #badomens #bad omens

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sailorspazz · 11 months ago

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10 Dance - chapter 41, part 1 summary

As Suzuki and Aki work at an early morning photoshoot, the two end up having a heart-to-heart discussion regarding each of their love lives.

Full summary and highlight images under the cut

Chapter 41, part 1: Time to Say Goodbye, and

Published online on January 19th, 2024, available to purchase on Comic Days, or rent for 10 days on Yanmaga.

Some time has passed since chapter 40, indicated by Suzuki and Aki looking less tan than they have in recent chapters. Riding in Saichi’s car, Suzuki still can’t stop thinking about the astonishing sight of Sugiki freezing up at the end of the Japan Inter. Saichi comments on how early it is, and that even following the competition Suzuki and Aki haven’t really had any time off. Suzuki replies that lately their photoshoots have always been this early, and internally keeps wondering what he should do about Sugiki. They stop to pick up a tired looking Aki, and Suzuki asks Saichi if they can stop by his old place on the way. Saichi asks if he’s contacted his father to let him know he’s coming, and Suzuki says no; since it’s so early, he’s just going to sneak in quickly and grab some stuff he needs.

As Suzuki walks into his father’s place, he thinks that even though it hasn’t been that long since he moved out, he still feels a bit nostalgic coming back here. In the entryway, he notices a pair of women’s shoes, and decides to come back another day instead. As he gets back into the car, Aki asks how his father was doing, and he excitedly mentions the shoes he saw, adding that he’s thought for a while that his father might be dating someone since he would sometimes not come home until morning.

At the studio, as a makeup artist attends to the pair, Aki asks Suzuki what this photoshoot is for, and he notes that she’s seemed to be out of it lately, teasing that she must have found a man she’s interested in. Aki blushes and hides her face, confirming his suspicions as he grins and pats her head. He asks how far the relationship has gone, and Aki, not wanting to reveal too much with the makeup artist in the room, switches into Spanish to say that though they’ve only gone out to eat a few times, she feels like she wants to marry him, which causes Suzuki to spit out his drink. Aki says that he’s not aggressive at all, but is instead chivalrous and gives her a sense of security. Suzuki comments that he seems totally different from her usual type, and Aki nods in agreement. Suzuki asks if she’s really serious about the marriage comment, and she replies that they actually haven’t even kissed yet, and he’s so different from the other men she’s dated that she doesn’t know what to do. Suzuki insists that she should let him meet this guy so he can judge his chivalry for himself, but Aki refuses, saying that she can’t do that yet and it’s someone who’s involved in their work. At first Suzuki grins and says he thought it might be something like that, but then looks concerned as he remembers some past comments Aki made about Sugiki. He imagines the two of them looking sexy together as he asks if it’s him, but Aki denies it; she may be a huge fan of Sugiki, but she has absolutely no desire to marry him.

A few shots are shown of the photoshoot (once again featuring the pair in a clothing ad that displays hardly any clothing at all), and afterward as they’re having a break, Aki brings up the fact that Suzuki seems unhappy lately. She asks if he’s aware of how he was dancing at the recent competition, and wonders what happened to make him like that. Ever since they were little, she’s been the one who embodies and conveys Suzuki’s feelings and expressions while they dance, somewhat like a shaman. She gets caught up in his emotions and feels the same things he does, so his happiness is her happiness, and his pain is her pain. Suzuki tries to act like nothing is wrong, but Aki interrupts to ask if this has something to do with the person he loves. Speaking Spanish again, she invites him to hug her like they did when they were little, affectionately calling him her older brother, and the two embrace.

Suzuki wonders about how harsh his dancing must have been, and Aki says his rampage left her body pretty worn out. She’s always been able to tell when he’s having romantic problems since it comes through to her when they join hands, but this time even though it seems that he’s feeling a passionate love that overflows from his very core, he’s trying to act like it never even happened, completely disregarding his own desires. She grabs his hand like they’re in hold and tears flow from her eyes as she says aloud the things she feels from Suzuki, such as how he wants to be with the one he loves, how he yearns to touch them, how he doesn’t want to sully them, and how he loves them. Suzuki says she’s freaking him out as he pulls his hand away, and a startled Aki asks who the hell he is. This isn’t like him at all; the Shinya she knows rushes right in without a second thought when he finds someone special. Suzuki starts to talk about how they’re still connected to each other in some way, but Aki interrupts and says none of them can be happy like this; not her as his partner, not Suzuki himself, and not the one he loves. He needs to find happiness together with his beloved.

Previous chapter: #40 part 3

Next chapter: #41 part 2

#10 dance #10dance

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ethereal-engene · 2 years ago

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TXT & Anime Cons

pairing: bf!txt x fem!reader

genre: fluff & slice-of-life // warnings: brief mentions of hate and creepy men

summary: how I think the members of TXT would be if you took them to an anime convention // word count: 1957

note: I got to attend an anime con this year (2022) and it was so crazy good! I struggled not to splurge so much 😭 (so many cool small business and creators) Enjoy and please reblog/leave feedback if you liked it!

soobin

oh mannnn, THIS GUY OH BOY

Y’all already know he loves anime so much

When you invited him to attend a con with you, he was beyond excited

He’s always wanted to go to one ever since he got into anime

Plus something tells me he also has been wanting a reason to buy a cosplay outfit but didn’t have an excuse to buy one

Bonus, he wants to do a couple cosplay with you 🥰

Best boy soobin yall

Obviously you agree and now he’s x10 more excited to go with you

On the day of, he’s up before you and wearing the cosplay

along with packing things you guys might need while y’all there

when you finally wake up and are ready, he drags you to the car

you guys get there safely and check-in

walking in, y’all walk around admiring all of the artists & cosplayers

he’s kind of shy but you know which cosplayers he’d like to take pictures with

so you end up asking for him

if they say yes then you’re the one snapping pictures of him

it’s really cute and cool seeing all of these cosplayers come out

especially with cosplayers from jjk

they never fail to amaze you with how they made them or how long it took to make them

anyhow continuing to seeing all of the booths

Soobin looks at the things with stars in his eyes

you both struggle not to overspend

emphasis on struggle

all I will say is you two walk out with either a bunch of art work or wearable merch

the overall experience 10/10

───°˖✧✿✧˖° ───

yeonjun

takes a deep breath in

y’all know yeonjun isn’t into anime but after begging & messing with him, he says yes

you cannot tell me that yeonjun isn’t one to get jealous or slightly possessive over you

like imagine telling him about the weird creeps at the cons and such

that’s all he needs to hear before agreeing to go with you

unfortunately your tactics can only get you so far

apparently not enough to get him to wear a couple cosplay with you

so he’ll opt for dressing stylishly (as he does)

on the morning of the con, he sees you all dolled up in your cosplay

manz might not know too much but he loves seeing you all dressed up

he knows how long you’ve been wanting for cons to start up since the pandemic

yeonjun stares at your confident smile and body language that screams excitement

it’s like you were made to shine for this moment

now he’s just staring at you the way you stare at him when he’s performing

this is his little aha moment as to why you love going to anime cons and doing cosplay now

before you two head out, he can’t help but make you do an impromptu photoshoot

he just wants to show off to everyone how cool you are

after that, you guys head there and he’s not going to lie

it is quite chaotic and overstimulating but he gets used to it

learning to stay close to you or else he’ll get lost

every few minutes, someone will ask to take a picture with you

you’ll say yes and have yeonjun take the picture

he’ll be on edge as he knows some people like to get a too comfortable and start to pull inappropriate moves

if or when he catches someone, he’ll tell them off and that’s the end of the story

moving on, because he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of anime yet he’s just following you around like a puppy

you find it cute and squeeze his hand as a thanks for coming with you

he does appreciate all of the artists out here having their own spot and what they make

while of course he’s a performer, he knows how to appreciate all forms of art

every so often, he has to drag you away from a stand because he knows you’d give all of your money to them

he does end up bumping into a couple of MOAs and they’re surprised to see him here

given that yk he’s not into anime but then he points to you

to which you shyly wave hi and greet them

at the end of the con, with the things that you bought

Yeonjun is holding them and slightly complaining but we all know he doesn’t really mean it

if he could, he’d be the one spoiling you all day and every day

Yeonjun’s rating: a 7/10

───°˖✧✿✧˖° ───

beomgyu

I have no idea if beomgyu likes anime but he gives me vibes that he’s a subtle lover of it

he’d definitely couple cosplay with you

okay okay b/c I am biased to wolf cut and highlight beomgyu

I’m going to give him the cosplay of Miyamura from horimiya

LIKE COME ON?? he’d rock that cosplay

anyhow, he likes it a lot because the costume is subtle but still cosplay yk?

you and beomgyu have an entire photoshoot before and during the con

oh, I forgot to mention it probably doesn’t take a lot out of you to convince him to go with you

he loves seeing you all excited and happy, so if going with you makes you happy then what else more does he need to hear?

when you guys get to the convention, you have to make sure you’re the one not losing beomgyu

for some reason, he gives off the type of person to befriend anyone

knowing that, you turn around a couple of times when you’re walking to ensure he is there

unfortunately you still manage to lose sight of him

one second you’re holding hands together and he’s behind you

the next, he’s talking to someone about their cosplay and getting to know about their character

luckily, gyu is never too far from you

it’s actually kind of cute watching him interact with them

omg naurrr it’s even cuter when he interacts with little kids all decked out

the way he gives his undivided attention to them and seeing their eyes shine as they talk about their cosplay

you can’t help but giggle and snap videos of it to tease him about it later

eventually you approach them and join them in their conversations

and watching them connect the dots that you two are a couple and doing a cosplay together

it blows their minds and running up to their parents to share their findings

truly impossible not to curl up into a ball right then and there

just as you find him interacting with kids cute, he thinks that you’re even cuter around them

moving onnnn, he doesn’t have to make sure you don’t overspend or at least he doesn’t think so

and besides it is your money and life so who is he to stop you from spending your own money

THATS MF RIGHT YALL GET YOU A MAN LIKE BEOMGYU

I feel like Gyu would be interested in seeing people’s performances on stage whether they be musical performances or showing off one’s skills

I can also imagine him walking up to the band performers after their performance to see if they could show a couple chords

and get their info because he thinks that they’re cool

beomgyu’s rating of the experience: 8/10

───°˖✧✿✧˖° ───

taehyun

He’s another member I’m not too sure if he likes anime or not

but I can tell that he would not do a couples cosplay with you <3

he loves you but not that much 🤧

Very much interested/intrigued in the mechanics behind

goes to people who put their everything into the cosplay to hear how they do it

no because I cans see him getting excited over super well done cosplays and looking at you for like permission to go talk to them

he’s so cute what to do and you’re like of course and accompany too

his eyes shine hearing all about the behind the scenes of the cosplay

also gets dope pictures with them because it’s truly amazing

anyways, he likes to explore all of the artists and asking you if you’d like anything from them

bonus points whenever he points out your favorite anime or the characters from a booth

might spoil you a bit lowkey

as cheesy as it sounds but seeing you happy makes him happy

gets the tiniest bit of jealous whenever good looking people start asking to take pictures with you

but then get over it b/c you wouldn’t leave him for them

and yk wears his signature confident smile

sometimes he’ll wear a smirk whenever it’s a really attractive person… because you’re his and not theirs

anywhoooo

he treats you some food there and you’re like he must be a godsend because food do be expensive

after eating, he’ll offer to take some photos for you since you guys didn’t really take any before leaving

you can’t tell me he didnt sneak in a couple of selfies for fun

at the end of the con, you ask him how it was for him

his rating: 7/10 (a point taken off because the food was too expensive 💀)

but would definitely go again to see more cool cosplays

maybe even inspire him to pick up a new hobby

as if he needs to even more talented at something

───°˖✧✿✧˖° ───

hueningkai

goodbye he beat you to asking about going the con first

totally didn’t get upset about it for a few minutes because you had planned out this cute way to ask him 😭

of course you said yes and then proceeded to scream over it because omg you guys are finally going to an anime con

you both talked about going to one when it was safer to go out due to the pandemic

sharing similar music tastes helped get you two together but honestly speaking watching and bonding over anime was the real relationship helper

his soft spot for you doesn’t allow him to say no to re-watching the same (comfort) animes and after re-watching them x number of times, he couldn’t help but fall in love with them too

he and you didn’t even need to ask each other about going as a couple cosplay or not

simply because the answer of course was yes, a million times yes

now the question was who to go as…

something tells me that you two had to make a little presentation about who to go as and why

yk to just spice things a little bit

in the end, he ended up winning </3 (sorry he says while pumping his fist in the air & a smile plastered on his face)

it didn’t take long to get the cosplay, but you two wanted to go the extra mile & add personal touches to it

something also tells me that you guys had a photoshoot before the event to tease people that you guys were going to be there and because y’all felt so cool in cosplay

on the day of the event, as expected y’all run into many fans and have so much talking to them

you’re appreciative of them for being supportive, however there were a few people giving you dirty glances but you brushed it off

there was nothing you could do and besides it wasn’t really a you problem to be dealing with other peoples’ opinion that they had on you

anyhow, you guys definitely splurged

in your defense, they were really cute (I rest my case)

you both had a lot of fun going together and interacting with people

super crazy to see how the shared love for anime brings people together 🥺

hueningkai’s rating: 10/10 (a no brainer rating)

AHHH THANK YOU FOR READING & txt debut fic ✨

I had a lot of fun writing these lil thoughts out and hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. as always, please reblog (with tags) if you liked it, or send an ask or leave a note :)

take care until next time

signing off

- ash

#kflixnet #underworldnet #soobin x reader #txt x reader #txt hcs #tomorrow x together x reader #txt x you #txt headcanons #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #txt imagine #txt fic #txt fluff #txt x y/n

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daegudrama · 1 month ago

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Title: Route 613

Pairing: Reader/Namjoon, Reader/Yoongi, Reader/Vmin

Summary: Reader wants to be the very best Pokémon trainer there ever was. Her first stop in that journey is Paldea University home to a myriad of higher education. Still working to get over her ex boyfriend, Yoongi, reader forms new connections while making a few questionable decisions along the way. Each battle bringing her closer to the glory she's always dreamed of. Will she succeed in becoming champion or will outside forces stop her from achieving her goal?

Word Count: 6.8K

Disclaimer: Real life ages mean nothing in this fic. Refer here for ages and my shitty graphics

cross posted to ao3 here

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Chapter 10

The walk to the studio is quick, but your mind races with thoughts of how the photoshoot might go. By the time you arrive, a few of the other trainers are already there, waiting outside. You recognize a couple of them, students you’ve seen in passing or battled before. They eye you and Yoongi with quiet recognition, and you can feel the silent rivalry brewing already. The next few months are going to be a lot of that.

A staff member ushers everyone inside, where the studio is set up with bright lights and backdrops. The atmosphere is buzzing with energy, but there’s an underlying tension. These aren’t just your peers anymore, these are the competitors you’ll have to defeat.

Professor Oak is standing in front of the backdrop waiting for all sixteen trainers to arrive. Once everyone is standing shoulder to shoulder he claps his hands together with an excited smile.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it this far. The sixteen of you have been selected as Paldea University’s top trainers.” Gasps sound around you as Professor Oak speaks. He knew this was going to happen and he looks oh so pleased with himself. “I’m going to call your names, please step forward. Get acquainted with each other or don’t…the people around you are your competition.”

Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest as Professor Oak begins calling names. “YN,” You step forward letting everyone look at you for a moment before you step back into line next to Yoongi. “Yoongi Min, Hiyyih Huening, Yunjin Huh, Jungkook Jeon, Chaewon Kim, Seungkwan Boo, Sana Minatozaki, Jihyo Park, Hajoon Lee, Jongho Choi, Junhui Wen, Soonyoung Kwon.” You look down the line to see who Soonyoung is because you swear you have never heard that name before. Everyone in this room should be familiar because you are in the same program. A third year student steps forward, one you have met several times. No one has ever called him by his given name before. Everyone calls him Hoshi.

“Jihoon Lee,” Again you look down the line and see another older student that has been nicknamed Woozi. “Mingyu Kim, and finally Taehyung Kim.”

The room is silent as the final name echoes around the studio. You glance over at Taehyung’s familiar face and see he has an air of confidence. He steps forward with a small, unreadable smile, as if he knows something the rest of you don’t.

With everyone standing shoulder to shoulder, Professor Oak clears his throat. “This year, we’re starting something new.” His eyes gleam with excitement. “We’re going to commemorate the top sixteen trainers with a photoshoot, something I hope becomes a tradition here at Paldea University.”

Murmurs ripple through the group, this is unprecedented. It’s clear from the surprise on some faces that no one expected this twist. You are glad you were warned ahead of time.

Professor Oak continues, “These photos will not only mark your journey but also remind future trainers of the level of competition they’ll need to rise to. You’re the first class to be honored this way, and I hope to see this tradition continue long after you’ve graduated.”

He gestures to the photographers. “Let’s get started. Individual shots first, followed by a group photo.”

You hear your name called and step forward, the reality of the moment sinking in. This is no casual photoshoot, it’s a declaration. Someone standing near the camera hands you a shirt similar to a soccer jersey. It's a deep green color with stripes of white on the side. On the front it says ‘Winter Tournament 20XX’ and on the back is your last name. After putting on the shirt the flash of the camera captures you in a moment of confidence, though your mind races with thoughts of the battles to come. This photo will represent the start of something that will likely outlast your time at Paldea, whether as a champion or a competitor. They take a second set of photos in your Oak’s club jacket.

Yoongi steps forward next, his gaze unwavering as the lights capture his cool demeanor. His competitive edge is palpable, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more in his expression when he glances your way. Does he have to do this right now?

As the photoshoot progresses, the tension builds. This isn’t just about recognition—it’s a reminder that every face in this room will soon be your direct competition. With only six weeks until the tournament, every moment counts. You are sandwiched between Hiyyih and Jungkook in the group photo and you wonder if this has anything to do with how Professor Oak thinks you might rank.

After the shoot, Professor Oak addresses the group once more. “This is the beginning. The competition is real, and the stakes are high. But remember, only two of you will get the honor of facing the gym leaders. And not a word of this until Friday!!”

════════════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ════════════

Until Friday you keep mostly to yourself, determined not to let anything about making the top sixteen slip. This makes it easier for you to spend countless hours training without interruption. It’s harder than you imagined to keep the secret but also the way everything seems to be shifting around you. The quiet rivalry with Yoongi is coming back, even though it’s unspoken. Hiyyih is helping keep you grounded, though you both feel the weight of what’s ahead.

Every conversation with Namjoon this week has felt strained. You know it’s because of the tournament, you can’t tell him about making the top sixteen, not yet. The rules are strict, and the last thing you want is to risk disqualification or whatever Professor Oak would do.

Still, Namjoon seems rightfully confused, maybe even hurt. Every time you avoid a hangout or cut a conversation short, you can see the question in his eyes, though he doesn’t say anything.

By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, you’re feeling the weight of both the secret and your silence. The announcement about the winter tournament is set for 7PM, where the entire school will find out about the top sixteen trainers on the new battlefields and stands prepared just for this tournament. The excitement is palpable across campus, and it’s becoming harder to stay out of the buzz.

Just hours before the big announcement, Namjoon finally pulls you aside. His face is serious, eyes filled with concern as he corners you just outside one of the training grounds.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he asks, his voice slow, but steady.

You hesitate but nod, stepping away from the main path where others might overhear.

He shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes. "Look, I’ve noticed you’ve been...distant lately. Ever since I told you how I feel." He pauses, the tension heavy between you. “If I made you uncomfortable by confessing, I’m really sorry. I don’t want you to be burdened by or feel responsible for my feelings. I don’t want to lose our friendship because of it. But if it’s not that—if something else is going on—just tell me. Please.”

You feel your heart twist at his words. Namjoon’s vulnerability hits hard, and you hate that you’ve put him in this position. You want to reassure him, to tell him that it’s not what he thinks, but the words stick in your throat. The top sixteen is still a secret, and you can’t break that promise—not even for him.

You take a deep breath, shaking your head gently. "Namjoon, it’s not about that. You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I promise." You try to offer him a small, reassuring smile. "There’s just... a lot going on right now that I can’t talk about. But it’s not what you’re thinking."

He frowns, clearly not satisfied with your vague explanation. "If it’s not that, then what? You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

You want to tell him. You want to explain everything, but the words don’t come. You’re locked into this secret until 7 PM. You put a hand on his bicep giving it a light squeeze.

"I’m sorry, Namjoon. I really can’t explain right now, but I need you to trust me."

He sighs, looking down at his feet for a moment before nodding. "Okay...I trust you. But please, don’t shut me out." His voice softens, and you can see the worry etched in his features. "We’re still friends, right?"

"Of course," you answer quickly, and this time the smile you give him is genuine. "Always."

Namjoon steps back, giving you a small, tentative smile in return. "Alright. I guess I’ll see you at the announcement then."

As he walks away, you feel a mixture of relief and guilt. You know everything will come out soon enough, but until then, the weight of the secret keeps pressing down on you.

By 7 PM, the entire school gathers in the newly constructed Pokémon battlefields for the highly anticipated winter tournament. The atmosphere is electric as students fill the stands, their eyes glued to the large screens surrounding the pristine battlefield. Everyone is eager to learn who the top sixteen trainers are, the ones who will represent Paldea University in this year's tournament. The top sixteen are standing just out of view from most of the spectors.

Professor Oak strides to the center of the battlefield, his excitement evident in his broad smile. "Good evening, everyone!" His voice echoes across the arena, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. "Welcome to the winter tournament announcement, the first in our brand-new battlefields."

He pauses to gesture around at the expansive space, the shimmering lights reflecting off the smooth surfaces. "This year, we're unveiling not only the battle grounds but also the rankings of the top sixteen trainers, as determined by the evaluations of your professors. These rankings represent not only your battle abilities but also your growth, strategy, and potential as trainers."

The anticipation builds as Professor Oak continues, his voice commanding the attention of everyone in the room. You were not expecting this. He didn’t say anything about this. He always has another trick up his sleeve. You look to the side and see each of your competitors' faces filled with just as much confusion as yours. "Let’s get started, shall we? I’ll introduce the top sixteen trainers, ranked according to the recommendations of your professors."

The large screens come to life, displaying the names of the top sixteen trainers. Your heart races as you wait for your name to be called. The energy in the air is palpable, and every trainer standing nearby is on edge.

"Hiyyih Huening, ranked first."

The crowd erupts in surprise and applause as Hiyyih steps forward, her expression a mixture of pride and determination. You can see the fire in her eyes as she takes her place as the top-ranked trainer. She shoots you a confident smile, clearly ready for the challenge ahead. Hiyyih has earned this title, even if she won’t keep it for long.

"Jungkook Jeon, ranked second."

Jungkook steps forward, his name appearing on the screen in bold letters. The crowd murmurs in approval—Jungkook is known for his skill, and seeing him ranked this high is no surprise to anyone.

"YN, ranked third."

Your name echoes through the battlefield, and you step forward, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. The murmurs grow louder as people realize just how high you’ve been ranked. You steal a glance at Namjoon across the battlefield, catching the surprise on his face. There’s no turning back now.

Professor Oak continues calling out names, and the tension only rises with each ranking.

"Yoongi Min, ranked fourth."

Yoongi steps forward, his usual calm expression giving little away, though you know the competitive fire burns beneath the surface. He glances at you, a subtle acknowledgment of the challenge ahead.

"Jongho Choi, ranked fifth."

Jongho steps forward, his face unreadable but his stance radiating confidence. His presence in the top five causes another ripple of murmurs through the crowd.

"Taehyung Kim, ranked sixth."

"Hoshi Kwon, ranked seventh."

"Jihyo Park, ranked eighth."

The names continue, and the crowd grows louder with each reveal. You feel a sense of relief as you watch your friends take their places on the battlefield, knowing that the competition is going to be fierce.

Finally, Professor Oak reaches the end of the list.

"And rounding out the top sixteen, Yunjin Huh, ranked sixteenth."

She is going to be giving you an earful for sure. You aren’t sure you agree with Yunjin being last, but then again someone has to be last. Being selected at all means she has shown exceptional excellence. Though sometimes she does let her emotions rule her decisions. Several times you have watched her get flustered when it was obvious she was losing. It only made her performance worse.

With all the names called, Professor Oak smiles at the assembled trainers. "These rankings are just the beginning. Over the next six weeks we will tell you who the first round of competitors will be facing off against and over the course of this tournament, you’ll all have the chance to prove your skills. Remember, no ranking is final—the battles ahead will decide who truly stands at the top."

The crowd erupts in applause, excitement buzzing in the air as the tournament officially kicks off. You barely register the cheers, your mind racing with the weight of what’s ahead. You are swarmed by your friends, most of whom are now also your competitors.

“We are going to get drinks at Brock’s!” Jimin says, his arm proudly wrapped around Taehyung’s shoulder. “See you there.”

Jimin, Taehyung, Yunjin, Hiyyih, Yoongi and Chaewon walk off towards the many steps leading into town. They are practically bouncing with their excitement. Namjoon appears beside you with a proud smile playing on his lips.

Namjoon meets your eyes, his familiar smile back in place but tinged with relief. “I knew it,” he says, his voice warm with pride. “I knew you were going to be selected. Congratulations, YN.”

You smile back, your pulse still racing from the reveal to the entire school. “Thanks,” you say, feeling your shoulders loosen as the weight of keeping the secret lifts.

Namjoon shifts, glancing down for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry for acting weird earlier,” he admits softly, his voice filled with honesty. “I guess I’ve just been overthinking. After I told you how I feel, I’ve been more…vulnerable, I guess? And with you being distant this week, it made me jump to conclusions that I messed up or pushed you away.”

Your heart clenches at his words. You’ve been so wrapped up in the tournament, so focused on keeping the secret, that you didn’t realize how much you were unintentionally shutting him out.

You open your mouth to respond, to maybe tell him something about your own feelings, but the words stall in your throat. Instead, you shift the conversation, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“When did you want to tell me? You know, before you kind of…blurted it out.”

Namjoon chuckles softly, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“Honestly? I didn’t have a set moment. I thought maybe after the tournament, once everything calmed down. Then I was thinking two or three weeks from now so you would have time to process it before the tournament starts. But then, I felt like if I didn’t say it then, I’d never get another chance. So it just sort of came out.”

You laugh lightly. “I’m glad you told me. Now come on, let’s catch up with the rest of them.”

Namjoon and you walk together toward Brock’s, the bar that everyone is heading to after the announcement. As you near the bar, the sound of laughter and conversation spills out onto the street, along with the soft strumming of live acoustic music playing from inside. The warm glow of the neon sign above the door reads “Brock’s Tavern” in large, bold letters, and you can already tell the place is packed with students celebrating the reveal of the winter tournament rankings.

Stepping inside, the atmosphere is electric. The lights are low, casting everything in a soft, golden hue. Strings of fairy lights hand across the ceiling, and the brick walls are adorned with pictures of famous trainer battles. The bar itself is polished wood, lined with stools, most of them already taken. People are standing around the high tables and booths, talking animatedly, clinking glasses, and toasting to the upcoming battles.

The scent of fire snacks, pizza, and fresh drinks fills the air, making your mouth water. The place hums with excitement, and it feels like everyone here is celebrating something. Over by the bar, Jimin is laughing loudly, clearly in his element, with Taehyung and Hiyyih engaged in a competitive arm wrestling match, drawing many cheers from those around them.

You and Namjoon make your way through the crowd joining your friends. Hiyyih hands you a drink and you gladly accept. She’s beaming with pride and you can’t help but think she deserves this ranking.

After a while you slip away the group finding yourself drifting towards Yoongi, who is casually against the back wall, sipping a drink. His expression is calm, but his eyes are alert, quietly taking everything in. You notice Yunjin seated nearby, just out of earshot, but her usual lively energy is missing. She’s nursing a drink, her eyes downcast, and you can’t help but wonder if her low ranking is weighing on her more than she’d like to admit. “Third place, huh? Not bad,” he says, his voice low and calm, but there’s a competitive edge to his words.

“Fourth’s not too shabby either,” you reply, matching his tone.

For a moment the two of you remain silent. You can tell he’s holding back from asking something, waiting for you to speak first. “So,” Yoongi finally breaks the silence, his voice low, teasing. “Did you have that little chat with Namjoon?”

You turn, your back stiffening at the question. When did he suddenly go back to rude Yoongi? He’s been oddly nice recently, decent even. Maybe it’s because of the time you’ve spent together in bed but still. Now right after the rankings come out, he’s suddenly cold again. You roll your eyes but don’t meet his gaze. You can’t let him know how confusing this feels right now.

“Why do you care?” you ask with a little more venom than necessary.

He takes a step towards you, his lips curling into that smirk that you both hate and can’t help but notice. It’s a look you’ve seen hundreds of times before, one that pulls you in and drives you mad all at once. Maybe he’s acting this way because he’s had a few too many to drink? “Oh, I don’t know…thought maybe you’d want to share how that went. What’d he say? Something sweet?” His voice drops, mocking, as if he’s already heard every word of the conversation and is just toying with you now.

Your fingers twitch at your side, irritation bubbling up as you finally meet his eyes. His expression is unreadable like he’s trying to gauge your reaction. Or maybe...maybe he’s angry? Upset that you ranked third and he ranked fourth. The idea tugs at your mind, but you brush it aside for now. “Yeah we talked.” you snap back. “What’s it to you?”

Yoongi hums, coming ever closer. Too close. His smirk widens as he peers down at you, eyes dark with that lazy intensity that never fails to make your pulse race. “Just wondering if he gave you everything you needed,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost intimate. “Or if you’re still looking for something else.”

The words hang in the air, thick with implication, and your heart races, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Is he jealous? Upset that you ranked higher? Or was this just Yoongi being Yoongi, pushing your buttons like he always does? The thought nags at you, but you force yourself to stay composed.

You step back slightly, lifting your chin with a forced smirk. “You think that’s any of your business?”

Yoongi’s grin widens, his dark eyes locked onto yours as he steps even closer, crowding your space. “I think it’s very much my business. You always come back, don’t you?”

His words hit deeper than you’d like to admit, the truth behind them cutting through your defenses. You always end up here, tangled in whatever this thing is between you two. It’s not soft or simple, it’s sharp, messy, and it pulls you in every time.

Your jaw clenches as you try to stand your ground. “You think too highly of yourself.”

He chuckles, the sound low and knowing, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His touch is light but deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine. “Maybe. But we both know how this goes.”

Your breath catches at his touch, but you force yourself to stay firm, even though your heart is pounding in your chest. “I’m not playing your games, Yoongi.”

His smirk deepens, turning darker, more dangerous. He leans in, his lips just brushing past your ear, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Who said anything about games?”

The words send a jolt through you, and you curse yourself for letting him get this close again. You know you should push him away, but instead, you’re stuck—frozen in the electric pull between you two, your body betraying you.

Yoongi pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression unreadable. “You can pretend all you want, but I know you better than anyone.”

Your fists clench at your sides, frustration and something else—something dangerous—bubbling inside you. He always knows how to push your buttons, how to cut through your walls with just a look or a touch. And as much as you hate it, part of you knows he’s right.

“Yoongi—” you start, but your voice comes out sharper than you meant it to, and he cuts you off before you can finish.

“I’m free tonight,” he says, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “In case you get… lonely.” His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back up, locking onto yours with a look that makes your breath catch.

The air between you feels thick, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken tension. For a second, you’re tempted. You can still feel the ghost of his touch, and part of you wants to fall back into it. But you can’t, you won’t.

“You wish,” you shoot back, defiant.

Yoongi’s smirk only deepens, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Maybe. But I won’t be the one wishing later.”

There’s a long, charged silence between you, the tension crackling like static. Finally, you take a step back, putting some much-needed distance between you. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“And you love it,” Yoongi counters easily, his voice smooth as ever.

You don’t respond, just glare at him before turning away, your pulse still racing. You hate how easily he gets under your skin, how he always knows exactly what to say to throw you off balance. But most of all, you hate that part of you doesn’t want him to stop.

As you walk away, you can still feel his eyes on you, his presence lingering even when you’re no longer standing next to him. And no matter how much you tell yourself you’re done with him, you know it’s not that simple. Because no matter what, you always end up right back here, caught in this dangerous, intoxicating pull.

“You good?” Hiyyih asks when you rejoin the group, her brow furrowed in concern.

You force a smile, shaking your head slightly to shake off the lingering tension from your encounter with Yoongi.

“Yeah, just... you know how it is.” You shrug, trying to keep your tone light.

Hiyyih eyes you skeptically, clearly not buying it. “You sure? You seemed a little... intense back there.” She leans closer, lowering her voice. “Was it about the rankings?”

You roll your eyes, feeling a flush of annoyance creeping up your neck. “I really don’t know.” You glance around the group, taking in their chatter and laughter, the familiar comfort of friends. It’s hard to believe how quickly things can shift from playful to complicated.

Hiyyih watches you closely, her expression softening. “Just be careful, okay? You don’t want to get too tangled up in whatever this is. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

You nod, feeling the weight of her words. “I know. I’m trying to keep my focus.”

“Good. Just remember, you have us.” She gestures to the rest of the group, who are still laughing and teasing one another, a comforting backdrop to the chaos swirling in your mind.

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, genuinely grateful. It’s a small relief to have friends who see you through the madness. As the conversation shifts back to lighthearted banter, you force yourself to join in, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Yoongi, to the way he looks at you and how easily he pulls you in. Not wanting to think about these feelings any longer you decide it’s time to leave. “I’m going to head out.”

Hiyyih looks understanding and quickly offers to walk back to the dorm with you.

“It’s okay. I’ll walk with her.” Namjoon says, appearing behind you. You didn’t realize he was so close by.

“Joon, it’s okay I can walk home by myself.” You insist, but he’s not going to take no for an answer.

“I was going to leave soon anyway.” He replies.

With a brief goodbye to the rest of your friends Namjoon and you head into the cool night air. He takes your hand in his large one. It’s peaceful for a few moments before Namjoon speaks up.

“What happened back there?” His voice is soft and careful.

“Yoongi was being weird. He’s been so nice lately then…I guess I should explain what he was asking about.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me.” He says with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

You bite your lip before saying the next words. “Well it’s about you.”

“Huh?” Namjoon looks over at you with a questioning look.

“After you confessed to me I sat alone for a while, but then I ended up going to Yoongi’s dorm. He was very…” Your mind fills with images of Yoongi touching you. “understanding. I told him you confessed to me and I didn’t know what to do.”

“He must be jealous that you're spending time with me and that you ranked better than him.” Namjoon muses. You look into his eyes and are glad to see no anger. “You could’ve just talked to me.”

“My head was a mess. Still kind of is.”

He pulls you to a stop and cradles your cheek in his free hand. He pushes your hair away from your face. The dim street lights shining on his face somehow make him look even more dream like.

“That’s okay.” He brings his face closer to yours. Just inches between your lips. Your heart stammers in your chest. “I’m always here for you, YN.”

He backs away with a low laugh and the two of you continue back to your dorm. When you reach the door Namjoon drops your hand but doesn’t make a move to leave.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Namjoon hesitates for a second, glancing at the door before meeting your eyes again. “Are you sure?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

He returns the smile, and together you step inside, the atmosphere between you two comfortable yet charged with an underlying current of unspoken emotions. As you close the door behind you, the quiet of your room seems to wrap around both of you, offering a sense of privacy and relief from the night’s tension.

Namjoon sits on the edge of your bed, looking around as if taking in the small details of your space. You move to join him, sitting beside him, close but not quite touching. For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s the kind of silence that feels safe, like there’s no pressure to fill it with unnecessary words.

Eventually, you lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. Namjoon lets out a soft sigh, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you a little closer. His touch is gentle, comforting, and you relax into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

“Thank you for walking me home.” You murmur, your voice quiet, almost drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat. Being next to him feels different, softer than what you shared with Yoongi. Namjoon’s presence is grounding, safe.

The two of you scoot to the top of your bed so you are leaning against the headboard. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing slow soothing circles on your side.

“I know part of what is causing this confused, torn feeling is me, but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m still here for you and I’m not going anywhere.”

You take in Namjoon’s words, feeling the sincerity behind them. His steady presence, the warmth of his body pressed against your, makes you feel secure in a way that surprises you. It’s as if all the chaos and confusion swirling inside your mind calms. You tilt your head slightly, glancing up at him.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Namjoon chuckles softly, his thumb continuing to draw slow circles on your side. “You don’t have to deserve me, YN. I want to be here.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “I know things are complicated with…everything else, but I’m okay with that. You can figure things out at your own pace. Just…let me be here with you while you do.”

His words make your chest tighten in a way that’s both comforting and overwhelming. He’s giving you space, but at the same time, he’s offering to stay by your side. It’s not something you’re used to.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You’re too good for me,” you say, half joking, but there’s a part of you that believes it.

Namjoon’s arm tightens around you just a little. “I think you’re selling yourself short.” he replies, his voice soft and reassuring.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, only broken by the sound of steady breathing. For a while the two of you lie there. Your head rested against his chest listening to the beat of his heart. His hand strokes the back of your hair.

Several minutes later his heart starts beating quickly and you tilt your head to look into his eyes.

“Are you nervous?” You say, and when he gives you a confused look you continue, “What were you thinking about?”

Namjoon covers his face with both hands, obviously embarrassed by whatever he was thinking about. You move to pull his hands away and when you are successful you see a beautiful blush painting his cheeks.

“I was thinking about kissing you.”

Your own heart races and before you can think better of it you reply, “Why don’t you do it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Please kiss me.” You say, letting your hand rest on the curve of his jaw. His hand moves back down to your waist. “Maybe it’ll help me work through some things.”

“O-okay.”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker with a mixture of uncertainty and longing as he leans in slowly, giving you ample time to change your mind. But you don’t want to, in fact you feel a pull toward him, something soft and magnetic. His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, as if he’s afraid of moving too quickly. The kiss is gentle, a slow, careful exploration, his warmth enveloping you as he lingers there.

His hand moves from your waist to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers slipping through your hair as he deepens the kiss ever so slightly. It’s not rushed. It’s tender, as if he’s trying to tell you something with every soft movement of his lips, something beyond words. You respond in kind, your hand tracing along his jaw, feeling the light stubble beneath your fingers as you tilt your head to meet him more fully.

Namjoon pulls away for a brief moment, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. His thumb brushes against your cheek, his gaze filled with something so soft and full of care that it makes your heart swell. “You okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, feeling breathless but in the best way possible. “Yeah,” you reply softly, leaning back in before you lose your courage. “I’m more than okay.”

The second kiss is more assured, his lips pressing against yours with a bit more confidence, and you feel yourself melting into him. His hand slides from your neck down to your waist, pulling you closer until there is no space left between you. The warmth of his body seeps into your, grounding you, anchoring you in this moment.

You shift slightly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he adjusts his position, gently guiding you onto your back. He hovers over you, his weight comforting rather than overwhelming, his lips never leaving yours for more than a second as he kisses you again and again, each one sending sparks of warmth through your body.

It’s slow, careful—everything about this moment is soft, like he’s savoring every second with you, like he’s making sure you’re okay at every step. His kisses trail from your lips to the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, and then back up again, always returning to your lips, as if they’re home.

Namjoon shifts back onto his side pulling you close again. You gasp softly when his hand slips under your shirt, his palm resting on the small of your back, the heat from his touch is making your skin tingle. But he doesn’t push any further, his movements always measured, asking silently if this is okay. And it is. It more than is.

Namjoon’s lips meet yours once more, his kiss deepening in intensity but still retaining the same gentleness. It’s like he’s memorizing every touch, every sigh that escapes your lips. His fingers press softly into your back, holding you closer as you both sink deeper into the kiss. The weight of him above you feels comforting, safe and you find yourself completely wrapped up in him and his warmth, his touch, and his quiet breaths against your skins.

Your hands travel up his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt as you move your fingers slowly, tracing the lines of his body like you’re learning him for the first time. Which you suppose, you are. Namjoon responds with a quiet, almost inaudible groan, his lips parting slightly as he kisses you more eagerly now. His tongue grazes against yours, sending a shiver down your spine, and you can feel his hesitation slipping away, replaced by the need to be closer to you.

His hand slides up your side, beneath the fabric of your shirt, but again, he never rushes. His touch is soft, his fingers barely grazing your skin as he pauses, giving you space to let him know if it’s too much.

You tilt your head slightly, breaking the kiss just enough to catch your breath, your eyes meeting his. Namjoon’s gaze is intense, filled with a mix of longing and something deeper, something like admiration. His thumb brushes across your lips, his breathing uneven as he looks down at you.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, but still so soft, so full of care.

“It’s not,” you reply, your voice just as breathless. You guide his hand a little higher, encouraging him to explore, to keep going, because this feels right.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath, his fingers moving slowly up your side, brushing over your ribs before finally resting just beneath your chest. He’s still so careful, so considerate, as if he’s afraid of breaking this fragile moment. But the heat between you both is growing, and you can feel his heartbeat racing just as fast as yours.

He leans in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one a little more desperate, a little more hungry, like he’s finally letting himself give in to the feelings he’s been holding back. You respond eagerly, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you again. His lips move down to your neck, pressing soft, open mouth kisses along your skin, and you can’t help the quiet gasp that escapes you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe, your fingertips tightening in his hair as he continues his slow exploration of your body. The sound of his name on your lips seems to spur him on, his kisses becoming more fervent, more insistent, but never losing that underlying tenderness.

Namjoon’s lips linger on yours for just a moment longer before he pulls back, breathing heavily. He scoots his bottom half away from your embrace and you already know what he’s about to say. His forehead still rests against yours, but there’s a tension in his body now that wasn’t there before. His eyes, dark with desire, search yours as if weighing something deeply.

“YN,” he murmurs, his voice husky yet filled with restraint.“If we keep going…I’m going to get too excited, and I don’t want to rush anything.” He’s being honest, his cheeks flushed slightly as he pulls back just enough to give both of you space. “I want you to be more sure of your feelings before we do more.”

Namjoon’s words hang in the air between you, his voice gentle but filled with a weight that makes your heart tighten. His forehead presses softly against yours, and you can feel the heat of his skin, the way his breath catches as he tries to calm himself down.

“I want this to feel right for both of us,” he continues, his voice quieter now, almost like he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “I care about you too much to…rush things.” His thumb brushes against your side in slow, soothing circles, grounding you both in the moment.

You take a deep breath, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. He’s being so careful, so considerate, and it only makes your feelings for him grow stronger. The tenderness in his actions, the way he’s willing to hold back mostly for your sake, even though you can feel the desire burning between you both—it makes you realize just how special this is.

“I understand,” you whisper, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. It’s a gentle, reassuring gesture, one that tells him you’re okay with the pace he’s setting, that you appreciate the space he’s giving you to sort through your emotions. Even when you want to do so much more with him. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

Namjoon smiles, his expression softening as he leans into the kiss for just a moment before pulling away. “You’re worth it,” he says simply, his voice filled with so much sincerity it makes your chest tighten.

With a quiet sigh, you both settle back into the comfortable embrace you’d shared before, the heat between you calming as you rest your head on his chest once again. His arm wraps around you, holding you close, while his other hand continues to stroke slow, soothing patterns along your side. The earlier tension has eased, replaced by a quiet, content feeling.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The room is filled with the quiet sounds of your breathing, the steady thump of Namjoon’s heartbeat beneath your ear, and the soft rustling of fabric as you shift slightly to get more comfortable. You can feel the exhaustion from the day catching up with you, the warmth of his body against yours lulling you into a peaceful state of relaxation. The minutes tick by, and slowly, your eyes begin to drift shut. The weight of sleep tugs at you, and soon enough, you feel yourself slipping into a peaceful slumber, still wrapped in Namjoon’s embrace. His breathing grows slower, more even, and before long, you can tell he’s fallen asleep too.

════════════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ════════════

In the morning you wake slowly, blinking against the soft light filtering through the curtains. For a moment everything seems perfect, the lingering warmth, and the faint scent of Namjoon’s cologne on your sheets, but as your eyes adjust, you realize the space beside you is empty. The spot where Namjoon had been holding you all night is cold now.

#route 613 #route 613 chapter 10 #bts fanfic #Kim namjoon #min yoongi #Yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #raes fics #pokemon au #pokemon crossover #bangtan

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