#all in all though a very good guess and entertaining to read

[jfkisonthemoon]

So from what you told me and what I can tell, orv is about a guy who gets teleported to the novel he was reading to help fix the ending, the other guy and girl who he's with in the fanart are characters from the novel. And then at some point in the end he went back to his own original world. What about the other 2 characters though? Are they now just considered fictional characters from his world's perspective?

this is actually a very good guess considering the content ive reblogged recently

its less that he gets teleported to the novel and more that the novel becomes real. the other guy hes with is the protagonist of the novel and the girl is a writer who plagiarized the novel. explaining the whole worldline thing would probably take me awhile and include heavy spoilers so i dont know if ill get into all of that but there is some worldline shenanigans with him at the end of the novel. many of the novel characters who became real eventually learn of their origin and begin to move beyond their circumstances and are recognized as no longer 'characters' at some point in their arcs.

the whole novel toys around a lot with what it means for a book to become reality or for reality to be a book. some very fun mind games, and after 6000 pages everything takes on a whole new meaning

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader | Chapter 2 - Keep Him Happy

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, no warnings apply for this chapter.

A/N: Wow chapter 2 only one day later? Crazy! I already promise that's not a rate I'll keep up, lmao.

Read it on AO3 Chapter 1

1.5K words

So, Bob was not, in fact, a child. He was a grown man who seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself. His face was somewhat youthful, so you weren’t sure exactly how old he was, but you’d wager it was older than you. 

“Why is it exactly that you need a babysitter?” You asked directly. No use beating around the bush. You ignored the whole flashback memory thing, guessing you’d be enlightened with the details when the rest of the team came back. It wasn’t exactly a fond experience. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say babysitter… It’s just, uh… best to not leave me to my own devices, I guess,” he shrugged. You nodded awkwardly, not sure what to make of the situation. The promised pay was good, you wouldn’t actually have to take care of him, just keep him company. It didn’t seem like a bad deal. 

But even then, he was obviously unstable. Maybe what he needed was a mental health professional, not a ‘babysitter.’ You were probably just a temporary solution. 

You sat in an awkward silence for a while, sipping your drink every now and then trying to think of a lighthearted topic to entertain him with. “So… Tell me about yourself, Bob.” 

“Well, I’m… Bob. Short for, uh, Robert, as you might’ve guessed,” Bob nodded. You sighed inwardly, this was going to be tougher than you expected. Children were usually a lot easier, willing to tell you all of their and their parent’s business. Cats were even better, no need for talking. Bob was going to take some work. 

“How’d you end up here, with these people, I mean?” You wondered. He seemed normal enough, but obviously the ‘New Avengers’ cared about him enough to try and keep him out of harm's way and around their building. 

“It’s kind of a funny story, really. One second I’m in Malaysia in some lab for a medical study, the next I wake up in this bunker with these guys trying to kill each other…” 

You squint your eyes in question. “That is… Funny?” 

“Yeah now that I’m putting it like that it doesn’t sound very funny, does it?” Bob chuckled. It seemingly broke some of the tension. He asked you a few questions about yourself and your contact with Alexei. 

“He seems very sweet,” you concluded. Bob agreed, letting you know the man definitely had his heart in the right place, though sometimes a bit overenthusiastic. 

He told you about the rest of the team, and you noticed he was inconspicuously perceptive. He went one by one, wasting time by talking about the people surrounding him most days. 

“Yelena looks really tough, and she is! But she’s really a big softie,” Bob spoke of her very fondly, a twinkle of adoration in his eyes. 

“Ava’s a bit of a tough nut to crack, but she has a really good sense of humour. She’s a bit more reserved, but really has your back when you need her. She’ll deny it, though.” 

You poured yourself another glass of soda, offering Bob one as well. He declined but thanked you for the offer to a degree which dazed you. You took a mental note of the skittish demeanour. 

“John’s an asshole. Can’t really put it anyway else. He’s here, he’ll show up for the others, but… I can’t really say I’ve come to like him like the others. I’d put it as toloration. I mean he has a history… But who doesn’t? Doesn’t give him the right to be a douche, you know?” He obviously had a strong sense of righteousness, and John did not fit into that picture. 

“And lastly there’s Bucky, but I’m sure you know about him. Congressman and such. He’s not around here much. He tries to be, but I feel like he’s still a bit wary of the team. Part of me thinks he just doesn’t want to get attached, which I can understand, given his past…” Bob looked out the window, seemingly lost in a deep thought. His eyes glazed over and an overwhelming sadness overtook his face. It’d gotten dark in the time you’d been here, the city skyline lit up with artificial lighting. 

“Whatever you do, try to keep him happy, distracted and away from danger.” Yelena’s words echoed in your head. There was likely a good reason for the particular instructions. 

“Well, Bob, thank you for opening up and telling me about them. I feel like we’re likely gonna be spending some more time together, so I really appreciate that you feel safe enough to share,” you smiled, distracting him from his spiralling thoughts. 

Bob smiled before looking a little confused at his own actions. You felt like he might’ve maybe shared a little more than he’d intended. 

You were racking your brain for another topic to talk about when the elevator doors opened once again. Bob deflated, hunching in on himself and making himself visibly smaller. You hadn’t even noticed how his posture had opened up during your conversation.

It was Yelena and Alexei, joking with each other in, was that Russian? They walked in as if they hadn’t just fought off whatever it was that had ransacked the subway and blasted itself into the building. You looked at them expectantly, waiting to finally get an explanation. 

“Ah, right, babysitter. It’s quite late, maybe you should head home?” Yelena suggested, cracking her neck while unloading a few weapons on a side table like she was dropping off her keys after coming home from the office. 

“Was this just a one time thing, or will I be coming back?” You wondered. You could use the money.  

“That depends… Bob? Do you like her?” 

Bob spluttered and gaped at Yelena, unsure of how to answer. “I– I mean, yeah, she’s– She’s nice. I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“We can find different babysitter if you want. Many more on the app,” Alexei chimed in as he huffed and puffed, trying to get his suit off in the middle of the living room. It looked more like he was doing a form of experimental yoga. 

“No, no. This one’s fine,” Bob winced. You’d really have to come up with a different title than ‘babysitter’ if this was going to become a lasting thing. 

“Good, then she stays. Ava and John are debriefing Bucky. It was just some lowlife with some experimental tech, but man, whatever he was shooting with stung like a b–” 

“Lena, language, we have guest,” Alexei shushed her. Yelena rolled her eyes in response. 

She nodded her head at you, motioning for you to come with her. You shot Bob a quick glance, who gave you a tight lipped smile but seemingly encouraged you to go with her. 

Yelena took you to a smaller separate sitting room and offered you a glass of whiskey, which you refused. “No drinking on the job,” you laughed. 

“So, you’re probably wondering, why does a grown man need a babysitter? Well, I’m gonna explain. But first, what did Bob tell you?” she started, sitting down next to you and leaning on the back of the couch, resting her head in her hand. You mimicked her relaxed posture, putting a leg up on the couch. 

“Not much, really. He told me a bit about you guys and how you met. He mentioned something about a medical study in Malaysia, but other than that nothing too memorable.” 

“Did you happen to shake his hand?” Ah, there it was. Yelena could tell by your expression the answer was yes. 

“Yeah, it happened to us, too. You see, Bob… He’s very strong. Stronger than all of us combined. But he’s not stable. He’s a bit of a grey area in the team. We keep him around because he’s nice, of course, but also because we can’t risk anybody else trying to get on his good side and abusing his trust.” She took a sip of the whiskey, relishing its taste before continuing. 

“We’re still not really sure what his powers are, and it’s also not up to me to disclose all of the information besides the basics. All I can tell you is that we can’t risk taking him into the field, but we also can’t risk leaving him alone for too long. His abilities are closely tied to his mental wellbeing. It sounds a little degrading to describe it this way,” Yelena winced. She evidently had very conflicting feelings on the topic. You understood it must be difficult, wanting to keep him out of harm’s way without babying him. 

“But it’s really a matter of keeping him happy and distracted when it’s necessary. He needs help, a lot of it, but we just haven’t had the time to figure out how to go about it. So for now, this is it. I’m sorry for all the confusion, but with a ‘job’ as unpredictable as ours, this is the reality. Can you handle that?” Her gaze was piercing, as if she was trying to read every single thought crossing your mind. 

“You care about him deeply,” you observed. 

She gave a fond smile. “I do.” 

“Then I think I can handle it. As long as I don’t have to lie to him or beat around the bush, I can do my best to keep him company and help wherever I can. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll try.” 

“That’s all we ask.” 

It was settled, then. You were hired. 

Chapter 3

TAGLIST: @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @hopes-peak-akademy @rattheraddestrat @i-shall-abide @puer-aurea @kennywantskfc69 @spectacled-studies @hiddlebatchedloki

[odoraful]

𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑲 𝑻𝑶𝑶 𝑴𝑼𝑪𝑯

wanderer finds a way to ease your insecurities after you overhear some rumors

⟡ content: wanderer x gn!reader ; established relationship ; reader is a student at the akademiya ; reader feeling a bit insecure about their relationship with wanderer ; but he knows a good counter :) ; the vibe i was going for was silly and sweet hehe ; 2k w/c

⟡ a/n: i did proofread and edit this, but i was a little sleepy in the process, so apologies for any glaring errors! i hope you enjoy, mwah !

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Just because the Akademiya was one of the leading institution for academics in Teyvat doesn’t mean that its students are all about studies. Gossip and rumors were some of the biggest sources of entertainment to come out of its lecture halls and labs.

Though many of these tales were unfalsifiable, students did not need to adhere to rigorous experimental principles when it came to coming up with stories. It all started with the story that the building Vahumana scholars studied in was haunted. Apparently, a Vahumana researcher had brought home an ancient relic they weren't supposed to from the ruins of one of their expeditions. This relic held a spirit who had been a revered warrior in ages long past. Angered at being removed from their station, the spirit now stalked the halls, trying to enact revenge on the person that committed this heinous act. If objects were knocked over by an unseen force, and the air grew chilly, it was said to be a sign that the spirit was near. From then on, many other stories began to rise, each to varying degrees of popularity.

Wanderer thought all of this to be absolute rubbish.

But, he did find the deliberate arousal of widespread fear to be quite amusing. Spread by the students themselves, no less. Mortals were certainly interesting creatures. He also loathed these rumors and tales popping up because he found himself to be wrapped up in one himself:

Hat guy is dating someone famous!

Someone had seen Wanderer on a date and, to everyone’s complete shock, being intimate. But, it was only from a distance, so they couldn’t figure out their identity. Thus, the speculations began. Wanderer wished everyone would just mind their own business.

As an Akademiya student yourself, you have also heard many of these stories during your time here. And as Wanderer’s partner, the ones about his romantic relationship was something you’d wish you heard less of. Unfortunately, you were now within hearing distance of an excited group of students talking about exactly that. They were seated at one of the public tables used for studying, though they were doing very little of it.

“Guess what?!” one of them exclaimed. “I saw Hat Guy the other day with his mystery partner.”

The rest of the group erupted into gasps. Is this some kind of Hat Guy fan club? you couldn’t help but wonder.

You stood innocently by the message board a ways from them, pretending to check and read if any new information had been added whilst your ears remained perked.

“No way! Did you find out who they were?”

“I had to rush of to class before I could sneak by them!” the witness of your date huffed. “I wouldn't have to do all this if he wasn't so secretive about this.”

Two days ago, you had indeed met up with Wanderer between classes, sitting by one of the more secluded gazebos in Razan Garden. You both weren’t actively trying to keep your relationship a secret, rather, you just enjoyed your privacy more.

One of them folded their arms rather decisively. “It has to be a celebrity. With how haughty he is, there’s no way that Hat Guy would settle for anyone who wasn’t some renowned star.”

Hey, that’s a bit rude! you protested internally. They don’t have to be a renowned star…

“That’s why he’s being so hush-hush about it, so it doesn’t become a huge scandal.”

“They must be jaw-droppingly gorgeous then. Only the best for the leading scholar of Vahumana,” agreed another, with loving sigh that made your eye twitch.

You pouted to yourself. Sure, you thought you were somewhat pretty, but not anything jaw-dropping… Hang on, why were you giving into these strangers’ silly speculations?

“Could they be a performer from Fontaine? I heard they have a grand Opera there.”

“They’re probably a vision wielder as well!”

“Yeah, definitely not some ordinary student like us.”

“Or maybe they’re a famous bard from Mondstadt—”

The group turned into a flurry of chatter as they continued with their guesswork. Your time here was up. You didn’t feel like listening any longer.

Some ordinary student… you repeated in your head. It wasn’t untrue, but the way it was said by them made it seem completely absurd for Wanderer to even consider dating someone like you.

Just as you turned to walk away, you jumped at a sudden noise.

An open door to an empty classroom had slammed shut. The sharp thud echoed throughout the space.

The chatter from the students immediately ceased.

They began to laugh uneasily. Surely that was just caused by a simple strong draft. The laughing faded when the books and loose parchment on their table were suddenly pushed to the side, the lighter of these items tumbling to the floor. They all stood up, horror frozen on their faces. The air grew noticeably cooler. Wind swept in, causing the papers pinned to the message board in front of you to flutter.

“I-it’s the ghost!” one of the students shrieked, pointing to one of the doorways that led into this central space. “The ghost of the Vahumana building!”

A figure loomed at the threshold, a sinister air surrounding them.

The group of students snatched their bags and rushed as fast as they could away, scrambling for the exit in the opposite direction. Their urgency greatly juxtaposed against your nonreaction.

There was just something about the figure that was all too familiar.

Stepping into the lit space, the figure ruffled a hand in his violet hair. Annoyance was twisted on his face.

“Using your anemo on Akademiya grounds?” you asked with a quirk in your brow.

Wanderer let out a huff, walking towards you. “For good reason. Not only were those students talking nonsense, they had the audacity to be loud about it too.”

Since there was no one around at the moment, you felt comfortable enough to bring up a hand to tidy his hair up. Though he gave a begrudged sigh, Wanderer leaned into your touch as you combed your fingers through it.

“I didn’t know you were the ghost of the Vahumana building,” you teased, moving an index finger down to poke at his cheek. “You seem pretty corporeal to me.”

“That ridiculous story again?” Wanderer responded, swatting at you to stop. “Humans seek out information that already confirms their previous beliefs. They saw whatever they wanted to see.”

Even though he shrugged as he spoke, Wanderer was unmistakably satisfied with the result of his doings. As he was heading to meet up with you to head home together, he heard that group of students yapping away about his relationship and saw your discomfort at their rudeness. He needed them gone and gone fast. So, he conjured up his most basic form of anemo. Even that was enough to send them scurrying away like mice.

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You both were bathed in the warm sun as you walked through the streets of Sumeru City. It was a lively afternoon, with people bustling about to run errands or savor the perfect weather. Usually, you’d also relish in a day like this, but your attention was elsewhere. The conversation those students had repeated frustratingly in your mind, as much as you didn’t want it to affect you. Your focus returned just in time for you to move away as a woman carrying several boxes of Harra fruit almost sent you toppling over.

“Be careful there!” she called before moving on her way.

You shouted an apology, shaking your head in an attempt to return to your senses. Wanderer frowned, tugging at your arm to pull you closer to him.

"Are you going to spit it out?”

Though you hadn’t done anything wrong, you still felt like you’d been caught.

”Spit what out?” you answered.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he said, glowering at you. “You’ve been acting strange since we left the Akademiya.”

Turning the corner into the more residential area of the city, the streets grew less busy, save for the occasional resident tending to their garden outside or taking a walk with their family.

There was no keeping anything from Wanderer with his senses and hard-headedness. You probably had a better chance with hiding a Sumpter Beast under a blanket.

“I was just thinking about what those students were talking about back at the Akademiya. You know, about who you were dating.”

“They were saying: Oh, they must be some kind of celebrity, or famous adventurer with a really cool vision who’s super incredibly gorgeous and isn’t just some nothing student,” you mimicked with disdain.

Wanderer cocked his head to the side. “And that was verbatim?”

“Yes, yes it was!” you nodded emphatically, ignoring his pointed sarcasm. “It just had me feeling I don’t know…”

Wanderer didn’t say anything more as your sentence trailed off. He simply looked at you, expectantly. The sound of your feet hitting the paved road rung clear in the air, every step pushing you to admit what you were truly feeling.

“I just felt a bit insecure!” you blurted out.

Sighing, the words began to tumble from you.

“Like if this is the kind of image people have about who’s dating you, once they see me they’ll start to think: Why on Teyvat is he dating that person? Which will make me think: Why on Teyvat are you dating me?”

“And I know, it’s horrible to think like this, and I don’t want doubt your reasons for liking me, but I just can't help it. So, now I’m starting to worry whether you'd prefer someone else—”

Your rambling stopped short.

Not because you had lost your train of thought, but because there was something physically preventing you from continuing.

Your lips was being covered by Wanderer’s own.

Your mind finally registered that he was kissing you in the middle of the street, only a few blocks away from your home.

Protests of stopping him fizzled away as you relaxed in his hold. His hand moved up to rest at the base of your neck and you gave in to the soft coolness of his lips. Wanderer’s kisses always had a hunger behind them, but there was something else now too.

Frustration.

Like he was trying to send you some kind of message each heated movement. When he finally pulled away, your body was left with tingles and you were still enveloped in his gentle scent of linen and parchment.

Wanderer silently admired the flush he left on your lips—the colour of ripened Zaytun peaches. He lightly tapped the side of your forehead with a finger, almost in scolding.

“You’re really that affected by the stupid things other people say?” he chided.

You blinked at him, still slightly dazed by his previous stunt.

He continued, with a sincerity to his voice that gave you pause, “Isn’t the proof you need right here? I chose you. So no, I wouldn’t want some famous superstar, or whatever, because they wouldn’t be you.”

Your mouth parted at such an open confession. Wanderer couldn’t handle the joy swimming in your eyes and turned away, hiding his own buzzing feeling that rose within him with a long sigh.

“I can’t believe you’re feeling like this when we’re walking to our shared home together,” he muttered, starting to walk again.

You kept up by his side, hands behind your back. You almost felt like skipping now down this street.

“Do you think you could say all that one more time?” you asked, the question filled with mirth.

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“Nope,” Wanderer, again, immediately replied.

“But what if I need more reassurance?”

You angled yourself to try and meet his gaze, hoping that the pleading in your expression would better convince him. However, he seemed to be notably avoiding your eyes. Unconsciously, Wanderer’s eyes flicked over to you. In that millisecond, his own resolve crumbled. He groaned aloud.

“Later… then…” he conceded with a mutter.

For all of Wanderer's supposed unwillingness, he would always give you the reassurance you needed in his own mischievous way. Still, he didn’t like how those rumors had so quickly burrowed into you. Perhaps it was time to stamp them all out by showcasing to everyone who he was dating.

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[zepskies]

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.    

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut. 

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said. 

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?” 

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap. 

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once. 

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?” 

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said. 

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks. 

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly. 

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.  

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.  

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. "By the end, D-Day was just one of a lot of days."

You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.  

His brows furrowed. “Do what?” 

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms. 

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.” 

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.” 

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice. 

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff. 

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so. 

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly. 

“Hmm. No real loss there then.” 

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.” 

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner. 

“Excuse me?” 

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.” 

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[starvales]

wdym i have a head dent?!

narumi gen / gn!spouse!reader

synopsis : "narumi gen is highly respected in his own division, with every officer following him with determination and every platoon leader dyeing their hair like him as a sign of respect."

content : only crack, fluff, gender neutral reader, reader works in jakdf, a few flashbacks, a little bit more on the lore side, the word beautiful is used to describe the reader, shinonome's age is just a guess, mostly shinonome pov, narumi should have his own warning fr, vice captain and platoon leaders are tired.

words : 1.7k

a/n : you can’t convince me that this man hasn’t went out on a mission with a head dent at least once-

part two of 'a cheers to our youth'

She remembers years ago, newly turned twenty, and nervously standing in front of your desk, arms crossed behind her back, posture rigid.

This would be the first time she will be meeting you in person, rather than listening to your demands through a communicator.

Now is the time to make the best lasting first impression. To prove that she is capable of handling things much bigger than an ordinary officer.

"Thank you very much for deeming me worthy of a rank review! I will not let you down!"

"Don't thank me for something as trivial as just a chance of a promotion. I know you'll do well in the future, Shinonome. The person you really need to impress is the First Captain."

You do not look up from your paperwork, and though many will see this as quite cold and rude, she's heard from numerous people that you simply do not have the time to entertain anything or anyone else within working hours.

The fact that you even spared a one-on-one meeting with her was an honour, and Shinonome will forever respect your dedication. Unfortunately, her lips move to articulate her thoughts before she could stop herself.

"I aspire to contribute to the Defence Force as much as you and Captain Narumi, Head! Please wait for me!" She slaps a hand over her mouth.

Stopping your editing to the paper before you, you look up at her in surprise at her outburst. Shinonome is swift in attempting to correct her statement.

"Uhm...! I did not mean it in that way, Head. A-Apologies for speaking out of line. I'll commence however many push ups-"

"Hahaha!" You made no move to hide your mirth and Shinonome does not know whether to be concerned or relieved at your reaction.

She curses at herself. Dammit, well done, Rin. You definitely made a lasting first impression alright. Great, now Head is gonna see you as a clown vying for their hand.

"No need for the push ups. I appreciate your passion, Shinonome. However, I am already married, so I will have to decline." It seems that you will not let her forget this. How cruel...

Wiping a forming tear at the edge of your eye, you sigh lightheartedly. "It's a good thing that you didn't say that to your Captain or else his head would blow up bigger than it already is!"

By now, the officer is bright red at her blunder before your words catch up to her. Wait, married...? Weren't you only a year or two older than her? Is she already falling behind her peers in yet another department?!

And though she does not say her thoughts aloud this time, you seem to be able to read her befuddled face too well. You hold up your hand and lift two fingers up like a peace sign, a soft smile adorning your own face.

At that moment, Shinonome realises that you are much friendlier in person compared to when you are communicating with Captain Narumi.

During missions, it was like listening to dogs fighting.

"I am two or three years older than you, I think, If I remember reading your files correctly. I just got married really young so don't worry too much about finding love or whatnot for now. Live in the present and all that." You wave off casually.

"If I may be so bold to ask..." Shinonome only now notices the metal band that you adorn around your fourth finger and shyly looks at her own twiddling bare fingers.

"Hm? Go ahead." Your focus is still on her.

"What age did you get married?"

"Eighteen."

"?!"

You burst back into laughter when Shinonome's composed and seemingly nonchalant persona crumbles and she is left there dumbfounded.

A feint 'don't mind' playfully slips out as you excuse yourself to deliver your now finished papers and pat her shoulder on your way to the door.

Shinonome finds that you will truly not let her live down her moment in your office.

Even months later, after she was proven competent and promoted to Platoon Leader. Be it during a mission, passing each other in the corridor, or in a meeting.

("Platoon Leader Shinonome, please wait for me in my office after this." / "Shinonome, please wait for the arrival of new equipment sent over by...." / "Ah, Rin. Thanks for waiting for me, traffic was atrocious today!" All of those interactions being followed by a knowing smirk.)

Despite this, the two of you have grown closer, more casual. Dare she say that the two of you were even friends.

She learnt that you are married to the Narumi Gen and that you have known him since you were children (she had always assumed those endearments he torments you with during missions were a joke).

Learns you prefer drinking iced coffee rather than hot.

You only wear shoes you can very easily slip on.

You like to make edits to documents using a purple pen rather than the standard red.

You personalise your lab coats by stitching your initials and operator number to the cuffs (swearing her to secrecy, you tell her that you also stitch Captain Narumi's initials, but instead at the cuffs, it's hidden inside the pocket over where your heart is).

In spite of your seemingly intimidating work front, you are still very much human.

(Years down the line, Shinonome has well learnt that you were never scary, or aloof, or anything of the sort. She guesses your role in the Defence Force just forces you to seem like it, given your importance.)

Shinonome also learns that you and Narumi dye each other's hair.

"Oh, this?" You motion to the groupings of fresh silver highlights in your hair. The Platoon Leader had to deliver some documents and noticed the change and decided to compliment you on it, it fits you. She asks if you had it done professionally.

It looks really nice... maybe she would suit something similar?

"No, I didn't go to a salon. You think I have the money for that sort of thing?" Yes, yes you do, Head.

"I've been dyeing Captain Loser's hair since we were teenagers, and he decided while we were touching up his roots that it's been a while since we were matching and wouldn't leave me alone otherwise. I didn't get to sleep until two last night!"

You say it with such disdain that if she were a new recruit, she would think that you meant it.

But Shinonome knew you better than that, because you could never hide the adoration that shone through your irises, or the fondness in your smile.

Perhaps, one day, she will meet someone that would elicit the same reaction when talking about her...

"He wanted to do my hair without my help so now there's a chunk of under layer hair that's all silver instead of just highlights. If you look even closer, you might see just bleached bits that he forgot to colour! He botched it!"

She would be lying if she were to say she wasn’t jealous.

You are beautiful and intelligent and considerate and sincere. And though you are not physically strong, you show your strength in a plethora of other ways, your contributions named on newspapers displayed along your office walls are evident of that. Your strategies and tactics have led many to victory and the Eastern Defence Force is as strong as ever.

Truly, you and Narumi Gen are forces to be reckoned with and Shinonome could not be more thankful to be so in reach.

She does not realise she was staring at you for so long until you speak up.

"Ah! Would you like me to do your hair sometime?"

"Oi, Dumbass. Stop trying to act cool in front of the newbies."

Narumi, dramatically posing solemnly atop a fresh kaiju corpse, tilts his head back to face the flying drone's camera and shows off a smirk at the sound of your voice.

"Well, if it isn't my darling dearest, everything okay at Comms?" He waves lazily, but this seems to irk you more.

"You were playing Underwatch, when I told you not to, weren't you." You frame it as a statement, rather than a question.

Everyone in Operations and Officers around Narumi watches as their Captain's jaw drops to the floor, eyes bulging out of his skull.

He is quick to grab at the drone and shakes it wildly, as if it was a person he was trying to gouge information out of. The propellers are swift to turn off, you knew this kind of reaction was coming from miles away.

"Who snitched?!" His face is all up on the camera.

At this point, Narumi knew that it was of his best interest to admit the truth rather than make up excuses on the spot, especially if you used that tone.

But how could you have possibly found out? He even made sure to download a special VPN so you couldn't track his gameplay! Was it Hasegawa? It had to have been Hasegawa. Damn you, Hasegawa-

"Your galactic-sized head dent gave it away. Do you not have enough sense to at least fix it before you leave for duty?" You sigh on the other end of the mic, disappointment evident in your admonishment.

"Huh?"

The drone starts up again and Narumi is forced to let go as it turns to face ninety degrees away from him and projects a hologram of himself, but from his side.

Lo and behold, all of the Captain's hair is sticking straight up, as per usual when he is in combat, except for the areas at the centre of his skull, a clear band of hair matted down with a sheen of presumably sweat.

"Pfft, I hope the news articles capture this very flattering side of you! 'What a loser,' they'll all say." You do your best to cover up a snicker. The drone is now happily emoting like an actual person, tilting side to side as if it were someone's head, taunting him.

"NO!!" Narumi is on his knees, frantically trying to fix his hair while maniacal laughter resonates from the floating device.

From a distance, a certain Platoon Leader watches on, irked. Out of all of the people to admire for the power they bring to the Defence Force, out of all the people to strive to be like, why did it have to be these two?

[kilojulietsierra]

Baby, It's Alright - Chapter Three (Dr Robby x FemNurse!Reader)

Ok y'all the storms were messing with my internet last night so sorry for the delay, but here it is!

TW: All my content is considered 18+ so proceed accordingly, fluff, a little smut, early days of dating miscommunication, Robby is a bad influence but also wants to spoil her so bad, mentions of therapy, language, Sam makes another cameo, grammar and spelling cuz I don't edit this shit lol

Need to catch up? Chapter One Chapter Two

~~~~~~

Chapter Three

Michael had let you pick the restaraunt, which you appreciated. You'd picked a small place a few blocks from your apartment. A hole in the wall tavern with an eclectic drink menu and a margherita flatbread you could live on if you allowed yourself. The litghting was dim, the interior was all brick and reclaimed wood, the music was soft and jazzy, you loved this place. You also loved the way Michael looked as he glanced over the menu with his glasses on.

"Friendly reminder, I'm old." He deadpanned from beside you at the bar.

"Not even close to what I was thinking." You can't quite look at him when you say it so you pretend to read the menu.

His knee bumps yours to pull your attention back, "And what exactly were you thinking then?" He settles his eyes on you, the glasses just low enough on the bridge of his nose that he can study you over the top of them.

You wish you had a drink already because your mouth goes a little dry, "Definitly not that you're old." You avoid the question and your cheeks warm at the way he smirks.

He let's it go, though he continues to look skeptical, maybe a little mischievous. "Jack gives me hell, says I should just get lasik. Says it's life changing."

"I like the glasses." You can't bring yourself to look at him when you say it, except out the corner of your eye. Enough that you catch the way his smile ticked up to one side.

"Good to know." Michael nodded and went back to the menu, "Very good to know."

~~~~~

Michael walked you home after dinner and it was chilly enough in the evenings now that you felt justified in sticking close to him. You thought your heart was going to stop when he reached over to grab your hand and pulled it, guided it easily so that he could link your arm through his.

It felt good, it felt easy and right and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep what would surely be the most ridiculous smile off your face.

He opened the door to your building for you, and when his hand settled in the middle of your back to guide you through you were nearly certain you would spontaneously combust.

Michael though, Michael seemed so calm and quiet, kept the same easy smile on his face like it was completely normal. When he helped you out of your coat, finally inside your apartment, you entertained the thought. How nice would it be for this to be your normal?

"You want something to drink?"

You grin, "He asks me in my own apartment."

Michael grinned back at you and leaned against the counter in your tiny kitchen, "Well?"

You chew your lip and concedes, "There's a bottle of wine in the fridge, nothing fancy." You try not to feel silly. Your mind automatically jumped to Jack and Sam's house with it's wine cooler and collection of whiskey and bourban. "Sorry, I don't have any bourban or anything like that."

He had already opened and closed the door to your fridge and begun the search through your cabinets for glasses. "Don't need anything fancy." He said it offhand, but then Michael must have seen the look on your face, "Hey, what's wrong?"

You hesitated, "Honestly, just feeling kind of silly I guess." T

he cupboard door thunked and he crossed the small kitchen, his eyes scanned your face and then before you could explain yourself futher Michael was kissing you.

Dr.Michael Robinavitch, was standing in the tiny kitchen, of your tiny apartment, towering over you, one warm hand on your cheek... and kissing you. It was soft and slow and over too soon. "Better?" His smile was soft, his eyes warm and searching as he tried to read your expression.

Your breathing still hadn't regulated, your mind still racing, but you couldn't keep the smile off your face. "Maybe, a little."

When his smile widened and he leaned in to kiss you again, it felt like your heart was going to break free from your chest. His hand didn't move, he didn't move, he only kissed you. Smoothed his lips overs yours in long, steady passes.

When he pulled back he tugged your bottom lip with him and he must of liked the way it made you giggle because he dropped one more kiss to your lips. His thumb stroked over the place where he had treated the airbag burn on your cheeks the couple weeks before. Like an afterthought he tipped his head and dropped a kiss there too, lips just brushing the apple of your cheek. "How about now?" His voice was low and warm and close enough to your ear to send shivers down your spine.

"Feel like I could use that drink now." You couldn't help the near giggle that escaped, but you also couldn't help but notice the way Michaels gaze darted lower, his cheeks a little pink, when you bit your lip to stifle it.

He gave you a smirk and a half chuckle, "I can make that happen." HIs thumb stroked over your cheekbone one more time and then he was back on his search for wine glasses. "Go sit, I'll bring it over."

You did as he said and watched him from your little loveseat as he moved through your kitchen and poured the wine. As he approached you felt simultaneously embarassed by the tiny couch in your tiny apartment, and beyond grateful for it because it left little room to sit anywhere except right up against him.

When he brought you the wine he handed you a glass and then dropped himself into the empty corner of the sofa. He turned to face you, right arm drapped over the back, one leg folded up on the seat cushiion. WIth his other hand he raised his glass, "To finally getting that second date." He clinked his glass to yours, "Worth the wait."

The only answer you could form was an embarrasingly giddy smile that you immediately tried to hide in your wine.

Michael grinned wider and took a sip for himself. "If I can ask, why did you say you felt silly?"

You took another hurried sip of wine and then shook your head, "Nothing really."

He looked at you in a way he hadn't since that first night at Jack and Sam's. Like he was trying to figure something out. "I'd like it if you'd tell me." His expression was so soft, curious, eyes so sincere.

"Well," You start, "Maybe it's stupid, probably is, but I guess it's just that... I really like you and spending time with you and it's just sort of, jarring maybe," You twisted up your face trying hard to put your feelings into a coherent sentence. "Now that i'm saying this out loud I'm actively realizing it's stupid." You busted out into a laugh and finally just spit it out, "My apartment is tiny and embarrassing, and I only have these two wine glasses, like maybe four forks, the bedding on my bed right now is from Walmart and it's like four years old. Feel like I'm playing out of my league I guess."

If the embarrassment didn't kill you after spitting all that out, the look on Michaels face might.

Michael simply shook his head, his grin still present but softer, "You understand that none of that,"

"I know." You interrupt him, shake your head at yourself and lean your head against your hand, mirroring Michaels position opposite you. "I... I do know. Think you just..." the words trailed off as you really studied the way the man across from you was looking at you. The effect it had on you, "You have me all flustered."

His grin turned into a smile, a chuckle even, and he turned his head to one side as he stretched his arm towards you over the back of the couch. Warm, gentle fingers tugged at your wrist until your arm was laid over the back of the couch like his. Michaels fingers traced over the inside of your wrist. He locked eyes with you and kept his voice low, "You think I'm not?"

~~~~~~

You and Robby were dating.

You were dating Dr. Michael Robinavitch.

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch sent you cute text messages, called you on the mornings or evenings your schedules didn't line up, he even occasionally sent you Doordash while you were on shift.

Like tonight, for example, when you walked past Sam where she sat behind the nurses station at her computer. Her eyes locked on yours with a very satisfied smirk on her face.

"What?" You attempted to play it off as you settled into an empty chair behind the station.

Sam just shook her head, "Didn't say anthing."

"You're thinking something, I can tell." You rolled your eyes as you dug into the bag from your favorite Italian place.

The charge nurse grinned and spun her chair to face you, "You guys are just cute, that's all." Her grin doubled when you pretended to be overly invested in your late night lunch. Sam spun back to her computer, "Wish I had someone to send me lunch from my favorite place in the middle of a long shift."

You scoffed, "Oh please." You stopped with the plastic fork halfway to your mouth. "I wIsh I had a shiny new $90,000 SUV."

Sam laughed as she picked up her water bottle and spun back around to face you, "Just have to ask really nice." She threw you a wink before she took a long drink of water.

"I don't know about that," You paused again to look at your forkfull of food, "Feels weird when he spends money on me, even stuff like this." You took the bite of pasta finally. Savored it for a moment. "Feels like mooching or something."

WIth a scoff Sam spun a circle in her chair, "Honey, not to be that person, but do you know what your new boyfriend makes a year?" Her eyes were wide when she hunted for your gaze, "He has the money to spend, and I know Robby well enough to know that shit like that," She points to the lunch he'd sent you, "That's like a love language for him. He likes taking care of people, especially his people."

The radio on the desk by Sam's computer crackled and squelched before you could respond, or even think through how you would respond. Ambulance service was en route.

You shoved a few more bites of the pasta in your mouth as fast as you could without choking and tried not to get hung up on the fact that Sam had used the word boyfriend. You and Robby were dating, but the words boyfriend or girlfriend hadn't been used, and as silly as it may have been that suddenly made you a little less confident in your new relationship status. '

~~~~~

Want to get dinner tonight? Promise I'll try and get out on time.'

You had stared at that text message longer than you'd care to admit. Wasn't like it was a booty call, it was dinner. Michael had a long weekend and you had the night off. It would make sense to go out, but you had got into your head again.

He sent you the sweet texts, he called you, he took you out, sent you lunch at work, kissed you. In fact, he kissed you like no man had ever kissed you before, but you hadn't yet talked about where this would end up. Did you want the same thing?

When the phone in your hand vibrated you nearly dropped it. Michael Robinavitch.

"Hey."

"Hey, didn't know if you saw my text, want to grab dinner?"

"Michael, am I your girlfriend?" The words were out of your mouth before you could even think twice. Your stomach dropped as you heard yourself speak them outloud.

For a moment the line was quiet. "Yes... at least... I've been working under that assumption." Another long pause. "Is that okay?"

"I'm sorry I," "

Hey, no, Don't apologize. Just..." The deep inhale was audible through the phone, "Can I come pick you up?"

Twelve minutes later there was a knock at your door. You'd spent most of that time panic cleaning and trying not to feel like you were going to be sick. Like you hadn't just messed this up. When you opened the door you stood up straight and prepared for... you didn't know what.

Michael was standing there in his scrubs and a wellworn Carhartt coat with snow still melting on the shoulders. He looked tired, but he still smiled when he saw you.

"Hey." Your voice barely registered to your own ears.

He just tilted his head to the side a bit and his smile grew a little, "Want to tell me what's wrong?"

You took a shaky breath and fidgeted in place, "Nerves I guess. We haven't really... labeled this and I think I just got into my own head."

Michael nodded, "Ok." He shoved his hands deeper into the coat pockets, "Well, I had a long fucking day and I'm starving. So, now I would like to spend the evening with my girlfriend. So, why don't you, said girlfriend, go grab your stuff? We'll swing by the house so I can shower and change quick, then you can tell your boyfriend," He smirks a little at the way you're making a face at him, "Which is me, by the way," He points to himself, "Where you want to go for dinner. Sound good?"

Your cheeks are warm and you can't decide whether to roll your eyes or smile like an idiot. So, you do both. "Yeah, that sounds good."

~

You furrowed your brow as you stared out the passenger window of Robby's truck. It never really occurred to you, not that you'd been dating for that long, but you didn't know where he lived. Now, as you drove down another tree lined street with little shops and the old, colonial style townhomes you realized you maybe should have asked. "You live in Shadyside?"

"Mhmm. Bought a place over here few years ago. Got it quote unquote cheap because it needed some work." He glanced over at you as he hit the blinker and turned a corner, "Not what you were expecting?"

"I didn't say that." You gave him another eyeroll and watched him grin, "Not sure what I was expecting I guess."

He slowed down and hit a button above the rearview mirror, "Well," He turned into the short drive and pulled the pickup into the ground level garage, "I dumped about half of what I paid for it into renovating it, so hopefully you approve, because I'm stuck with it for awhile."

When he let you into the house you stuttered to a stop just inside. Your heart dropped at the fact that you had ever let Michael see the inside of your tiny apartment, let alone made him sit on the floor with you and eat. You didn't move until you heard the thud of Michaels backpack and felt two hands settle on your shoulders, "I'm going to go wash the hospital off me quick." He kissed the back of your head, "Make yourself at home, snoop around, help yourself to… whatever." He dropped another kiss to the back of your head and then headed upstairs.

In your mind you had imagined Michael in something like Jack and Sam had. A nice house in the suburbs, lots of room, neat and tidy, maybe a pool. You were wrong, because this house, this house fit Michael Robinavitch in a way a house in the suburbs never could. It was warm, lived in but not quite a mess, not roomy, but comfortable. You felt like you could easily make yourself at home in the space, but you weren't sure if that was because of the house, or because it belonged to Michael.

~~~~~

Robby had showered quickly and tried not spend too much time thinking about the fact that he finally had you in his house. He had just stepped back into the bedroom to change when he paused. He heard something, More than just you moving around the house, so he pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt and headed back downstairs.

If he'd been nervous those feelings disappeared instantly as he came back downstairs and paused around the corner. Robby smirked to himself as he watched you move through his kitchen. Took the moment to stand back, quiet his breathing and watch until you caught him.

You paused, eyes wide and one hand on the refrigerator door, "How long have you been standing there?"

Robby chuckled, "Long enough." He stepped the rest of the way into his kitchen, "What're you looking for?"

"Oh," You looked around, "I thought maybe instead of going out to eat we could make something here."

He took a couple steps closer, smiled and nodded, "I'm guessing you've figured out that I need to get groceries?"

You laughed and Robby couldn't help but smile wider to see it. "Yeah, you really do."

"Okay with takeout? At least for one more night."

"That depends." You bit your lip.

WIth another chuckle Robby shook his head, "You really want Gio's again?" The way your smile doubled told him everything he needed to know. "Ok, pick out a bottle, I gotta go grab my phone and my wallet." He gestured to a built in wine cooler and disappeared back upstairs.

By the time he made it back downstairs, rattling the last few digits of his card off, you had picked out a bottle of wine and apparently found the bottle opener and two glasses. He hadn't needed to ask what to order for you, you always got the same thing, which he found adorable. "Said should be fifteen to twenty."

You met him in the middle of the kitchen with a glass for him, "What do you want to do while we wait?"

Robby grinned, shook his head a little at the glint in your eyes, "How about," He took the glass and set it down before guiding you around to one of the stools tucked under the kitchen island, "We talk about what you said earlier." He held your gaze as he leaned against the opposite side of the island from you, "Because apparently there's been some... miscommunication there. Which is mostly my fault. So, you were worried that this wasn't...?" He let the question trail off in the hopes you would fill in the blank for him.

After a long sip of wine you laid your hands flat on the marble counter top and nodded, "So, Sam said something at work."

Robby let his head bob, snorted because of course it was Sam. Sam always had something to say

"She called you my boyfriend, and it just made me realize we haven't really... put a name or a label on any of this and..." You took a deep breath, flicked your eyes back up to his. "That makes me nervous."

At first he just nodded, tried to hear what you were saying and really understand where you were coming from. "Because that made you think maybe this wasn't as serious as you wanted it to be?" He took an educated guess. When you nodded and looked back to the countertop, Robby nodded along. "I meant what I said when I picked you up tonight. You are my girlfriend. At least that's how I think of you" He scratched at the back of his neck, hearing how silly it sounded, and ducked his head to try and get you to look at him again, "This is real for me, I'm sorry I didn't make that clear." You finally looked up at him, eyes a little glassy, and he gave you a wink, "I'm just a little rusty is all."

You took another sip of your wine and smiled, "Sorry, i've been kind of weird."

Robby brought his wine glass with him as he circled back around the island to come closer to you, "Look at us." He hooked a finger under your chin and tipped your face towards his so he could kiss you briefly, "Communicating." He kissed you again, just a little longer that time.

"Therapist would be so proud." You smiled up at him, chuckled at him when he scrunched his face up and looked away.

"Shouldn't make fun of me." He dropped his hand from your chin to lean on it, fingers splayed wide over the marble counter. "I'm not." You chuckled as you looked up at him. His heart misfired when you raised both hands to rest over his chest.

"I think it's sexy you go to therapy."

"Jesus Christ." He murmered and chuckled at himself, his brain short circuited as he watched your smaller hands smooth over the front of his shirt. It made you laugh, which made him happy. "Anything else would you like to communicate about?" Robby liked the way you rolled your eyes at him. It made him want to do and say whatever it took so you'd keep doing it. He also liked the way you always had to bite back a smile while you did it. "Anything at all?"

You looked up at him from your seat on the stool, grin on your face, and seemed to think for a moment, "We could talk about why you've been slumming it, coming over to my itty bitty, sad little apartment instead of asking me to come over here."

"You assume I've never lived in a cheap apartment?" He grinned and studied your face, got the feeling you were only half teasing. "I wanted to spend time with you, doesn't matter to me where that is." He nodded to himself briefly and then gave you a smile. "This is still new, we're still figuring it all out." He took an extra step closer, dropped a hand to your knee to turn you towards him so he could kiss you again. "Now you know that you are definitley my girlfriend," He gave you an encouraging smile and another kiss, "You also know you can spend as much time here as you want." He spoke the words a breath away from your lips, close enough that he could feel you smile, "Preferably a lot of time."

~~~~~~

You were making out with Michael.

You were sitting on the couch, making out with your boyfriend, Dr. Michael Robinavitch, when you were supposed to be doing homework.

It had started innocently enough. You had the night off and a paper due. Michael had told you to come over and work on it at his place. Which is how you ended up on the couch, your back to his chest while you typed away and he read through case notes on his tablet.

You couldn't remember for sure when his free hand had moved to your arm and his fingers had started to stroke absentlmindedly over your skin. At one point he had startled you, his voice low and so close to your ear as you typed, "That study came out in twenty two not twenty three."

"Are you reading over my shoulder?" You teased even as you pulled up another tab to verify the dates.

Michael just chuckled and kissed the back of your head, kept his lips there, "Sounds good so far." He pressed another kiss behind your ear. "Almost done?"

"Almost." You corrected the date you'd cited for the study. Michael had been correct. You bit back a grin, "It'd go faster if you quit doing that."

"Doing what?" He chuckled even as he kissed the spot again.

"Distracting me." You let yourself smile, but continued typing. Or rather tried to.

"When's it due again?"

You heard the thunk of the tablet as he set it down on the end table and then the lighter sound that must have been his glasses as he set them down on top of it. Then both his hands were on you. "Uh," You had to think for a minute, "Not until tomorrow night. Midnight."

"Hmm." Robby wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tighter to him, "Plenty of time."

"You're supposed to be an educator, should be a better influence than this." You griped, but you still hit save and closed your laptop.

"Oops." He chuckled as you settled back into him and let him take your laptop to move it aside.

You never turned around to face him, just let him hold you like he had been and tip your face towards his. HIs hands on you, but never inappapropriat, never pushing too far. Or maybe not pushing far enough, you couldn't decide. Eventually you started to fidget, "Michael…"

"Hmm?' Was his only response, other than a large hand settling on your hip to keep you still.

After another long, mind numbing kiss, you chuckled, "I don't even know."

Michael grinned, snuck a thumb under the hem of your shirt and stroked it over the warm, soft skin underneath, "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

You froze. That was new. Very new. Coming over and spending time with him, in his home, had become a common occurrence, but you'd never stayed the night.

"You sure?" Your voice was soft when you turned more to look him in the eye.

HIs thumb continued to stroke back and forth over your hip, "Up to you, sweetheart." His eyes locked on yours and held, face soft, hint of a grin fighting at the corner of his lips.

For a long moment you were torn. The idea of spending the night with Michael was terrifying and exhilerating. You two had been going slow, taking your time, this would be… new.

"Hey," Michaels voice was soft and his breath warm against your ear, "Not asking for anything, just…don't want you to leave just yet."

You chewed on your lip for a beat, "Work tomorrow?" When Robby shook his head his grin grew another fraction. "Trying to mess up my sleep schedule more than it already is?"

Robby chuckled, "Can stay up as late as you want." He pulled you back in to another, slower, softer kiss. "Maybe even sleep in."

Barely a whisper you added, "I didn't bring anything to sleep in."

HIs face split into the smile he'd been fighting back, "Even better." He laughed when you elbowed him, hard.

"You really are a terrible influence." You scowl at him over your shoulder, but you couldn't hold it long.

"Don't tell anyone." Michael tossed you a wink and reached to pull you back to him, his eyes locked on yours. HIs Adams apple bobbed as you leaned back into him and he settled his hands on your hips. Not guiding, not pulling, only holding. "Hey," He paused, like he hunted for the words, "It's alright," He paused to inhale deeply as you leaned into him, "Baby, it's alright if…"

You stopped him with a kiss, reached behind you with one hand to pull him to you, "It's alright if I want to stay?"

He smiled, smoothed his hands up your sides. "I'd like it if you did."

"If I stay will you let me finish my paper?" You looked back at him, eyebrow raised.

Michael seemed to consider, "Eventually." He kissed you again, and then let you get comfortable, sink back into him. His hands didn't stop though. His breath warm against your ear, his hands smoothed over your hips and your sides. "Maybe tomorrow."

Your brain had already checked out of any further, meaningful conversation. The only thing on your mind was that you were cuddling on the couch with Michael, making out with Michael, his hands on you, his beard brushing against the smooth skin of your neck. For the rest of the night you could stay like that, there on the couch in his arms if you wanted. Once again his thumb slipped under your shirt, smooth, repetitive strokes.

You could've stayed there as long as you wished, but you wanted more.

A little shocked by your own boldness you dropped your head back against his shoulder, eyes closed, as you smoothed a hand down his forearm. You settled your own hand over his and coaxed it further under your shirt. The satisfied hum, nearly a moan, slipped out as his heavy, warm hand spread wide over your stomach. His touch smoothed up and over your ribcage, his thumb within centimeters of your bra. The next sound you made was much closer to a proper moan and you could feel the way Michaels chest rumbled with a chuckle. "That feels good." You whispered as you felt his lips ghost across your neck.

"Yeah?" His tone matched yours as his left hand joined the other under your shirt. He pressed short kisses over the length of your neck. When you nodded, the kisses grew longer, wetter. "Good. I want you to feel good."

All you could do was nod.

"Want me to stop?" He slowed his movements.

"God no." Your eyes snapped open only to be met with his. Dark and shining with something, a grin on his face.

He brushed his nose a long your jaw before coming back for a kiss, "So, I can keep going then?"

You nodded and he slid his hands higher, the overwhelming heat of it forcing your eyes closed again.

"You want me to make you feel good?"

"Please."

His grip on you tightened with a tremor, his arms locked around you as his fingers dug in and Michael murmured out a strangled, breathless, "Fuck." Into your hair. He let out a long, unsteady breath and moved with a lazy purpose. One hand up and up, over a breast to slip easily into the cup of your bra to squeeze you. His thumb rolled over your nipple like he knew exactly where it would be, how much pressure to apply.

It makes your body react without your permission as you arch up into his touch. "Robby…God."

"Michael." He corrects you, words hot against your ear as his lips close over your earlobe and his grip on your breast tightens.

You whimper, your body rolls again and your own hands grab at his jean covered thighs on either side of you, "Fuck, sorry, Michael. Feels good."

"Good girl." The fingers of his other hand dipped, just barely, past the waistband of your own jeans, "Can I?"

There was no need to ask what it was he wanted, you had a pretty good idea, and besides that you would let Michael do just about anything he wanted to you at that moment. "Yes," Your hips pushed up into his touch, "Please."

His hold on you tightened, pushed you back so you were pressed against him completely again and Michael half chuckled half growled in your ear as he did it. "So sweet." His hand on your hip moved, joined the other, his fingers working together to undo the button and the zipper.

You couldn't help but watch, breath caught in your throat, as he slid his hand further. As it crept closer and closer to where you wanted it. No sound escaped you when his first finger found you so wet and warm, only a long studdering exhale as you let your eyes fall closed again.

Michael also kept silent, his attention focused entirely on where his hand disappeared into your pants. That same, singular finger stroked over you, the tip just barely dipping into your warmth with each stroke. Just when you thought you would have to say something, to ask for more, he gave you more. Like he had read your mind he dipped his middle finger in, one steady move, to the knuckle. His lips pressed to your temple and stayed there as he continued.

Before long he had established a pattern. His finger would sink in deep and then withdraw to circle around your clit. Once, twice and then back to tease you from the inside out. Over and over he did this, like nothing else existed in his world, until your hips had picked up the rhythym. WIth each sweep of his finger you couldn't help but lift your hips up to chase the sensation, then almost immediately grind back against him.

When the silence was finally broken it was with a rumbling chuckle, mostly a groan, Michaels breath hot against your ear, "Going to make me embarrass myself." His other hand settled heavy and firm on your hip, dragging your ass back against his erection and then trapping you there. He held you there with one hand while the other picked up the pace, the same pattern, the same motion, only quicker.

The sound his wrods and actions drug from you would be embarrassing if it hadn't made his own hips shift against yours. "Michael…"

"God," It game out as a whisper, but he sped up his hand, no longer teasing. Now he was chasing after something, "Never going to get tired of that." Then there was two fingers, faster, rougher, "Say it again, baby."

You did as he asked, whined out his name as he stoked the fire inside you.

"Say it again." He repeated himself.

"Michael, please." Like every strong, independent, feminist part of you lept out the window the only thing you wanted in that moment was for this man to make you cum. Now.

His hand moved faster,so borderline rough that you didn't have to move your hips. He was moving them for you. His touch shifting your hips under his fingertips as he focused all his attention on the swollen little bundle of nerves and ground his erection against you from behind, "Fuck baby, it's alright. It's alright, go ahead and let it go for me. Give it to me." Michael spoke, moaned, every word into your ear as his lips and teeth and tongue sucked and carresed and nipped at the sensivtive skin until your body seized up in his arms.

No more cute, needy little whines. You let out one, single, strangled gasp of his name as you came. Your head spinning and your entire body alight, like every nerve ending lit up at once.

Michael groaned, deep and louder than anything he'd let slip before. His arms bulged as they locked around you.

It took a moment, your brain barely functioning, for you to realize that Michael had cum with you.

"I'm sorry," He brushed his nose over the shell of your ear, chuckled at himself as he kissed over your neck.

WIth one limp arm you reached behind you to grab Michael by the back of his head and pull him to kiss you properly. "Oh baby, it's alright." You smiled into the kiss, a happy, satisfied little giggle escaping against his lips.

His fingers slipped back inside you and he cracked a scandalous smile when you trembled at the sensation. "We should go to bed."

When you whined, he chuckled again. Sleep was the last thing on your mind.

The fingers inside you swirled, curled, scissored as it to stretch you out and Michael whispered to you again, "Baby, I'm old, but I'm not that old." He nipped at your earlobe. "Nowhere near done with you yet."

~~~~~~

Chapter Four Coming Soon!

If you enjoyed this and haven't already checked out the rest of the connected stories you can find them here! -> Save Me From Myself

[yourqueenb]

Nightbound, Distant Shores, Immortal Desires, and With Every Heartbeat are the main ones

Widely disliked books poll

*Now we're talking books that get that HYPE. The fandom darling. Everybody stans. You think this book sucks (and probably didn't deserve more installments) and you feel like the only one when people call it god-tier

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Eight

Summary: Jungkook's feelings for you have grown immensely and he can't hold himself back from being honest anymore. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 2.6K~ (I know it's short but it was at a good stopping point and I couldn't figure out how to continue it without a big time skip/harsh break so yeah enjoy this mini chapter 😅) Warnings: No warnings just fluff a/n: Another almost four months and I only have a little bit for you 😔 I'm still trying to figure out how I want to go about finishing this story (yes it's close to the end) so please bear with me 😪 but either way I hope you enjoy!

Ever since I told him last month that I didn't want to be friends anymore and by default telling him that I wanted to be with him things have been different.

We've settled into a new routine with the tension between us no longer burning to the point I shy away but something that feels natural, domestic even. 

I guess you could say that's pretty obvious from the fact that we're living together but his subtle touches are welcomed and expected.

Things as simple as his hand on my lower back as he passes by or his arms wrapped around me from behind with his chin propped up on my shoulder or even a kiss on the forehead are all things that we've settled into and it makes me feel loved. 

Love is still a scary word for me to think about or even say aloud but it's something I feel towards him, deeply, hopelessly, painfully.

At times I remember that things could suddenly change without warning. That he could toss me out as soon as he gets fed up with waiting like Jared did. That he cou-. 

"Ow!" I cry out when he pinches my side, "What was that for?" I whine, the spot he abused already sore. "I've been calling your name for five minutes and you didn't respond so..." he chuckles and I hum, not having the energy to scold him further. 

He wraps his arms around my waist and props his chin on my shoulder just like I had been thinking about while spacing out, leaving me relaxing into him, the feeling of being in his arms taking away some of the anxiety that had started to build. 

"You okay?" he asks, placing a kiss on my cheek to which I hum again, nodding along with it. "You sure, because you've been stirring your coffee for the past seven minutes" he says, my hand stilling once he points it out. 

I take a drink of the completely cold beverage and sigh in defeat, realizing that his words are true. 

"I wanted it cold anyways" I mumble and turn to walk over to the freezer to add some ice, Jungkook letting go but still staying close. 

"Something's wrong" he says after observing me for another second or two, very used to reading my body language. "Nothing's wrong I'm just...tired" I reply and the truth is I am. 

"My internship has been kicking my ass and I don't know, I guess it's all starting to catch up to me" I relent and he takes a turn humming, knowing I'm not telling him the whole truth. 

"You know you can tell me anything right?" he says, coming closer and cradling my face in his hands, granting him a sad smile in return. 

"I know, but I promise I'm fine. It's just been a long week, that's all" he studies my features for a while and decides to take my word for it, seeing that I'm not ready to talk about it. He nods his head a tiny bit before leaning in and giving me a soft kiss on my lips, one that lasts but a moment before pulling away.

"You wanna watch something tonight?" he asks and I smile as my answer, making him chuckle. "I'll make the snacks if you wanna go choose" he offers and I nod, my face still cradled in his hands so he gives me one last kiss before letting go and leaving our source of entertainment up to me.

~~~~

As the movie we've already watched and fallen in love with plays Jungkook notices my absence even though I'm cuddled up next to him, my reactions being minimal to nonexistent.

The parts we always laugh at are met with the sounds of his enjoyment and not mine so he pauses it and waits for me to notice which I don't for a while leaving him even more worried. 

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours Bunny? Did I do something wrong?" he asks and I sit up, needing him to know that he hasn't.

"No, no you've been wonderful, better than I deserve honestly" I say, mumbling the last part but of course he hears it loud and clear.

"I'm good to you because I love you and you do deserve it, that's all" he admits so freely that I almost don't catch it.

"You...what?" I ask, almost too scared to breathe. "I love you" he says with a crooked smile, clearly enjoying my practically speechless state.

I sit there for a minute, stunned into silence, not having expected that at all but he just laughs. "What? You didn't think I loved you?" he asks, brushing a stray strand of hair off of my face, letting his fingers trail down my neck before withdrawing his hand.

"No...I mean maybe? Isn't it a little too early for I love you's?" I ask, tentative to say it after I had been burned by...

"I don't think so. I mean it might be forward but I've loved you for a long time and I've cared about you even longer. You're someone that has been a constant in my life for many many years and the fact that you've given me permission to hold you, kiss you...well it's something that I don't think I can hold back anymore" he confesses, making me feel as though my heart might explode. 

"I-" "You don't have to say anything. Take your time and only say it if you truly mean it Darling. I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for" he says, chancing caressing my face again and rubbing his thumb along my bottom lip. 

"Come here" he says and pulls me in, having me straddle him not for anything sexual but just for the need to hold me close. 

I burry my face in his neck and he rubs my back, knowing that I feel vulnerable since although he's not rushing me, I know he'll be waiting for an answer. 

"I'm scared" I mumble against his skin and he hums, understanding the situation honestly more than I wish he did.

He witnessed the ups and downs of the relationship between Jared and I and sat on the sidelines, knowing he could treat me better but caring about me too much to take away my right to make my own decisions and choose who I love even if it wasn't him. 

"Take your time Bun. You know I'll always be here for you, no matter how long it takes" he reassures me of what I knew, making me nod and wrap around him even tighter, taking his words as genuine but still terrified that this could all slip away at any moment. 

~~~~

A week goes by and I still haven't said it and it's killing me.

When he says goodbye he says it, whenever we've been intimate he says it, he even says it randomly just to try to make me smile but my mind won't truly let it sink in until I say it back.

"Baby?" he asks, knocking on my partially ajar door, seeing that I've been taking a little while longer to get out of bed this morning. 

I hum and let him come in, trying to assess the state I'm in before saying anything else as he comes and sits down on my side of the bed, looking down at me and placing his hand on my waist. I'm still laying down, not having made an effort to get up just yet which I know worries him as well but he doesn't push me too hard. 

"You not feeling well?" he asks, now going to check my temperature with the back of his hand but not noticing a fever of any sort making his theory very short lived.

"No, just tired" I say quietly, not having spoken a word since I woke up, my voice still raspy which I can tell he enjoys but doesn't comment on this time.

"You want me to make you something? It's already lunch time and you haven't eaten all day huh?" he asks, knowing the answer but still allowing me the chance to reply. "Yeah maybe something simple like a sandwich?" I request and he nods.

"Want me to get it from that sandwich place we love?" he suggests, rubbing small circles on my waist but I shake my head. "No I'm craving one of your sandwiches" I say making him smile, knowing one of his favorite forms of praise is compliments on his cooking. 

"Okay Bun, the usual?" he asks, knowing exactly what I want but asking just in case I'm feeling like something a little different today but I nod my head in approval making him lean down and place a kiss on my forehead before asking if I want him to bring it up here to which I decline. 

"I need to get out of bed at some point" I say and he shrugs, "You're allowed to have a lazy day every once in a while if you'd like. I could even come join you later on?" he proposes making me smile, in favor of his suggestion. 

"Can we take a nap after lunch?" I ask and he smirks a bit, testing the waters to see what I'm actually asking for. "Just a regular nap this time" I roll my eyes leaving him sighing dramatically before leaving, telling me he'll call me down when it's ready.

Once he's gone the doubt that has been plaguing my mind comes circling back.

'What if he's just saying that to take pity on me? What if he's saying it to rush me into something I'm not ready for? What if-' I groan, cutting off the spiral that I send myself down every time I'm alone and throw the blankets off before going into my bathroom and throwing cold water on my face, glaring at myself in the mirror, daring me to keep acting like this.

He loves me. He loves...me. Why am I so torn up about this? People say it all the time so it's not like it's the end of the world. It's just that...well next time I say it I want to mean it.

The next time I say it I want it to be real. 

I want to say it to the man that I'll promise to say it to forevermore. 

Call me a hopeless romantic all you want but if I'm going to trust someone with my heart again I don't want to regret it...

~~~~

"Here you go Bunny" he says and places my sandwich in front of me. "I love you" I mumble, softer than I've ever said anything before but it makes his movements stutter. 

"What was that Darling?" he asks, sitting down in the seat next to me at the table. "I um...I said 'Thank you'" I chicken out and although he wants to call me out on it he doesn't.

"You're welcome baby" he says, his smile a little brighter when he realizes that I'm trying, that I want to say it too but I just don't have the confidence yet. 

"Anything for you" he finishes and caresses my cheek before getting up and grabbing his plate along with our drinks. 

"You sure you're feeling alright?" he asks, my silence through lunch palpable since whenever he tries to start up a conversation I give him short answers that make his efforts die in his throat. 

"I've just been feeling a little funky that's all" I say and he hums, contemplating his next words which surprise me.

"I'm sorry" he says, defeated and honestly quite vulnerable. "Why are you apologizing?" I ask, not thinking that he would have done anything that would require something like that. 

"I knew you weren't ready and I rushed things but I wanted to be able to say what I felt for you because it was eating me alive. Having to cut off my sentences and not being able to speak my mind fully, holding you as close to my heart as possible but not being able to tell you that you had it in the palm of your hand already I just...I couldn't do it anymore" he says, his whole demeanor shifted into an almost sorrowful state that I can't hold it back anymore.

I can't keep hurting him like this when all I want to do is scream it for all to hear, even if the thought terrifies me.

"I love you" I say making his head pop up from it's drooped state, then feeling guilty and looking at his lap again as a result. "You don't have to say it just because I did. I just wanted to apologize because I know that that's was why you've been feeling so off lately" he says but I shake my head. 

"The thought of giving my heart to someone again scares the shit out of me. After...well after going through all of that the thought of opening myself up again was not something I wanted to do. I will admit I sought you out out of lust at first but as our friendship and eventual relationship began to grow I realized that I cared about you a whole lot more that I should" I say, me now with my head turned down, not being able to keep the intense eye contact he's giving me, hanging on every word. 

"I didn't know if you were doing these things for me because you felt sorry or because you truly cared. I know now that doubting your motives was honestly my own self doubt getting the best of me. You've done nothing but love and care for me since the beginning and I haven't let myself fully process the fact that I'm..." I cut myself off and take a deep breath.

"The fact that I'm falling in love with you" and although he said those words first the admission alone has me feeling as though he hadn't, as if he would change his mind now that I reciprocated his confession but he does anything but that, further confirming his true intentions for me as he pulls me closer. 

He doesn't pull me in with a carnal passion in mind, he doesn't even pull me in for a kiss, he pulls me in and holds me close, telling me wordlessly that he's proud of me. That he's proud of me for taking that step, for trusting him with my heart, my mind, soul, fully consumed by him without abandon.

"Thank you" he whispers, his face being buried in my hair making me laugh at the ticklish feeling. "Don't make it weird" I say and poke his side making him flinch and hold me tighter. "How can I not? The woman I love loves me back" he chuckles and when I try to pull back he squeezes me tighter. 

"Just let me have my moment" he huffs making me sigh and return his crushing embrace. "I love you" he says making me burry my face into his neck, mumbling it against his skin in return. 

"Nah nah nah, say it like you mean it" he says, pushing me back just enough so he can look at me. "But I do mean it!" I roll my eyes, playing into his pouty act. "Come on, say it!" he says, pushing me back and forth, making me sway. 

"I already said it, why do you need to hear it again?" I chuckle when his pout gets deeper. "Okay fine" I give in making his brows raise at my quick defeat. "I love you" I whisper in his ear and then run away, his hold on me having loosened from pure shock of my honesty, knowing now that I truly truly mean it. 

"Get back here!" he scolds once he's come back down to earth, the surprise replaced with determination, his intentions being to not let me go til sunrise.  

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[sweetkpopmusings]

stray kids soulmate aus | k. seungmin <3

a/n: these days i am QUITE the seungmin simp & it shows :,-) i had a lot of fun writing a very classic kpop fic meet-cute with this one ! if you need me, i'll be watching seungmin compilations <333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 1.9k | warnings: none really! | pairing: soulmate!seungmin x gn!reader | requests: open

♡ chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin ♡

on your 18th birthday, you receive a stack of sticky notes on which you can write to your soulmate. there is one note for every day leading up to when you meet.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you settled into your desk chair, eager to see what anecdote seungmin has chosen for you today. it was always a thrill to get a peek into his daily life, and it was especially entertaining when he removed context from the situation to make you laugh. over the years, he developed a knack for telling stories just the way you liked them. 

we went shopping today, in that area that always smells like ice cream cone batter. i bought a cool phone case. you better compliment me on it when we meet. i know it’s only ten days away, but i encourage you to put a reminder on your calendar, so you don’t forget to appreciate my taste in accessories. 

-yours, seungmin 

you scoffed. he was always extra sassy when he was excited about something. you tapped your pen against your desk, devising the perfect reply to seungmin’s daily update.

i promise i’ll tell you the phone case is cool, if and only if it actually is. we must be on the same wavelength because i went shopping today too (it didn’t smell like ice cream cone batter where i was though). i picked out new clothes for the day we meet, so you better compliment me on it as soon as you see me. should we make a joint calendar event since you’re quite forgetful?

-yours, y/n

not even 30 seconds passed when you saw seungmin’s handwriting appear near the bottom of the sticky note. you smiled, feeling his playful energy infect you.

like a wise person said, i’ll tell you the outfit is cool, if and only if it actually is. i’d love to make a joint calendar event, but we can’t share contact information yet, remember? i’ll have to trust you won’t forget the phone case…i guess that’s more important than remembering a basic rule about soulmates, so i’ll have faith in you :-) 

-yours, seungmin

with another roll of your eyes, you wrote your last message to seungmin for the night.

you test my patience, kim seungmin. get some rest now. i know you’re working hard on your comeback, so i’ll be rooting for you! 

-yours, y/n

you smiled at the tiny heart seungmin drew in the bottom corner of the page before you peeled the sticky note off the stack. electricity ran through you every time you noticed how much it shrank. soon, very soon, you would be teased by seungmin in person. you hoped that you’d deliver the perfect eye roll in response to his snarky comments, as a way to show him you truly loved him.

staring at the note, seungmin laughed at his desk, right when felix walked by.

“what’d y/n say?”

“none of your business.”

despite the nature of the retort, seungmin’s tone was lighthearted. felix laughed and left seungmin alone to place the completed sticky note in his not-so-secret box, where he kept every word you’ve ever exchanged safe from the rest of the world.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

hi soulmate~ let’s see if our tastes match. tell me your ideal meet-cute.

-yours, seungmin

you felt a blush on your skin at seungmin’s cute tone. you imagined he was feeling particularly sweet as your meeting was only three days away. you took your time mentally ranking the best meet-cutes you’d witnessed in books, movies, tv, and real life.

hi seungmin~ there are a lot of good ones, but i have to stick with the classic: locking eyes across a crowded room. what’s yours?

-yours, y/n

you stared at the note, eager to see whether seungmin had a romantic side after all. you laughed in disbelief when you read his answer.

wow, no “hi soulmate~”? rude :-( my favorite trope is spilling coffee on someone. i’d enjoy that as long as i’m not the one getting spilled on. let’s hope your outfit isn’t too cool!

-yours, seungmin

you imagined seungmin was laughing at his own joke, which balanced out his vague threat to spill coffee on you.

you’re such a menace :-( i’m about to revoke “soulmate” from your nicknames, as a matter of principle. 

-yours, y/n

seungmin, despite himself, blushed at the thought of you having different nicknames picked out for him. his heart fluttered, feeling extra sweet because of you.

i’m YOUR menace. see you soon! i’ll be the handsome man holding two coffees <3

-yours, seungmin 

you sighed, knowing there was a real chance he’d carry two coffees around that whole day. if there was one thing about seungmin, he’d commit to the bit. 

i’ll run away from you, and i hope you spill one of the coffees on yourself while you chase me. at least we’ll be matching <3

-yours, y/n

from miles away, you and seungmin laughed at the same time. similarly, you both played out different meet-cute scenarios for the rest of the night. seungmin would never admit this to you, but he’d love to see the excited look on your face if your chosen meet-cute was what fate had in store.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

though you returned home later than usual, you were still surprised to see the sticky note halfway filled up by the time you sat at your desk. 

my schedules start before sunrise tomorrow, so i have to go to bed early, like a grandpa. chan says this is a good time to go to bed…what else would we expect though? anyways, i’m sorry i won’t get to write back tonight. tell me about your day! i’ll read it as soon as i wake up. i promise. :-)

sleep well, and i’ll see you tomorrow~

-yours, seungmin

your heart sank a little at the fact you wouldn’t be able to interact directly with seungmin the night before the long-awaited day. however, the butterflies in your stomach reminded you that there was plenty to be excited about.

hi soulmate~ i’m jealous you’re sleeping so early. i was out late because i had to get everything ready before attending the live show recording tomorrow (i still can’t believe i won that ticket lottery!). i’m worried i won’t be able to sleep well from the excitement. 

don’t forget about my outfit! just look for the best-dressed person and you’ll find me :-)

i’ll be sending you the strength to get through your schedules! i can’t wait to see you tomorrow~

-yours, y/n

you smiled to yourself, feeling in your heart that seungmin would start his day off happy, as you finally gave him the greeting he’d been waiting for.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 

from the second he read your note, seungmin couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. everyone noticed the way he beamed, so it didn’t take long for them to put together that he’d be meeting you today. his members were painfully obvious about trying to catch a glimpse of you wherever they went. seungmin was in such a good mood that he didn’t even tease them that much. 

realizing that the live show recording was almost definitely where you’d meet, seungmin noticed that his palms were sweatier than normal. he shook them out, taking deep breaths to calm his heart rate. this may not have been the first stage for their new song, but it was the first stage you’d be at, so the stakes were high. 

despite the nerves from the night before, you were happily enjoying yourself at the show. of course, every performance was incredible, and the crowd was energetic. by the time there was only one act left, you felt your body start to grow tired. an adrenaline rush hit you full force, however, when you saw the name “stray kids” light up the stage.

jaw dropped, you were silent while the rest of the crowd screamed. your eyes raced to find seungmin. he was on the opposite end of the stage, giving you at least a chance at composing yourself before he saw your face. the music started, and you joined the crowd’s cheers. seungmin’s stage presence and vocals in person were breathtaking, and you felt a swell of pride knowing that your soulmate was so talented.

as though he could sense you were thinking of him, seungmin turned his head to the area where you stood. the second you locked eyes, seungmin grinned like an excited puppy. he waved to you, feeling giddy enough to make a heart with his hands. you matched his energy, smiling widely and bouncing from the magic of it all. there he was, just across the room, saying “hi” to you and only you.

per the instructions seungmin mouthed from the stage, you waited in your seat for a bit until a staff member brought you backstage. despite the recording being done, the halls were crowded with bustling employees and idols alike. all of the noise was drowned out by someone calling your name.

“hey y/n! i like your outfit!”

you turned around, seeing seungmin waving again. he beamed, and you rushed over to him. 

“you remembered!”

seungmin laughed at your excitement, “i did forget my coffee though. it looks like your meet-cute won in the end.”

his eyes twinkled as he looked at you. rather than feeling nervous, you two chattered endlessly. you giggled at the way seungmin blushed when you complimented his performance. in turn, seungmin giggled at the way you blushed when he called you pretty. being able to have a conversation that exceeded the character limit of a sticky note left both of you with the zoomies, much to the entertainment of seungmin’s eavesdropping members. 

“seungmin!” hyunjin yelled from a suspiciously nearby spot, “we have to leave soon!” hyunjin waved at you, “hi y/n!”

you waved back, and seungmin told you to ignore hyunjin, which made you laugh. as you exchanged contact information, you kept your promise and examined seungmin’s phone case.

“i like your phone case, seungmin! it matches your style perfectly,” you pointed at the object in his hand.

“thank you!” seungmin grinned for the umpteenth time that day, proudly holding the phone out for you to see, “this is the best part, if you ask me.”

you were surprised to see a sticky note in the back of his phone case. you leaned closer to examine it, and you felt a wave of fondness wash over you. in his hand, seungmin held one of your earliest sticky notes. on it, you had drawn a picture of what you thought seungmin looked like, purely based on how he wrote. you were way off, which you learned once you saw a picture of him online. it did accurately capture seungmin’s personality, though, so seungmin was quite proud of your artistry. 

“it’s a one-of-a-kind drawing, so i wanted to show it off.”

seungmin’s tone was teasing, but you could feel the compliment, “you’re so sweet, seungmin! maybe i should have a matching one?”

he nodded, “i better see the portrait i drew of you in your phone case next time i see you.”

you laughed, “understood! i feel chan staring at us, so you should get going. call me when you get home?”

“of course!” seungmin smiled, “promise me one more thing?”

“hmm,” you feigned deep thought, “it depends on what it is.”

“next time you come to watch us perform, sit by my side of the stage.”

“only if i can see lee know too.”

seungmin glared at you momentarily, breaking into a laugh because he was so endeared by the pout you gave in response. after you said your goodbyes, you watched seungmin bound down the hall to meet his members. before he went around the corner, he turned to wave to you again, mouthing goodbye, soulmate!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[kp-alice]

Red Light, No Entry | Maknae line

Summary: sub!Ateez scenarios about you/them stopping a scene

Word count: 7 838

Warnings: written at the beginning of each member's scenario, other than that just general awkwardness and misunderstandings

A/N: This post is the sixth and last part of my Kinktober 2024 series! You can find the masterlist for it here.

A/N 2: Since the fic got quite long, I split it into two parts - you can find the hyung line here!

San (choking, very mild fighting and manhandling at the beginning)

It all began with a small, harmless fight. You and San were making dinner, and your boyfriend apparently decided that was a good time to tease you for entertainment. First, it began with small pokes and prods to your sides as you worked, distracting you from the vegetables you were chopping. You were quick to reprimand him, and with the knife you were currently wielding in your hand, San was easily convinced to calm back down.

...For like two minutes.

Since he was now banned from touching you, San resorted to playfully holding things out of reach, going as far as to hold them up above your head, giggling when you struggled to grab them.

At first, you just huffed in annoyance, resorting to a small jump to quickly snatch the seasoning packet from him before he could try anything else. The second time, he got a stern, low warning as you stirred the pot in front of you, side-eyeing him until he put the salt back down.

The third time, though, you were fed up.

"San, I told you not to-" you growled frustratedly, pulling him to you by whatever you could latch onto first. And, well, since you were already about to reach up to grab the item he was holding, your hand naturally landed on his neck.

You were about to continue your scolding, but the sudden lowering of his arm made you pause. Your eyes fell down to his, seeing them widen and gloss over.

"He-" San began, only to gulp dryly, forcing him to quietly clear his throat, "here."

To your utter shock, he handed you the soy sauce himself, the faintest of tremors running through his wrist.

"Oh, um- thank you?" You said, confused, putting the soy sauce down on the counter. You were worried at first, thinking you'd hurt or scared him somehow and he wanted to escape the situation, but something about his demeanor told you this was different. Your hand was still wrapped around his neck, though now considerably looser, wrist resting on his collarbones. "That was easier than I thought. What made you change your mind so quick, hm?"

You watched in real time as San's face turned red, unprepared for your sudden curiosity. "No-nothing! Really, it's fine!"

Silence stretched on between the two of you as you assessed him, looking deep into his eyes to find the truth.

"Is that so?" You finally asked, a small smile on your lips. You weren't totally sure about your read of the situation, but considering San's pliant state, you decided to try and guess anyway.

Before he knew it, the relaxed fingers grazing his neck sprang to life, re-wrapping around him with gentle pressure. It was more symbolic than anything, and yet the gesture made him gasp out loud, eyes widening.

"So it definitely wasn't because of this, right?" You sarcastically pressed on, chuckling as he struggled to compose himself. "Nothing about me holding you like this is bothering you at all, I'm sure."

"Don't," San muttered shyly, turning meek at your sudden interest.

He was both relieved and disappointed when you actually did let up, releasing your hold on him. Your hand slid down his chest before lifting off completely as you turned around again, facing the stove.

"Alright, alright, I'll spare you for now," you relented softly, giving him a quick, warm smile before checking how the food was coming along.

Leaving San to stand there, awkwardly shifting in his spot with a very confusing hard-on and lots to ponder on his own later.

Ever since that evening, San's attitude had changed. He grew quieter around you, often lost in his own thoughts while he blankly stared in your direction. Well, in the direction of your hands, more like. You suspected that it was because of what had happened earlier, but decided not to comment on it for now. Whatever it was, San would tell you when he was ready.

Except San didn't tell you. Or, well, he did, just not in the way you were expecting.

It was now the third day since the... incident, and the two of you found yourself in a rather familiar scenario. What was supposed to be a nice movie night turned into something else entirely not even halfway through, leaving you naked on the couch, riding your equally as naked boyfriend.

"Fuck, don't stop, please don't stop," San whined, gripping your hips as you ground down in his lap. Despite his hold on you, he made no effort to move you himself, letting you set the pace instead. Not that you needed any help anyway, doing just fine with your hands planted on his shoulders and thigh muscles working overtime.

"Oh don't worry, baby," you panted, slowing down to a more stable but purposeful tempo, "we're just getting started."

San groaned at your words, squeezing your flesh in his hands as his head rolled back.

You didn't even think about your next action, doing it out of pure instinct at this point in your relationship. With the slower pace, you could afford to let go of one of his shoulders, slithering up to cup his nape instead. You'd done this countless times before, loving the comfort your caress could bring to the man under you.

This time, however, a new spark ignited in San's eyes.

Just as you had automatically reached up to hold him, San didn't think twice about grabbing your wrist and moving it to the front. He hadn't planned it in advance, but now that he saw the opportunity, he craved the same rush he'd gotten those few days ago.

The effect was immediate. You watched as San's hooded eyes closed momentarily, trying not to roll back from the thrill of your possessive grasp on him.

Feeling a bit daring yourself, you secured your grip even further and gave him a quick, gentle squeeze.

San's eyes blew open at the action, looking at you in shock. A loud groan left him right after, squeezing you closer to his chest as his hips rolled up into yours.

"A-again," he begged, a hint of urgency to his voice.

You excitedly obliged, giving his throat another quick, soft squeeze. The clear arousal in your lover's eyes made your thighs clench together, loving to watch him lose himself to you.

"Fuck, please!" San whined, trying his best not to hold you too tight or dig his nails too harshly into your skin out of pure adrenaline. "Harder, do it harder!"

That, however, made you pause.

Unsure of how much he meant exactly, you willed yourself to squeeze his neck with just a tiny bit more force, carefully watching for any signs of discomfort.

But San just shook his head, panting as he looked deep into your eyes.

"I said harder," he repeated, though it sounded more desperate than commanding.

"How hard, San?" You asked, beginning to feel a bit skeptical. Your movements had almost halted by now, resorting to slow grinds until you figured everything out.

But that just seemed to frustrate San even further, feeling the high he was nearing begin slipping away.

"As much as you want, please. And longer, squeeze longer," San explained in a rush, pressing his neck harder into your hand since your grip was starting to falter. "I want you to choke me, Y/N, please."

"San..." You trailed off, unsure. Even if you hadn't been thrust into this conversation in the middle of sex, you would have been pretty hesitant. Sure, the possessiveness of holding San by the neck felt nice, powerful even, but you didn't want to actually harm him in any way. And despite the different guides on how to "safely" choke someone, you knew there really was no actual safe way to do it.

"It's okay, I'm fine, just-"

"But I'm not fine with it, babe," you said as gently as you could, slipping your hand away from his throat.

San blinked at you in confusion, unsure of what to say. "What- what do you mean?"

You chuckled at his puzzled expression, running a hand through his hair to help him settle down. "I'm saying that I'm not going to choke you, love. I'm sorry if that's something you really wanted, but I don't want to accidentally hurt your throat by grabbing you wrong. Not to mention that even if I do it right, I'd still be cutting off your oxygen and that's just all around not good."

"But," San muttered, a small pout forming on his lips, "if it's just for a few seconds, then it's the same as holding your breath, no?"

"Sure," you conceded, "and you can hold your breath as much as you want, but not during sex and not by my hand. I'm not risking your health or safety."

Looking down, San mulled over your words. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed. "No, you're right. I shouldn't have put that pressure on you, sorry."

Smiling, you leaned down to give your pouty boyfriend a quick peck. "It's okay hun, don't worry. And thank you for respecting my boundaries."

"Of course!" San retorted much more energetically, brows furrowed indignantly at you even thinking he wouldn't. But then, his face morphed into something much more soft and nervous. Shy.

"...Would you still be okay with just holding my neck, though?" He asked in almost a whisper, blood rushing to his cheeks. "Not hard or anything, obviously! Whatever you feel comfortable with is fine, you don't even have to do it at all if-"

"I'd be happy to, babe," you grinned, eliciting a small, surprised "Oh?" in return. The pout on San's face quickly spread into a coy smile as your hand returned to his chest, trailing alongside his collarbones before snaking around his throat again. Your touch was light, but it was there nevertheless. Immediately, you could hear his breath hitch at the feeling, making your own core react to the sound.

"...Is this really okay?" He tentatively asked, just to be sure.

Wanting to lighten the mood again, you gave your boyfriend a quick, tiny squeeze, watching him go boneless under you. "It's more than okay, don't worry. Just lay back and let me take care of my baby, alright?"

San hummed at your words, smiling contently as his hands rubbed your sides in anticipation.

"Of course. Anything for you."

Mingi (fingering, indirect peer pressure, allusion to pegging at the end)

It's no secret that Mingi likes to be seen. He loves your attention and praise, loves when you cherish him with all you have. And he tries to give as much of that energy back, showing you how good you're making him feel, begging for more, doing whatever you want him to do just to please you.

But Mingi is also one to sway under pressure, even if not necessarily directed at him, which is why the sudden topic change at the bar the other night got under his skin a bit more than he'd like to admit.

For the first time in a long while, all of his hometown friends had free time to hang out. Naturally, they went to a nearby bar for a small reunion. Before he knew it, they were all four shots deep into an unofficial drinking contest, trying to see who could last the longest. But with the shared drunkenness came some unexpected, otherwise undiscussed topics.

"I'm telling you, until you try fucking standing up, you can't say anything bad about it!"

"They say the same shit about fucking in the shower, and in the end it's even worse than missionary!"

"Fuck off, nothing's worse than missionary! That's like the most basic shit you can do!"

Already, Mingi wasn't planning on adding much to the discussion since your sex life and dynamic in general weren't exactly something his friends would deem "conventional", but those comments made him shut off even further. What do they mean, "nothing's worse than missionary"? That's literally the go-to position for the two of you, regardless of who's on the top or bottom. Well, Mingi certainly likes it a lot. But, you do too, right? Or were you possibly bored of it as well, just like his friends seemed to be?

Trying to push those thoughts aside for now, Mingi did his best to enjoy the rest of his evening unbothered. It didn't really work, but that's only for him to know and mope about afterward.

When Mingi had returned from the bar, he was considerably more sober, save for the slight tint clinging to his neck and ears.

The whole taxi ride home, he was deep in thought. Trying to come up with the best way to ask you about your preferences, he just barely noticed the taxi driver pulling up in front of your apartment complex. He pulled himself out of his daze for the few seconds it took for him to pay and get out, but then it was right back to thinking.

In the end, he decided to be direct about it, knowing it would probably be more awkward to beat around the bush and make you guess what he was getting at.

Just breathe in and out, in and out. He could do this, there was no reason to be scared of asking you and no need to be shy about it.

...is what he'd thought until the door swung open to reveal you, excited and unassuming as you led him inside with a big smile. Within seconds, all of Mingi's bravery had vanished, leaving him to awkwardly trail after you while he inwardly cursed himself.

Well, fuck. Maybe next time. Surely.

But the opportunities to speak up just kept coming and going, and Mingi still hadn't mustered up the courage to voice his insecurities. No matter how much he screamed at himself to just say something, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Not until the next night, when Mingi had yet again found himself under you, a position all too familiar to the two of you. Splayed on the bed, he squirmed on your fingers as you prepared him for the next step.

You were two fingers deep already, about to put in a third one, when Mingi's hand suddenly found your wrist, gently stopping your movements.

"Wait," he spoke suddenly, clearly surprising himself with his own voice judging by the sudden tension in his body.

"What is it, bunny?" You asked softly, checking for any signs of pain or distress. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head, avoiding your gaze as he replied: "No, nothing's wrong, I was just wondering... Would you be okay with trying something different tonight?"

That sentence made you fully pause, carefully withdrawing your fingers from him and setting his leg in your other hand back down on the bed. "Oh, of course, sure! Yeah. What do you want to do?"

Mingi winced at the emptiness following the removal of your fingers, the sudden stop to all your touches feeling a bit jarring. Nevertheless, he forced himself to speak, knowing you were waiting and probably worried. "I- I mean, this, still, pretty much, just- can you, like, maybe- could we- you know, from, uh, from behind?"

After a small pause, you began to laugh, much to Mingi's mortification.

"You- you mean, like, if I can fuck you from behind?" You asked between breaths, looking at your horribly red boyfriend with nothing but amused adoration.

"Yeah, pretty much. Just would have preferred to word it a bit differently," Mingi huffed, embarrassed from how everything had flipped against him within seconds.

"Aw, I'm sorry," you apologized softly, though the grin on your face didn't make you seem that remorseful. "But yeah, sure, I'd love to make love to my sweet giant from behind."

"That's even worse!" Mingi cried out, covering his face in horror.

"Just turn around!" You exclaimed back, laughing.

Despite his entire face and chest turning a blaring shade of red, Mingi gingerly obliged. Rolling onto his stomach, he awkwardly pulled his knees up. After a few seconds, he had finally settled, this time with his ass in the air and facing the headboard instead of you.

"Ready?" You asked warmly, taking in the sight before you. Usually, you loved being able to watch your boyfriend fall apart under you, but this view was undeniably beautiful as well.

"I think so?" Mingi replied, wiggling in place as if trying to gauge the situation. "Feels a bit weird on my knees, though."

"Ah, don't worry about that. You just need to-"

Letting your actions speak for you, you nudged his thighs further apart, spreading his weight more evenly between them. You could hear Mingi's breath hitch at the action, surprised by the sudden manhandling.

And the surprises didn't end there, it seemed. With every other touch, Mingi would jolt just the slightest bit, clenching down around your fingers as you tried to finish prepping him. After a particularly big jump when your free hand rubbed his side, however, you decided to just withdraw your hand altogether, only moving the one inside him. With the way he kept tightening around you from surprise, you would never get him where you wanted him otherwise.

Despite the vague sinking feeling in his chest at your lack of touches, Mingi didn't say anything. Instead, he began drifting away into his mind, trying to decipher how he was currently feeling.

The change of position was... confusing, to say the least.

From what he'd heard, this was supposed to make everything feel more primal, more intense and rough. But to Mingi, everything just felt disconnected and unnecessary. If he wanted you to be rougher, he could just ask and you'd adjust accordingly, no matter the position. And what could possibly be more intense than looking into your partner's eyes while one is literally inside of the other? And as for how primal and instinctual this was supposed to feel, it sure made Mingi think a lot more than he usually would. Speaking of which, he really-

"...Mingi?"

The sudden call of his name broke him out of his daze, making him lift his head up from the pillows to look at you.

"...Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" You asked softly, letting your free hand rest on his lower back. Now that he was watching your movements, he shouldn't startle as easily as before. "You got really quiet all of a sudden, so I just wanted to check. Do you want to turn around again?"

"What? No," Mingi dismissed the suggestion, but the waver in his voice didn't sound very convincing. "O-or, I mean, just for a little bit, maybe?"

You sighed, giving him a small, tired smile before helping him lie down on his back again. "Alright, so what's all this about?"

Mingi shrugged, subconsciously biting at his lip. "I don't know. I just, you know, felt like trying something new?"

"And what made you want to try in the first place?" You pressed on, knowing Mingi wasn't one to change his ways unless something else pushed him into it.

Silence stretched between the two of you, Mingi avoiding your eyes as he tried to form his response.

"...Promise you won't laugh?"

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his words, making your gaze soften even more. "Of course I won't. I'm sorry if me laughing before upset you, but really, you can tell me anything. I promise I won't judge."

Mingi nodded at your words, steeling himself for his well-overdue explanation.

"It's, well... It's because of the guys. Later on at the bar, the topic of sex and different positions and whatnot came up and they all agreed on how lame missionary is. And don't get me wrong, I love being able to see you! It just made me wonder if I was maybe holding you back a bit since my preferences are pretty simple, so I thought we could try and see. I know I should have said this in advance, but I just couldn't find it in myself to do so. I'm sorry for ruining tonight, but it just doesn't feel right to keep going like that."

"Mingi..." You murmured softly, reaching up to cup your boyfriend's cheek. "I get that it must have felt awful to hear everyone indirectly shame you for what you like, but trust me, if I was ever unhappy with what we do in the bedroom, I'd tell you immediately. What does it matter if your friends think we're too basic? If we like it, we like it and that's that. Unless there's something you personally want to try, there's no reason to force anything just to 'spice things up'."

"...So you don't mind doing it like this?" Mingi asked hesitantly, vaguely gesturing at the two of you.

"Mingi," you said with a small chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief. "Not only do I not mind things the way they are, I love it."

His breath hitched as you leaned down to loom over him, using your other hand that wasn't holding his cheek to grab his waist. Smirking, you continued: "I love seeing you under me like this, so pliant and vulnerable just for me. I love watching your legs open and make room for me so that I can take care of you. And just as much, if not more, I love pulling them apart myself, holding you just the way I want and watching you squirm on my-"

"For the love of God please fuck me right this second or I'm gonna go insane," Mingi begged in a strained voice, practically writhing under you from the intensity of your gaze and tone.

Just as expected, it only took a few words of horny reassurance to get your attention-loving boyfriend back on track.

"As you wish, princess," you said teasingly, pressing one quick kiss to his lips before pulling back. "Is this position okay with you, or are you still worried about other people's opinions over mine?"

"Fuck them," Mingi said bluntly, desperately. "And most importantly fuck me, please!"

You laughed out loud at his demand, but quickly got back into the usual headspace. Gripping the backs of his knees, you basically folded him in half, making him gasp at the slight strain before he got the message and held his legs up for you. Smiling appreciatively, you pecked both of his knees before finally lining up with his entrance.

"Hold on tight, baby."

Wooyoung (awkward dirty talk, degradation, hair-pulling, manhandling, slapping, a few tears)

Wooyoung had always thought he was into degradation.

Now, to his defense, he definitely is to some degree! The two of you have long figured out it excites him whenever you're just a tad mean to him, whether that means pushing him around a bit, ordering him to do things for you just because you don't feel like doing them yourself, or any other sort of mild, loving bullying.

And so, naturally, Wooyoung thought it would be a great idea to apply this to the bedroom as well. How could this go wrong? If he popped a boner whenever you talked down to him outside of sex, it was only logical to bring it there as well.

Soon after his genius realization, Wooyoung began thinking - or scheming, to be exact. Whenever he had the time and was in the right mood, he'd curl up with his phone and continue his ongoing research. Filing through countless BDSM forums and reading up on other people's experiences with the kink, he couldn't help but get aroused himself. As it turns out, humanity has figured out countless ways to degrade someone, but what stood out the most to Wooyoung were two things: slapping and name-calling. The more he read stories about subs getting humbled by their doms, the more he couldn't get the image of the two of you out of his head. He could imagine it so clearly, with you catching him misbehaving once again, but unlike all the other times when you'd just punish him by restraining him or dictating how and when he could cum, you'd decide to belittle him instead. You'd throw him to the floor with your hand tangled in his hair, make him kneel before you and keep his head low as you told him exactly what you thought of him. And when he'd still refuse to listen, that's when you'd finally get physical.

Ugh, just the thought of it was getting him hard again. The sooner he talks to you about this, the better.

It only took a few days for Wooyoung to muster up enough courage to sit you down after dinner, leaning against your thigh as he tried to propose the idea as confidently as he could.

Most of that confidence faded, however, as you began to voice your concerns about the suggestion.

"Woo, baby, are you sure?" You asked uneasily, moving to hold the hand resting on your thigh. "I know I tease you a lot outside of the bedroom, but it's a lot more vulnerable inside it. I don't want to actually hurt you on accident, be it verbally or physically."

"Oh don't worry babe, it's gonna be fine!" Wooyoung tried to reassure you with a foxy smile, rubbing your thigh as he spoke. "Besides, you already rough me up during sex enough as is, a slap or two won't break me."

You sighed, tightening your grip on his hand to stop it from wandering any further. "I know, babe, but all of that just feels... different, I don't know. It's one thing to throw you around and make your dick hurt from overstimulation, but to just slap you out of nowhere feels like hurting you for no reason. I like forcing you back in line when you misbehave, but there are many other ways of doing that than by hitting you."

Growing frustrated at your unnecessary cautiousness, Wooyoung let out a petulant whine. "Baby I'm telling you, it's gonna be fine! Just try to take a risk for once and trust me, please? The second either of us gets uncomfortable we'll stop immediately, I promise."

Silence stretched between the two of you as you mulled over his words, only to concede in the end, much to Wooyoung's excitement. He made sure to let you know just how much he appreciated this and how safe this was all going to be one more time before finally delving into the fantasy that had been brewing in his mind in more detail.

...

"I leave you alone for two hours, and this is what I come back to?!" You yelled incredulously at your boyfriend, who was currently spread out on the bed, hard dick in hand and stark naked.

"I-I'm sorry babe, I didn't know you would be back so early- ah!" He yelped as you gripped his hair and tugged back, forcing him to look at you.

"That is not the issue and you know it," you growled, looking into Wooyoung's eyes for any signs of guilt or remorse, only to come out empty-handed and even angrier. "You only have so many rules to remember, one would think even a dumb slut like you could abide by them while I'm gone."

Wooyoung groaned at your words, his free hand coming up to try and ease your grip on his hair, but to no avail. "I'm not."

"You're not what?" You spat back before slapping away his other hand that was still wrapped around his erection.

"I'm not a slut," he opposed indignantly, throwing you a defiant look. "And I'm not dumb. I just had to take matters into my own hands since you've been ignoring me all day."

The four seconds of silence felt like an eternity as you looked deep into his eyes, making him subconsciously shrink in on himself.

Next thing he knew, he was whimpering as his body hit the ground, the pull on his hair just strong enough to bring tears to his eyes. You didn't give him a moment of reprieve, tugging him to his knees and forcing him to look up at you again.

"So you're not a slut, huh?" You gritted through your clenched teeth, leaning down until you were mere millimeters away from his face. "Then tell me, my honey dearest," you continued, your tone turning sickly sweet as you pulled away from him again, "why you would go out of your way to touch yourself without my permission like some- like some pussy-starved whore?"

And there it was. Resonating through the bedroom, the slap landed right on his left cheek, throwing his head to the side. It stung more than he'd thought it would, in more ways than one. Before he knew it, the tears in his eyes started spilling over, far too quickly for him to try to stop them. He pressed his lips together as heat quickly spread through his cheeks, both from the impact and from the shame washing over him.

This clearly wasn't working for Wooyoung the way he expected it to.

A gentle hand cupped his right cheek, gingerly turning his head back. He silently complied, only to be met with the sight of you kneeling in front of him, your own eyes wide and teary as you worriedly examined his face. He could feel your hands trembling slightly, only adding to the growing pit in his stomach. He made you do this. He made you feel awful for his own fuck-up.

"Wooyoung? Wooyoungie, are you okay? I'm so, so sorry," you fretted over him frantically, caressing his stinging cheek as carefully as you could. "I hit you too hard, didn't I? I'm so sorry. Please don't cry, does it hurt a lot? Do you need ice?"

Wooyoung shook his head at your panicked questions, taking hold of your wrists before pulling them away from his face. "It's okay, I'm- I'm fine," he choked out, clearing his throat as he blinked any remaining tears away. "You didn't do anything wrong, I asked you to do this. I should be the one that's sorry, and I really am."

"Please don't apologize, babe," you insisted. "I shouldn't have hit you as hard as I did, it's my fault. Come on, let's get up and put some ice on it just in case, okay? Then we can talk about this."

Which is how Wooyoung finds himself here, sitting butt-naked by the kitchen island in nothing but a loose shirt, holding a slowly thawing bag of frozen vegetables to his cheek while you clean up in the bedroom. A few minutes later, he hears the unmistakable sound of feet pitter-pattering against the apartment's linoleum, causing his heartbeat to stutter as he braces himself for the impending conversation.

"So," you begin resolutely, taking a seat on the bar stool next to his, "that didn't work out."

Wooyoung lets out a humorless chuckle at your comment, nodding his head dazedly. "Yup."

When he doesn't elaborate, you prod further. "Hun, you don't have to talk about this yet if you don't want to, but what was it that made you cry? I definitely overdid it with the slap, but a lot was happening at once so I just want to make sure I know what we should avoid next time."

Wooyoung sighs before finally turning to you. "Honestly, it was a bit of everything, I guess." He smiles at you sadly, pulling your hand to rest in his lap. "The manhandling, the things you said and the names you called me, the slap itself, all of it just combined so badly and made me feel inferior, and not in a sexy way."

"I thought you liked that though?" You somehow manage to question in a way that doesn't come off as accusing, just genuinely curious. "Was it just too much this time? Did I do it wrong somehow?"

Shaking his head, Wooyoung huffs out a small sound of disagreement. His free hand absentmindedly plays with your fingers in his lap. "No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. It's just..."

"It's just?" You try to encourage him, stopping his fidgeting by interlocking your hand with his.

With another disappointed sigh leaving his lips, Wooyoung finally caves. "It's just that you were right. You know, before, when I brought this whole thing up to you like an idiot and pushed you into doing it despite your qualms with it. Just because something is hot outside of the bedroom doesn't mean it will feel the same way when you actually get that much more intimate and vulnerable. I didn't believe you at first but now I know. I'm sorry."

Groaning, you jump down from the bar stool you were sitting on to get even closer to your boyfriend. "Babe please, stop apologizing, it's not your fault", you complain as you pull him into a hug. "You didn't push me into anything, I would have said no if I was genuinely uncomfortable with the idea. So let's just stop blaming ourselves, okay? We both messed up in different ways tonight, but it's okay. We stopped when we needed to and now we're talking it out. That's all that matters."

Turning on the stool to face you directly, Wooyoung dives into the crook of your neck, making sure not to touch you with the cheek he was just icing. You feel him nod into your skin before relaxing against you as your hand starts playing with his hair.

"...So does this mean you're still okay with being a bit mean to me outside of the bedroom?"

You huff out a chuckle, making Wooyoung laugh quietly as well.

"If that's what your heart desires, then gladly."

Jongho (bondage, a mild-ish panic attack - crying, being unable to breathe)

When it came to your and Jongho's intimate life, you wanted to take things slow.

Now, it's not like sex was a completely foreign concept in your relationship - you'd already crossed that line a few months ago. You asking Jongho to sub for you, however, introduced a pretty new dynamic to him. Until now, everything that went down in your bedroom was mostly vanilla and with no real power dynamics, so this came as quite a surprise. He decided to indulge, you, though, undeniably intrigued himself.

And what do you know, Jongho ended up really enjoying it! So much so, in fact, that it was now he who would ask you to explore your dominant side more, to tell him what to do and how to do it.

As time passed and the two of you got more comfortable in your roles, it was as if a whole new world of possibilities had suddenly opened up for you. There was so much to try out with him, on him, that you could barely contain your excitement.

But alas, you wanted to take things slow, both to preserve the thrill as long as possible and to not overwhelm either of you with anything.

Starting out with the basics, like some slightly rougher touches, hair pulling, and dirty talk, Jongho was surprised to find himself eagerly on board with everything. This then led you to the next thing you desperately wanted to try: bondage.

At this suggestion, Jongho was a bit more apprehensive. He'd always liked his personal space and freedom of movement, so to have that taken away from him sounded a bit scary, even if it was you doing it.

Nevertheless, and especially after seeing your excited face as you waited for his response, he agreed.

"Everything okay? Try pulling on it a bit, does it hurt?" You asked your blushing boyfriend, watching as he gingerly pulled at the rope tied around his wrist. He was lying on his back below you, dressed in nothing but his boxers while you sat on his chest to work on restraining him.

"It's- it's fine, I think," Jongho muttered with bated breath, letting you carefully examine the rope before moving on to his other arm. Already, the way you were sitting on his chest while tying his hands felt a bit claustrophobic, but he just chalked it up to the anxiety of trying out new things. It wasn't unusual for him to get nervous when experimenting with you, so it really shouldn't be a big deal now.

The moment you picked up his other hand, though, Jongho's breath stuttered. With his remaining free hand in your hold, he began to feel truly powerless. Chewing on his bottom lip, he watched as you wrapped the rope around the headboard before connecting it to his wrist, trying to keep his focus on the pretty blue color of the material to ease his growing worry.

"Okay, now try this one," you spoke, eyes flitting to Jongho's wide, precious eyes. "Good?"

Jongho did as told, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to pull his wrist free but couldn't. His already loud heart started beating even faster as a strange feeling pressed against his lungs. Despite this, he nodded anyway, eyes avoiding your gaze as he spoke: "Yeah, 's good."

You smiled, shuffling down his chest to rest against his hips. "Alright then," you whispered, "you ready?"

Against all better judgment, Jongho confidently nodded his head, determined to enjoy himself tonight. He could already feel the need to touch you whining at him from the inside, desperate to hold you to ground himself, but he promptly ignored it. After all, that's supposed to be the point of this, isn't it? To restrict your frustrated and needy sub and give them only what you deem they've earned.

Smoothing your hands over his chest, Jongho moaned, eagerly arching into your touch to try to get out of his anxious mind. You only chuckled at his responsiveness, leaning forward to pepper kisses everywhere your hands just traveled. Trailing your nails over his pecs, you stopped at his nipples, teasingly circling around the buds before giving them a quick pinch.

Jongho let out a weak whine at the sensation, making the headboard creak above him as he tugged at the ropes. The sound made you smirk, telling you just how much your actions were affecting your boyfriend without even having to look up.

Perhaps you should have, though, as Jongho's nervous but sure facade quickly began to crumble. His hands kept grabbing at nothing, frustration bubbling up in him as you were so close and he needed to touch you so bad, and yet he just couldn't. He knew he could trust you with his life, that you wouldn't harm him in any way, yet he couldn't help but feel trapped. Like this, with no way to ground himself through touch, everything felt so much more intense, so chaotic and out of his control, and not in a good way.

"You're being such a good boy for me Jongie," you cooed after a while of playing with his chest, both of his nipples now red and sensitive. Looking into his glossy eyes, you leaned down to trap his lips in a passionate kiss, which he meekly returned a moment later. You swallowed each rugged breath and whine coming from his mouth as your hands started trailing down, one stopping to massage his waist while the other kept lowering. You moved to sit a bit lower again, this time on his thighs, making more room for your next ministrations. Eyes still closed while you kept kissing him, you relied on your memory and touch to guide you down to the hem of his underwear.

When your fingertips finally grazed the fabric of his boxers, you couldn't help but smile into the kiss, your grin growing even wider as you heard the wooden headboard groaning again, louder this time. "Someone's impatient," you teased, receiving something akin to a whimper in return.

Pulling away to let your lover catch his breath, you quickly got to work on his neck, teasing your fingers against the band of his underwear just a little longer before finally slipping inside. Your hand wrapped around him just as you bit the sweet spot on his neck, eagerly sucking at the sensitive skin. This time, Jongho pulled at the ropes even stronger, a full-on sob ripping from his chest. He choked on the sound midway through, however, still too winded from your kiss to properly breathe.

Though whines and whimpers were nothing uncommon from him, something about his frantic breathing tipped you off immediately.

"Baby, are you oka-" you gasped as soon as you saw his visible distress, hyperventilating while tears ran down his cheeks. "Jongho! Oh my god, what happened?!" You immediately sat up straight, pulling your hands away from him and reaching for the restraints instead.

"It's-" Jongho began, only to choke on another sob, "I'm sorry, I can't, please, I don't-"

"Calm down baby, it's okay," you told him as softly and comfortingly as you could, suppressing the panic writhing inside you. "Just breathe with me while I get these off, alright?"

Jongho tried his best to listen, focusing on each rise and fall of your chest as he clumsily followed along. The moment he felt you tugging on the ropes again, however, another scared whimper escaped his lips.

"I know love, I'm sorry, just hold on," you tried to shush him, willing your hands to stop trembling and fumbling with the knots to free him as quickly as possible.

At last, the tight knot finally came undone, falling off your boyfriend's wrist. He immediately pulled it away from the headboard, reaching over to grab at you instead.

You let him clutch your thigh while you struggled with his other hand, inwardly cursing yourself for not practicing the knots more. His nails dug into your leg whenever you tugged a little too much, clearly still stuck in the fight-flight headspace he'd managed to slip into.

The moment both of his hands were freed, Jongho grasped onto your back, pulling you into his chest and pressing his thighs against you from behind to lock you into the embrace. The position was a bit awkward, bending you down in his lap and almost suffocating you against his body. You didn't consider moving away for a second, though, far too focused on your boyfriend's comfort.

The two of you stayed like this for a few minutes, with Jongho's breaths steadily evening out while you rubbed his sides and shoulder blades as much as your position allowed.

Then, the silence was broken.

"I'm sorry," Jongho croaked out, easing his hold on you as you finally sat up again. "I don't know what happened to me just now or why I couldn't say my safeword sooner, but I just- I'm so sorry."

You looked at him incredulously. "What are you sorry for? You're the one in distress, why should you be apologizing for anything?" You huffed, gently brushing his hair back into place. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing for not noticing sooner. And I really am sorry, I should have been more careful considering this was our first time trying this out."

Jongho just shook his head, squeezing your waist and hips absentmindedly. "No, that's not true. You trusted me to say the safeword if anything felt like too much, and I didn't do it. Or I couldn't, I guess."

Confused, your brows furrowed as you looked into his eyes. "What do you mean, 'couldn't'?"

Jongho sighed, cheeks heating up as a fresh wave of shame washed over him. No matter how hard he tried, being vulnerable was still a challenge at times, even with you. "I- I don't know... I guess I just felt lost, in a way. I didn't want to keep going anymore but you looked like you were enjoying it a lot and that made me second-guess myself and I got stuck in that loop until you noticed."

You mirrored Jongho's sigh, though yours was a lot less embarrassed and a lot more worried. "Honey," you spoke sternly, watching his eyes immediately flick back up to yours. "You know I love you, right?"

His eyes widened at the sudden question, but he quickly nodded anyway. "Of course I do! And I love you too, but... why do you ask?"

"Well, since you know I love you, you also know that I'd never knowingly push you past your limits just because I enjoy it, right? The only time I feel good is when I know you're feeling just as good as me, if not more," you explained softly but firmly, making sure the message stuck. "Please, promise me you'll never put my pleasure over your comfort ever again. Just because I'm the one calling the shots during a scene doesn't mean you should disregard your own feelings like that."

Silence filled the room as Jongho took in your words, stunned. His mouth opened as if to reply, but before he could, his lips started to tremble as a new wave of tears clouded his vision. He pressed his lips together, trying his best to suppress the sudden surge of emotions in his chest.

How could someone be this nice and gentle with him?

Perhaps that's what he was missing during the scene - that feeling that despite his submission, it was still him who ultimately decided what was okay and what wasn't. That at any point, he could just pull you off of him if he needed to, that he could escape any of the vulnerable situations you put him in. So when his hands were suddenly tied up, taking away that safety and security, it was only natural for him to panic.

He was not to blame.

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Jongho blinked away the tears in his eyes, giving you a tired but genuine smile instead.

"Promise."

taglist (one last time!!): @justconniez @domribo @another-random-fanfic-blog @imrllytootiredforthis

Thank you for reading! And remember, feedback is always very appreciated! <3

[archangeldyke-all]

HI ANGELLLL <3333 omg okay how would you think sevika would react to a reader who’s very firm that they should each have their own rooms in their house/apartment. like they have sleepovers all the time but separate spaces yk?

LOVE YOU <333

ooooh i love this!!

men and minors dni

when you guys first start living together, you only have the money and space for one bedroom in your apartment. silco pays well by undercity standards, but you're just a bartender for the man, and sevika spends a majority of her income drinking and gambling away all the trauma he puts her through on the daily.

and as much as you love her, you sometimes wish you had a space of your own. you know she feels the same way. she doesn't have an office at work to hide out in. you're both introverted people, more used to being alone than with others. sometimes, the best way for you and sevika to recharge is to just spend a few hours alone.

but once silco dies, and the war ends; you find yourself with two new children and an exorbitant bump in your shared income now that sevika's ambassador.

when you first bring up the idea of getting a house with enough space for all four of you to have your own bedrooms-- sevika's upset.

"wh-- you don't want to share a room with me?" she asks with a pout. you coo and cup her cheeks.

"no baby, it's not that at all. it's just... okay. you've got a lot of responsibility at your new job. you need a good night's sleep, even on the nights when i wanna stay up late reading my books. and i need a good nights sleep even on the nights you and isha wanna play fortnite all night."

sevika chuckles. "i guess it could be nice. wouldn't have to deal with the dumbass holiday pillows you decorate the bed with each season."

you gasp. "you love those pillows!"

"they're so fucking annoying! why do we have a dozen pillows?! we only need two to sleep!"

"okay, well i won't have to deal with your clothes on the floor killing me in the middle of the night when i gotta get up to piss." you huff.

sevika's angry glare fades, and she sighs. "i'd miss you."

you giggle. "i'd just be down the hall, love."

"i know, but still. will you let us have sleepovers?" she asks. you grin.

"obviously."

it ends up being one of the best ideas you've ever had.

sevika's new workload means she's always bringing her work home, proposals to read and papers to sign. it would annoy you endlessly, but she keeps it to her bedroom, a stack of papers piled up on her bedside table, her glasses folded on top.

since the last drop's been burnt down and isha and jinx have stumbled into your lives, you've been staying at home to keep an eye on the girls and keep the house functioning. in your free time-- when sevika's at work and the girls are entertaining themselves-- you've taken to doing puzzles.

you know it's a hobby sevika would attempt to divorce you for in another life-- but now, with your own bedroom, you can spread as many bowls of color sorted puzzle pieces around and occupy as many flat surfaces as your heart desires.

the only downside is the decrease in cuddles.

as a result, you and sevika take to cuddling on the couch a lot more. jinx an isha think it's disgusting, especially when your cuddles lead to kisses, but there's nothing you love more than having sevika lay on top of you after a long day, both of you watching the girls play video games.

sometimes, sevika makes 'cuddle meetings' with you-- which is just a specific hour of the day set aside for the two of you to spread out in one of your beds, cuddling and sometimes napping together.

and, best of all (even though her snoring annoys you more than words can describe) sometimes, you'll hear your bedroom door creak open in the middle of the night.

"isha?" you ask with a grumble. there's no response. "jinx?" you reach out to turn on your lamp, and burst into laughter at the sight of your wife shyly leaning against your bedroom doorframe. "hi sevi-bear." you giggle.

sevika smiles. "can i spend the night with you?" she asks. "it's cold in my room." you scoot over in bed and pat the spot beside you, giggling as sevika flings herself into your bed. she kisses you sloppily before laying down with a happy sigh. "thanks, baby."

you flick your light off with a giggle. "but no funny business, ma'am. you got that early meeting."

sevika laughs. "i know, i know, 's why i trapped you in the shower earlier." she wraps her arms around you and pulls you to her side, nuzzling her nose against your neck. "just... needed to hold you tonight."

you grin and twine your limbs around sevika's. "sweet dreams, love."

"mmh." sevika responds, already drifting off.

you close your eyes and kiss her forehead, settling in for sleep.

maybe you don't need two bedrooms... maybe it would be nice to sleep beside your wife every night...

just as you're about to fall asleep, sevika groans beside you. "why the fuck--" she snaps up in bed and starts throwing pillows onto the ground. "how many pillows does one person need?!" she huffs, before flinging herself back down into bed and curling around you.

you burst into laughter and pinch her side. you can feel sevika's smile against your throat.

nevermind, two bedrooms is probably for the best.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys

[visenyaism]

house of the dragon characters ranked by how good of a guest judge i personally think they would be on drag race🙂‍↕️

19. ser criston cole- gets a reverse glaad award for most homophobic thing ever said on television.

18. alicent hightower- would cry.

17. aemond- would do a little better post-alys rivers but it’s still looking pretty dire. hates camp despite dressing like an anime villain every day. criston raised him.

16. otto hightower- openly homophobic but clearly strangely familiar with drag race and knows what he’s talking about

15. helaena- shes sweet but I think it would be hard to get her to focus and also she might accidentally prophesy the winner. don’t really think it would be her thing she’s not really a fashion or prolonged social interaction person.

14. aegon- funny and cool until the exact instant he is extremely NOT.

13. corlys- does alright on his own but he’s clearly a little uncomfortable the whole time. if they let him bring his wife it’s a good time.

12. rhaenyra’s brunette sons- raised too right by their mom they would just respectfully clap and cheer and say “i think she looks nice” about everyone.

11. larys strong- weird and off-putting but bizarrely accurate reads.

10. ser harwin strong- could handle they/them pussy could handle being a guest judge. solid pick. episode gets significant backlash from the flea bottom community for inviting essentially the chief of police on though.

9. the crabfeeder- gay people love the crabfeeder.

8. mysaria- possesses the skillset to be very good at guest judging like she’s very established and known among the flea bottom queens but she’s seen it all and is a bit over it.

7. laena- from what little we saw of her she is witty and vivacious and passionate that’s a pretty high score.

6. viserys- don’t know how he feels about gay people but he DOES love pageantry and serving targaryen realness.

5. laenor- very very fun. even better if he gets to bring his boyfriend or rhaenyra.

4. rhaenyra- shes a little shy but once she opens up she is phenomenal. The Rhaenyra/Laenor guest judge episode woudlve been so excellent it would have bought them enough good PR to win the throne in less than 36 hours.

3. dragon twins- they got daemon’s mean streak plus laena’s sparkle i think they would KILL it.

2. daemon targaryen- crazy bisexual man on adderall. took rhaenyra to a rhaenyra-themed drag show when he was trying to groom her so i guess he’s with it. is at least entertaining to watch. thinks he can reclaim.

1. rhaenys- would absolutely CLEAR she is bitchy in just the right way and would clearly be having the time of her life. let her commentate on more things.

[asmogorna]

Ok so for the last couple days ive been ill in the head about The Black Parade as mcr's alter ego/characters and i wanted to share some thoughts i had so far :3

It doesnt align with the canon lore that we have (i didnt really use it for reference at least) so it can be viewed as some sort of an au

I dont know if im gonna give them new names that just sound similar to the names of mcr themselves, so for now i will be referring to them by the names of the band members

So far I've been thinking about the typical "chosen by fate" scenario, where the characters lives lead them through a path for a specific cause

So

Post WW2 England

5 kids under their own circumstances witness a big parade (I will be doing some research and see if it could be some kind of victory celebration parade? It's just that I'm not sure if England had those. Not that I'm aiming for historical accuracy atp it's simple curiosity)

The kids get heavily impacted by that event and carry on (ha) that memory throughout their life

Now to the specifics of the characters cus by God they all gave me a headache

Heads up: they're all british orphans lol

Frank and Bob are students/residents in a Christian orphan school, and later on in life are priests in the town church

The reason why is that they both have badges on their uniform with crosses that could be associated with christianity

(I couldn't find any info about what exactly certain design details could be referencing, so ig it's up to interpretation)

The military theme in Gerard and Mikey's costumes will be explored on later (Mikey's medal could be either The Victoria Cross or The Distinguished Flying Cross, and the symbol on Gerard's shoulder is most likely the Order Of The Garter star)

And I couldn't figure out what to do w Ray, because I'm not sure if his uniform design details reference anything specific 🤷🏾🤷🏾🤷🏾

Now, Gerard and Mikey lost their father to war, and their mother passed away when they were both very young

And after that they ended up in the same orphanage as Ray, befriending him and finding out about their shared passion for music

This doodle was made abt that specifically <3

Later on in early adulthood they decide to start a cabaret band, in which Frank and Bob both join them later, deciding to leave their priest lives behind (partially because iirc both of them kinda fanboyed their way into the band irl lol)

After receiving little recognition, the band decides to take a train to America, to try their luck there. With a lot of hope and determination

That, sadly, doesn't last for long, for the train crushes with no survivors on board

The group crawls out of the collapsed train in their no longer physical forms. Yet, even after their death, they still have a desire to move forward. And that desire, though thoughtlessly, forces them to go forward. The souls of all the other people who lost their lives to the train accident follow them, through the landscape that no longer feels like earth

They then reach the end

Walking in one by one people disappear, finding their own peace and meeting their own finish line

After it's done, The Black Parade now have officially made themselves into what they're supposed to be. Gaining a new purpose and a new sort of life

I got too poetic for my own good here I fear .. anyway

Their job now is to lead the lost and the forgotten to the afterlife

They could be referred to as some kind of a grim reaper, I guess

I'm still thinking about adding more to the story, and maybe I will change some things, but so far this is all I can share really !! I hope if you've read this far you found this entertaining .. this is all for the satisfaction of my urges so I might or might not have too much fun w it in the future :3

The story was mainly inspired by this specific post from Gerard himself, because i liked the concept a lot ..

Also

She's gonna be here as a separate character too probably...... Cus I'm self indulgent and I love the ideas bubbling in my brain

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter sixteen

Synopsis: You realize a bit more about how you feel towards Rex that extends past just being teammates. Just in time for a specialized mission you’re the only one interested in going on.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter: 16/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None

Note: I loved reading your guy's shocked comments last time, you're all so funny. This chapter and the next were both going to be one chapter but this one is already so long it would probably end up being 10k+ words 😭 Then the chapter after the next one will be a Rex POV. Reblogs, comments, likes, taglist requests are all very appreciated!!

You don’t like him. Not like that, that’s ridiculous. You could hardly stand him a few days ago! It wasn’t even just dislike, you hated him. And he hated you. He spent months trying to get rid of you. This is ridiculous, more than ridiculous it’s… well, it’s just plain idiotic. You barely like him enough to visit his room! And that’s just because you feel bad. Sure, he seems to be making an effort of sorts to be better, but that does not erase months of heartache and borderline misery. Heartache isn’t the right word, that implies that he has some kind of effect on your heart, which he does not.

But he was at least semi-good company after long shifts at the hospital. Who else did you have? Rae didn’t want to entertain you constantly, and she was still asleep most of the day because of her healing process. So, who else did you have other than the asshole? You just liked to see his steady improvement; it was akin to a social experiment. Nothing more. And as far as social experiments went at least he was somewhat good company. You liked the banter as much as you hated to admit it. And you liked how much he seemed to concede to what you were saying. A stark contrast to the Rex who had fought you on everything. If you asked to see his new hand, he would let you see it without hesitation. If you told him to stop talking while you were trying to focus on a message that just popped up from Cecil, he would instantly shut up. It was like he had been trained almost overnight. Sure, he could be funny, and surprisingly insightful but that doesn’t mean anything either.

At this very moment, he’s telling you how annoyed he is at his hair. Which as of now was starting to grow out from the close-cut buzz he had received during surgery. It was a little scruffy, not nearly long enough to be weighed down, so it just stuck out in different directions. He looked dumb in an endearing sort of way. For the first part of your visit, he just sat with one hand on his head as if it would hide it from you. Chunks stuck up through his fingers, and he somehow made it look perfectly natural for someone to sit like that. Until he needed to talk about something with more animation, and then his annoyance at how it looked was forgotten. You didn’t think it looked that bad, it was very different from his usual look, but not bad. It looked soft-  

Ah, shit.

You were starting to like Rex.

It was hard enough to look him in the eye after your dream the other night. It was embarrassing honestly. You might have self-indulged a little, asking Rex to inspect his hand for fully no reason other than because you wanted to. He didn’t even ask why, just offered it and kept talking.

“Cecil’s talking about getting me to be field ready after today-”

You hummed quietly, only half listening after your sudden realization. God, Rae was going to have a field day with this.

“I hope my suit is all fixed up, you know? If not I guess I could call Eve or something cause the amount of damage it had I doubt I could patch it up-” His left hand was still nudged towards you, palm up, even though you were no longer examining it.

“Wait, you said Cecil wants you back on the field?” You dropped your thought process for a moment, finally focusing fully on him.

“Uh, yeah.” He said with a small nod. “I’m getting discharged today, they said I’m basically good to go-”

“I don’t think ‘basically’ isn’t very assuring.” You frowned.

He tilted his head a little at you, a sly smile ghosting over his lips. “You worried about me, nurse?”

Normally you would roll your eyes, quickly followed by an exasperated groan. But now, you could swear the temperature of the room went up a few degrees. “No, I’m worried that if you get put on a mission, you’ll fuck it up. You should be fully healed before going out again.” Harsh, maybe harsher than it needed to be. But you didn’t want him reading into the way you had just looked at him.

“First of all, fucking ouch. Second of all, if you’re so worked up about it, why not just check me yourself?” He holds his right hand out to where you sit on the recliner.

You glance down at his hand before snapping your gaze back up to him. “Well, if the doctors say you’re good to go-”

He barks out a laugh. “What is going on right now?”

“They are professionals, they know what they’re doing.” Your eyes jerk down to his hand for a second again, which he is still holding out to you.

“You just said-” Rex raises a brow, but before he can finish you interrupt.

“Oh, piss off, fine.” You grab his hand a little rougher than you meant to. You can feel him tense from the gesture which sends a feeling down your spine. Good or bad, you couldn’t quite tell, but you felt it. You close your eyes, focusing on whether there are any remaining injuries, and surprisingly enough, besides a few left-over bruises he seems fairly fine. You let go after healing the measly remainder, “See? You’re all set.”

“See?” Rex repeats, confusion lacing his tone. “See what? I wasn’t the one raising doubts,” He looks to the other side of the room as if looking for an imaginary camera. “What-?”

“Gotta stop living in the past Rex, keep moving forward.” You stand up swiftly, preparing to leave. Should you feel bad for borderline gaslighting the poor guy? Maybe. But you were feeling your own confusion as it was.

“Wait.” Rex’s voice calls out as you go to grab your coat. “Are you still coming around the HQ?”

“Yep, still work there.” You folded your coat over your arm.

“So, I’ll see you around?” He’s wincing slightly as if he’s being too vulnerable, and he has to express it externally.

“Yes.” You affirm, your expression softening. “I know where you live, don’t worry.” You give him a small smile.

“I know where you live too.” He says back.

“Great, and I know where I live, and you know where you live, so we’ve got that covered.” Not sure how to fully end this exchange, you take a few steps back to exit the room.

Rex opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly snaps it shut, gripping the sheets of his hospital bed tightly. His jaw ticks as he looks off to the side, and you decide you need to get out of there now before you make a fool of yourself.

“See you later, Rex!” You call out as you step out of the room.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You’re entering Rae’s room; some trashy reality TV show is playing on the screen. Rae herself is working on some breakfast, obviously not enjoying it much. “Hello?” She raises a brow at you as you close the door with an unintentional slam.

“Hi.” You respond as you sink into the chair.

“Did someone die?” She eats a spoonful of her food, shuddering as she swallows.

“Worse.” You respond dramatically, your hands covering your face.

“They’re making you move into The Guardian’s HQ?”

“Ohhh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You peeked through your index and middle finger to look at her.

“Eh, not really. Then I can’t escape to your apartment for drink  nights. So, if it’s not that then what is it?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“Probably.”

“It’s so ridiculous.”

“Come on, are you being paid by the word?”

“Rex.” You close your fingers, feeling your face heat up again.

“Of course.” Giggles sound off from Rae’s direction as soon as you say it, not needing to ask another clarifying question. “I knew this was coming.”

“How?” You tried not to sound extremely pathetic, but it still came out in a half whine. “I couldn’t stand him!”

“You brought him a bottle after you kicked his ass, constantly looked at him when he was around, talked about him when I was over-” She starts counting out on her fingers.

“You’re the one who brought him up when you came over!” You exclaim.

“Because I knew you wanted to talk about him!”

“He has been the major cause of any drama or problem in my life, of course I’d want to talk about that. That doesn’t mean I liked him!” You held your hands out in an animated fashion as you spoke.

“Oh no, you definitely didn’t like him. But you thought about him all the time, didn’t you?”

“Ugh, you’re not making me feel better.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about it being one-sided.” She finally ditched the food, pushing it away with a sour face.

“What?” You slouch more in the chair, swiveling to face her.

“Every bit of energy you’ve taken up talking, or complaining-or whatever, about him, he’s done like tenfold over you. He’s obsessed.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, somehow sinking further down. “I wish I had your level of delusion, Rae.”

“Call me delusional all you want, give it a few days, weeks.” She pauses and looks at you. “Or months, given the sluggish pace you two have been moving. I might be dead by then with the likes of this job.”

“Oh boy.”

Rae takes the pause to turn more towards you, letting out a groan at the exertion which has you shooting up even though she has no intentions of letting you help. “So, what made you finally realize?”

“Are you sure I can’t help in some way?” You rub your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Stop changing the subject, help me by giving the details.”

You sigh for what must have been the millionth time since entering the room. “I had…a dream.”

“Ooh, the scandal!”

“Shut up.” Pause. “Yeah, I mean kind of.”

“Call me the moment he shows up at your apartment looking like a lost puppy, Bulletproof is going to owe me so much money.”

“I really hope you’re joking.”

--

“No offense, but since when did we take orders from you, Donald? Where is Cecil?”

“This isn’t orders, it’s a prospect job.” Donald responded with a cool air.

He was always good at taking the shit everyone gave him. It made you feel for him more than most.

A few days have passed since you last saw Rex at the hospital. Somehow the two of you just couldn’t seem to coincide at the headquarters. It was frustrating, and even more frustrating than the lack of his presence in your life, was the fact that it frustrated you in the first place. You had walked by instinct to his room at the hospital multiple times the day after he left just to be greeted by sterile air and the smell of various detergents used to clean the area. The disappointment that filled you with the sight of it was not lost on you.

Right now, you finally saw him. The Guardians were assembled for some ‘special’ mission. Donald had gathered you all on Cecil’s behalf, it had all been very vague. Every member was present minus Rae, who was still recovering, and now going through physical therapy. And Kate, who was well…dead.

The memory of the fallen member had its effect on you just like every other mistake you had made. In order to be productive, both as an individual and as a hero, you had to push it away every time it entered your mind. You could wallow or you could act. You choose to act.

“A job? I thought we already had jobs. You know, being that we are Guardians and all.” Rex’s voice sounded out from the other side of the group, causing you to shift your attention. He was wearing his suit, and from the state of it he had recently been in a fight. His headpiece was pushed back but his goggles were perched on top of his head, his short hair poking up around it. You clenched your jaw tightly, he should be on vacation, having a break, or I don’t know, in therapy? He almost died. There’s no way that he came back from that completely fine. In that case, maybe you should be in therapy too, the number of times you’ve kind of almost died. But that’s only kind of so you’re obviously exempt. Rex shifted slightly, his line of sight landing on you, which sent you looking back at Donald again with no idea how long you’d been staring.

“This is technically out of Guardian jurisdiction, but an important donor has asked us specifically for undercover security detail.”

“Wait, we’ve been asked to be someone’s glorified security guards? Isn’t that a bit below our pay grade?” Bulletproof sounds off from right next to you.

“There are plenty of other heroes around, do you need a portfolio that you could send to him? I still have one from when I was running tryouts for the new team.” Rudy input a bit further down the line.

You glanced over before adding your own contribution, “Donor? Aren’t we government-run? How do we have donors?”

“They have asked specifically for members from The Guardians. You can technically refuse, but it wouldn’t be without repercussions.” Donald focuses on you. “There are a select few donors that contribute to the GDA and other operations, which entails all of you. Makes for more funds for renovations after damages that occur after Guardian missions.”

It makes sense, kind of. Cecil made a comment to you once about how much it costs to use his teleportation device, and with how much upkeep the Guardians themselves take just from missions, you can’t imagine it is in any way cheap. But donors?

“It would be a small detail, two or three. The person of interest has received a few concerning terroristic threats and wants to be sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Everything, as in?” Amanda questions.

“It’s a fundraiser, a gala-”

“A dance? This is ridiculous.” Immortal interjects, scoffing at Donald. “We are the Guardians of the Globe, not some dollar store rent-a-cop business.”

A few voices intertwine, speaking out all at once, mostly sounding disgruntled, displeased. On one level you understood their reservations. This was not the kind of thing any of you dealt with. Stakeouts? Sure. Life-threatening last-minute situations? Of course. A money-raising ball with the off chance of terrorism? Not as much.

Rex’s voice was surprisingly not one of those you heard. You tried to subtly look over at him, just to see that he was already looking right at you. Seemingly gauging your reaction. After looking away so suddenly earlier you would be pushing your luck doing it again right now. There was nothing else you’d rather do than break this scathing contact, but you just looked at him. And he looked back, his pale green gaze washing over you. Internally, you were trying to decide how long an acceptable amount of time would be to look at him, giving him a small smile. You didn’t have to wonder for long, because he broke the eye contact first. His attention turned to Immortal who was saying something about none of them partaking in this “obsolete distraction”.

“I’ll do it.” Before you fully thought it through the affirmation passed your lips. You weren’t really sure what the big deal was. So, what, it’s not some city-leveling threat. It almost sounded like fun, even exciting. You would be able to dress up, play a part, improvise. It would be a nice change of scenery.

Immortal sighed heavily. “You can have her. But we can’t spare anyone of importance.”

Give me a fucking break. You closed your eyes, letting out a controlled breath before turning to Bulletproof. “Come with me.” You whispered.

“Oh, hell no. I don’t want to have to dress up for some dance. No way.” He whispered back, not turning his head.

“Please! It would be at least a few days away from this place. It could be like a vacation.” You hiss, determined to get someone to go with you. Bulletproof was nice enough, and you knew he would be professional, which you couldn’t say for other members.

And you wouldn’t dare ask Rex.

“Ugh.” Bulletproof grumbled quietly. “I’ll go too.” He said loud enough for everyone else to hear.

Donald nodded, giving you what you swore must have been a look of appreciation, but with the glasses, you just couldn’t tell.

The Immortal grunted in displeasure but didn’t comment, folding his arms.

“I’ll also go.”

The whole group turns their attention to the voice that spoke from the other side of the room.

“What? I’d never say no to a party, you guys should know that by now.” Rex expressed with a composed tone.

“We can’t spare both you and Bulletproof.” Immortal said gruffly, turning to Donald. “Won’t just one person do?”

He couldn’t even use your name. Your expression betrayed how much this was getting under your skin, but you couldn’t seem to return to indifference.

“Technically, only two members are needed-” Donald starts,

“If something happens Bulletproof can just fucking fly back-or something, right?” Rex cuts in, drawing attention back to him.

“Technically-” Bulletproof begins, holding a hand up to his chin.

“Great. Then it sounds like we’re set.” Rex finishes and you catch his eye for a moment, mouthing a small ‘thank you’, to which he briskly nods, looking back at the Immortal.

“Very well.” Immortal bites out, leaving the conversation entirely, followed closely by Black Sampson.

“Shall I too go on this adventure?” Shapesmith asks, which is immediately shut down but a hand on the shoulder from Bulletproof and a shake of the head.

“You will each receive a detailed briefing later today by handout.” Donald explains to the three of you that agreed to attend. “The Gala is located on the donor’s personal land in northern Montana. The morning after will consist of a special guest brunch which you all will be attending as well. There will be rooming for you there as they want you on scene all night long just in case. And it would also be easier on resources to keep you all there.”

“Who is this person?” You inquire, Donald has not said anything specific this whole conversation other than where this dance would take place, and that the mystery person was a donor for the GDA.

“That will be in the handout you receive.” He stated concisely.

“Why all the secrecy?” Rex furrows his brow, folding his arms.

“Discretion is involved regarding every donor.” Donald responds, straightening his tie. “The gala is tomorrow night, you will all be flown in tomorrow afternoon, outfits and identities will be assigned to you.”

Bulletproof looked exceptionally put out, Rex looked like he was trying to solve long division in his head, and you? Well, you were borderline ecstatic.

--

You would never get used to using a private jet. After so long flying commercially, all the space felt like heaven. Your back didn’t start aching after the first hour, you could stand up and stretch your legs, even more you could write an essay about the bathroom. The other times you had traveled in the Guardian-affiliated-jet it had been the whole team. Now it was just you, Bulletproof, and, worst of all, Rex.

The carpet was a crisp maroon, the rest of the interior was a sterile white. Which you thought sharply contrasted with the Guardians of the Globe headquarters, that consisted mostly of aluminum tones. The walls of the plane’s interior were accented with mahogany plating, something you couldn’t decide if you thought was tacky or classy. The opinion changed every mission.

Any excitement at the prospect of being in semi-close quarters with Rex again was quickly drowned out by Rex and Bulletproof incessantly bickering.

“I’m just saying I still think you could have come up with a more inspired name.”

“I’m about to be inspired to knock your teeth out.” Bulletproof spit back.

You didn’t get between them, eventually they would both wear themselves out.

The clouds outside your window hung far below. Clustered together, forming wool-like patterns. For a moment you imagined what it would be like to surf on it. Then you looked back at the handout Donald had provided you each with. The three of you were meant to be covert, blend in. You were each free to use your own names, as apparently most of these people were not horribly well-informed. However, you each had been assigned backstories. You were a philanthropist by blood, having inherited a section of the oil industry. Rex was a wildlife activist who had traveled all over the world. Zandale was meant to be a journalist who was writing about the event for Time Magazine. Hopefully, there wasn’t someone there actually from Time Magazine, but you guessed that Donald already checked the guest list for that.

When you first read through it you had mentioned to the other two that you thought it was odd that Rex was the person who had been all over, rather than Zandale, who could fly.

“I have been all over.” Rex had said defensively.

“What? When?” You had scoffed.

“Just…well, a while ago, I don’t fucking know.” The tension in the room had skyrocketed for reasons you weren’t sure of, so you didn’t ask further.

The donor was someone named Dr. Mune. Apparently, the doctor was a genius. Having created many of the lifesaving measures the GDA is still using today. One of those included the brand-new hand Rex was situated with. You wish you could have seen Rex’s reaction to that information. Would it make him work harder on the mission? Or did he feel indifferent to it? It made you feel more connected to the job; the new hand was nothing short of a work of art. Memories of how it felt against your touch flood your vision, sending electricity down your spine.

“Joy?” You turned as Rex said your nickname, feeling annoyance at the sound of it after it had been used so long as an insult. Or at least that was how you had formerly perceived it.

You hummed in response, waiting for him to speak.

“Well, what do you think?” Rex said, tilting his head.

“I think you’re both extremely annoying.”

“God, I already know that. Focus! Whose name is better?”

They both looked at you expectantly. It was weird to see Bulletproof, or rather Zandale, without his goggles on.

“Do I have to take a vote?” You sighed heavily, turning back to the window.

“Yes.” They responded in unison.

“I like Invincible’s name most probably.”

“That was not one of the options but thank you for reminding us of your crush.” Rex retorted, a hint of bitterness lacing his words.

You scoffed, turning back towards them, ready to correct him, only to hear Zandale let out a laugh. Your gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowing. He was pursing his lips and purposefully not looking at either of you. Shit. Rae hadn’t been joking. Great.

“What?” Rex looked at him too, his brow drawing together tensely.

He bit the corner of his upper lip, looking up at you first then at Rex, then back and forth a few times. GREAT.

“How do you know I don’t have the hots for Bulletproof here, hm?” You panicked, you had to say anything to get him to get off Zandale’s obvious trail.

This caused them both to turn their attention to you. “What?” They said in unison again, which made you laugh.

“God, you two are like Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum, I’m surprised you don’t get along better.”

Rex shook his head while holding his hands up as if putting away all of this information to deal with later. “Okay, can you just answer the original question?”

You hum again, you could be honest, or you could really mess with Rex. Unfortunately for Rex… “Honestly, probably Bulletproof.”

“Suck it!” Zandale shoots up out of his seat, doing some kind of air-pump gesture.

“You- you’re lying! She’s fucking lying don’t listen to her!” Rex holds his hands out in distraught, watching as Bulletproof had his own little celebration.

For a brief moment, you made eye contact with him, smiling the cheesiest grin. His annoyed expression softened as he sucked on his teeth. For that small moment, it felt like it was just the two of you. Your smile shrunk into something more genuine, gentler. And for some reason, you waved. It was small, you hardly lifted your hand. His gaze dropped to it, and a small smile ghosted over his lips before he returned the action. His free hand gripping the armrest tightly.

--

Bulletproof had nodded off, his head rested against the edge of the window next to his seat. You were thankful more than anything he didn’t snore. He had already changed into his tuxedo for the night, it bunched up at his chest while he slouched against it. Someone, somewhere in high society would have cried at the sight.

You and Rex hadn’t changed yet. Rex exclaimed that he wanted to remain a free man as long as possible, and you thought it would be more exciting to dress up closer to landing time. Your stomach was already starting to twist unpleasantly each time the pilot announced the amount of time until arrival. It was similar to your first mission, fresh, and unfamiliar. A good portion of your stomach aches revolved around glances to the other side of the plane at your teammate. After the conversation had died down, he hadn’t looked in your direction once. You would have felt hurt by it, wondered if he was starting to hate you again. But it felt too charged, too intentional. The old Rex wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot a glare in your direction. This was nothing like that.

You would glance over at him from time to time, his gaze was on his lap, and had been for almost an hour, his hands clasped together, left thumb tapping the tip of his right one. You were positive he could see you somewhat, because every time you looked over his jaw clenched.

We will be making our descent in forty-five minutes.

“I’m gonna get dressed.” You whisper so as to not wake up Zandale while rising out of your seat. Rex practically jumps out of his seat at the broken silence.

He clears his throat. “Okay.”

What was that? “Are you okay?” You grab the garment bag containing your dress, and the shoe box next to it from the overhead rack.

Rex nods, letting out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, obviously, I just forgot you were here.”

“You forgot I was here?” You raised a brow, holding the garment bag over your shoulder as you turned to look at him.

“What? I’ve got a lot on my mind. Whole…mission and everything.”

“Okay, weirdo.” You laugh, moving towards the nose of the plane where the restroom is located.

Once inside, you pulled the dress out. It was a silky material- well, it probably was silk now that you thought about it. You would have to thank Donald for whatever strings he had pulled to make it your favorite color. The dress was sleeveless, with a mock neckline. It was fairly simple, the end of the dress reached down to your ankles. The shoes had a few inches of heel to them, which made you hope there would not be any hitches in the night, as you’d have to ditch them the moment you needed to sprint anywhere.

After getting it all situated and neatly folding your streetwear you started to pull the zipper up on the back of your dress, only for it to get to a point on your back you couldn’t reach.

A few beats of silence passed before you tried reaching your hand over your shoulder to get it, with no success.

You were not going to be able to do it on your own. How had women for decades zipped their dresses alone? Should you take it off, zip it, and try to pull it over your head? If it ripped in any way you were royally screwed. With a defeated sigh, you grabbed your stuff, put your hand out towards the door, and slowly pushed it up.

Rex was standing in the aisle, pushing his show box back into the overhead space. He had gotten dressed at the same time as you. Got dressed is a loose way of putting it. If someone could spin their way into clothing, you imagine they would look like Rex did now.

“You’re going to wrinkle it.” You put your things down in the first seat you walked by, straightening out the front of your dress absentmindedly as you made your way to him.

“I don’t think the shoes are going to wrinkle-” Rex started with a scoff before he closed his mouth from the scathing look you gave him and…something else.

“The suit, jackass.” You try not to smile, as you finally reach him. “This is supposed to be buttoned- you missed one of your shirt buttons.” You point out, the end of his dress shirt lopsided at the bottom. “Your shirt is also meant to be tucked in. Didn’t you see how Zandale looked?” You hold your hands out offering to help but he brushes you off, undoing his shirt himself with a groan.

“Since when were you two on a first-name basis?” He mumbled, working his way down them.

“Since I started treating him like a human being, so always.” You roll your eyes at him, folding your arms as you wait for him to catch up.

Did you forget he was, for lack of a more delicate way to put it, completely and totally built? No. You had seen his torso before, you had spent the better part of a half-hour with your hand pressed to it, healing him after a wound you had inflicted. But this wasn’t like that time. Then, you had been focused on the shame you had felt for causing the injury in the first place. Now, you were a bystander. Waiting to tell him how to properly wear his suit.

At first, you watched him, the way his hands flexed with each button. How the white linen of his shirt accented his chest underneath, which was becoming more and more visible. The way his chest rose and fell subtly with each inaudible huff. You eventually had to look away, determined to look at anything that wasn’t the warm tone of his skin.

His hands caught slightly on the last button, and he muttered something about ‘not having to put up with this shit’ as if he wasn’t the one to put it on wrong in the first place. “So, I just-?” He started from the bottom, lining each hole up to its corresponding button. He paused after a few, glancing up at you as if checking he was doing it right.

“Yep.” Your voice cracked in the worst way, forcing you to clear your throat as inconspicuously as possible. “Have you never worn a button-up?” Anything to get your mind off the fact you were blushing right now based on how warm you were feeling.

“You don’t really get the opportunity much in this business. Only time it’s ever come up was for funerals. The only one I’ve ever considered going to was for the old GDA director. But I didn’t end up going so…” He pauses for a moment, his thumb rubbing a few times over the material. “This good?” He asks, holding his hands up so you can see.

“Yeah, that’s good.” You respond softly. “Now you’ve got to tuck it in.” A breath passes as he does as you say. “What was he like?” You aren’t sure if you should ask, but you do any ways.

He stops what he’s doing and looks up at you. Making direct eye contact for the first time since your wave earlier. “The director?” A small look of confusion spreads over his features, clearly not thinking you would ask further.

“Yeah, I’ve never heard anything about him.” You tighten your arms closer over your torso, nibbling on the inside of your cheek.

“Oh, well-” He continues tucking his shirt in, “He was, well he was an asshole is what he was. If you think Cecil is uncaring, you should have seen Director Radcliffe.”

Even from the way Rex called him by his title rather than his first name like Cecil, you could feel the difference in relationship. “Were you around him a lot?”

“Yeah.” Rex said softly. “Okay, so I button this up then or do I leave it open?” He gestured to his suit vest.

You file away that conversation for later, not wanting to push him further than he was comfortable with. “Yes, you button that.”

“Do I tuck it in?”

“No.”

“What about this?”

“Wait, where’s your tie?”

Rex looks around for a moment, his hands suspended out partially as he looks around. “It was…ah, here.” He holds it up triumphantly after grabbing it from where it lay crumpled a few seats down. It was the exact same shade as your dress, in the same silky texture. You wanted to sigh. You were going to look like prom dates.

“I’m guessing you don’t know how to tie it?”

Rex looks down at it for a split second before looking back at you. “Do I really need it?”

“Yes. You will stand out immediately. This whole thing is supposed to be undercover, remember?” You hold your hand out for him to hand it to you.

“You know how to tie it?” He looks at you with suspicion, as if you’re trying to pull a fast one.

“Yes, now will you let me help you?” He looks down at it for a moment, then begrudgingly gives it. “I learned in the hospital, I had this one patient who never let me heal him, but he always wanted to wear a tie.” You start as you signal for him to bend down, he does so without convincing and you hook it around his neck, angling it so it would rest under his upturned collar. “He never wore a suit or anything, but he insisted on wearing one over his gown. The first day I was there, I had no clue. He got really mad, huffed, puffed, the whole act. Told me he never wanted to see me again unless I learned how to tie a tie.” You looped it, “When I got back to my apartment, I was so frustrated. I swore I was going to quit at the hospital, quit with Cecil, everything. I was scared to join the Guardians, and I didn’t think I was ready-”

“You were scared to join the Guardians?” Rex interrupted; a quick glance up revealed that he was staring at you intently. You returned your eyes to your work, ignoring the rekindled heat that spread across your face.

“Don’t interrupt. Anyways, I was so mad. I picked up my phone to call Cecil, I was done. And then I got distracted. I opened a tutorial on how to tie a tie, then another. And soon enough I had watched way more than I needed, and I was sure if I tried again I could do it.”

“And did you?”

“No.” You laughed, “I screwed it up immediately, and he threw his Jello at me.”

“Jesus, really?”

You nodded. “And then I went back the next day and tried again, and the same the day after that. Until one day I did it right. He never thanked me or acknowledged the times before, but slowly he started telling me about his life. His wife who passed away a few years ago, his children that didn’t know where he was. Everything. I used to look forward to seeing him.” You finished tying it, but you didn’t let go quite yet.

“Do you still see him?” Rex’s voice came out soft, you could feel his words against your face.

“He died.” It was short, simple, but not sweet. Bitter reality. “He had stage four leukemia, even if he had let me heal him it wouldn’t have mattered. I can’t fix stuff like that.” You folded down his collar, your fingers lingering over it. You could feel his body heat just below the fabric.

“Did you go to his funeral?” You looked up at that. His gaze wasn’t on you but shifted to the side. You weren’t sure what response he was looking for, or why he asked, but you answered.

“No.” It was a quiet response, uttered so soft he could hardly hear, even from his close proximity. He met your gaze, searching it quietly. And you let him, staring right back.

Five minutes to arrival.

The pilot’s voice jarred you both, causing you to let go of his tie, and remove your fingers from his collar. The sudden interruption sent Rex back into a fully upright position, rather than the slouch he had been partaking in for your ease. He shoved the tie under his suit vest and straightened out the jacket.

“How do I look?”

You held your hand up in a spinning motion and he did a quick turn. “You clean up pretty well. Almost looks like you weren’t in the hospital a few days ago.” He looked good, so good you didn’t want to keep looking at him. This almost qualified as torture.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling from the depth of it. Just that small detail made your stomach flip. You needed to get this under control-

Oh, right, your dress. “Rex, can you actually help me with his?”

He nods, waiting for you to do something but you just stand there. Shit, you should have just risked ripping the damn thing. “It’s my dress. I can’t get it zipped.”

“Oh.” He blinks a few times. “Your dress has been unzipped this whole time?”

“I got it part of the way, so it’s not falling off or anything, calm down.” You tried to joke but your palms were sweating. If anyone needed to calm down, it was you. All you were doing was asking for a zip, pull yourself together. After checking that he was still waiting to help, you shake out your hands at your sides and then turn so he can do what you’ve asked. “Hopefully you’re better at zipping than buttoning.” The chuckle that follows your words is dry.

“I think I can manage.” His voice is low, and you can feel his breath fanning over the back of your neck, causing you to suppress a shiver. You should have asked Bulletproof, woken him up, or something. You can feel his fingertips press lightly into your back as he holds the two sides together so that his other hand can pull up the zipper. The contact itself gives you goosebumps, every thought you can conjure now that isn’t about the feel of him is praying that he doesn’t notice. “I think you’re set.”

“Thanks, Rex.” His hands don’t leave your back in haste, his left hand brushing over your exposed shoulder blade. You turn a notch, looking at him against your better judgment.

He clears his throat and puts his hands down. “You’re set.”

“You said that already.” You smile, mildly confused.

He stares at you again, expression unreadable, and his jaw ticking like before. Then, he steps back. “Someone’s got to wake sleeping beauty.” His previous expression fades and is replaced by one of mischief, as he tips over to where Bulletproof is. Fully intending to scare him awake.

The plane eventually landed, and the three of you talked about your game plans, which ended up just being ‘don’t be suspicious, mingle-’ pretty self-explanatory.

“Where are we?” You were looking out the window, your fingers splayed out around it as you leaned down. There were other planes around you, but from the way you were angled, you couldn’t see the airport.  

Both of the guys shrugged, helpful as always. You moved to the nose of the plane where the pilot had already opened up the door.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Rex followed up close behind you.

“We landed in the backyard.”

Rex looked out at the other planes lined up next to you and then over at the looming mansion. “What the fuck?”

Author's Note: Rex is so yapper boyfriend core. Guys tell me what color’s your dresses and Rex’s tie is :3

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @sugaramped @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul request to be tagged for new parts!

Chapter seventeen

[herstoryheaven]

Pablo Gavira x Reader: The Name On My Back

Request: Hi girl, I love the way you write about Football/F1 Drivers, I was just wondering if you could write another fic about Gavi? Any theme, cause you’re very good at writing!!😊

Prompt: Wearing her boyfriend's jersey to his match for the first time, Y/n discovers the deeper meaning behind the gesture.

Reader: Female

Word count: 2201

Average reading time: 8 min

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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The stadium buzzed with excitement, the stands filling up with fans decked out in red and blue, eager to watch FC Barcelona take on their rivals. The air was electric, filled with the anticipation of the match ahead. Y/n stood at the entrance of the stadium, her heart racing as she clutched Pablo Gavira’s jersey in her hands. It was oversized on her, making her second-guess if it looked acceptable on her. But it wasn't the fit that made her uneasy.

She had never been one to crave the spotlight, and the thought of sitting among the other players' girlfriends, all of whom seemed so effortlessly confident, made her stomach twist in knots. Her nerves felt like a thousand butterflies trapped inside her chest, wings beating frantically against her ribcage.

But Pablo, Pablo had asked her to wear it, and the memory of his pleading brown eyes, so full of warmth and affection, made it impossible for her to refuse.

“Mi amor, please?” he had begged just hours before, his voice soft and teasing as he held the jersey out to her. “You’ll look absolutely beautiful in it. Besides, I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

Y/n had hesitated, chewing her bottom lip as she looked at the jersey. "Are you sure? I mean, won’t I look silly? It’s so big on me…”

Pablo had chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped closer, his hands gently wrapping around her waist. “Princesa.” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, “You’ll look perfect. And I’ll be proud knowing you’re wearing my name.”

She had melted under his touch, his words wrapping around her like a blanket, comforting and secure. The way he had called her “Princesa.” the soft whisper of the word in her ear, had sealed her fate. She couldn’t deny him, not when he looked at her like that, as if she was the only person in the world.

Now, as she made her way to the bleachers, she could feel the weight of the stares on her back. The jersey, with “Gavi” written across the back in bold letters, felt like a spotlight, drawing everyone’s eyes to her. She tugged at the hem again, her fingers fidgeting nervously as she tried to calm her nerves, but her efforts were hopeless.

Sliding into an empty seat near the front, Y/n noticed that the other girlfriends were already there, chatting and laughing as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Their perfectly styled hair and fashionable outfits made her feel even more out of place, her nerves gnawing at her confidence. She focused on adjusting the jersey once more, trying to blend in, though she knew it was a useless effort.

That was when one of the girls leaned over, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder, a friendly smile on her face. “You’re Y/n, right?” she asked, her tone light and playful.

Y/n nodded, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The girl’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she looked Y/n up and down, her gaze lingering on the oversized jersey. “They’re not staring at you because of how big it is, silly. They’re staring at the name on it.”

Y/n blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. “Oh.” she mumbled, glancing around at the curious eyes still lingering on her. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Hasn’t his previous girlfriends worn his jersey before?”

The girl, whose name she vaguely recalled as Mikky, snorted, shaking her head. “No, he didn’t let them. He told them that he’d only let his future wife wear it.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mikky’s smile widened, and she winked at Y/n. “You heard me. It looks like you’re special, Y/n. He must really care about you.”

Y/n felt her blush deepen, her mind spinning with the revelation. She hadn’t realized the significance of wearing Pablo’s jersey, hadn’t thought it would mean anything more than just a show of support. But now, knowing that he had reserved this gesture for someone he truly saw a future with, she felt a warmth spread through her chest, a mix of happiness and nervousness.

Before she could fully process Mikky’s words, the stadium erupted in cheers as the players began to take the field. The atmosphere shifted, the tension rising as the match was about to begin. Y/n’s eyes were immediately drawn to Pablo, her heart swelling with pride as she watched him step onto the pitch. He moved with such grace and skill, every touch of the ball drawing cheers from the crowd.

But every now and then, he would glance up at the stands, his eyes scanning the sea of faces until they found hers. When they did, he would smile, an intimate, knowing smile that made her heart flutter and her worries fade away. His gaze lingered on her, the connection between them clear even across the distance.

“He’s been looking for you.” Mikky teased, nudging Y/n gently with her elbow. “You’ve got him completely smitten.”

Y/n bit her lip, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I think I’m the one who’s smitten.” she admitted quietly, her eyes never leaving Pablo.

Mikky chuckled. “It’s mutual, trust me.”

As the match progressed, Y/n found herself getting lost in the game, her initial nervousness melting away. She cheered along with the crowd, her heart racing with every close call and every brilliant play Pablo made. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride each time his name echoed through the stadium, the cheers of the fans a testament to his talent.

And through it all, she wore that jersey with a newfound confidence. Because now, she knew it wasn’t just a piece of fabric she was wearing, it was a symbol of Pablo’s feelings for her, a silent promise of what will be.

-----

As the final whistle echoed through the stadium, signaling Barcelona’s victory, the crowd erupted in a deafening cheer. The entire arena buzzed with the energy of triumph, the roars of fans rising in waves, but for Y/n, the noise around her seemed to fade into the background. All she could focus on was one thing, Pablo Gavira.

He was still on the field, surrounded by his teammates, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders as they celebrated the hard fought win. Yet, even in the midst of the celebration, Pablo’s eyes were searching for something or rather someone. When they finally found hers, a confident smile spread across his face, the joy of victory tempered by an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. There was something different in his gaze, something deep, almost possessive, that made her heart race.

As she made her way to the edge of the field, her heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and nerves. The other girlfriends were heading down as well, their steps light and easy, but Y/n felt like she was walking on air, her emotions bubbling up inside her. She still couldn’t shake the feeling of the jersey she was wearing, its oversized fabric hanging loosely off her frame, the name “Gavi” written boldly on her back. But the secret meaning of it, a revelation only she and a few others knew, made her heart flutter.

Just as she reached the sideline, Pablo broke away from his teammates and jogged toward her, his movements fluid and determined. The sight of him, all raw energy and focused, made her breath catch in her throat. And when he finally reached her, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow down. With a swift, determent motion, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, the sudden contact leaving her breathless.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to see you wearing this.” he murmured, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear, sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

Y/n’s breath hitched as his hand tightened slightly on her waist, his touch sending sparks across her skin. “I’m glad you like it.” she managed to reply, her voice a bit shaky from the proximity and the intensity of his gaze.

“Like it?” Pablo chuckled, the sound deep and rich, vibrating against her. “I love it, princesa. You’re mine, and now everyone knows it.” His words, laced with possessiveness, sent a thrill through her, and he brushed his lips against the shell of her ear, teasing her with a barely-there kiss that made her knees feel weak.

She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, her heart racing. “Pablo, I—”

He silenced her with a finger to her lips, his eyes darkening with an emotion that made her pulse quicken. “Shh, I know.” he whispered, his voice filled with a confidence that sent a thrill through her. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Before she could respond, Pablo captured her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a claiming, a declaration, filled with a passion that left her breathless. His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, pressing her even closer to him, and she melted into his embrace, her hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

The world around them seemed to fade away, the cheers of the crowd, the flash of cameras, all of it dimming as Y/n lost herself in the feel of him, in the intensity of his kiss. His lips moved against hers with a hunger that made her heart race, her body responding instinctively to the heat of his touch.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were blazing, and he let out a low, satisfied growl. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to show the world the woman who I want to spend forever with” he said, his voice rough with emotion, his breath mingling with hers.

Y/n felt like she was floating, her mind spinning from the intensity of his kiss. “Pablo…” she whispered, still catching her breath, her hands still resting on his shoulders as if she couldn’t bear to let go.

He grinned, that confident, almost cocky smile returning as he leaned down to place a series of soft kisses along her jawline, moving slowly toward her lips again. “I’m not done with you yet.” he teased, his voice dropping an octave as he kissed her just at the corner of her mouth, deliberately holding back, his lips hovering dangerously close.

She let out a small, involuntary whimper, her hands tightening around his shoulders. “Pablo, you’re teasing me.” she accused, though the breathlessness in her voice gave her away.

He chuckled again, the sound deep and full of mischief. “Maybe.” he admitted, his lips brushing against hers again, but this time he didn’t pull away. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her forget everything but the feel of him, the way he held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Pablo rested his forehead against hers, his expression softening, though the intensity in his gaze remained. “I want you by my side, Y/n. Always.” he said, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I’m not letting you go.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she looked up at him, her eyes shining with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere.” she promised, her voice steady despite the rush of feelings inside her. There was a certainty in her words, a truth that resonated deep within her.

Pablo’s smile softened, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and determination, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before wrapping her in a tight embrace, his arms encircling her waist, holding her close. “Good.” he whispered against her hair, his voice filled with relief and contentment. “Because I need you with me, mi amor.”

As the crowd around them began to fade, the other players and their girlfriends leaving the field, Pablo kept his arm around Y/n’s waist, leading her off the pitch with a sense of pride and ownership. They walked together, their fingers intertwined, and every now and then, he would steal a kiss, his lips brushing against hers with a playful, teasing touch that made her giggle softly, her heart light and full.

“You know.” Pablo said as they exited the stadium, his voice filled with that confident edge again, a playful glint in his eyes, “I think I’m going to need you to wear my jersey to every game from now on. It’s lucky, after all.”

Y/n laughed, the sound light and full of joy, a sound that made Pablo’s heart swell. “Only if you promise to keep winning.” she teased back, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him.

He pulled her close, his lips ghosting over her ear as he whispered, “I’ll win as long as you’re by my side, princesa.”

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Requested by: Anonymous

[finalgirlminamurray]

i know people who are into horror talk about this all the time but the experience of being a kid and reading descriptions of and seeing ads for horror movies without actually being able to watch them and imagining what the film must be like in your head is truly unmatched. i think for a lot of us we're always going to be subconsciously chasing the high of what we imagined those super scary movies for grown-ups to be based on what little we knew about them, no matter how good or effective the actual movies turn out to be once we finally get a chance to watch them

i remember when i was 10 and insidious had just come out and i was reading a review of it in entertainment weekly (a magazine my parents got but allowed me to read and i felt very sophisticated reading discussions of adult media i would rarely even have an interest in watching myself) and they made it sound soooo cool and scary and exciting and i was like i HAVE to see this movie. not now of course because it's rated r and i am a mere child who should not be watching such things. but when i'm old enough (it's not even r it's pg-13). i built this movie up for myself so much based on a brief review that only mentioned a few of the scary things in it. anyway then like 9 years later i see insidious is on netflix and i'm like oh hey it's that movie i really wanted to see when i was 10. i guess i'm old enough now. and i watched it and it was fine. like it was alright, pretty decent as far as 2010s haunted house movies go. it might not have helped that i'd recently watched poltergeist for the first time and my impression of insidious was largely "this is just poltergeist but not as good", but it was okay. nothing like what i'd imagined as a kid though

i only have dim memories of our local blockbuster being open (it closed down around the same time, when i was maybe 10-11 years old) but i still got to have the formative experience of being very young and wandering into the r-rated section and pulling out dvd covers to marvel at the imagery. at the time it was probably mostly shitty cgi-laden 2000s horror but not like that mattered, it was still my introduction to movie covers that evoke a terrifying experience that is probably much better than the actual movie. (could not tell you any specifics, i was really little.) similarly, though, another ew issue i saw as a kid had some retrospective of various creature features (maybe for a jaws anniversary?) and i was googling all these very evocative posters and delighting myself with the imagined horrors within based on the brief plot summary you'd get from the first part of the wikipedia article, and it was for like. lake placid and deep blue sea

of course i like being able to actually watch whatever i want now, but i do sometimes miss those days of allowing movie marketing to work on me.