#MR. M. WARD

[mistertonyward]

Tony Ward (@tony_ward_official) for @brunellocucinelli_brand

Film by @hunterandgatti

[021894s]

SIMS ANATOMY - JAKE SIM

SYNOPSIS: you, a top cardiac surgeon, find yourself increasingly frustrated by the distraction over the hospital’s new head of neurosurgery, Dr. Jake Sim. Despite your initial annoyance, you can't help but notice Jake's charm and undeniable skills. As you keep running into each other, Jake’s persistent yet respectful flirtations begin to break through your professional exterior.

PAIRING: neurosurgeon! jake x cardio surgeon! reader

GENRE: workplace romance, situationship

WARNINGS: explicit smut, unprotected sex (don’t), oral (m and f receiving), angst, language, MDNI!!

wc: 12k

You step out of the OR, still riding the adrenaline high from the successful triple bypass surgery you just completed. The intricate dance of sutures and clamps still echoes in your mind as you head towards the nurses' station to update your patient's chart. You’ve always prided yourself on your precision and dedication, and today was no exception.

As you settle into the chair, logging into the system, you can't help but overhear snippets of conversation from the nearby nurses. Their voices are hushed but excited, and despite yourself, your ears prick up at the mention of a new doctor.

"Oh my god, have you seen Dr. Sim yet?" one nurse gushes, her voice practically dripping with admiration. "He's the new head of neuro. I can't believe he's not married with kids."

"Seriously, he's so handsome," another chimes in. "I thought doctors like him only existed in movies."

You roll your eyes internally, feeling a twinge of annoyance. These nurses should be focusing on their patients, not swooning over some new doctor. You know the type—charming, overconfident, used to turning heads wherever he goes. You’ve seen it a hundred times. It’s frustrating to think that professional women, who you’ve seen handle the toughest of medical crises with unflinching composure, could be so easily distracted by a pretty face.

"He smiled at me in the break room," another voice adds, dreamy and far away. "I nearly melted."

You resist the urge to scoff out loud. Instead, you channel your irritation into the chart in front of you, updating the post-op notes with meticulous detail. Your patient, Mr. Harrison, came through the surgery well, and you want to ensure there are no loose ends in his care plan. His vitals are stable, and the grafts look good. You make a note to check on him in an hour.

The chatter continues unabated. "I heard he’s a genius in the OR," someone says. "Apparently, he’s revolutionized some new technique in neurosurgery."

"Brains and looks? Not fair," another nurse quips, and they all dissolve into giggles.

You finish charting, your irritation only growing. It’s not that you begrudge the nurses their moment of levity—being a nurse is hard, often thankless work, and they deserve a bit of fun. But the object of their admiration rubs you the wrong way. You’ve had to work twice as hard to be taken seriously in a male-dominated field, and the idea of a doctor coasting on his looks and charm irks you.

Shaking your head slightly, you stand up and grab the chart. There’s still a lot to do, and you don’t have time to dwell on some pretty boy neurosurgeon. If he’s really as good as they say, you’ll see for yourself soon enough. And if not, well, you’ve never had a problem putting overconfident doctors in their place.

As you walk away from the nurses' station, you hear one last wistful sigh. "I can't wait to see him in action."

Neither can you, you think, but for entirely different reasons.

You step out of the OR, mind still buzzing with the details of the successful valve replacement surgery you just completed. you head to the cardiac unit to check on post-op patients, but something feels off. The usually bustling ward is eerily quiet, with only one nurse, Olivia, stationed at the desk.

“Olivia,” you calls out, her voice cutting through the silence. “Where is everyone?”

Olivia looks up, a hint of guilt flashing in her eyes. “They’re at lunch,” she replies a little too quickly, her tone unconvincing.

you narrows her eyes, knowing Olivia well enough to sense when she’s not telling the full truth. “Olivia...” you say in a stern voice, crossing your arms.

Olivia shifts uncomfortably under your gaze. “Okay, fine,” she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “They’re in OR 2’s gallery.”

Confusion flickers across your face. “Why would they be in the gallery?” you ask, your irritation growing.

“Dr. Sim is clipping an aneurysm,” Olivia admits, unable to meet your eyes.

That’s all you need to know, storming off towards the gallery, your footsteps echoing through the hallways. The idea of your nurses neglecting their duties to watch a surgery infuriates your. Jake’s presence in the hospital had already been a source of frustration, and now he was serving as a distraction for your team.

Reaching the gallery, you push open the door and stride in, your eyes scanning the crowd of nurses huddled around the glass, their attention glued to the procedure below. you spot Jake in the OR, skillfully clipping the aneurysm, his focus unwavering.

“What is going on here?” you demand, voice slicing through the murmurs. The nurses jump, turning to face you with wide eyes. “Why are you all here instead of attending to your patients?”

One of the nurses, Carla, steps forward, stammering. “We... we just wanted to see Dr. Sim’s technique. It’s supposed to be groundbreaking.”

your glare is icy. “I don’t care how groundbreaking it is. Your patients come first. Get back to your stations, now.”

The nurses scurry out, their heads bowed in embarrassment. you watch them go, your anger simmering. Jake’s impressive skills might have captivated your team, but to you, he was nothing more than a distraction. you couldn’t afford to have the nurses slacking off, not when lives depended on their diligence.

you turn back to the OR, eyes locking onto Jake. For a brief moment, your gazes meet through the glass, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps? Or was it amusement? Shaking off the thought, you storm out of the gallery, determined to keep your team on track and your own frustrations with Jake in check.

You catch sight of Jake coming out of the OR, his surgical cap still on and his scrubs marked with the evidence of a long, intense procedure. He’s engrossed in conversation with another surgeon, but as you approach, he looks up and meets your gaze.

“You must be Dr. Sim,” you say, your voice firm.

Jake smiles, wiping his hands with a towel. “Dr. Y/L/N, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I could say the same about you,” you reply, not missing a beat. “Seeing as you’re the reason my nurses are disappearing during their shifts to watch this so-called groundbreaking technique of yours.”

His smile falters slightly, and he raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize my surgeries were causing any issues. I’m sorry if they’ve been a distraction.”

“They have,” you state bluntly, crossing your arms. “My team’s focus should be on their patients, not on observing other procedures or a certain brain surgeon, no matter how impressive they might be.”

Jake’s lips curl into a playful grin. “Oh, so you think I’m impressive?”

You feel a flush of annoyance, typical behavior for a neurosurgeon, always so full of themselves. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it,” he teases, taking a step closer. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to maintain your stern demeanor. “My team doesn’t have time for distractions, Dr. Sim.”

“Fair enough,” he replies, his tone still light but his expression more serious. “I understand, and I’ll make sure to address it with the staff. I didn’t mean to disrupt the unit.”

You study him for a moment, gauging his sincerity. Despite your irritation, there’s something about his demeanor that disarms you slightly. You can’t help but notice his deep brown eyes, plump lips, and the way his Australian accent is way more attractive than it should be. You understand, in that moment, why the nurses might be so captivated.

“Good,” you say, your tone softening just a touch. “I appreciate that.”

Jake smiles again, this time a bit more warmly. “And if it’s any consolation, your reputation as a top cardiac surgeon is well-deserved. I look forward to working alongside you.”

“Likewise,” you reply, giving him a curt nod before turning to leave. As you walk away, you can’t shake the mixture of irritation and intrigue. Jake Sim might be causing headaches for your unit, but there’s no denying his skill and charm. You just hope he proves to be more than just a distraction.

A few days later, you find yourself in the hospital’s busy hallway, reviewing patient charts on your tablet. The hum of activity around you is a comforting backdrop until a familiar voice interrupts your focus.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” Jake calls out, his voice carrying that unmistakable Australian lilt. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You look up, and there he is, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Dr. Sim,” you acknowledge with a nod, trying to keep your tone neutral. “What can I do for you?”

“Just thought I’d say hello,” he replies, pushing off the wall and sauntering over to you. “And maybe ask how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you respond, keeping your eyes on your tablet.

“Busy as usual, I see,” he notes, glancing at the screen. “You ever take a break?”

“Breaks are for people who don’t have critical patients to tend to,” you reply, not looking up.

He chuckles, the sound warm and annoyingly pleasant. “You know, there’s more to life than work. Maybe you need someone to remind you of that.”

You finally look up, raising an eyebrow. “And I suppose you think you’re that someone?”

“Could be,” he says with a confident grin. “I mean, who better to show you the lighter side of things?”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “You’re quite sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Confidence is a necessity in our line of work,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “But I’ve heard it helps in other areas too.”

“Oh really? Like what?” you ask, despite yourself.

He leans in a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Like convincing brilliant surgeons to step out of their comfort zones once in a while.”

You scoff lightly, shaking your head. “I don’t need convincing, Dr. Sim. I have my priorities straight.”

“Of course you do,” he replies smoothly. “But even the best of us need a break sometimes. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you out. Just offering a bit of friendly advice.”

You look at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious. “Friendly advice, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a wink. “Think of it as a, professional courtesy.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite your best efforts to stay stern. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I get that a lot,” he says, flashing that infuriatingly charming smile. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to saving lives. But if you ever need a reminder of what fun looks like, you know where to find me.”

later that day, the hospital corridors are quieter than usual as you make your way to the elevators, finally heading home after a long shift. The soft hum of the building is almost soothing after the constant noise of the OR. You press the button and wait, your mind already shifting to thoughts of a hot shower and some much-needed sleep.

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you see Jake standing inside, leaning against the back wall, his expression relaxed but alert. He looks up and his face lights up with a familiar, playful smile.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets, stepping aside to make room for you. “Heading home too?”

“Dr. Sim,” you reply, stepping in and pressing the button for the ground floor. “Looks like it.”

The doors close, and the elevator begins its descent. The enclosed space suddenly feels a bit smaller with the two of you in it.

“Long day?” he asks, glancing over at you.

“You could say that,” you respond, leaning back against the wall. “You?”

“Same here,” he says, a hint of fatigue creeping into his voice. “But it’s all part of the job, right?”

You nod, a brief silence settling between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s an unspoken tension, a mix of mutual respect and something else you can’t quite put your finger on.

“So,” Jake breaks the silence, a teasing note in his voice. “Any plans for the evening? Or are you one of those surgeons who lives and breathes work even at home?”

You raise an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And what about you? Do you have a life outside the hospital, Dr. Sim?”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and genuine. “I try to, when I’m not dealing with brain surgery. But I’ll admit, it’s a challenge. The job can be all-consuming.”

“Tell me about it,” you agree, your tone more relaxed now. “Sometimes it feels like there’s no room for anything else.”

“Maybe that’s why it’s important to find some balance,” he says, his voice sincere. “Even if it’s just little moments here and there.”

You look at him, considering his words. There’s more to Jake than the cocky, flirtatious persona he often projects. “I suppose you’re right.”

The elevator dings again, signaling your arrival at the ground floor. As the doors open, you both step out into the lobby, the cool night air from outside brushing against your skin.

“Need a ride?” Jake offers, his tone casual but there’s a glint of genuine concern in his eyes. “It’s pretty late.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you reply, appreciating the offer but not ready to blur those professional lines just yet. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Count on it,” he says with a wink. “Have a good night, Dr. Y/L/N.”

“You too, Dr. Sim,” you respond, turning to head towards your car.

As you walk away, you can’t help but feel a strange mix of irritation and curiosity. Jake Sim might be a distraction, but there’s no denying that he’s also starting to become a presence you can’t quite ignore. And maybe, just maybe, that’s not entirely a bad thing.

The next day, you find yourself scrubbing in for a complex procedure. Today’s case is a particularly challenging one: a patient with both a severe cardiac condition and a cerebral aneurysm, requiring the combined expertise of both cardiac and neuro specialists. As you meticulously scrub your hands and arms, you hear the familiar voice of Jake Sim beside you.

“Looks like we’re working together today,” he says, his tone a mix of professionalism and that signature playful edge.

You glance over, meeting his eyes. “Seems like it. Ready for this?”

“Always,” he replies, his confident smile never wavering. “I’ve been looking forward to this case. It’s not every day we get to tackle something this intricate together.”

You nod, appreciating his enthusiasm despite your initial reservations about him. “Agreed. The patient’s condition is precarious. We need to be perfectly in sync.”

Jake gives you a serious nod, his demeanor shifting. “Absolutely. Let’s make sure we give them the best outcome possible.”

You both finish scrubbing in and enter the OR, where the patient is already prepped and waiting. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of tension and anticipation, the surgical team moving with practiced precision. As you take your place on one side of the patient, Jake positions himself on the other, eyes meeting over the sterile field.

“Ready to start?” you ask, your voice steady and focused.

“Ready,” Jake confirms, his expression equally determined.

The surgery begins, and the OR fills with the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the soft hum of machinery. You work methodically, your hands moving with practiced precision as you navigate the complex landscape of the patient’s heart. Jake mirrors your concentration, his focus unbroken as he tackles the aneurysm with equal skill.

“Forceps,” you request, your voice calm and controlled.

“Here,” the scrub nurse says, passing the instrument with a fluid motion. “How’s the heart looking?” jake asks

“Stable,” you reply, glancing up briefly to meet his eyes. “How about the aneurysm?”

“It’s going well,” he answers, his tone steady. “We’re almost there.”

As the surgery progresses, you find yourselves falling into a natural rhythm, your movements synchronized in a way that surprises you. There’s a subtle, unspoken understanding between you, each anticipating the other’s needs and adjustments.

“Nice work on that bypass,” Jake comments, his tone genuinely appreciative.

“Thanks,” you reply, a small smile forming behind your mask. “Your precision with the aneurysm is impressive.”

“Coming from you, that means a lot,” he says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice.

Hours pass, but the intensity of your focus never wanes. Finally, as the last suture is placed and the patient’s vitals stabilize, you both step back, a sense of accomplishment settling over you.

“Great job, everyone,” you say to the team, who respond with nods and murmurs of agreement.

Jake meets your eyes, his expression one of respect and something more. “We make a good team, Dr. Y/L/N.”

You nod, feeling a surprising sense of camaraderie. “We do, Dr. Sim. Let’s hope the patient has a smooth recovery.”

As you step out of the OR and begin the process of de-scrubbing, you can’t help but reflect on the day’s events. Working alongside Jake, seeing his skill and dedication firsthand, has shifted your perspective. He’s still cocky, still flirty, but there’s depth and talent beneath that exterior.

“Drinks tonight to celebrate?” Jake asks, a teasing glint in his eye as you both head towards the locker rooms.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe another time, Dr. Sim. But good work today.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, dropping the formalities for a moment. “Seriously, it was an honor working with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” you admit, giving him a genuine smile before heading off to change.

The next few weeks bring more opportunities for you and Jake to work together, and each collaboration reveals another layer of his skill and personality. Despite his initial cockiness, Jake proves to be a dedicated and talented surgeon, and you begin to see him in a new light. The more time you spend together in the OR, the more you find yourself appreciating his expertise and even enjoying his company.

One evening, you find yourself finishing up some paperwork in the quiet cardiac unit. The day had been long, but fulfilling, with several successful surgeries under your belt. As you look up from your desk, you see Jake approaching, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Hey," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "You still here?"

"Just wrapping up," you reply, setting aside your pen. "What about you?"

"Same," he says, stepping into your office. "I was going to head out, but I thought I'd check in on you first."

"Checking in on me, huh?" you say with a hint of amusement. "What for?"

"Well, I was thinking," he starts, a bit more serious than usual. "We've been working together a lot lately, and I wanted to say thank you. For trusting me in the OR and for being an amazing colleague."

You feel a warm glow at his words, appreciating the sincerity behind them. "Thank you, Jake. You've been a great partner in the OR. I couldn't have asked for a better neurosurgeon to collaborate with."

Jake smiles, the familiar twinkle returning to his eyes. "You know, I think we make a pretty good team."

"I think so too," you admit, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's been nice, working with you."

"Nice, huh?" he teases, his playful side emerging once more. "I'll take that as a high compliment coming from you."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Don't let it go to your head, Sim."

He chuckles, but his expression soon turns more contemplative. "You know, I've been thinking about what I said the other day. About balance and taking breaks. It's something I'm not great at either."

"a little hypocritical to be giving me advice then no?," you reply, your tone light but teasing. "It's hard to switch off when our work is so demanding."

"Exactly," he agrees. "But I've realized that maybe we could help each other with that. Maybe we could find a way to balance things out a bit more."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"How about we start with something simple?" he suggests. "Like taking a real break. Maybe grab a coffee together, no work talk allowed. Just two colleagues, taking a breather."

You consider his offer, the idea surprisingly appealing. "Alright, Dr. Sim. Coffee sounds good."

Jake's smile widens, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Great. Tomorrow morning, then? Before our rounds?"

"Tomorrow morning," you agree, feeling a flutter of anticipation.

The next morning, you find yourself at the hospital’s small café, waiting for Jake. The early hour means the space is quiet, with only a few other staff members milling about. When Jake arrives, he’s carrying two steaming cups of coffee, a smile on his face.

“Good morning,” he greets, handing you a cup. “Thought I’d get us a head start.”

“Thanks,” you say, accepting the coffee and taking a sip. “So, what’s on your mind, Dr. Sim?”

“Just enjoying the company,” he replies, sitting down across from you. “And maybe getting to know the person behind the scalpel a little better.”

You chuckle, feeling a bit more at ease. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

“Let’s start simple,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “What do you do when you’re not saving lives?”

You think for a moment, realizing how rare it is for you to talk about anything other than work. “I like to read, mostly. And sometimes I go for a run. It helps clear my head.”

“Sounds nice,” he says, nodding. “I’m more of a swimmer myself. It’s the one thing that keeps me sane outside the OR.”

“Swimming, huh?” you ask, surprised. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a swimmer.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Y/N,” he says, his tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness.

“Maybe,” you admit, feeling a strange curiosity about him. “But I’m starting to think I’d like to find out.”

The conversation flows easily, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying the time with Jake. As you talk, you see different sides of him—his passion for his work, his dedication to his patients, and even a vulnerable side that he rarely shows.

When it’s time to head back to your respective departments, you feel a sense of connection that wasn’t there before. Maybe Jake Sim is more than just a distraction. Maybe he’s someone worth getting to know.

As you part ways, he gives you a warm smile. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time,” you agree, already looking forward to it.

And so, a new routine begins. Coffee in the mornings, shared surgeries, and increasingly personal conversations. The barriers you once held up start to crumble, and you find yourself drawn to Jake in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

Weeks pass, and the connection between you grows stronger. One evening, after another successful surgery, Jake catches up to you in the hallway.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” you reply, curious.

“I was thinking,” he starts, looking a bit nervous for the first time. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. I’d like to take you out for dinner. No work, just us.”

You feel a flutter of surprise and anticipation. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “What do you say?”

You consider for a moment, then nod. “Alright, Jake. Dinner sounds good.”

As he walks away, you can’t help but smile.

The evening of your date arrives, and you’re both excited and a bit nervous. You’ve chosen a smart but casual outfit, and after a final check in the mirror, you’re ready. Your heart flutters with anticipation as you hear the sound of a car pulling up outside your apartment.

When you open the door, Jake is standing there, looking effortlessly charming in a blazer and jeans. His eyes light up as he sees you, and he smiles warmly.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he says with a grin. “You look pretty.”

“Thank you, Dr. Sim,” you reply with a smile, feeling a bit flustered. “You look pretty sharp yourself.”

He gestures to the car parked behind him. “Shall we?”

You nod and follow him down to the car. As you slide into the passenger seat, Jake starts the engine and glances over with a playful smile.

“So, are you ready for an evening of fine dining and even finer conversation?” he asks, his tone light and teasing.

“I’m definitely looking forward to it,” you reply, settling into the seat and feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity.

As he drives, the conversation flows easily. Jake talks about his day and a recent surgery he performed, and you share some anecdotes from your own work. The drive is filled with laughter and engaging conversation, making you feel more at ease.

When you arrive at the restaurant, Jake parks and opens the door for you, offering his hand to help you out. The restaurant is a cozy bistro with warm lighting and a relaxed atmosphere. Jake leads you inside and to your reserved table, which is positioned by a window with a view of the city lights.

“This place looks lovely,” you say as you take your seat, admiring the ambiance.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jake replies, settling into his chair across from you. “I thought it would be a nice spot for our first dinner out.”

The evening progresses with delightful conversation and delicious food. Jake is attentive and charming, making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself. As you both talk about various topics, you find yourself opening up more than you expected.

At one point, Jake asks, “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the chance to yet?”

You think for a moment, considering the question. “I’ve always wanted to take a cooking class. I love to cook, but I think it would be fun to learn some new techniques and recipes.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Jake says, nodding. “Maybe we could take a class together sometime. I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook Italian cuisine.”

You smile at the thought. “That could be fun. I’d be up for that.”

As the evening progresses, the conversation turns more personal. Jake shares stories about his family and his upbringing in Australia. He talks about the challenges of being far from home and the sacrifices he’s made for his career.

“It’s not always easy being so far away from my family,” Jake admits. “I miss them a lot, especially during the holidays.”

“I can imagine,” you say sympathetically. “My family is close by, and we have our own share of drama, but I’m grateful for their support.”

Jake nods, appreciating your understanding. “Family can be complicated, but it’s important to have that support system.”

You both continue to share personal stories and insights, finding common ground in your experiences. By the end of the evening, you feel a genuine connection with Jake, one that goes beyond professional respect.

When the check arrives, Jake insists on paying. “It’s my treat tonight,” he says with a smile. “Consider it a small thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you, Jake,” you reply, feeling touched by his gesture. “I really appreciate it.”

. The night air is crisp and refreshing, and the drive home is filled with easy conversation. When you arrive at your apartment, Jake parks and turns to you with a hopeful expression.

“I had a great time tonight,” he says softly. “I hope you did too.”

“I did,” you reply with a smile. “Thank you for such a lovely evening.”

you hesitate for a moment, then look at jake with a warm smile. “Would you like to come up? Maybe just hang out and talk some more?”

he considers the offer, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity. “That sounds nice. I’d love to.”

He smiles and follows you up to your apartment. As you enter, the space feels even more welcoming with the soft lighting and cozy atmosphere. You both get comfortable on the couch with drinks, and the conversation continues to flow effortlessly.

You find yourselves talking about everything from past relationships to future aspirations. As the conversation flows, Jake starts to open up about his past relationships. “You know, I’ve had my fair share of relationships that didn’t work out. One of the biggest challenges was balancing the demands of work and personal life. It’s not easy to find someone who understands the hours and the emotional toll.”

“I get that,” you say sympathetically. “It’s hard to maintain a relationship when your job takes up so much of your time and energy. My last relationship ended for similar reasons.”

Jake looks at you with genuine curiosity. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, reflecting on your past. “We were together for a few years, and it started out great. But as time went on, he couldn’t handle the unpredictability of my schedule and the stress of my job. We drifted apart, and eventually, we just grew in different directions.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jake says softly. “It’s never easy to end a relationship, especially when it’s someone you care about.”

“Thanks,” you reply. “It’s part of life, I guess. We both moved on and found our own paths.”

Jake nods, taking a sip of his wine. The easy conversation slows, a new, more, intimate silence settling between the two of you.

Jake shifts slightly, closing the gap between you. his eyes locked on yours. you could feel the heat radiating off his body, and you suddenly felt very aware of your own. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

your heart raced as Jake leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. you responded eagerly, parting your lips to allow his tongue to explore your mouth. you could feel the heat building between you as you kissed, your bodies pressed together.

Jake's hands began to wander, tracing patterns on your back. you could feel his fingers brushing against the zipper of your dress, and you shivered with anticipation.

Jake pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "May I?" he asked, his hand hovering over the zipper.

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps. Jake slowly unzipped the dress, his fingers brushing against your skin as he did so. You felt a thrill run through your body as the dress fell to the floor, leaving her standing in just your matching black bra and panties.

Jake's eyes roamed over yourbody, taking in every inch of you. You could feel yourself growing wet as he looked at you, his desire obvious and reflecting your own.

Jake stepped closer to you, his hands reaching out to touch you. You could feel his fingers tracing the lace of your bra, you shivered with pleasure. He leaned in and began to kiss your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

a soft moan escapes as Jake's lips moved down your body, his hands following close behind. “you’re so fucking beautiful” He reached your breasts, his fingers tracing the outline of your nipples through the lace of your bra. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, your body begging for more. “been thinking about this since the first day I saw you”

Jake reached behind You and unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He cupped your tits in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your nipples. You moaned as he touched you, your body responding to his touch.

Jake's mouth moved lower, his lips brushing against your stomach. you could feel his breath against her skin, and she shivered with anticipation. “w-ant you” He reached for your panties, “relax baby I got you”, his fingers tracing the outline of your pussy through the fabric.

you gasp as Jake's fingers slip beneath your panties, his fingers exploring your folds. you could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, your body begging for more.

Jake pulled your panties down, his eyes locked on your pussy, “shit baby, you’re so wet f’me, such a pretty pussy” He leaned in and began to kiss your inner thighs, his lips igniting the heat pooling in your lower belly.

Jakes mouth moved lower, his lips brushing against your pussy. a loud moan leaves your lips as he began to lick at your entrance, your hand instinctively going between your legs to run your fingers through his black locks. “fuck, jake feels so fucking good don’t stop” he hums in response, the vibration going straight to your core.

he’s practically making out with your cunt licking and sucking, his saliva and your juices combined, making a mess on your couch, but that was the last thing on your mind right now. “fuck i’m c-cuming” your orgasm rapidly approaching. “yeah baby cum on my tongue, fuck can’t get enough of you, you taste so sweet”. at his words, your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body shaking with pleasure.

Jake stood up, his eyes locked on yours. you could see the desire in his eyes, and you knew what he wanted. you reached out and unbuttoned his pants, fingers brushing against his hard cock.

Jake stepped out of his pants, his hard cock springing free. while he wasn’t remarkably long, he definitely made up for it in girth. You reached out and wrapped your hand around it, stroking it gently. “ah shit baby” you could feel him growing harder in your hand, your excitement noticable.

he pushed you down onto the couch, climbing on top of you. “condom?” he asked, stopping in his tracks before he gets too ahead of himself. “it’s fine, just put it in” you reach down between you two, taking hold of his length as you begin to guide his cock into your dripping heat. his cock twitches at the thought of feeling you with nothing in between, “fuck, are you sure?”, “yeah, m’on the pill, just fuck me already please” your walls clench around nothing, needing to feel him inside you more than anything.

without another word he slides in. the stinging sensation quickly turning into one of pleasure. your pussy gripping him tightly as he sets a pace that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “so fucking tight, pretty, you’re squeezing me so good. pussy was made for my cock mhm?” you can’t even find the words to reply, the pleasure all too much to even think straight.

“feels so good jake” your words encourage him, his thrusts growing more quick, chasing his release as well as your own. the room is filled moans and the sloppy, wet sounds of his cock pounding into your hole. “s-so close, faster baby, want your cum inside me” you don’t have to tell him twice, his hips snapping into a pace that has you seeing stars.

“cum for me baby, cum on my cock” his hand reaches between you to rub your clit in quick circles, sending you over the edge “fuck! i’m cumming!” your release consumes you, his following not too long after.

he collapses next to you on the tiny couch, the both of you panting and out of breath as you come down from your high. “that was amazing” you turn your head to look at him, his eyes closed from pure euphoria he just experienced. “amazing is an understatement. it was fan fucking tastic” you let out a laugh at his pure honesty, a comfortable silence settling in the room.

he pulls you in by your waist, positioning you so your back is against his chest, a more comfortable position since your couch is definitely not meant for this. “i had a good time tonight” you can’t help the smile that grows on your face “me too”

as if the universe was against you, a beeping noise cuts through the silence, ending your moment. his pager was going off, they probably needed him back at the hospital, the realization of your jobs hitting you like a truck. “way to ruin the moment” he says getting up to check the pager “I gotta go, i’ll see you at work?” you smile at him nodding. he quickly gets dressed and presses a quick peck to your lips “get some rest” he tells you before rushing out the door to make his way to the hospital.

you can’t help but be a little disappointed. The obligation of your job was one of the many reasons you didn’t date, simply because it didn’t work. why did you expect this to be any different?

you drift off into a slumber, too tired to let your thoughts cloud your mind.

The next morning, the hospital is bustling with the usual chaos as you walk through the corridors towards your office. Despite the busy environment, your mind keeps drifting back to the night before with Jake. The memory of his touch, his kisses, and the intimate conversations you shared fills you with a warm, lingering sense of connection.

As you turn the corner, you see Jake standing near the nurses’ station, discussing a case with a colleague. He looks up and catches your eye, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. There’s a new glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a mixture of warmth and mischief.

“Good morning, Dr. Y/L/N,” Jake calls out, his tone playful and a bit louder than necessary, drawing the attention of nearby staff. “Did you sleep well?”

You feel a blush rising but manage to keep your composure. “Good morning, Dr. Sim. I did, thank you. And you?”

“didn’t sleep much, had a lot on my mind,” he replies, his grin widening as he walks over to you. “Must be the excellent company I had last night.”

Several nurses and doctors nearby glance over with curious expressions, but Jake seems unfazed. He stops just a bit too close, his presence commanding your attention. “I was hoping we might catch up over lunch. I’ve been craving some more of those conversations we had.”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting the smile that’s threatening to break through. “Is that so? Well, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

Jake chuckles, leaning in slightly. “You do that. In the meantime, if you need anything at all, you know where to find me.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “Or maybe I should say, you know where to call me.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head at his audacity. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Sim.”

He winks at you before stepping back, returning to his conversation with the colleague but not without a lingering glance over his shoulder.

Throughout the morning, you find yourself running into Jake more often than usual. Each time, he manages to throw in a playful comment or a flirty remark, making it clear that last night’s intimacy has only fueled his interest.

In the break room, you’re pouring a cup of coffee when Jake slips in beside you. “we meet again,” he says, his tone light. “I was just thinking about how good you look in scrubs.”

You roll your eyes but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement. “Really? I’m sure you say that to all the doctors.”

“Only the ones who make a lasting impression,” he replies smoothly, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

Later, while reviewing patient charts at your desk, you receive a text from Jake. It’s a picture of a heart drawn on a napkin, with a message: “Couldn’t help but think of you during rounds.”

You can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. It’s clear that Jake’s flirting isn’t just a passing fancy; there’s a genuine interest and warmth behind his actions that makes your heart skip a beat.

Weeks turn into months, and your relationship with Jake settles into a comfortable, intimate rhythm. Without any formal labels, your connection grows deeper, rooted in shared moments and unspoken understandings. Lunches in the cafeteria become a regular occurrence, interspersed with stolen glances across the OR and late-night encounters that leave you breathless and wanting more.

You find yourself looking forward to these moments, the thrill of sneaking around adding a layer of excitement. During shifts, Jake’s flirtatious comments become a highlight of your day.

One afternoon, you’re in the break room, reviewing patient charts when Jake walks in, his usual confident stride and easy smile making your heart skip a beat. He leans against the counter, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hey, beautiful. Busy?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Always,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the turmoil in your chest.

Jake walks over, his presence commanding your attention. “You look like you could use a break. How about a coffee?”

You glance at the clock, knowing you have a few minutes to spare. “Sure, why not?”

As you walk to the “coffee shop” side by side, jake quickly takes a glance around to make sure no one is watching and pulls you into the on-call room, the tension between you palpable, you can’t help but feel the thrill of anticipation. The moment the door closes behind you, Jake’s hands are on your waist, pulling you close. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s both urgent and tender, a mix of passion and familiarity that leaves you breathless.

“You’ve been on my mind all day,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands roaming over your back.

“you pulled me away for this?” you let out a slight chuckle. “mhm want you so bad” his lips move down to your neck “jake we’re at work.”

your eyes shut closed, enjoying the feeling of his soft, plump lips on that sweet spot behind you ear that he always found instantly. “doors locked, no one’s coming in here” he mutters out.

you give in, your hands immediately going to his pants and undoing the tie on his scrub bottoms. “well in that case, I wanna suck your cock” you whispered, lowering down into your knees in front of him. Jake's eyes widened in surprise, but then he grinned.

"Fuck, yeah," he said, dropping his pants and boxers. His cock was hard and thick, the tip already glistening with precum, your heart pounding with excitement.

you reached out and wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking it gently. Jake groaned and closed his eyes, his head thrown back. you leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock, tasting the salty precum. Jake's groan grew louder as you opened your mouth and took him in, lips sliding down his veiny shaft.

you started to suck, head bobbing up and down as youworked his cock. Jake's hands were in yoir hair, guiding you as you sucked him off. you could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth, his balls tightening as he got closer to cumming.

"yeah, baby," Jake groaned, his hips thrusting forward as he fucked your mouth. "You're gonna make me cum so hard."

You moan around his cock, the sound vibrating through his shaft. You could feel his cock twitching in yourmouth, his balls tightening even more. you continued faster, fingers digging into his thighs as you worked him.

Jake's groans grew louder, his thrusts more urgent. you could feel his cock swelling, his precum flowing freely. you sucked harder, cheeks hollowing as your mouth got him to his release.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Jake groaned, his hips bucking as he came hard in your mouth. You swallowed, throat working as you took every drop of his cum. Jake's hands were in you hair, holding your head as he came, his hips still thrusting as he emptied himself into your mouth.

When he was done, you pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Jake's cock was still hard, but it was starting to soften. You stood up, smiling at him.

"Did you like that?" you asked, voice soft and seductive. Jake grinned, his eyes still glazed with pleasure.

"I loved it," he said, pulling you into a kiss. "That was amazing."

As the weeks went on, you and Jake continued the little rhythm you had set in place. He flirted with you every chance he got. The both of you ending up in each others beds more often than not.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day at the hospital, you’re sitting in your apartment, staring blankly at the schedule in front of you. Your mind keeps drifting back to Jake—the way he looked at you during lunch, the warmth of his hand on your back as he guided you through the crowded cafeteria. The realization hits you like a tidal wave: you’re falling for him. Hard.

It terrifies you.

You’ve always prided yourself on being focused, dedicated, and in control of your emotions. But with Jake, everything feels different. The boundaries you set for yourself are blurring, and you’re not sure if you can handle the implications.

The demands of your job loom heavily over you. The long hours, the constant pressure, and the emotional toll of the medical field leave little room for anything else. As you stare at the schedule for the coming weeks, packed with surgeries and patient consultations, the reality sinks in: maintaining a relationship would be nearly impossible. The thought of trying to juggle your career and a growing emotional commitment to Jake feels overwhelming. After much soul-searching, you come to a difficult conclusion. It’s not fair to him or to yourself to continue something you can’t fully sustain. With a heavy heart, you decide it’s best to end things, believing that stepping back is the only way to preserve the little balance in your life.

The next day, you’re in the break room, trying to focus on patient charts when Jake walks in. He greets you with his usual easy smile, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Hey, what are you up to?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

“just charting, the usual,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the turmoil in your chest.

Jake walks over, his presence commanding your attention. “You wanna step away for a bit and grab lunch with me?”

You hesitate, the words on the tip of your tongue. You want to say yes, but the fear of what it might mean if you keep going down this path holds you back. “Actually, I have a lot to catch up on. Maybe another time.”

Jake’s brow furrows, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

You force a smile, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed with work.”

He doesn’t push, but you can see the worry in his eyes as he nods and leaves you to your charts.

Over the next few days, you start to pull back, keeping your interactions with Jake strictly professional. You avoid the on-call room, decline his offers for lunch, and keep your conversations short and to the point. It’s not easy, and you can see the confusion and hurt in his eyes every time you brush him off.

One evening, you’re leaving the hospital when you run into Jake in the parking lot. He’s leaning against his car, arms crossed, his expression serious.

“Y/N, can we talk?” he asks, his voice a mix of frustration and concern.

You nod, knowing you can’t avoid this conversation forever. “Sure.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me, and I don’t understand why. Did I do something wrong?”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. “No, Jake, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About what we’re doing.”

Jake’s expression softens, and he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “Talk to me, Y/N. What’s going on?”

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the weight of your decision pressing down on you. “I’ve realized that I can’t keep up with a relationship right now. Our jobs are so demanding, and I’m constantly running on empty. I don’t think I can give you the attention and commitment you deserve.”

Jake’s expression shifts from confusion to hurt. “Y/N, I thought we were making this work. Why now? What changed?”

You struggle to keep your voice steady, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “It’s not about you. It’s about me and my inability to balance everything. I’ve been trying to make it work, but I can’t keep up with both my job and a relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Jake’s eyes drop to the floor, and he takes a deep breath, trying to process what you’ve said. “So, this is it? You’re just… ending things? before they even started?”

You nod, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “I think it’s best. I care about you a lot, but right now, I can’t handle more than what I’ve got.”

Jake remains silent for a moment, then looks back at you with a pained expression. “I get it, Y/N. If this is what you need, then I respect your decision. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

You reach out, touching his arm gently. “I’m so sorry, Jake. This isn’t what I wanted, but I need to focus on my career right now. I hope you understand.”

He nods, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “Yeah, I understand. It doesn’t make it any less painful, but I get it.”

As you turn to leave, you feel a deep ache in your chest, knowing that you’ve made the right decision for yourself, but also feeling the weight of the loss. The break room seems colder now, and the empty space where Jake used to stand feels like a gaping hole in your heart.

Adjusting to life without Jake is more challenging than you anticipated. The hospital, once a place of shared glances and flirtatious banter, now feels strangely empty. The absence of his smile, his reassuring presence, and the warmth of his touch leaves a void that’s hard to ignore.

At work, you focus intently on your patients and your responsibilities, but the familiar routine feels different. The small moments that once brought you joy—a playful comment during a surgery, a quick coffee break together—are now replaced with an uncomfortable silence. Conversations with Jake are limited to work-related topics, and every interaction is laced with a professional distance that feels foreign and awkward.

In the OR, you work side by side, your focus on the patient and the procedure. Jake’s skill and calm demeanor are still impressive, and you find yourself appreciating his expertise even more now. But the casual camaraderie you once enjoyed is gone, replaced by a formality that feels both stifling and isolating.

During breaks, you find yourself missing the easy conversations you used to have with him. You used to share small victories and frustrations, but now those moments are spent in solitude or with other colleagues who don’t quite fill the gap Jake left behind.

Despite your best efforts to maintain your composure, you can’t help but feel the pangs of loneliness. Your personal life remains focused solely on work, and the connection you once had with Jake seems like a distant memory. You remind yourself why you made the decision, focusing on the demanding nature of your job and the need for balance.

Gradually, you begin to adjust, finding solace in the routine of your work and the support of your colleagues. The initial pain of Jake’s absence dulls over time, replaced by a newfound focus on your career and a deeper understanding of your own needs. Though the void remains, you learn to navigate your days with a renewed sense of purpose and dedication.

You’re passing through the hospital lobby, your mind preoccupied with patient charts, when you spot Jake standing near the information desk. He’s engaged in a conversation with Dr. Choi Miyeon, the oncology attending. Your steps slow involuntarily as you notice the easy laughter between them.

Jake’s smile is wide and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that once made your heart flutter. But today, the sight of that smile, directed at someone else, sends a pang of jealousy through you. Dr. Choi, with her poised demeanor and confident air, seems to be enjoying his attention, and the familiarity between them feels almost too intimate.

You try to focus on your task, but your gaze keeps drifting back to the two of them. Jake’s hand gestures animatedly as he talks, his face lighting up in a way that you haven’t seen directed at you in weeks. Dr. Choi’s laughter is soft and melodic, and she tilts her head slightly, clearly engaged in the conversation.

The sight of Jake looking so at ease with someone else brings an unexpected rush of emotion. You find yourself clenching your jaw, trying to ignore the gnawing sense of loss that accompanies the jealousy. It’s a reminder of the connection you once shared and the void left behind by your decision.

You force yourself to look away, turning back to your work with a renewed determination to focus on your patients. But the image of Jake’s smile and the easy rapport he shares with Dr. Choi lingers in your mind, leaving you with a mixture of regret and longing that’s hard to shake.

As you continue with your tasks, the memory of Jake’s interaction with Dr. Choi lingers, clouding your focus. Every time you glance up from your charts or interact with colleagues, your thoughts drift back to that moment in the lobby.

In the break room later that day, you catch sight of Jake entering, still visibly animated from his conversation with Dr. Choi. He looks up and sees you, his face lighting up with that same welcoming smile that used to be exclusively for you. The sight of it only intensifies the pang of jealousy you felt earlier.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake says, approaching you with his usual warmth.

“Hi, Jake,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. You make a deliberate effort to maintain your professional composure, avoiding any mention of the earlier encounter.

Jake seems to sense a change in your demeanor but doesn’t press. Instead, he casually starts discussing the upcoming surgery, his tone light and engaging. You nod along, responding with the necessary professionalism, but your mind is elsewhere. You keep picturing him with Dr. Choi, the way they interacted so naturally, and it’s hard to ignore the twinge of regret.

As you wrap up the conversation and head to your next task, you can’t help but feel a deepening sense of frustration. The realization that you still care about Jake more than you initially admitted weighs heavily on you. The professional distance you’ve maintained seems more like a barrier than a solution, and the void he left behind is harder to ignore than you thought.

Later that evening, as you drive home, you replay the scene in your mind, questioning your decision. You wonder if stepping back from Jake was truly the right choice, or if you were merely trying to shield yourself from the possibility of a meaningful connection. The jealousy you felt is a clear sign of unresolved feelings, and it becomes evident that the emotional aftermath of ending things is more complex than you anticipated.

By the time you reach your apartment, you’re left grappling with the realization that you might have made a mistake. The lingering image of Jake’s smile, coupled with the undeniable ache in your chest, leaves you pondering whether there’s a way to reconcile your fears with the genuine affection you still feel for him.

But it would be utterly selfish of you to go running back to him when he’s seemingly started to move on. This was all your doing after all. He had every right to find what you couldn’t give him in someone else.

The ache in your chest refuses to fade. The image of Jake smiling at Dr. Choi replays in your mind like a loop, and the jealousy you felt transforms into a deeper, more introspective turmoil. You sit in your apartment, the stillness of the room amplifying the thoughts racing through your head.

You replay the conversations and moments you shared with Jake, recalling the comfort and joy he brought into your life. The connection you had felt real and profound, and now that it’s gone, the void seems more pronounced than you expected. The professional distance you’ve maintained does little to mitigate the lingering emotional impact, and the space between you feels even more significant.

The next day, you find yourself in the hospital, struggling to maintain the professional facade you’ve carefully constructed. Every interaction with Jake, though polite and necessary, feels strained and awkward. You avoid his gaze when you can, focusing solely on your patients and tasks, but the undercurrent of unresolved feelings remains.

During a particularly intense surgery, Jake is once again by your side, and the familiarity of working with him brings back a rush of memories. His presence, though professional, is comforting, and you find yourself drawn to him despite your earlier resolve. As you work together seamlessly, the shared glances and brief touches become almost impossible to ignore, reigniting a flicker of the intimacy you once had.

After the surgery, you’re in the on-call room, trying to catch your breath and clear your mind. Jake enters, a small smile playing on his lips, and for a moment, the professional barrier you’ve erected feels flimsy. He approaches you, his tone soft but playful.

“Everything okay, Y/N? You seem a bit distracted today.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. His concern and warmth are genuine, and it only adds to the confusion you’re feeling. “Just a lot on my mind,” you admit, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Jake’s eyes linger on you, a hint of frustration and worry evident. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

His words cut through the walls you’ve built, and for a moment, you allow yourself to consider what you’ve been missing. The idea of opening up to Jake, of sharing your fears and feelings, feels both daunting and inviting.

As the day goes on, you grapple with the decision to reach out to him. The barriers you’ve erected are crumbling, and you realize that avoiding Jake might not be the solution you hoped for. Instead, you begin to consider whether there’s a way to address your fears and find a balance between your demanding career and a meaningful relationship.

The thought of reaching out to Jake, of possibly reconciling your emotions with the connection you still feel, starts to take shape. It’s a daunting step, but one that feels increasingly necessary as you navigate the complexities of your feelings and the emptiness left by his absence.

The days following your realization feel like a mix of regret and self-reproach. You can’t ignore the growing sense of remorse over ending things with Jake. The emptiness left by his absence is more acute than you anticipated, and the thought of missing out on something meaningful drives you to act.

One evening, determined to make things right, you head to Jake’s apartment, hoping to talk things through. Your heart races as you reach his door, and you take a deep breath before knocking.

After a moment, the door opens, and your heart sinks when you see Dr. Choi Miyeon standing there. Her presence immediately sends a wave of jealousy and discomfort through you.

“Doctor Y/L/N?” Miyeon says, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity.

You stand frozen for a moment, the sight of her at Jake’s door intensifying your doubts. “Doctor Choi,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.

Miyeon’s expression shifts to one of mild confusion. “Did you need something?”

The thought of Jake being with Miyeon, combined with the realization that you’re intruding on what feels like an intimate moment, makes your decision for you. The hurt and uncertainty you’ve been feeling come to a head, and you realize you’re not ready to face him under these circumstances.

“I uh actually I’ll come at a better time”. Without another word, you turn and walk away from the door, your heart heavy with a mix of regret and frustration. You can hear Miyeon’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop. The realization that you’ve arrived at the wrong moment only deepens the sense of regret.

As you leave the building, the cool night air hits your face, offering a brief respite from the emotional storm you’re navigating. You’re left grappling with the decision to return, to try again, or to accept the possibility that you might have missed your chance. The weight of the encounter with Miyeon only adds to the complexity of your feelings, leaving you to ponder your next steps in the solitude of the evening.

The following days are a haze of frustration and introspection. Seeing Miyeon at Jake's apartment made you feel even more disconnected from him. At work, maintaining your professional facade becomes more difficult as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you.

One morning, you’re at your locker, preparing for your shift, when Olivia walks in, her usual cheerful demeanor tempered by concern. “Hey, Y/N, you okay? You seem a bit off lately.”

You force a smile, trying to mask your turmoil. “Just a lot on my mind, Olivia. Thanks for asking.”

She nods sympathetically. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. We all have rough patches.”

You thank her and head to the OR, trying to push your thoughts aside. But every encounter with Jake is a reminder of what you’ve lost. You see him in the corridors, in meetings, and every interaction is laced with a painful awareness of the distance between you.

One afternoon, you’re in the middle of reviewing patient files when Jake approaches you. His expression is neutral, but there’s an underlying tension in his eyes. “Y/N, can we talk?”

You nod, setting your files aside. “Sure, what’s up?”

He leads you to a quieter corner of the hospital. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the other night. I saw you at my apartment, and then you just… left. What happened?”

You take a deep breath, the memory of that evening still fresh and painful. “I came to talk to you, to explain that I made a mistake in ending things. But when I saw Miyeon, I realized I couldn’t do it.”

Jake’s expression softens, a mix of understanding and frustration in his eyes. “Miyeon and I were just going over some research. There’s nothing between us, Y/N. But I get why you’d feel that way.”

The weight of your regret feels heavier now, knowing you misinterpreted the situation. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’ve been struggling with everything, and seeing you with her just… hurt. I felt like I’d already lost you.”

He steps closer, his voice gentle but firm. “You haven’t lost me, Y/N. I care about you. But we need to figure out what we’re doing here. This back and forth isn’t good for either of us.”

You nod, feeling the weight of your emotions. “I know. I’ve been scared, Jake. Scared that our jobs would make it impossible to have a real relationship. But I realize now that pushing you away was a mistake.”

Jake’s gaze softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand. “We can make this work if we both want it, Y/N. But we have to be honest with each other, and we have to be willing to try.”

You squeeze his hand, a sense of relief washing over you. “I do want to try, Jake. I want us to work.”

He smiles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Then let’s take it one step at a time. We’ll figure this out together.”

As you stand there, hand in hand, you feel a renewed sense of hope. The road ahead won’t be easy, but the thought of facing it with Jake by your side makes it seem possible. For the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re on the right path, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

The days following your night with Jake are a blend of professional decorum and personal confusion. You both agreed to take things one step at a time, but it's hard to ignore the magnetic pull between you. At work, Jake is as focused and brilliant as ever, but there’s an added layer of warmth in his interactions with you, a silent acknowledgment of what you share.

One afternoon, you find yourself in the break room, sipping coffee and going over department paperwork . Jake walks in, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

"Hey, Y/N," he says, his tone casual but with an underlying hint of playfulness. "How’s your day going?"

You look up, trying to suppress a smile. "Busy as usual. Just finished a tricky valve replacement."

Jake nods, moving closer. "I heard. You did a great job."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his praise. "Thanks, Jake. How about you? Any groundbreaking surgeries today?"

He chuckles, leaning against the counter. "Just the usual brain stuff. Nothing too exciting." He pauses, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, dinner tonight? My place?"

You glance around to make sure no one is within earshot. "Are you asking me out, Dr. Sim?"

Jake’s grin widens. "Maybe I am, Dr. Y/L/N. What do you say?"

You pretend to ponder, then nod. "Alright. Dinner sounds good."

The evening arrives, and Jake picks you up from your house. He’s dressed casually but still looks incredibly handsome. The drive to his place is filled with light conversation and laughter, easing any lingering tension.

Once inside his apartment, you feel a sense of familiarity and comfort. Jake leads you to the living room, where he’s set up a cozy dinner with candles and soft music playing in the background.

"This looks amazing," you say, genuinely touched by the effort he’s put in.

Jake shrugs modestly. "I wanted to do something special."

The dinner is delicious, and the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about your families, past relationships, and the challenges of balancing demanding careers with personal lives. As the night progresses, you feel the barriers between you dissolving.

After dinner, you move to the couch, a glass of wine in hand. The atmosphere is relaxed, and there’s a growing sense of intimacy.

"Tell me more about your family," Jake says, his voice soft and curious.

You take a sip of wine, thinking about your parents and your brother. "Well, my parents are both retired now. My mom was a nurse, and my dad was a teacher. My older brother is a lawyer. We’re close, even if we don’t see each other often."

Jake listens intently, nodding. "Sounds like a solid family. Mine’s a bit scattered. Parents divorced when I was young, so I spent a lot of time between Australia and the States. I have a younger sister who’s an artist. She’s currently exploring Europe."

The conversation continues, each revelation bringing you closer. You talk about your past relationships, the heartbreaks and lessons learned. There’s a vulnerability in the exchange, a mutual understanding of the complexities of your lives.

As the night deepens, you find yourself leaning closer to Jake, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. He reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Y/N," he says softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I really care about you. I want this to work, despite the challenges."

You feel a rush of emotions, the sincerity in his words touching you deeply. "I care about you too, Jake. I want us to work."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. The kiss deepens, your bodies pressing closer together. The desire that has been simmering between you ignites, and you find yourself losing track of time as you explore the depths of your connection.

You found yourself crossing the room to stand in front of him, heart pounding in your chest. You'd reached out, hesitantly, and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. And when he'd looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, you knew that you couldn't resist any longer.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was both gentle and passionate. He'd responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. And as you kissed, you felt a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

You pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes. "Jake," you whispered, voice husky with longing.

"Yeah, baby?" he'd replied, his voice low and rough.

And then you stripped, slowly and deliberately, letting him watch as you revealed her body to him. You’d seen the heat in his eyes as he'd taken in the sight of you, and you knew that you had him.

You moved closer, pressing your naked body against his clothed one. You reached down, unbuttoning his pants and freeing his hard cock, dropping to your knees, taking him into your mouth and sucking him deep.

He'd groaned, his hands tangling into your hair as you worked magic on him. “s-shit baby, taking me so good, that’s it” you sucked and licked and teased, driving him wild with pleasure. when you felt him on the brink, you pulled back, smiling up at him.

"Fuck me, Jake," you commanded, voice husky with desire.

He'd obeyed, lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, spreading your legs wide and burying his face between them. You cried out as he licked and sucked your clit, bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

And then he entered you, driving deep and hard. Your wrapped her legs around him, meeting him thrust for thrust as you made love. It had been passionate and intense, a connection that went beyond the physical and was different from the previous times you had indulged in each other’s bodies.

when you finally reached your peak, collapsing in a tangle of limbs, you knew that you made the right decision. You finally acted on your attraction, and in doing so, you found a deeper connection with Jake.

You both lie there, still engulfed in the bliss of this newfound feeling between the two of you. He can’t help what he says next, feeling as if keeping it in was impossible. “i love you Y/N”.

you snap your neck in his direction, maybe it’s the post orgasm haze but you search for reassurance anyways.

His big brown eyes confirming his words. “I love you too jake”.

The next morning, you wake up in Jake’s arms, the sunlight filtering through the curtains. He stirs beside you, his sleepy smile a welcome sight.

"Good morning," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning," you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you.

As you lie there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside seems distant and unimportant. In this moment, you feel a sense of peace and certainty. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know you can face them together.

At the hospital, the dynamic between you and Jake shifts subtly but unmistakably. The stolen glances, the brief touches, the shared smiles—all are infused with a new depth of intimacy. Your colleagues notice, but no one comments, respecting the unspoken bond you share.

In the weeks that follow, the relationship deepens. You navigate the challenges of your demanding careers, finding solace and strength in each other. The on-call rooms become your private sanctuaries, the moments of stolen kisses and whispered confessions a lifeline in the chaos of the hospital.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift, you find Jake waiting for you in the parking lot. His presence, as always, is a balm to your weary soul.

"Hey, pretty" he says, pulling you into a hug. "How was your day?"

"Tough," you admit, resting your head against his chest. "But it's better now."

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "Come on, let's go home."

As you drive back to his place, the city lights blurring into a comforting glow, you realize just how much Jake has come to mean to you. The fears and doubts that once plagued you have faded, replaced by a certainty that you can face anything as long as you're together.

Back at his apartment, you settle into a comfortable routine, cooking dinner together and sharing stories about your day. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and affectionate touches.

After dinner, you move to the couch, your bodies naturally gravitating towards each other. Jake pulls you into his lap, his hands resting on your hips as he looks into your eyes.

"Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I know we've had our challenges, but I want you to know that I'm all in. I want to be with you, no matter what."

Your heart swells with love and gratitude. "I feel the same way, Jake. I want us to be together, through everything."

He smiles, his eyes shining with affection. "Good. Because I can't imagine my life without you."

You lean in, capturing his lips in a slow, tender kiss. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms.

As the night wears on, you find yourself reflecting on the journey you've been on together. From the initial tension and uncertainty to the deep, abiding love you now share, it's been a rollercoaster of emotions. But through it all, you've found something rare and precious: a connection that transcends the challenges of your demanding careers, a love that grows stronger with each passing day.

and as you fall asleep in Jake's arms, you know that whatever the future holds, you'll face it together, hand in hand.

taglist: @hyunjinheartbreakprince @jaehoonii @enhaslxt @sumzysworld @justalittle-hee @seunghancore @curiousgworge @blockbusterhee @ribbioniki @chocolate-scoups @ineedsomezzz @theonewithouttheuwus @rairaiblog @chansloverr @armycarat2612 @slutforjaeyun @lovingvoidgoatee @jjklvr9 @fertilizedtoesw @ikeuverse @yohanseyebrowmole @mysticalenchantress @hchoes @en-gine @jakesbbygirl @miszes @simpjay @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @vveebee

[xoxojuyo]

Nanny | jjk (m)

✦ summary: you take a babysitting job for the wealthy Jeon family, one night you get to see Mr. Jeon in the kitchen, finding him much more attractive in person than in photos. Despite his seemingly disinterest in you, he comes to you one night, summoning you to his studio.

✦rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✦ pairing: dilf!Jungkook + f!reader

✦ warnings: married!jungkook, dad!jungkook, he is a father of two, older!jungkook, power imbalance relationship, he is your boss’s husband, mistress!reader, cheater!jungkook, swearing, kissing, boob play, finger licking, slight choking, fingering, degradation, penetrative s3x, no mentions of contraceptive use, he cums inside.

✦word count: 3.5K

✦a/n: this is written in first person, oopsie. hope you enjoy.

The clock indicates 9PM as I tiptoed out of the children's room, my steps light and cautious, mindful not to wake the little ones. I was the Jeon’s trusted babysitter.

My sister worked as Mrs. Jeon personal trainer. The woman would spend her whole day at the country club, pilates in the morning, then tennis and swimming lessons at the afternoon. She spent zero time with the kids, she is finally home after 7pm, but it was almost like she warded off her kids, I’m convinced she hates interacting with them, at nights she went to her room or to the patio to have dinner while FaceTiming an unknown man, that was my second hint that she could be cheating on Mr. Jeon, actually at that point I was pretty convinced. She went out with her friends during the weekend nights, going on clubs, bars or some girls night, she always had a plan, some days she wouldn’t come back until Monday morning, with her hair tangled and unkempt, pumps off and a dry colorless face.

She had fired the previous babysitter after she found out she was stealing some of the kids clothing and selling them online, she was an old lady who pretended to be a retired and experienced children psychologist, Mrs. Jeon never cared enough to read her resume, turns out she wasn’t, and it only took the effort of googling her name to find news about her other scams on rich families pretending to be a kind babysitter, and not only she was stealing the kids’ clothes, also Mrs. Jeon’s jewels.

Shortly after she hired a young kindergarten teacher, only lasted a week. Mrs. Jeon thought she was too flirty when she greeted her husband, truth is she never saw them interact, it might be the fact that the girl had a rising onlyfans page that Mrs. Jeon found about because the gardener had recognized her, and also because she was an impolite vegan, the girl demanded rudely to the chef to make her a special vegan meal, so Mrs. Jeon told her to not come back the next day.

Once the door clicked softly shut behind me, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Babysitting could be exhausting, but I cherished these moments of tranquility after the children had drifted off to dreamland. I made my way to the cozy living room, settled onto the plush sofa, eager to enjoy a few moments of relaxation.

My sister received a call for help from Mrs. Jeon. Desperate because if she didn’t find a new babysitter before the kids finished their school day she had to stay with them for the rest of the day. My sister said she sounded as if someone had died, in complete panic. I got my sister’s call for help, she wanted to be in her boss’ good side and also to get my ass out of the couch once and for all.

I had just graduated, and conveniently unemployed. I had tried my luck in a big city, completely failed and had to return home. Had been rotting in my family home for almost a month until my sister told me she had a job opportunity for me.

- Just focus on taking care of the kids, don’t engage with the male employees on the house, she will think you are fucking them, she hates sharing her men. And if you get to see Mr. Jeon when he arrives early from work just say good night without making eye contact, no more exchange, understood?

In fact, I had never seen Mr. Jeon in person. There were huge family pictures all around the house walls, and small frames on the shelves that portrayed his beautiful face.

Mr. Jeon is a handsome man, with youthful features and athletic physique. From chatting with the maids I learned that he goes jogging at 6 AM, to the gym at 7, has breakfast at 8, then heads to work until 9 to 10 at night when he arrives home, takes a shower and goes to bed.

As weeks went by, my love for the kids grew, just as much as my curiosity for their gorgeous father.

The couple didn’t share a room, in fact, apparently they hated each other. They were a happy pair until she was “forced” to bare his children. Both families had agreed to unite in all aspects including business, but the warranty was to have at least one male that would take over everything one day. They did, the youngest of the two children was a beautiful and healthy boy, but Mrs. Jeon was left traumatized and deformed after the pregnancies, which caused the fall of their successful marriage.

Linda, their oldest maid said that it all started even before they got married, because both were compulsive cheaters that enjoyed to have interaction with people bellow their status, such as maids, trainers, secretaries, drivers, bodyguards, etc.

As I reached for a book from the nearby shelf, I heard a faint rustling sound coming from the kitchen. I paused, my heart skipping a beat. Perhaps it was just the house settling.

This weekend I had been tasked to stay over and take care of the kids while Mrs. Jeon was on a girls trip to Indonesia, she’s coming back on Monday.

I’d say Mrs. Jeon trusted me, I was her beloved personal trainer’s sister and I’ve been doing a good job taking care of the kids, acted as if the chef, the gardener, the drivers and the new pastry cook didn’t exist. She was happy with my work.

Her instructions were to just normally complete my Friday - Saturday routine with the kids, but to stay over to keep an eye on them at night, she didn’t trust the maids, one time she had a nightmare in which they all grabbed forks to kill them and fed her a broth made with their bones, ever since she’s been paranoid, she says they hate her so much she believes they are capable of doing it.

It was Friday night, the kids already asleep, I would usually go home after this, but I had to sleep on one of the guest rooms to check on the kids, and Saturday morning prepare them for their swimming lesson and entertain them for the rest of the day.

But then I heard it again, unmistakably—a soft shuffling, like footsteps moving across the tiled floor. My breath caught in my throat as I debated whether to investigate or retreat to the safety of the children's room. The staff had already ended their activities, they were all supposed to be in their chambers.

Summoning courage, I rose from the sofa and tiptoed towards the kitchen, my pulse quickening with each step. The dim light from the living room cast eerie shadows against the walls, adding to the sense of uneasiness that gripped me.

Peering cautiously around the corner, My eyes widened in astonishment. Standing in the center of the kitchen was a figure—Mr. Jeon, very alive and kicking.

He was so much more handsome in person, an unreal beauty. Blazer and tie off, sleeves up his elbows revealed his tattoos, they covered his whole right arm and hand, first three buttons undone letting me see part of his chest, he was bulked. A piercing adorning his lower lip, another on his right eyebrow, a couple more on his ears.

I had heard he did that to his body after he found out guys with piercings and tattoos gave Mrs. Jeon the ick. Apparently he really wanted her away from him.

- Who are you? He asked confused, looked like he already had a few drinks, was peering at the fridge looking for a beer.

- The babysitter.

- What happened to Ms. Barlowe? he asked while opening the beer can and pouring it in a glass.

- She was fired two months ago. I tried to respond as concisely as possible, but this man was making me feel things that would put this job on risk. He liked getting inside the staff’s panties? Then he could take me right here.

- What’s your name? How old are you?

- y/n, hadn’t you heard it’s impolite to ask a woman’s age. I’m old enough.

- Old enough? For what? He chuckled.

- To be your children’s babysitter. I said jokingly, nothing matters anymore, this man has me on my knees acting all flirty.

- Once we had a 16 year old. He said looking at me, taking a sip of his beer.

- Not that young, more like old enough to buy alcohol all that stuff. I said while looking down at my feet, shyness taking over me all of a sudden, I shouldn’t have said anything.

- Are you staying the night?

- Yes, I have to keep an eye on the kids while your wife is away.

- Then I’ll see you around doll, I need a shower. He winked and walked to leave the kitchen, when he passed by me he patted the top of my head.

What?! The nickname got me all confused and flustered, but then the way he touched my head, was it all in a “oh how cute” way? Or a “let’s fuck till daylight”?

I stood there, still processing the whole conversation we had, now I feel embarrassed.

Headed directly to the guest bedroom and took a shower too. I felt so hot, cheeks red and teary eyes. Got my pajamas on, don’t I own a prudish set? Pair of pants and an oversized tee. If he were to walk into the room and saw me wearing this, I bet he would laugh.

Of course I couldn’t sleep a wink. Thinking the hot man was somewhere under the same roof. Foolishly kept imagining things, the way his hands would feel against my skin, his big hands around my throat, long fingers inside my pussy. Oh god!

The mere three or four hours of sleep I got, I slept them like a dog, after about three orgasms I achieved by rubbing my clit. It felt awful afterwards. He was a married man after all, he didn’t love his wife but they were together, he got two children who I adored and spent a lot of time with.

Mr. Jeon would never look at me like that anyways, I bet he had a bunch of women already. Models, celebrities, escorts.

Saturday morning I had breakfast with the kids, I usually arrive after they had finished. Once done we head upstairs to get ready for their swimming lesson. They had a private instructor every Saturday to teach them how to swim, I sat on one of the pallets by the pool.

After the lesson ended, the kids wanted to stay and keep playing in the pool, it was a hot day since summer was around the corner.

- Pleaseee! You can grab one of mom’s swimsuits. The oldest daughter insisted I should join them on their little chasing game inside the water.

- I’d like to but it’s almost lunchtime and then we have things to do remember? You wanted to go to the supermarket and buy snacks. I insisted that it wasn’t a good idea, even though I really wanted to jump into the fresh water, but maybe it would seem shameless.

I ended up getting in. One of the maids brought me one of the many Mrs. Jeon’s bikinis, she told me she grabbed it from a big bag full of clothing she was about to throw away. It was a tiny black Valentino bikini with a white outline.

We played for a while and then got out to have lunch, we sat in the outdoor dining table, all soaked, the tips of our fingers wrinkled from spending too much time on the water.

And then he comes out from inside the house, wearing a black polo shirt tucked in a pair of navy blue jeans, black Saint Laurent sunglasses. He took them out and looked at me from head to toe, licking his lips.

Was he home the whole time?! I’ve never ran into him on Saturdays. I was standing up beside the table, opening a can of sprite for the youngest son.

The kids waved at his father and continued eating, he gave each a kiss on their forehead and stood in front of me.

- When is my mother supposed to pick them up? He said, head lowered to look at me in the eyes.

- Tomorrow morning.

- I’ll tell her to take them today, have everything ready. He said putting his glasses on and heading to the garage.

I’m already imagining things, foolishly thinking he might have a hidden intention to ask his mother to take the kids early, maybe all he wants is my ass out of his house and I’m here all nervous believing he might want some alone time to fuck my brains out, very unlikely.

Once the kids were gone I went to my room, packed everything. I was meant to leave after the grandma took the children TOMORROW, now they are gone and I’m confused on what should I do.

More like expecting Mr. Jeon to come home and…

Toc, toc, toc.

He opened the door and looked at me sitting on the edge of the bed.

- On my studio, in five. He said and quickly closed the door and left.

What the fuck?!

I was almost having a panic attack before I knocked his studio door three times. I decided to change into a white tank top, no bra, white cotton panties and a pair of blue stripped pants, what I had intended to wear tomorrow.

Heard a small come in, and opened the door to enter.

He was sitting in a grey loveseat, manspreading, left hand on his crotch, right holding a cigarette between his lips, such a breathtaking view.

- Come sit with me. He ordered patting the couch.

I walked slowly, still shaking from the nervousness. Sat next to him, hands and eyes on my tights, I couldn’t look at him.

- Is this what you want? He took my hand with both of his, which made me look at his face. He was waiting for an answer.

- What do you mean? Of course I knew what he meant, I guess I just wanted to hear him say it to be sure.

- Do you want me to fuck you? Here, right now?

Yes.

He grabbed my face by my chin and pressed his lips against mine. He let me set the pace at first. His lips were soft, breath tasted like tobacco. I could feel how at times he was struggling not to kiss me harder.

So I let him slide his tongue inside my mouth. He grabbed my hips to place me on his lap, groaning at the feeling of my covered pussy on top of his crotch. He bit and dragged my lower lip, his kisses started to descend from my chin to my neck.

- From the first moment I saw you, your eyes were pleading me to fuck you, then I saw you in that tiny bikini, so naughty.

My pussy was throbbing, his words and his desperate kisses against my skin had me drunk in pleasure already.

He took the hem of my top to remove it, tits bounced right in front of his eyes. He chuckled and looked at me with a smirk, grabbed them with his huge hands, caressing them as if they were two stress balls. With his thumb, he started rubbing my nipples, eyes on mine the whole time.

- You like that princess?

I was a moaning mess, nodded and arched my back. It felt so good, a numbing sensation right into my pussy hole, soaking wet.

He left my nipples to grab my buttocks, automatically started to rub myself on his bulge. He closed his eyes and moaned, then kissed my lips hungrily. Grabbed my waist and helped me pace my movements, he laid back on the couch, locking his eyes to mine.

I stood up to remove my pants, once off he grabbed my hips and sat me on his lap, this time my back against his chest. His rough hands start to brush my body, from my breasts to my stomach.

- Open your legs princess. Obeying immediately to his command, I was already desperate for his touch down there, couldn’t help but to feel powerless under his touch.

I whimpered as I felt his hands pushing my panties to the side, and started to stroke my clit. He then took his fingers to my entrance only to remove them quickly. I moaned and turned my head to look at him in disbelief. He brings his fingers up to my mouth, coated with my juices.

- Lick them.

I slowly wrapped my lips around his long fingers, doe eyes staring at his while circling my tongue against his digits. Spit dripping from my chin and his hands, such a filthy sight. He then removed them from my mouth producing a popping sound.

He took those two fingers down my pussy again, inserted them into my pulsing hole. His hands are skilled, every move he makes hits the right spot, I dropped my head back in pleasure and let out an embarrassingly loud moan, he started kissing my neck, sucking and licking.

- Such a filthy whore, you like my fingers? He said with a deep voice, groaning in my ear. His eyes were fixed in my pussy the whole time, he seemed to enjoy watching his fingers going in and out of my hole.

He had been fingering me for a while, when I felt that familiar response down my pussy, a numbing sensation signaling my orgasm was close to take place.

Jungkook thrusted and curled his fingers hitting the right spot with insane accuracy each time. His cock throbbed underneath me, my thighs trembled as I tried to keep them spreaded. The sight spurred him on as he added another finger, I groaned loudly at the stretch he was now giving me with three fingers.

- Come on baby, cum all over my hand. He mumbled against my ear. It didn’t take long for my release to come. Jungkook groaned, shifting his hips to get some friction himself as he helped you ride it out.

He laid me against the couch before his mouth littered hot kisses across my chest only pausing when he felt my fingers delicately trail along the waistband of his pants, looking forward to undo the button. Jungkook met my gaze with a smirk on his lips.

- Please sir, can I have your cock now? I asked, my eyes innocently blinked up at him. Jungkook groaned at my words, he felt himself twitch desperately against his cotton prison as he looked at my doe expression patiently waiting for him. He gently pushed me on the soft silk couch before beginning to free himself. His cock slapped against his stomach, pre cum already leaking from the tip which he used as lubricant as he gave himself a few pumps.

My legs automatically opened for him to slot himself in between. I felt his tip prod at my entrance, he began to rub, coating his hard dick with my juices. Jungkook sunk himself into my throbbing heat. He started off at a slow pace, kissing my neck softly. Once he felt me clench him, Jungkook started to move faster.

My moans caused him to thrust harder as he found himself wanting to draw more of them out of my pretty lips. It didn’t take long for me to become cockdrunk as I clutch at his forearms, the intense arousal forming again in your stomach. Jungkook felt his balls tighten at my chants.

- Fuck! Yeah sir fuck me harder, I love how your cock feels inside me. My words spurring him to drive himself deeper inside me. My eyes rolled back and my body went limp in his arms as I came for the second time that night. My body was sensitive as he kept thrusting through My orgasm trying to chase his own. He watched my eyes roll as I let him continue to use me like the a slut.

- Oh my god! Sir, please cum inside me, I want your cum inside my pussy. My willingness to submit to him caused his hips to sputter and coat my walls. I could feel his cum warming me from the inside causing me to smile at the feeling of being full of the essence of my boss’s husband. The action solidified the new dynamic between the two of us.

Jungkook pulled his softening cock out of me gently, I heard him get off the couch and leave the room to get a wet cloth to help clean up the mess in between my legs. I snuggled my head into the pillows behind.

- You did so good for me baby, was this okay? Is this what you need? Jungkook asked, sitting next to me on the couch. He moved some hairs away from my face and began stroking my cheek awaiting a response.

- I loved it, thank you sir. I spoke with a soft smile. Jungkook’s helped me slip into the comfort of the bedding in the guest room, he laid in the bed scooping me into his embrace. I laid on his chest whilst he stroked my back, lulling me to sleep with his actions and for the first time I slept peacefully in the embrace of my new lover.

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

[squiddy-god]

types of affection

(xiao, childe, albedo, zhongli)

What types of affection do they prefer giving and receiving? Yet another re upload

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN♥︎ don't be shy, send request for any of the fandoms on my fandom list, you can even recommend shows/games if they aren't there. Or even if you just want to chat! Anon is also always open!

Xiao 

Giving : gift giving, acts of service 

Alright so xiao knows very little about affection, his words are to rigid and his actions stiff, so those are out- 

But he gifts you things, its cute really, the bright blush on his face when he gifts you unusual gifts. 

Anything that reminds you of him, a pinecone he saw under leaves, small trinkets and animals made from leafs, rocks and smooth stones he finds by the water reeds, anything really

You won't know it at first but all the gifts he gives you are adeptal amulets, they ward of evil and bring protection, he'd never admit this fact but it's true, he fears for you so if you find hilichurls suddenly running from you its most likely coming from the small gift xiao gave 

Acts of service can vary, anything from accompanying you on a commission to clearing out a camp of hillichurls that was in your path, xiao finds himself doing little things for you

Receiving : acts of service, physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time 

Xiao has been serving liuye for thousands of years, if you do anything for him hes going to be smitten 

Xiao likes to say that the things he does is solely his burden to carry, but the things you do for him he appreciates greatly, anything from making him almond tofu to rubbing his shoulders after a fight

His favorite to receive is if you play an instrument, even just humming a tune, it calms him and lets him feel at ease, like the karmic debt no longer beats on his soul. 

While xiao is stiff when giving physical affection at first, to scared of hurting you to initiate it, he does love it 

Xiao has most likely never felt or has forgotten the feeling of genuine physical affection, the feeling of your skin against his, your hands spread against his chest, its addicting t him 

Xiao likes to feel loved, the fact that you want him close to you, that you feel safe in his arms, it warms his heart and makes him realise what he's been missing for so long, and now that he knows the feeling, he craves it 

Xiao won't initiate physical touch, but he longs for it, and if you're on the roof of Wangshu Inn he expects you to be near him, as close as possible.

Xiao is insecure, his thoughts rage and cloud his mind, he often has doubts, and while he knows that you wouldn't simply leave him, and he has faith in you, words of affirmation are appreciated 

Tell him that he's loved, that you aren't going anywhere, that he’s enough and will always be enough

He claims he doesn't need reassurance but the way his arms hold you tighter says otherwise 

Xiao is also a fan of quality time, simply being in your presence calms him and he craves the feeling of you next to him. 

At times like this spoken words are not needed, he just wants to know your next to him.

Childe (tartaglia) 

Giving : gift giving, acts of service, physical touch 

While the concept is the same, the execution is far different from xiao 

Childe gifts you lots of expensive things, if he sees it and ir remiss him of you, or you stare at something to long- there's no holding him back 

That being said all of his gifts are very well thought out and usually very sentimental 

He gifts things that have meaning, things that relate to your interest and hobbies- and trust me, he knows all of your interest and hobbies (S I M P) 

I have a headcanon that childe is hopelessly pathetic at arts and crafts, it always ends up as a disaster and he gets embarrassed, so he’s probably tried to make you something and it turned out,,,charming yet awful,,,he was about to scrap it when you saw it and it's probably the only time you've seen mr. saveu fatui so flustered 

Childes acts of service are a lot difret from xiaos-

Xiao wants to make your life a little easier, childe wants a hit list 

Deadass this man wants names and, if you would be so kind, addresses 

If you need someone taken care of then he's your man, and he gets excited about it too (psychopath) 

Of course he’ll also do normal things for you, like helping you lift boxes too heavy for you, or beating up hillichurls, he’ll even cook for you! He’ll honestly do anything you ask (S I M P) 

Childe is especially clingy as work takes him away so often, besides that he strikes me and a generally touchy guy, he likes to feel close to you 

Big fan of having you in his lap but he’ll settle for anything he can get, be it hand holding or an arm around your waste he’ll take it. 

Receiving : gift giving, physical touch, words of affirmation 

Child doesn't want you to buy thing for him, he wants handmade things, even if your as hopeless as he is, his heart melts if you gift him something you made,

Anything you make him becomes one of his most treasured possessions, it becomes something he genuinely cherishes and he wont shut up about it 

He’ll gush about it for weeks and no one can stop him 

As i said before, childe is a touchy guy, he likes to feel you against him, but you initiate affection? YES YES YES YES YES sign him up 

 He seems like he'd enjoy if you came up behind him and hugged him, hed tease you at first but inside hes melting and squealing 

Praise him, he lives for it tbh 

If he beat a hard monster tell him how strong he is, childe is a prideful man and your praise is something he greatly enjoys 

Complimenting him on just about anything will get you rewarded with a barrage of kisses and a firm hug 

Btw he gives great hugs, theyre strong hugs that make you think “holy hell did you fight a bear?” and they have a warmth to them that makes you feel at home. He doesn't do side hugs, it's full on hugs or no hugs 

Back to words, if you get sappy and genuinely sentimental he will get SO flustered��

Albedo 

Giving : quality time, gift giving 

Albedo loves spending time with you, weather you simply keep him company during his experiments or walking with him thru the streets of mondstat, albedo loves spending time with you 

Claims he focuses better if your in his presence (it's a total lie) 

Albedo likes to be able to sit with you while you eat, he's big on eating together and it gives him a (much needed) break 

He also loves taking walks with you, the closeness brings a warm feeling to his chest and a smile to his face 

Albedo also enjoys giving you pictures, often times theyre of you or things that make him think of you, anything from a sketch of you working or of a flower that made him think of you, a cute bird or a simple landscape, no matter what the sketch is of he always takes time to explain exactly why he decided to sketch that particular item or moment 

His reasons are always very sweet, especially when he shyly tells you he just thought you looked cute in that moment. 

Don't be surprised if you get a random branch or twig on your desk or nightstand, because albedo with casually take leaves and turn them into twigs (like in his idle animation) especially when he finds his mind wandering to you

Albedo is a sweetheart and wants to spend time with you.

Receiving : quality time and acts of service 

Albedo loves that you want to spend time with him, he wants you to be as interested in him as he is with you, so your enthusiasm to spend time with him makes him happy

He likes doing domestic things with you, cooking, cleaning, eating meals together are all things he greatly enjoys

He also loves it if your interested in his work, sitting and watching him work makes his heart soar and makes him feel loved 

Look, i like albedos voice a lot, it so calming and gentle- so like, sitting in bed by candle light, leaned against albedos shoulder while he reads outloud, occasionally planting a kiss on the crown of your head

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Albedo appreciates you doing little things for him (his quest be like) 

This isn't just you running errands for him but also things like bringing him a little snack or a cup of water, dusting his study (don't move things, just dust) helping him button his shirt (dse it even have buttons?) things like that, small things that just make his life a little easier 

*cough* kissing his temple and handing him a cup of coffee, sleepy voice whispering a little encouragement while he turns to give you a proper kiss. *cough* 

Overall albedo is very chill and his affection is much the same, gentle domestic things and time spent together never fails to put a smile on his face 

I love domestic albedo 

Zhongli 

Another domestic husband 

Giving : quality time and words of affirmation 

Zhongli absolutely LOVES quality time spent with you, he loves to simply be able to bask in your presence, to calmly sip tea and listen to your voice 

Its often that zhongli will be sitting quietly in whatever room your in, it doesn't matter what your doing, be it dishes or reading, he’ll be sitting and watching you with nothing but adoration in his eyes 

He also loves when you sit next to him, curled up by his side while he reads to you or tells you stories 

His voice is *chef kiss* and listening to his storeys is always so calming 

The gentle like filtering threw the windows as his voice recounts tales of many years ago, his gloved thumb gently smoothing over your cheek. His arm wrapped around your shoulders as you sip your tea and eagerly listen to him. 

Zhongli is domestic, long hours of time where he does nothing but savor the feeling of being with you, no need for spoken words when everything feels as if it has slipped into place. 

Zhongli has a very proper way of speaking, his words carry the weight of mountains behind them, nothing spoken without meaning and intent behind them

Zhongli has no issue speaking his mind, and the same applies to you. 

He gives lots of complements, especially when he notices something different about you 

You'll never doubt zhonglis love, how could you when his words are always spoken like facts? 

I mean how can you argue when he states complements as if theyre set in stone? 

The simple answer is that you can't. And if you try to argue you’ll face the wrath of the rock (his kisses lmao)

Receiving : physical affection and quality time  

Shhhhhhhhhhh- zhongli loves physical affection and i'll die on this hill

 Zhongli after so many lonly years finally has you,  and he longs for the touch of your hands and the feeling of your lips on his 

Zhongli melts into your touch, leaving into your hand cupping his face while he kisses your wrist with the utmost gentleness 

Zhongli can't imagine he's comfortable to cuddle with, his skin is tight and has little to no give, his body is as hard as a rock, yet you snuggle into his side- it always brings a smile to his face 

Zhongli is not an impulsive man yet he is often overcome with the burning urge to kiss you, he thinks hes slick but its all to obvious how his eyes drift and fixate on your lips, if you look close enough you might even see the way his pupils dilate, drawing into thinner slits when they stare

Zhongli loves if you take the time to get ready with him in the mornings, spending the morning with you is always very pleasant 

Idk bout you but i'd be glad to get woken up if i was getting woken up by zhonglis voice 

He wakes up early and brews tea every morning, and once its done he’ll rub circles on your back to gently wake you up, placing a kiss on your head and asking how you slept. 

PLEASE offer to tie his tie for him he will melt 

Hed smile and let you tie his tie, gently taking your wrists in his large hands and placing a kiss on your knuckles before planting a kiss on your lips 

Domestic zhongli is the best zhongli

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 7: Then Again

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Everyone’s got regrets they might wish to go back and change, but then again, you would have never gotten here

Word Count: 3,304

Content/Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, honest conversations, hiking, cuddling, soft intimate shower, oral sex (f receiving), p in v protected sex, lotsa kissing, praise and lowkey size kink, swears

Author’s Note: O. M. G. This is the first time I’ve written smut, so I wanted to make it super soft and loving like I feel really pairs for this couple. Nine months into the relationship, wowza. Talk about true love, somebody pls find me a bear of a man like this.

Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. It’s my favorite on the entire album. It just kinda puts warmth and longing into my chest, so I hope the vibe matches what I’ve written.

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

“Yes Mom, I promise I’ll be safe.” You looked into the camera of your phone as your mom looked right back at you.

“As long as you promise. I don’t want you eaten by a bear, but apparently you’ve got your own bear of a boyfriend to ward them off.” You laughed along with her own chuckle at that joke.

“Yes, Ari knows these woods well. I have no doubt he’s taking us on a good and safe route.” Your head turned away from the phone at a knock at the door.

“That’s probably him now.”

It was Sunday morning and Ari had asked you on a nice hike with him. The weather was set to be sunny, yet brisk, perfect for a rigorous walk through the mountains.

You opened the door and Ari greeted you with a kiss on the top of your head. “Morning, Duchess.”

He turned to see you were on the phone. “Oh, good morning Mrs.—“

“Ari, please. Call me mom. How many times do I have to tell you?” You both smiled and blushed at that as Ari went into your kitchen and dropped off his things. You sat on the couch, continuing your phone call.

“I knew there was something about that boy the first time I saw him. I’m so glad the two of you are so happy together. I can’t wait to come visit and officially meet him in person soon.” Ari had spoken to your mom on several occasions over FaceTime now, each time garnering more of her respect and adoration, which was rare for her. She always had sky high expectations, and you were her daughter after all, but she didn’t want you to have to face the same struggles she did, both career and romance-wise.

You rolled your eyes, thinking she wouldn’t catch it, but of course she did. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady. You know I’m right. I’ll let you go have fun on your date, though. I love you!”

You smiled back. “Love you, too, Mom.”

Once the call ended, you walked over to Ari, watching him bent over and looking through your fridge. You just couldn’t resist the urge to smack the plump, ripe piece of ass in joggers before you. Just as you were winding up, a large hand went and covered both cheeks.

“I know what you’re, thinking, Angel. You’re not gonna get me this time.” He rose from his hunched position, and towered over you, eyes glinting with mischief, pairing with the sly grin on his face. Before you knew it, Ari had scooped you up and plopped you back on the couch, peppering your face with kisses and tickling your sides. You were helpless, kicking your legs from under his body, doing your best to fight off the attack.

“Ari, quit it! I give, I give, you win!” You squealed through your giggle.

Ari’s hands and lips stopped their assault, but he didn’t pull away, instead, leaning in and putting a fat kiss on your lips. “Get on your hiking boots! We’ve gotta go before it gets hot.”

You nodded and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Help me tie them?”

Ari’s head drooped down as he sighed and grabbed your boots off the floor. He could never say no to that look. He kissed each shin as he slid the boots onto your feet. “Anything for you, Duchess.”

You helped by tying one of the shoes as Ari tied the other. He was just such an expert, having to do this everyday for however many years now. Looking at the single knot you had made on your right shoe, he untied it and pulled the laces tight, making his own double knot in its place.

“You’re so much better at that than me.” You huffed. He laughed back, kissing the wrinkle away from your forehead that showed up when you were frustrated.

“Nonsense. You’re great at it. I just like ‘em extra secure.” He grabbed your hand and helped to lift you off the couch, the two of you putting on your hiking backpacks and heading out the door, ready for the trail.

Your hike was filled with amazing views and sightings of so much wildlife. You truly loved seeing Ari in his element, as well. He constantly checked on you as he led you through the winding trails, pointing out his favorite spots and, of course, stopping for snacks and photo ops.

He could tell when the exhaustion was starting to creep in, but luckily by that point, the two of you were nearly home.

As you came back, Ari started on heating up the leftovers from dinner the night before. You went out to your back porch which overlooked the rolling landscape, rich with colors of green and rocky gray, mountains graced with snow caps when you looked up at the peaks surrounding you.

Ari came out carrying two warm plates of Thai food from the good place in town and you snuggled up on the couch of your patio furniture and ate together.

He grabbed your plates and set them aside, as the two of you chatted, the sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. Ari pulled you close so your back was against his chest, his strong arms tight around your waist. He wiggled to scoot until his back was up against the arm rest, finally placing his head on your shoulder as the two of you settled.

Ari kissed your neck, his beard lightly scratching the sensitive skin, as you sat there pensively. “Ari, do you ever wish you could go back and change things? Go back to a time that was simpler, where you didn’t know what it was like to live through so many hardships? Do it all differently?” You felt his chest heave with a sigh and he exhaled out of his nose, the warm air hitting your collar bone.

Ari let the question hang in the air for a moment, thinking over everything in his life while he formulated an answer. “If I could go back, I probably would’ve held onto my old Bronco. It used to be my grandpa’s, and it was getting old, so I traded it in for the truck. I probably would’ve visited him down in Atlanta a little more, too, before he passed.”

You nodded as he hummed, thinking of more things. “I probably would’ve stuck around for graduation, finished my degree so I could become rich.”

You giggled as his chest rumbled behind you. “I’d probably apologize to Savannah for wasting her time, would’ve hung out and vacationed with my childhood friends a little more….”

“Had a little more patience, or sent a few more prayers to heaven, but I don’t know if that all was really in the cards. If it were up to me, who knows where I’d be? I look back at all of that. The heartbreaks, the hard goodbyes, they led me here.”

You turned to look up at him, his gaze distant in thought before he looked down at you. “If it was all different, though, I wouldn’t be sitting here with my whole world in my arms, stealing kisses on a Sunday afternoon. Sure, there are a few things that I might’ve changed if God put me in charge, but then again, I would have never met you.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes at his words. “Why? Is there anything you regret?”

You laughed and sniffled as you shook your head. “No. Not at all.” He used his thumb to wipe the tears falling down your cheeks.

“I feel really dumb right now. I was gonna say something stupid like buying bitcoin to be rich. Or like, maybe just not date at all until I found you. But you make a great point. I wouldn’t have come up here if it weren’t for all that. I think I love you too much to regret anything that led me here. Anything that I thought was a wrong turn definitely turned out right.”

He shook his head, laughing along with you, kissing away the rest of your tears. “Trust me, I love you more.”

The two of you sat there, basking in each other’s presence, before you began to become overly aware of the dried dirt and sweat that sat on your skin.

“I, um…. I think I’m gonna go take a shower. Get the outdoors off of me.” Ari nodded and helped you up off his lap, preparing to head home and do the same when you lingered before heading inside.

“Do you want to….join…me?” Ari sprung up out of his chair, head nodding vigorously. He grabbed the plates off the table and ran to drop them in the sink. He watched as you sauntered, hips swaying while you discarded pieces of clothing, one by one, completely naked before reaching the barn door that closed off the master bathroom from your bedroom.

Ari shimmied down his pants with much less grace, shucking off his shirt and socks, before joining you in the steamy room. He watched in awe as you stepped into the water and it ran down the curves of your body. Ari reached his hand under the stream and immediately retracted at the sting of the heat.

“God, Duchess. I love you, but I don’t think I could stand it if the lava you’re standing under burns my skin off before I even get to touch you.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Bear, it’s not that bad.”

You begrudgingly turned down the temperature as Ari joined you. This wasn’t the first time you and Ari had done anything, but it was the first time you had seen each other fully naked all at once, since you hadn’t fully had sex yet.

You turned around as Ari grabbed your shampoo, gently rubbing it into your scalp. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of his fingertips massaging your head, basking in the intimacy and ecstasy of the moment.

“Angel, if you keep making noises like that, I don’t think we’ll ever get clean.” You laughed as you leaned back to wash the shampoo out of your hair.

Ari leaned under the stream with you to wet his hair. You squeezed the shampoo into your hand and began to massage it into his scalp, scratching your nails through his hair just the way he liked.

“Oh, fuck Angel, that’s good.” You giggled, hitting him in the chest.

“If I’ve gotta stop, so do you, mister.”

The two of you continued to wash each other, sharing kisses and feather light touches here and there before getting out and drying off.

Once you had brushed out your hair and Ari’s, the two of you made your way to your bed, sheets freshly washed just the day before. You had your towel wrapped around your body while Ari’s hung low on his waist. Ari held your hips, looking into your eyes, as you slowly backed up until your knees gave out from hitting against the bed.

Ari moved to crawl over you, his towel coming undone as he did so. Your eyes trailed down his firm chest, to his chiseled abs, until you could see how hard he was. You moaned at the sight, watching how his dick twitched in response.

His eyes stayed locked with yours until he leaned down and kissed you, trailing away from your lips and down your neck before retracing the path with his tongue.

You shuffled under him, removing your towel and discarding it on the floor with his, adjusting yourself so your head laid against the pillows. He kissed you again, deeply, passionately, before smiling and pulling away.

“I love you. I’d never change anything about my life unless it meant I could have met you sooner just to love you that much longer.”

You could feel his heavy cock tap against your leg as he kissed down your chest, eyes never leaving yours. You watched intently, lips parted in a light gasp as he finally reached where you were yearning for his touch.

Ari’s biceps bulged when he pulled your legs apart, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. Your breath shuddered at the sensation.

“Is this okay, Angel?” You nodded and whispered back.

“Yes, please. Please keep going.”

Ari’s tongue darted out of his mouth licking a stripe up your slit. Your back bowed as he dove in, licking and sucking. You knew he called you Angel, but his tongue was heavenly.

You let out a high-pitched moan, entangling your fingers through the wet strands of Ari’s hair, using the leverage to grind against his face. He inserted a finger into you, pumping it and curling it against your spot just right. You felt your legs began to shake, but pushed Ari’s head away before you could reach your peak.

“Wait, hold on.” You spoke while still trying to catch your breath. He looked up at you in bewilderment, beard glistening with your arousal.

“What’s wrong, Duchess? Did I do something?” You shook your head, still gasping for air.

“No, no. It was so good, I just, uh…..I want you to be inside me when I come.” Ari nodded, coming back up your body to kiss you.

“Okay.” He whispered back, a soft smile on his face. “Gimme a sec.”

He ran over to his discarded joggers and fished in the pocket to find his wallet where he pulled out a condom. He returned to you in bed, taking his spot between your legs again, and rolled it on. You knew he was huge, and you’d only taken two of his fingers before, but you couldn’t help the anticipation to feel all of him.

“I’m gonna open you up first, okay Angel?”

You nodded and immediately threw your head back as Ari scissored two of his long fingers against your walls, preparing you and stretching you out for what was to come. You wailed when he added a third and Ari swore he had never heard or seen something so beautiful before. The movie that was you feeling this level of bliss from him made him feel warmth and pride through his chest. He needed to be inside you.

Ari pulled out his fingers, swirling his tongue around them and sucking them clean, moaning at the sweet taste. His eyes rolled back and he nearly came from the culmination of partaking in your pleasure up to that point. You couldn’t help but clench against nothing, watching the specks of lust within the love in his gaze after that as he leaned down and framed your face with his large hands. He leaned in to kiss you, then pulled away as his dark blue irises, thin around his blown pupils, shifted between your eyes.

“Are you ready? Are you sure?” It came out breathy and strained. He wanted this as badly as you, after taking everything step by painfully slow step for nine months together.

“Yes, Ari. Please. I just want to feel you so close.”

He nodded and ran the head of his cock

up and down your folds, gathering your arousal before perching at your entrance. He kept one hand at his base, the other on your cheek as he looked deeply into your eyes. You felt the bulbous tip breach your entrance, almost with a pop as your tight warmth welcomed Ari.

“Ah, oh, Angel, you’re so tight.” Ari nearly yelped at the feeling of being inside you. You watched as he couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter closed from the overwhelming pleasure. “I’ll take it slow, promise.”

All Ari wanted was for you to enjoy this as much as him, and when he was able to pry his eyes open to see the way your face was contorted, your eyes as sincere and pleading as his, he knew you were. He slowly pushed in further, accompanied by a deep moan from you. Neither of you were virgins by any means, but something about this moment with Ari felt like being born again, straight into delectation.

He pushed another inch in, slowly, and your hands flew to his broad back, nails digging in the muscles that firmly blanketed his scapulas. His hips jumped at the sting, pushing him in to the hilt, causing you both to brace against each other at the fullness and all encompassing warmth.

His head dipped into crook of your neck, breath fanning your collar bone and beard sending tingles through your body as he sucked on the spot that gave you chills.

Your hands ran down his back and to his ass, pulling him in closer to you, if that was even possible.

“Ari, I need you to move.” You felt him nod against you and his hips pulled out only a few inches before rolling back in.

You breathy moans were close to his ear, spurring him on to keep going faster, pulling out farther and pushing in deeper until the warmth from your core began to climb up your body again. He found a rhythm and could feel as your pussy began to clench.

“Duchess, I can feel you’re close. It feels so good. You’re always so good to me.” His praise pulled you that much closer to the edge, hands grasping for purchase across his back, slipping slightly from the thin layer of sweat.

“Fuck, Angel. So tight. It’s okay, you can let go. Let go for me.” Ari needed you to come for him. He needed to feel your body sucking him in, holding him tighter. He pulled his head from your neck to look into your eyes when it happened. He moved his thumb down to your clit, rubbing tight circles and sending you over the cliff you were hanging on.

“Oh god, Ari!” You keened, your ankles locking around his narrow hips as your entire body contracted in ecstasy. Ari wasn’t far behind, the tightness surrounding him causing him to drive his hips all the way forward and spill into the condom. He collapsed over your chest again as he grunted lowly into your ear.

The two of you stayed there for a few minutes as you caught your breaths. He pulled back, his now dry hair draping over the sides of his face and framing yours, making a small world where it was only the two of you. His silky brown locks blocked everything else out. The only thing in existence was your shared gaze, filled with hazy satisfaction and dopey smiles.

Ari leaned down and kissed your lips, and then your forehead before he whispered to you. “I’m going to pull out, okay? You stay here while I go get a washcloth.”

You nodded and gasped as you felt the sensation of the ridges of his dick passing against your walls until you were empty. On instinct you rolled over to your side and closed your legs, still sporadically convulsing from the orgasm. Ari returned and cleaned you up, pulling up the covers and crawling into bed behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you closer.

He kissed you shoulder and muttered. “I’m so happy to have you. I love you so much.”

You turned over and tangled your legs with his, pulling him in for a lazy, filthy kiss. “I love you, and I’m the luckiest person in the world. Or more like, my whole world was just in me.”

You winked at Ari as his shoulders bounced in laughter at your ridiculous statement. You were drunk in happiness, but neither of you would have it any other way. You slung your arm around his waist and nestled deeply into his chest, a satisfied smile on your face.

Next >

Bonus A/N: as Paris Hilton says, “that’s hot”

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 9

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 5,000 Warnings: Angst, canonical character death, hurt/comfort and many, many feels.

Part 9: Intensive Care

You only felt a little ridiculous repeating yourself for the hospital receptionist.

“Dean McGillicuddy,” you said. Your nails tapped impatiently on the counter. Meanwhile, the woman behind the desk seemed to take her sweet time sorting through the computer records.

“He’s in Intensive Care,” she informed you. “Just so you know, only family members are allowed to visit at this time. What’s your relation to the patient?”

You made the decision to lie before you even really thought about it—with an age-old tactic since the movie While You Were Sleeping, circa 1995. 

“I’m his fiancé,” you said. “What’s the room number?” 

Once she gave you the room, you booked it down the hall and up the stairs three floors (the elevator was taking too long). You were breathing heavier by the time you swept into the room, but then your lungs constricted. 

A gasp got stuck in your throat when you saw Dean. He laid intubated in the hospital bed, with several wires crisscrossed along the floor, two monitors steadily beeping, various bruises and lacerations spread across his face and arms, and a nasty cut stitched down his forehead. 

“Dean…” Tears welled up in your eyes.

Standing beyond his bed was an older man you hadn’t seen before. He had dark hair, a salt-and-pepper beard, handsome features. He also looked banged up with his arm in a sling (presumably from the accident), and in his blood-stained undershirt, wrinkled buttoned-down, and jeans. He looked up at you, confused and suspicious.

“Who are you?” he asked. There was edge in his deep voice, and his posture straightened. Defensive. Protective.

Another small gasp fell from your lips. Your gaze lifted from Dean to the man’s face and you instinctively told him your name.

He seemed to recognize it in an instant. His eyes widened as he realized who you were, then they softened. His shoulders loosened.

So you approached Dean’s bed and raised a shaking hand to the crown of his head. Very gently, you brushed back his hair, traced the outline of his stitches down his forehead. You sought the warm thread of your soul bond, but you couldn’t feel him at all. The connection was solid, but silent. 

The man on Dean’s other side shifted on his feet, bracing one hand on the bed frame. You then realized this must be John Winchester, Dean’s father, who you’d never met before. And he was watching you with some measure of curiosity. 

With a hot blush, you remembered your manners and stuck out your hand across the bed.  

“I’m glad to finally meet you, Mr. Winchester…sir.”

After a beat, his shoulders relaxed. His lips pulled into a smile and he took your hand.

“Just John is fine,” he said. “...Dean’ll be happy you’re here.”

You gave a weak smile. John was slow to lower back into his seat at Dean’s right, while you stood at Dean’s left. Before you could find something else to say, Sam walked in with a duffel bag and hell on his heels. He spared you a smile and a hug when he noticed you.  

“Good to see you,” he said, with a gentle pat of your back. You let out a halting breath.

“You too,” you replied. Despite the circumstances.

But when Sam released you and looked at his father, his face fell into a tight frown.

“Something wrong?” John asked.

Sam’s lips pursed. He dumped the duffel bag at his father’s feet. “You think I wouldn’t find out?” 

John’s brows furrowed. “What’re you talking about?”

“That stuff from Bobby. You don’t use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one,” Sam said. “You’re planning on bringing the demon here and having some stupid macho showdown!”

This conversation was lost on you, but you weren’t about to interrupt. You sat down on the edge of the bed, took Dean’s hand, and watched Sam in worry. John, however, looked calm.

“I have a plan, Sam,” he said.

“That’s exactly my point!” Sam shouted. “Dean is dying, and you have a plan. You know, you care more about killing this demon than you do about your own son!”

You’d never seen him so angry before. It was starting to scare you, especially when he emphasized that Dean was dying. 

Fresh tears burned in your eyes and your lower lip wobbled as you looked down at Dean. You didn’t notice that John glanced at you before answering his son.

“Do not tell me how I feel,” John argued back. “I am doing this for Dean.”

Sam glared incredulously. “How? How is revenge going to help him? You’re not thinking of anybody but yourself! It’s the same selfish obsession!”   

“You know what, I thought this was your obsession too,” John shot back. “This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be a part of this hunt! Now, if you killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would’ve happened!”

“It was possessing you, Dad!” Sam ground out. “I would have killed you too.”

You perked up at that, mostly confused. You’d pieced together that the demon had somehow caused their car crash, but it had possessed John too?

“Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now,” John said. 

“Go to hell,” Sam spat. 

It probably wasn’t your place to interrupt, but part of you wanted to speak up and stop this. You started to feel a growing sense of anxiety and frustration, even anger at these two men. You had the sudden urge to tell both of them to shut the hell up. 

Then a quiet gasp fell from between your lips as you realized something. You were anxious, yes, and scared. But angry? 

Had that thought really been yours?

It felt a bit like that first time, long ago. When you were a child standing in a cold cemetery on the worst day of your life, but you started to sense thoughts and feelings that weren’t your own…

“I should’ve never have taken you along in the first place,” John said. “I knew it was a mistake!”

Sam opened his mouth to spew back a hot retort, until a glass of water on the rolling tray between them fell and shattered on the tile ground.

I said shut up!

This time when you gasped, both John and Sam noticed you. Both quieted with apologetic looks. 

And one of Dean’s monitors started to beep more rapidly. All three of you stared at it for a moment in shock—and then it flatlined. 

Sam rushed out of the room and called for help while you pressed the emergency button multiple times. John called his eldest son’s name, and was still trying to reach him when the nurses rushed in. Two of the nurses guided you out of the way. You didn’t want to leave his side, but in shock and desperation you looked back at Sam. He gently took you by the shoulders over by the door. 

John also leaned against the wall while the medical staff tried more than once to resuscitate Dean with the defibrillator. Each shock arched his chest, but didn’t stabilize his heart. 

“No,” Sam said, shaking his head. Tears poured down your face as you hiccupped a sob.   

“Still no pulse,” the nurse said. The doctor nodded.

“Okay, let’s go again,” he said. “360.”

“Charging.”

“Clear.”

“All clear.”

By the third round, you were all but leaning against Sam with your face buried in his side. His supportive arm wrapped around your shoulder. He had the door jam in a death grip with his other hand.

I said get back!

The thought rang out clear as a bell in your mind. This time you could even hear Dean’s voice. 

And his heartbeat finally stabilized into a steady rhythm. You let out a shaking sob in relief. Sam’s hand tightened on your shoulder and he led you to a nearby chair. You looked up at him, not knowing what you wanted to say or what to think. Sam had similar relieved tears in his eyes. He nodded and let out a sigh before he turned back to his father, who looked three shades paler. 

“Want to get back to your room?” Sam said. After a moment, John seemed to snap out of it and actually see his younger son. He nodded, though his gaze was focused on Dean. Sam’s lips pressed, but he went over and helped make sure his dad made it back to his hospital room.

“I’m sorry about that. All that arguing,” Sam said. He returned to you in Dean’s room with a cup of coffee for you. “Me and my dad…we don’t always see eye-to-eye.”

That was a bit more than a petty argument, but okay, you thought. 

“I can relate,” you said. “But Sam, what happened? What caused the crash?”

Sam hesitated, but he proceeded to tell you more about the Yellow Eyed demon, as well as the events that started from Sam and Dean finding their father, and the demon, and ending with being hit full-force by a mack truck. 

It was a lot to process with one watery cup of coffee, but you managed with a slight tremor in your hands. 

Sam assessed you.

“Did you drive here without stopping?” he asked.

You looked down at yourself and realized you were still wearing your blouse, skirt, and heels for work. You had stopped at your house briefly to grab a few things, but you still hadn’t changed or eaten since you left the museum.

“More or less,” you said.

“Maybe you should—”

“Sam,” you interrupted, “I…I heard something. Felt something. I think…I think it was Dean.”

Sam straightened in his seat across from you. “You did?”

“Through the…our connection,” you said. “When the glass shattered, and again when he…before they brought him back.”

Sam brought his folded hands to his lips as he thought. A determined look then flashed across his face. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” you asked. 

“I can…well, it’s a long story. But basically, I felt him too. I’m going to see if we can do something with that,” Sam admitted. You didn’t know what he meant, but you weren’t about to stop him. He left you alone with your coffee and your thoughts. 

You got up from your chair and made your way to Dean’s bedside. You touched his hand, his long fingers and scraped knuckles. You sought out the warm current of energy inside your mind, and you tugged on the soul bond.

Dean? 

You waited, but there was no response. 

Dean, can you hear me? you tried again. 

Nothing. Your shoulders fell as you deflated. The damage to his brain was enough to be unpredictable, but still, the doctor had very little hope that Dean would wake up.

You bit your lower lip to stop it from trembling. Tears still worked their way down your face. You covered it with your hands, as if you could block out the world and stop it from moving forward.

You just didn’t know that Dean’s ghost-like spirit was standing right next to you. He’d tried to call out to you, to Sam, to John several times, but none of you could hear him. Now, his heart was tearing at the sight of you. 

Unlike in phone calls and emails and texts you two had shared over the past year, he couldn’t just tell you it was going to be all right anymore. 

Because this time, he had no idea what he was going to do.

Sam brought in a Ouija board to try and communicate with the spirit that was most likely Dean. You were skeptical, and even wary of that hoodoo crap, but Sam asked you to trust him.

Eventually, Sam was successful in contacting Dean. He was able to tell you and Sam that an actual reaper was after him.

“What’s a reaper? As in black hood and scythe—Grim Reaper?” you asked Sam. 

“Pretty much,” he said. “They help schlep souls to the afterlife. But if one’s here naturally for Dean…damn it.”

“What?” you asked in worry. 

“He’s…he’s screwed,” Sam said. “There’s no way to stop it.”

That gripped you icily, but the thread of energy inside you pulsed in your chest. You raised a hand to your heart.

Our souls are like molecules, you remembered Dean telling you once. Just trying to connect.

“No,” you replied. “I can still feel him, which means he isn’t gone. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“I’m going to find out,” Sam said. He’d renewed his determination with a stealed look. “There’s gotta be a way. Dad will know what to do.”

Sam got up and once again left you alone in the room, packing up the board as he went. 

You let out a shaky sigh. He was likely off to do his own research…but so could you!

You went down to your car and grabbed your laptop (plus a sandwich from the food court). From there you returned to Dean’s bedside, tore into a tuna melt, and started looking up everything you could find on reapers.

It had been a long drive from South Dakota, and the most trying hours of your life, but you focused on the screen in front of you. 

A few hours later, you struggled to keep your bleary eyes open and had to jolt yourself awake. You hadn’t found anything that could help Dean so far.

With a sigh, you set your laptop in the second, now empty chair. 

Dean? you tried again, but you could no longer feel his spirit like you had before. The bond was there, but it wasn’t thrumming strong. It was just…steady. 

For now, a traitorous thought whispered. You shook your head and got up from the chair, stretching your cracking back as you went. You’d kicked off your heels a while ago, so you padded barefoot to Dean’s bedside and sat down. You took comfort in watching his chest rise and fall in easy sleep. Or at least, you could pretend he was just sleeping.

Okay, channeling Sandra Bullock, you thought with a slight smile. You brushed your fingers through his short sandy hair, which was shades lighter than Sam’s and his father’s. Maybe Dean took after his mother. 

“I’m grateful, you know,” you said. Maybe it was silly to talk to him out loud, but getting the words out made you feel like he could actually hear you this time.

“Bobby, my dad, your dad. None of them got the time they thought they were going to have with their person. So…so however long we get, I’ll try to be all right with that,” you said, even though your voice started to break. 

“I just want you know, before anything else happens…that I love you,” you confessed. “I love you. The only regret I have is that I didn’t make you take me with you when you left. Because if I’m honest, I hate that you keep leaving me behind.”

You covered your face at the tears sliding down, trying and failing to blot them out. That’s when Sam returned. He was apologetic when he noticed the state you were in, but you waved him in anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you cry today.

“Have you found anything?” you asked, sniffling.

“I’ve looked, but there’s nothing that can repel or kill a reaper. I can’t find my dad either,” he said. 

That fell between you with a heavy thud. You didn’t want to acknowledge his words, so you distracted yourself. You noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes.  

“Do you need a coffee? You look like you do. I’ll get you one,” you said. You wiped your face and got up to do just that, slipping your heels back on. Sam smiled.

“When you do that, it kind of reminds me of Dean,” he said. 

Your head tilted curiously. “What?”

“He may not look it, but he’s been looking after me…pretty much my whole life,” Sam admitted.  

You smiled. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

When you left, Sam’s smile dropped. He approached his brother’s bedside.

“I don’t know how to help you,” he said. “But I’ll keep trying, all right? For her sake, for everyone…as long as you keep fighting.”

He smiled and laughed a little. “I mean, you can’t leave me alone here with dad. We’ll kill each other, you know that. Dean…you gotta hold on. You can’t go, man. Not now. We were just starting to be brothers again.”

Sam let out a shuddering sigh. He stood in silence there for a few minutes, just wracking his brain. What can I do? What the fuck do I do? 

When you returned, Sam was still standing in the same spot. He almost didn’t hear you when you offered him his cup of coffee. 

“Sam,” you started, but that was when both of you heard a hacking cough.

A gasp fell from your lips.

Dean was choking on his breathing tube because he was awake. Sam went to press the call button while you called for a nurse. Soon enough the room was crowded again with medical personnel. But this time, your tears were born of relief.

“Do you want some more water? Or are you hungry?” you asked. “I think I can snag you a sandwich from downstairs instead of the potato surprise they got cooked up for your neighbors.”

Dean stopped you from fluffing his pillow again. Sam sat at his right, not bothering to cover up his smile. 

“Hey, just stop, okay. Relax,” Dean said. He reached for your busy hands and un-busied them. He brought you down to sit on the edge of his bed. He liked the look of you in your pretty white blouse, black skirt, and heels. But he didn’t like how exhausted you and Sam looked. 

Dean stroked the back of your hand and glanced at Sam.

“You said a reaper was after me?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”  

“How’d I ditch it?” Dean asked.

“You got me,” Sam replied. “Dean, you really don’t remember anything?”

Dean rubbed his stomach with his free hand. “No, except for this pit in my stomach. Sam, something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?” you asked in concern. Dean almost kicked himself. He didn’t want to worry you—

“I’d rather you tell me the truth than hide it from me,” you told him, more sternly. You’d picked up on the trail of his thoughts through the bond, which was once again flaring with life.

His lips quirked. “Damn. Forgot we’re basically human lie detectors again.”

“Yeah.” Your lips quirked into a smile. “So don’t bother trying, tough guy.” 

There was a knock on the door, making all three of you turn to see John Winchester. He stood in the doorway to Dean’s hospital room with his arm in a sling. 

“How you feelin’, dude?” John asked with a smile.

“Fine, I guess,” Dean replied. “I’m alive.”

You squeezed his hand at that, and he gave you a small smile. 

“That’s what matters,” John agreed.

“Where were you last night?” Sam asked. He stood from his seat, crossing his arms at his father. 

“I had some things to take care of,” John replied.

“Well, that’s specific.”

“Come on, Sam,” Dean interjected. You felt his annoyance and sensed this was an ongoing battle between the three men. That Dean had often been the one trying to play peacemaker here. The argument you witnessed between John and Sam made a lot more sense to you now. 

“Did you go after the demon?” Sam pressed.

John shook his head. “No.”

“You know, why don’t I believe you right now?” Sam snapped. 

Dean held in a sigh, lowering his head. He was too tired to do this balancing act between his father and brother. 

You rubbed his arm, though you looked between Sam and John uncertainly. You weren’t sure what to do either…

But John stepped into the room and kept his tone civil, even gentle. 

“Can we not fight?” he asked. “You know, half the time we’re fightin’, I don’t know what we’re fightin’ about. We’re just buttin’ heads.” 

Sam quieted then. He looked like he hadn’t been expecting that.

“Look, Sammy, I…I’ve made some mistakes. But I’ve always done the best I could,” John said. “I just don’t wanna fight anymore, okay?”

John looked damn near close to tears. According to Dean, this was a former Marine made of leather and grit and not much softness in between. You watched John in concern.

“Dad, are you okay?” Sam asked. He was picking up on the same thing—that something was off here.

But John only smiled. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just a little tired,” he said. “Hey, son, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?”

Sam agreed, though he still looked uncertain. John watched him leave, then his gaze turned to his eldest. You picked up on the subtle distraction for Sam, that maybe John wanted to talk with Dean in private. So you squeezed Dean’s hand and grabbed his water cup as you stood.

“I’m gonna refill this for you. I’ll be back,” you said. 

“Thanks, baby,” Dean said, though he reluctantly let you go. 

You weren’t proud of this, but when you left the room, you also left the door open a crack and stood near it with your back against the wall. You were too curious about John Winchester. While you’d gotten the gist of his relationship with Sam, you had only a small idea of what his relationship with Dean was like.

Meanwhile, inside the room, John stood by his son’s bedside. 

“You lucked out with that girl,” John said with a smile. Dean’s was softer, and you felt the warmth of it in your chest. 

“She’s…hell, I don't know why she puts up with me.” 

You were careful to keep your thoughts and emotions from Dean, but you couldn’t help melting at that. It made you feel a bit guilty for that part of you that resented him leaving you. His reasons were important, and as much as you hated the fact that hunting had landed him in the hospital, damn near dead…you understood his family’s fight.

But you were soon shaken from your thoughts as John said something unexpected.

“I’m sorry I told you not to go after her a few years ago,” he said. “Another one of those mistakes…they seem to keep pilin’ up.”

Dean looked at his father a bit harder. There was something wrong. “What’s going on, Dad?”

You listened as John apologized to Dean. He’d put too much on a child’s shoulders. He should’ve protected his son, both of his sons, better. He shouldn’t have made Dean grow up so fast. 

“I just want you to know that I am so proud of you,” John added. 

You sensed Dean’s discomfort, even as your heart broke for him. 

“This really you talking?” Dean asked. John laughed a bit. 

“Yeah, it’s really me.” 

“Why’re you saying this stuff?”

You couldn’t hear what John said next, but you felt Dean’s reaction. Shock, disbelief, confusion—it was a confusing mix to try and sort through. And it only piqued your curiosity further. Before you could figure it out though, the hospital room door opened.

You scrambled to make it look like you had just gotten back, but John graciously smiled and didn’t comment on your obvious eavesdropping.

“Do me favor, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Uh, sure, what do you need?” you asked. 

“Dean can be a bit like me. Stubborn,” he said. “Just…look after him for me, okay?” 

You looked up at him in slight confusion. “Of course.”

Though you nodded, you were also concerned. Was he planning to make a run for it without his sons again? Was he going to go after Yellow Eyes himself? 

John rested a gentle hand on your shoulder as he passed by you down the hall. You watched him go, but Sam returned with his dad’s requested coffee in hand. 

“I think he went back to his room,” you told him. “Though you might want to check in on your dad. Something seems a bit off with him.”

Sam frowned. He also touched your shoulder as he passed by, and it made you smile. Maybe it’s a Winchester thing.

You took a breath and refilled Dean’s water like you promised you would. When you got back to his room, his greeting smile was weaker than usual. You wanted to ask him about what his dad had meant by years ago, but…you didn’t think this was the time. Dean needed rest.

You set the cup of water on the rolling tray and once again sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Are you hungry? I’ll get you that sandwich, unless you want something else,” you offered. 

“I want you to stop running around,” Dean said. He sighed and rested a hand on your thigh. “I’m sorry about all this.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “You were hurt, Dean. You don’t need to be sorry.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he said. His eyes were serious, boring into yours. You bit your lip in concern.

“But, there is something I want,” he said, a note of teasing in his voice. He tugged on your hand, playfully pulling you toward him. You inched a bit closer. 

“Come on, all the way,” he beckoned with a hand. You couldn’t help but smile and let him pull you into his arms, and then in for a soft kiss. It didn’t take long for him to deepen it, his warm hand spanning the small of your back. 

He’d been cleared by the doctor, but you were still careful with him when you touched the side of his face. It was rough with days of stubble. And he would be lucky if he didn’t have a scar left from the cut down his forehead. 

The past year alone had changed him, but you were so grateful he was alive.

Stroking his cheek, you pulled away so you could see his face. You wanted to tell him you loved him while he was awake. So you did.

“I love you, you know that?” you said. “Whether it was God, or the universe, or sheer luck of the draw, I’m glad you’re the one I got saddled with. You’re the one my soul chose.”

You both saw and felt Dean’s soft shock. Your words touched him in a way that maybe even he didn’t fully understand. 

His mouth fell open to respond, but before he could, both of you noticed a team of nurses and assistants rushing down the hallway. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Dean wondered. 

“Stay here. I’ll go check,” you said. You didn’t want him getting out of bed just yet, even if he was mysteriously healed. 

You hurried into the hall and followed the rush, only to find Sam.

He was holding John’s body on the ground, shouting, crying, and trying to shake his father awake. 

Dean’s body healed, but his heart was not so easily persuaded.

The three of you returned to South Dakota and performed a small, quiet funeral for John Winchester. Bobby explained that burning his body was insurance—so his spirit wouldn’t linger like your mom’s had. 

It made sense, but it still felt wrong to you to burn their father out in the open woods like this. It felt like it wasn’t enough. And though Dean tried to hide it from the bond, you knew he was breaking inside, just like Sam was. 

In the days afterwards, Sam and Dean stayed with Bobby while the latter worked on restoring the Impala, which had basically been crunched like a pretzel in the crash. It was beyond totaled, but if you had learned one thing about Dean, it was that this car was sacred. Even if there was one working part, it was worth taking it apart and putting it back together again.

So you watched him work in the salvage yard from inside the kitchen, where you and Bobby talked over a glass of iced tea. Slowly but surely, you were trying to get the man to cut back on the liquor.

“Something wasn’t right about it, Bobby,” you said. “When I talked to him, John was fine. He asked me to look after Dean, like he was about to take off by himself again. Like he knew he was going to leave, or…”

Like he knew he was going to die, your mind finished what you couldn’t say.

Bobby hefted a long sigh. He looked out the kitchen window at Dean for a moment. 

“Bobby?” you prodded.

“The Colt is missing,” he said. 

You nodded. The Colt was a gun, made by a known gun maker and hunter, Samuel Colt, in 1835. Sam and Dean had told you that this gun was made with special bullets. It was the only weapon on earth that could possibly kill any supernatural creature, including the Yellow Eyed demon. 

“The demon took it, didn’t he?” you said. 

“I think John gave it to him,” Bobby said. Your eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

“I think it was a trade,” he replied. “Dean’s life for John’s, and the gun that could kill him.”

And by him, you assumed he meant Yellow Eyes. Which meant that John hadn’t been after the demon, like Sam had assumed. John had struck a deal instead. 

A few days later, Sam convinced Dean to come with him to investigate an old voicemail on one of John’s phones—from a woman named Ellen. Dean was more inclined to keep working on his car, but he reluctantly agreed to find this woman at a bar in Nebraska, called Harvelle’s Roadhouse.  

You came by Bobby’s house after work to catch them before they left. You watched Dean pack his bag in swift moves. His face was relaxed, but he was careful to keep his thoughts and emotions to himself, away from the bond. You handed him a shirt of his that you had been borrowing, and he took it with a brief “thanks.” He hadn’t truly looked at you in days.

“Dean.” You halted him with a gentle hand on his arm. It got him to look at you, at least. 

“If you need anything, even if it’s just to talk, just call me,” you said. He gave you a smile that barely reached his eyes. 

“I’m fine, really,” he said. “But thanks. I’ll let you know when we’re on the way back. Guarantee, this isn’t gonna take long.”

That wasn’t what Sam said, but Dean just kissed you on the cheek and made his way downstairs to meet his brother.   

That was Monday. It was a Saturday by the time they got back, so you were able to come by your uncle’s house and catch the brothers talking outside. You started to head toward them, but you sensed Dean’s unease through the bond. So you hung back behind a large van that at the very least, needed a new bumper.

“About me and Dad,” you heard Sam say. “I’m sorry the last time I was with him, I tried to pick a fight. I’m sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him. So, you’re right. What I’m doing right now is too little. It’s too late.”

You heard emotion start to make Sam’s voice tremble, and your heart broke for him too.

“I miss him, man,” he said. “And I feel guilty as hell. And I’m not all right, not at all…but neither are you. That much I know.”

A tendril of Dean’s irritation made it through your bond. But it was laced with deeper emotions than you’d ever felt from him—self-loathing and disgust with himself being the least of them. You covered your mouth with a shaky hand.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Sam said. You heard his boots crunch toward you, but you couldn’t make yourself move. 

When Sam eventually found you, he looked surprised to see you, but then he softened and laid a hand on your shoulder. 

What should I do? you wanted to ask him. You didn’t know what Dean needed right now. Did he need space? Should you try to talk to him, comfort him? And if you did, what the hell should you say? 

Dean had seemed to know exactly how to comfort you after you burned your mother’s ring, laying her to rest. Before that, he’d gotten you to open up about Danny Schmitt and how that experience had rattled you. But now, you couldn’t do the same for Dean, your boyfriend. Your soulmate. 

Sam didn’t have words for you either though. He just continued inside the house, leaving you standing at a crossroads of decision. 

Right now, you felt like a failure. Your mom had always known what to say to your dad. Their connection had seemed…well, seamless. 

But you were startled out of your thoughts when you heard a crash of metal on metal. You rushed out to the clearing where Dean had already spent two weeks working on the Impala. Now he was wrecking the hood and body all over again with a large crowbar. 

You remained at a distance for a minute, not sure how to get closer but too worried to leave him be. 

Dean? you reached out tentatively with your mind.

His hands tightened on the crowbar as he struck the dented hood of the car again. Then he beat through the windows with a spectacular shatter of glass.

You flinched with a small gasp. But that sound was enough to cut through it all, at least for Dean. He stopped short, though he was heaving for breath. He looked back at you over his shoulder, his eyes widening. 

He lowered his arms and was purposefully slow when he tossed the crowbar back onto the car’s hood, letting it go. He didn’t want to face you again. You knew because you felt his shame come through the connection.

You were hesitant at first, but you deemed it safe enough to approach him. His gaze stayed on the ground, even when you touched his back. His shirt was dusty and drenched with sweat. 

Sorry, he imparted to you. 

You shook your head and slipped your hand into his. He squeezed your hand, and that gave you the courage to wrap your free hand around his arm and press yourself against his tall, strong frame from behind. But he didn’t always have to be strong.

I love you, you reminded him. Your dad loved you too. 

You let out a shaky breath. 

The last thing he said to me was a request, you said, and with a slight smile, He said you could be a lot like him sometimes, a bit too stubborn. He asked me to take care of you…and I promised that I would.

Dean breathed heavily through his nose. You knew he was fighting it, but you rubbed his arm and stayed there until the dam in both of your minds finally broke.

He released everything he was hiding from you. All his shame, the depths of his distress and grief. It all but shredded your heart. 

Tears burned in your eyes and fell, but you didn’t let that stop you from slipping around him and taking his face in your hands. When he looked down at you, his eyes were shining and red.

His mouth trembled, but neither of you spoke. You just leaned up and wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders, bringing him to you as tight and warm as you could. 

His arms likewise slipped around your frame. At first it was just instinctive, holding you back. But as you continued to rub his back and soothe your fingers through his hair, his tight shoulders loosened.

Dean clung to you then, burying his face into your hair, your neck, pressing his lips into your skin. 

And he let go. 

AN: Whew, lots of drama and feels there. Every time I watch 2.01 I wanna give both brothers a ginormous hug. Especially Dean, poor guy.

But the reader finally met John (however brief that was). And she finally let Dean know exactly how she feels. The question is: when will Dean?

So let me know what you thought of this chapter!

The next one will be a bit lighter: the reader and Dean go on their first real date!

To keep reading: PART 10

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[the-fiction-witch]

Arrangement

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet + Flirty

I approached the impressive house feeling rather sheepish in my slightly more upper-class clothes, no stained sleeves today it was not the day for them. I had been considering settling down for a while now as life in port victory had become more comfortable and the time just seemed right, I had wanted to go about it on my own when a man In my ward happened to ask me about my marital status, I believed at the time he was merely making conversation with me, so I told him and here we are three months later and I'm in an arranged marriage with his daughter. It's been a funny few months… But it was nice not to have to do the whole, courting and engagement business, plus her father is the third richest man in port victory after the governor, and captain gains, and she is his only child meaning she is certain to inherit the fortune, and house, and business, so… that's a bonus. We are to meet today for the first time and in a week we shall be married.

He had floated the idea of meeting her on our wedding day but I nicked that idea quickly, I at least want to meet her before we go through with his… just in case she's nuts. I approached the impressive house second only to the governor's estate where I saw Mr Y/l/n, his wife and his daughter. I wanted not to look at her wanting to save my reaction but I couldn't help but glance, She stood trying to hide her rage inside a blank emotionless expression, her black gown across her body, her boots against the gravel and her velvet gloves across her hands, her long Y/c/H hair braided down her back with gladiolus flowers and looked only at the gravel. She kept her eyes on the roses in the arch around the house's door, her mother and father beside her as they waited. She was angry but clearly, I couldn't reveal her emotions, she had worn a slightly more funeral wardrobe you'd imagine the bride to be in white, cream or something else light not pure black this was her protest, and my first thought was I looked at her.

'She's quite pretty,' "Ahh Doctor Dawkins Pleasure to see you again, been too long since I saw my soon to be son in law," Mr Y/l/n smiled as he offered his hand, I took his hand and gave it a firm shake doing my best to be confident, "Yes of course Pleasure to see you again Sir." "And of course my sweet wife Elis," He introduced, she came forward in her sweet dress and slightly curtsied to me, "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Y/l/n," I smiled at her doing my best to be polite and respectful as I know she reads lips mostly, She smiled and finally I was introduced to her.

"And of course, it is my pleasure to introduce you, Doctor Dawkins, to my beautiful, beloved daughter Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, You're bride-to-be." I finally got a good look at her, her gloved hands in front of her stomach politely, she was beautiful and her body was certainly attractive I wouldn't mind being married to that, I suppose I will be. She looked like a painting with a distant beauty as if I could look but not touch. I wanted to stroke her sweet cheek, to run my finger across her red lips, she was breathtaking the more I looked at her and I admit I was a little speechless which is rare for me. I did my best to be confident and charming even if this was a little awkward when remembering in a week I'll be married to her and all I know is her name. It hit me as I looked at her, this was real this girl is really the woman I'm getting married to, this is really my bride, But I admit… I kinda can't wait to get to know her.

I tried to find the words for a moment but forced my nervousness away and did my best to be confident, and passionate, and show her love and affection as we only had a week to get to know one another before the wedding, and I didn't want her to feel I was just going through the motions with her, If I wanted this beautiful woman to be my wife I have to win her over or I'd possibly lose her, and I didn't dare want to lose her to any other man. As I looked at her… I felt like, I wanted to see her every day, I wanted her to be the girl I come home to, and I wanted to be the man she wanted to wake up to for the rest of our lives. I wanted to show her how good a husband I'd be for her and sweep her off her feet.

I finally got some courage and spoke up, "Miss Y/l/n, you're even lovelier than I had imagined, forgive me if I stare I am not used to seeing ladies as sweet as you," I told her, why do I feel so nervous? maybe she really is just that pretty. She hadn't even said anything and I felt like a teenager asking his first girl out, but I wanted to make a good first impression on the woman I was to marry.

She rolled her eyes before they met my own for a few seconds, she glanced me up and down almost inspecting me but that was fair she had never seen me before and I was to be her husband I didn't mind she wanted to have a bit of a judge, her eyes lingered on my hair and the side of her nose twitched like a little rabbit, I know that look, she wants to fix my hair for some reason. She rolled her shoulders a little and offered her gloved hand, "Pleasure Doctor Dawkins," she said trying to hide her anger behind politeness and it not really working, Ohh? She's feisty and pretty, I like her attitude. She took her hand away and briefly wiped the hand I kissed on the skirt of her dress before her father spoke up, "Now come along, let's take the newly engaged couple on their first walk around the garden" he said more to his wife before leading her to the gardens for a walk Y/n rolled her eyes as her parents before she offered her arm to me so she could be lead on the walk.

I smiled rather eagerly not wanting to waste our time together, I took her arm and began to lead her like a gentleman behind her parents on a nice walk in the gardens it felt rather… storybookish, as I led her on our first stroll as an engaged couple she didn't look at me keeping her eyes on the plants so I broke our quiet. "Something wrong with my lips?" I teased her, "Pardon?" She asked her voice like warm milk and honey, like satin across my ears that certainly is a voice I could get used to. "You wiped my kiss," I reminded her, "I don't know where you've been," She answered with a serious tone as we walked, I laughed a moment "Uhh how do you want me to answer? that I've been kissing the hands of beautiful ladies? or performing surgery? or been down the disorderly house?" "I don't know how you spend your time doctor," she briefly met my eyes before returning her view to the flowers,

I didn't want to admit how I spent my time, that's not the best idea… so I decided to well… lie. But I need to impress her, "well, for your information, I spend my time at the orphanage, tending to the children's scrapes and bruises. it may not be the most prestigious way to spend time, but I find it very rewarding." I told her as gentlemanly as I could, I didn't exactly want to tell her I spent my nights in the cat and bagpipes with a girl on my knee gambling my money away on cards. she chuckled a moment biting her lip before she spoke shooting me a glare "Is that so?" "Yes it is, I take great pride in it," "Port Victory doesn't have an orphanage." She reminded, Shit. Well, she's got me there… I'm in too deep, lie my way out of this! "Well… how would you know, Miss Y/l/n? Have you ever been to the orphanage in the town?" I asked trying to tease her "as a matter of fact I have, I have visited all three of the orphanages within the country, Father patrons two of them and I personally patron the other with my allowance from the stock father invested in my name when I was young," she explained with a wicked smirk, "and I have never heard of you visiting any of them Doctor Dawkins," Ahh… well shit. she's really calling me out right now? I have to admit… I kinda like it, she's a little tease, it's refreshing and… a little sexy, Humm my little firecracker.

"Well…umm…yeah…I've been busy…" I lied, doing my best to get out of this without it being completely exposed that I lied to her the very first conversation we had, that's not the best start, and I didn't want to tell her the truth that's not exactly going to impress her. "So shall I ask again how you spend your time doctor?" She glared, "You are to be my husband there is no purpose lying to me, I'll find out once we are married anyway" She sighed, even the word husband was hard for her to say the word married sounded like a foreign language in her mouth, I smiled and sighed. I am defeated in this argument. I know I can't lie any longer. she's found me out and it looks like I going to have to come clean. she's right…she's going to be my wife. there's no sense in trying to lie or hide it from her…I have to come clean, I pause for a moment and decide how to answer. "I'm a gambler and a man of debauchery…just like most other men." "I see," she said avoiding my eyes seeming to not react at all she's not angry or shocked. she doesn't seem to care. I thought I'd been caught but she's not mad…she's not even surprised… that's a bad sign… "What is your game? When you gamble?" She spoke up as we walked, I smiled, thankful that she was keeping the conversation going. "I'm quite fond of high-stakes poker. I've been known to bet the shirt off my back for a good hand. I also know my way around a game of dice…."

she chuckled "Risk drunk sort of man I see?" She smiled wickedly and tightened her grip on my arm a little as we walked, "I prefer rummy myself but I don't dislike poker I find it more a game of reading people than reading cards" I was a little surprised at my proper little lady, "Sure, reading people is important. but it's a game of luck more than anything else. when the cards are in your favour, nothing else matters. I know what I'm doing when it comes to cards. I've won plenty of times against people with way too much money and way too little sense…" "umm you shall have to give me a game later in the parlour" "Really? Do you want to play me in a match of cards? I warn you…I'm quite the card shark… don't expect me to go easy on you just because we're engaged," "I assure you I can handle myself" she winked, I smirked at her little wink, she's an exceptionally sassy little minx and I love it! I'd been used to playing with the rough and rowdy men at the tavern but… to imagine a future where I come home from work to my beautiful wife to a nice dinner and we cosy up in the parlour with a game of cards, I'm not sure I could be happier?

I rather think I might be getting a little smitten with her. she's intelligent, articulate, and not easily intimidated. she's also beautiful, passionate, and charismatic. she's an amazing person, and I am feeling more and more attracted to her with every moment that passes "I will certainly give you a game later then," "I look forward to it, what else do you do between saving lives in surgery and drinking between poker hands?" She asked as we walked slowly she got a little closer to me and made eye contact more often, slowly her walls were lowering and I did know my own are too. "I spend a lot of my time with friends. we meet at the tavern weekly and play a few games of dice or cards. we have great banter…and sometimes things get a little rowdy…" "rowdy? How rowdy?" I chuckled, "How rowdy do you think a group of men get when they meet every week to gamble and drink? we often wager things like our clothes, our hats, our watches, or even our boots! it can get quite rowdy indeed."

"I see, well don't be expecting our games to be wagering such things at least until the wedding" she laughed, "Well, I suppose that's for the best. our games should be more civilized, shouldn't they? since we are going to be husband and wife soon enough. my behaviour should be appropriate…" I smirked, ummm even if I don't want it to be my little firecracker. God her parents weren't here I would have my hands all over her dress by now. "it should, I take it you play down at the cat and bagpipes or do you have some secret little place?" She asked, I smirked a little that she even knew of the Cat and Bagpipes, I paused for a moment, thinking the cat and bagpipes is full of unsavoury characters…it's a boisterous scene. but she seems eager to know, but should I really be telling her these things? "It is my favoured spot, yes, but I do at times pop over places prearranged of course just last week we were in the captain's quarters of a ship that had docked.

"Forgive my questions, I merely wish to truly meet the man I am to be married to" she explained playing with her gloves a little, "if I may ask one more?" "yes, of course. what would you like to ask?" I nodded, I didn't want to stop her after all she had every right to want to know about me and I suppose it would help me learn more about her too, "I am well aware of the cat and bagpipes reputation," she said, Ohh shit. "Tell me when you drink, and gamble do you do so with one of their girls on your leg?" She asked giving me a stern smile her eyes glaring a little giving me nowhere to hide from her at all, Well, I got caught out for lying to her once, and doing it again is likely not the best idea, and I mean… she's going to be my wife I should tell her the truth, even if she may not like the answer, "yes. at times, some of the girls do sit on my lap during a game. some of them get a little too flirty…and I indulge them occasionally…" she nodded returning her view to our walk for a while not saying anything, I regretted it honesty almost immediately. she seems to have been taken aback.

This is the first serious moment of awkward silence between us. I can't stand the silence. I want to talk to her, I want to make this right. So I decided to flip the question back on her, "What about you…are you ever flirty with other men?" "no I don't," she said with a dismissive tone immediately returning to the silence, "Never?" "no." She snapped, I nodded, doing my best not to be awkward… well, I royally cocked that up. So much for good gentlemen like first impression. After a while of walking, she finally spoke again, "The girls are to stop once we are married I'm sure you understand," she warned very seriously,

Of course, I didn't want to upset her, and after all, this is her first rule for me I didn't want to break it, and honestly… If I have her waiting for me to get home now sure I'd want to be seeing any girls down the cat and bagpipes anyway, not when I have a beautiful wife like her, "Yes. the girls will have to stop. I can assure you, I would never disrespect my wife in such a way." "if I find out they have continued I will terminate our union you understand that?" She threatened with a straight serious expression, she wasn't kidding this was her one rule she wanted the truth she wanted my loyalty and if I dared break it I would be in a living hell I'm sure she would ensure it, "yes…I understand…I give you my word…it's a deal breaker when we get married we'll both be faithful, we'll be monogamous…you have my word." "Good. And I trust as a doctor you are Ensuring me that you arrive as my husband… Healthy" she said momentarily glancing at my trousers,

Her gaze is hot and intense and it definitely makes me very anxious…but in a good way. I got that feeling again of being like a nervous teenager every moment just talking with her. And for a moment I had to put my hand in my pocket being very careful she didn't notice I had been… kinda getting hard looking at her, imagining her as my wife and all the things we would do together. "yes…well…er…yeah…very healthy. very healthy indeed." I gulped, "Good, my apologies. I merely ask as I know the cat and bagpipes girls have a… Reputation," "It's…quite alright. I assure you." I nodded, "While I occasionally indulge in a…less than appropriate behaviour…I am always very careful in such scenarios…" "good. At least one of us is experienced and… Knows what they're doing" she muttered almost inaudible, for a moment her words confused me and then it clicked, "You shall have to forgive my innocence in such departments literally." ohh… right she's a proper young lady, so she's never… Ohhh god, I need to stop thinking about that! Ummm, my innocent little firecracker wife.

"don't worry, my dear. I'll teach you as much as you need to know once we're married." I smirked giving her a playful wink, "Really?" she playfully smiled back squeezing my arm, "Don't worry, my dear. everything I know I will teach you. we'll be equals, and we'll be each other's teachers. I don't mind teaching you every last thing you need to know. it will be fun…" "I'm sure it will," she smirked before a look of sadness and concern washed over her face, "this is truly to happen we are to marry in just seven days" "yes, we are. the wedding is set. it's happening. are you worried?" "somewhat." "why are you upset?…is it the wedding itself that is bothering you? or is it the idea of marrying me?" I asked suddenly feeling slightly insecure, "uhh well, the entire concept honestly Doctor Dawkins. I have been putting off getting married for so long that my father literally arranged one for me. It is not you, I promise I just it's all rather overwhelming that this is a fact… Happening" "I understand. it's a bit overwhelming to think that you are suddenly going to be married. and to such a handsome fella like me, I'd imagine it would be even more overwhelming." I smiled with a playful little wink, hoping to lighten the mood. she smiled and briefly laughed, and I smiled widely she had such a cute little laugh, "I admit I find this whole situation rather…exciting," "Exciting?"

I smiled as I moved a little closer to speak more hushed to her and to take in her preticorn and lavender scent, "very exciting…I don't know about you…but I cannot remember the last time I've felt this way. I've never been this attracted to someone before…never. it feels like I'm seeing the world with brand-new eyes. every time I look in your direction all I see is how beautiful you are. I see nothing but a stunningly gorgeous woman…how can someone be so stunningly beautiful…it's just unbelievable…" "quite the man of complimentary words too I see" she teased, "only when it's warranted. and in your case, it's very warranted for you, I do not often praise a woman with my words but when I find them as charming and gorgeous as you, I simply can't help myself," I smiled, "I may just have a little crush on you, my dear." "a crush? We're engaged" she laughed, "oh my…my apologies. I forgot to update my terminology. yes, we're engaged. and I have a bit of an…engagment-crush. that's what I meant. you see? I'm just utterly enthralled with you…I'm absolutely captivated…all I can see right now is how beautiful you are. how can I not have something of a crush on you?" "That's very sweet doctor," she nodded, "Jack," I told her, "You're to be my wife in a week, you can just call me Jack," "Very well, Jack." She smiled, "Then Just Y/n, I insist." "Y/n, I am blessed to be allowed such a formality, my dear." I smiled kissing her hand,

[slitheringghost]

Voldemort Fic Recs, Part 3

Part 1 || Part 2

heavy is the head that wears the crown by @sk1fanfiction (2.4k, T)

Rec: One of my absolute favorite Tom character studies - the writing and characterization is phenomenal. The author perfectly captures Tom as childlike and frightened in heartbreaking ways while also capturing his amorality.

Tom could count the things he was afraid of on one hand. He was afraid of the black curtain fluttering next to the bed in the hospital ward he nearly died in (the Reaper, Tom knew it was him hiding in the fabric). Losing his 'freak' abilities. The cane in Mrs. Cole's office (but not that much). Not having enough to eat or a bed to sleep in. He folded his thumb into his fist and added Asylum to that list.

iron sharpens iron by @slashmarks (Voldemort & Ursa Black, Harry & Ron & Hermione & Ursa, Hermione/Ursa, 107k, T)

Rec: A fic centering around Voldemort’s daughter (who is Ursa instead of Delphi) ft. Voldemort sending his daughter a howler and a twist where instead of being killed in 1981 Voldemort loses his magic and has to live like a Muggle. Tom telling his daughter "the mark of strength in a person was not being bound by society's chains" made me tear up, because isn't that just Tom Riddle in a nutshell?

Basically, Ursa was the female equivalent to what Tom Riddle had imagined himself as a child: a girl from nowhere and no one, with no home and no rules and no culture. It had not made her free. Distracted by his research as he was, Tom had not actually failed to notice that Ursa could barely hold a conversation with a stranger. In a way he had been gratified, even relieved by his daughter's betrayal, because it was the first sign of serious independent action she had ever given. He had thought before then that he had probably ruined his daughter's life. - "You always told me," said Ursa, "That the mark of strength in a person was not being bound by society's chains, and strength was necessary not just to win power but to use it once you got it. What do you want? It's not to go around directing Death Eater meetings and reorganizing the Ministry. That was always Mother's passion. You were both exceedingly clear that you didn't care that much about the government. What do you actually want?"

Death (Eaters) in Paradise by @saintsenara (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 7.3k, M)

Rec: I loved the Bellatrix POV in this, and the Bellamort is so sweet and full of connection and understanding.

'You have no idea how lucky you are. You are an assassin, not a housewife.’ ‘A position I depend on your goodwill for,' she said, snapping the toothpick. 'Just like I depend on Roddy’s goodwill in society, and father’s goodwill before that. I want to be something for myself. I mean -’ She had spoken without thinking. She wondered if he would be angry. Instead, he was looking at her appraisingly. ‘Yes. I can appreciate that.' 'Oh.' 'The impulse to create one's own life is... admirable.’

Autogenesis by deslea (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 2.4k, E)

Rec: Fascinating exploration of Voldemort’s new body.

"Dignity is a great comfort after an ordeal such as Bella's," the Dark Lord agrees, looking pensively out the window. "I could have had Pettigrew summon you all at any time last year, could I not? But no man would sacrifice his dignity that way."

Feildelm's Apocrypha by deslea (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 4.5k, T)

Rec: Another favorite character study, beautifully written, with excellent Voldemort characterization.

He likes to walk among the dead. It was his favourite pastime as a child, walking in the little potter's field at the orphanage, walking among all the dead mothers (including his own). The dead mothers didn't call him strange or queer, didn't look on him with hate or fear. They lacked opinions of him, lacked interest in him, and that was a relief. Sometimes he thought that was what love was like, acceptance, passive embrace, sharing of space. If so, that was a thing he could respect, far more than the grandiose passions spoken of by the deluded, passions that were almost always a lie.

ever hear what I told you by @slashmarks (Druella & Andromeda, Druella & Bellatrix, background Bellatrix/Voldemort, 2.7k)

Rec: A wonderful version of Druella, and a hilarious argument between Voldemort and his unofficial mother-in-law. I requested this; you can request fics from slashmarks in return for pro-choice donations here.

Riddle stared at her in silence for several full beats. Druella had time to think, Lord God, this is it, my final mistake. And how stupid it was, after all of the scheming and the murders she'd committed and attempted and the murder attempts she'd survived, to die because she provoked Tom bloody Riddle over the wheat yield differential between muggle and magical Britain. But given what a mess she'd made of things lately, perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps if he murdered her point blank, Bella would leave him.

[hanta-seros-wifey]

lacrosse and cheer- hanta sero x f!reader

summary: in a quirkless AU, hanta sero and our dear reader find themselves in a fake relationship to ward off exes (toru hagakure & juzo honenuki). maybe they’ll fall in love?

authors note: okay this has been BREWING for the past couple of weeks and i’ve finalized the plot and everything. weekly updates, our lovely class 1A will be aged up to 3rd years, class 1B appreciation alright, reader is part of the dekusquad.

chapter 4: petty fights & confessions

OCTOBER

3 months have passed since you and hanta decided upon a secret fake relationship. it was ultimately killing the both of you. reciprocating real feelings for each other but the both of you dont do anything. you sat in class not listening to mr. yamada’s grammar lecture and honestly couldnt wait for lunch.

the bell chimed and you immediately pack up your stuff and head out of the classroom. you and hanta havent spoken in a few days and its because of you. he’s tried making an effort but you brush him off.

“hey y/n” you hear from behind you and turn around to see who it was. you look down and it was minoru. you roll your eyes and say a hi back beginning to walk off but he stops you. “you and hanta still a thing?” he asks creepily and you replied with a yes hoping he’ll leave you alone.

“a shame” he says and walks off. you spot itsuka, yosetsu, and tetsutetsu and immediately walk over to them. “hi” you say and they turn around to see you. “Y/N!” tetsutetsu yells out and pulls you into a bone crushing hug.

“hi tetsu” you giggle patting his arm gently signaling to him that you want to be put down. “right im sorry” he says putting you down. yosetsu pulls you into a hug and so does itsuka. “neito isnt around is he?” you ask cautiously still somewhat scared of neito. he’s always had it out for class a for some reason. “he went to go bother pony and sen” itsuka waves it off as she links her arm with yours and you start walking to the cafeteria together.

you grabbed lunch together and sat at a table. “so how are things with hanta sero” tetsutetsu says wiggling his eyebrows playfully. you smile and look down. “good” is all you answer. you all catch up on everything, laughing and goofing off. “hey guys” you hear a familiar voice say and you turn around to find juzo.

“hi juzo” you smile at him and he waves at you. “can i sit down?” he asks and the 4 of you agree and tell him to take a seat. he sat next to itsuka and you all get into a conversation once again. “someones glaring” yosetsu says and you look around the cafeteria.

your eyes meet hanta’s and he’s glaring at the table youre sitting at. he’s glaring at juzo honenuki. “well this was fun guys but i have to go” you mumble quietly getting up and picking up your tray. “i’ll see you guys around?” you say and they nodded their heads.

you quickly make your way over to hanta’s table and sit down next to him. “hi” you say and he’s still staring at juzo. you lightly slap his face to get his attention. “you jealous?” you ask playfully and he smirks shaking his head no.

“‘m not jealous” he says wrapping his arm around your waist. “stop staring then its creepy” you say pushing out your lip indicating you wanted a kiss. he gives you one and you smile at him. “wanna head to the library?” he asks you as he gets up to throw away both of your finished trays.

you nod and happily walk into step with him. you reached the library and he finds a nice quiet corner to sit and talk. “whats up with you the past couple of days?” he asks as you sit on the floor. you pick at your nails.

you honestly couldnt tell him you’ve fallen for him so hard. it wasnt apart of the agreement. you only shake your head. he sighs and only looks at you. “look” he starts and you look at him. “is all of this getting to you?” he asks softly and you shake your head no. “everything is fine hanta” you mutter out quietly and give him a small smile.

“no no everything is not fine y/n” he says trying to look into your eyes. “what did shoto do? or katsuki? or fuck tenya? i dont know who this mystery guy is for all i know it could be tetsutetsu what did the guy do? do i need to beat him-“ he starts rambling and you cut him off.

“shut up” you say and stare at him with tears in your eyes. “its none of them” you say wiping the already falling tears and get up. “maybe i dont know open your fucking eyes” you say harshly and grab your bag walking away and out of the library.

denki spots you and he immediately waves you down. “hey” he drags out smiling around you pulling you into a hug. he noticed that your eyes were filled with tears. hanta walks out of the library and denki catches on.

he puts his arm around you and gets you to walk with him. “im assuming it was hanta?” he asks and you nod. he gets the both of you as far as possible and he pulls away. “found out that piece of information” he says and you look up at him.

“well spit it out denks” you say rather harshly and wipe at your eyes. “katsuki does like you” he confirms and you groan. “so does shoto for some odd reason” you smack his arm and he lets out an ow.

“i didnt mean it that way i swear!” he exclaims and you only give him a look and start walking away. you spot juzo and immediately make your way over to him. “hi” you said making your presence known. he stops to turn and look at you.

“hi” he says slowing down so you can walk with him. “you okay?” he asks getting a better look at your face. you nod and wipe at the tears. “im okay” you mumbled and walked beside him. “slut” you hear and you turn to see who it came out from.

toru and tsuyu.

“you have a boyfriend and you hang out with your ex? slut behavior” toru laughed as tsuyu and mashirao stood with her laughing too. “its no wonder hanta was in my room last night. he couldn’t get enough of me even after being with you. are you not satisfying him?” toru went on and your face grew red.

hanta was in her room last night?

“hey cut it out” juzo pushed you behind him and toru only laughed at him. “aww protecting her?” she pouted and let out a giggle. as the intense conversation grew, students were expecting a fight to go down. a crowd had gathered as you hid behind juzo.

“listen here you slut” toru said as you looked up to make eye contact with her. “hanta told me he despises you” she seethes and steps closer. tsuyu moves closer to you tauntingly. “he hates the way you look at him” she said and you turned to look at her.

“okay guys cut the shit” juzo said covering you even more. “quit protecting her!” toru stomps and you move to leave not wanting to be apart of this. this was childish. fighting over a boy? you didnt notice it but tsuyu managed to creep up on you and jump you.

the commotion started as the crowd cheered on their favorites. denki was in the corner recording it as katsuki cheered you on. izuku, ochaco, and shoto stood and watched as they either screamed at you to get the both of them or for all of you to cut it out.

in a fit of rage you had managed to punch tsuyu in the face knocking her a couple of feet away from you. this wasnt her fight. it was yours and toru’s. a staff member hasnt been summoned yet but you knew there was little time before this was broken up.

mashirao and juzo were fighting as eijiro stood and recorded that fight. toru pushes you onto the floor and grabs your hair. you managed to grab her face and pinch it in your hold to get her off. she threw the first punch and her fist made contact with your cheekbone.

“you fucking bitch” she says as she lands another hit on you. “get the fuck away from hanta” when she says that you got the courage to push her off and get on top of her. you landed a punch on her face. right when you were going to land another one, you decided not to.

“the one who needs to back off is you” you breathe heavily as tears pricked your eyes. “stay the fuck away from him got it?” you ask her as you grab her haie forcing her to look at you. the crowd had gone silent as they watched. “whats going on here!” you heard mr. aizawa and you look behind you.

you saw coach toshinori and mr. yamada break off juzo and mashirao. you saw hanta was the one who went to go grab them. miss kayama and mr. aizawa separated the both of you. you looked at hanta and your grew red from anger.

“hanta, juzo, mashirao, toru, y/n, and tsuyu nezu’s office now!” mr. aizawa said sternly as he held onto toru’s arm holding her back. “the rest of you go back to the dorms now!” he yelled and started leading the way to principal nezu’s office.

you passed by hanta as mr. kan held onto him too. he looked at you with somber eyes. he looks down at the floor as the 7 of you were led away.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

principal nezu sighs as you all took a seat right in front of him. each of the staff members stood behind you. “anyone care to share?” nezu smiles at all of you. you sat in between juzo and hanta. you looked down at your lap and fiddled with your fingers.

“those are all nasty bruises starting to form on your faces” nezu said and only looked at you guys. “this has always been a nonviolent school” nezu started and you only listened. “i know some of you hold such impressive titles and scholarships you need for further education” he said and you felt insanely bad.

miss kayama stood behind you and she put her hands on your shoulders massaging them for you. she knew it wasnt your intention to fight. “i will have you know principal that y/n here is at fault for everything” toru said as she leaned forward in her seat.

“principal i was with her we were walking back to the dorms together she didnt start anything” juzo said as he backed you up and told nezu the truth. “you were with juzo?” hanta asked as he turned to look at you.

“oh we got much bigger things to talk about” you said to him and turned slightly away from him. “tsuyu jumped y/n first” juzo said and mashirao only groaned. “and then for some reason mashirao started fighting with me so i threw some punches here and there i wont lie” he said stating nothing but the truth.

“what started this all” mr. aizawa said sternly. he was mad at the fact that 6 of his students were facing harsh punishments. you looked at hanta. “toru called me a slut” you muttered out the room got quiet. no one said anything so you decided to continue.

“she called me that when she saw me with juzo. hanta is my boyfriend and i know juzo is my ex but i see him as nothing more than a friend. as i tried to get away tsuyu jumped me” you explained and hanta glared at toru.

“might i add that toru and hanta are exes too” you mumbled out and mr. yamada let out a whistle. “the cherry on top” mr. yamada said and mr. aizawa nudged him. “miss hagakure” nezu started and you all turned to look at her.

“here at UA we do not condone bullying and violence whatsoever. whatever hatred or disliking you have towards miss l/n here we ask that you have the option to switch with a student from class b if you wish that is and serve in school suspension or have you transfer to ketsubutsu. its your pick” principal nezu said and you all looked at each other.

she sat there with her eyes wide. “sir its not my fault” she started and miss kayama pulled her down to sit down in the chair. “if i can promise that it wont happen again can i stay in class a? i’ll serve in school suspension” toru said her voice wavering.

principal nezu sat thinking for a moment. “fine. the minute something starts up again it results in you transferring ms. hagakure” he says and toru leans back in seat. “as for the rest of you apart from hanta, you all have in school suspension” you all nodded your heads as you didnt mind leaving your dorm for 3 days.

“you are all dismissed” he waved you all off and you stood up. “figure out how to heal those wounds” mr. aizawa said and you all collectively agreed.

the walk back was silent. you walked next to juzo silently. no apologies were made as you all entered your proper dormitories. you bid juzo a farewell as you walked in. denki immediately comes to you with his phone in hand.

“you have to see this” he said jittering. you watched it and you couldnt help but laugh at it. “send it to me” you said before saying your goodbyes and going up to your dorm. you walked in and plopped on your bed.

you let out a sigh as you go to remove your school shirt. you pulled it off and threw it into the dirty hamper when your door opened and closed quietly. you turn around in shock and see hanta. you cover your covered breasts as they were sort of see through due to the choice of bra.

“what do you want hanta” you say angrily moving around your dorm room to change into comfortable clothes. “what the fuck were you doing with juzo?” he asks not moving from his spot. “walking thats all!” you exclaim throwing your hands in the air.

“this is all fucking fake why do you care so much?” you ask him and he doesnt answer. “my turn” you said and he looks at you. “what the fuck were you doing in toru’s room last night?” you say your voice wavering as tears threatened your eyes.

he opened his mouth but nothing came out. you stare at him waiting for him to answer. “i told her to stop messing with this” he mumbles quietly gesturing to the both of you. “fuck” he says voice shaky. you can tell he doesnt have the words to express how he is feeling right now.

you stare at the floor. you dont even care that youre only standing in your bra and skirt right now. hanta moves quickly and kisses you. he pulls away and stares at your face. you pull him down to kiss him and he immediately presses your lips together.

“wait” he pulls away and looks down at the floor. “what?” you ask smiling. he swiftly moves to lock the door and moves towards you. “fuck i’ve fallen for you so hard” he says as he presses his lips against yours. you kiss back eagerly as you felt a rush of emotions.

you were horny, happy, and felt ecstatic. hanta sero admitted it. he pulls away and looks down at you. “we should take this slow though” he says and you nodded. “youre absolutely right” you say and smile up at him.

“i’ll give you the proper girlfriend proposal” he smiles at you and you smile back. “this is still under “fake terms” until i ask you properly” he says and you nod. “goodnight y/n” he says leaning down to kiss your head. “goodnight hanta” you smile and before he leaves you say. “so the feeling is mutual i’ll fallen so hard for you too” he smirks at that and waves a small bye walking down the hall to his own dorm.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“he’s basically in love with me juzo” you giggle as you both walk to your respective sports practices. juzo nodded while slightly laughing due to your reaction. he thought it was cute. “gonna put those rubbers to use then? your mom was right” he smirks looking at you and you punch his arm.

“were taking it slow” you mumbled and he nods his head. “its the best approach yea” he agrees and you both reach the football field. “whats on the schedule for you guys?” he asks and you groan. “theyre gonna hate me” you wince and he looks down at you.

“laps around the track” you weakly smiled and he only laughed. “what we have our trainer here” you said and pointed to tenya. “goodluck with that” he says patting your shoulder and bidding you a goodbye. “so i hear were doing laps around the track” tenya says excitedly as you reached his side.

“yea i was thinking around 6? these girls need to build up their endurance” you said looking up at him. "very well then" he said walking over to your cheerleaders you trailing behind him. "aren't you like in trouble or something" a first year spoke up and you shrugged.

"not banned from my own practices" you smirk as you told them that you guys would be running today. the girls groaned and tenya could only smile at them. "6 laps around the track ladies try and keep up" he said as he set his watch up.

you all started running and your girls were desperately behind as you ochaco, and mina set a pace with tenya. by lap 4 you could hear the girls start to complain. "you need two more lets go" you yelled purposefully slowing down to encourge them to keep running. hanta walks into the track and leans against it watching you.

"ugh your little boyfriend is here" a second year complained as she kept running. you finished the rest of the laps and dismissed practice. "bye mina!" you said waving bye to her as her and eijiro met up. "hey" you said smirking up at hanta. he leans down to kiss you and you giggle into the kiss.

"lets get you back troublemaker" he jokes taking your hand and leading you to the dormitories. “shut up” you say giggling. you made it to your dorm and you threw your cheer bag on the floor.

you peeled off the fitted tank top you had on. you tossed it in the dirty hamper as you moved around your room. “whatcha staring at hanta?” you said not looking up from what you were doing. “you duh” he said and you smiled.

he walks up behind you and places his strong hands on your waist. he leans his head on your shoulder and looks down as you text your mom. he chuckles at the message you sent. “smile” you said lifting up your phone to snap a picture.

you didnt look at it before you hit send. you were in only a sports bra and hanta had taken off his shirt as well. your phone rings and its a facetime call with your mom.

you answer it confused. “ARE YOU USING THE RUBBERS?” was the first thing she said. “oh my gosh mom no it isnt what it looks like!” you exclaimed moving around your room as hanta laid on your bed. “well just be safe” she warns with a wink and you only laugh.

“well mom i have to go i have homework to do” you said tossing yourself next to hanta. “yea i know what type of homework” your mom mumbles and hanta chuckles at that. “bye honey i love you!” she says blowing a kiss into the camera.

“bye mom love you too” you said doing one back and she hangs up. hanta moves to hover over you immediately and you giggle. he leans down to kiss you and your hands immediately move to grip onto his biceps. he pulls away and smiles at you.

you stare at him as a wild thought pops up into your mind. “you wanna put a rubber to use?” you ask and you immediately go red. you cover your face with your hands. “forget i said that” you mumble and he laughs. he pulls your hands away from your face and smiles. his answer was one you werent expecting.

“yea lets put a rubber to use”

taglist:

@wheezdostuff @ita606

[showmey0urfangs]

Rating: M | Words: 2.0k | Chapters: 6/? | Pairing: Loustat | AO3 Summary: After the passing of his father, Louis has to find a way to support his family, while warding off his eager Mama's relentless matchmaking schemes. Excerpt:

The rest of the morning proved to be an exercise in endurance for Louis. He stayed by Grace’s side as much as he could, reading to her when she was awake, or simply sitting with her as she drifted in and out of a fitful, feverish sleep.

He did his best to avoid Mr. Lioncourt, though the man seemed to coincidently appear in every room Louis ventured into. Louis found him in the library when he went in search of a book to occupy himself. He encountered the man again in the drawing room when he came down to request a cup of tea for Grace. He happened upon Mr. Lioncourt again when he briefly wandered out onto the veranda for some fresh air.

It was as if the man was loitering in hallways and dark corners, waiting for any chance to engage Louis in trivial conversation or worse, simply to stare at him intently. Louis was sure some sort of game was at play, but he was not certain what Mr. Lioncourt’s end goal was other than to embarrass and ridicule him.

Read the rest of the fic AO3

[doodle-pops]

Modern AU: Brother's Best Friend

Headcanons: Maedhros, Celegorm, Fingon, Angrod, Egalmoth, Beleg

A/N: Back with my Modern AU headcanons, I decided to switch it up for a change today. They're quite long since I did both headcanons and fic for more content. Enjoy!!

Warnings: fembod, exhibitionism, cunnilingus (face sitting and from behind), vaginal penetration, fingering

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Maedhros

He’s always softer and protective around you and even scolds your brother for being too harsh. You can count on him to be at your beck and call whenever something is off, and you require assistance.

Quick to compliment your outfits and throw a secretive wink. His eyes are always on your figure whenever you're walking around the house. Your brother could be chatting his head off and his eyes are on you (he’s using his handsome looks to benefit him).

Wards off all suitors and would even threaten a few to ensure that no one else but him can have you. This means that whenever your brother is asleep in the next room at night, you can bet he’s already slithered into your room to have his filthy way with you.

He’s ruthless and a menace about it. Part of you would think that he doesn’t care whether your brother caught him or not, but it was just the thrill of having consecutive rendezvous.

The loud thuds of the bedhead knocking against the wall alerted you of the volume and aggression he was pounding into you, though, it appeared that Maedhros had no care in the world. He was lost in your heat and all that mattered was you cumming around his cock and him filling you up.

Sweaty skin rubbed against one another, and your hands were fighting to catch a firm grip on his arms while his hips expertly twisted and angled themselves to aim for that one spot right off the bat. While his mouth had covered yours to swallow your moans, he was still sinfully wicked to force them out.  “M-Mae…please…ngghh—”

The wicked gleam in his eyes as he broke the kiss and pulled away to lift your right leg and hook it over his shoulder urged a squeak to follow. He was relentless as his hips continuously worked their way against yours. Every touch had your body on fire. “You don’t sound like you want me to stop princess? Do you hear that? Listen…”

Forcing yourself to listen to want he wanted you to hear, you gasp at the lewd sounds of your cunt squelching as his cock drove deeper and deeper. You wanted to look down to where you were both connected, but the harsh thrust he sent your way made you bury your face into the pillow. Your brother had to be drunk or sick to not hear a single sound emitting from your room, even the knocking of the bedhead.

“Fuck Mae! I’m s-so close—”

Leaning into your neck to kiss your pulse, he gave a little nibble before steadying his hips once he felt the tightness around him increasing. “Go ahead princess, cum all over my cock. Show me just how filthy my friend’s little sister is…”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Celegorm

He looks like a fuckboy and acts like he’s the biggest and best out of them all, but it’s all a façade. Deep down, he simply tags along with the latest gossip about him so long as it isn’t ruining the reputation of Mr Popular.

As your brother’s bestie, he’s always over and doesn’t know how to be subtle about anything he says or does. If you’re wearing something revealing, he’s biting his lip or raking his eyes from head to toe, and in return, he’ll walk around shirtless to capture your attention.

Compliments roll off his tongue and nicknames are attached to them. Whether it be ‘princess’, ‘dollface’, ‘babygirl’, kitten’, or ‘vixen’, those are his names for you alone. No one had the privilege to use them; only he can shamelessly flirt with you.

Loves to act like the big bad wolf or fake boyfriend so you can come running to him, proving to your brother that he can trust and protect you. He really does that to corrupt you to end up as his plaything until you submit.

“What’s the matter kitten, cat got your tongue? What happened to all that noise you were making earlier?” His sickeningly patronising grin was hidden from your line of sight as he pressed you against the wall in the corridor of your house and buried his face between your legs.

Taking his large hands, he parted your thighs and spread your ass apart so his tongue could reach your puss better and have a taste. The vicious swirls of his tongue against your clit once his tongue came in contact with your sensitive bud forced a squeak from your lips. Not once did Celegorm cease his actions despite your brother and the rest of his friends lounging downstairs. If they heard, then so be it. Right now, he was having dessert.

Nipping and circling your clit with his teeth and tongue, he enjoyed the squeaks and squelches emanating from you with each ministration. Wanting to dive deeper, he pressed you into the wall and arched your back so your ass would meet his face and his tongue would slip into your slit. The sound of slick being slurped by him shamelessly ricocheted throughout the upper floor and prompted you to push against and away from him. “Relax dollface, no one is going to interrupt us,” his voice muffled by your pussy as a slap came down on your ass to silence your whines. “Enjoy what I’m giving you.”

Panting like you were in labour, your nails scraped the paint off the wall from the palpability of his actions. He was relentless and showed no signs of stopping until you came upon his face, even if it was in the open corridor. Feeling the languid rolls and thrusts of his tongue, your eyes rolled back, and your body began convulsing.

“That’s it princess, cum all over my face. Show me just how sweet your pussy is.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Fingon

Your brother trusts him so much that not even for a second he would suspect that his best friend had already locked his eyes on his little sister. All the sweet interactions between you and Fingon before your brother’s eyes were all a candy show.

In secrecy and right before his eyes, Fingon was staking his claim on you from the simple gestures of brushing your hair out the way, complementing your outfit or racking his eyes up and down your figure when you wear a little too-revealing dress.

For your brother’s sake of fearing when other people approach you, Fingon would pretend to be your boyfriend and when your brother’s back was turned, he’d have you all to himself.

It’s all a part of fulfilling his role and duty as your boyfriend. Smug, seductive and highly secretive, it’s more your brother being blind to the obvious actions of his best friend fucking you right in the kitchen while he’s playing games.

“Shush, princess. Not so loud now. You don’t want your dear old brother to catch us? What would he say about you getting fucked by his best friend?” his voice was beyond stable for someone drilling into you rapidly. Even the stable mocking tone he displayed made your walls clenched around his cock causing him to hiss.

The faint sound of skin slapping against each other echoed in the kitchen and faintly in the living room while it reverberated loudly in the pantry you were cooped up in. The straps of your top were rolled down your shoulder, shorts off and panties pushed to the side with one leg hooked on his hip. Your fingers were fighting to catch a good grip with the way his hips were battering against yours. “F-Finno…slowly down…too much, ngghh—” Your words were cut off by a squeak when he pinched your clit.

“Too much? Oh no princess, this is more than enough. It’s what you wanted, craved—walking around in those shorts and expecting that I wouldn’t scold you…” His voice trailed off when he decided to look down and notice you creaming all over him. “So fucking innocent aren’t you? Look at the mess you made sweetheart…all for me,” he cooed in your ear before giving it a nibble and dropping to your neck.

Digging your nails into his shirt and tugging him closer as the heat and pressure grew, your body began trembling from the high levels of sensation and thrill of being caught. Any moment now, your brother would come looking for you and Fingon. “Fin-…Finno, close, close…please…”

“Go ahead princess, give it all to me.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Angrod

With his stern and stoic appearance, you were afraid to approach him at first since he barely spoke to you at all, but you were wrong. The way he looked at you whenever you entered the room told a different story.

He came off as a tsundere at first, always grumbling and keeping his distance, but that was just a façade to show your brother that he was serious about the bro code—not that he cared about it at all.

Any chance he had with you alone, he would strike to corner you against some surface and lock lips or run his hands up and down your body, marvelling at your figure. Whispering about how he wants you terribly and what he’ll do to you.

Your brother trusts him so much with your safety that he doesn’t realise that he’s giving Angrod exactly the time he wants to have you all to himself, and he must thank your brother for that.

Windows foggy despite the tinted glass, bare legs wrapped around an aggressive waistline and hands struggling to grip some surface, you and Angrod were trapped in the backseat of his car. His lips were attached to yours, sucking the life out of you while his hips pumped vigorously into yours. No matter how much you attempted to catch your breath, he knocked it out of your chest.

“An-…Angrod…fuck! Oh my god!” you whined against his lips as he broke the kiss to stare into the darkness between you both at his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. The lewd sounds of sweaty skins slapping against each other and the slickness of his cock pumping into your cunt traversed the car.

“I seriously…ngghh, need to thank your brother for this…opportunity. Couldn’t have done it without him,” he groaned and breathed against your neck when your walls clamped down on him. The feel of your gummy walls around his cock was divine after all those months of waiting. “I’ll have to send him a gift; his little sister is not so innocent anymore…huh?”

Widening your eyes at the suggestion, your legs naturally tightened around his waist for him to finish inside you and return to your brother. The thrill of being claimed by his best friend was exhilarating, and you didn’t want for this to be the only occurrence. Nodding your head with glossy eyes, you whined and begged him, “P-Please, Angrod…fill me up, ruin me! P-…Please!”

Loving the teary look in your eyes, he couldn’t be more pleased to comply with his princess's wishes. “Anything you ask for princess.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Egalmoth

He will outrightly flirt with you before your brother’s eyes but in a more subtle manner to not make things awkward or to break the bro code. In private when your brother isn’t there, he’ll lay all the sexual innuendos while cornering you.

His eyes are always dark and glossy whenever he’s staring at you and if anyone ever noticed him, they would understand the meaning of his gaze. Egalmoth has no shame in eye-fucking you as you stand before him and ask if he likes your outfit.

Always biting or licking his lips whenever he’s speaking with you (that is when no one’s around) or making some serious sexual eye contact. You could feel his desire to fuck you every time he’s around you.

It’s awfully easy for Egalmoth to have his way with you, even when your brother is around because he’s just smooth and naturally mysterious with his actions. The both of you could be sitting beside each other and your brother wouldn’t have a clue.

The images on the screen were bright but blurred with the vigorous motion of two fingers pumping in and out of your cunt at a steady pace. Given the dark settings of the room and the blanket that covered both you and Egalmoth—since the cold air conditioner was the excuse—your bother was oblivious to Egalmoth fucking you under the covering. All your attempts at stifling your moans were vanishing the faster his fingers worked.

“Eg-…Egalmoth…ughh…” you moaned into his neck while his lips were by your ear whispering intense levels of filth.

“Are you cum all over my fingers pretty girl, huh? Right in front of your brother? I thought you were innocent babygirl?” he taunted while nibbling on your earlobe. His fingers in accordance dug deeper and curled against your soft spot, earning him a sharp pain to his biceps. Your nails were clawing into his bare arm and leaving moon crescents. “You look so pretty when you when you cry like that.”

Breathlessly wheezing, you pushed your face into his neck deeper and clung to him while cutting your clueless brother a look from the corner of your eye. His eyes were still glued to the show which meant that Egalmoth wasn’t letting up. “He’ll catch us…hurry up…ngghh.”

Pulling his fingers out and laughing at your whines, he pushed three in this time and immediately went after your soft spot. Curling and pressing against your gummy walls and relishing in its softness, he groaned into your ear, “After you’ve cum all over my fingers princess, you’re cum on my cock later, hmm? But you gotta cum for me first baby…”

Thrusting your hips upwards as he rocked his fingers, the coil and pressure grew instantaneously, and came all over his fingers. A loud squelch echoed when he withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips to have a taste. Maintaining eye contact as he did so when he was finished, he leaned over to land a chaste kiss on your lips and whispered, “You taste good, but I want more.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Beleg

No one would ever suspect he was already fucking you behind your brother’s back. Not the sweet, friendly and charming boy who was friends with everyone and all the animals loved. Not the sweet boy would do voluntary work at the community centre.

Beleg was the last person anyone would assume to be visiting you, when he was away at college behind your brother’s back, to spend some quality time with his princess. He would make the extra effort to make the trip to spend a few hours and then vanish.

Always complimenting, in private, how beautiful you looked in your outfit and getting filthier with he was fucking you. Making sure that you understood just how much he wanted to let everyone know you were a spectacle in your outfit.

He uses friendly flirtations to get away with having your all to himself when your brother wasn’t looking. Whether it be in your house or away at college, Beleg was making it his business to see his favourite babygirl.

“You know, you can make all the nose you want, right princess? Your brother’s fast asleep, he can’t hear us.” His puppy eyes flashed up at you while you sat without your underwear, on his chest. He was attempting to have you sit on his face since it was the first time in months he was seeing you, and you were fucking without your brother hovering (though he was sleeping next door). “Come have a seat love, I missed you.”

From rubbing your thighs with his thumbs, his hands gripped them with eagerness and dragged you forward to drop into his mouth. The minute you sat on his face; you squealed once his tongue wasted no time to reach out a lick a bold stripe. Twisting and flicking your clit, his lips formed a suction to suckle your clit while his fingers dug into your flesh and left prints.

Beleg was lost in paradise between your legs without a care in the world knowing that your brother was miles away and he had you all to himself. Every cry and moan you made, he devoured and dipped his tongue to push it past your folds. Hardening his tongue and thrusting it enthusiastically in and out, he groaned as your fingers entangled in his silvery strands and tugged. “Hmm, you’re so damn perfect every time I have you, but today…you’re even better…come on princess, be louder. Cum all over my face!”

“B-…Beleg, fuck! You feel so good!” you cried out as his hands urged your hips to rock against his mouth. You could see the gloss smeared on his nose and cheeks from the light, but Beleg didn’t seem to care. He was pleased to be between your legs and basking in paradise as he longed for. It irritated him that your brother was home, and he couldn’t behave as freely as desired, but he’ll make the moment worth it. Being away at college and not having you around was hellish.

“That's it, princess, just like that, you’re so close. You taste so good on my tongue,” he groaned before pressing his tongue against your clit for a languid flick.

Choking on a muffled sob, you had forgotten about keeping tabs on the door to ensure it wasn’t opened and tossed your head backwards. Your body was easily consumed in convulsed once the coil had snapped and released at the built-up pressure and frustration of missing Beleg. On his end, he had refused to let you escape his grip, pushing you into overstimulation all to have a taste.

“Let’s see if you can be a little louder, hmm? Round two.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @batsyforyou

[artstar1997]

The main characters of my fairy AU, which is the adaptation of the Hidden AU and its collaboration story, Journey to Harmony are made by me and @georgi-girl. Each of the seven fairy tribes and subtribes has wings and antennae based on different insects or the wings are based on their elements (the country tribe as earth fairies have leaf or flower petal or fruit slice-shaped wings, the techno tribe as water fairies have fin-like wings, etc.) and the pop trolls as fairies are more of butterfly fairies while Cooper is a moth fairy, just like his parents and his tribe and Queen Rose and her tribe, the platinum trolls are dragonfly fairies. Their outfits are based on the fashion from the Middle Ages, though the fairies' clothes are made out of natural materials, such as leaves and flower petals.

The new Platinum leader and the fairy queen of the fairy kingdom, Queen Rosetta a.k.a Rose has dragonfly wings and antennae just like the members of her court, which is known for the use of light magic. She wears roses and rose petals in her outfits because the flowers match her personality and the rose symbolizes royalty, romance, love, beauty, and courage.

Queen Poppy, the older twin of King Peppy's twin daughters and one of Queen Celestia's wards has the antennae that she, Queen Celestia, and the members of the Snack Pack share because they came from the same court. During the group's search for the Pop court, Poppy acts as a trusted best friend for Queen Rose to rely on in lending a helping hand or wing because they have been inseparable at most times, especially during lessons. She shares with her boyfriend, Branch. Her wings are based on the king swallowtail and her outfits have camellias and their petals as skirts because the flower symbolizes beauty, grace, elegance, love, longevity, happiness, and good fortune,

Branch, on the other hand, is still the cautious and protective but talented butterfly. His skills in survival and protectiveness towards his friends allowed him to join the knights and earn his title as a sir. He and his brothers have the same monarch butterfly wings and his outfits were made of Mexican sage petals and leaves. The sage plant symbolizes bravery, esteem, domestic virtue, longevity, thoughtfulness, good health, and wisdom.

DJ Suki is a music-savvy fairy herself since fairies are known to be musically inclined and she was trained to be a troubadour ever since Queen Celestia took in the Snack Pack after they were separated from the pop fairies during their escape from the giants (the bergens). Sporting red lacewing butterfly wings and wearing clothes with lotus petals, I kinda match her with lotus flowers because they symbolize transcendence, purity, rebirth, and strength.

Cooper is the only moth fairy in the group and is known to work in the castle bakery with Legsly. He was aware that he had a different antennae shape and that his wings were based on a rosy maple moth but what he didn't know was that he was born a fairy prince. His outfits are made of morning glories, which match him perfectly because the flowers symbolize eternal love, rebirth, resilience, life, and unyielding love.

Smidge is a skilled flyer and fighter in her group and she is one of the transgender members. She is the strongest because she trained with the knights alongside Branch but, she tends to be more of a berserker. Her wings are based on an orange sulphur butterfly and her outfits are made out of red dahlias, which symbolize strength, power, perseverance, and prosperity.

Biggie is a big butterfly with a heart of gold. As an animal tamer and the caretaker of the Snack Pack, he takes care of them and keeps them safe with his bow and arrows but he owns a pet fox, whom he names Mr. Dinkles. He has blue morpho butterfly wings and his outfit is made out of pansy flower petals and leaves because it matches his gentle personality and the pansy symbolizes love, loyalty, honesty, devotion, sympathy, and care.

Guy Diamond is a transgender male but he is considered the most beautiful fairy. Sporting glitter on his pink-tipped satyr butterfly wings, he can emit fairy dust from his wake when flying. Queen Rose uses it for potions while Fuzzbert uses the dust for healing. As a new dad to the newborn baby Tiny Diamond, he tries his best to be a good example to his son. His outfits are made out of amaryllis lily petals, which match him because the flower symbolizes pride, strength, determination, beauty, and love.

Satin and Chenille, the fashion twins still love fashion designing and making clothes but their outfits are known among the younger generation of the nobility, the elite, and the wealthy class. They have matching purple emperor wings, cherry blossom outfits, and ponytails that face each other like a mirror, but the sleeves, personalities, and colors set them apart. Cherry blossoms match them because of their traits and the flower symbolizes beauty, passion, love, courage, rebirth, renewal, new beginnings, and the start of spring.

Fuzzbert, though mute, is a skilled healer among his teammates, which comes in handy because of the difficulty of their quest. Using his knowledge of potions and spells to cure his fellow fairies and help anyone in need. His wings are based on a species of a swallowtail butterfly and his outfits are made of sweet pea leaves, which symbolize blissful pleasure, good wishes, kindness, gratitude, and friendship.

Legsly works at the castle bakery with Cooper but she is mainly the most outgoing among the teammates. As a baker, she has a "happy-go-lucky" attitude with a liking for any "good things" and her cooking talent impresses both her friends and guests alike. Her dress is made out of the leaves and the flower of the daffodil, which symbolizes rebirth, new beginnings, hope, joy, and good luck.

[weirdraccoon]

First of all, I wanted to wish you a belated birthday greeting and tell you that I found the drawing in the last post cute. ☺️🩷

(Lol sorry if I'm bombarding you with requests and just because I have a lot of ideas in my head that I've had for a while but I was shy about asking on Tumblr)

angst/comfort.

Again based on my MC's lore, basically when she receives the Hogwarts letter from Fig she doesn't seem openly convinced that she wants to be part of the magical world but in the end she is convinced.Some time later (again set before the Hogwarts events and when he was with Eleazar) MC opens up about the reasons why he was hostile to "re-entering" the magical world.MC was born into a pureblood family living a relatively normal life until her parents realized she would apparently never have magic and not wanting to tarnish their image with a non-magical daughter they disowned her and abandoned her somewhere in the muggle world with only herself.(This is why she is afraid of being part of the same world that she expelled there)

first of all: Thank you!! <3

and now, I'll add more to it and say Fig takes her to receive her Order of Merlin (cause of course, the Ministry has to acknowledge what she did after all of Hogwarts speaks of it) AND she comes face to face with no others than the people who disowned her in the first place.

ft Protective Fig and vengeful Ominis

MC pulled on her sleeves. She reached to pull on her corset but a hand stopped her. She huffed.

"Relax," Ominis soothed. "It'll be over before you realize it."

"I want it to be over now," MC grumbled, pulling on her sleeves. "This is suffocating."

"Well, I can't say for sure but I bet you look gorgeous," Ominis shrugged.

"That doesn't help," MC pouted. "I always look gorgeous," she added under her breath.

"Yes, you must do," Ominis snorted. "Now let's go. I'm sure Fig will help keep the attention off you, and I'll be right next to you. If Father taught me something useful is how to manage these people."

MC took a deep breath and nodded. Taking Ominis' hand in hers, she crossed the wards. The Minister was using some rich family's grounds to host her Order of Merlin award. She would pity those poor idiots if they weren't richer than dirt. They probably had an army of house-elves to do their cleaning, maybe even a human maid or two for appearance's sake.

However, she froze as soon as she saw the manor.

There was something familiar about it.

And now that she was paying attention, there was something familiar about the magic of the place. The wards.

"I can't be here," she panicked. "Ominis-

"It's ok," Ominis frowned, concerned. "We'll leave as soon as we can. But you have to receive the award. Hero or not, you can't dismiss these traditions."

"But Ominis this is-

"Mr. Gaunt, such a pleasure," a woman's velvety voice called. "Please do come in. It's warmer inside and even if our fairies are friendly I wouldn't stay out too long."

"Lady Crawford," Ominis greeted. "This is M-"

"You!" Lady Crawford's eyes turned icy and her glare stabbed MC's defeated gaze. Lady Crawford lowered her voice to a hiss, not unlike Ominis' parseltongue but ten times more poisonous and rude. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here, you filth? I thought we were clear you wouldn't put a foot back in after you turned out to be a squib!"

"Believe me," MC gritted out. "I want to be here less than you want me here. So, let's get this over with, Mother, I promise to be out of your hair once the Minister takes some pictures."

"The Minister," Lady Crawford scoffed. "Why would he want pictures with you?" She eyed Ominis' frowning face with a wicked glee. "Oh, did you drug this poor heir? I wondered why the Gaunts were so evasive about their youngest."

"Didn't you say I'm a squib?" MC growled. "How would I drug him? Amortentia needs magic to work!"

"I don't know, filth, maybe those muggles we left you with taught you something," Lady Crawford shrugged unapologetically. "They did promise us to put those... traits of yours to good use. Said you'd pay for your place yourself so we didn't have to worry about anything."

Ominis' magic flared, causing both witches to look at him. His face was as impassive as always, and only MC felt how tight his grip on her hand had turned.

"As lovely as this reunion is," he drawled. "I'm afraid MC here has to speak to the Minister now. She has an award to receive, after all, what with all that saving Hogwarts from a goblin rebellion. It was good to see you before your fall Lady Crawford. It's always nice to know how high you feel you are before I make you fall."

Ominis didn't give her an opportunity to answer, he pulled MC to the Hall and maneuvered her to the farthest corner from the entrance, where the lady of the manor was still welcoming guests.

"What was that?" he asked lowly. "Mother? You're a Crawford?"

"What do you think the 'C' stands for?" MC rolled her eyes, still feeling vexed after seeing the woman who abandoned her when she was a child. "Fig helped me and gave me the 'Carrow' cover, but that's not my real name. I don't have one, really, disowned as I am."

Ominis pursed his lips.

"Disowned or not that's your family name," he said. "I would know."

"Your parents still acknowledge you as a Gaunt," MC shook her head. "My parents pretend I never existed. Sold me to the first cathouse they found. I'm not a Crawford."

Ominis was quiet for a moment, head tilted to one side, brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Well, no matter," he sighed, clearing his expression to one of polite cordiality. "The Crawfords will be no longer important in the Wizarding World by the end of the year."

MC shuddered. She knew Ominis could be fierce when he wanted to be. She felt touched, too, that he would use his contacts to punish the people who wronged her. Ominis wasn't one to pull strings often, but when he did, it was serious.

At least Sebastian wasn't anywhere near. He'd probably plan their demise along with their fall from grace.

"Oh, there you are!" Fig grinned, walking towards them with two other men behind him. "MC, this is Lord Crawford and Minister Spavin."

Unlike his wife, Lord Crawford hid his surprise well, only frowning in contempt when he recognized the girl before him. The Minister, however, was most excited to shake her hand and ask about her life and the goblins.

"Well, it wasn't only goblins, minister," MC said. "There was a group of dark wizards as well, working with Ranrok."

"Ha, wizards working with goblins?" Pavin waved it off while Lord Crawford snorted. "Unbelievable. But tell me how did you manage to defeat Ranrok? Fig here says your magic is extraordinary but he won't go into details and I'm sure the Prophet and all its readers would like to know."

He would like to know.

"Don't worry, Minister," MC smiled sweetly. "I don't plan on taking over, I just want to finish my studies and maybe work as a researcher and professor."

"That's for the best I think," Lord Crawford drawled. "Researching is not too difficult, even a squib would be able to do it, leaving the experimentation to those who actually have magic."

"I do have magic, Lord Crawford," MC glared. "Or I wouldn't be attending Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts is not what it used to be," Lord Crawford shrugged. "Minister? Are you sure this girl is the one who stopped the goblin rebellion? I know she didn't show any signs of magic when she was younger, and I heard she only got to Hogwarts at fifteen. Maybe Professor Fig is not telling us something? Say, Fig, wasn't it you who defeated the goblin leader? It won't change your standing if that's why you're lying."

Fig frowned.

"I'm not lying," he said slowly. "MC saved my life, Hogwarts, and she was the one who faced Ranrok by herself."

"Hm. It just seems unlikely."

"Why do you say she's a squib?" Ominis demanded, standing close to the Minister to stop him from leaving. "Most purebloods nowadays show signs of magic much later, when they're older, especially when the family doesn't have any particular magic such as parseltongue or metamorphosis. While it is uncommon not to have accidental magic or for the magic to unlock after fifteen, it is not unheard of."

"He got you there, pal," Pavin snickered. "The Unspeakables are actually investigating such things. Mr. Gaunt, I didn't know you were interested in that."

"I'm not," Ominis shrugged. "My best friend is, though. He stumbled into that research while looking into curse-breaking, and I admit it's very interesting but I prefer to study charms."

MC shifted her feet. Fig was eyeing her with concern, glancing between her and her father. She wondered what he'd do if he knew.

She didn't have to wait long. Like a candle, Fig's eyes lighted up and he glanced between father and daughter one last time, as if making sure he wasn't imagining things. Then his expression turned murderous and even Minister Pavin took a cautious step back.

"You thought your daughter was a squib!"

Lord Crawford blinked taking a step back from the angry wizard.

"She was," he said.

"And what did you do!" Fig continued, ignoring the Minister's attempts to calm him down and MC's trembling figure behind Ominis' own angry form. "Sold her to the muggles! Left her to her doom with those animals!"

"What," the Minister asked, looking at Lord Crawford with disgust. "You sent her to the muggles?"

"He sold her to the muggles," Ominis spat. "The worst kind. She was just a child!"

"Now, now," Lord Crawford tried to calm them down. "She wouldn't have been happy with us. A squib surrounded by magic? No, so we sent her somewhere she would feel like she belonged."

"They used me," MC said, stepping around Ominis to glare at her father. Her voice was low and dangerous but mindful of the other people around. She knew some people were listening, but she rather avoid a bigger scene. "They used me and sold me and locked me up when no one picked me for the night!"

The Minister and some eavesdroppers gasped.

"You are not welcome here," Lord Crawford said, much like his wife before. "Magic or not."

"Good for me," MC hissed. "I'm not a Crawford. I wouldn't want to be one."

"I wouldn't want to be one either," Ominis added, smirking. "And even though we're all used to calling her 'MC', I have to say 'MG' has a nice tone as well."

"We're leaving," Fig said, "Minister, we'll reschedule this whole affair. Maybe a smaller ceremony at the Ministry. It's, after all, only a sixteen-year-old squib getting an award. We don't need all this extravagance."

MC sighed, grateful, and followed Ominis when he pulled her to the exit.

"Those- people," Fig was growling. "If the Minister wasn't there I would've cursed them."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Professor," Ominis grinned. "I did it. And I'll make sure their name is forgotten before they know it."

MC squeezed his hand. She sent Fig a grateful smile.

Maybe she didn't have parents, but she couldn't have asked for a better family.

[esther-dot]

I feel like I'm going crazy with the Jon question. He's a Byronic hero, of course he's slightly unconventionally handsome but only once you notice him glowering, and maybe conventional only in a literary/classical sense. The reason Timothee Chalamet tends to be facecast as him (other than period-appropriate films) is because other than Adam Driver, he's one of the few tangentially-looking Byronic heroes around (especially as Paul Atreides). Adam Driver is too old for a Jon though it's a relevant comparison because people either think he's very handsome or very ugly. Jon's a bastard, but he's spiritually formidable, meaning he's got to have that visual duality.

Plus it's totally a Beauty and the Beast thing. Come onnnn. He's probably very beautiful to Sansa, but only once she looks closer, which is basically the whole theme of Jonsa, right? It's that lack of closeness and Jon as a functional ward which makes it possible.

The hypocrisy about Jon's looks is absolutely astounding to me. Like, I think they project their anxieties onto Sansa. Jon can be horse-faced and homely and loved for it.

“Jon's a bastard, but he's spiritually formidable, meaning he's got to have that visual duality.”

I love that description, anon! That’s kinda what I was trying to talk about here with the Byronic Hero quotes, there’s an appeal there, although it isn’t necessarily a universally recognized one. Reading your ask reminded me that if you aren't familiar with the Byronic hero idea, the insistence that Jon isn't traditionally attractive might seem random rather than a reflection of the literary context Martin created him in. Mr Rochester is a Byronic hero who (I think?) exists in the popular consciousness due to relatively recent adaptions, and here is how he is described:

Mr. Rochester, as he sat in his damask-covered chair, looked different to what I had seen him look before; not quite so stern—much less gloomy. There was a smile on his lips, and his eyes sparkled, whether with wine or not, I am not sure; but I think it very probable. He was, in short, in his after-dinner mood; more expanded and genial, and also more self-indulgent than the frigid and rigid temper of the morning; still he looked preciously grim, cushioning his massive head against the swelling back of his chair, and receiving the light of the fire on his granite-hewn features, and in his great, dark eyes; for he had great, dark eyes, and very fine eyes, too—not without a certain change in their depths sometimes, which, if it was not softness, reminded you, at least, of that feeling.

He had been looking two minutes at the fire, and I had been looking the same length of time at him, when, turning suddenly, he caught my gaze fastened on his physiognomy.

“You examine me, Miss Eyre,” said he: “do you think me handsome?”

I should, if I had deliberated, have replied to this question by something conventionally vague and polite; but the answer somehow slipped from my tongue before I was aware—“No, sir.”

“Ah! By my word! there is something singular about you,” said he: “you have the air of a little nonnette; quaint, quiet, grave, and simple, as you sit with your hands before you, and your eyes generally bent on the carpet (except, by-the-bye, when they are directed piercingly to my face; as just now, for instance); and when one asks you a question, or makes a remark to which you are obliged to reply, you rap out a round rejoinder, which, if not blunt, is at least brusque. What do you mean by it?”

“Sir, I was too plain; I beg your pardon. I ought to have replied that it was not easy to give an impromptu answer to a question about appearances; that tastes mostly differ; and that beauty is of little consequence, or something of that sort.”

“You ought to have replied no such thing. Beauty of little consequence, indeed! And so, under pretence of softening the previous outrage, of stroking and soothing me into placidity, you stick a sly penknife under my ear! Go on: what fault do you find with me, pray? I suppose I have all my limbs and all my features like any other man?”

“Mr. Rochester, allow me to disown my first answer: I intended no pointed repartee: it was only a blunder.”

“Just so: I think so: and you shall be answerable for it. Criticise me: does my forehead not please you?”

He lifted up the sable waves of hair which lay horizontally over his brow, and showed a solid enough mass of intellectual organs, but an abrupt deficiency where the suave sign of benevolence should have risen.

“Now, ma’am, am I a fool?”

“Far from it, sir. You would, perhaps, think me rude if I inquired in return whether you are a philanthropist?”

“There again! Another stick of the penknife, when she pretended to pat my head: and that is because I said I did not like the society of children and old women (low be it spoken!). No, young lady, I am not a general philanthropist; but I bear a conscience;” and he pointed to the prominences which are said to indicate that faculty, and which, fortunately for him, were sufficiently conspicuous; giving, indeed, a marked breadth to the upper part of his head: “and, besides, I once had a kind of rude tenderness of heart. When I was as old as you, I was a feeling fellow enough; partial to the unfledged, unfostered, and unlucky; but Fortune has knocked me about since: she has even kneaded me with her knuckles, and now I flatter myself I am hard and tough as an India-rubber ball; pervious, though, through a chink or two still, and with one sentient point in the middle of the lump. Yes: does that leave hope for me?”

“Hope of what, sir?”

“Of my final re-transformation from India-rubber back to flesh?”

“Decidedly he has had too much wine,” I thought; and I did not know what answer to make to his queer question: how could I tell whether he was capable of being re-transformed?

“You looked very much puzzled, Miss Eyre; and though you are not pretty any more than I am handsome, yet a puzzled air becomes you; besides, it is convenient, for it keeps those searching eyes of yours away from my physiognomy, and busies them with the worsted flowers of the rug; so puzzle on. Young lady, I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative to-night.”

With this announcement he rose from his chair, and stood, leaning his arm on the marble mantelpiece: in that attitude his shape was seen plainly as well as his face; his unusual breadth of chest, disproportionate almost to his length of limb. I am sure most people would have thought him an ugly man; yet there was so much unconscious pride in his port; so much ease in his demeanour; such a look of complete indifference to his own external appearance; so haughty a reliance on the power of other qualities, intrinsic or adventitious, to atone for the lack of mere personal attractiveness, that, in looking at him, one inevitably shared the indifference, and, even in a blind, imperfect sense, put faith in the confidence.

Jon is a much better man than Mr Rochester, but you can see some pertinent ideas here. I'll link @cappymightwrite's Byronic Hero metas (1, 2, 3) if anyone is interested in further reading on the topic.

Regardless of where you fall on the question, Jon and Sansa's looks are plot relevant (mentioned it a little here ). Sansa’s Tully looks are obviously very important because looking like Cat has made LF fixate on her, so these aren’t incidental details, they’re very clear, deliberate descriptions by the author and matter to the story now and in the future. Obviously there’s truth to the expression “beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” and everyone can go where they want with this but considering how plot relevant their designated look is, it’s pretty clear the author purposefully chose it.

The Jonsa aspect is interesting because we’ve all scratched our heads at the Freudian implication (and then Kit mentioned Freud which shocked amused confused us!) and I’ve seen many show Jonsas admit they didn’t find show Jon particularly attractive until s6, despite Kit being recognized as very attractive. Maybe we all just have a thing for the manbun, but I think a big part of it was that suddenly, he was doing things we found attractive. Staring at Sansa with hearts in his eyes, being open and vulnerable in a way we hadn’t seen before, arguing with a peer the way we hadn’t seen before, getting angry and articulating it, making promises to protect her, trying to offer her reassurances, feeling insecure and desperate, riding out onto a field alone to save his brother, nearly beating a man to death, winning back his home, offering trust and forgiveness. There was something in Jon that season that appealed to us, it wasn’t just his face. And I think something like that will happen for Sansa too.

I mentioned Sansa’s crushes were both “knight” figures, her life experiences have evolved that original idea of what a knight is, and although she is a compassionate person, she now thinks she needs someone with a dangerous edge to protect her, so I don’t think she’ll be struck by Jon’s face beyond it meaning safety, seeing her father in it 😬 family, but then as Jon helps win her home back, if she finds out he chopped of Slynt’s head, if he gives her another head (LF!), it’s gonna tap into knight, the romanticized notion she had of them being chivalrous (because Jon will treat her well), the hero she prayed for (there are no heroes -> fetch me a block), and also that dangerous figure who would never harm her but is fully capable of killing the monsters for her.

Also, I absolutely agree about the Beauty and the Beast idea, I started writing about Jon as the Beast/Bear/Death and have lost the draft. It’s definitely where Martin is going though!

[the-trinket-witch]

Haiii 👀 may I ask for 🎞️ and 👁️ for M. Khan please ?

(Ask meme Here)

PAST:

"Congratulations, Mr Khan," Crowley smiled. The plastic smile reached up to the glow under his mask as he shook the hand of a large tiger beastman. "I hereby present thee with your educational diploma. It's been a pleasure teaching you here at Night Raven College. As I would from all my students: I expect to hear great things from you~"

"Thank you, Headmaster," Rajesh growled with an equally rigid grin. "I plan on it."

FUTURE:

"This is a first, for you," Mr Khan chuckled. The phone on his desk crackled with speaker ambience; voices in an infirmary ward.

"Yesss, and in any other circumssstance I wouldn't bother calling," Dr Sona groaned. He couldn't help silently thanking The Seven for The Boss not requesting a video call. "But that Sssick leave I've accumulated will need to be put to use finally. I'm a bit under the weather."

"If you of all people are asking for sick leave, then it must be serious," Rajesh sighed. "Consider your 'mission' on hold for the time being. Before you go, though, I'd like a report on that Spade Delivery Acquisition."

There was a pause from the other end. A long, concerning pause. "A...recccent development has made the Acquisition much more difficult. Unfortunately Ms Ssspade has been convinced not to sell the company; and the bumpkins in her town have all been raising a ssstink about 'keeping business local'. It may be a bit of of a headache to continue, I'm afraid."

Another pause, this time on Khan's end. From the silence, came a low but quickly deafening roar. The other end rattled into ending the call. A clenched Tiger's fist slammed the desk in frustration. I'm not going to waste time or money with such a thing; if they want their business so damn bad, they can fight against competition for it.

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