#I don’t know how this happened it just did

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.1k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

The tray of food crashes to the floor at her feet. Salome gasps. Her hand shoots back, fumbling for the doorknob, and her lips part, ready to call the guard you know is just outside.

"If you call for the guard," you stop her, "I’ll cut deeper."

She clamps a hand over her mouth. "Please—stop! Hurting yourselves is a sin, a great dishonor to the body God gave you—"

“It is,” you agree calmly. You press the shard deeper into the cephalic vein, ignoring the bite of pain. Blood spills in a fresh, startling curtain down your arm, the wound mimicking the severity of an arterial cut. “And she’ll blame you for it. You’re the one she entrusted to watch over us, and you didn't notice we broke one of the mugs."

"I did not think you would—"

"What happens to you,” you cut her off, pointing the bloody shard at her stomach, “—and your baby when the two new child-bearers die because of your failure? Because I will die, if I cut any deeper. This artery,” you lie, tapping the wound for emphasis, “is important. If I finish slicing through it, I’ll bleed out in less than a minute. Not enough time for you to get help. Not even enough to try saving me yourself.”

Her lashes flutter rapidly through a swell of tears. "You could have a good life here—"

"Answer me. What happens to you if I die?"

She swallows hard. "She’ll punish me," she whispers frightfully. "I have seen what happens to those who fail her. She might take my child and I will... never see them. Please, don’t do this—”

"Why should we care about you and your child when you are okay with them killing an eleven-year-old girl tomorrow?"

A flash of shame crosses her face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't know Maman would want the girl. The offering has never been so young before. But it is God's will, there is nothing I can do to—"

"What you can do is open the cell. Open it and we will kill Maman, then you won't have to worry about anyone taking your baby. But if you don't open it, then we die in here and you will face her punishment."

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She looks between you and Nereida, eyes darting wildly, fingers twitching against her stomach. 

"Decide before I bleed out!"

"I... I can't," she says pitifully.

With a glance at Nereida, she takes her cue, digging into her vein.

"Open the cell," Nereida urges far more soothingly than you can, blood dripping to her elbow. "We won't hurt you. We want Maman gone, not you."

Salome whimpers under her breath, but her fingers move before her mind catches up, reaching inside her robe to retrieve the key, gripping it like it might burn her. She shuffles closer but pauses, inhaling deeply before finally reaching the door. Her hands shake so violently that the key rattles against the lock. It slips against the metal, failing to match the hole, and your finger twitches when she nearly drops it.

"Mais si elles ne parviennent pas à la tuer..." The whisper leaves quietly, lost beneath the veil. "Sa punition pour moi sera pire."

Then, her hand curls back around the key.

She swallows hard—and steps back.

No. 

You see red.

A growl curls at your mouth and you snap forward, grabbing onto her dress through the bars before she can retreat too far, and pulling her flush against them, her forehead banging into the metal. Before she can scream, you clamp a bloody hand over her mouth and then press the piece of broken mug to her neck with just enough pressure to make her panic. She gasps into your palm, struggling. You dig it harder, forcing her body to turn still and rigid.

"Twix—"

"I tried doing things the nicer way," you speak in a low snarl, veering off the script you and Nereida conjured. Round, glossy eyes stare into yours. "You should have made up your mind before getting within my reach. Now give her the key. I’d hate for my hand to slip."

Another sharp press into her skin wrings a squeak from her, her breath coming out jagged and uneven against your palm. Trembling, she extends an arm through the bars, offering the key to Nereida.

The moment Nereida takes it, she fumbles to find the lock from the outside, her fingers searching blindly. The key scrapes against the metal—once, twice—before a soft click finally reaches your ears.

The door swings open.

You don’t hesitate. Keeping your grip firm over Salome’s mouth, you shove through the opening and swing around to the other side. Before she can react, you force her back into the cell, driving her onto the bed. The veil tears free from her head as you pin her down, your weight pressing her into the mattress, the sharp fragment still poised at her throat. When her legs begin to flail helplessly, you order Nereida to grab them. She clasps Salome's ankles to keep her from bucking you off.

"You were afraid of the wrong person," you hiss, your nose nearly brushing hers. "Maman may have spared your life because she values her baby makers—but I don’t. Answer everything I ask, or I’ll show you just how merciless I can be."

The dishonest threat rolls off your tongue with enough force to make her nod frantically, fear widening her eyes. But what she doesn’t need to know—what you won’t let her see—is the part of you still holding back. Because even now, even as you pin her down and press the shard to a vital piece of her throat, you’re careful. You don’t dig hard enough to damage. You don’t let your weight bear down on the swell of her stomach.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I am going to lift my hand, and you're not going to scream. You're going to tell me everything we need to know about the guards out there."

Her lips are puffy and raw when you set them free. 

"There is only one outside the d-door," she sputters in a whisper. "B-but there are more... more by the... h-homes and the keep."

"The keep?"

"Where they keep the new m-males," she chokes out, snot dripping from her nose.

"That's in the old slaughterhouse, right?"

She nods.

"How many guards are over there exactly?"

"I do not know." At your glare, she rushes out, "B-but there are less after d-dinner ends. Many go to sleep, and switch shifts at sunrise."

You mull over the information, eyes darting across her face. “And the child—the offering? Where is Maman keeping her?”

A terrible look of fear ripples through her eyes. "Only few are allowed near the offering b-before her ascension. 

"So you're telling me you don't know?" you seethe in her face.

She sobs. "I know they... they will offer her to the démons right before the sun rises. The night is when God’s wrath is strongest, but it’s in the morning—when hope ascends—that we seek atonement."

Despite further pressing, that seems to be the extent of what she knows—or she's still withholding. Either way, you're satisfied enough. You rip strips of the sheet, using one to gag her and two more to bind her wrists and ankles. You and Nereida wrap your wounded wrists tightly to stop the flow. Then, you remove her white gown. You’ll need something to wear that doesn't easily mark you as an escapee, but there’s only the one white dress and veil. You hurriedly slip into them, making sure all of your hair and face is hidden, leaving Nereida still in the thin slip. The shoes Salome wears are thin and made of unsupported leather, but they are all you have to tuck your bare feet into.

Salome said there will be fewer guards after dinner. You and Nereida listen carefully to every sound that bleeds through the window. When you hear a few exchanges of bonne nuit, you figure people are starting to retire for the night. You take this as your cue to grip your makeshift weapon. The guard outside the door is expecting Salome to leave at some point, giving you the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard while dressed as her.

You quietly open the door to the warm summer night, the long gown ghosting around your ankles. As expected, a well-built man leans against the side of the building, arms crossed languidly. No one else is in sight, which brings you some relief. When his gaze shifts to you, he raises a brow.

"Tout va bien, mademoiselle? Vous êtes restée là-dedans un moment."

The last word barely makes it out of his mouth. Within a heartbeat, you spring at him like the head of a snake, one hand over his mouth and the other stabbing his neck with the shard, then sweeping it through the thick of his trachea. A gush of blood oozes out in one thick stream, before he gargles out a strangled choke and turns to dead weight against the wall. 

With Nereida's help, you quickly push his body inside the building to keep anyone from spotting it. 

"Wear this," you usher, already starting to undress him. Like the man who visited you, he's wearing a grey cloak. Though it's too big for her, and bloodied, it will be enough to keep her discreet in the dark, her long hair safely tucked beneath the hood.

Two things race through your mind: the ticking time toward sunrise and the fact that you still don’t know how many more men you’ll have to take out to reach Ghost, Price, and Kyle. The knife you find on the guard adds a small weapon to your shitty arsenal. You have no idea where they could’ve stored the guns and ammo they took from you, or your bow. How you'll manage to fight through a community of cultists without those is a worry you can’t afford to dwell on right now—one step at a time.

After a few minutes of collecting yourselves, urgency pulls the two of you outside, free from the barred enclosure for the first time in almost four days. In the blanket of night, you quickly scan the area, taking in what you’re up against. The community appears fairly spread out, with only six small farmhouses like the one you just escaped from, along with a few larger structures in the near distance—likely where they house the men. You catch a glimpse of a fenced pasture’s perimeter and the unmistakable stench of cattle fills the air. Despite the faint shuffle of hooves and grey plumes of smoke from a few of the chimneys, everything is eerily still, leaving an unnerving amount of quiet for your heart to shatter through.

From what you can see, there aren’t many places to hide Blue, but there could be more to this place beyond what’s visible, especially since the chapel you first saw is nowhere in sight. But none of that matters right now; you need to find the others first if you’re going to have any real chance of saving her and getting out of here.

The next male you encounter spots you first as you make your way up the gravel road towards the barn, the sound of his boots making your hand tighten on the knife's handle. He greets you unassumingly in French, causing Nereida to startle beside you as his shadow approaches. Then he stops in front of her, his shoulders tensing and his hand hovering near a knife at his waist.

"Que fais-tu avec la femelle? C’est interdit!"

Again, you go for the throat, desperate to silence any screams that could cause alarm. You get a good swipe at the base of it, but he is at least a head taller than you, making it difficult to stab fully. He grabs you by the waist, clearly in shock that a veiled female just sprung on him with a knife, but swipes a fist at your face nonetheless. The force spreads through your temple, thrusting your head to the side. 

"Take the knife from him," you hiss at Nereida through the pain, who until now was effectively frozen. She finally moves, using the distraction you've caused as he clutches his bleeding neck, and snatches the knife still hanging at his waist. Once she has it, you leap at the disarmed man again, this time stabbing his liver. With a muffled grown, he face-plants into the gravel, quickly soaking it with blood. 

"The body," she stutters worriedly. "We need to hide it."

You look around, spotting stacks of chopped wood.

"Over there. Help me drag him."

Once the body is heaved behind the logs, you pat him down in search for anything else, but there's nothing.

"Keep that on you," you tell her, and she gives a quick nod, hiding the knife under her sleeve.

You keep following the road up to the fence, your white dress splattered with crimson, resembling the dotted stars overhead. The 'keep' is somewhere by the barn that man said, but you notice smaller buildings to the right and to the left of it. Which one looks like an old slaughterhouse? It's too difficult to tell even when you squint, so you grab Nereida's arm and quickly lower by a bush.

"Watch that one, and I'll keep an eye on this one. Whichever building has more guards patrolling is probably where they're holding them."

"Okay," she whispers, peering around the bush.

Minutes pass. The building on the right has more shadows skirting around it—three guards total. You take a moment to study their movements. One is stationed near the back, the other two at the front.

"I want you to take the one at the back and wait for me. I'll handle the other two."

"How do I take him?" she whispers uncertainly. "He’ll see me coming."

"You’ll come at it from an angle." You point toward a stack of hay. "Sneak over there, quietly. Once you're behind it, circle around and approach where he can't see."

She hesitates, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. "I’ve never—"

"Never killed anyone?" 

The way she grips the knife, her fingers white on the handle, confirms it.

"These people deserve it, Nereida," you say, forcing her to meet your gaze. "John is in there."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of it all presses down on her. When she opens them again, her jaw is set, and her grip on the knife tightens.

After reminding her where to strike, you pause for a moment, watching as she sneaks over to the hay. Then, you move toward the other two, slipping behind a tree for cover, but your foot catches on something and you almost trip, catching yourself against the bark. Your breath hitches and you steal a peek at them to make sure they didn't hear you. No—they are too busy murmuring to each other, laughing in a low exchange.

When you glance down, you spot a shovel half-buried into the ground, its handle sticking out. Carefully, you wriggle it free, having to grit your teeth to fully remove it. This will let you stun one while you deal with the other. Inhaling deeply to center yourself, palm tight over the splintered wood handle, you close in on the two guards.

The shorter one with curly hair spots you just before you take a swing, his eyes widening. The shovel slams into his skull, effectively making him stumble to the ground, but slips from your grip from the force. The other guard whirls around, hand slapping for the pistol at his belt. You deliver three consecutive stabs to his stomach, heart, and cheek. The gun never leaves his waist before he falls dead.

You suck in a gulp of air just as the curly-haired one regains his footing. His head is still heavy from the blow, and before he can draw his knife, you shove him in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. You pin him easily beneath you, his movements sluggish and weak. The two of you wrestle in the grass, jagged breaths mixing with frantic, scraping nails, until, with a snarl, your knife finds purchase in his neck, stealing the life from his eyes in an instant. You stab him again and again, shaking, until the ticking urgency pulls you back into control. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and wiggle the knife lodged in his trachea, your hands slippery with blood.

"You got death," you spit in a whisper, thumbing his lids shut.

You lift up.

Now you have a single gun.

It is an old thing. Outdated and far from the military-grade weapons Ghost has. It takes a moment to figure out the parts—your fingers fumble for the small magazine, which is stocked with three bullets. You pull the slide to chamber a round with a click and keep it ready in your hand as you circle the building toward the back, praying that Nereida managed. When you find her, she is stood over the man's body, a deep cut oozing on her cheek.

"He saw me," she says, swallowing. "But I did it."

You nod. "We need to hide them before we go in."

All three bodies are hidden behind the hay stacks. You cover them with manure to mask the smell, not wanting a horde of Greys to materialize. You'd spotted a door at the back and hope it may be more discreet then blazing in through the front, given that you don't know who all is in there. Finger ready on the trigger, you hold your breath as you lead Nereida into the old building, instantly met with the rich smell of pennies. The space quickly unfolds into an old butcher house, rusted hooks hanging from the stone ceiling, the air cramped and cold. 

"Une femme? Maman ne voudrait pas de toi—"

The voice echoes in your ear as you round the corner, and then a fiery bullet rips into the owner's chest. Nereida flinches. Another guard comes barreling over, shouting, but you slide the chamber and shoot him in the head.

You don't linger by the bodies, itching to check the first steel door you see. You lower the gun only to pull at the handle, but it won't budge.

"Check him for keys," you motion to the dead guard.

Nereida crouches, hands rifling through his pockets until she yanks free a ring of keys. Her fingers shake as she tries them one by one, the lock stubborn—until, at last, it gives. With a sharp tug, the door groans open, revealing a windowless chamber. In the center, a lone captive hangs from chains.

It’s Price. Shackles bite into his wrists, his bare chest mapped with deep bruises against pale skin. Beaten, but unbroken—his gaze sharp as it lifts to meet yours. Nereida chokes on a sob, ripping the hood off her head and sinking to her knees before him, cupping his jaw.

A weighted baritone manages: "Duchess."

"There is nowhere I will not find you," she croaks. Teary kisses find the corner of his mouth. "I'm here, I'm here."

"How did you—"

"We got out. Where are the others?" you ask.

His jaw grits. "I haven't seen them since they knocked us out."

"They must be here somewhere. We need to move quick before someone notices the bodies."

After finding the small key to undo the manacles, you leave them to each other for the moment, continuing down the hall until the next door. An undeniable pull rises in your chest, something that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rushing through you—something you can’t quite name. But when you open the door, your heart falters with unwelcome disappointment at the sight of Kyle. He looks equally battered, but still aware enough to lift his head as you step in.

"Who are you?" 

You lift the veil.

"It's me," you answer, the words almost lost in the rush of emotions. Only when you fully take in the room do you notice Ari, curled in the corner. They’ve put them in here together. While there are no obvious injuries on the boy, the sight of the open Bible on his lap, and the empty dinner plate beside him, sends a cold shiver down your spine. You touch his cheek, feeling warmth, and reassure him he’s safe.

You release both of them. "Price and Nereida are through the door down the left. I need to find Ghost. I’ll be back."

Kyle rubs his wrists and manages to stand despite his black eye and shaky legs. "I’ll come with you."

"No. I’ll get him." The words come out sharper than you mean to, but you turn away before he can question them.

You are pulled further through the tight, cold hallway, movements turning more hurried as you look around. There are a few more half-opened doors, but they only lead to supply closets filled with whips and metal batons and empty chambers where old blood stains the floors. Something sharp tugs at your heart, and for the first time since initiating your escape, your fingertips succumb to a tremor of fear. 

Where is he?

The hall spits out into a room where dried animal carcasses hang from the walls.

One final door sits on the far end.

The rusted lock resists, swears hissing from your lips—until a sharp kick forces it open.

The smell thickens with fresh blood, and a cold pit sinks into your stomach at the sight of him—bound in chains, his body slumped haphazardly. Unlike the others, he doesn’t lift his head. You rush forward, a shaky breath catching in your throat as you take in the blood caked on his shoulder blades, deep welts splitting through the inked skin. His back, too, is covered in wounds. He looks worse—so much worse—that a bite of anger swells moisture in your eyes.

"Simon, you idiot. What did you do?" The words slip out on a sharp inhale as you lower yourself in front of him. "Simon," you whisper again, silent tears hot against your lips. You thread a hand through his hair, tilting his jaw up with careful fingers. His eyes are heavy, but relief finds you when they flutter open. He’s alive. The reddened whites flicker over your face, unfocused—until something strange sharpens the haze. A flicker of fear.

"It's me, Simon. We're getting out of here."

The brief fear shifts into shock when he recognizes your face, and only after you fumble with the key ring does understanding click into place, causing his jaw to flex. "Where... where is she?"

"I don't know, but we need to hurry. They have her." You undo the manacles, and his body rolls heavily into you, face falling onto your collarbone. You struggle to hold him up, gripping his shoulders without touching the wounds. A low groan bleeds through his teeth, and his eyes flutter shut again. No, no, no. "Please, you have to... you have to get up, Simon. I can't—she's going to fucking die!"

His upper chest rapidly expands with a breath, and he musters the strength to lift his weight off you and slap a hand against the wall. As he leverages his weight up, you help by grabbing beneath his other arm, until a final rush of adrenaline gets him on his feet. Urgency snaps tension into his limp shoulders, and he growls out another, more steady, breath.

"Price," he says.

"He's alive. Come on."

It takes some effort to help him walk at first, but eventually, he manages on his own. You guide him to the first room, where the others are pacing, murmuring in low voices.

"Simon, Jesus," Price mutters when he sees him.

Ghost brushes it off, his eyes narrowing. "They're going to kill her."

"At sunrise," you add, your voice tight. You pull out the pistol and show it to them. "I have one bullet left. I don't know how many more men are in this cult, but we've killed six so far."

"We have one shitty old gun." Kyle growls in frustration. "They took all our shit. How are we going to—"

"We find the weapons. They must have stored them somewhere," Price says.

"We can't just go searching through every building here. We don't have the time," you press. "And how are we supposed to get it back without everyone noticing we're gone?"

"I don't give a fuck about the guns. We find her first," Ghost grits, nostrils flaring. 

"We can't help her if we don't think things through. We can't just start a war with these people empty-handed, Simon," Price says.

"We find her first!"

"Simon," you say, reaching for his arm, but he pulls it away, clenching his bloody fist. The energy radiating from him would scare you if you didn't feel the same way.

Just then, there is the faint sound of a door opening and footsteps clanging through the hall. You tense up, two male voices shouting in echoes, one of them vaguely familiar.

"Quelqu'un les a tués ! On doit régler cette merde avant que Maman découvre quoi que ce soit."

"Les putains de prisonniers!"

Before you can react, Ghost snatches the pistol from your grip. The second they rush toward the open door, he launches at them—an elbow to one’s face, the butt of the gun breaking the nose of the other. Price uses Nereida's knife to stab the fallen guard, while Kyle helps Ghost subdue the second one. You only recognize him as the man who made you strip when they forcibly drag him toward the manacles, the sight of his blonde hair making your nails curl into your palms.

"You stupid fucking Brits!"

Ghost strikes the gun into his left eye, making him jerk within the constraints, howling as the socket turns into bloody pulp. 

Kyle grips the man's scalp from behind to hold his head up, while Ghost presses the gun into his cheek, where you notice a wound shaped like a bite mark.

"Tell us where she is," he roars. "Or I'll take the other eye."

Nereida cowers into the corner, holding onto Ari's arm. 

"I don't know!" the man spits blood, and Ghost digs the gun into his cheek, ripping it open further until the bitten flesh hangs as a torn flap, exposed all the way to his eye. The scream that follows feels inhuman. "I swear, I don't—I don't fucking know!"

Fresh blood drips to the floor. Price, much more calm, lowers at the man's side. "How many people live here?"

The man grits his teeth, struggling to answer, "T-thirty males, and six females. Plus the infants."

Twenty-two now, you count in your head.

"And the weapons we had. What about those?" Price questions further.

When only staggered, pained breaths fills the room, Ghost tosses the bloody gun and grabs the knife from Price, stabbing the man's kneecap without hesitation. Another scream ensues, and there is the small itch to cover your ears, but you steel yourself against the wall to keep watching.

"Answer the fucking question." Ghost twists the knife in his knee.

He cries out, more bloody spittle flying from his mouth. "All of the ammo is hidden. Only A-Alexandre knows!"

"Who is Alexandre?"

“Maman's son, he enforces her commands and oversees the males.”

"Where is he?" Price asks, voice hard.

“He… he resides in the work shed, while the rest of us sleep in the quarters within the barn.”

You step forward. "We saw another building outside with just one guard, that must be it."

There is a beat of silence as Price processes the information, giving Ghost a satisfied nod. With pain still contorting his face, the man's eye drifts past Ghost's shoulder toward you. His lips twitch into a faint, bloody smirk that makes your skin crawl. Ghost follows his gaze, snarls, and abruptly slashes the man's throat from ear to ear.

B

It is still dark when Eloise comes to awaken her, though Blue's eyes never once fell shut with sleep. She spent the short-lived night alternating between staring at the crescent moon outside the window, and fiddling with the knitting needles left on the table. There is a new dress in the woman's clutch, beautiful white fabric embroidered with flowers, and a pair of beautiful leather shoes in the other hand.

"See? I told you the dress would be nicer." She smiles and hands it over, as if to offer something to be thrilled for. "You must change quickly. There is a lovely breakfast of framboises and milk waiting for you. Put these on as well." She sets the shoes on the floor.

Blue thinks it strange, to bother feeding her just before her death. Blankly, she asks, "How many people will be there? To watch me die."

Eloise's smile quivers slightly, a slight crack in her composure. "Not too many, I assure you. Only a few of us women, and one or two worthy men. Most are still sleeping." After a pause, she adds even quieter, almost ashamed, "Be thankful you don’t suffer through childbirth instead. It is... a painful thing. Long, too. At least this pain will be honorable and swift."

Blue's fingers tighten around the dress. "Okay. Do you mind if I change alone, please?"

Eloise bows her head. "Of course."

She casts one last gentle glance her way before shuffling out of the room, locking the door behind her and leaving Blue with only the dress and shoes. Once the door is closed, Blue quickly slips the dress on, shuddering as the cold fabric caresses her limbs. It’s more beautiful than anything she can remember ever wearing, and that disgusts her. Swallowing the churn in her stomach, she grabs the needles and sits back on the bed.

The wounds on her feet are shallow, her fingernails only able to pierce the thick skin slightly. Using the needles, she digs into them deeper, trembling from the pain that throbs as fresh blood begins to seep from the soles. She cuts and cuts furiously, teeth gritted, praying it’s enough to soak into the shoes she slips on over the new wounds. She covers the blood stains on the sheet with the blanket, then stands, almost crying out from the agony of walking on her torn feet.

"Please dad," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly, before calling to Eloise that she is ready.

"But if they don't manage to kill her... her punishment for me will be worse." "Is everything alright, miss? You've been in there for a while." "What are you doing with the female? It’s forbidden!" "A woman? Maman wouldn’t want you—" "Someone killed them! We need to fix this shit before Maman finds out anything." "The fucking prisoners!"

[starlightswitch]

@flashfictionfridayofficial I was thinking about this idea since like Wednesday and the prompt slotted right in. But it's European Figure Skating Championship week and I was running out of time to watch replays, so it took me two days to finish it and to the Antique Prompts list it goes.

First Time For a Few Things

“Mom?” Chloe’s voice from upstairs.

“It’s after midnight!” Nina hadn’t looked at the clock but she had a feel for time when she was painting. If she was up after midnight painting it meant she was in a flow, and her daughter was not supposed to distract her unless it was an emergency.

“I… need… help.”

Nina rested her brush hand. “What kind of help?” she called, a sigh coming out in the middle of the words. She couldn’t imagine an emergency that would put that tone in Chloe’s voice—not urgent distress, more like… embarrassment?

“I think you need to come up here.”

This time the sigh was more quiet, but very, very long. Nina set her work aside and headed upstairs to find her daughter.

The first thing she saw in her daughter’s room was a teenage girl who was not her daughter.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” the girl said. “I don’t even know how I got here, and then that thing is asking Chloe what she wants it to do with me!”

Sure enough, at the other side of the room lurked a familiar frightening figure. And her daughter.

“He just… showed up!” said Chloe.

“The agreement,” said Nina, half to the demon, “was that you would be protected from harm. What harm were you coming to?” There was a little snark in her tone. She had a feeling she would not define it as harm.

“I was, um, just upset about something that happened with her. No big deal.”

Nina looked at the demon, then back at her daughter. She raised her eyebrows.

“Well, I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“She told me to bring her to her,” the demon put in. Nina didn’t think she was imagining a bit of a whine in his voice.

“You got that thing involved—” said the other girl, staring at Chloe, “—because your—”

“I didn’t get that thing involved!” Chloe insisted. “I don’t know how he got here!”

“But you know how I got here! I got here because you told it to bring me to you. Then what were you going to do?”

“I don’t know!” That tone that might be embarrassment again. “I didn’t think that far!”

“So what happened?” said Nina. “What started this?”

“We don’t have to get into it!” said Chloe.

Nina looked at the other girl.

The girl raised her chin. “Her boyfriend broke up with her,” she said. “And started dating me.”

Nina swept her gaze back to Chloe. “So it wasn’t something she did?” she said.

“I mean,” said Chloe, staring at her feet, “it wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t exist.”

The other girl’s voice peaked. “You were going to tell it you wanted me to not exist?”

“I told you I didn’t think that far!”

Nina took a very deep breath. “You don’t want a guy who doesn’t want you and wants someone else,” she said to her daughter. “Trust me, you don’t.”

“I can’t just not want him!”

“You could try harder than you’re currently trying.”

Chloe went back to staring at her feet and did not say she couldn’t try harder.

After a minute, Nina said, “So now what do we do?”

“Ultimately I answer to you,” said the demon.

Nina was looking at Chloe.

Chloe rubbed her head, her chin in her hand like she was getting a headache. “He should take her back to where she was,” she said sullenly. “And I should try to get over the guy. I guess. And you’re probably going to say this dude can’t take orders from me.”

Nina swallowed a laugh at ‘this dude’. “The intention was to protect you from harm,” she said. “Let me now specify, physical harm. Or, obvious, direct harm. Not getting what you want is not harm, especially when it involves someone else making a choice.”

A boyfriend. It suddenly sank in. Chloe had had a boyfriend. Her daughter’s first boyfriend. Her daughter’s first breakup. She was not being the mother you were supposed to be for that.

But then, your daughter’s first breakup was not supposed to involve her sending demons after people.

“Um, can I get home?” said the girl. “So I can go to bed and not fall asleep in class tomorrow?”

“Take her home,” Chloe said with resignation. “So my mom can get back to work. I distracted her after midnight so I’m already in for it.

The demon looked at Nina. She made a gesture of “go ahead”. The demon and the other girl both vanished.

Chloe glanced at her mom. “You can go back to painting,” she said. “And we can never talk about this again." Before Nina could respond, she added, “Were you ever going to tell me I have some kind of weird, creepy god… goblin?”

That time Nina could not avoid a snort. Carefully casual, she asked in return, “Were you going to tell me you had a boyfriend?”

“I mean, it never really came up.”

Nina raised her eyebrows. “Well. Yeah.”

Chloe snorted.

“You should go to bed. It’s after midnight.”

“You should also go to bed, but you’re not going to.”

“If I’m tired in the morning, that’s my problem. If you’re tired in the morning, that’s also my problem.”

“And my problem.”

“Well, yes.” Nina shut the door, went downstairs, and went back to painting. She hoped she’d gotten away with not explaining, but knowing Chloe she knew that was too much to hope.

This should probably all feel much weirder to her than it felt. Maybe summoning a demon to protect your daughter had set the bar for abnormal pretty high. Or maybe everyone had a different sense of normal after midnight.

Seventeen years ago you summoned a demon to protect your infant daughter. Today, you regret that decision immensely. Demons should NOT be allowed to do the bidding of teenage girls.

[minniesfiles]

NICE BOYS DON’T KISS LIKE THAT

For years, it’s always been you.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; fluff

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; best friends to lovers, fluff

❧ WORDCOUNT; 0.6k

𐚁₊⊹

▍20 DECEMBER 2022

You always known Wonwoo as the cold-hearted one. The boy who never let anyone in, the one who rejected every girl who threw herself at him, the one whose heart seemed as unreachable as the stars.

And yet, somehow, you managed to be his one and only best friend that wasn’t a boy.

For years, you both existed in this strange limbo. Teasing, laughing, sharing quiet moments during free time together. But it never crossed the line. You told yourself it was enough. That the glances he would steal, the way his eyes softened just for you, the way he always seemed to find you in a crowded room, were enough.

But it wasn’t.

Not when you watched him brush off yet another girl at the party that night, his expression unreadable as always and lips pressing into a thin line as he turned away without a second glance. You heard the whispers and the way people called him heartless, untouchable.

If only they knew.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, catching his arm as he stepped outside into the cold. Snowflakes were quick to settle on his dark hair while his breath misted in the frigid air.

Wonwoo glanced down at you with his dark brown hooded eyes. You hated how small you felt next to his wide shouldered and towering figure, but they were one of the key characteristics that made Jeon Wonwoo so popular and likeable.

“What did I do now?” he asked.

“You keep pushing people away” you sighed, shoving your hands into your coat pockets. “You can’t just keep rejecting everyone forever.”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because one day, someone’s going to make you regret it.”

Something flickered in Wonwoo’s eyes, something dark and unclear to you. “Maybe that already happened.”

Your breath hitched. You wanted to push him, to make him say more, but he was already turning away with his hands shoving into his pockets as he walked down the snow-covered pavement.

“Walk me home,” you said as you jogged to catch up.

He hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Fine.”

Both of you walked in silence for a while, and the only sound heard was the crunch of your boots on the snow. It wasn’t until you reached your apartment building that you finally turned to him.

“You know, Woo,” you murmured, searching his face, “you act like you don’t care, but I don’t think that’s true.”

He let out a short laugh, but there was no humour in it. “You think you know me so well, huh?” he challenged.

“I do” you responded.

His jaw tensed. “Then you should know why I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” you pressed as you stepped closer.

He exhaled sharply. “Why I can’t let myself want something I know I can’t have.”

Your heart began to pound. “And what is it you think you can’t have?”

Wonwoo’s eyes were locked onto yours, and for the first time, you saw past the coldness. There was something raw there, something aching that he was desperate to let out.

“You,” he finally admitted. And you barely had time to process the word before he was kissing you, closing the distance as he smashed his lips against your plump ones.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was desperate, years of tension and words he couldn’t say crashing together in one fierce moment. His hands cupped your face, while his fingers threaded into your hair as if he was afraid you might disappear.

When he finally pulled apart, both breathless, you whispered, “nice boys don’t kiss like that.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, “who told you I’m a nice boy?” he murmured, voice was hoarse.

“You’re my nice boy” you giggled.

“Only yours” and with that, he kissed you again, slow and soft this time.

Because for once in his life, Wonwoo decided he wasn’t going to be the cold-hearted rejector everyone knew him for.

Not with you.

Never with you.

“I love you Wonwoo” you confessed against his lips, and nothing made the young man’s heart feel as light as it did now.

“I love you too baby”

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@chriszgirl92

@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug

@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never

@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned

@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27

@funkenniffler

[gottencents]

My Humps - Winter

pairing. idol!winter x aespa!addmember!reader

synopsis. during a casual weverse live, winter stands up to grab something, unknowingly turning her back to y/n. y/n playfully “covers” their eyes but quickly sneaks a glance, which fans instantly catch—leading to chaos in the comments and a flustered reaction from both.

[Weverse Live Stream - Winter & Y/N]

The chat was buzzing with excitement as fans flooded into the live stream, excited to see both Winter and Y/N. The two idols sat comfortably on the couch, both laughing and chatting with the fans. Y/N was leaning back, a soft smile on her face as she read through the comments, while Winter was sitting upright, her attention divided between responding to fans and relaxing.

“Thank you for all your love, guys!” Winter smiled warmly at the screen. “You all are so sweet! Let’s keep reading your messages.” She looked at the screen for a moment, then turned to Y/N, nudging her with her shoulder playfully. “What do you think, Y/N? Should we answer a few more questions before we sign off?”

Y/N chuckled softly, glancing at Winter. “Yeah, of course. We can’t leave without giving them a little more time.”

As Winter settled back down, she suddenly stood up to grab something off the coffee table in front of them. Y/N watched her for a moment, looking around for the item Winter was reaching for. As Winter bent down to pick up the item, her back was now to Y/N, and her posture gave way to a view that sent Y/N’s heart racing—a perfect view of Winter’s curves.

Flustered, Y/N quickly raised her hand to cover her eyes, embarrassed by the accidental peek. “Uhh, nope! Not looking!” she stammered, her face going slightly red.

Winter turned to look over her shoulder, noticing Y/N’s reaction. She paused, giving Y/N a teasing look. “Are you hiding from me?” Winter chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were already used to being around me by now.”

Y/N, realizing how silly she must have looked, quickly tried to play it cool. “I… uh… no, I wasn’t hiding! Just, uh… making sure I wasn’t being too obvious.” She glanced at the screen nervously, her cheeks flushed. “I was just, you know, being polite!”

But when Y/N lowered her hand, the fans in the chat immediately took notice, their eyes going wide.

Chat:

gays4aespa: “Wait, why did Y/N cover her eyes though? 😳”

wiplash: “Y/N is hiding something!! 😏”

karinaismother: “I saw that! She was definitely looking. 😂”

summerintowinter: “Did Y/N just peek at Winter’s… 👀”

Y/N froze, realizing her mistake too late. She could feel the eyes of the fans through the screen. “Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, trying to avoid looking directly at the chat.

Winter, ever the tease, turned back to Y/N with a smirk. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Are you embarrassed?” she asked, clearly enjoying Y/N’s discomfort.

Y/N let out a small laugh, trying to hide her face in her hands. “I’m not embarrassed! I… I didn’t mean to stare, okay?”

Winter crossed her arms, still smiling. “You don’t have to hide it. I’m sure they all saw,” she said, motioning to the chat. “Looks like you got caught.”

The chat exploded with reactions, fans loving the playful banter between the two.

Chat:

#1aespashooter: “Winter caught Y/N red-handed! 😂”

y/nbraincell: “I can’t believe this is happening. Y/N, you’re so obvious! 😜”

WinterBaby: “Y/N totally checked out Winter, and Winter knows it. 😏”

Y/N sighed dramatically, throwing her head back. “Okay, okay. You got me. I wasn’t trying to hide it! It just… happened!” She looked at Winter, who was still standing in front of her, looking far too pleased with herself.

Winter leaned over slightly, a playful gleam in her eyes. “I didn’t know you were so shy, Y/N,” she teased. “You can stare all you want, you know.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Winter!” she protested, though her tone was more flustered than serious. “Stop making it worse!”

Winter only grinned, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she leaned back into the couch. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” she said, her voice lowering a bit with a teasing lilt. “I don’t mind. You can check me out anytime.”

The chat went wild at Winter’s bold comment, fans loving every second of the exchange between the two.

Chat:

asepamygay: “Wait, now Winter is encouraging Y/N? 😱”

winnersluvwinter: “THEY’RE FLIRTING, I CAN’T!! 😳”

My4Ever: “I’m loving this! Winter and Y/N are giving us all the feels! 😍”

Y/N laughed nervously, shaking her head. “Okay, okay, let’s get back to the questions before I embarrass myself further,” she said quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from the teasing.

Winter, still smiling, sat back down beside Y/N, nudging her playfully with her elbow. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she said softly, keeping her voice light.

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “Stop,” she said softly, a shy smile creeping onto her lips.

The fans in the chat were eating it up.

Chat:

polyforwiny/n: “Winter calling Y/N cute?! THEY’RE SO CUTE TOGETHER. 😭”

aespa2028: “Honestly, Y/N and Winter have the best chemistry”

Y/N and Winter shared a brief, quiet moment before Winter nudged Y/N again, causing her to laugh.

“Alright,” Y/N said, catching her breath. “No more distractions. We’re here for the fans, not to make a spectacle of myself.”

Winter grinned and raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But I think the fans liked it more than you think.”

As the live stream continued, the banter between Y/N and Winter carried on, and the fans couldn’t stop commenting on their chemistry. Despite the teasing, it was clear to everyone watching that there was a deep, playful connection between the two idols—one that only seemed to grow stronger the more they interacted.

[biancadoes1]

FAVE ANON HERE 🩶

I would like to start by saying how amazing it was to see Lukey Newts out and about last night looking 🔥 and rocking those emotional support curls 🥵. To be honest it was more than enough to make me look past anything else. Oh the curls 😍

But I do know that last night was a shock to the system for many. We went from not seeing Luke and Antonia interact with each other at all since the end of July to ALOT last night. They were popping everywhere. I saw so many extreme reactions and to be honest, we gotta be better guys. This is why I think it’s important to take a step back and look at everything as a big picture and use a few different lenses I listed below (and make sure you stick around for #4 because it’s the most important):

1. Seeing them last night doesnt negate everything that happened the last 7 months. Where have they been? Why hasn’t she posted him? Why did they spend the holidays apart? Why did he clean his SEO? So many questions with answers that don’t add up to a serious relationship.

2. This was not a relationship hard launch. If there was a launch plan, I 100% believe he would’ve “soft launched” in a way with pap pics getting caught on a date and in a natural setting. Or even something subtle on social media. They know how the fans perceive her and their “relationship” and they would not have just dropped a bombshell on eveyone. To top it off, out of all his SM posts today - none of them include any sight or mention of her. So what was the point of HL-ing?

3. I wanna start this one by saying I don’t think anyone in this situation should receive any hate for how we decided to perceive and accept things BUT I’m ngl I’m gonna have a lot of thoughts if L&A are together and those thoughts aren’t just aimed at Luke. Everyone has been complicit in the narrative that brought us here - Luke, Nic, Shondaland, Ryan, etc. They know what discussed online and they knew back in August how people were interpreting things so they’ve had months to set the record straight and launch any relationships. Polin is the B-ton moneymaker and that’s because of the fans. I refuse to believe all these people would be complicit in stringing along and alienating the fans. (And for the record - no matter how this plays out I will remain a fan of both because I love them both and I love Polin.)

4. MOST IMPORTANTLY:

Why are we so quick to jump to this relationship but we denounce Nic and Jake? You can say because Jake is gay (yes I believe this) but truly we have NO PROOF of that. He hasn’t said it. She hasn’t said it. We’re going fully off context clues. For all we know he could be bi, pan, or as straight as they come and they could be in the most blissfully happy relationship in the world. (Not true IMO but my point is that we don’t know anything beyond what is shown to us.) So let’s review the following:

Nic & Jake: have been to non professional events together and posted online with friends, have posted each other on Instagram, comment on each others posts, attend professional events together, and have been papped on “dates”

Luke & Antonia: caught kissing over a year ago, attended some professional events together, haven’t been seen together in 7 months, and like all insta posts in a suspiciously fast and consistent manner.

If you were to ask me I’d say Nic and Jake are the ones in a real relationship (if i knew nothing about the outside factors). So if we are willing to sit here and give Nic and Jake the benefit of the doubt and say it’s not real and wait it out then we should be able to do the same now with Luke and Antonia until we get more concrete evidence. Because truly last night was nothing different than what has been presented to us by Nic and Jake. The only difference is the internalized feelings and people have surrounding Antonia and her existence.

I stand by what I’ve always said - until Nic or Luke (or an official source on their behalf) say “boyfriend” or “girlfriend,” those terms do not apply.

What this fandom has taught me is that if I’m ever wrongfully accused of a crime, I do not want 95% of you on my jury because you all jump to conclusions so fast and don’t do any critical thinking.

Next time something happens and you find yourself about to spiral, take a tip from a wise friend of mine and give it 24 hours because I PROMISE you things will become clearer. 😉

And also congrats to Bridgerton S3 for being the Top Streamed Show of 2024. Nic and Luke did that and I’m so proud. 💛

And also - Luke and those curls man. 🥵🥵🥵

Fave anon has blessed us with her words once more.

Please take note.

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight: Bad Energy

Masterlist: Here

CW: language, mentions of baby stuff, pregnancy symptoms and one moment where Ethan is mean (not to you lol)

A/N: I feel like y’all are working your way to a good place and maybe y’all can be friends soon if nothing happens that could potentially get in the way?👀✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r

Summary: You and Harry have sort of an odd routine going and the two of you begin discussing baby names and rocking chairs✨

“Morning.” Harry softly greets you when you open your apartment door, you give him a small smile as you move out of his way so he can enter your apartment allowing him to head straight for your kitchen. You let a yawn escape you as turn so you can follow him after closing the door but Harry pauses right before he enters the archway of your kitchen and turns his head to look at you over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to-”

“Lock the door.” You finish for him with a tired sigh making Harry have to bite his bottom lip to keep the soft chuckle to himself. He enters the kitchen while you turn and quickly lock the door so you can join him and take your usual spot at your little table while he busies himself with cutting fruit and the random veggies.

It’s been almost two and a half weeks since Harry came over to your house far too early in the morning just to make you some green juice and since then he’s been coming over every other morning. The only difference is he now changes what he puts in the juice depending on how you’re feeling about certain fruits or vegetables and he also secretly adds a bit of protein powder because he knows you’re in more of a snacking stage and the odds of you sitting to eat a whole meal are slim. Most of the time the two of you engage in some simple small talk while you sit at the table and watch him cut things up, not getting too deep about anything minus Harry asking questions such as how you slept and if you’re feeling okay or if your ankles are still swollen.

“Do you want pine-”

“Oh please don’t even mention that evil fruit.” You say with a groan making Harry just nod as he puts the pineapple back in your fridge and grabs a mango instead. “I don’t understand why something that tastes so good has to hate me so much.” You pout as you place your chin in the palm of your hand while your other one rests on your bump as you lean over your small kitchen table.

“I’m guessing it’s still causing you some reflux issues then?” He asks as he looks around your fridge for the bag of spinach he just brought over the other day.

“Yes but sometimes I think it’s worth it but not today.” You explain with a yawn making Harry take a half step back from the fridge so he can turn his head and look at you with a raised brow. Normally you’re a bit sleepy when he comes over for your morning juice before you head off to work or he has to go run an errand or attend a meeting but he’s never seen you this tired before and it makes him a little concerned about how well you slept last night.

“How did sleep last night?” He questions as he hears you let out a small sigh as you close your eyes and give him a shrug.

“I don’t know if I actually got any sleep last night so I guess that would mean I slept horribly? No that sounds a bit dramatic. I’d just say I slept not very well.” Your mumbled rant like explanation makes Harry chuckle as he shakes his head and closes the doors to your fridge, he places the fruits and veggies for you juice on the counter near the cutting board and then turns so he’s fully facing you.

“Well come on then.” You slowly open your eyes just as Harry takes a few steps towards you with his hand out. “You can drink your juice in bed and take a nap afterwards or something. But you need rest. It’s important.” He tries to not sound bossy or rude because he knows the two of you are in a weird place right now and he doesn’t want to do or say anything that would make you upset enough to kick him back out to just being allowed in your hallway.

“You’re just trying to get me out of the room so you can put weird stuff in my juice.” You accuse him with a playful glare as you sit up and take his hand so he can help you get up from the chair.

“You caught me.” He jokes as he wraps his hand around your smaller one before taking a step back so you have room to stand in front of him. “I’m just trying to load your juice up with things you hate.” He adds as you let go of his hand and head out of the kitchen, he stands there for a moment not sure if you want him to follow you or not since really the only rooms he’s ever been inside of in your apartment are the living room and kitchen.

“Can you grab my water for me please? I left it on the counter.” You call over your shoulder as you make your way to your bedroom. Harry doesn’t hesitate as he turns and grabs your green and pink water bottle off the counter and walks out of the kitchen into the living room.

He catches a glimpse of you just before you enter your bedroom at the end of the hallway and for some reason he feels nervous as he stands there with your water bottle in his hand. For a moment he worries that you’re only being this relaxed about him entering your bedroom because you’re exhausted and don’t really know what you’re doing or saying. But then again he knows you well enough by now to know you are usually always the one who tries to be polite and civil out of the two of you, it’s usually him that messes it up with his unkind words or actions. So he just shakes off his nerves and heads down the hallway to leads to your bedroom, he can’t help but pause at the door on his right that he knows is your spare bedroom because you told him one morning how you’re happy you splurged for the two bedroom unit when you moved in so the twins won’t have to share a room with you.

When you get to your bed you look over your shoulder and when you don’t see or hear Harry you quirk a brow as you turn and take a few steps towards your bedroom door. You poke your head out and you can’t help but smile when you see him standing in front of the twin’s room, you take a few more steps so your about halfway between where he’s standing and your bedroom.

“You can look inside if you want.” Your voice being so close to him makes him jump a bit causing the ice in your water to clink against the metal sides of your bottle.

“Oh uhm I don’t-”

“You don’t what? Want to see where your children will be sleeping and playing while they’re with me? That’s rude.”

“Well when you put it like that then okay yeah I’ll take a look.” You chuckle as you reach for your water bottle so you can take it from him, Harry chews on his bottom lip as he turns to look at you and when you just give him a reassuring nod as you take a sip of your water he places a hand on the doorknob and twists it open.

Harry feels his heart beat faster as he takes a step inside the room, he obviously knows that you’re carrying twins meaning two babies but seeing two cribs set up really seems to make it feel all the more real for him. He steps further inside the room and places a hand on one of the cribs as he looks around the room. The walls are a soft white and to no surprise you’ve hung up a little bookshelf in the corner that has a few books already on it, the cribs are also white and when he looks down he sees you picked out matching sheets for them that have little story book animals on them such as Pooh Bear and Petter Rabbit.

“It’s not done yet but sometimes when I can’t sleep or I’m restless I come in here and-”

“Did you put these together yourself?” He asks as you walk over to the dresser on the opposite side of the wall the cribs are on.

“I did yeah.” You answer as you turn and look at him, his eyes are a little wide and you know he wants to say something about how that couldn’t have been good for your back or your ankles. “It wasn’t very hard and it didn’t take long.” You explain as you place a hand over your very obvious baby bump, giving it a soothing rub as you walk over to the bookshelf.

“I haven’t uh-I haven’t gotten cribs or really anything yet.” He informs you as he runs his hand that’s not gripping the side of the crib through his hair as all of a sudden a feeling of being unprepared and overwhelmed with things he needs to get begins to hit him like a tidal wave.

“That’s fine Harry these were just on sale so I grabbed them. You have plenty of time to-”

“What if they come early and I don’t have anything still? Or what if they hate the cribs I pick and never want to sleep in them or-” A soft hand landing on top of his that’s gripping the crib makes him stop his rambling. He blinks a few times as he tries to calm his breathing down before he looks over at you and sees you giving him a small yet comforting smile.

“They’ll like whatever you pick Harry because you’re their dad and they’ll know you picked it just for them. Now I’m sure there’s going to be days and nights they don’t want to sleep but it won’t have anything to do with the cribs you get them.” You do your best to reassure him and ease him away from the edge of the small anxiety attack you know he is mere moments away from having.

“Would you uhm maybe want to help pick some things out for them?” He knows he could ask his mom or sister to help him but honestly for some reason he feels like picking the furniture for his nursery would be a good experience for the two of you to have.

“Sure oh actually your mom invited me shopping tomorrow she wants me to help her pick some crib sheets so would you want to just join us for that and we can look at cribs and stuff as well?” You feel a tinge of nervousness as you tell him about the plans you made with his mom, not sure if he is aware that she reaches out to you to see how you’re doing and even comes over for the occasional cup of tea.

“She told me about the two of you having plans tomorrow.” You let out a sigh of relief as you move your hand off of his and place it back on your bump. “Are you sure you would be okay with me joining you? I don’t want to get in the way.”

“She’s your mom Harry so of course I don’t mind you joining us.” Harry watches you closely as you speak so see if he can find any hints that you’re lying just to save yourself from hurting his feelings. But when you just stare at him for a few moments before taking another sip of your water he knows you’re being honest, you really don’t care if he comes with the two of you tomorrow and oddly enough he doesn’t know how to feel about the fact he’s going to be shopping for his twins with their mother and his mother.

“Okay I’ll uhm call her later to set up the details.” You just nod as you turn and head for the door while Harry still stands with a hand on the crib closest to it. “I’ll uhm go-go get started on your juice.” He fumbles over his words as he finally releases his grip on the wooden frame of the crib and turns around so he can see you standing in the doorway with your back towards him.

“Okay but don’t try to sneak any carrots into it this time or I’ll probably start crying.” You warn as you take a step into the hallway.

“Carrots are good for-”

“I don’t care what they are good for Harry they ruin the juice and make it a disgusting color.”

“The juice is already a gross color? It’s green.”

“Says the man with big dumb green eyes and green shorts on?” To that Harry decides to ignore your comments about his eyes and takes a moment to look down at his outfit, having forgotten he came here from the gym so he is in fact wearing green athletic shorts and a gray tank top with his neon colored running shoes.

“Just go lay down and I’ll bring you your carrot free juice okay?” You give him a smug smile as he stands at the end of your hallway near the living room with a hand on his hip while you stand in your bedroom doorway with your water bottle in one hand and the other also on your hip.

“Okay.” Harry rolls his eyes at how happy you sound all because he agreed to not add any carrots to your juice, he watches as you turn and enter your bedroom and waits a few moments till he hears the sound of your water bottle being placed on your nightstand before he turns to go to the kitchen.

“Oh and Paris is in the living room!” You shout as you fold your covers back so you can climb into bed, wanting to give Harry a heads up on the orange cat’s whereabouts since he still doesn’t seem to like Harry therefor thinking it’s okay to still use his ankles as little chew toys.

As if on queue Harry hears the all too familiar sound of a bell jingling from behind him just as he begins to cut up the mango that he decide would be a good substitute for the pineapple in your juice. He freezes the moment he feels the soft hair and slightly pointy whiskers rub against the back of his calf, Paris’s go too move before he sinks his teeth into the flesh right above Harry’s ankle bone. Harry takes a deep breath in preparation for the pain he knows he’s about to endure and sure enough maybe two seconds later he feels Paris bite down on his ankle as he starts to purr while Harry releases his breath and lets out a groan.

“Fuck sake Paris how long are we gonna be doing this mate? I’ve been here how many times now and you still don’t like me? I’m making your mom homemade green juice for Christ sake what else do you want from me?” Harry rambles on as he looks down at the orange cat who is just sitting there staring at him all innocently as if he didn’t just make a meal out of his poor ankle.

“One day you’re going to like me. I just know it.” Paris tilts his head to the side and looks up at Harry for a brief moment before he decides he’s done in the kitchen and walks off leaving Harry standing there with a half cut up mango in one hand and a knife in the other.

Harry isn’t sure if he’s dreaming or not, because surely there’s no way you actually said what he just heard come out of your mouth.

“I’m serious.” Your simple statement answers his question as you cross your arms over your chest and stare at him with a very stern look in your eyes that he’s never seen before, granted he hasn’t been around you for very long but still he’s never seen you look so serious.

“It’s a rocking chair how can it be haunted?” He wonders as he looks at the wooden chair in question that’s currently sitting in between the two of you.

The two of you are in the middle of a antique shop looking for some things to go on the wall in your nursery and also to see if they have any baby furniture that could potentially go in the nursery at Harry’s house. While it upset you a bit it’s no surprise to Harry that his mom suddenly “wasn’t feeling well” as soon as she found out you had invited Harry to tag along on today’s shopping trip, he knows very well she’s fine at home on her couch watching her shows and researching things for her garden. And while normally Harry would be annoyed at her subtle ways of trying to interfere in his personal life he’s thankful his mom isn’t here to witness him look absolutely lost on why the mother of his children thinks used rocking chairs can be haunted and refuses to buy one.

“Not haunted but it could hold bad energy from the last person who used it.” You explain for the second time as you scrunch your nose up while looking at the chair. “What if the last person who sat in that chair was a weirdo? Or was a serial killer?” Harry rolls his eyes at your ridiculous reasoning for why the chair could have bad energy.

“Oh come on what are the odds Ted Bundy used to rock his kids to sleep in this rocking chair.” Harry playfully argues as he points to the chair while you drop your hands from your chest so you can reach over and smack Harry’s arm with an annoyed huff making him glare at you.

“Why would you say that? Now we really aren’t getting it you asshole.” You snap as you give his arm one more smack before turning around and heading further down the aisle of old vintage looking furniture. Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand over his face because it’s only been half an hour since the two of you started this shopping trip and at this rate he’s not sure if the two of you will still be on the decently good terms you’ve been on the past few weeks by the time it’s over.

“Are you really mad? I know you’re more emotional than normal right now but it’s just a rocking chair and it doesn’t have to go in your house it can go in mine.” He tries to reason with you as he follows behind you down the aisle, he hears you let out a scoff at he mention of you being emotional and he instantly knows that wasn’t the correct thing to say.

“It’s not just a rocking chair Harry.” You quickly turn around to face him making him take a step back so he’s out of reach making you unable to smack him just incase you get the itch to do so again. “It’s where you put your babies to sleep while singing a lullaby and where you soothe them when they are upset and-and where you sit and read to them before bed and I just don’t want one that someone has already had all those special moments in. Even if it’s not going in my house I know my babies will still be sitting in it with you and I just-”

“Okay okay we can get you a brand new chair that no one has ever sat in just-just stop crying.” Harry’s words are rushed as he takes a small step towards you so he can place his hands on your shoulders, you didn’t even realize you were crying until you finally feel a few tears roll down your cheeks. You sniffle a few times as Harry bends his knees so he can be eye level with you. “I promise you will get whatever rocking chair you want. Just please stop crying.” He’s practically begging you at this point and giving your shoulders some gentle squeezes as you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan

“Oh sorry am I embarrassing you?” Your voice is a mixture of harsh and watery making Harry let out a sigh as he stands up and drops his hands from your shoulders. “Because news flash Harry pregnant people cry a lot okay?” He doesn’t want to start a fight with you so he just stands there and lets you take your frustration out on him because it was his poor choice of words that caused this reaction from you in the first place. “It’s not like I can control it either. I just cry all the time over the stupidest stuff.”

“I just don’t like seeing you cry.” You almost don’t hear his admission as he looks down at his feet while rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to make you upset I didn’t know you uhm had such strong feelings about rocking chairs that’s all.” He explains as he looks up at you making you let out a huff as your arms fall to your sides.

“It’s okay.” You tell him as you adjust the strap to your purse, Harry watches as you make a face of slight discomfort and he can’t even stop himself before he’s reaching over and grabbing the strap, he raises an eyebrow as his silent way of asking if this is okay and when you just let the strap of your bag fall into his hands he smiles as he takes your giant purse and puts the strap over his shoulder.

“I read somewhere that most people hyper fixate on one thing during their pregnancies and I just think mine has been the nursery. Mainly the furniture in it. So that’s why I uh had my-my little moment about the rocking chair.” You tell him as a way to help him get a better understanding on what’s going on in your mind, since you know having a breakdown in the middle of a store isn’t ideal especially for him. Mainly because anyone within a few feet of the two of you would be able to tell instantly who he is thanks to the short sleeves of his worn out Rolling Stones shirt letting his more recognizable tattoos be on display.

“Gemma’s was the car seat. She read every single safety review on hundreds of car seats and I swear she still doesn’t even like the one she uses everyday.” You smile as Harry talks about his sister, doing his best to help make you feel like he really does get it and that you being very particular about what you want in the twins nursery is totally normal.

“Oh speaking of Gemma I was thinking of Nora if one of them is a girl.” Harry feels as if his feet all of a sudden don’t know how to work as you turn around to begin heading down the aisle, tossing out a baby name as if it’s just a suggestion on what the two of you should eat for dinner and not a possible name for one of your children. “And I like Anne as a middle name and I know it’s her middle name and obviously it’s your mother’s name so I thought it would be cute?” You add having no clue Harry is still frozen in place a few paces behind you.

“Uhm-uh you’ve been thinking of-of names already?” He asks as he quickly rushes to catch up to you before you turn to head down another aisle that has framed art.

“Yeah? I’ve been thinking of names since I found out I was pregnant but I’ve just now narrowed the girl name down to that one.”

“And it’s Nora?”

“Yes I like Nora.”

“Nora is nice. I think I like it.”

“I’m glad.”

“So Nora as in Jones?”

“Uh more like Roberts.”

“And who’s that?” You stop mid step and turn to face Harry who has a very curious expression on his face as he flips through a bin of floral themed art.

“Nora Roberts is an author.” You answer making Harry just nod as a small smirk forms on his face.

“Should’ve known.” You roll your eyes as he looks over at you. “Of course you want to name our daughter after an author while I want to name her after a musician.”

“Well at least both Noras are talented.”

“You’re missing the most important part of this whole thing.”

“And that would be?”

“We just agreed on something.” The grin he gives you leaves you no choice but to smile back. “Nora Anne Styles? Or did you want them to have your last name? I’m fine with hyphenating it if you-”

“Styles is fine.” Harry feels hit with an odd swirl of emotions at your answer, knowing that you want the twins to have his last name makes him have a sense of pride but also makes him feel slightly nervous that one day they might hate having the same name as him. “I haven’t thought about boy names yet.” You tell him before you turn to look at a bin that has framed posters.

“Uhm how do you feel about Edward?”

“Edgar? Like Allen Poe?”

“Uh no I uhm said Edward not Edgar.”

“Oh sorry. Edward-Edward what?”

“James?”

“Edward James Styles.” You whisper it at first making Harry nervously rub his lips together as he listens to you repeat the name a few more times before nodding. “Okay yeah I like it.” You say with a smile as you place both hands on your bump before you turn to face him.

“Wow we are two for two.”

“Better stop before we break our streak or you even worst you make me cry.” Harry rolls his eyes as you take a step towards him while holding a hand out. He doesn’t know what you want his hand for but he turns so he’s facing you and gives it to you anyway with a quirked brow. “Can you feel that?” You ask as you place his hand on the side of your bump, he’s about to shake his head no when all of a sudden he feels like tiniest something press against his palm.

“Is-is that one of them?” You just nod as Harry stares down at his hand that’s pressed firmly against your bump. You watch his eyes go from wide and shocked to soft and glossed over so you place a hand over his and give it a small pat just as he lets out his first sniffle.

“Figured it was your turn to cry in public.” You joke as he blinks a few times trying to stop the tears from actually falling and rolling down his face.

“Thanks.” He says with a wet chuckle as you move his hand to the other side of your bump so he can feel another tiny little movement.

“I think they are stretching or something.” You explain as Harry just stares at his hand with a look of pure amazement. “They’ve been extra active today though.”

“I bet it’s because of the carrots I snuck in your juice this morning.”

The laugh you let out has Harry imagining for a moment this is what it would be like if the two of you weren’t just a few levels above being complete strangers who are having kids together and instead you were just two people happily shopping for nursery decor for their twins. It’s moments like this that he desperately wishes he could remember more about the night he met you because it’s glimpses of you like this, laughing at a stupid joke he said that have him feeling like you are so easy to be around and he’s sure that’s how he felt about you that night as well. But the harsh reality that Harry is very aware of is moments like this are rare for the two of you, he’s already made you cry today so he just tries to live in this moment that has him feeling a comforting sense of happiness as long as he can because sooner or later he knows it’s going to come to an end.

You let out a groan as you stretch your legs on your couch letting your sock covered feet land in Ethan’s lap which makes him just roll his eyes when he looks down and sees you wiggling your toes at him. He turns to look at you and lets out a laugh when you poke your bottom lip out and continue to wiggle your toes, a combination you know he can’t resist. Ethan lets out a huff as he places his phone down on the table next to the couch so he can use both hands to gently rub your slightly swollen ankles.

“You’re so lucky I love you because I usually never touch feet for free.” He states making you laugh as you get comfortable and go back to reading one of the pregnancy books Anne gave you the last time she came over. “Oh so how was the shopping trip the other day? Didn’t see you two on the news and you never called me to bail you out of jail so that must mean it went well?” He asks with a teasing tone that makes you roll your eyes as you flip a page in your book.

“It did go well actually I got a few new books for the twin’s bookshelf.” You begin as you lower your book a bit so you can see Ethan’s face over the top of it. “We picked baby names and-”

“Excuse me?” His eyes are wide and his hands momentarily stop rubbing your ankles as he snaps his head in your direction. “You did what now?”

“We sort of agreed on two baby names. I told him the one I’ve been thinking about for a girl-”

“Nora Anne?”

“Yes and he liked it but he thought it was because of Nora Jones.”

“Well yeah you can’t expect Mr. Asshole to know who Nora Roberts is.” You glare at Ethan for a moment making him just shrug because he doesn’t get what he did wrong so you just continue on explaining the baby names.

“But then he had an idea for a boy name and it’s uhm well it’s Edward James St-”

“James? As in Ethan James your super attractive young neighbor?” He all but shouts as he stares at you with an excited grin on his face and you just nod and laugh because you knew he would react this way to finding out the middle name Harry picked unknowingly wanting to give his son just so happens to belong to the very man he can’t stand.

“Exactly.”

“Weird way to ask me to be their godfather but I accept.” He says with a shrug as he goes back to focusing on rubbing your ankles.

“Don’t get crazy Ethan no one has asked you to be anyone’s godfather.” You explain with a laugh making him let out a dramatic sigh.

“Here I am rubbing your feet and ankles and you don’t even think I’m godfather material? That’s just rude.” You playfully glare at him when he turns his head to look at you with a smile. “But really I’m glad it’s going well with him I know you’ve been through some shit with that asshole so I’m happy that he seems to be making an effort to do things that are actually nice and helpful.” You just nod as you try to focus on the page you’re reading in your book.

“Yeah it’s been-”

“I saw photos of him out with another girl last night.” You drop your book to your lap as Ethan lets out a sigh of relief, feeling ten times lighter now that he’s spilled the beans about something he wasn’t sure he was going to tell you about or not but he figures you deserve to know the whereabouts of the father of your children.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw photos of Harry out with some chick in a god awful tacky green silk dress with yellow-”

“Ethan.”

“Right sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair as he turns his body a bit so he is facing you, but makes sure your feet are still comfortably resting in his lap. “He was out at some club with her and they left hand in hand and got into his car and the only reason I known it was his car is because I recognized the driver.”

“Is that all?” Ethan raises an eyebrow at your question because you’re handling this rather differently than he expected.

“Uh yeah-yeah that’s all.”

“That’s okay.” You say with a slow nod before you grab your book. “He’s single he can be seen with whoever he wants.” You explain as you turn to the page you were just on, ignoring the look of confusion on Ethan’s face and the way your heart feels like it just dropped to the pit of your stomach.

“It’s okay if it’s not okay you know that right? He’s the father of your babies and it’s perfectly normal to feel attached to him in a way that no one will ever understand.” You can’t look at Ethan as he speaks or you’ll lose it so he just gives your feet a little squeeze before he reaches over and grabs the book out of your hands. “Look at me.” He says as he tosses your book onto your coffee table, you slowly look from your hands that are resting on your bump over to his face and then finally you meet his stare.

“He told me he had plans with his mom last night. That’s why he couldn’t come over to help put up the curtains I got for the nursery but he said he’d do it the next time he’s here to make my juice.” Ethan lets out a sigh as he watches your eyes get glossy as you let him in on a piece of information that you weren’t going to share with him because it seemed unimportant until now.

“God this wouldn’t be happening if you would’ve went with Zayn for your baby daddy.” His voice is serious but you know he’s joking as he reaches for one of your hands.

“Zayn wasn’t an option.” You explain with a sniffle as you try to stop the tears from falling with a few blinks.

“That’s a shame because that man is-”

“Was she pretty?” You mumble as you look away from Ethan and down at his hand that’s got a firm hold of yours as it rests on your bump. You don’t know why you asked because you know it doesn’t matter but you can’t help but be curious.

“Fuck no. She was hideous.” He watches the corners of your mouth twitch as you fight off a smile. “You’re the hottest woman that man has ever been with. Hands down.”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t cry.”

“No I’m not.” He argues as he gives your hand a squeeze. “I’m saying it so you’ll make me the godfather.” He smiles at the sound of your laughter even if it’s a littler watery sounding it’s better than the sound of you bawling your eyes out, that’s one sound he is sick of hearing from you. “I love you. You’re going to be okay.” You let out a sigh as you give his hand a squeeze making him smile.

“Thank you. I love you too.” With that Ethan lets go of your hand so he can lean over and grab your book off the coffee table and hand it back to you. The two of you silently deciding that you’ve had your fill of gossip for the evening so he picks up his phone with one hand and scrolls his social media pages while his other lazily rubs at your ankles. While you try to focus on the words on the page of your book you can’t help but let your mind wonder to the reasons why Harry would lie to you and if you should even bring it up to him. But as you get comfortable on the couch and Ethan lets out a soft sigh you decide that you’ll just deal with Harry later and enjoy your time with one of your bestfriends, refusing to let the man with the big dumb green eyes ruin anymore of your evening.

[plaidcowboy]

taking care of 𓂃 rafe cameron while he’s spiraling

⟳⠀ a little inebriated rafe ⟳⠀after an argument with ward

⊹ you blinked into the open space of your room, slowly collecting your coherence as you listened to the voice over the phone. it took a second to realize you were hearing rafe mumbling, not sounding like himself. you quickly jolted up in bed at his quiet, but frantic words.

“i just don’t get why everything i do goes unnoticed.. unappreciated. i saved him. she didn’t do anything but run off and betray us. i got the cross. i killed that sheriff for him. me, rafe.. i don’t understand what happened with us..”

it broke your heart to hear his voice crack. you nursed your phone against your cheek, letting him get everything out. where was he? did his words sound partially slurred or was that your still half asleep mind? but you were so glad he called you in a moment this vulnerable. after months of being with rafe, he had a habit of keeping his feelings in and not letting you into his mind. despite this, you constantly told him you were always there if he needed an outlet.

you heard a dry chuckle across the line. “he even tried to blame you. my precious girl.. does he know how much i didn’t know i needed you? he can’t even begin to understand the love we share. he doesn’t have someone to take care of him like you do with me. he crossed the line when he mentioned you.. i just lost it..”

you placed a hand over your mouth, letting his words and current state settle in. you couldn’t let yourself get focused on ward’s thoughts of you. you knew he wasn’t a good man. you knew he didn’t deserve rafe’s respect. after months of knowing this, and knowing the fights he and rafe got into, never was it like this. this truly was breaking you.

you softly sniffled, not realizing you were getting worked up. “it’s okay, baby. it’s okay to let out that frustration. i’m so proud of you for letting yourself feel it. i’m even prouder you called me. that’s so good, rafe.”

you heard him breathing over the line, not speaking for a second. you took this opportunity to find out his whereabouts.

“um.. do you know where you are right now? can you see any signs?” you got up, walking to your closet to throw on a jacket and slip on a pair of shoes, waiting for him to answer.

it was another second of silence before he responded quietly, prompting you to listen closer. “i needed to hear your voice. i know you told me you’d be an outlet, but i didn’t think i’d have to use that outlet, but i needed it..”

you paused after grabbing your keys, listening intently, clinging on to his every word.

“..i needed to hear you. that makes everything better. i can’t see you right now, and i can’t let you see me, but i needed to feel you somehow.”

you slightly panicked at rafe telling you, you couldn’t see him. “rafe, i already see you even if i physically can’t. but i would really like to see you. do you think you could tell me where you are, handsome?” you didn’t let your voice portray your desperation too much. you didn’t want to let him know he was worrying you. then, he really wouldn’t let you go near him. not if he knew he was making you scared.

you could hear chatter grow louder around him as he answered. “i..” he pushed out a heavy sigh. “..i’m not disappointing you, am i? because i.. i won’t tell you if you’re disappointed in me right now. i’ll fix it.. i’ll fix myself and give you time to think.. i can’t have you upset with me..” he voice broke off softly at the end.

you were out of your room and outside, heading towards your car as he finished his sentence. “rafe, i think it’s impossible for me to feel anything diminishing about you. that feeling doesn’t exist inside of me. there is nothing, rafe, you could do or say that would make me view you differently from the caring and gentle hearted man you are.”

you were pressing on the gas, making your way toward where you knew rafe was without him having to say it.

this time it was him that sniffled, and you couldn’t grip the wheel tighter at the sound. he affirmed your thought of his location after a beat of still silence from his side.

“this might be impossible for rafe cameron, but can you please stay still?” you softly chuckled, attempting to lighten the tone, panic easing from you now that you were making your towards him.

“yeah, i’ll try” was his muttered response.

you were pulling up to the restaurant a few minutes later, rushing out of your car and looking around for rafe.

it wasn’t long before you spotted him outside at a high rise table, his head hanging slighty over his arms that were pressed atop of the table. standing tall, and standing oddly still. doubt didn’t dawn on you that rafe would listen, but him literally holding himself still was something you weren’t expecting. you softly shook your head, walking up to him.

he saw you from his peripheral, but sensed you before he actually knew you were approaching. turning his head, his expression couldn’t seem to turn softer and his posture more relaxed.

his face started to crumble, and you quickly reached around him to pull him into a hug, tugging his head down to rest on your shoulder.

you couldn’t feel the clawing and gripping of his hands as he tried to hold you inhumanly closer. only relief that he was in your arms now, and not afar over the phone.

“i’m sorry..” he softly uttered into your top. “..i’m sorry you have to see me like this.. but it’s messed up that i don’t care. i needed to feel you, to touch you, even if it meant you seeing me this way..”

you dug your face into his side, willing your eyes to not produce the tears you felt coming on.

“i can’t.. i won’t let go. you’re gonna leave if i let go, and you can’t leave me. you can’t..”

he spoke so softly you knew it was a thought that he didn’t mean to say out loud.

you reared back, pulling up his head to face you. the sorrow in his eyes felt like the last tug at your heart to finally pull it from its strings.

“i’m never letting go, so you can’t.”

rafe’s arms came down, his hands both cupping over one of your hands. you took it as the sign rafe was ready to leave. was ready to only be near you.

you turned, walking back towards your car, feeling his hands tighten. you went to open the passenger side for rafe when he pulled you back, halting you.

you turned towards him to ask what was wrong when he pulled the back door open instead. he nodded his head into the opening, gesturing for you to climb in first. you did so, not once letting his hands slip from your one. rafe was right behind you, closing the door behind him.

you laid your legs out, letting him settle between them and rest himself against you. he was holding you up to your promise of never letting him go.

you wrapped your arms around him, listening to his breathing. he had done so much talking, it was time for you to return it.

“you’re perfect to me. for me. if no one else can see your worth, they’re not worth your time, rafe. there’s nothing for you to be sorry for. i am so, so glad you called me. it doesn’t hurt seeing you like this as much as it would hurt to know you were going through this alone. there’s nowhere i would rather be than right here with you.”

rafe settled closer into you, always needing to be so close to you it seemed as if you shared the same skin.

“i don’t need anyone but you. i only need you seeing me and really knowing me.. can you just hold me for right now? please.”

as if you would ever deny him. “of course. whatever you need.”

it was a second before you heard him mutter something, not aware he was responding to what you said.

“just you.”

ϧ𝑒ׅ ࣪

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 4

I may have girl bossed a bit too close to the sun and finished Chapter 5 and 6 too- I'm not quite happy with those so I'll go through them again before posting Ch5 😅

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 4 >>next

Well, we all knew they would never have time for you. They never do until it’s too late. That’s why funerals are for the living to say goodbye, to mourn, to let go of the guilt. It still hurt… It hurt so much to be brushed off by Alfred, to be ignored by Bruce, to be yelled at by Dick. You couldn’t even think of Jason without tearing up, and Tim was just straight-up mean. But at least he was honest. Cassandra and Barbara’s avoidance hurt the most since they were your only female interaction in years.

Everything you tried to do to prove yourself was, at best, ignored, at worst, compared to someone else and diminished. You had nothing in common with Richard besides knowing a few of the same bands. But that wasn’t enough to raise his interest in interacting with you. Every time he looked at you it was like he was angry and sad at the same time.

Jason and you were so similar. Finally, someone you could relate to, who knew how life on the streets was, how terrifying the big space of the Wayne residence was compared to the lives you once had. And yet he was more interested in Dick, no matter how rude the oldest boy was. You couldn’t blame him, you also wanted Richard’s attention. Your heart felt like it was rolled through needles and lemon juice when Jason got everything you wanted just for you to watch him get buried. Dick was angry when Jason first showed up, jealous, but by the time Jason grew up he was just as angry. You hoped that wouldn’t happen to you.

You were a great student, thriving in your classes and finishing middle school earlier than others, what else were you supposed to do when you had no friends? Of course, that was nothing to Tim’s brilliance. And every time you tried to bond with him on that or show him your achievements it would be a tired “I don’t have time for you.” or an uninterested “I achieved that when I was younger than you.”

Barbara is everything you wanted to be when older, smart, beautiful, had friends and the family's attention. It hurt so much to see her get along with Cassandra but not you, never you. And Cassandra… You tried. You tried to befriend her without overwhelming her, but since the first introduction, she had started ignoring you too, downright leaving the room if you entered it. Bruce went to all her recitals, but he never had time for your galleries or competitions. You stopped asking everyone to come when you found the invites and pamphlets balled up and thrown in the trash bins.

By the time Duke and Stephanie came around you had given up, what use was it? It’ll be another rejection, so you just took care of the garden and did more art, your room overflowing with it. You spent at least half of the monthly allowance Bruce gave, and yet you could still be a millionaire.

You gave up on the Waynes, only speaking to them if they spoke to you. You were done with them, with their secrets, with how they would talk between each other in whispers and then get quiet when you stepped into the room. They’d always look at you like you were a stranger, an enemy. And perhaps you were. So, fuck them. Fuck the boys, fuck the girls, and fuck Bruce and Alfred too.

Sneaking out was the best thing you have done for yourself- sure it was a long way from the Manor to the city and back, but it was all worth it. It was worth it to see the other street kids, to hear their stories, to hang out with the homeless and the girls on their smoke break, it was worth everything when you found your mom’s grave. It was nice, it felt like home.

Was it dangerous? Yes. But as long as you stuck to Red Hood’s territory you were fine, his rule of keeping kids safe seemed to also apply to you. He was nice, even if he never spoke around you beyond hums and grunts, but you enjoyed how gentle he was with the other kid, how he ruffled your hair, and how he helped you clean your mom’s grave. He was nice, and surprisingly so were most other rogues.

Ivy enjoyed helping you with tips for the garden, some of the flowers you grew there on every 13th of the month were made into bouquets for her, your mom’s grave, and Jason’s too. Two-face was surprisingly nice about your inquiry of the law and Penguin enjoyed helping you with your business classes. The Riddler made you want to smash your head against a wall most of the time, but boy was he good with philosophy.

You avoided the Joker like the plague. You couldn’t find it in you to care for him when Harley reminded you so much of your mom when she came with a black eye or busted lip asking if you could take care of Bud and Lou for a jiffy. You could never say no to her.

If Red Hood wasn’t keeping an eye on you, it was Bane or Killer Croc, both men letting you climb and swing from them like a spider. They enjoyed seeing a kid not tremble in fear at the sight of them, despite whatever they may tell you. Mr. Freeze was nice too, lonely like you. Sad you simply couldn’t take the cold for long no matter how many layers you put on.

You loved them all to a degree, but Catwoman always made you feel like her kid, not just a kid. Sometimes you felt guilty for wanting to call her mom, you had a mom. But she made you feel all soft and mushy, calling you her kit, crying with you when you first heard her call you that. She thought she had hurt you, oh, how panicked she was. But her hug was so warm, so loving once she found out that no one had called you their kid in so long.  You wish she would steal you away, she does too, but she made a deal with Red Hood. Selina wishes she had just taken you and moved across the country, everyone be damned.

Unknowingly, you had created the garden to hold flowers that reminded you of all of them, even the Waynes. You couldn’t bring yourself to kill their flowers, to make bouquets of them or sell them- you just didn’t have it in you. So, you just kept on growing them, talking to them, and telling those flowers what your alleged family would never listen to. And then Bruce ruined it all.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, exhaustion or paranoia, maybe both? But all Bruce knew he was seeing is his mom’s garden flourishing after years of it being neglected, of Alfred overlooking it at Bruce’s request to focus on what rooms were being used inside the manor instead. He didn’t think twice about grabbing the pesticide designed for Poison Ivy, didn’t think about asking Alfred, about asking the kids, he just reacted.

Bruce was drinking his guilt away in his office, forehead pressed against his desk as one hand held a whiskey glass and the other gripped at his hair. He had never seen his youngest that angry, crying so much-… He wasn’t sure when the last time he saw her smile or hang around the family was.

“What have you done?!” He remembers how pained and angry you sounded as he killed the last flower, his flower. He remembers how he acted, how annoyance rose in him as he explained, and he remembers how his heart fell out of his ass when you said that you took care of the garden and that you spent years building it.

His face remained unmoving as his hands shook, as his jaw clenched, as he could feel the sky crash on his head in tempo with your tears falling down your cheeks. He tried to justify himself, come up with a lie, something that would make him feel less guilty, but- “Yeah?! Well, maybe you would have known if you actually spared a glance in my direction from time to time- You should have left me in an orphanage, no- it should have been you instead of mom!”

You were hurt, you didn’t mean it, he was sure. Even after you went into the manor, crying your heart out, Bruce still sat there. He wasn’t sure what he could do, the pesticide ruined the soil, he didn’t even remember what flowers he saw. The man just went into his daytime office, grabbed his father's liquor, and drank. Bruce knew he should go and apologize and try to talk to you. He poured himself another full glass, instead. Tonight, Batman will be sleeping, and tomorrow Bruce will raise your allowance. If he remembers.

You knew to some degree Bruce didn’t like you, but for him to not even notice that you poured your blood and sweat into that garden when Alfred and even Cassandra did felt like a punch to the gut. You were a good kid, you tried your best to be, so why was this the hand you were dealt? Did he honestly think the flowers in the manor were bought by Alfred? The old man was so busy the last thing on his mind was to buy flowers for the house.

You couldn’t believe him, you could only cry for the lost plants, for one of the three things that brought you happiness. You curled into a ball under the warm duvet, crying into your knees until you could not anymore. The shadows did their best to soothe you, lulling you to sleep as the exhaustion of crying helped them.

Dreams didn’t come easy to you, sure, you had the usual nightmare, but calm dreams were a rare occasion. And this one felt so nice as you drifted in the endless dark space, two figures you couldn’t quite make out helping you stay afloat as they talked… chanted? You weren’t sure. It sounded like Latin, but it also didn’t. No matter, it was soothing, warm, it was what you needed.

You felt light as a feather. You felt free and- you hit your head… The pain not only confuses you but also wakes you up, the throbbing on the side of your head making you groan. Your tired eyes looked around trying to figure out what you hit as your hand rubbed the sore spot.

Maybe you were still dreaming. You must still be dreaming. Panic set into your veins- there was no way this was actually happening, it couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be a meta- Batman hated metas and he worked for your- he worked for Bruce- You were fucked.

It didn’t matter that as soon as it happened and you panicked your body hit the floor so hard it rattled your nightstand, making a framed picture fall and break, it didn’t matter that you didn’t register the pain, or notice that you broke the floorboard where you hid all your diaries and drawings you made for the family- all your brain knew is that you should leave before Batman throws you in Arkham or GSP.

So that’s what you did. You grabbed your sports bag that you used for art supplies, stuffed it with some clothes, your laptop, phone, the chargers, took a few sketchbooks and pens, and the card with Bruce’s money. Not like he’ll notice, he didn’t notice that you spent thousands every other week at a fast-food joint for the homeless and street kids, didn’t notice that you spent millions every other year at retail stores for the same people, he didn’t notice the donations. He was as blind as a bat.

“Leap of faith” is what Superman once said in an interview about how others with the power could learn to take off. “It’s just a leap of faith.” He was right- you almost pissed yourself, but he was right. You understood why he always was floating above the ground; it felt so freeing to fly, circling the manor to the top, feeling the air around you. It was so nice. You should move, fly away, and yet your eyes can’t leave the destroyed garden. You should make a few stops before fully leaving… just a few.

When each of the rogues found one singular flower in their favorite seat, their window sill, on the weapons and cars they owned, all withered and falling apart, they knew what it meant.

Ivy was the first, she knew the second the plants died. After all, she helped keep the plants alive, nothing could thrive on the Wayne land anymore, almost like it was cursed, as if Death herself lived on the grounds. But seeing the burned and greying orange trumpet vine told her everything she needed to know, that it wasn’t you who destroyed them. Bruce Wayne and the Bats didn’t know what was about to come their way.

You’ll miss your friends, the kids, the rogues. You’ll miss Catwoman, but she always told you to be a bit more selfish. This was the moment for that. Doubt settled in at some point, but you had nothing holding you attached to the Waynes, Catwoman couldn’t or just wouldn’t take care of you, it was time to let go and abuse Bruce’s ignorance, make a new life for you where you don’t need to hide in the night for some social interaction.

New York City should be the perfect place for it.

Tag List: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry

[pixiexdusts-world]

Min Ho’s unexpected plus-one

Min Ho Moon x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Min Ho surprises his friends with a girlfriend, and they can’t believe she’s real.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

If my heart beats any faster, I might actually pass out.

I smooth down my sweater for the hundredth time as Min Ho leads me toward the table where his friends—Dae, Q, and Kitty—are sitting. They’re deep in conversation, laughing at something I can’t hear, but the moment Min Ho clears his throat, all three heads turn in our direction.

“Guys,” Min Ho says, his voice casual but confident. “This is my girlfriend.”

Three pairs of eyes widen simultaneously.

“Girlfriend?!” Kitty is the first to react, nearly choking on her drink. She looks between us with the kind of shock I imagine she’d reserve for a major K-drama plot twist. “Did I miss something? Since when do you date?”

Min Ho sighs dramatically, placing a protective arm around my waist. “You all act like I was destined to be alone forever.”

Dae, who has been quiet up until now, finally blinks out of his stunned state. “I mean… kinda?” He looks at me with an apologetic smile. “Not because there’s anything wrong with you! Just, you know, because Min Ho’s… Min Ho.”

I laugh, and Min Ho groans. “Wow. Amazing. So much faith in me.”

Q leans forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studies me. “Okay, but seriously. We need details. How did this happen?”

“Yeah, and how are you putting up with him?” Kitty chimes in, narrowing her eyes at Min Ho like she’s waiting for me to expose all his flaws.

Min Ho scoffs, pressing a hand to his chest. “You know, a normal reaction would be ‘Congratulations, Min Ho! We’re happy for you, Min Ho!’”

Dae shrugs. “We’re still processing.”

I decide to take pity on him. “Honestly, he just kind of grew on me.” I glance up at him with a teasing smile. “Like an expensive, annoyingly charming fungus.”

Kitty gasps in delight. “Oh, I love her.”

Q grins. “Yeah, she’s definitely keeping him humble.”

Dae finally smiles. “Okay, okay, I approve.” He looks at Min Ho. “But if you mess this up, you know we’re all taking her side, right?”

Min Ho sighs. “Obviously.”

I can’t help but laugh as Kitty gestures excitedly for me to sit next to her, already launching into a million questions. Min Ho might have been nervous about this introduction, but honestly? I think I just found my new favorite people.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

As the night goes on, I settle into the group’s dynamic faster than I expected. Kitty is relentless with her questions, grilling me on everything from my favorite K-drama to my most embarrassing childhood story. Q is effortlessly charming, throwing in sarcastic quips that make Min Ho roll his eyes every five minutes. Dae, despite being the most reserved, gives me reassuring smiles that make it clear he’s warming up to me.

Min Ho stays close the whole time, his arm slung casually across the back of my chair, his fingers occasionally brushing against my shoulder. It’s subtle, but I can tell he’s still a little nervous, like he needs to make sure I’m okay. It’s sweet, really.

At one point, Kitty leans over and whispers, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”

“Like what?” I whisper back.

She glances at Min Ho, who’s currently bickering with Q over something ridiculous, then back at me with a knowing smile. “Soft.”

I feel my face warm, but before I can respond, Min Ho turns back to us. “What are you two conspiring about?”

Kitty just winks. “Nothing. Just girl talk.”

Min Ho narrows his eyes at her suspiciously, but before he can press further, Dae checks his phone and sighs. “I should probably head out. My dad’s expecting me home soon.”

Q stretches. “Yeah, me too. But this was fun. You’re officially part of the group now,” he says, giving me an approving nod.

Kitty grins. “Yeah, and don’t worry, we’ll make sure Min Ho treats you right.”

Min Ho scoffs. “She doesn’t need you guys for that. I’m an amazing boyfriend.”

I hum thoughtfully. “Debatable.”

Kitty bursts into laughter. “Oh yeah, I definitely like her.”

As we all say our goodbyes, Min Ho laces his fingers through mine and pulls me a little closer. “See? Told you they’d love you.”

I smile up at him. “Yeah, I think I love them too.”

He smirks. “Not more than you love me, though. Right?”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no denying the warmth spreading through my chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Min Ho grins. “I knew it.”

And just like that, I realize—being with him, being part of this? It feels exactly right.

[cherrybr4t]

pretty boys bring you to heaven - jeon wonwoo (m)

CONTENT WARNINGS: biker bf!wonwoo, jealous wonwoo (hehe.), SMUT!, unprotected p in v, oral (f rec), praise 😇, marking up (f rec), creampie, slightly possessive wonu, overused trope but! dom!wonwoo, sub fem!reader, kitchen counter sex 😔

WC: 2k

A/N: hello..fulfilling my inner teen wattpad days with a cliche scenario & trope. but. hot jealous biker bf wonwoo. one for me pls. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this 😔 (slightly inspired by real life events)

enjoy! <3

"sorry miss, excuse me... my friends and i were over there and we thought you were really pretty.. any chance we could get your digits?"

you were already freezing outside the izakaya restuarant, waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. said boyfriend was about 10 minutes late from the arranged timing.

mustering up the kindest smile you could in that condition, you waved a hand politely, "no thank you, i have a boyfriend." with a curt nod, you shifted about 5 inches to the side.

expecting the guy to take his leave, he offered a cynical chuckle on that scornful face instead.

"come on, it's just your number, hm?" he inched closer, waving his phone in your face.

scoffing, you turned to him, "i'm telling you, i have a boyfriend and he's about to be here any minute now so if i were you, i would walk away,"

"well, i don't see that boyfriend of yours anywhere baby, how 'bout you stop lying—"

"turn around," your eyebrows raised at the familiar deep timbre. you gulped, knowing that you tried to give that poor guy a small warning.

"ah," the guy turned around, took one look over before shaking his head. "didn't peg you for a pretty boy kinda girl babe, oh, and pretty boy rides," he mocked after seeing the sleek black helmet wonwoo was clutching onto.

“yeah? this pretty boy right here s’bout to turn you extra pretty with this helmet right here if you don’t step away from his girlfriend,”

you looked at your boyfriend, sharp eyes daggering through the man, knowing that he meant every word. wonwoo was a rather mellow person, but when things came down to it, you’ve seen first hand how it’s never good to rub him off in the wrong way.

with the exception of yourself, of course. you could do no wrong in your simp of a boyfriend’s eyes.

you felt your insides churn at how he stepped in with such a sinister glare. lips threatening to break into a giddy smile as you were feeling so in love with your boyfriend at the moment, as well as satisfied at how the man is now avoiding his gaze, slowly backing off.

“got it dude, chill out. s’not like i can’t find another one of these bitches out there,”

something in wonwoo snapped and he lunged forward, grabbing onto the man’s shirt with his precious helmet now dropped on the pavement.

“what did you fucking say?”

you decided it was time to step in, not wanting to cause any ruckus — you just wanted the night to be over and done with and to head home, tucked in with your boyfriend.

“alright alright, wonwoo, it’s fine let it go, he’s not worth the trouble,” you tugged onto wonwoo’s shirt, hand reaching up to massage his nape, calming him down.

wonwoo’s muscles relaxed immediately at your touch, before turning over to look at you. taking a few moments before deciding to let go —which was for the better because you knew that guy stood no chance against your hapkido black belt man.

wonwoo pushed him towards the road before grabbing onto your hand, chuckling once he saw that you’ve already picked up the helmet. you shrugged, holding onto him tighter before dragging him towards his bike.

“i’m sorry baby, this wouldn’t have happened if i got here on time.. i swear the traffic lights just weren’t in my favour today,” wonwoo cupped your face gently in his hands, pecking you gently on your lips.

“stop, this isn’t your fault wonwoo.. there’re always gonna be pesky rats out and about, plus i still remember some moves you taught me,” you got into your fight stance, flailing your arms while making exaggerated ‘hah’s.

wonwoo let out a chortle, before patting down your head, “good girl, but… i can tell you’re slightly pissed, you’re calling me wonwoo and not baby,” he wraps his arms around you, lowering his face to rub his obvious pout in your face.

“gosh you’re such a baby, baby.” you kissed his pout to which he gladly welcomed and engulfed you into an open mouth kiss, tightening his grip on you.

“that’s more like it baby, now let’s go home, need to keep my pretty baby out of these dangerous streets,”

wonwoo has you up on the counter back home, between your legs as he kisses you so fervidly while his hands grip onto your waist tightly. you rake your fingers on his nape and across his scalp as you deepen the kiss, tongue entering to find his.

his deep rumble of groans as you run your nails through his scalp has you clenching and you let out a small whimper mid-kiss. he pulls apart and stares at you.

“my pretty baby, so fucking beautiful you got all these men thinking they’ve got a shot,” he groans as he peppers small kisses along your jawline.

“til they find out that you’re mine, hm? not a fucking chance,” he follows through, kissing his way down your neck, stopping at your sweet spot he knows all too well, and starts sucking lightly.

you let out a full fledged moan at this point, head tilting back – unable to control how your boyfriend makes you deranged just by a few kisses.

“wonwoo…” you whine.

“yes baby? needa mark you up all prettily so no one else dares to even make a move hm? all mine mine mine,” he goes down on the same spot, sucking harshly with a few bites before smoothing it over with his tongue. you squeak out in pleasure, loving how his tongue feels so strong yet so good against that bruised spot.

“i'm all yours baby, l-let them all know who i belong to,” you beg, wanting to feel his mouth all over your body, not wanting him to miss any spot.

wonwoo moves on to his next spot, sucking, biting and soothing. you feel so giddy, totally missing his hand creeping towards your core, until you feel him directly palming your cunt aggressively – and you realise just how soaked you are when you feel your panties stick to your cunt.

“fuuck baby, you’re soaking through your fucking pants fuck,” wonwoo pants, inner fire growing stronger seeing how you react to him marking you up. he hastily removes your pants and kicks them aside, licking his lips subtly at the sight of your drenched cunt through your thin panties.

“wo-baby, do something, please,” you grab at nothing desperately on the counter, needing him to do something to release the tension in your core that’s been growing – you feel the need to rub against air.

“yeah? whatever my pretty baby wants,” he starts rubbing on your clothed cunt, before pushing the destroyed fabric aside, fingers soaking in your juices as he plays with your folds.

his other hand grabs onto your jaw forcing you to look at him, “open up,” he whispers before taking his fingers out of your cunt to stuff them into your mouth. you moan at the taste of yourself, eyes fluttering shut.

“so fucking delicious aren’t you,”

he spreads your legs wider before ripping your panties off. getting onto his knees, he positions his face directly in front of your cunt before going in straight and kissing your growing bud.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you scream out as you feel him start to suckle on your swollen bud, before leaving kisses over your folds. he sticks his tongue out, teasing over them before going in through layers of your folds.

“wonwoo!” moaning out your boyfriends name with a cracked voice, you thrust your hips in his face, craving more.

“as always, fucking sweet and fucking delicious, god,” he moans into your cunt, looking like a starved man as he eats and laps at your cunt so ravenously.

he grabs onto your thighs, forcing them to stay apart as he continues diving deeper into your sweet cunt, that tall nose of his hitting the right spot, rubbing against your bundle of nerves at a consistent pace.

“w-wonwoo, i’m gonna cum, gonna cum, wanna cum c-can i,” you cry out, feeling the gates of your dam about to break open any time.

wonwoo looks up you, half-lidded and lustful gaze as he urges you, "cum baby, cum all over my face fuck, need you to,"

few seconds after, you grab onto wonwoo’s hair as you feel the last string break, feeling of numbness engulfing your whole as you feel all the tension pump out of you. pulling his locks as you release your juices, moaning out his name like a mantra as you came, and you feel like you've been to heaven and back.

wonwoo doesn’t stop, and continues drinking in all of you – every last drop of your release. you pushed his head away due to oversensitivity, and wonwoo stands up chuckling.

“you make the prettiest sounds when you cum for me baby, can you do it again for me?” wonwoo coos, and kisses your forehead, slowly removing the remaining articles of clothing between the both of you.

“only if i get to cum around your cock this time,” you shot back lazily, eyes still hazy and drunk on your previous orgasm, yet still greedy for wonwoo’s cock. always greedy for more of him.

“of course baby, gotta feed this pussy more of my cock and my cum to remind who it belongs to, hm?” he turns you around before bending you over the counter. you smirk, heart palpitating at being manhandled to one of your favourite positions.

wonwoo glides his hands down your spine, caressing your cheeks, playing with them before slapping his pink and bulging tip on them.

“perfect ass, perfect tits, perfect everything, my fucking perfect baby, you were made for me and only me,” wonwoo moans out, letting his tip drench in your juices along your folds.

“mm wonwoo, baby, put it in, please,” you wiggle your hips backwards, and after a few more slaps against your cunt, he finally slides his tip in, causing you to gasp and fall forward onto the counter more.

you feel your walls constrict and expand aggressively, trying to suck your boyfriends length in inch by inch desperately.

wonwoo has a hand wrapped around your waist as he slides his full length in, both of you releasing the airiest moan once feeling each other on every nerve ending.

wonwoo starts to find a rhythm, hips thrusting so deep in you feel his tip hitting your cervix so comfortably and so fully every thrust you can’t help but scream out every time his tip nudges against that spot.

“so fucking good, cunt was made for me baby, making me see stars and shit,” wonwoo rasps out, panting as he struggles to formulate a sentence without breaking into moans.

“nngh, it feels so good wonwoo, so big, s-so good,” you were mind-fucked. having his cock in you deduced your brain to having no thoughts but him. crying out for him with no other care in this world.

“my pretty baby, wanna see you cum for me again, need to feel you cum around my cock for me, can–ah fuck–can you do that for me?” with an arm around you playing with your tits, and another arm suddenly reaching towards your exposed and swollen bud, you feel all hairs stand and being the most stimulated you’ve ever been.

“argh! wonwoo.. fuck,” you wail out his name, feeling so close to that eureka moment once again as your boyfriend rubs sloppy yet tight circles around your clit.

“mm baby, its okay, just cum for me hm? come on, cum around your cock, cum for me, cum cum,”

with him voicing his encouragements right behind you, you feel your abdomen reach its tightest point, before you feel the tipping point pour over, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over you, trembling underneath your boyfriend. squeezing the life out of his cock, you hear him groan.

“good girl, fuck, so fucking good, gonna cum for you now baby,”

soon after your release, you feel wonwoo’s body lurch and fall atop yours as his cum fills you up to the brim, and you moan at the warm liquid blanketing your cunt and its walls.

wonwoo steps back to admire his cum dripping out of your swollen cunt for a good minute, before you whine out for him - needing your after-fuck hugs and kisses.

he obliges, but whispers as he nibbles on your ear lobe, "don't think i'm done with you yet baby, you've got a loooong night ahead of you,"

a/n: hit the reblog if you've enjoyed this my loves! thank you so much for reading <3 sending love and kisses to everyone!

[five-rivers]

nervous

This fic is for the @infiniterealms remix event! Please enjoy!

.

“Stop it,” whispered Star, putting her foot on top of Paulina’s.  “If you were going to freak out this much, you should have stayed home.  Or at least not come to breakfast.”

“I don’t miss school.  Or breakfast.”  It was too important.  The time before class was when rumors and information about what happened outside of school came to light.  

Today, knowing the rumors would be vital.  

She picked at her nails.  They were new, the acrylics freshly applied, but they weren’t quite as even as they usually were.  Not up to her usual standards.  But she had to do it, just like she had to come in today.  

Star put her hands over Paulina’s.  They were shaking, too.  “It’s going to be fine,” she said.  “You just have to be, like, zen about it.”

“He didn’t even have anything on him.”

“I know.  But we’ll work something out. Just- Just stop talking about it.”

Paulina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

.

Star and Paulina watched Valerie stalk across the courtyard, head held high, lunch tray exactly parallel to the ground.  Despite not being in any sports, she moved with a tight, athletic grace.  She drew eyes.

“She’s been getting full of herself lately,” said Paulina.  “Like, she thinks she’s better than us.  We’ve got to do something.”

“Aw, Pauli,” said Star.  “Do we have to?”

“Like, yeah?  Unless we want to just, you know, give up.”

“Give up what?”

“Uh, being on top?  Duh.”

“I don’t know.”

“Listen, Star,” said Paulina, turning to face her.  “I know you used to like her, but you’ve got to get over it.  She’s the one who ditched us.  And no one ditches us.”

Star looked down at her lunch, then nodded.

“Anyway,” said Paulina, flipping her hair over her shoulder.  “I’ve got an idea.”

.

Paulina’s eyes drifted to where Valerie sat eating breakfast.  She was wearing long sleeves, pants, and a hoodie.  She hadn’t worn skirts or short sleeves since… 

It was whatever.  It wasn’t like Paulina cared.  She was only looking because sometimes Valerie talked to the loser trio.  

“We can check his locker,” Star was saying.  “We’ve got the key.  We just have to wait for a good time.  We can take one more day.”

Paulina nodded and smiled shallowly.  “Maybe.”  Her smile quickly fell away, but as more people entered the cafeteria she covered up her general… mood… by examining her nails and checking her reflection in her new makeup mirror.  

.

“That was great,” said Paulina.  “Did you see the look on her face?”

“Mhm,” said Star, smiling tightly.  

“It’ll keep her from looking down her nose at us,” said Paulina.  She flipped open her makeup mirror, to check and make sure her lipstick hadn’t smudged.  But what she saw wasn’t her face.  It was something terrible.  Something rotting and skull-like.  

She shrieked and dropped the mirror, breaking it.  

Suddenly, the hallway was empty and cold.

“Bullieeeeees…” groaned a sepulchral voice.  “Bullieeeeeeeeeeeeees…  You will regreeeeeeet…”

.

Paulina shivered.  

“You alright?” asked Kwan.

“Just a chill.”  She shot a smile at him.  “They’ve changed the air conditioner settings or something, it’s like it’s blowing on me.”

The others started joking about how underfunded and cheap the school was.  This allowed Paulina to turn her attention to the doors just as Sam Manson came in.  

Even under these circumstances, Paulina couldn’t help but curl her lip at Manson’s appearance.  Everything she wore was just so– so ugly.  Even the way she dyed her hair was crude.  The color was totally fake and flat.  Her skirt looked like someone had taken a pair of scissors and a spray can to it.  The less said about her grungy, safety-pinned jacket the better.  

But more than that, seeing Manson reminded Paulina of the last time she’d had the displeasure of speaking to her. 

.

It had been two days since they’d pranked Valerie, and those two days were the worst.  Everything that could go wrong, did.  She always had a backup outfit at school - no one was perfect, but she could look that way - but her spare skirt caught on the door of her locker and tore.  And then there were… things.  Things lurking in mirrors, or out of the corner of her eye.  The feeling of something just outside the door whenever she went to the school bathrooms… 

And Star was having some kind of problem with missing textbooks or whatever.  It wasn’t important.

But Paulina knew exactly how to deal with this.  Or, rather, exactly who could deal with this.  It was just a matter of getting in touch with her knight in shining armor.  

She knew just how to do it, though.  She’d done it before.  For one reason or another, Phantom always showed up most often around the loser trio.  Probably because they sucked so much that they just, like, attracted ghosts who wanted to kill them or something, and Phantom had to spend all his time protecting them instead of dating Paulina, like he deserved.  

Whatever it was, it meant that she could get a message to Phantom through them.

She waited for the right time to approach them - not because she cared about them, but because she could practically feel her reputation taking a hit just from being around them - and then put on her best smile and dragged Star along behind her.

“What do you want?” snarled Manson.

“Rude,” she said.  

Manson’s eyes narrowed.  “Get on with it.  We want to get to class.”

She tittered in a way that she knew irritated Manson.  “So, you guys see Phantom all the time, right?”

“N-not really,” said Fenton, not looking at her.

“As much as anyone,” said Manson.  

“Well, you see,” said Paulina, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers, “I was wondering if you could give him a message from me?”

“You want to invite him to your birthday party through us again?”

“No,” said Paulina, rolling her eyes.  That hadn’t worked well enough for her to want Manson in her house ever again.  “It’s just, I’ve been having a bit of a ghost problem.”

“Me, too,” said Star, quickly.

Fenton looked up, brows pinched together.  “You have?”

“It’s Poindexter,” said Manson.  “You remember.  From what they did with Valerie.”

“Oh,” said Fenton, expression shuttering.  “Tuck, are you sure you have the right combination?”

“Dude, just use your key.  You have it, right?”

Fenton started to search his pockets and backpack.

“It isn’t just anything,” said Paulina, “it’s, like, a huge problem whenever I’m at school.”

“Then stay home,” said Manson.  “Or be less of a b–”

Fenton opened his locker with a bang, shoved back in the gadgets that tried to spill out, and started exchanging books.  

“Sorry,” said Manson, clearly feeling anything but.  “We’ve got class.”

.

Paulina growled a little inside.  If it hadn’t been for Manson, then it never would have gotten this far.  Phantom would have fixed everything.  

When Foley arrived, he looked…  Normal.  He clearly hadn’t heard anything.  He wasn’t upset enough.

Either way, he sat down next to Manson and they started talking.  

“Come on, Pauli, let’s go,” said Star, tugging Paulina’s arm.  

“Uh, what?”

“You said you’d help me do my hair before class,” lied Star.  

.

Paulina wasn’t the kind of person to give up, and she wasn’t going to let Manson get in the way of making this stupid ghost go away and bother someone who actually deserved it.  Like Lester, maybe.  He was so annoying, and he’d had the guts to ask her to the last dance.  So gross.  

So, she waited until Fenton was alone and cornered him.  

“Phantom and I don’t talk to each other,” he said, not looking directly at her, which was so annoying.  He was supposed to have a huge crush on her.  This was supposed to work.  “I can’t help you with that.”

“But he’s always around you.  I just need you to pass on one message.”

“I can’t help you,” repeated Danny.  “My parents are ghost hunters, Paulina, they chase after Phantom and shoot at him.  He doesn’t want to talk to me.  I’m pretty sure Phantom has some kind of truce with Sidney, anyway.”

“Who?”

“You know, the ghost that’s haunting you?  Sidney Poindexter?  You’ll be fine, you just have–”

“That gross nerd?”  Paulina needed to get rid of this ghost even more!  She shuddered.  

“Okay, fine,” said Star, who Paulina had almost forgotten was there, “so he doesn’t talk to you - like, who would–”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But you’ve got, like, stuff from your parents, right?  Ghost hunting stuff.  You could give that to us for, like, protection.”

Fenton backed away.  “I really can’t.”

.

“Sorry,” said Star as they left the cafeteria.  “But this’ll probably be the best time, before classes start and while those two are still in the cafeteria.  You still have the keys?”

“Yeah,” said Paulina, touching her purse.  “Yeah.  Yeah, of course I do.  I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were,” said Star.  She sped up, lengthening her stride.  “God, this would have been so much easier if he’d just been, like, a halfway decent person and helped us.”

One of the classroom doors next to them opened and Mr. Falluca walked out.  Paulina froze for a second, but Mr. Falluca wasn’t even looking at them, instead focused on the stack of papers in his hands. 

“Don’t just stand there looking guilty,” hissed Star.  “Come on, Pauli.  We have to keep going.”

Paulina swallowed and nodded.  

.

“Come on Fenton.”  This time, she’d caught him before school, when no one would see.  “How often do your parents check your stuff?  We won’t need it for long, you know?  If they notice, can’t you just say a ghost stole it?”

“Okay, how about this?  I don’t want to give you anything.”

“What?” demanded Paulina.  “Why not?”

“You know that I dated Valerie, right?”

“And then she dropped you like a bag of moldy potatoes,” said Paulina.  “Your point?”

“My point is that I still like her.  And what you did to her….  Look.  Just apologize to her.  Really apologize, like, make amends and stuff, and you’ll be fine, okay?”

.

The hallway Fenton’s locker was in was empty, although there were sounds coming from a few of the classrooms.  

“Okay,” said Star.  “Keys.”

Paulina nodded, then dug them out of her purse to hand to her.

“Keep an eye out.”  Star turned towards Fenton’s padlock.  It was one of those weird ones that had both a combination lock and a backup keyhole.  “God, why does he have so many keys?”

“I don’t know, just hurry, okay?”

“Yeah,” muttered Star.  “Don’t worry, everything will be over soon.”

.

“Hey!” shouted Star.  “Fenton!”

He stopped, looking back over his shoulder warily.  

“If you don’t help us,” said Star, out of breath, “then–” 

“Then we’ll tell everyone about your ghost detector,” finished Paulina.  They’d scraped together every rumor about Fenton they could to come up with this.

“My… what?” said Fenton, blankly.  

Paulina had to give him credit, he was a good liar.  “You don’t expect people to believe you go to the bathroom that much, do you?  And always right before a ghost attack?  We know your parents gave you something.  Help us, or we’ll tell everyone about it, and about how you’ve been keeping it to yourself so you can hide like a coward.”

“I– What?  I don’t– I don’t have anything like that!”

She took back what she said about him being good at lying.

“If I can notice it,” said Paulina, “other people will believe it.  You think you’re at the bottom of the social ladder now…” she trailed off, threateningly.  Maybe if she hadn’t been so stressed, she would have tried a bit more honey, but sometimes vinegar was all you had.

A number of complex expressions chased across Fenton’s face, but they ended with something hard.  

“No,” he said, and then he turned away and left.  

.

“Ha!  Got it.”  Star dropped the lock in her pocket before pulling open the locker. 

“What does he have?” asked Paulina, looking over her shoulder.  “He has to have some kind of, like, shield or something.”

“I don’t know,” said Star, pushing textbooks to the side.  “You’re seeing what I’m seeing.  Here.”  She pulled a backpack - not Fenton’s normal one - off the hook.  “See what you can find in here.”

She pulled open the zipper, and inside was… money?  A cheap flip phone?  Lipstick?  Two changes of clothes, one for a girl?

Paulina wondered what Fenton was into, but it didn’t matter now.  She unzipped the smaller pockets and started rifling through those.

.

“What now?” asked Star.  

It had been a few days since they’d last talked to Fenton, and, therefore, a few days since they’d spread around the rumor, but Fenton had been… unmoved.  

Which meant that Sidney Poindexter was still a problem.

With an act of will, Paulina smoothed out her expression.  “If we can’t get what we want by asking nicely, we’ll just take it.”

“But, like, how?  He’s not coming to us.”

“Not yet,” she said.  She thought about it.  “Mama always said, if a man’s hiding one thing, he’s hiding a bunch else, too.  We’ll slip him a note saying, like, if he doesn’t want his real secret to be spread around, he’ll show up.”

“And give us what we want?”

“No,” said Paulina.  “I don’t think that he’ll give once he’s seen us.  He’s got to carry his stuff on him, right?  So we’ll just take it then.”

“Beat up Fenton by ourselves?” asked Star, dubiously.  

“Or threaten him,” said Paulina.  “We both bring something to threaten him with, okay?”  Her Papa had a stun gun, and she was sure Star could scrounge up a baseball bat or something. 

And, besides, she wanted to get Fenton back.

.

“There’s nothing in here!” hissed Star, frustrated.  She slammed the locker closed, making Paulina jump.  “What the hell.”

Paulina grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the nearest bathroom.  “Can you not?”

“Can you not?  It’s your fault we’re even in this situation!”  

“My fault?  What about what you did?”

.

Fenton was already there, leaning against the guardrail, when they reached the bridge in the park.  During daylight, it was a popular spot for couples, but it was creepy and abandoned at night

“Oh, no, not this again.  Haven’t you had enough fun with your stupid ghost detector rumor?”

“It’s not about fun, Fenton,” said Paulina.  “Now, give it over.”

“Or what?”  He stood up and walked a few steps closer to them, a strange expression on his face.  “I don’t think you actually know anything, or you would’ve used it already.”

“Or this,” said Paulina, pulling out the stun gun.  

“What the–  Is that a taser?” asked Fenton, raising his hands and stepping back.  “Are– Are you robbing me?”  He glanced sideways at Star, apparently only then noticing her bat.  

“Consider a donation to a worthy cause,” said Paulina.  “Hand over your ghost stuff.”

“I don’t have any,” said Fenton.  

“When you’re out here in the middle of the night?” asked Paulina, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, you wouldn’t even be haunted if you–”

Paulina saw red and hit the trigger.  The electrodes flew from the end of the stun gun, right on target.  Fenton yelped and fell to the ground, seizing.  

It was… satisfying, for lack of a better word.  She’d just been so– So frustrated, lately.  All of her normal ways of blowing off steam at school had been blocked by that horrible ghost.  

She pulled the trigger again.  

But, before she could, Fenton had swiped away the electrodes, and now he was pulling himself up with the railing, hand over his face.  What Paulina could see of it though–

Star came in, swinging her bat.  She cracked Fenton right across the jaw and he tumbled over the railing and off the bridge.  There was a loud cracking sound.  Fenton hitting the pavement of the walkway below.  

There was no other sound.  

Paulina breathed in, breathed out.  

“What did you do that for?” she asked.  

“You didn’t see his face,” wailed Star.  “He looked like– like he was going to kill you.  I didn’t hit him that hard!”

Paulina shook her head and went down under the bridge.  Star followed close behind.  Fenton was… lying there.  Broken.  

But still breathing.  

“We’ve got to search him,” said Star.  

“Hm?”

“For his stuff.”

“Oh, right.”

“And then we’ve got to…”

“I know,” said Paulina.  Then, dreamlike, she asked, “Can I borrow your bat?”

.

“We both did things,” said Paulina, finally.  “The important thing is that we’re in this together, right?”  Her voice trembled.  “Right?”

Star nodded.  “Right.  So– So, we can, like, we have his house keys, too.”

“Yeah,” said Paulina.  The Fentons had to have something in their house, even if their kid was apparently a moron who went around with absolutely nothing.  

“And no one’s even noticed he’s gone yet,” continued Star.  “We’ve just…”  She stopped as she put her hand in her pocket.  “I’ve still got his stupid lock.”

“Who cares?”

“His friends will notice if it’s gone.  And we’ve got to get to class, anyway.”  Star seemed to be calming down again.  Good.  She was surprisingly useful in a… situation.

.

In Paulina’s trunk was a thick canvas tarp.

She didn’t know why, exactly.  It had come with the car.  

Star went over it, pulling off tags.

Paulina broke two nails getting it back to the trunk.  

They drove to the river.  

“They’ll assume it was a ghost,” said Star.  “Especially if they don’t find him.”

Paulina had just nodded.  

.

Paulina followed Star as they left the bathroom.  It was fine.  They were going to put the lock back on the locker and it would all be fine.  

But someone was standing in front of Fenton’s locker.  

They turned, slowly, as if they were a character in a lame horror movie.  But Paulina couldn’t move.  Couldn’t breathe.  Couldn’t think.  

Fenton’s eyes met hers.  

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

45 ┆Oh. (0.5k words)

Honestly, you were confused as to why Wonyoung dragged you to the club room without any explanation. She even left you there, saying that she would be back to let you out.

Did you do something bad to deserve a time out from your previous club president?

You had so many questions to ask her when she returned.

On the other hand, Jungwon was nervous. What if you didn’t see him the same way? Him and Wonyoung had spoken about confessing to you when the two hung out, but he was unsure.

He couldn’t tell the boys either. They would tease him too much before offering him any help.

The ding from his phone gained his attention, making his over consuming thoughts disappear. It was from Wonyoung. Her message read the words, ‘coast is clear’, with a thumbs up and grinning emoji. 

Reality was now sinking in. Yang Jungwon was going to confess to the girl he liked. Something he had never experienced before. 

He rummaged in his pocket for the key to the club room and inserted it into the lock. 

“Jungwon?” You called, turning around to look at him. He was barely visible in your vision. The club room was dimmed due to the inactivity of the space. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a bashful smile. You examined his figure, taking note of how blonde his hair appeared and how his hands remained behind him.

“Oh, here.” He said while handing you a bouquet of daisies.

“I didn’t know what flowers you liked… I just went off of what you posted recently.” 

“What’s going on?” You asked, confused. It was a valid reaction. One, you were randomly brought to the club room you rarely visited ever since you began helping the yearbook club, and two, the boy who you thought liked another girl was currently handing you flowers.

What the hell was happening?

You looked at him with furrowed brows as his eyes stared into yours. He seemed hesitant and nervous. 

“Jungwon,” you began, about to ask him the same question from before.

“What’s—”

“I like you.” He interrupted, leaving you stunned.

“I truly do like you and get all flustered when we’re close to each other. It’s kind of bad, but I’m not ashamed of it. You’re genuinely an amazing person and I failed to realize it for the last three years. Instead, I shielded your true self with the one I made up in my head after we got off on the wrong foot.” Jungwon explained.

You paused as Jungwon watched you for any signs of emotion. However, worry washed over him in an instant. You stayed silent longer than Jungwon expected you to. What if you didn’t see him the same way and he had poured his heart out to you for nothing?

What if you were going to humiliate him after all of this?

“Sorry I—”

“What about Wonyoung? You don’t like her?” You asked, cutting him off while feeling all flustered and confused.

“What—No, of course not. Why would I?” His brows furrowed in confusion. What were you talking about?

“You two were always together and got pretty close to each other recently…”

“Would you believe it if I said she was helping me with my feelings this whole time? She found out because of the video I sent her of the arts night event… It was kind of embarrassing, but luckily it brought me here.”

“Oh.”

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

NOTE — me and those Oh. endings LMAOO

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @stvrriki @domfikeluva @mensisim @tasnemluvs @httpenhoon @sch1z0prenic @kazemiya @rairaiblog @enhypenlovre @starry-eyed-bimbo @cupidhoons @miyawwn @siekksjs @wonfused @renjuneoo @wildtigerlili @nishiriks @letwiiparkjay

© JUYEOZ

[fairqves]

୨୧ DON’T FORGET TO KISS ME

───── IN WHICH you prank the members and dodge their attempts at kissing you!

(🐰) ⟡ 𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘 — 𝒽yung line! enha & 𝑓! reader .. fluff, established relationship ♡ ◞ wc 0.2K each 𓂅 warnings : not proofread, skinship, kissing.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

LEE HEESEUNG

IN THE BEGINNING, heeseung simply thought you dodging his kisses was truly a pure coincidence.

the first time you turned away, he barely notices—the second time, he pauses for a second, but he shakes it off.

but by the third time? his eyes glow in realization, and a mischievous, knowing smirk creeps onto his face.

“oh? so that’s how you wanna play?”

you may love teasing him—but the one thing you didn’t take into consideration was that heeseung holds the title of being the biggest tease ever, so there’s no way he’s letting you get away with this.

the next time you try to dodge, he suddenly grabs your waist and spins you around so fast you barely process it before his lips crash against yours, breathless and dizzying. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶 ♡

“you thought you could escape my kisses?” he whispers against your lips with a grin, his voice smug as he kisses you again and again, deeper each time.

after that, heeseung literally makes it his mission to kiss you at the most unexpected times—ambushing you when you’re reaching for something, cornering you against the counter, sneaking up behind you and placing pecks along your jaw before you can escape.

“you started this babe,” he teases, pressing another smooch to your cheek, “so now you have to deal with the consequences.”

and those consequences? neverending kisses.

PARK JONGSEONG

THE FIRST TIME you dodge jay’s kiss, he barely reacts.

the second time, he tilts his head with confusion flickering in his eyes. and the third time, he freezes.

“…did you just—” he blinks, looking genuinely taken aback.

when you dodge him again, jay just stares at you as if you just broke his heart. his eyebrows furrow, his lips part slightly, and his entire face radiates hurt puppy energy.

“why are you running from me?” his voice is soft and whiny, almost pouty. you’re trying so hard not to laugh, but the moment you see his lips form into a pout, you nearly break.

he sighs dramatically, falling back onto the couch as if the weight of your rejection is too much to bear.

“oh, i see how it is,” he mutters, crossing his arms stubbornly. “i cook for you, i take care of you, and this is how you treat me?”

you’re about to tell him it’s just a joke, but before you can, he suddenly pulls you down onto his lap, wrapping his arms tight around your waist so you can’t escape.

his chin rests on your shoulder as he lets out another exaggerated sigh. “you owe me now,” he mumbles, his lips brushing your neck. “i expect at least ten kisses as payment.”

and when you finally do give in and kiss him? he hums in satisfaction, nuzzling into you like a content cat.

“…make it twenty.”

SIM JAEYUN

AT FIRST WHEN you dodge jake’s kiss, he literally pauses mid-way, blinking in confusion.

the second time, he lets out a small laugh in disbelief, as if he can’t fathom what’s happening.

the third time you dodge, his jaw drops.

“babe,” he whines, eyes wide with betrayal. “what did i do?!”

you try to act as if you have no idea what he’s talking about, but the moment he starts following you around the house like a sad puppy, you almost break.

every time you move, he moves. every time you sit, he sits closer.

after your fourth dodge, jake dramatically collapses onto the couch, spreading his arms out.

“this is it,” he groans. “just say you wanna break up.”

but when you giggle and dodge him again, something in him snaps. suddenly, he scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing.

“that’s it,” he announces, spinning you around as you shriek. “i tried to be nice.”

you’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe, and before you know it, he’s got you pinned to the couch, his face hovering inches over yours.

“you really thought you could get away with this, huh?” he teases, breathless from chasing you. then, before you can react, he peppers kisses everywhere—your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, every spot he missed earlier.

by the time he finally lets you go, you’re dizzy from all the affection.

“that’s what you get,” he says, grinning like a kid who just won a prize. “next time, just kiss me and save yourself the trouble.”

PARK SUNGHOON

THE VERY FIRST ATTEMPT, sunghoon doesn’t react. when you dodged, he simply raised an eyebrow. the second time, his lips twitch.

but by the third time? his entire expression goes blank.

“oh.” his voice is completely neutral, but you can tell he’s analyzing every past interaction, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

you expect him to fight for your affection like the videos you’ve seen of other couples, but instead…he just shrugs.

“okay then.”

and then he stops trying.

no more sneaky kisses. no more casual pecks. no more attempts to close the distance. instead, he just leans back and watches you with unreadable eyes.

at first, you’re fine. it was just a joke, after all. but after a while, the lack of affection gets to you. you’re used to sunghoon pulling you in by the waist, used to the intimacy between the two of you.

so when he sits on the other side of the couch, scrolling through his phone as if he doesn’t care, you start to panic.

“hoon…” you inch closer. he doesn’t react.

you poke his cheek. no reaction. finally, you swallow your pride and kiss his jaw softly. he immediately turns, raising an eyebrow. “oh? i thought you didn’t want kisses.”

you groan, hiding your face in his shoulder. “it was just a joke!”

he smirks. “oh, i know.” and then he decides to be a menace—he gets revenge. he ignores you for the rest of the day, dodging your kisses instead.

when you finally pin him down, desperate for his affection, he just grins. “guess you learned your lesson, huh?”

and of course—he kisses you senseless after that.

© FAIRQVES 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. i’m almost at 2000 followers idk what’s going on anymore. wdym 2000 people enjoy my works… i need to process this help 😦

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @chaeneu @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy @dazzlingjaeyun

[riddlesb1tch]

Claimed by Shadows

Azriel Shadowsinger x reader

summary: Azriel finds out that you are going to be helping your friend Kaelen with a task and he gets a bit...jealous.

warnings: none

"Azriel, wake up!" You shook your boyfriend’s shoulder, trying to rouse him from sleep. You had been at it for the past ten minutes, standing beside his bed, fully dressed and ready for the day, while Azriel hadn't even grazed the hem of consciousness.

Growing impatient, you gave his shoulder a more violent shake, but the stubborn male simply groaned, rolling away from you as if the world beyond his dreams didn’t exist.

You knew he was doing this on purpose. The exaggerated snoring, the way his lips twitched with suppressed amusement—it was all a game to him. Teasing you seemed to be his favorite pastime.

Crossing your arms, you huffed, "Azriel, if you don't wake up, I'm leaving, and you won’t see me the entire weekend!"

That got him moving.

In a blink, Azriel sat up and yanked you down onto the bed, pulling a surprised shriek from your lips. Before you could even register what had happened, you found yourself pinned beneath him, his powerful frame hovering over yours.

"Az!" you gasped, glaring up at him.

He smirked, his golden-brown eyes filled with heat and amusement. His tousled black hair fell over his forehead, his bare chest warm against yours. His lips—plump and pink—parted slightly as he took you in.

"You know," he murmured, voice still husky from sleep, "you look so hot when you're threatening me."

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words, and you internally cursed yourself for how easily he affected you.

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "How would you know? Your eyes were closed."

Azriel grinned. "Touché." Then, before you could say another word, he leaned down and caught your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

His thumb stroked your jaw as his hand came up to cup your face, and when you tangled your fingers in his soft hair, pulling him closer, a low groan escaped his throat—sending a thrill straight through you.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, Azriel pressed one last kiss to your forehead before collapsing onto his back and pulling you to his chest.

You lay there, fingers tracing lazy patterns over his stomach.

"You wanna go to the café later today?" he asked casually, brushing his fingers through your hair.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze through your lashes. "You know, your efforts in asking me on a date have dropped significantly since we started dating."

Azriel playfully swatted at your shoulder. "Do you, though?"

You sighed. "I can’t. I promised Kaelen I’d help him go through some old potion books to find a cure for the plague in the Autumn Court."

Azriel’s brows immediately furrowed. "When? You didn’t tell me about this before."

"I just did," you replied with a teasing smile, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

Azriel sat up suddenly, facing you, his expression unreadable. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, then closed again.

"Are you okay?" you teased. "Shall I fetch a fishbowl for you, Mr. Shadowsinger?"

Azriel ignored your quip, his jaw tightening. "Why you?"

"Because he asked for my help," you shrugged. "It’s not a big deal, Azzie."

Azriel’s expression darkened. "He obviously has a crush on you, Y/N!"

You blinked, then laughed outright. "That’s ridiculous!"

Azriel did not look amused.

"Y/N, I’ve seen the way he looks at you," he insisted. "During training, after training, every time you’re in the same room—"

"He’s my friend," you interrupted, shaking your head. "And even if he did have a crush on me, I’m not interested, so you have no reason to be jealous."

Azriel exhaled sharply, but his grip around your waist tightened possessively.

"I’m not jealous," he sputtered, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise. "I just don’t want another male eyeing what mine"

You grinned. "Okay, that was kind of cute."

Azriel smirked, but you could still feel the tension in his body.

"Now," you continued, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping out of bed, "I’m heading down to breakfast. See you there in a few?"

"Yeah," Azriel muttered, watching you go, still brooding.

Breakfast had come and gone, and Azriel never showed up.

You now sat in the Townhouse with Mor, half-listening to her chatter while your eyes constantly wandered to the door, waiting for your missing Shadowsinger.

Finally, Cassian walked in.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted.

"Hey," you replied, still watching the door.

Cassian raised a brow. "Looking for someone?"

"Yeah," you sighed. "Did you see Azriel?"

Cassian shook his head, offering an apologetic shrug.

Before you could dwell on it, Kaelen appeared in front of you.

"Hey!" he greeted with a smile. "Still good for the library at one?"

"Yep!" you confirmed.

And then—as if summoned by pure spite—the doors finally opened, and in walked the Shadowsinger.

Your stupidly handsome boyfriend zeroed in on you instantly… and then his gaze darkened when he spotted Kaelen.

Striding over, Azriel dropped into the seat beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead.

"Hey, princess," he murmured. Then, to Kaelen—dryly—"Hey."

Kaelen nodded stiffly, then quickly took his leave.

You turned to Azriel, crossing your arms. "I waited for you for over an hour! Where were you?"

Azriel smirked and pulled a small bag from behind him. "I went to get you this."

You frowned as he held up a blue hoodie with “AZRIEL’S GIRL” embroidered in gold across the front.

"What is that?" you asked incredulously.

"Your outfit," he declared, "for when you’re with Kaelen. So he knows you’re mine."

You groaned. "Azriel, the whole damn Court already knows we’re together!"

"I’d just like to make it extra clear so he can focus his efforts on someone else," he said smugly.

"You’re impossible," you muttered, but a small laugh escaped you.

Azriel leaned in and whispered, "Besides… you look crazy sexy in blue."

Your cheeks flamed, and you shoved him away.

After much persuasion (and lowkey begging from Azriel), you begrudgingly wore the hoodie over your outfit before meeting Kaelen.

"Cool hoodie," he remarked, smirking.

You mumbled a quiet, "Thanks," before diving into your research.

An hour later, as you were packing up, a male dressed in an orange tunic approached Kaelen.

"Hey, babe," the male said, kissing Kaelen’s lips.

Azriel, standing beside you, visibly paled.

Kaelen was—as you had told him—not even remotely interested in you.

Turning to Azriel with a smug grin, you said, "See, Azzie?"

Azriel cleared his throat. "You didn’t say he was gay."

You smirked. "Regardless… you should listen to your girlfriend."

Azriel just groaned.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

i’m obsessed with your declan fics! can we get one where the reader has to calm him down? it would be even more fun if they were mad/annoyed at each other but he can’t help but seek her out when he needs comfort 👀

Paradoxical.

you currently can’t stand the sight of each other. and yet, in this moment… yours is the only face he wants to see.

declan o’hara x female reader (nickname - lucky.)

warnings - smut. cursing. angst. unspecified age gap. yeeeeeearning.

word count - 4.6k

authors note - she’s back 💋. loooved this request, so thank you so much to whoever sent it!! i’m still on my rivals shit, so please join me in this never ending journey. never getting over this man <3

masterlist. inbox.

“How are you doing?”

You snuggle further into the pillows on the bed, popping another strawberry in your mouth to avoid the question.

“Lucky.”

“Hmm?”

“I asked how you are.”

“M’fine,” you answer as you chew, praying the subject gets changed. She clearly doesn’t believe you, so you sigh and look at her pointedly. “I’m being serious. I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Taggie.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What? No! I’d never think that.”

“Then why are you treating me like I’m oblivious? I can see that you’re not fine, but you keep lying to my face.”

Taking a deep breath, you exhale in resignation.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re caught in the middle of all of this, Tag.”

“I’m not-”

“You are. He’s your dad, I’m your friend. You are quite literally the middle man here.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she counters, perching on the edge of her bed. “If I have to be the peacekeeper, I will be.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

“I know, but these things happen. I just… if I knew what had happened, I could try and fix it.”

“You can’t fix this, Tag. I promise you, you can’t.”

She’s quiet for a moment, tracing the patterns on your socks as she thinks.

“What happened, Lucky? I swear that whatever it is, I won’t judge you. I just want to know how it all went so… wrong. One minute the two of you were the best of friends, and the next minute you’re packing up your office and leaving without so much as an explanation.”

“It’s complicated,” you murmur.

“So complicated that you had to quit your job?”

“Yes.”

“He’s never going to find a better assistant than you, you know. Never. He doesn’t even want to look for one, says he’d rather do all the work himself.”

“Well that’s stupid of him. He can’t do all that stuff himself.”

“Exactly. He’s willing to put himself through all of that stress so as not to replace you.”

“That’s his foolish choice, Tag.”

She sighs in frustration, leaning back against the footboard of the bed.

“Did he upset you? Did he say something stupid? You know what he’s like, he often doesn’t think before he speaks. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation here.”

“It wasn’t him, it was me. I quit by my own volition. He didn’t upset me, he didn’t offend me… I just had to do the right thing, which was to leave. I know you’re trying to help, Tag, but you can’t. Not with this.”

Taggie finally realises that she’s fighting a losing battle, choosing instead to shuffle over so she’s all cosy in the pillows next to you.

“I won’t tell him you were here,” she whispers, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Thank you. I’m sorry you’re caught up in the middle of all of this.”

“I don’t mind, honestly. I just wish there was something I could do.”

“Give it some time. It’s meant to heal all wounds, after all.”

She chuckles, resting her head against yours affectionately.

“Will you help me make some raspberry tarts? I need at least forty of them, and I could do with an extra pair of hands.”

“Of course I will. But if your dad comes home, I’m sprinting out the back door.”

“Alright,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help with your escape, if need be.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re tempted to smash your head into the bar top.

You’ve been debating the pros and cons of it for the last forty five minutes, actually.

The gala is bustling, bodies packed into the beautiful ballroom with barely an inch between them. Everyone has a drink in hand, the light from the chandelier glinting off of the champagne and whiskey poured into crystal glasses.

You’d said yes to the event when you were still Declan’s assistant - assuming that you’d go together, just like always. And now, here you are, standing on opposite ends of the room and avoiding each other like your lives depend on it.

A cool hand finds your waist, spiced aftershave hitting your senses and letting you know who it is before they even have to speak.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hi, Rupert.”

He spins you around gracefully, smiling at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“You look ravishing, as always.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself, you know. You scrub up quite nicely.”

“Oh stop, I’ll start blushing.”

You can’t help but laugh, accepting his arm as he offers it out to you.

“Come on darling, let’s socialise a bit. You can’t stand in the corner forever.”

“I can.”

“Not on my watch.”

He’s dragging you across the floor before you can process what’s happening, people passing by you in blurs of colour and sparkles.

“Dance with me.”

“Is this fun for you? Torturing me?”

“Oh, immensely,” he grins, hands finding your hips.

You reluctantly wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him with a quirked brow.

“Don’t you have a thousand other women you could be dancing with, Rupert?”

He spins you playfully, laughing as you shriek.

“I do, but none of them are nearly as beautiful as you.”

“Oh god,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Does that line usually work?”

“Never on women as smart as you,” he chuckles, swaying you gently.

You stare at him carefully for a moment, realising you know him too well when you instantly see through his carefree facade.

“Ask it, then.”

“Hmm?”

“I know that’s what this is. You’re going to get me all soft and relaxed and tipsy, and then you’ll ask me about Declan. You might as well just cut to the chase, Rupert.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re much too intelligent to think that I believe that.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he tilts his head, getting a good look at you and your unwavering expression.

“Fine, you stubborn woman. Fine. I wanted to ask you about Declan at some point tonight. But only from a place of care and concern, not because I’m going to try to wrangle the two you of back together or anything.”

“Subtlety has never been your strong suit.”

“Forgive me for being confused, alright? You were joined at the hip, and all of a sudden you can’t stand the sight of each other. It’s just so unlike the two of you.”

You sigh deeply, dropping your head forward so it rests on his chest. Rupert’s arms tighten around you, silently letting you know he’s got your back.

“It’s complicated,” you explain, muffled by the material of the man’s shirt. “Stupidly complicated.”

“So complicated that it can never, ever be repaired? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Blimey,” he half gasps, the sound vibrating through the both of you. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day, you bastard.”

Rupert laughs so loudly that people turn their heads to see why, the cadence of it completely infectious. Declan watches from across the room, unable to help himself from at least glancing at the two of you together so cosily.

“He’s currently watching you like some sort of bird of prey,” he informs, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “Whatever it was that happened, it hasn’t erased the fact that he cares about you. A lot. And I know for a fact you care about him.”

“Of course I do.”

“There we go then. Surely it’s nothing that can’t be solved with a bit of good old fashioned communication.”

“You’re a terrible communicator,” you argue.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head as you both sway to the music once again.

“If I had a pound for every time that applied to you, Rupert, I’d be a fucking millionaire.”

He twirls you outwards quickly, watching as the skirt of your dress billows with the breeze of the action.

“And if I had a pound for every time Declan has pretended to stare interestedly around the room this evening just so he has an excuse to look at you, I’d be a millionaire too.”

You ignore the way your heartbeat picks up at his words, choosing instead to focus on the steady rhythm of the music from the piano that fills the space.

“Maybe he’s looking at you.”

“No, Lucky. He’s always looking at you.”

You sigh in resignation, fingers fiddling with Rupert’s collar as you straighten out his tie.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to respond to that.”

“You’re practically his right arm. This separation, whatever its cause, is doing both of you more harm than good. I don’t want to push you darling, because that isn’t fair - but just think about everything I’ve said, alright?”

He stares at you expectantly, brows raised in questioning.

“Alright.”

The grin on his face is almost blinding, beaming out in all directions.

“Now, you look too beautiful to stand on the fringes. I will dance with you all night if I have to, if it means showing off this stunning dress of yours.”

“So charming,” you smile, shaking your head. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse, isn’t it?”

“You’d be stupid to,” he winks, still grinning like the devil.

You let him lead you further into the middle of the dance floor, chuckling as he spins you as you go. Your hand has just slipped into Rupert’s once more when you’re both startled by a crash coming from the other side of the room.

The two of you whip your heads around towards the source of the commotion, to see two men in undoubtedly expensive suits brawling with each other. One of them is throwing punches while the other can do nothing but take them, merciless at his opponents hands. Some people are shouting and screaming, trying to physically separate them, while others turn a complete blind eye to the ruckus.

“Fuck,” Rupert mutters, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the scene.

You’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing when you’re pushed forwards and given a clearer view of what’s in front of you, understanding Rupert’s panic immediately.

Ginger is on the floor. Declan is standing above him with bloody knuckles.

“Fuck,” you repeat.

You want to run in the other direction, desperate to not be involved with the drama. And then you look at Declan - the way he’s falling apart at the seams, nerves ruined and adrenaline rushing through his veins, clearly on the edge of something awful… and all of a sudden you’re walking towards the brawl, logic be damned.

There’s so much noise surrounding you that you can’t hear yourself think. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding against your ribcage in your sudden determination to get to the Irishman.

You’re yelling his name without even realising you’re doing it, shouting at the top of your lungs to fight over the commotion.

“Declan! Oh for fuck sake… Declan!”

Your voice somehow breaks through the noise like a sirens call, the familiar melody of it finding his ears like his favourite song. His eyes finally meet yours, and the rest of the room melts away.

You have a conversation without saying anything, so many words exchanged in such a short amount of time. The two of you have always been good at this - communicating in your own language, silently and easily.

You grab his injured hand and intertwine your fingers with his, pulling him away from the scene of the crime with determination. You cast a look back to Ginger, who remains on the floor with blood dripping from his nose, before dragging Declan through the crowd and towards the front door of the huge Manor House. You can hear Rupert trying to mitigate the situation as you leave, using his charm as he does best.

You make your way outside, yanking the man behind you in your path without so much of a glance backwards. You trudge through the gardens in your heels, ignoring the way the dewy grass brushes across the tops of your feet occasionally. Finally, after walking for what feels like hours but was actually mere minutes, you come across a bench, sheltered by an old stone wall and neatly trimmed hedges.

You shove him to sit down, still refusing to look him in the eye. Neither of you say anything, the evening breeze and two sets of lungs heaving all that can be heard.

“What happened?” you whisper eventually, reluctant to disturb the peace. “Who started it?”

Declan looks surprised that you’re speaking to him, failing to hide the shock on his face.

“Will ya sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore, remember?” you half joke, sitting down anyway.

“Funny,” he says, completely deadpan. He looks at you carefully for a long moment, before continuing. “It was Ginger, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time with him otherwise.”

“What did he say?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Matters to me.”

“Well it shouldn’t.”

“Right.”

You stare at your shoes, wondering why you even bothered to rescue him back in the ballroom.

“Fuck this, then,” you mutter as you stand up to leave.

A hand wraps around your wrist as quick as a flash, pulling you back to sit down where you were.

“No. You don’t get to just walk away from me, not again.”

“Tell me what Ginger said.”

“Tell me why you quit workin’ for me.”

“I already did.”

“Liar. You gave me a poor excuse that’s absolute bollocks. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“That’s your problem, then.”

“Yes, it is.”

You stare at him, completely exasperated by the events of the last hour.

“You can’t just punch people at galas, Declan. It’s a bad look for you, for Venturer, and for every member of staff that relies on you.”

“I know.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

He scrubs his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with both you and the situation at hand.

“He made some horrible comment about you. I fell right into his trap too, like a bull and a fuckin’ red scarf.”

“What did he say?”

He hesitates for a moment.

“Just… something crude about you sleepin’ with me to get to where you are. Called me a cradle snatcher, too.”

“You can’t be a cradle snatcher if I’m a grown woman.”

“Exactly. And it’s not true, anyway. We all know that.”

“So why did you hit him, then? If we all know it’s not true?”

Declan sighs, fatigue painting the sound.

“Because no one gets to speak about you like that with no consequence. And because I was angry.”

“At me.”

“At you. Yes.”

You fiddle with your fingers, entirely unprepared for the fact that you’re about to have the one conversation you’ve been completely avoiding.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” you begin. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”

“Then what did you mean to happen, Lucky? Did you think that you could just up and quit with absolutely no warning, without a problem? That I’d just let you walk out? Did ya think I’d help you pack your things?”

“Obviously not,” you whisper. “I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not. Which is why I know that you thought about that decision long and hard. And that’s what I can’t seem to wrap my head around.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes, clearly desperate to resolve the issues between you.

“Please, Lucky.”

His voice is cracking just like his heart, breaking down the middle to allow all of his emotions to spill out onto the grass. You’ve never heard him sound like this. You hate it.

“I had to, Declan. For both of our sakes.”

“For fuck sake, can you cut it out?” he snaps, volume raising.

“Cut what out?”

“Speaking in these fucking riddles! I can’t even pretend that I have any idea what you’re talkin’ about. Please, whatever it is, however terrible you think it is… I just need you to say it. We’ll deal with the consequences. But I can’t keep goin’ around in circles, dancing around the subject constantly.”

You take a deep breath, bottom lip wobbling as you will yourself not to cry. You’re well and truly at the end of your tether, unsure of how much more you can take - or how much you want to. Deciding to throw caution into the wind, you exhale carefully before turning to face the man next to you.

“You’ll hate me. When I tell you.”

“I could never hate you. Never, Lucky.”

You get lost in your own head for a moment, staring off into space as you debate the best way to go about this. A large hand finds its way into your knee, comforting and grounding. His thumb rubs patterns into your skin where the slit of your dress is, warming you up from the outside in.

“I thought about it for a long time,” you begin. “A long time. Because being your assistant is the best job I have ever had, or will ever have. It was a dream, Declan. Even when we had a tough day, or week, or month, I always knew we’d be okay.”

He nods, his full attention on you.

“We were comfortable, me and you. Maybe a little too comfortable for a boss and his assistant, but in a good way, I think. I was settled, with you.”

He squeezes your thigh, urging you to continue.

“But then, I think we got too settled. People started to notice - which doesn’t matter, but they did nonetheless. I was sleeping over at your house, staying awake with you until the early hours, attending galas and events as your date. And I wasn’t sure what it was - the thing that was bothering me - until one day, it clicked.”

“Lucky…” he whispers, desperate for you to spit it out.

“I’m in love with you.”

The two of you sit the silence for a moment, listening to the breeze softly whip around you.

“That’s what clicked. And that’s why I quit. Because it felt like a conflict of interest, like a… betrayal.”

“A betrayal?”

“Yes. Like I was taking advantage, or something. And I didn’t think it was fair, for you, having me pining over you at work. I didn’t want you to feel pity for me, if you noticed eventually - I hated the idea of being treated differently by you, all through fault of my own. So I quit to get ahead of it.”

“Are ya done?”

“I, uh… yes?”

“Great.”

Declan surges forward, smashing his lips to yours with the most passion than you’ve ever experienced in your life. One of his hands tangles in your hair as the other cradles your face, pulling you as close as he physically can. His tongue slips into your mouth cheekily, allowing you to taste whiskey, cigarettes and the cool night air. Eventually, when you both need to breathe, he pulls away reluctantly, resting his forehead on yours.

“Did you do that to make me shut up?” you murmur, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“Yes and no.”

He’s grinning like the devil, chuckling as the palms of his hands find your cheeks.

“Yes and no?”

“Yes and no. I took the action needed to stop you rambling. But I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time.”

“… What?”

“Why do you think we got so comfortable, Lucky? It works two ways. You were just the only one brave enough to make a change - even if it was the completely wrong thing to do.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

“The opposite,” he laughs. “I can’t remember when it happened. I woke up one day and I just knew. And I knew that you’d never feel the same way, but I love being around you so much that I was willing to make that sacrifice. So I was a coward, and I stayed silent.”

“We’ve made this complicated. Too complicated.”

“Much too complicated.”

“But… it is. You were my boss, and you’re older than me, and I’m good friends with Taggie now, and-”

Declan kisses you again, sweeter this time.

“We can figure it out, Lucky. You know we can.”

“Maybe,” you whisper.

“And I want you to come back to work.”

“Declan-”

“I’m serious. I cannot cope without you. I will never find an assistant as good as you, and quite frankly, I don’t want to. I want you. No one else.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a conflict of interest, like I said earlier.”

“But it isn’t. Not anymore. Before all of this, we were two people in love working together. And when you come back, we’ll be two people in love working together.”

You can’t find it in you to argue, realising that he’s actually making a good point. If anything, it should be easier now that you’ve both communicated your feelings - no more skeletons in the closet.

“Tell me you don’t miss it,” he provokes. “Tell me you’re not even remotely tempted to come back.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly.”

You take a deep breath, moving the hair away from his eyes tenderly.

“I’ll think about it, alright? I’ll have a think when I go home.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He smiles like the cat that’s got the cream, entirely too satisfied with the outcome of this conversation.

“I know we’re in uncharted territory here, Lucky. But we can figure it out. You know we can.”

“I know. It’ll be hard, but… I know.”

You lean up to kiss him softly, sighing as your eyes drift closed. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pulls you closer, trying to plaster every inch of his body to yours.

You lose yourself in everything Declan - the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he feels underneath your fingertips. You want to strip him bare right here and memorise every curve of his muscles, every line in his skin, every mark on his face.

His hand slips further and further up the slit of your dress, gripping at your thigh as if he’s worried you’ll slip away. You’re half in his lap, draped over him on the bench as he still pulls you impossibly closer.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he whispers against your throat. “Every. Single. Night.”

He kisses his way along your neck, revelling in the way you squirm at the feeling of his moustache on your skin. You grab fistfuls of his white shirt, crumpling it in your hands to try and give yourself some sort of anchor.

When Declan’s fingertips slip into your underwear, all you can do is sigh, resigned to the fact that you’d let him do absolutely anything he wanted in this current moment.

“We’re in public,” you protest weakly, both of you knowing you don’t want him to stop.

“We’re at the bottom of the garden, surrounded by three hedges and a wall. If anyone sees, that’s their fault.”

You drop your head forward onto his shoulder, parting your legs to give him a better angle. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels just how aroused you are, practically vibrating with want.

“Are ya this wet f’me?”

You nod against his shirt, not trusting your voice.

“Oh, sweetheart. Well I can’t leave you like this, can I? That’d be cruel.”

He pulls your underwear to the side fully so he can slip a finger into you with ease, both of you groaning at the sensation. Sliding a second one in, you hold onto him for dear life, panting like you’ve run a marathon.

“Please,” you whisper. “Declan, please.”

“I’ll do anything to hear you say my name like that again, Lucky. Anything in the world.”

“Declan.”

He sets a steady pace, crooking his fingers as he goes to make sure you see stars. Your eyes are rolling back, lip caught between your teeth to stifle any sounds that threaten to escape.

“God, I wish I could hear how pretty you sound,” he groans, looking at you intently. “You can make as much noise as you want when I take you home. Promise.”

You whimper softly, bucking your hips up to meet his rhythm. The bench is cold underneath you, the air turning chilly, but neither of you pay any mind to it. You’re too far gone to care.

You grab Declan’s other hand and stick two of his fingers in your mouth, laving your tongue around them to keep you quiet. He moans at the sight, all deep and rumbled, the sound reverberating through both of you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

All you can do is look at him with big, bright eyes, pleading with him silently to finish the job at hand.

“You want me to make you come, sweetheart? That it?”

When you nod, he picks up the pace of his fingers, thumb pressing circles into your clit.

“Have ya thought about this? In bed, alone, getting yourself off in the dark?”

You whine at his words, nodding your head in answer.

“That’s a good girl. Come for me, sweetheart. Come for me and I’ll take you home and fuck you properly, yeah?”

You see stars as you climax, gripping onto his shirt and his hand for dear life. He works you through it, murmuring filthy promises into your ear as he does it.

Lifting his fingers from between your thighs, he pops them straight into his mouth, both of you groaning in unison.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against your lips, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Perfect girl.”

You shuffle sideways so you’re pressed into Declan’s side, two strong arms encircling you immediately.

“Thank you.”

“For the orgasm?”

“Yes and no,” you laugh. “For listening to me. I’ve been going insane trying to think about what I’d say to you if I got the chance to explain myself, but no words seemed to suffice.”

“I just wish you’d talked to me sooner, sweetheart. I’ve been going insane trying to get through life without you. Not to mention that office is chaos.”

You laugh gently, cuddling into him and his warmth.

“I’ll fix it on Monday.”

“Yeah? For definite?” he asks, hope colouring his voice.

“Yeah. Like I said - best job I’ve ever had.”

“You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, sweetheart.”

You grin as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, all soft and sugary sweet.

“Besides. Someone’s going to have to sort out the inevitable mess that’ll follow you hitting Ginger at a charity gala.”

“Ah, I forgot about that,” he laughs, planting a kiss into your hair. “What would I do without ya, hmm?”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you smile, resting your head onto his shoulder. “Never again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You sit on the bench for a little while longer, both of you looking up at the stars that paint the sky in a canopy above your heads. You’re quite convinced you could stay like this forever, just the two of you in your own little universe.

There’s paperwork to be done, meetings to be had, deals to be made. But all of that can wait.

Right now, it’s just you and Declan.

The way it should be.

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