#also to be clear this is not directed at AUs that are meant to be unhealthy

[justawrites]

Unpopular opinion but I see a lot of AUs where Nari and Lamb Should Not Get Together. Like I see a lot of AUs where Nari or Lamb should straight up run away. Like. Unless you are going for unhealthy, toxic and/or unhinged (which is perfectly fine and can be fun) it's set up like an abuse victim falling for their abuser. Not every AU has to be romantic to be fun.

Thaaaat being said I'm definitely not here to tell people how to live their lives. I will just turn the other way. I don't fancy following these AUs which means they're not for me and that's fine! I'm sure I write things that aren't other people's speed so, live and let live.

[milfbrainrot]

have always been a bit more neutral to timebomb but it has rly surprisingly grown on me so much ;-; i think i do see it more from the tragedy angle and maybe more one-sided. i'm not sure jinx has ever been in a place to reciprocate the feelings i'm sure ekko has, but it is nice to think about for years down the line and in terms of what could have been.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Knowing

I have just had the worst, or best, brainwave and I need to share it. 

Here is an AU for you.

Vader thinks that he killed his wife and child, right?

Right up until he meets little Leia Organa when she is 10 years old. Like his one brain cell woke the fuck up when he was confronted with a passionate, angry little girl with Padme’s eyes and his chin. This is maybe a month after she was kidnapped and returned to Alderaan. Leia decides that she would need to learn how to be a senator and insists that Bail takes her with him to the next session of the imperial senate.  

Bail does not want to bring her to the imperial senate. However he knows very well who her birth parents were, it is either Bail brings Leia to the Imperial Senate or Leia brings Leia to the Imperial Senate, probably bringing with her someone she really shouldn’t (Like actual Obi Wan Kenobi-I just want you to picture for a moment, because Bail certainly did, looking up and realizing that Leia is charging down the halls outside his office, dragging with her a bemused and sandy Obi Wan, both in badly conceived disguises).

Bail is super stressed as he tries to run a rebellion while riding herd on his well meaning but very direct 10 year old daughter on top of his normal duties as an imperial senator. Bail is also very afraid that the moment the Emperor sees Leia, he will make the connection between Leia and Padme Amidala (The emperor does not socialize with the senate any longer, thank the stars). He has no idea that Vader was once Anakin Skywalker, so has no cause to be more careful than normal (because Vader) about Vader seeing Leia. As such Bail does not even notice when Vader stops to consider them from the shadows. Leia is haranguing another planet’s senatorial aide who had chosen the wrong moment to make a bigoted joke. 

Vader is very abruptly, though mentally, thrown back to this very hallway 12 years earlier where he watched his wife do the same thing, for the same reason, possibly to this same aide. Though Leia is still a child and Padme was an adult, he can still see his wife in this little girl.

The realization that this is Padme’s child hits him with the force of a Ventanor. Followed immediately, before he even realized that this meant that his child was standing in front of him, by the soul deep knowledge that she must be protected from the Emperor at all costs. 

Vader had known for years that his suit had been designed to cause him more pain, he just thought he deserved it. The thought of Palpatine getting ahold of Padme’s daughter was abhorrent. Vader sticks to the shadows and watches, seeing how well Bail loved and protected Leia. 

While he is thinking(read Obsessing) about his daughter, the part of him that is always centered on Obi Wan points out that his old master had been one of the last people to see Padme after Vader choked her. But the little voice that spoke in Padme’s tones piped up, the shock of Leia living being enough to finally make this little voice loud enough to be heard, saying that until recently Obi Wan believed that Anakin Skywalker was all the way dead, he was protecting their child as best as he knew how. 

And Vader has issues with just about every choice Obi Wan Kenobi ever made. But he will admit that hiding Padme’s daughter was the best option. 

As Vader knows that paying too much attention to Leia would draw the Emperor’s attention, he would be willing to wait until the right moment to get his daughter back. His one concession to his need to protect her was taking one of his personal guard, one of the few units still made up almost entirely of clones, and assigning them to be Leia Organa’s bodyguard, her shadow (I also want you to take a moment to consider what that did for Bail’s stress level).  And then Vader gets to planning. 

With his one brain cell awake and focused on the Organa’s it takes Vader all of 15 minutes to realize that Bail Organa is running the Rebellion (I want it to be clear, this is not a slight on Bail at all, Anakin Skywalker was a war general, well educated through the Jedi on a number of subjects, and does have a fair measure of politics learning from both his former master and his dead wife).  However Vader is no more loyal to the Empire than Anakin was to the Republic.  In fact, upon realizing that Padme’s daughter had lived Vader firmly decided that he needed to find a way to kill Palpatine to crown Leia.  With the realization that Bail, and likely Leia (neither Vader nor Anakin have any idea what activities are appropriate for a 10 year old), are part of the Rebellion, Vader decides that The Rebellion would succeed (or everyone would die trying). 

Note: Vader only really gets away with no one realizing that he now supported the Rebellion because, well, no one can quite believe that Darth Vader supports the Rebellion. Most people think there is a new type of Space Madness, and that one of the symptoms is hallucinating Darth Vader giving you intel for the Rebellion.

By the time Leia was a teenager, rumors abound about the odd way that Vader acted around her. By sheer happenstance (and some judicial violence on Vader’s part) these rumors had never reached the Emperor. A good deal of these rumors implied that Vader was looking to the Princess of Alderaan as a wife.  The reaction Vader had, the only time it was brought up in front of him, was…impressive, even for the amount of violence he normally dealt out. Still there are members of Vader’s personal guard who watch over Leia whenever she is on Imperial Center, and no one wants to repeat the time when she was 12 when one of Bail enemies tried to kidnap her for ransom.  It took an entire corps of engineers to put those levels back to rights (after they scrubbed the blood off).  

So we get all the way up to the timeframe of ANH. The Death Star in this does not start out under the control of Darth Vader. It starts out under the control of Tarkin, it is important to note this. Leia still sends out R2D2 and C3P0 to find Obi Wan Kenobi, none of that part changes. 

It is after Leia is captured that Darth Vader shows up (does he lurk silently in any system that Leia is due to be in as often as he can get away with…why yes, yes he does). Tarkin had wanted Leia tortured, however no one wanted to find out how many decks Vader would spread their entrails across for touching her.  Vader arrives on the bridge just as Tarkin is threatening to blow up Alderaan. Tarkin orders the weapon to begin its charge. 

Leia, Leia who is so like her mother in that she will use every weapon in her arsenal, turns to Darth Vader and speaks to him for the first time. ‘Please’ she said, no effort to hide her distress, ‘please save my planet’

Something Leia had no cause to know-An angel who she resembled once thanked Anakin Skywalker for saving her planet. 

Tarkin is dead almost before she finishes speaking. Vader orders the DS weapons to power down and disengage, which is done post haste. Then announces that Leia Organa was now in control. 

So Leia now owns a Death Star (genuine article-never used). Leia is not sure if that is how this works, but no one is arguing with the tall man in black who has OPINIONS and will enforce them.  Leia manages to communicate this to her parents, who take a shuttle up to the space station to figure out what the fuck is going on, and what, if anything, they need to do next.

Two hours later: Obi Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, R2D2, C3P0, and Chewbacca have just been caught trying to sneak onto the Death Star. The Organas are still on board, trying to get answers (In that time Vader has said precisely five words to them ‘You have raised her well’).  It is to this room that the troopers manning the station (who are deeply confused and a bit conflicted because it seems like they may have all been forcibly defected from the Empire, but no one is willing to disobey Lord Vader) bring Obi Wan and co. and present them to Leia, as she is considered in command.  Somehow Luke’s full name (I kind of picture him still dumbly introducing himself to Leia, followed with ‘we’re here to rescue you’) gets used before the situation deteriorates. Which naturally causes everything to deteriorate further and faster than before.  

Far away on Imperial Center, the Emperor pauses in the middle of a hallway ‘I feel’ he says to no one ‘a disturbance in the Force.’ another pause ‘like some shit has just hit the fan’

Far away on Dagobah Yoda looks up, ‘weird, shit just got’

[inkedells]

look at me a little more | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

A/N: first of all, SMUTTT so much smut up ahead. holy crap this is the longest thing i've ever written (pathetic, i know, blame the commitment issues) enjoy lovies!! also lmk if you want a part 2 maybe possibly!?

m!dni | requests open.

summary: dbf!neighbor!joel accidentally drenches you (virgin!reader) while washing his car and you can’t help but notice the way he eyes you up. it’s only once he’s in your bedroom, fixing your closet door as an apology, that you realize the best person to rid you of your virginity and teach you precisely how to please yourself and others had been right in front of you the whole time; it's getting joel on board with the whole idea that's the hard part.

word count: 5.5k

tags/warnings: SMUTTTT, virgin!reader, dbf!neighbor!joel faces moral conflicts (to fuck or not to fuck!?!?), porn with plot, sooo much tension, dirty talk, use of pet names, blowjobs, handjobs, cumplay, reader eats joel's cum, grinding, making out, oral sex, no!outbreak au, reader's innocent in the sense that she doesn't really know how to do a lot of things when it comes to sex but still has a ton of desires

masterlist

There was a certain shame that came with being infatuated with your dad’s best friend.

You were sitting around on the porch on a hot summer afternoon, wearing your shortest cotton shorts as you sipped the juice box brand you had loved since you were a little girl. Legs crossed, foot tapping the air, and most importantly, eyes absolutely trained on the ripple of Joel Miller’s biceps as he washed his car.

You didn’t know why you liked to stare at him so much. But you did know it was wrong. Immoral. Eyeing up someone in their forties? What was wrong with you? That was your dad’s best f—

“Hey, Mr. Miller!” You called over, shutting down every ounce of doubt in your mind.

He turned around without hesitation, and when he did, you waved. The first time you’d done that, he had to work a little harder to figure out the source of the voice, eyes searching in random directions before finally settling on you. But now, it was like he knew exactly where to look—And, well, that was all it took for you to decide you would be spending the next hour washing a car if it meant spending time with Joel.

So you settled your juice box down on the wooden floor of the porch and skipped over to his house. He must not have heard your footsteps behind him over the sound of the hose, so your simple tap on his shoulder resulted in him whipping around, hose in hand, as he consequently drenched you.

You yelped, breaking out into nervous laughter both from shock and how cold the water was. Joel fumbled to turn off the hose as he began profusely apologizing. “Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry—”

Then he properly saw you. From Joel’s perspective, your clothes were reduced to translucency, practically melting into your skin.

But you didn’t know that. You never fully grasped just how vulnerable you had become from his accident, so when you caught him averting his gaze as quickly as he could, you were a little confused.

“You—Uh—I,” Joel stumbled before clearing his throat, “There’s clothes. Inside. Sarah’s. You can, um, you can go and… y’know. Change into them. Walkin’ all the way back to your house doesn’t seem like a… viable… option.”

By then, a blush had already risen to your cheeks just from how delicately Joel was treating you. As if you were something he had to be careful with, like if he didn’t think long and hard about every word coming out of his mouth, there would be consequences. 

“Lead the way.”

Joel gave you a firm smile before swallowing the lump in his throat and motioning for you to follow him as he walked. Once he had the front door open, he let you go in first. Even as you carefully walked past him, you could feel his eyes staring at you.

“Up there,” Joel gestured, “Um, first door on the left. I’ll… be outside.”

As he explained, you subconsciously scanned over the planes of his body—probably a habit you picked up from the multiple weeks of watching him work. But then he was turning to leave, and you could tell he was still really tense. You didn’t know why a simple accident had him so tripped up, but you had the urge to alleviate his worry.

“Hey,” You called, arms wrapped around yourself in an effort to stave off the cold. He turned around, concerned until he saw your soft smile and relaxed a little, “On a scale of one to ten, how sick and tired are you of washing that truck?”

There was only one way to break Joel out of his nervous state; you had to make the situation lighthearted; you learned that from years of watching him hang out with your dad.

He searched your eyes for a beat, eyes completely unwavering, before muttering, “Like a fifty.”

You both breathed a laugh at that. For the briefest moment, you thought you noticed Joel’s gaze flitting to your chest. Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could do a double take, his eyes were glued to yours again.

“So then,” You started, regathering yourself and pushing away whatever your brain was conjuring up, “How do you feel about replacing one lousy chore with another?”

“What kinda chore we talkin’?”

“Well, my closet door’s all screwed up. And you know, instead of apologizing for soaking me by way of expensive concert tickets and a brand new car, like how I know you were planning on doing—”

“—Oh, of course,” Joel sarcastically remarked, playing along as you quickly noticed the worry on his face faded into a crooked grin.

“Well, I really think I can just settle for the closet door fix. Go ahead and save the brand new car for when you break my toaster.”

“Okay, okay,” Joel laughed, “I get it. Go change, then you can lead me to this broken closet door.”

-

Sarah’s clothes definitely belonged to a fourteen-year-old. Not your taste, but then again, if you were fourteen like her, you probably would’ve dressed like that too.

You couldn’t settle on a top, all of them were either too small or bore a graphic design too childish for you. You did find a pair of stretchier shorts that fit alright though, so you decided you’d just pick up one of Joel’s shirts from the pile of clean laundry you saw sitting atop the washing machine downstairs.

When you made it out the front door, the hose was away and his toolbox was resting on the ground by his feet. Joel was drying up his car with a cloth, and when he heard you hop down the steps and subsequently turned your way, you weren’t exactly expecting him to completely stumble at the sight of you in his shirt.

“Oh—You, uh, I thought you were gettin’ Sarah’s clothes?”

“I was, none of her tops fit so I grabbed one of yours from the laundry downstairs.” You absorbed Joel’s cryptic reaction and began to worry. “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I really should’ve asked—”

“—No, no, it’s fine. Really. Doesn't matter.”

Joel picked up his toolbox, then the both of you began walking over to your house. It wasn’t that far away at all, probably a couple of hundred feet at most, but he opted into small talk anyway.

“Um,” Joel began, “What’d you come over for in the first place? Didn’t really get a chance to ask ‘cause of this whole… debacle.”

You giggled at his old man vocabulary. Debacle.

“I wanted to help with your car, but looks like those plans got derailed.”

He breathed a polite laugh. “Yeah, well. Guess it turned out that way.”

Before an awkward silence could fall upon the both of you, your brain settled on something to bring up.

“Hey, my dad’s having that July 4th barbecue the day after tomorrow. You’re coming right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, honey.”

Honey? Honey. Honey honey honey honey—

He cleared his throat. “Where is your dad, anyway?”

You were both standing on your porch now, Joel’s eyes raking you over as you fumbled with the front door.

“Um, I think he’s out working.”

“Great.”

Great?

Before you could ask him what he meant, Joel realized what he had said. “Wait, no, not great. I don’t—I don’t know why I said that. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You pushed the door open. “Hey,” You brought a hand up to his chest and patted it, “You’ll give yourself a heart attack if you keep assuming all your mistakes are colossal and worthy of that much panic.”

His shoulders seemed to relax a little at that—you weren’t sure if it was your hand or your words that did it.

Eventually, you both found yourselves in your bedroom. You were sitting on the edge of your bed as you watched Joel work. Kneeling on one knee with a screwdriver in hand, he fumbled with one of the closet door’s hinges as he muttered little things to himself under his breath.

“Thanks for this, Mr. Miller.”

He turned to you, nodding as he seemed to process that he was in your bedroom. Your bedroom.

“So,” Joel began, as he dug through his toolbox, “Is your boyfriend visiting too? Or, y’know, girlfriend. Three months is a long ti—”

You softly smiled. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend.”

He turned to look at you again as he turned a screwdriver, this time scanning you over. “Hm, I don’t believe you. Sweet thing like you? Single?”

“Oh, stop,” You blushed, shooing him off.

Joel stood to his feet, dusting his hands off on his thighs. “All fixed. Next time you ne—”

“—I’ve never been in a relationship before. Actually.”

Joel stared at you for a moment before diverting his gaze to the ground. “I, um…”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. You don’t wanna know about my completely nonexistent dating history,” You lightly smacked your forehead, “Wait, it’s existent if we count the boy I dated for a week in fourth grade.”

Joel laughed, sitting down next to you on your bed. “It’s okay. I haven’t really dated anybody since Sarah’s mom, either. Long-term, anyways.”

“Yeah, well at least you’re not a virgin.”

Joel seemed to tense at that, and you immediately regretted saying it.

“Oh gosh,” You cringed, hands gripping your head, “I really just say anything, don’t I?”

Joel chuckled, head hung between his shoulders with his eyes squinted shut. You eventually laughed, too, simply because—and you realized it sounded stupid—Joel’s laughter was contagious.

“Alright, alright,” Joel beckoned, “Lemme be serious for a second. C’mere.”

You slumped down next to him, staring up at the ceiling before turning to make eye contact.

“That’s not something you have to worry about. You got time, honey, you’re in college. All that crap about late blooming isn’t real. It’s about whenever you’re ready, and whenever you find the right person to do it with.”

You smiled up at him softly. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

“Joel. Just Joel.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. So you stayed like that, searching his eyes for something you didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

“Joel,” You echoed, repeating his name back to him, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“I, uh…” Joel trailed off, his gaze flitting down to your lips. “I…” He tried again, but it went nowhere.

You exhaled, and almost immediately, his hands cupped your face as he leaned forward and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to your lips.

It was warm, and gentle, and amazing, and you didn’t know if you could ever let him stop kissing you with how delightful the scruff of his beard felt against your skin.

He did break the kiss after a few seconds, though, and it left you breathless. “Joel…”

His muscles seemed to visibly tense as he mistook your speechless state for confusion. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why—”

“—No. No, I liked it,” You smiled softly at him, “I, um, you know. Wouldn’t mind if you kissed me… again.”

With reassurance that you weren’t absolutely appalled, his limbs relaxed. He leaned forward again until he was kissing you. Slow at first, languid. But then it turned fervent and desperate, breaths being exchanged into one another's mouths as lips slotted together like fingers intertwined—so perfect, as if they were biologically designed to do so.

It wasn’t long until he had your back flat against your bed, and you felt his growing hardness dig into your hip.

“Y’know what that is, don’t you?”

You nodded hesitantly.

“You know why it’s there?”

You shrugged.

He gripped the fabric of your—no, his—shirt as his voice rumbled, “You prancin’ around in my shirt did that.”

Without a second thought, you clumsily palmed him there through the thick fabric of his jeans and reveled in the consequential shuddering moan he let out

“Joel, I don’t… I don’t think I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay, honey, I’ll teach you.”

Propping himself up with his elbow, he placed his hand atop your own and guided the movements of your open palm. Things like pressing your hand further into him so as to increase the pressure between his legs, and encouraging back-and-forth motions that had his hips rutting and his breath hitching.

Once you got the hang of it, he removed his hand from your own. You felt his hand snake down your neck, then the side of your torso. 

“I trust you,” You whispered, fingers playing with the happy trail peaking Joel’s pants, hoping to absolve him of any guilt or doubt.

But the second Joel’s fingertips grazed the waistband of your shorts, he froze. He was staring off somewhere to the right, so you followed his gaze until you found what he was so disturbed by.

A framed photo on your nightstand, one of you standing next to your dad on vacation in Maui.

You understood immediately; that picture was an astute reminder of exactly who’s daughter Joel was about to debauch.

Your hand fell away from his crotch as he leaned back on his haunches and ran his hands through his hair with worried eyes.

“Joel?” You whispered, but then he was completely backing off of you as he muttered curses under his breath. “Hey, no, come back. What’s wrong?”

It was a dumb question. You knew what was wrong. Even though you were well beyond legal, it seemed to mean little in the situation—the facts were, if he touched you, it was betrayal.

“This is…” Joel panted, standing to his feet and raking his hands through his hair, “I shouldn’t have��� Fuck. Fuck. I have to go.”

And just like that, he was gone.

-

That night, your lights stayed on and you didn’t close your curtains.

You stripped yourself of Joel’s shirt first, going excruciatingly slow in case Joel happened to be watching through his neighboring window. You occasionally shot glances at his window on the off chance that the window illuminated, but you quickly realized if the two of you made eye contact that wouldn’t be good either. You’d gotten all the way down to your underwear before you spotted his light flick on from the corner of your eye.

So you did the first thing that came to mind; You turned your back to your window. Panties halfway down your legs, torso bent with your knees straightened as you slowly shed your clothing. Hoping. Hoping for him to avert his attention ever so slightly and accidentally catch you like this. Hoping he would think of it every time he talked to you.

Without ever making eye contact, you would never know if Joel actually saw anything, and he would never know you hadn’t actually “forgotten” to close your curtains.

No pressure on either of you.

You went to sleep with a hand shoved down the front of your panties as you thought of all the things you wanted Joel to do to you.

-

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Jesus. What time was it? You stretched until sleep left you and opened your eyes as wide as you could (not very wide at all). From what you could gather, the sun was definitely up. You, however, did not have the willpower required to read off of your phone screen 5 seconds after waking up, so you answered the phone without reading the contact.

“Hello?” You groaned, voice gruff from sleep.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

You knew that voice anywhere. Almost immediately, you shot upright and cleared your throat as you rubbed your eyes. “Oh, hey Mr. Mill—uh, I mean, Joel,” You breathed a nervous laugh before remembering his question, “No. No, it’s okay I was like, basically awake already, um, so… what’s up? Why’d you—Why’d you call?”

“Right, so just to preface, I understand things are not... ideal... between us right now. But to be honest, you’re the only person available who I trust with this, and… let me just explain. I got called into work unexpectedly and Sarah’s gonna be home alone. Lately, she’s been getting into these rebellious fits, and I just don’t want to risk another situation where she sneaks out at night to meet up with her boyfriend again.”

“Sarah and rebellious fits? Really?”

“Yes, believe it or not. So do you think you could just hang around my place for, to be honest, a long while? It’s looking like I’m gonna be home really late tonight. Oh, and I can pay you.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re not paying me.”

Joel exhaled appreciatively through the phone. “Okay, well I’m home right now if you wanna come by and eat some breakfast. Least I could do. I gotta leave in like thirty minutes by the way, so. Take your time but also don’t take your time?”

You smiled, hoping he could hear it in your voice. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks, honey.”

Oh god. There it was again. You thought you might actually pass out, but you quickly turned off your racing brain enough to mutter a small “mhm” before abruptly hanging up.

Okay. Joel Miller. Your dad’s best friend, who was this close to absolving you of every ounce of innocence in your body… just asked you to watch his daughter. What could go wrong?

When you got to his house, he had left already (you definitely took too long in the shower). He did leave out a plate of food, though, along with the message, “Thanks again. Enjoy the pancakes,” scratched out on a post-it note.

And boy did it turn out to be a long day. Sarah wasn’t that much of a handful, she mostly took care of herself. The hard part was lunch.

You attempted to cook something for the two of you, but it only ended in disaster when you left the quiches in the oven for too long. Then you decided Penne a la Vodka couldn’t be that hard, and you couldn't be more wrong. A whole box of pasta was ruined because Sarah didn’t realize the pasta went in after the water boiled, not before. Eventually, you both just accepted defeat and ordered Panera Bread.

Later, Sarah popped into the living room to let you know she was going up to her room to take a nap, and you figured you’d do the same on the couch.

The last thing you read was the time on the cable box; 7:37.

-

Metal clanking. The turn of a key. The creaking of a door. The blaring siren of an alarm system.

“Jesus—Fuck. I thought I told her to turn off the alarm at 8.”

And Joel’s voice.

You jolted awake, blinking wide as you moved to sit upright on the couch. The time on the cable box was 11:50.

Soon, the alarm stopped, and not long after, Joel’s figure came into view. He was wearing a denim button-up with work pants and work boots.

“Hey,” Joel called, setting his things down next to the kitchen island.

“Hi,” You replied, “How was work?”

Joel gave you a polite smile before pulling open the refrigerator door to retrieve a beer. With his head still poked inside the fridge, he replied, “The usual.”

“Well, what was the usual li—”

“—Were you asleep?”

“Uh…" You cleared your throat in an effort to stall as you debated whether or not you would lie. "Yeah, I was. Sorry.”

Joel took a swig of his beer, staring at you from across the room for a minute before blurting out, “The usual is busy. Extremely busy and tedious. But, um, how was Sarah? Hope you weren’t asleep too long.”

“Nope,” You lied, “I Wasn’t asleep long at all. Sarah was great. We had a bit of trouble with lunch, but everything ended up fine.”

“Good. Good. Well you can head out now, thanks for taking care of her.”

No. You did not want to "head out." You rose to your feet. “Joel?”

He looked around as he swallowed his beer. “Uh, yeah?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you. About yesterday.”

He peered down at the ground, swishing around the bottle in his hand. “That’s—That’s okay, honey. I think it’s best we forget that happened.”

“What? But why?”

Joel crossed the room and sat down next to you, leaning back against the couch while you sat back down on the edge with your elbows resting on your knees.

“Come on,” He started, “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly why we’re… this… is impossible.”

“Joel, I—”

“—I’m sorry. You should get home now.”

You turned around to face him. “Joel. No one has to know.” 

“As I said, I’m sorry. I handled yesterday… terribly. There were a million different ways to go about that, and I somehow chose the worst one. But we don't work. We can't work.”

You felt your eyes begin to water, but you tried to push the feeling down.

“Hey, hey,” He lulled, the hardness of his attitude falling away as he noticed the sad shine in your eyes, “Don’t cry.” He pulled you against him, rubbing your shoulder firmly.

“Joel,” You mumbled in a small voice, sniffling against his denim shirt with a frown.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to justify what he was quickly realizing was inevitable. You were an adult, somebody else independent of your father. It was your choice who to get involved with, just like it was his. This was mutual.

He knew he would regret it later, but your innocence and desperation allured him to the point of no return.

“It’s late,” Joel began, voice gentle as he offered you one last out, “You should go home. You need sleep, you’re not thinking straight. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“No,” You replied, removing yourself from his body so you could look him in the eye. “I don’t want to leave. I want you to… I want you to do what you said you’d do.”

Knowing exactly what you were talking about, he redundantly asked in a whisper, “And what’s that?”

You wiped a stray tear as you clumsily moved to straddle his lap. Almost automatically, his hands found their way to your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the slivers of skin peeking between your cami tank top and the waistband of your shorts. But it seemed at some point his consciousness realized what he was doing because his hands suddenly dropped to his sides. And, well, you just wouldn’t have that, so you grabbed hold of his wrists and returned them to where they were settled on your hips before you rested your own hands on Joel’s chest.

“You remember, don’t you?” You shifted in his lap, “You said you’d teach me.”

“How to have sex.” He said it more like a confirmation rather than a question.

You blushed at his blatant use of the word. It was like every fifth thing coming out of his mouth was sending your brain spiraling. You cleared your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, sex. Blowjobs, orgasms, literal sex. All of it.”

Silence for a beat. “I have one condition,” Joel warned.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“The second I suspect your dad is onto us, that’s it. It’s over. No more messing around, none of it. I can’t lose my best friend.”

You nodded. You probably shouldn’t have agreed so easily, but you didn’t actually think you and Joel would ever get caught.

“Okay, then,” Joel whispered. “Good. What do you wanna do first? Start off easy.”

You looked around the room nervously, careful not to make eye contact as you spoke. “Like. I dunno. Maybe for right now, I could just… touch you. Touch it, I mean.”

Joel nodded, and when your breathing began to grow the slightest bit uneven from nervousness, he noticed and rubbed your upper arm reassuringly. “Hey. Relax. Climb down and sit right there on the ground between my legs, and I’ll show you where to start.”

And so you did. Joel peered down at you with heavy lids as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and thus began your first lesson.

“Unbuckle my pants.”

With shaky hands, you removed his belt and undid his fly. You couldn’t explain why, but as soon as you caught sight of the bulge in his boxers, your mouth watered.

“What…” You began, “What now?”

“Whatever feels comfortable.”

With a light, feathery touch, you delicately traced a singular finger along the outline of his cock. Joel shivered at the contact, hands shooting to grip the sofa. Touching it felt different this time, more intense because you could feel every ridge and vein; you blamed it on the much thinner fabric dividing your fingers and his cock.

Your breath shuddered before speaking, “Can I take it ou—”

“—Yes, God, yes.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling downwards until his cock sprang free. It was thick, long, and wet at the tip, and you found yourself instinctively leaning further into it.

“Okay,” Joel sighed shakily, “Now just form a circle with your fingers and stroke it.”

You did as Joel said, and when your fingers finally made contact with his cock, you sighed at how velvety the skin was there. Soft and smooth, except for the trimmed hair surrounding the base. You stroked him steadily, biting your lip as you watched the wetness leaking from his tip spread down his shaft.

“Twist at the tip, honey, twist at the—Yeah, just like that. So good, you’re doing so good.” You couldn’t help but smile when Joel tilted his head back from the pleasure of it all.

With Joel still reeling from the contact of your hand, you took his momentary refusal to look down at you as an opportunity to surprise him a little.

You leaned forward and kitten-licked his tip, and it had him finally making eye contact with you as he whispered, “Oh, do that again.”

And so you did, adoring the look of pleasure strewn across Joel’s face.

Joel offered you a quick, crooked grin. “How’s it feel?” He asked, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip as your tongue played with his tip.

You pulled away for a moment to respond, “How’s what feel?”

“Licking a man’s cock.”

You let the spit that had gathered in your mouth drip down onto his length. “I have the urge to do more with it.”

“Like what?”

“Like put it all the way in my mouth.”

And so kitten licks turned into long stripes up his shift, which turned into eager suckling on his tip, which turned into forcing his cock down as far as it could go without making you gag.

Joel’s hand gripped the back of your head, but he never pushed you down. Whenever you did accidentally end up gagging, he petted your hair, mumbling encouragements as best he could through the blinding pleasure. Things like, “Yeah, honey, doing so good. That’s it. Just a little more. Mhm.” And his affectionate nature, his gentleness, his reassuring words—he was exactly how you hoped he would be like. Not to mention, the general hotness of it all had your hips canting down against nothing, in desperate search of relief.

“M’close, sweetheart. Take it—Take it out.”

“I don’t wanna,” You replied in a hoarse voice as you jacked him off.

“You’re not ready for that, honey, just take it out. Take it out.”

You reluctantly complied, removing him from the tight heat of your mouth, drool dripping down your chin as you stroked him rapidly.

“Joel, I… I think I’m wet.”

He moaned a curse at that, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths as his orgasm approached him. “Jesus f-fuckin’… Tell me more.”

“I need you to touch it for me next time. Please. Maybe you could… Maybe you could put your mouth on it like how I put my mouth on you.”

“Yes, yes, oh fuck, I’m cumming, don’t stop stroking it,” Joel moaned, hot white spurts shooting up and all over your hand as you stroked him through it.

With his breathing still labored, he panted out in a high voice, “You’re lying. You’re f-fucking lying. Tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“This isn’t—You’ve done this before. No way you made me cum this hard and it’s your first time.”

“Well,” You breathed a nervous laugh, “That’s flattering. But you’re my first. Trust me.”

When his orgasm fully subsided, Joel lay slumped against the sofa with his legs spread wide. You remained between them with your head resting on his thigh as you just stared at his cock. Took it all in, every curve, every vein, and inevitably, the cum that spurted itself over the surrounding area.

“What are you doing?” Joel chuckled, petting your hair as you smiled.

“I’m… I don’t know really. I just can’t stop looking at it.”

But then curiosity got the best of you, and you began to drag your fingers through the mess at his base. It caught Joel off-guard, his entire body stiffening as he watched you.

“What does it taste like?” You asked quietly as you examined the cum on your fingers. 

“Oh my god,” Joel groaned through his labored breathing, “I swear, if you do what I think you’re about to do, I’ll be hard again in five seconds.”

“I’ll take my chances,” You joked, bringing your finger to your mouth and licking it clean, ultimately wincing at the taste. “It’s like, bitter. And salty. And kinda sweet. But mostly bitter and salty. To be honest, it’s kinda nasty but I can see myself getting used to it.”

“Wow,” Joel sighed, “You just really know how to set the mood. Make things real romantic.”

“Oh, shut it,” You huffed, playfully swatting his thigh before getting up and plopping down next to him on the sofa as he got to work stuffing himself back into his pants despite the mess he made—that was a problem for future Joel. 

“Gonna miss you, little Joel,” You joked to his crotch.

“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Joel chuckled painfully with his fists in his eyes. “I’m never letting you near ‘little Joel’ again.”

“Mm, no, because I just made you cum so hard you thought I was lying about being a virgin.”

He sighed at that. “You got me there.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

You both laughed at that; In fact, you both were laughing a lot. And at everything. In your head, you blamed it on the ecstatic high of being in each other’s presence this way.

When the mutual laughter died down, Joel looked at you for a moment, admiring you. Then, slow and hesitant as ever, he leaned in to kiss you.

“Do you taste it?” You whispered, breaking the kiss as you fought another giggle.

“Yes, actually. Wait, don’t say it please, this is actually a nice moment—”

“—Your cum!” You loud-whispered.

Another sigh. “My cum.”

You eagerly kissed him back after that, swearing off mood-breaking jokes for the rest of the night. Eventually, you even became too tired to kiss, simply letting your forehead rest against his. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand snaked up your leg and inched under the leg of your shorts, using force to push your legs open wider.

“Need me to take care of this?” He asked into your mouth before letting his kisses travel down to your neck.

“Joel,” You breathed, breaths beginning to come out in rapid succession as your hips gyrated in response to how dangerously close Joel’s hand was to your pussy. “I… I’m tired.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do a thing,” Joel breathed, removing his hand from beneath your shorts in order to pull down the waistband. “It’s a yes or no question. Just give me a yes or a no.”

Your breath hitched as you opened your eyes and stared at the little bit of empty space left between you and Joel. The throbbing between your legs was bad, but it was something about the delayed gratification of saving things for later that stopped you from saying yes. “No, I… I think that’s it for tonight.”

Joel withdrew his hand, reassuringly cracking a brief smile. “Hey, uh, spend the night. It’s way too late, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but what about Sarah?” 

“I came home super late, you fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

You thought about it for a second before agreeing. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you. But I’m taking the couch.”

“What? No—”

“—Joel. I’m taking the couch.”

He looked at you skeptically but then agreed. “If you change your mind just let me know.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

Joel squeezed your leg before getting up and making his way to the stairs. “Goodnight.”

masterlist

A/N: strikethrough means i can't tag you, check your settings

taglist:

@basicoccult @myhusband2cool @fleuraimer @chunguk @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucufifluclu @pintsizedsunshine @s1eepy-bear @daddysuperduperlonglegs @worhols @evyiione @criesside @saph-cyare

@gswizzsstuff @baloobalee @gessmiller05 @trynasurvivelol @yazsos @marchai @pompii @alyssa1216 @daddy-din @msmagix4 @blooming-bubs @huffle-punk @whorrorain @iliketoeatstrawberrypocky @onlineplant @totallynotastanacc @hiddenbabynyc @thedoctorofpoop @kamcrazy123 @afterglowsb-tch13

@redplaidedandcladed @simping-soldat @martyluvsu @mingiast @teddybonkers1960 @brittmb15 @ellswilliams @laurasunsole @senaar-ika @whore4ellie @harrysbitvh123 @atremises @silkiers @bbyanarchist @pawnshopbluess222 @https-hann @cassiesolos @xanqels @jawgrinder

@daylighthrry @victoriamay1357 @jeezkiddo @its-spooky-these-days @pedro-luvr @chibimosa @sagethephantom @loathsome-gargoyle @alejaa-a @greenclues @june-julie @spenciesprincess @donttamethebeasts @alec0 @djarinsimp 

[potatomountain]

Puppy Play Time

2024 Kinktober piece! Masterlist

The request by @bethelighthalazia Soo, I'd have a request for your kinktober if you're comfortable with such 🥺👉👈 I'd like to request petplay with collars and leash and stuff :3 for fem reader with Yunho and Mingi. It's up to you, if her being their pet is everyday roleplay between them (meaning reader behaving like their pet 24/7) or if it's just for their sex/bdsm sessions <3 And @mingsolo requested: Mingi catching Yunho in the act with reader and either Yunho knows and invites him in or he just watches

Pairing: Yunho/Mingi x fem reader WC: 1k AU: sugar daddy's Yungi! non-idol Summary: More of a sugar pet than baby, YunGi adore their sweet puppy- especially when they take out their frustrations out on you anytime they wish. Event Kink list: Voyeurism, threesome, pet play, bondage, free use Warnings/smut (cont): DP, anal, mxm, collar/leash, adult toys AN: I know its two requests but i figured I could make them work together (its also easier on me lol) Honorable tags: @mirohs-aurora-society for the Kinktober event list! Banner and dividers made by me

The sounds of moans, grunts, and the bed hitting the wall was what greeted Mingi when he got home. Considering it was upstairs, and he heard it all loud and clear from the front door, he knew Yunho was being rough on you.

Which either meant he would get punished for interrupting, or you were being punished and he could join in. On the chance it was the latter he found himself heading upstairs and loosening his clothes.

“Such a good pet you are, taking my cock so well.” Yunho’s grunts were followed by the slap of skin and a mangled cry of yours. “That's it, take it puppy.”

Mingi's breath hitched at the sight of you, tears running down your cheeks and drool on your chin. Yunho had your arms pulled back, holding them by the wrists as he pounded relentlessly into you. The collar around your throat was being tugged harshly by the leash wrapped around one of Yunho's hands, the veins prominent from the strain. You were completely immobilized by him, taking his cock like the good puppy you were.

Their puppy.

He found himself palming at his crotch, eager to go in there and use your pretty mouth; see you choking on his size. But Yunho was in a mood, and Mingi knew better than to join without permission. If he was frustrated enough, which judging by the growing bruises on your hips and ass he was, then he'd let him join. Mingi was sure of it.

Must have had a hard day at work. Mingi mused to himself as he pulled out his hard cock, gripping the base with the strength he imagined your pussy would be gripping Yunho. As if willing it, Yunho's head rolled back as he let out a low groan. You had gone quiet, mouth hanging open and eyes rolled back telling Mingi you really did just cum on his cock.

Yunho pulled out before he would cum, cock angry and red; the sight made Mingi's mouth water.

Slapping your ass, Yunho roughly let you go as your body shook from your orgasm. “Bad puppy, I didn't say you could cum. Now you don't get your milk.”

You whined pathetically, which had Mingi stroking his cock now. He hoped to be noticed, or maybe he could settle with just his hand until Yunho calmed down. No- no he wanted to join.

Your eyes flickered over to his direction at the moan he purposely let fall. Yunho was deliberately slow in turning, a wicked grin on his face. “Husband, are you watching us? Naughty. She's your pet too.” He harshly slapped your thigh, but you didn't care at all, whining up at him in response.

Mingi slowly stepped in, meeting your fucked out gaze and taking in the sight of you. Aside from the tear streaks and drool on your chin, the ears on your head were messed up and the tail protruding from your ass was wet and sticking to your soaked inner thighs. Having you as their pet, as theirs to use at any time, making a mess of you was one of their favorite things to do.

Yunho pulled him close once he was in range, still in his work slacks and his shirt unbuttoned but still on. Hell, even his tie hung loosely from him. “Yun- you should undress properly before fucking our Puppy.” Mingi started to undress him, not at all bothered by the hard stare the other fixed him with.

“Speak for yourself.” Yunho's lips crashed to his, tugging at his clothes as he pushed his tongue in to mingle with his.

You could only watch as the two devoured each other, equals while you were their pretty pet.

Soon enough Mingi was naked and hovering above you, Yunho behind him with his hand stroking his cock and biting along his shoulder. “What do you say? Her pretty ass should be plenty prepped… and if it's not-” He shrugged, twisting Mingi's cock roughly to show he didn't care.

You were getting more turned on by the second. Despite Yunho already fucking you nonstop for what felt like an hour, making you cum, making a mess out of you, you were eager for them both. Mingi was just as eager, answering his husband’s question by roughly pulling the tail out of your ass and tossing it aside. They kept a waterproof blanket on top with one of many extra sheets over it for this reason.

“Do you want her ass?” Mingi groaned out as Yunho rubbed his cock against his ass; he wouldn’t mind that either. “Mmm, yes. Lay down Min.” Yunho pulled away, watching with a hard look as Mingi was quick to do as he was told. You were being manhandled before he was even comfortable, Yunho roughly pulling you onto Mingi’s lap and lining him up at your entrance. 

Both of you cried out as Yunho forced you down fully on his cock, taking in the expressions both of you made. He could watch you two fuck, that was enough for him sometimes, but not today. 

Handing Mingi your leash, the man beneath you began to buck his hips so you were bouncing on his cock, being used like a toy- just how you liked it. You could hear Yunho behind you, the next second feeling a bit more lube, before Mingi yanked you forward and gripped one of your ass cheeks to spread you further for him.

There was no warning before you were stretched out to accommodate Yunho’s large size. No time to adjust before he had your arms pulled back again and both slamming their full lengths into your twin holes ruthlessly. Your mind went numb with the intense mixture of pleasure and pain, drool falling from your open mouth down onto Mingi. With the tight hold he had on the leash, and Yunho’s rough hand holding both of your wrists while pressing down on the small of your back, your muscles were pulled in all sorts of directions that just intensified it all.

But this was just the start of their play time with their favorite puppy, and it wasn’t over until you were too fucked dumb to continue, and even then they might just have you watch them fuck each other.

Taglist (continued in reblogs):

@crispybaguettes | @sugarnspice630 | @mingsolo | @isiloiale | @candypop1611 |

| @lavishloving | @thesafecafe | @meepsters-world | @mysticfire0435 | @heihaneul |

| @cloudysannie | @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive | @staytinyinmybpack |

| @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames | @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  |

| @yothangie | @fatalt | @venn-ie | @ddaeing | @therealcuppicake |

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 17.6k ❧ genre: fluff, a sprinkle of angst & hurt/comfort, paranormal/supernatural au, ghost!jisung, established relationship, sequel to pur autre vie ❧ warnings: mentions of death, prominent side character dies prior to the beginning of the fic, depictions of grieving, more family tension/drama (yeah those assholes are back lol) ❧ extra info: this is the sequel to pur autre vie, it cannot be read as a standalone. you must read pur autre vie first! ❧ author’s note: oops i once again fell in love with a couple and cannot let them go! so here’s a sequel! i meant to post this a lot closer to the original but ended up getting stuck on some scenes and took breaks to write some other things, but it’s finally here and i rlly like how it turned out!!

“The house,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “Do you want it?”

“Like, Hyukjun’s house? The one that you just got?” You clarified. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have the money to buy a house.”

“No, no, you can have it,” he sounded and looked absolutely defeated.

You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately suspicious. “What’s wrong with it?”

Your stepbrother’s face screwed up as if he just ate a lemon; he clearly didn’t want to tell you the reason. “All the renters said it’s haunted,” he finally blurted out.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, looking around the coffee shop that you were at. Your eldest stepbrother had asked to meet with you, and you couldn’t imagine that it was anything good—certainly not just to get coffee and catch up. You hadn’t ordered anything, wanting to be able to make a quick escape if needed.

Seohyuk usually didn’t request a meeting with you. If he wanted to talk to you, he typically called to tell you he was going to stop by on his way to or from work, or just dropped by unannounced. That’s why you were extra on edge. You had arrived early, and kept checking the time every two minutes or so.

Finally, you saw him walking in, and thankfully he was alone, not accompanied by either of his younger brothers or his mother. Seohyuk was much easier to handle on his own. You made eye contact with him, but didn’t wave or make any move to stand up and greet him as he arrived at your table. He sat down across from you, looking rather disheveled. His hair was unkempt as if he’d been running his fingers through it all day and hadn’t looked in a mirror to fix it, his tie was loose and askew, his dress shirt crumpled, and his suit jacket that you knew he typically wore to work was missing entirely. He was also pink-cheeked and seemed to be trying to hide how heavily he was breathing, as if he had run here and didn’t want you to know.

“Good afternoon, Seohyuk,” you said politely, opting not to comment on his appearance.

He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Y/N.”

“Do you have a concern with the house? Or is this a question about possessions?” You decided to just be direct. Those were pretty much the only two things he ever contacted you about.

When your mother passed away six months ago and you moved out of her and Hyukjun’s house, the property had gone to your three stepbrothers. Which meant that your life since then had been a seemingly endless string of inquiries over you “damaging” the home while you had lived there, or you “stealing” stuff that was “rightfully” theirs when you moved out—i.e., items that were actually your mother’s, but they tried to claim were Hyukjun’s.

“The house,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “Do you want it?”

You couldn’t hide your surprise, your carefully neutral expression falling right off your face. “Wait, what?”

“Do you want the house?”

“Like, Hyukjun’s house? The one that you just got?” You clarified. “You’re... trying to sell it to me? I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have the money to buy a house.”

“No, no, you can have it,” he sounded and looked absolutely defeated.

You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately suspicious. “What’s wrong with it? What could you have done to it in six months?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” He pleaded. “It’s pretty much the same, we actually fixed up some of the wiring, stuff like that. We’ve tried to rent it out, but nobody will stay.”

“You can’t keep your renters?”

“We’ve had four different tenants, none of them lasted longer than a month.”

“What? Why? It’s a great house.”

Seohyuk’s face screwed up as if he just ate a lemon; he clearly didn’t want to tell you the reason.

“Come on, I already know somebody died in the house,” you scoffed. “What is it?”

“They all said it’s haunted,” he finally blurted out. “And I mean, you know it’s an old house, it creaks and stuff sometimes—I tried to tell them that. They said the lights would flicker, so we replaced the bulbs. Cold spots—We had a guy look at the A/C, he said it was fine. Then it was things disappearing from one room and reappearing in another room, and they swore nobody who lived there moved them. One couple said they started on a jigsaw puzzle before they went to bed and when they woke up, it was all put together.”

You slowly nodded, very carefully controlling your facial expressions as you tried to figure out what reaction you should be having to this. Skepticism? Curiosity? Unease?

“All of your tenants said stuff like that happened?” You clarified.

“Every single one,” he confirmed. “And it got worse with each new one. The first one moved out after a month. The second, two weeks. Third, a week. The last one only lasted three days.”

You squinted at him suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest. “And why do you think I would want to live there?”

“I’m not a superstitious man whatsoever,” he adjusted his tie a bit, “but after all this, I went to the house myself to see what was going on.”

“What, did you bring a Ouija board or something?” You joked, sitting back in your chair.

“I felt ridiculous bringing it in, but yes.”

You knew you were giving him the most incredulous look ever, but he went on with his story anyway.

“I sat down with the board in the living room and asked if there was a spirit in the home. Something cold touched my hands, then the pointer moved to yes.”

“Planchette.”

“Hm?”

“It’s called a planchette,” you corrected him dryly.

“Right.”

“So what happened next?”

Seohyuk continued, “I asked if it was your mother first. I figured that was most reasonable, since she had just…”

“Passed away in the house right before all this started happening?” You filled in for him.

“Yes. But the… planchette moved to no. So then I asked if it was my dad. Again, no.”

“I still don’t see how this leads to me taking the possibly haunted house back from you,” you reminded him, desperately suppressing your giddiness.

“Look, I asked if it was an evil spirit, and it said no.”

“Why would an evil spirit tell you it was evil?”

“It hasn’t hurt anybody, or damaged anything, or done anything bad at all!” Seohyuk was practically begging now. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it: you lived there for two years while you took care of your mom, and nothing like this happened that whole time, right?”

“No, I can’t say anything like this happened,” you tepidly agreed.

“The spirit must have been there the whole time you were there, and it only started doing this stuff once you left. I think if you go back, it should… calm down.”

You let silence hang in the air for a few moments, holding his eye contact, admittedly enjoying seeing him squirm under your gaze as he seemed to realize how crazy all of that sounded. Finally, you sighed, “I don’t know, Seohyuk, my new place is closer to my job…”

“I will pay you to take it at this point. We can’t rent it, or sell it, this has become an absolute nightmare.” He clasped his hands in front of him, quite literally begging now.

“And you’ll stop harassing me about our parents’ possessions?”

“Yes, yes.”

You pretended to contemplate this again, despite your mind being made up from the very beginning. After another agonizingly long bout of silence, you asked, “How much?”

When your mom was first put on hospice over a year ago now, you had started preparing to leave hers and Hyukjun’s house—and trying anything and everything to bring Jisung with you. You knew that once she passed, your stepbrothers wouldn’t give you much time to get out, so you had to make all your preparations long before then so you could vacate at the drop of a hat. Packing, cleaning, deciding what of your mother’s you were going to keep and what you would be donating, figuring out how to move your ghost boyfriend from one parcel of land to your new apartment.

First you’d tried taking all of the original kitchen cabinet knobs with you, but after fourteen hours, he still blipped back to the house. When a contractor was over doing some repairs, you pocketed a chunk of brick and tried that—six hours. A piece of the foundation—ten hours. Cabinet knobs, brick, and foundation—that was the longest, a full twenty-four hours; you had an overnight errand to run for your mother and tried it then.

You eventually branched out in your search for a way to move Jisung, checking out all sorts of books from the library and staying up late reading blog posts. But no matter what sort of herbs, metals, crystals, or recitation you tried, you could never beat time—he was always eventually, frustratingly, pulled back to the house.

And now here you were, in front of the house again. The flowers had seen better days, looking a little sad as you stopped to inspect their wilting petals and sandy dirt around them. You frowned to yourself, putting that near the top of your mental to-do list. The windows of the two-story townhouse were dark, and the porch swing looked like it had been sanded and re-stained along with the rest of the porch.

Turning the key in the lock of the front door, you heard the familiar click of the mechanism and wrapped your hand around the door handle. You pushed it open, slightly disappointed when you didn’t hear the usual creak of the hinges—they must have been oiled since you left. The house was quiet and dim, and you shut the door behind you.

Looking around expectantly, you called out into the seemingly empty home, “Jisung? Come on, I know it’s you—Ah!”

A weight suddenly crashing into you from the solid wall on your left cut you off, and you immediately recognized the cold arms wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” Jisung murmured under his breath, almost as if he didn’t believe it. “Y/N…”

“Jisung.” You squeezed him back, burying your face in his neck. “Oh, I’m back, Jisung.”

“You’re really-You’re really here?” He pulled back to hold your face with two hands. Jisung was just like you remembered, dark hair, dark eyes, his black cardigan and white shirt, and you were sure if you looked down, he’d have the same black pants and shoes as well.

You nodded, jangling the keys in your hand. “The house is mine. For good this time.”

“You didn’t—” His face looked both pained and touched. “How much did they charge you?”

“They paid me,” you informed him with a laugh. “Turns out it’s really hard to sell a haunted house around here.”

Jisung’s eyes widened as a plainly guilty look overtook his face, and his voice had poorly feigned obliviousness in it. “A… whaaat…? Pfft…”

“Since when have you been such a paranormal menace, Park Jisung?” You shook your head at him but couldn’t keep the amusement out of your tone. “Really, finishing people’s puzzles while they’re asleep, moving stuff around—Were you trying to make them move out?”

“I didn’t like any of them.” He crossed his arms. “The first ones fought every day and were just a bother, the second ones just worked all the time and when they were home all they talked about was their boring jobs, the third ones were just boring, and the fourth one—”

“—Was here for three days, how could you possibly have known if you liked them or not?”

“I knew,” he insisted. “He stepped on one of the flowerbeds when he was bringing in boxes and didn’t even care!”

“You actually did a Ouija board with Seohyuk?”

“I wasn’t going to, but I figured maybe I could get him to pick less shitty tenants,” he huffed. “I was thinking about spelling out your name, but I thought that might’ve been pushing it.”

“He already thinks I’m a little weird for taking the haunted house back, I’m glad you didn’t push our luck,” you said, cupping his cheek with one hand and kissing the other.

“You’re really back?” Jisung asked quietly, placing his hand over yours on his cheek.

“I’m home, Jisung,” you promised, tracing an X over the left side of your chest. “Cross my heart.”

In bed that night, you listened to Jisung’s even breathing, slowly drawn even closer to sleep by the circles his fingers traced on your back. His breath suddenly hitched and shuddered, as if suppressing a sniffle.

“Jisung?” You said his name quietly, already beginning to turn over to face him.

“It was so hard…” His face was tear-stained, and his lower lip trembled as he tried to talk. “Going from actually being somebody with you back to… nobody seeing me, or hearing me. Walking right through me. I’d done it for so long before you, I thought I could do it. But this time…”

“Jisung…” You couldn’t do much more than murmur his name. As soon as you’d reached out for him, he’d already thrown himself into your arms. You cradled his head to your chest, pressing a long kiss to his hair.

“I was so lonely,” he admitted, curling his fingers in your shirt. “I mean, I’ve been alone, but it’s never felt like-like that.”

“Shh, shh,” you soothed his sobs, gently rubbing a hand up and down his back. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I’m so sorry…”

He seemed to be trying to collect himself, wiping at his eyes as he lifted his head. “I’m sorry, Y/N. It must’ve… They kicked you out so soon after your mom passed. You didn’t even have time to grieve her.”

“It was really difficult, yeah. Especially because I didn’t have you,” you said softly, stroking his hair. “I didn’t have anybody. Felt like I was invisible, too.”

He shuffled up higher to sit up against the pillows, wrapping an arm around you, and you let him pull you under his chin. You leaned your head against him, your eyes misty. After a few blinks, the tears subsided again. You’d practically cried yourself dry in the past six months.

“I went to a grief support group the hospital holds once a week,” you continued, picking at your nails. “It helped, I guess, getting to talk about it with other people who were in the same sort of thing as me.”

“Good. I’m glad you found something to help.” He laced his fingers with yours, holding you even tighter. “I couldn’t—I hated the idea that you were going through all of that alone.”

“We’re not alone anymore,” you reminded him. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay…” Jisung kissed your temple. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming back.”

“Thank you for waiting again.”

“You look very cute,” Jisung complimented you as you readjusted your outfit, poking the tip of your nose for good measure.

“Thank you,” you responded quietly, conscious of the other people nearby.

Content with your clothes, you looked around for the right person, and happened to spot a girl around your age standing further back and admiring the view as well. You and Jisung were at a riverside park that afforded a nice view of the city skyline across the water. The kitchen cabinet knobs were the easiest for you to carry about in your day-to-day life, and you found that two would usually cover Jisung for a full day out pretty well. You’d had one of the starbursts turned into a ring and another into a pendant that hung from a matching silver chain. The other six stayed in one of your tote bags in case you had something longer planned.

Approaching the girl with your phone in hand and already open to the camera, you offered a friendly smile. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you mind taking a picture of me?”

“Oh, sure!” She agreed, taking your phone from you.

Moving back to the railing, you posed as if you were any other visitor, resting an arm on the handrail as you smiled for the camera. Jisung took his usual cue, stepping into your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He did his best to jostle and move you as little as possible, assimilating to your position instead. The girl did a countdown before she took a few photos, and you made sure to make them each a little different, smiling, peace sign, poking your cheek. As always, Jisung did each changing pose with you.

After a few, you relaxed back out of your pose. “Thank you so much!”

“Here, look at them and make sure they’re good,” she said, handing your phone back. “I think something might be wrong with your camera, there’s this blur or something in the previews. It wasn’t showing up when I was shooting, but as soon as I took a picture, it was there.”

You took your phone back, looking at your pictures at an angle that she couldn’t see. And sure enough, Jisung was in all of them, hazy apparition and all.

“These are great, thank you!” You told her brightly, clicking your phone off.

She didn’t seem that invested in your strange phone camera phenomenon that was occurring, so she just gave you a skeptical look before shrugging. “Of course. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Closing the front door behind you, you then stepped out of your shoes before heading for your living room. You were still wrapping your brain around this really being your home now. You flopped down onto the couch, Jisung beside you, and pulled your phone out to review the pictures from earlier.

“What do you think, Sungie?” You hummed, scrolling through your camera roll.

He scooted in closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and using that hand to switch between the pictures himself. He clicked his tongue contemplatively, zooming in on his “head” in one of the photos.

“Can you tell I’m winking?” He asked, squinting at the screen.

You giggled. “Not quite.”

“I like the first one and this one.”

“Me too.” You started doing a little bit of color balancing to the pictures.

“Are you hungry, baby? You didn’t get anything while we were out.”

“Oh, sure,” you replied absentmindedly.

“I’ll get you something to eat.” Jisung kissed the top of your head before standing up, and you heard his footsteps recede into the kitchen.

Content with the pictures, you opened up Instagram and got ready to draft a new post. You chose the two pictures that you and Jisung liked, then typed out your caption: ‘went to the river today.’

You’d just hit post when Jisung came back in with a plate of food for you. Setting your phone aside, you accepted the plate with a smile. “Thanks.”

“You posted them yet?” He asked, sitting back down and turning his attention to a partially-assembled jigsaw puzzle.

“Just did,” you confirmed, turning your phone back on to check your notifications. “All the usual stuff so far.”

You hadn’t set out to post pictures with your ghost boyfriend, much less make a hobby of it. When you went out, you used to be extra careful not to get him in any photos, actually. Then, when your mom was put on hospice, in her moments of lucidness she started giving you errands to run for her. She always asked for you to take pictures of yourself on all of the excursions she sent you on. She said it was because she couldn’t go with you, she wanted to be able to hear about it and see it so she could feel like she had gone with you.

At first, you hated every errand she sent you on. You didn’t want to leave her side for even a second, anxious to even use the bathroom, just in case you missed the moment she passed. But you’d begrudgingly accept the tasks, as they were usually things like ‘I want to drink this rare tea before I die,’ or ‘I want to eat a sweet from this bakery before I die.’ You only realized what she was doing when they started to become errands like ‘I always wanted to watch the sunset at this view, won’t you go and take a picture for me?’ At the time, you were still anxious that you would miss the moment, but in hindsight you felt overwhelmed with the knowledge of how loved you were, that your mom was still taking care of you in whatever way she could, even then.

Jisung would almost always accompany you on these errands, at least for however long he could. You tried to take nice pictures to show your mom wherever you went, and of yourself in those places, asking strangers to take pictures of you if you felt it appropriate—usually if she had sent you to some more touristy place. It was while someone else was taking your picture in front of some field of flowers of all places that you cracked under all the stress and burst into tears. Jisung stepped in to comfort you at the same time the older man had taken another picture—he realized that you’d started crying immediately after taking the picture and consoled you as well. Later, when you actually looked at the picture, you realized that Jisung had been captured in the photograph, a dark figure reaching towards you as you turned away from the camera to cover your face, seemingly turning into him. After that, the two of you decided to take more pictures together intentionally.

Having nothing better to do with the pictures, you shared them on your social media, figuring that nobody would naturally assume it was a real-life ghost. They didn’t, of course. Most people thought it was some kind of continued photography or photo-editing project. You didn’t expect it to draw in the outside audience that they did, though. Everybody had a different interpretation of the pictures. Some thought they were just meant to be spooky and look like a ghost, others thought the blur represented something, whether that be grief, a former relationship, mental health struggles, it really was endless. You, meanwhile, continued posting your pictures with your ghost boyfriend.

Putting your phone back down, you picked up a puzzle piece as well. You lost track of how long the two of you had been in peaceful silence, the only sounds that of the cardboard pieces sliding across the table and clicking into place when someone knocked on the door. It was a quick succession of knocks, and you and Jisung paused to look at each other.

“Are you expecting a package?” He asked.

“No.” You furrowed your brow. They knocked again, prompting you to get to your feet. “Neighbor maybe?”

When you peeked out the peephole, you spotted a woman standing there, smoothing out her designer clothes. She fixed her hair as she looked around almost nervously. You were tempted to not answer, except something about her seemed familiar, so you unlocked the latch and cracked open the door enough to show yourself, but not too wide.

“Uhm, hi?” You greeted her, keeping your tone light.

“Hi,” she immediately focused a bright, friendly smile on you. “Y/N, right?”

“Yes. You’re…?”

“Chaeyeon, I’m Seohyuk’s wife.”

“Of course.” You nodded and smiled politely, looking around uncertainly.

“It’s okay that you didn’t immediately recognize me, we only met the one time and it’s been a while,” Chaeyeon reassured you.

“Yes. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too.” She was still smiling at you, and there was an awkward pause as you didn’t have anything to say back. Chaeyeon said, “I’m sure you’re confused why I’m here. There’s a book that Seohyuk was trying to find in his father’s things the other day and we haven’t been able to locate it. Neither of his brothers nor my mother-in-law have it, and it’s not on the list of things that we sold or donated. Would you mind checking to see if you have it?”

“My mom had a lot of books, it’s possible it got mixed in,” you agreed mildly. When she was still standing there a beat later with her expectant, shining eyes, hands clasped over her purse in front of her, you stepped back slightly from the door. “Uh, do you want to come in while I look for it?”

“Thank you.” She followed you in, and you closed the door behind her.

“I’m sorry Seohyuk sent you all the way out here and got you involved,” you said as you led her into the living room where the bookshelves were. Jisung was still sitting on the couch, and narrowed his eyes at Chaeyeon suspiciously. You shot him a warning look behind her back to behave. The last thing you needed was him spooking her or making you react in some socially unacceptable way in front of her.

“I asked to come. He was going to stop by on his way to work, but I had some errands to run, so I figured…” She trailed off wistfully. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding, you know.”

Unsure of what else to say, you replied, “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“Here’s all her old books that I still have. What’s the title?” You asked, then paused after she read off the title from her phone. “Wait, that one?”

“Yes, is there a problem?”

You did your best not to outright roll your eyes, but didn’t entirely hide your annoyance at Seohyuk already going back on his agreement to stop harassing you over your respective parents’ things. “I know that book. It’s nice, actually one of my mom’s favorite authors. It’s in my room, wait here.”

Upstairs, you weren’t surprised that Jisung had followed you.

“He’s a dick,” he scoffed.

“Mm-hm.” You grabbed the book off your dresser. “What’s new?”

“Tell her no.”

“I’m tired, Jisung,” you sighed. “I’m tired of fighting with him about this stuff all the time. I have plenty of things to remember my mom and Hyukjun by. I mean—I have their house. If he really wants this book, he can have it. I’m done.”

Your ghost looked down at you sadly. “He did this the whole time you were gone too?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You headed for the door. “I can’t keep her waiting.”

Descending the stairs and turning into the living room, you were pleasantly surprised to see Chaeyeon pretty much exactly where you left her. Not that you wanted to assume the worst of her, but it definitely had crossed your mind that Seohyuk had sent her here as part of some plot, no matter how nice she had been so far. But she was still in the living room, seemingly reading the spines of your collection of books, hands still on her purse.

She turned when she heard your footsteps. “You have so many books. Have you read all of these?”

“Most of them. Or had them read to me. My mom was a Literature teacher,” you explained. You held the book out to her. “Here.”

“Thanks, Y/N, Seohyuk will be really—” She accepted it, gently opening the clothbound front cover, and her eyes landed on the cover page. “The note…”

“Yeah, it was Hyukjun’s wedding gift to my mom,” you confirmed flatly.

“Keep it.” She immediately offered the book back to you.

“Huh?”

“It was a gift from his dad to your mother. I get why he wants it back, but it should be yours. I’ll talk to him.” She stepped forward to pick up your hand, putting the book into it. “I promise.”

You took it back with two hands, holding it to your chest. “Thank you. You really don’t have to go through the trouble.”

Chaeyeon smiled softly. “Are you busy?”

You couldn’t help your surprise, blinking at her. “Right now?”

“My nail appointment isn’t for another two hours. Would you like to get some tea?”

“Uhm, sure,” you accepted, despite Jisung’s wide, dumbfounded eyes.

Sat across from Chaeyeon in a teahouse, you blew on the surface of your steaming tea, tapping your nails against the side of your cup. Her fingers were elegantly wrapped around her cup, large diamond ring glinting from her left hand as she took a sip.

She set her tea down and gave you a sheepish smile. “I’m making you nervous.”

“Was it obvious?” You chuckled awkwardly, continuing to hold your own drink.

“You’re very tense.”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just surprised that you would ask me to get tea with you.”

“You’re family, too,” she said kindly, and you were straining your ears to try to find any hint of insincerity, sarcasm, or malice in her tone. She really seemed genuine in her sentiments.

“I think the two of us have a pretty tenuous connection there,” you pointed out.

“I know, but since your mom passed—Oh, how do I—” She fretted for a moment, unfolding and re-folding the napkin in her lap then tucking her hair behind her ear. “…Do you have anyone else?”

You had to refrain from looking at Jisung, who was occupying the spot next to you, still observing Chaeyeon closely. “Ah, no, not really.”

“Neither do I,” she confessed. “I mean, I have Seohyuk and his family, and they’re wonderful. But my own parents have passed, and my little sister, too. She would be around your age, actually.”

“I’m so sorry, Chaeyeon,” you said genuinely.

“I know we’re not related by blood, by any stretch of the imagination, but I hope we can at least be friends. If you’d like.”

“Wait, seriously?” Jisung retorted doubtfully.

You fidgeted with the starburst ring on your finger as you thought about Chaeyeon’s words. “I don’t want to be rude since you’re being so nice to me, but can I just ask—Why? Why you’re being so nice to me? I mean, I can’t imagine that Seohyuk has been saying anything good about me to you. No disrespect to your husband.”

“I’ve gathered that you all don’t get along very well…” She acquiesced. After taking another sip of her tea, she continued, “I was only able to meet my father-in-law once. Seohyuk thought we’d have plenty of time to get acquainted after the wedding.”

You winced as you put your tea down, an apology already on your tongue before you could stop it. “I’m sorry, Hyukjun asked me not to say anything to them. I-I still don’t know if I did the right thing, I can’t imagine what it was like for them…”

“There was no wrong choice, Y/N.” She reached for one of your hands. “It was a terrible, impossible situation for everyone involved. There was no decision you could’ve made that would’ve spared everyone’s feelings. It’s okay. Don’t be sorry for honoring his wish.”

You looked down at your hands on the tabletop between you two, then back up at her. “I interrupted you, sorry. Continue.”

“I only met Hyukjun one time, but he was fantastic, he really was. And Seohyuk always talks about how amazing his dad was, you can tell he was his hero—still is.” Her voice and her features held a fondness that you had never seen on display for your stepbrother before; you were genuinely stunned for a moment. “When Seohyuk and I started dating and we were talking about our families, he finally got around to the fact that his dad remarried, and his new wife has a daughter that his dad just absolutely adores. The way he said it, I thought you were a little kid at first, and then he mentioned you had a job.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with her at this information, the first you’d ever heard of this.

“And he kept bringing it up every so often. That Hyukjun adored you and your mom,” she went on, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “I sort of thought that if there’s this person who was apparently adored so much by the man that my husband—the man I love and adore—looked up to and loved, that I’d very much like to meet her.”

“My mom would have loved you,” you said softly, feeling your eyes fill with tears. “I mean, I know you met her at the wedding, and you were so lovely to her then, but if you had been able to really know her—God she would have loved you.”

“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Chaeyeon gasped, opening her purse and bringing out tissues to start dabbing at your eyes for you.

“It’s okay, really,” you assured her, letting her clean up your face anyway. “I think—I think I’m crying because you reminded me of her.”

She sat back on her feet. “Really?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You laughed, mostly at yourself you were pretty sure. Chaeyeon was absolutely beaming at you now, and you took another drink of your tea as Jisung rested a cool hand on your back. “I know you have to go to a nail appointment after this, but would you mind if I visited you and Seohyuk sometime?”

“And Seohyuk?” She repeated, obviously not expecting that.

“I have something to give him back.”

“I already told you, you should keep the book,” she insisted with a shake of her head.

“Other than the book.”

“Oh, then of course.”

“I still don’t know why you like coming to work with me,” you sighed, pulling on your jacket.

Jisung grabbed your bag for you, which had the other cabinet knobs you weren’t already wearing in it. “Do you want me to stay here?”

“I didn’t say that.” You slipped the bag onto your shoulder. “I just don’t get how sitting around watching me work at the office is any more interesting than sitting around here all day.”

“All the dishes are done, laundry’s folded, and I dare you to find a speck of dust in this house.”

“Yes, Jisung, you’re the perfect house husband,” you said, an amused smile playing across your lips as you went to unlock the front door. “Also not what we were talking about.”

He held the door open for you, following you out and waiting on the porch as you locked up. “I miss you when you’re at work. Is that so horrible?”

“No,” you chuckled, pocketing your keys and starting your journey to work. “I miss you too, Sungie.”

After your mom passed, your work had let you take as much time as you needed to both grieve and deal with your hasty change in living situation. Once you were ready, you slowly started a new hybrid schedule—coming into the office for a full day twice a week and working from home part-time the rest of the work week.

Your first stop after dropping your bag off at your cubicle was usually the breakroom. This morning, it seemed as though somebody had brought in donuts, and you spotted a familiar figure already hunched over them, carefully selecting one.

“Good morning, Sungchan,” you greeted your coworker brightly.

The tall man shot up straight, spinning around in place, his ID badge hitting him in the face in the process. He brought a hand up to grab his lanyard and lay it flat against his chest again as he gave you a crooked, breathless smile. “Oh! Morning, Y/N!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed, grabbing a mug from the cabinet to start on your morning cup of coffee.

“No, it’s okay, I was just so focused, I guess.” He pointed to the box behind him, “Mr. Choi brought donuts for everyone.”

“I see. What kind are you going to get?”

“I don’t know…” Sungchan sucked in air through his teeth regretfully. “They all look really good.”

“Pick two and we can split them.”

“Really?” He asked you, his big eyes shining at you.

“Really.”

“Well, which one do you want?”

“I don’t care, you pick.”

Sungchan made his selections, and carefully cut them into precise halves before letting you pick your pieces of each.

Loading your two donut halves up onto a napkin and grabbing your coffee mug, you gave him a single nod. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Thanks, Y/N!” He beamed. “I’ve got to go, I haven’t checked my email yet.”

“Ugh,” you wrinkled your nose at the thought. “Emails…”

Sungchan darted out of the breakroom, leaving just you and your ghost. You took a bite of one of the donut halves, washing it down with a long sip of your coffee. Average chain donut.

“I know you’re pouting, Jisung,” you hummed under your breath. “He’s new, he needs people to be nice to him.”

“I know, I don’t think you’re flirting,” Jisung replied, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms. “I think he’s going to think you are.”

“Too bad for him, then.”

Another one of your coworkers wandered in then, still yawning and rubbing sleep out of his eye. Shotaro looked around the breakroom expectantly. “Sungchan said there were donuts?”

“Only if you like sugary cardboard,” you informed him, dropping yours in the trashcan on your way out.

At your cubicle, you started your computer up, the sound of Sungchan clacking away at his keyboard on your left filling your ears. You took your own lanyard with your company ID out of your tote bag and set it on your desk. The ID gave you access to certain areas of the building, and while technically all employees were supposed to be wearing them at all times, nobody except brand-new employees actually followed that rule. Jisung sat in the chair at the empty cubicle to your right, kicking his feet up on the desk and humming to himself.

Shotaro finally joined your small pod of six desks at his spot across from you, and you noted that he didn’t have a donut with him. You tapped your fingers along to the melody that Jisung was humming.

“Hey, Shotaro, did you see that email that Ms. Kim sent?” Sungchan asked.

“Dude,” Shotaro groaned. “One—I just sat down. Two—Take some notes from Y/N, don’t check your email until 9:30. I promise, you’re going to be so much happier.”

“But it’s already 9:10, I mean—” Sungchan let out a distressed huff, running a hand through his hair. “What do you do for thirty minutes?”

“Get your coffee, fill up your water bottle, chat with people in the breakroom, chat with people by the copy machine, finish any work you didn’t get to yesterday, tidy up your desk, literally anything except open your email,” you listed off some ideas for him, just beginning to turn your own computer on.

“Why?”

“Because if I read an email before 9:30, and it pisses me off, I’m going to be pissed off all day,” you snorted. “It’s for everyone’s good.”

“I’m so glad you’re in the office now,” Shotaro sighed happily. “This is the kind of wisdom I missed out on when I started and you were still remote.”

“Yeah, you’re lucky I came back in at all.”

Jisung sat up in his seat, something clearly having caught his attention across the floor. “Be right back.”

You glanced up from your computer screen to see where he was going, and immediately spotted what he had: Two supervisors who also worked on your floor, Ms. Kim and Mr. Han, walking towards Ms. Kim’s office as they had a hushed conversation. They were at about the same rank as your supervisor, Mr. Choi, and with regards to work, there was nothing remarkable about them. They weren’t overseeing any of your projects, you really only knew of them in passing. But they had caught Jisung’s interest, and by extension, yours, because they had begun something of a will-they/won’t-they romance a couple months ago. You never encouraged Jisung’s snooping on your colleagues, but he needed to entertain himself somehow, and you made sure not to divulge anything he told you that wasn’t already part of the office gossip zeitgeist in conversation to your coworkers.

A few minutes later, Jisung was practically running back to you, narrowly darting around some of your other coworkers in his haste. You could see some of them shiver and look around in confusion at the sudden breeze that had blown by with seemingly no reason, peering up to try to find the air conditioning vent that must be around. Letting out a small sigh and keeping your eyes on your computer screen, you readjusted in your seat and scooted over to make just enough room for Jisung to hop up on your desk.

He happily squeezed in next to your keyboard, swinging his legs as he was clearly buzzing with news. “They’re finally doing it. They’re going on a date!”

“Hm.” You had to keep your reactions small, but felt a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“I know! Ms. Kim is really worried because she doesn't want anybody here to think differently of her, but Mr. Han was just over the moon that she finally said yes! And you could tell that Ms. Kim was excited, too, obviously.”

You grabbed a notepad on your desk, scribbling a note to Jisung. ‘What kind of date?’

“They haven’t figured that out. Ms. Kim got a call before they could finish talking and Mr. Han left her office so she could take it,” he sighed, clearly disappointed.

‘Cliffhanger...’

“Hey, Y/N, does this email sound like, professional enough?” Sungchan asked, poking his head around your shared cubicle wall and through Jisung’s arm. Your ghost jerked his limb away from your coworker with a miffed look as you ripped the paper off your notepad and tossed it in your garbage can.

“Let me take a look,” you offered, going to scoot your chair over at the same time Jisung moved out of your way, back to his empty cubicle.

“Do you have a vent blowing right on your desk or something?” Sungchan shivered for dramatic effect. “I swear the air temperature dropped like ten degrees as soon as I crossed into your cubicle.”

“Cold spot!” Shotaro declared, his finger jabbing at the two of you from over the cubicles. His eyes followed a moment later. “What did I tell you?”

You scoffed, trying to skim the email in front of you again, “You were serious about that?”

“What? What is he talking about?” Sungchan looked between the two of you nervously.

“Shotaro thinks the office is—”

“—Our office is haunted,” Shotaro got up from his chair to lean forward and hiss dramatically, as if the alleged ghost was going to get him just for saying so.

Jisung, meanwhile, gasped and looked around with mock fear on his features. “A ghost! Where?!”

“You guys are ridiculous.” You shook your head.

“What did I do?” Sungchan pouted, obviously assuming that you were talking about him and Shotaro.

“You put a smiley face in your email, Sungchan,” you retorted, hitting the backspace with no mercy. “And you can’t end every sentence with an exclamation mark. The period button exists for a reason. Use it.”

“But I don’t want to sound mean…”

“One. You get one exclamation mark per email. And no smiley faces.”

“Okay…”

“Fine, everybody ignore Shotaro,” your other coworker threw his hands up as he fell back into his seat, letting the chair roll away from his desk before he scooted up again. “But when the ghost starts deleting important emails and writing in toner on the copy room wall that it’s going to kill us all, I will say I told you so.”

“Hey, there’s some ideas…” Jisung nodded along as if he were actually considering this. You shot him a look out of the corner of your eye.

“Your talents are wasted here, Shotaro. You should really be writing horror novels that exclusively take place in office buildings,” you told him, rolling back over to your own desk.

“Ah! Lunch break!” Jisung cheered as the two of you exited the building into the sunny, mild day.

“Yeah, you’ve been really hard at work,” you teased him under your breath, starting on the familiar path to a nearby park that you usually took your lunch at. It was typically pretty empty at this time of day, and you found that you could freely talk to Jisung there, a single headphone in for plausible deniability.

“I wish you had an office,” he sighed. “So we could actually talk to each other.”

“I used to,” you said, plopping down at a picnic table. “Before I moved in with my mom and Hyukjun, when I was still full-time in my old position.”

“Wait, really? What was your old position?”

“Mr. Choi’s position.”

“So Mr. Choi is in your office?”

You grabbed your lunch from your tote bag. “Hasn’t been my office in years. It’s his office.”

“But—Why—” Jisung frowned. “You haven’t said anything before.”

You shrugged. “Haven’t had a reason to bring it up, I guess.”

“You’re back now, though.”

“I couldn’t do that job anymore when I chose to help my mom and Hyukjun. Mr. Choi has been a great supervisor; there’s no point in them firing him just to put me back there now. I wasn’t expecting them to keep an office empty for me for years.”

Your ghost was quiet as he seemed to ponder this.

“Besides, if I had that job again, I’d have to be at the office every day,” you pointed out. “All day. No free time like I have now.”

“Oh.” His nose wrinkled as he presumably imagined what that would be like. “Mr. Choi can keep the office.”

“So are we doing bets on what sort of date—”

“Why is he here?” Jisung frowned and crossed his arms, focusing a suspicious glare behind you.

It was then that you heard footsteps approaching you, and you turned to see Mr. Choi coming down the sidewalk, seemingly not by accident as he focused a friendly smile on you as soon as you spotted him. He lifted his hand in a wave of greeting, and you returned the gesture, watching with interest as he stopped next to your picnic table.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said brightly, and you noticed a brown paper bag in his other hand. “Sorry, were you on a call?”

“Just finished.”

“Well, would you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, Mr. Choi,” you indicated to the seat across from you.

Jisung moved from his spot with a sigh, sitting next to you instead as your supervisor sat down. Mr. Choi opened his sack lunch to bring out a bento box and small juice box, making you smile into your next bite of food.

“Cute,” you commented, pointing to the colorful vegetable slices that had been cut into star and heart shapes in one section of the container.

“My wife makes all these elaborate lunches for the kids to bring to school,” he began to explain, and though you almost expected him to be sheepish about having a childish-looking lunch, unveiling crackers in the shapes of cartoon characters, instead he just looked fond and proud. “Anything they don’t eat goes in my lunch the next day.”

“You get the scraps?” You couldn’t help but snicker.

“Yeah,” he laughed as well.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take your lunch out of the office if it wasn’t a business lunch, Mr. Choi,” you said knowingly.

“Ah, was I obvious?” He chuckled, pulling on one of his ears nervously.

“I know you value our free time and want us to as well, so I don’t think this is work-related, right?”

“Tangentially…” The older man popped a star-shaped cucumber in his mouth. “I just… wanted to check in with you, Y/N. I hate calling people into my office for bad reasons, much less something like this. Very… confrontational.”

“I get it.” The corner of your lip twitched with a smile. “I’m alright, actually. Still taking things day by day. I miss her a lot, but it doesn’t feel like I’m… suffocating anymore.”

“Good, that’s good to hear.”

“I’m nervous, Sungie,” you admitted, taking a deep breath to try to calm your erratic heart.

“You’ll be fine, baby,” he reassured you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it gently. “You’ve dealt with him before.”

The two of you were on the way to your eldest stepbrother’s house, at the invite of his wife. Chaeyeon had reassured that Seohyuk wanted you to come over, which only knotted your stomach even more. You could deal with Seohyuk being an ass, but you weren’t used to him being… friendly. At least not without being in front of your parents.

You squeezed Jisung’s hand tighter, trying to focus on the familiar coolness of it. “I know. But what if I’m nice because I think he’s being nice, and end up revealing something that he’ll just use the next time he decides to be cruel?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jisung smoothed his thumb over your hand as he hushed your anxious thoughts. “You’re just returning something; nobody said you have to pour your heart out to him.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Double checking the address Chaeyeon sent you, you watched the house numbers go down and down until you were finally in front of 1174, your destination. You gave Jisung’s hand one last squeeze before letting it go and starting up the short driveway to their front door.

The black painted door swung open hardly a second after you had knocked, the familiar, beaming features of Chaeyeon greeting you.

“Hey, Y/N!” She threw her arms around you. “You made it!”

“Hi, Chaeyeon,” you timidly hugged her back. “Good to see you again. Thank you for inviting me over.”

“Of course, come in.” She grabbed your arm in a gentle but firm grasp, pulling you in after her. Jisung barely slipped in before she closed the door, to your amusement—he could’ve easily walked through it.

Chaeyeon had brought you into their living room, where her husband stood up from his seat on their leather couch. Seohyuk kept his hands behind his back as he nodded to you politely.

“Y/N, hello.”

“Hey, Seohyuk,” you nodded back, nearly suffocating in the tension already.

After an awkward, heavy pause, Chaeyeon piped up, bubbly as ever as she asked you, “So, you said you had something, Y/N? To give back?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You cleared your throat, reaching into your tote bag. In a small pocket separate from your cabinet knobs and other things, were two small rectangles. Taking just one more second to look at the top image, a photograph of Hyukjun when he was younger, you handed both that and the other paper out to Seohyuk.

“I found these the other day, tucked into one of my mom’s books,” you explained quietly. “I think she was using them as a bookmark.”

“What’s…” He brought out the other image from behind the first, his voice trailing off. It was his and Chaeyeon’s wedding invite, and you knew he was seeing exactly what you and your mom had seen before as he held them side by side.

“You look just like him,” Chaeyeon murmured, touching the wedding invite in awe. She looked up at you with a smile, “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what you think about my mom, or really what your guys’ relationship with her was like in your eyes,” you continued. “But to her, you were family. I wish she had been in better shape to be able to show you that, and I know she did too.”

“I’m sorry.” Seohyuk looked up from the pictures to you, a painfully sincere look on his face.

“For what?”

“I never told you that, genuinely, after your mom was diagnosed, or after she passed. I’m really sorry, for everything you’ve been through.”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “Me too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your dad’s diagnosis, even if he told me not to. It’s still… You didn’t get to prepare.”

Something distantly beeped from an adjoining room, and Chaeyeon briefly squeezed her husband’s shoulder and murmured a hushed ‘be right back’ before slipping out of the room.

“It sucked, yeah,” he admitted hoarsely. “It must’ve been hard on you, taking care of the both of them by yourself. Especially Dad, I’m sure he didn’t want anything spent on himself, he wanted everything saved up for your mom, right?”

“Yeah, the memory care aides could only do so much for late-stage lung cancer.”

“Thank you. For taking care of him and being there for him when we weren’t.” There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or bitterness in his tone, just a honeyed warmth that nearly left you shell-shocked.

“I know you already know this, but your dad was just a really, really great guy,” you spoke past the lump in your throat as memories of your stepdad bubbled up. “I’m happy I got to know him for as long as I did. My dad died when I was young, and I didn’t have Hyukjun back then but sometimes it really felt like I did. Just felt like he’d always been there.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, setting the pictures down on the coffee table in front of him.

“You already said that, Seohyuk.”

“I know, but I have more stuff to apologize for.”

“Like what? Did you hire someone to secretly egg the house while I’ve been here or something?” You tepidly joked.

“No, no.” He chuckled and shook his head. “When my parents got divorced, it was good. Like, a good thing for everyone. We didn’t want our parents to get back together or anything. Our mom had boyfriends here and there, you know, but Dad never even dated. So when he, seemingly out of the blue, got married to this random woman who also had a daughter that he pretty much immediately accepted as his own, after he spent his whole life raising three sons—as I’m saying it, I can hear how asinine and juvenile this is—it felt like he was just getting himself a new family. Like we’d been replaced.”

You blinked at him, slowly nodding as you actively chose to empathize with him instead. “I’m sorry it felt like you and your brothers were pushed out. That must have hurt. Did you talk to your dad at all?”

“Not in any productive way. And really, you don’t have to apologize. I need to apologize,” he tapped his chest insistently. “We were all grown men in our twenties and thirties behaving like children because our dad was finally living his own life and getting married. It was unacceptable the way we treated you and your mom. Especially you, we were downright cruel to you sometimes, and I’m extremely sorry for that.”

“Seriously?!” Jisung finally spoke, harshly spitting the word out. “After everything they did to you? He thinks he can just—”

“I… really wasn’t expecting this when I came over. Uh, thank you.” You knew your surprise was evident on your features, there was no sense in hiding it in your words either. “I hope you don’t mind my asking… Why the change of heart?”

“My wife brought up a good point to me the other day.” He pointed to the doorway that Chaeyeon had disappeared through, a sheepish half-smile on his face. “We were jealous because Dad loved you so much. But he never loved us any less, he just always had more to give. I’d like to actually get to know his other kid that he spent his last few years with.”

“I… Me?” You pointed to yourself hesitantly.

“Yeah, you,” he laughed with a light air of teasing, though this time it didn’t feel mocking. “We were out of line at Dad’s wake. Of course you two were his family, anybody could see that. I’m sorry for all that, too.”

“He did so much more—”

“Thanks, Seohyuk,” you cut Jisung’s angry ramble off, offering your stepbrother a calm, genuine smile.

Seohyuk let out a sudden, loud, raucous sneeze, throwing his elbow up to catch it as he turned away from you.

You snickered fondly. “You sneeze like him.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

“I never noticed…” He lowered his elbow slowly. “Does that mean that I sneeze like a dad?”

“Don’t worry, I do t—”

Something had tickled your nose just then, and you were cut off by the both of you sneezing, nearly identical in volume.

Chaeyeon poked her head back in then, “My God, was that a grenade or you two sneezing?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, Seohyuk giving a couple airy chuckles too.

He gestured to the room where Chaeyeon was, “It’s almost dinner, would you stay and eat with us?”

“I have plans tonight,” you informed him, already thinking of the movies that you and Jisung were going to watch when you got back home.

“Another night? If you want to, no hurt feelings if you’d rather not—I haven’t made myself seem very appealing to hang out with.”

You contemplated this a moment. Your ghost took your pause as an opportunity to let you know his opinion, a loud sigh from behind you. You nodded, “…I could do next week—Monday.”

“Monday!” Seohyuk repeated enthusiastically, clapping his hands once. “Yes, Monday, we can do that. I get home from work at six, uhm, Chaeyeon, will you have appointments that afternoon?”

“Nothing after three.” Chaeyeon’s eyes were sparkling in the warm light from the nearby stylish floor lamp.

“I work in the mornings on Mondays,” you said. “What time should I arrive?”

“Seven? Yeah, dinner should be ready by then,” Seohyuk talked himself through it, flitting his wide, hopeful smile between you and Chaeyeon.

“Or you can get here closer to five and we can hang out first,” Chaeyeon offered to you.

“Or that too!”

“I’ll have some errands to run, seven will probably be the best…” You were still wary of spending so much time here at once.

“Seven it is,” Seohyuk confirmed fervently.

“Why’d you say yes?” Jisung questioned as you pulled a blanket over your laps later that night.

“Mm?” You hummed inquisitively, settling into the corner of the couch. “To dinner at Seohyuk and Chaeyeon’s?”

“Yeah. He was terrible to you, baby. Why even bother?”

You continued humming thoughtfully this time as you tried to piece together all your errant sentiments and feelings about it. “Because he’s making an effort, so I want to, too. And it’s like I said before, Sungie… I’m just tired of fighting with him. It’s so exhausting holding onto all that.”

He was still pouting thoughtfully, brow furrowed. You nudged his side teasingly, “Besides, I’ve got you to hold all my grudges for me.”

Your ghost’s face relaxed just in the slightest as he pulled you closer to plant a kiss on your cheek. “Well, I still don’t forgive him. On your behalf or mine.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He rested his head in the crook of your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Worst six months of my life or afterlife without you.”

You leaned back against the arm of the couch to let him sprawl out on top of you, running a hand through his hair. “That’s fair, I suppose. But I don’t think I can really ask him to apologize to you.”

“He already believes the house is haunted, I bet you could get him on another Ouija board,” he mumbled. “Say you heard a weird noise or something.”

“You really want him back in our house so soon?” You laughed, still playing with his hair.

“No,” he huffed.

“Are you ready to pick the first movie yet or are you still sulking?”

“A couple more minutes…”

You were rushing. You were running late this morning, somehow, and it was only when you got to your bus stop that you realized you’d forgotten your tote bag.

“Whew! Right on time, huh, Sungie?” You looked around breathless at the empty bus stop. Too empty. Jisung wasn’t there, and he didn't pop up like he normally did if he wasn't immediately visible. Then you realized the distinct lack of weight on your shoulder.

“Shit!” You patted your pockets fervently for any spare knobs. You didn't even have your ring or bracelet, having taken your jewelry off in order to shower this morning. Just as you were contemplating running back for Jisung, your bus pulled up, and your decision was made for you. He would just have to stay home today.

Walking into work, you felt weirdly lonely, despite your two desk buddies immediately finding you when you arrived on your floor.

“Y/N!” Sungchan’s head was easily visible over the other personnel around him.

Shotaro was in tow, of course, and they fell into step on either side of you. “Y/N! Yes!”

“Good morning?” You squinted at them. “Is it? Should I be concerned as to why you’re so energetic this early?”

“Shotaro thinks—”

“Dude!” Shotaro scolded Sungchan, reaching behind you to smack him on the shoulder. “Tact? Hello?!”

“Oh, I would love to see how you’re going to do this with tact,” Sungchan scoffed back.

“So I should be concerned,” you surmised dryly, heading straight for the breakroom.

“No! I’m just glad you’re back!” Shotaro said brightly. “Because I have a theory.”

“About?”

“The office ghost.”

You held his eye contact for a silent moment before turning back to making your coffee.

“Listen, I swear, our office is haunted. And I think the ghost has a crush on you or something.”

You squinted at him, taking a slow sip of your coffee. “…What?”

“Well, I started keeping a tally every time something spooky happened for the past month—”

“Oh God, okay,” you sighed and rubbed your face.

“And I noticed a pattern. There’s pretty much no spooky stuff that happens on Tuesdays and Fridays. When you’re not here!”

“Maybe the ghost only works part-time, too,” you snorted.

“Listen, I’m telling you, something’s going to happen today now that you’re back,” Shotaro declared.

“Alright, whatever.” You shook your head. It being this early in the morning was bad enough, but you were going to have to go the whole day without Jisung, which meant it’d be dreadfully boring as well.

Back at your desk, you unlocked your computer and avoided your email, instead pulling up a report that you had been working on for the last few weeks. After putting the finishing touches on it, you sent off copies to the printer, and slowly stood up. You’d have to present it at a meeting right after lunch today, which was why you couldn’t try to sprint back home on your break to fetch Jisung—that would risk being tardy for your meeting.

In the vacant copy room, you leaned against the wall next to the machine printing off your report, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your eyes. Stupid presentation. One of the best parts of working remote was no longer having to present to a conference room full of people on your work. Now you didn’t even have Jisung here to cheer you on. You wondered how your ghost was faring home alone. You were sure he was keeping himself busy like he did before the two of you ever met—reading books, watching TV. Maybe he was even working in the garden in the backyard. The two of you had been working on livening up Hyukjun’s flower beds again after they’d been poorly tended to for so long while you were gone.

You let out a huff. You’d so much rather be home with Jisung in your garden, or at least have him here with you.

“Mm?” A confused noise came from elsewhere in the room, and you immediately opened your eyes and looked over towards the doorway, expecting to see one of your coworkers there coming to make copies of their own. But the door was still closed. Quickly looking around the room, you realized that you weren’t alone, though.

Jisung was looking around the room equally bewildered. You blinked at him in disbelief.

“Y/N? Baby?” He stepped towards you. “I thought you forgot all the knobs?”

“I did…” You whispered, reaching out to wipe some dirt off his cheek. “How…?”

“I don’t know.” He took your hand, rubbing circles into your palm with his thumb. “I was in the backyard weeding and then I was here.”

Remembering when you first experimented with bringing him out of the house with the cabinet knobs, you asked, “How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

Someone turned the doorknob to the copy room then, and you dropped your hand from Jisung’s, turning back towards the printer that you were waiting on. Shotaro entered with some papers, heading towards another machine to start making copies.

“Hey, is it just me, or is it way colder in here than normal?” Your coworker questioned.

“Huh?” You hadn’t even noticed.

“It’s normally the hottest room in the building, especially with the printers going—” He gestured to the machines that you two were standing at. “But I’ve got goosebumps.”

“Maybe they finally fixed the A/C in here?”

Shotaro squinted up at the ceiling panels. “I don’t think there’s a vent…”

“Maybe you’re sick.”

“Office ghost,” he declared triumphantly. “What did I tell you? You’re back, the ghost is back. It likes you.”

Jisung giggled at this as you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress your fond smile for your ghost.

“Or maybe it hates me and that’s why it’s only haunting me specifically,” you suggested sarcastically, making Jisung laugh even harder. “Have you ever—”

“Shh!” Shotaro suddenly cut you off harshly, glancing around wildly.

“What?” You looked around too, wondering what exactly he was doing. Jisung had also stopped laughing at the sudden shift in tone, also peering around curiously.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I swear, I just heard a guy laughing,” Shotaro insisted.

Suppressing your panic, you coolly offered a solution, “You probably did. The walls are really thin here.”

“It didn’t sound like anybody who works here.”

“You know how everybody in this building laughs?”

Shotaro’s face fell, and you felt a little bad for raining on the guy’s parade. “Well, no…”

Your reports had finished printing, and you grabbed all the papers from the tray, securing them in your arms. Patting your office friend on the shoulder, you gave him the best words of encouragement that you could in the moment, “I’m sure the office ghost like you too, Shotaro.”

Jisung nodded solemnly, opting not to say anything this time as he followed you out. You opened the door widely, pretending to struggle with the stack of papers in your arms for a moment so that your ghost could slip out with you. With Shotaro apparently hearing him for a second, you didn’t trust that there wasn’t some slim chance that he could accidentally get clipped by it somehow.

You toured around your floor of the office, dropping off copies of the report to each employee who would be attending the meeting so they could review it beforehand. Jisung silently shadowed you until you had dropped off all your copies except one and ended up in a newer part of the floor with rows of empty conference rooms. You ducked into one, locking the door behind you.

“How did you get here?” You kept your voice just above a whisper, patting down your pockets again, just in case you had a cabinet knob or spare piece of foundation or something that you had somehow forgotten about in there. Nothing, of course. “And did Shotaro just hear you?!”

“I don’t know!” Jisung threw his hands up, then grimaced. “Maybe?!”

“Keep your voice down!” You reminded him emphatically, gesturing for him to calm down.

He slapped a hand over his mouth with a sheepish wince, immediately switching to an even quieter whisper than yours, “Sorry… Not used to whispering.”

“I know.” You leaned against the wall, pursing your lips thoughtfully. “What exactly were you doing before you showed up here?”

“Weeding, like I said.”

“Wait, you had dirt on your face. You never get dirty.”

Jisung looked down at his hands, as if expecting to see them caked with even more dirt. They were clean, but that did nothing to help the uneasy feeling growing in you.

“It didn’t feel like when I would get yanked home.” Your ghost scrunched his nose thoughtfully. “When we were still figuring out the knobs and stuff. I mean, my head feels fine.”

“What about when I bring you with me usually?”

“No, it’s like…” He sighed as he couldn’t seem to find the right words, and switched trains of thought. “What were you doing? Before I showed up?”

“Exactly what you saw me doing. Waiting for my stuff to print,” you shrugged. “And thinking about how much I missed you, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s what it was like.”

“Like what?”

“I got this feeling like someone had called my name, but I didn’t hear anything.”

You sighed and checked the time. “I need to get ready for my presentation this afternoon. You’ve got to stay quiet today, Sungie. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” He nodded. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“For once,” you teased, pecking his cheek.

Your presentation went over fine, and after, you headed for Mr. Choi’s office, knocking on the open door to get his attention.

“Ah, Y/N, come in,” he waved you in with a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Mr. Choi.” you offered a faint smile back. “Uhm, I’m not feeling very well. I just wanted to see if I could leave early today?”

“You did look a little distracted during your presentation.” He nodded sympathetically. “Yes, go rest. And if you need to stay offline tomorrow, by all means, please do.”

“Thanks.”

Rushing to close out your programs and turn your computer off, you gave Shotaro and Sungchan hasty goodbyes before fleeing the building, Jisung on your heels.

“How do you feel?” You checked in with him quietly as you speedwalked down the sidewalks.

“Fine. Good.” He kept his voice down.

The two of you were silent until you made it home, where you grabbed your bag from the hook by the front door and took it into the living room, dumping the contents onto the floor. Immediately, you picked out the six that you kept stored in there. You jumped to your feet to run up the stairs and into your bathroom, where the other two were sitting exactly where you left them on the sink. Taking them back downstairs to show Jisung, you dropped back down to your knees to set all eight together, letting out a sigh. You knew you didn’t have any with you today, but the whole time that you were at work, there was still some non-zero chance that maybe you just hadn’t checked your pockets well enough, maybe one was somewhere, you couldn’t be absolutely sure until you saw it with your own eyes. And now you did.

“What the hell is going on?” You whispered.

“Try going down the street?” Jisung suggested. “Without anything?”

You held your hands up to show that you weren’t holding anything as you left the house—alone—and began walking down the street. You were far out of the lay lines of the property, at the end of the block, when Jisung popped up next to you.

You stared at him in shock. He stared back.

“Did you do that on purpose?” You asked. “At all?”

“I don’t know. Did you?”

“How would I have done that?”

He shrugged. “How would I?”

“It can’t be my clothes or anything, I just got like this whole outfit in the past couple months,” you huffed, still trying to brainstorm.

“Y/N, I think—” Jisung looked at you with wide eyes. “I think it’s you. I think I’m connected to you somehow.”

“I’m home!” The words were hardly out of your mouth when Jisung popped into the foyer.

He looked startled, barely sticking the landing as his head whipped around, a book in his hand. Your ghost let out a huff as he found his footing, closing the book on his thumb. “I wish you’d stop doing that. I was upstairs reading.”

“Sorry, Sungie.” You pecked his cheek, hanging your bag up. “I’m not trying, honest.”

Jisung’s annoyance quickly faded as he leaned down to kiss you. “I know, baby. I’m not mad, it just spooks me every time.”

“A ghost getting spooked,” you repeated humorously, walking further into your house.

“I’ll start on dinner.”

“Oh!” You stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Chaeyeon called me on my way home and asked if they could drop the baby off, by the way. Apparently Seohyuk has a last-minute work thing and they couldn’t find anybody else to watch her.”

“Ah. Okay.”

After getting out of your work clothes, you found Jisung in the kitchen again, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek to his back. “Thank you. I know it’s got to suck being here alone all day and then having people come over.”

Since the debacle with Shotaro hearing Jisung at work, you’d been erring on the side of caution and leaving Jisung home when you went to work. It made your days lonelier, and you knew he hated it too, but it was just too hard to bring him out to the same place over and over like that. Especially when you had a paranoid coworker quite literally ghost-hunting constantly.

On top of that, you hadn’t had to bring a single cabinet knob with you anywhere in order to bring Jisung along in the time since, seemingly confirming his suspicions. He was no longer anchored to the house.

“I haven’t met the baby yet,” his voice sounded like he was forcing pep into it. “I’m looking forward to it.”

When Chaeyeon had given birth, you visited the new parents and baby at their house, leaving your ghost at home for the brief meet-up. This would be the first time the family came to your place.

“They’re not staying, at least,” you reminded him. “Chaeyeon and Seohyuk. They’re just dropping SooSoo off and then picking her up after.”

“How long is she going to be here for?”

“A few hours. Don’t worry, I’ll hold her,” you teased.

Jisung snorted lightly, continuing to chop the food. “Good idea.”

Your ghost stayed upstairs while Chaeyeon and Seohyuk brought SooSoo in, handing her and all her supplies off to you. After giving you the rundown of all the basics, they rushed back out with final goodbye pecks on the cheek to both of you. You laughed and waved them off, shutting the door behind the couple.

Upon hearing the front door close, you saw Jisung hesitantly peeking down the stairs. You chuckled, “Coast is clear, Jisung.”

“I can’t believe that’s really him.” He shook his head, taking the baby’s bag off your shoulder for you.

“Who, Seohyuk?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “He was like… nice to you. Actually nice.”

“I keep telling you he’s been trying.” You walked into the living room, gently bouncing SooSoo in your arms.

“You’re good with her,” Jisung said, coming to stand next to you.

“You think so?” You beamed, playing with the baby’s tiny fingers. “This is the first one I’ve held.”

“Do you—” He cut himself off, staring at SooSoo with wide eyes. He slowly moved to the left, then the right. You watched his movements with confusion. He looked at you, disbelief clear on his face. “Can the baby see me?”

“What?” You looked down at her, seeing that it did appear as though her eyes were focused on a spot in the air over your shoulder where Jisung was. He moved to the right, and the baby’s eyes tracked him. He then moved to your left shoulder, and they once again followed. She continued watching him as he shifted back to hovering over your right shoulder, and you were really beginning to think that this wasn’t a coincidence.

You furrowed your brow. “Huh…”

Jisung clapped his hands directly in front of her face, and she flinched and blinked.

“Okay, okay,” you chastised him, pushing his hands away from her face. “This didn’t happen when the Kims were little, did it? It’s not like a ‘kids can see ghosts better’ thing, right?”

“No, they had no clue I was there. Babies, children, adults. Nobody ever did this.”

“Looks like you’ve got an imaginary friend, SooSoo,” you chuckled, gently tapping the tip of her nose.

“I’m not imaginary, just incorporeal,” he scoffed, but nevertheless reached around you to adjust her blanket for her.

“Do you think it has something to do with everything else?” You asked quietly. “Shotaro heard you, we don’t need the knobs anymore, now SooSoo can see you…”

“I don’t know.”

“Right. No ghost manual.”

Jisung stayed put as you sat down on the couch, readjusting the baby in your lap. You didn’t love the pensive look still on his features, especially when he didn’t seem to notice you patting the spot next to you in an invite for him to join you.

“Sungie?” You called for him quietly. “Everything okay?”

“I was thinking…” He looked at SooSoo, then held your gaze, obviously conflicted. “Do you want kids someday?”

“Oh.” You knew exactly where his mind had gone. “I-I don’t know. Definitely not right now—”

“But in the future—”

“I said I don’t know, Jisung,” you reiterated. “But what I absolutely do know, is that I love you. Okay? Can that be enough for now?”

“Okay. Yeah.” He nodded, finally joining you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I love you too.”

Chaeyeon and Seohyuk finally came back long after SooSoo had gone to sleep, and just before you were about to follow her lead, nodding off in a corner of the couch. Jisung stopped gently rocking the baby’s carseat when the doorbell rang, shaking your shoulder to make sure you were fully awake. You nodded, reluctantly getting to your feet as he wordlessly took off upstairs. Opening the front door, you greeted the couple, covering your mouth as a yawn escaped. You all chatted about the event as they gathered their daughter and the baby bag from the floor in front of the couch.

Chaeyeon parted the blankets around SooSoo, then rooted around through the bag that was on her husband’s shoulder. “Did she have her pink elephant when she came? I thought she did, but I don’t see it…”

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” You peered around your living room, unable to see the stuffed animal as well. “I think it might be in my room, hold on.” You held up a finger for them to wait a moment, heading for the stairs.

Jisung was already on the ground with his head and arm under the bed when you walked in. You lightly pushed the door closed behind you as he scooted back out, victoriously holding a small, pink, stuffed elephant above his head.

“Thank you, Sungie,” you said quietly, reaching out for the toy. Except he jerked it out of your reach at the last second, holding it above his head with a teasing glint in his eye. You narrowed your eyes at him, continuing to whisper, “I don’t have time for this.”

“Alright, alright,” he snickered, setting the elephant down in your waiting palm. He used his other hand to grab your wrist, pulling you closer and pecking your forehead.

You looked up, leaning in to kiss him when you heard the creak of a floorboard right outside your bedroom door.

“You need some help in—?” Seohyuk cut his own question short as he knocked on your slightly ajar door, causing it to swing open. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you had company…”

You froze, staring between the two of them as you realized that Seohyuk’s gaze was focused directly on Jisung. Immediately, you panicked, reeling back from your ghost as you tried to stay calm, process what the hell was going on, and manage the real-life façade of whatever Seohyuk must be thinking. The further you stepped away from Jisung, the more certain you were that Seohyuk could see him, his eyes flicking between the two of you very deliberately.

“Oh, no, it’s fine, uhm, Seohyuk, this is… my friend Jisung. I told him he could stop by whenever to borrow a book, I didn’t realize…” You trailed off awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck as you shuffled even further away from your ghost.

It was Jisung’s turn to look at you incredulously, clearly upset now at being introduced as your ‘friend.’ You cleared your throat awkwardly, gesturing between them. “Jisung, this is my brother Seohyuk.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Seohyuk flashed him a brilliant smile as he offered a hand for him to shake.

You watched with bated breath as Jisung seemed to debate doing this for a moment, then took it. To your relief and bewilderment, Jisung’s hand didn’t go through Seohyuk’s, and they shook… normally.

Seohyuk then pointed at the elephant in your hand. “Ellie and I will see you downstairs, Y/N.”

You meekly held the toy out for him to take without another word. He headed out of the room, and you nearly collapsed as soon as he was out of your sight. But you didn’t have time for that yet.

“I’m sorry, just go to the pond, I’ll come get you when they’re gone, okay?” You told Jisung in a hushed voice before he could voice any of his complaints at being called your friend, surprise at Seohyuk seeing him, or anything else. You had to get your family out of the house first.

He let out a short sigh, but nodded. “Alright, alright.”

You walked him down the stairs and to the front door, keeping a polite amount of distance between you two, well aware of the two pairs of eyes watching you from the living room. Opening the front door, you gave Jisung a courteous nod. “Alright, uh, bye, Jisung.”

“Yeah, uhm, goodnight, Y/N.” His eyes darted between you and over your shoulder, and you could tell it was taking everything in him not to habitually kiss you goodbye.

“Nice to meet you, Jisung!” Seohyuk called out from the living room.

“Uh, yeah, you too!” He replied, giving a final wave over his shoulder before departing.

You nearly slammed the door shut behind him, taking a deep breath in to calm yourself down before turning around.

Seohyuk grinned at you as you walked back into the living room. “Friend, huh?”

“Oh my God, shut up.”

“I’m just saying… he didn’t leave with a book.”

“Oh, you’re the worst!” You huffed as he burst into laughter.

Chaeyeon shook her head, handing SooSoo’s carseat to her husband.

“I swear, you two bicker like real siblings now,” she commented, wrapping an arm around your shoulders protectively. “Seohyuk, leave her alone.”

“What? You didn’t see them, Chae, it was—”

“Drop it.”

“Fine, fine.” He held his free hand up, still with the same shit-eating grin.

“We’re going to get out of your hair now, hon,” Chaeyeon declared, squeezing your arm. She then looked at Seohyuk pointedly.

After giving the three of them your final goodbyes at the door, you closed it and locked it up behind them before dashing to the front window. Through a small crack between two blinds, you watched them load up Seohyuk’s new, sensible SUV before pulling away from the curb. Once you were certain they would be several streets away, you threw on a pair of shoes and ran out the door. Despite how dark it was, you knew the way to the pond by heart.

When you first entered the clearing, you couldn’t see your ghost, and your heart jumped to your throat. You took out your phone, shining the flashlight around everywhere. “Jisung?!” You cried out.

“Right here.” He appeared in front of you. “That still works, apparently.”

“God, what the hell just happened?!” You took his hand, marching back home with him in tow.

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, Seohyuk not only could hear you, but see you and touch you?!”

“I know.”

“What the fuck is going on?!”

“I don’t know.”

You lifted his hand that you were hold up, shining your flashlight directly on it. He didn’t look or feel any different—cool to the touch, and he had always had some color to him. With your fast, anxious pace, it didn’t take you long to get back home, dragging him back inside.

Just in the foyer, you stopped and indicated for him to stay right there. Holding up your phone with the camera open, you took a picture of Jisung without even looking at the screen. The suspense didn’t last long, as you swiped to view the image, nearly dropping your phone in shock. Instead of the normal shadowy glitch in frame, your ghost was staring right back, his dark eyes wide open as he looked past the camera directly at you.

You wordlessly turned the phone around to show him. He reached out towards the screen, then pulled his hand back, resting his index finger in the center of his chest.

“Th-That’s me?” He asked hesitantly. “Right?”

“Yeah, Sungie,” you replied hoarsely. “That’s you.”

“What the hell is happening?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”

“Do you feel okay?” Jisung asked abruptly.

“Huh?” You hurried to swallow the bite of food that you had just taken. “Yeah, Sungie, I feel fine. It’s not that hot yet.”

You had taken advantage of the cool spring day to do some much-needed weeding in the gardens, and were taking a break to eat the lunch that Jisung had just made for you. He took a sip of his lemonade before setting the cup down on the porch step beside him. Another new development: he could eat and drink now. He wasn’t necessarily hungry or thirsty like you, but he enjoyed food again.

“I don’t mean the weather, I mean—” He ran a hand through his hair as he took a minute to try to piece his words together. “All this that’s been happening. I’m definitely tied to you now, not the house. But I don’t want… to be… taking anything from you. Your soul, or life force, or whatever. I don’t know what’s going on, but if you feel any worse for it, then—”

“No, God, no,” you reassured him, putting your plate aside to scoot closer to him and wrap an arm around him. “I feel just fine, I promise.”

“Would you tell me if it was making you feel worse?”

“I would tell you if I didn’t feel good, yes, but whether or not that would hypothetically be connected is an entirely different question.”

He sighed, wringing his hands between his knees. “I’m just worried, Y/N. And scared. I don’t know what’s happening to us and I don’t like that.”

“I don’t like not knowing either,” you agreed quietly. “But it’s not hurting me, okay? And it’s not hurting you—Well, other than when you stubbed your toe the other day.”

“How was I supposed to know it was going to do that?” He whined, grabbing his foot through his shoe.

Yet another new thing—Jisung could feel physical pain again. Before, the only sort of harm he would come into was his headaches if he was going from the house for too long and got pulled back. Now, if he wasn’t careful to go through an object, he could hurt himself on it just like you. Bruise and all.

“Shotaro misses you, by the way,” you informed him. “He was lamenting the lack of office ghost activity lately.”

“Funny enough, I kinda miss him too,” Jisung admitted. “It’s so boring being stuck here all day now.”

“Mr. Choi put another dinner on our calendars next week, you know…” You said cautiously. “Do you want to come?”

He blinked at you. “Like… on purpose?”

“Yeah, it’s open to significant others too. We’re pretty certain everyone can see you now,” you reminded him, thinking of all the cashiers, strangers in public, and neighbors that had interacted with Jisung at this point.

“I—Yes, okay,” he agreed happily, looking down at his lap.

“Good, you’ll need lots of practice.”

“Practice for what?!”

“SooSoo’s birthday party next month.”

Down the street from the restaurant that you were supposed to meeting your coworkers at, you stopped Jisung on the sidewalk. Fixing his collar, you reminded him, “Okay, Sungie, remember, you’ve never met these people before. You can’t say stuff that you’re not supposed to know.”

“I know, I know,” he huffed, but stayed still as you messed with his hair too.

“How long have we been dating?”

“Three years.”

“Where did we meet?”

“The library.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a… freelance… graphic designer…?” He answered uncertainly, watching your face with each syllable.

“You have got to be more convincing than that.”

“I barely understand what that is!” He replied indignantly. “What if they ask me questions?”

“You just have to say that your clients make you sign NDAs so you can’t say anything about your projects!” You said. “Or pick a different job, I don’t know! Something that’s easy to talk around. I just don’t want you getting asked questions that are hard to answer.”

He shook his head. “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, you’re my boyfriend and I want to introduce you to my coworkers.” You took his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I want you here. I’m not going to keep you locked up forever.”

Jisung took a deep breath, squeezing your hand tight. “Alright, okay. Let’s do it.”

Pushing the door open, you immediately spotted the table of your coworkers in the corner, waving to them as you walked over. Mr. Choi stood up to greet you, giving you a one-armed hug. His wife stood up as well, kissing your cheek.

“So good to see you, sweetheart.” She was absolutely beaming as she drew back and moved her expectant gaze to Jisung next to you.

You inhaled, starting the introductions. “This is my boyfriend, Jisung. Jisung, this is my supervisor, Mr. Choi, and his wife, Dahyun.”

Mr. Choi shook Jisung’s hand, broad grin on his face. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, sir,” Jisung coughed over the crack in his voice, giving him the best bow that he could in the cramped space of the restaurant.

You were the last ones to arrive, and Sungchan thankfully scooted over to make room for you at the very end. Hastily doing introductions between everyone, you then started looking over the menu with Jisung.

“So, what do you do, Jisung?” Sungchan asked from your other side, taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh, I’m uh, I’m a freelance…” Your ghost trailed off, and you squeezed his knee under the table to think of something fast before you would have to. “Photographer! Sorry, this menu just looks so good, I zoned out. I’m a photographer, yeah.”

Well, not the worst choice in the world.

Shotaro perked up from across the table. “Oh! Do you help Y/N with all those crazy pictures she posts?”

Jisung nodded hastily, latching onto the life preserver that your coworker had unknowingly thrown him. “Yes, yes I do.”

“They’re really cool,” Sungchan complimented him. “Is it all photo editing or is some of the effect practical?”

You looked over at your ghost to gauge if he was going to need your help on this one. He was frozen as he was clearly wracking his brain for how to answer, so you decided to swoop in.

“Some of it’s practical,” you answered for him. “But it’s a proprietary technique so he really can’t say much more than that…”

Sungchan held his hands up in surrender. “Ah, okay.”

“Do you have your own account?” Shotaro asked eagerly, bringing his phone out. “She never tags anyone.”

“So stingy with the credit,” Sungchan clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No, I don’t,” Jisung hastily replied. “I’m not really into that sort of stuff…”

“How do you get clients then? If you’re a freelancer but you don’t have social media?”

“Well…”

Seeing that he was panicking again, you smoothly took over, “Word of mouth. He’s just that good.”

Your coworkers seemed both impressed and satisfied, nodding to themselves and each other. “Cool, cool.”

As a waiter came around to start taking everyone’s orders, you patted Jisung’s leg under the table, reassuring him that he’d passed the first part of the gauntlet. He grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

As soon as the front door clicked shut behind you, Jisung let out a guttural groan, sinking to the floor against the hallway wall. He dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head.

“How do you do it?” He bemoaned.

“Do what?” You chuckled, hanging your purse up.

“Talk to that many people for so long.”

“Aw, my poor introverted ghost.” You pouted sympathetically, squatting down in front of him.

“I had friends when I was alive. A bunch. I saw them all the time. Every day!”

“Death changed you, Sungie.”

“Ugh…”

You stroked his hair. “So, do you not want to go to SooSoo’s birthday party? It’s fine if you don’t, I haven’t told them I’m bringing a guest yet, I was waiting to see how tonight went.”

Jisung lifted his head up just enough to rest his chin in his palms, squishing his cheeks up. “No, I had fun. I just… need to get used to people again. I’m not used to having to talk to people who aren’t you. I want to go to the birthday party with you. Especially since those people will be there.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” You smiled, gently tweaking his cheek. “Rule one, you can’t call them ‘those people.’ At least not to their face.”

“Fine.”

“Ready, baby?” Jisung asked as you turned the corner onto Seohyuk and Chaeyeon’s street.

“Mhm,” you responded, looking over at him skeptically. “Are you ready?”

“They’re family,” he replied seriously.

You snickered, leaning over to peck his cheek. “I almost believed you, Sungie. Good job.”

“Just don’t leave me alone with Hyukjun’s ex-wife,” he begged, breaking his facade.

“I won’t, I won’t,” you assured him. “Seohyuk says his mom’s been going to AA, though, and Joohyuk has been in anger management counseling ever since his wife left him, and that Minhyuk has totally mellowed out after experiencing empathy for the first time when he tried ayahuasca in Peru last month. So who knows, they might be better.”

“What a family,” he scoffed. “Can’t believe you’re dating a ghost and you’re like, the most normal one.”

“Debatable.”

“Okay, one of the most normal ones.”

You nodded towards the approaching house. “Get it out of your system now, there’s the front door.”

A serene smile spread across his face. “I’m done, and I’m perfectly nice now and will not bring any of that up for the rest of the afternoon.”

You had barely finished knocking when the front door swung open, Seohyuk on the other side. Your stepbrother immediately went to hug you. “Hey, Y/N. Glad you could make it.”

“Hi, Seohyuk. Wouldn’t miss it.” You patted his back. “Can’t believe she’s a year old already.”

“I know,” he sighed wistfully. Letting you go, he turned to Jisung, mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m Seohyuk, Y/N’s brother. Jisung, right?”

“Yes, it’s great to see you again.” Your ghost accepted his handshake.

You mouthed ‘cool it’ over Seohyuk’s shoulder at Jisung’s way too enthusiastic greeting, and he immediately reworked his expression, relaxing his face a bit more. Seohyuk stepped back and gestured you two inside, closing the door behind you. He guided you further in, pointing to where Jisung could put down the gift bag he had been carrying.

Chaeyeon spotted you from where she had been chatting with a few other guests, excusing herself before darting over to you, throwing her arms around your neck. “Y/N!”

“Chaeyeon!” You laughed, hugging her back. “We just got tea last week.”

“Yes, I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t be excited to see you now.”

You turned around to where Jisung was awkwardly standing a couple steps behind you and latched onto his arm, dragging him over. “Chaeyeon, this is my boyfriend Jisung. Jisung, this is my sister-in-law Chaeyeon.”

She was absolutely cheesing as she turned to Jisung, stacking both hands over her chest as she was trying to contain her excitement. “Can I hug you? You can say no, I’m a hugger, but it’s fine, I totally get it.”

“Uhm yeah?” Jisung agreed before nearly being bowled over by Chaeyeon. “Oh!”

You covered your hand in an attempt to stifle your laugh. The hug was fleeting, as Chaeyeon let him go and grabbed your arm again, her face turning serious. She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially, and you had to strain your ears to hear her over the noise of all the other partygoers and children playing.

“Okay, so drinks are in the kitchen—no alcohol since Jieun is recovering, you know. We didn’t think it was necessary since it’s a kid’s birthday anyway. You already know, don’t ask Joohyuk where his wife is. And Minhyuk… for your own sake, don’t ask about his trip to South America unless you want to hear him talk about the spiritual benefits of psychedelics for two hours straight,” she debriefed you quietly. “Here, I’ll introduce you guys to some of my friends from the mom pilates class that I attend; they’re cool, I promise!”

With that, Chaeyeon took off, leaving you to catch up. You grabbed Jisung’s hand, chuckling as you followed after your sister-in-law.

Later in the party found you sat on the couch, chatting with two of Chaeyeon’s mom-ilates friends. Jisung emerged from the kitchen where he had been getting plates of food for the both of you, looking flustered as he dropped into the empty spot next to you.

“Finally,” you commented, accepting your plate from him. “What took you so long? Was there a line for the pretzels?”

“Minhyuk cornered me,” he groaned, covering his face with one hand. “I didn’t even ask about Peru, I told him you were waiting but that just made it worse. As soon as I brought you up, he started saying something about how when he was tripping, he realized how terrible they all were to you, and he started crying? I really don’t think he’s okay, like mentally…”

You let out a sputtering laugh, rubbing Jisung’s shoulder sympathetically. “Sounds rough, Sungie.”

“Leechan!” One of the moms suddenly barked out her son’s name, shooting to her feet. She shot you an annoyed look before stomping off to grab a boy from a tussle that had broken out.

The other mom that had been with you let out a sigh as she calmly finished her last bite of cake before setting her plate down and getting up as well. “Ryujin! That’s it! We’re going!”

“Remember how you asked me if I wanted kids?” You asked Jisung quietly, making sure to turn your head so only he heard you.

“Mhm?” His voice wavered.

“Yeah, no,” you scoffed. “I’ll be Aunt Y/N for the rest of my life, thanks.”

He snickered, rubbing your back. “That’s—”

Jisung suddenly froze, his eyes going wide and snapping down to the floor in front of the couch. You looked down to see what had startled him, immediately spotting your niece clambering over his feet and attempting to climb up his legs.

“SooSoo, your Uncle Jisung is not a jungle gym,” Seohyuk chastised his daughter lightly, scooping her up in his arms.

The toddler giggled, babbling as she still reached her chubby little arms out towards your ghost.

“Do you want to hold her?” Your stepbrother offered.

Jisung looked at you hesitantly. You chuckled, reaching for his plate on his lap. “Do you, Sungie? It’s okay if you don’t, but I can hold your plate for you if you want.”

“Sure?” He opened his arms as you moved the food, clearing the way for Seohyuk to deposit the birthday girl there.

“Relax, Jisung,” Seohyuk laughed. “She won’t bite. Probably.” He perked up and turned around as his name was called from across the room. “Yeah, coming, Mom!”

That left you, Jisung, and SooSoo. You poked your niece’s belly, making her laugh, the sound ringing through the air like bells. She reached for Jisung again, this time succeeding in grabbing the chain that was hanging around his neck and yanking on it. He jerked forward with it in surprise.

“Ah, gentle, sweet,” you reminded her, fishing the rest of his necklace from under his collar. He was able to sit up straight again as SooSoo was fascinated by the starburst pendant, which matched the ring on your own finger.

“She’s so…”

“Big?” You suggested humorously, playing with the single tuft of hair tied up on top of her head that reminded you of a leek. You were thinking about the first time you saw her after she was born, when she was just a few pounds, compared to now.

“Little,” Jisung finished, his voice quiet but filled with awe.

You looked at him a little funny, scooting in closer to continue your conversation at a lower volume. “You were there when the Kims were all babies, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t really there,” he murmured. “And they were kinda… I don’t know, boring. They were babies, they didn’t do anything. I don’t think I learned their names until they could talk.”

You laughed much louder than you had been talking, drawing a couple passing glances. Burying your face in Jisung’s shoulder to muffle yourself, you were easily able to picture a disinterested, aloof ghost Jisung turning up his nose at a “boring” baby Seohyuk asleep in a crib. As tears eked out the sides of your eyes, you felt your ghost drop a kiss to the top of your head, the curl of his smile evident.

That night, you were happy and bone-achingly tired, but some part of your brain couldn’t seem to get the memo. With a sigh, you opened your nightstand drawer, rooting around for your bottle of sleeping meds.

Jisung shuffled out of bed. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

The bedroom door opened, stairs squeaked, and distantly, in the dead silence of the house, you could hear the kitchen faucet. Then, the stairs squeaked again, and Jisung closed the door behind him. As you sat up to accept the cup from him, you squinted at him inquisitively.

“Did you use the door?”

He looked back at the door, blinking hurriedly as he belatedly realized what happened. “Yeah, I did. I guess I was practicing so much to make sure I didn’t walk through anything in front of your family that I forgot.”

As he climbed back into bed, you knocked back the pill and set your water aside. Ruffling Jisung’s hair, you smiled at him fondly, feeling your chest swell. “Thank you, Sungie. I love you so much. I know that all this must be so hard and scary, and you’ve been doing so much for me. Really, thank you.”

“Ah, Y/N,” he chuckled nervously, ducking his head. He picked up your hand, though, playing with your fingers as he spoke, eyes focused on your entwined hands. “Thank you. I’m… You made me real. I know we don’t know for sure what’s going on, but that’s what I believe.”

“Real?” You echoed tentatively.

His hand phased through yours, a chill zipping up your arm, then he turned solid again, fingertips skimming over your pulse point on your wrist. “I’m not human again. I-I don’t know if I ever will be. I don’t want to get our hopes up. But I’m more than I was before you.”

You grabbed his hand, wrapping yours around the back of it and closing all of his fingers except his pointer. “You’re enough for me no matter what you are, Jisung.” You lifted your hands to your chest, drawing an X over your heart. “If we woke up tomorrow and you were incorporeal again, you’d still be the love of my life.”

“You’re the love of my life and afterlife.” Jisung pulled your hands over to him, drawing one leg of the X on ‘life’ and the other on ‘afterlife.’ “Cross my heart.”

“No fair pulling the afterlife card,” you teased, using your other hand to drag him into a kiss.

He kissed you unhurriedly, caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers. When you broke away for air, he squeezed your hand, tender gaze tracing over your features. “Guess I’ll always love you more, then.”

“Nuh-uh!” You retorted childishly, even as you were beginning to struggle with keeping your eyes open.

“Getting sleepy?” He asked smugly.

“Maybe.”

“Lay down, I’ll read to you.”

“Fine, but you didn’t win.”

“Alright, alright,” he hummed, reaching for the book on his nightstand. Settling down under the covers, you let your eyes close as Jisung began reading. Your ghost’s deep voice gently started lulling you to sleep as he kept one hand clasped with yours, resting over your heart.

⤷ masterlist

TAGLIST

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@tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal

@sofipolii01

@winkeuu

[nowimjustastranger]

Has Stcmo Ford come across a dimension that alerted him a Stanley was in danger, but he got there, everything seems fine. Keyword “seems”.

And after numerous checks, everything seems like in order. On the surface it just looks like another dimension with Ford, Fiddleford and Stan living together in gravity falls.

But there is just SOMETHING that feels immensely wrong about this dimension.

Like the way that this Stanley and Fiddleford seem a little too overly content with their lives, they aren’t seem to be lost or forgetting things so it can’t be the memory gun. And by the looks of it, the Bill Cipher of this dimension is dead.

In fact the more Stcmo Ford looks into it…

Filbrick is dead, Fiddleford’s wife Emma-May seems to be dead, Shermie is dead, newspapers on about the last few years show that many gang leaders have either gone mysteriously missing or have seemed to have been killed. Jimmy Snakes, Rico, several people who knew Stanley in prison are dead as well. Many people that would be considered a threat have been killed.

There’s something off about this Ford as well, he seems to always be watching Fiddleford and Stanley, the two always were within watch.

Like a wolf watching over his two sheep.

Not entirely sure what era this is happening in, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume it's a "Mystery Trio AU" type situation, so it would be set in the early years in Gravity Falls.

Ford has been in Dimension 1R^86 for three days now and he's nearly at his wits end, he has no idea what the threat is or even where it might come from. He hasn't slept at all either, maintaining constant vigilance of the shack and it's inhabitants.

Ford is currently perched in one of the large trees surrounding the shack, hidden in the branches with a direct line of sight to both entrances. There's been nothing, no activity around the shack within a fifty foot radius. Which is another thing, Ford hasn't spotted so much as a gnome rooting through the trash in the three days he's been watching.

It's... something's not right but he can't put a finger on what.

With a growl, Ford's eyes flick to the icon in the top corner of his hud, selecting it with a thought so the data flooded onto the screen, his proximity sensors online to warn him if anything tries to sneak up on him while he's preoccupied.

D – 1R^86 | 29 yo | COD: Blunt Force Trauma

No change.

Ford exited out of the data with a frustrated huff, he'd done a lot of digging into the deaths that surrounded Stan and the results all pointed toward one Ford Pines being the culprit, but the way that he watched over his brother and Fiddleford so intently made it highly unlikely that he was the threat.

The Ford in this dimension reminded Ford 419"3 of himself, an ambush predator watching and waiting for the opportunity to strike. A wolf that muzzled itself in the presence of it's sheep so they would not be afraid, because despite the wolf's nature, those sharp teeth and claws were never meant for the sheep.

They were for other predators.

Other predators that might also be watching and waiting for the wolf to stray too far from the sheep, waiting for the wolf's teeth to go dull as it grew fat and lazy within the comfort of it's den. But not these wolves who starved themselves to keep their body lean, who kept their teeth sharp with frequent hunts, who lulled other predators into a false sense of security by leaving the sheep unattended-

Wait. Shit. How long ago did the Ford leave the house?

His proximity sensors shrieked at him and Ford barely managed to dodge the first bolt that had been aimed at his side, the second burying itself in his calf. So the Ford was looking to incapacitate and not kill, not exactly a comforting realization.

Ford's landing was sloppy, his leg buckling when he hit the ground in a crouch, giving the Ford just enough time to line up a clear shot. Neither moved, both waiting to see what the other would do. The Ford's aim was steady and his finger poised to shoot, his empty stare more akin to a shark than a wolf.

"You've been scurrying around for long enough, little rat." The Ford spoke calmly, with a voice void of emotion. It was unnerving, how robotic this Ford was when he wasn't with his brother and Fiddleford, like he was removing a mask. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."

"Your brother is going to die." Ford divulged, watching the Ford's hands flex on the crossbow, indecisive. Ford could work with that. "I can stop it from happening, but only if you let me work."

"You really think I'm going to trust you at your word?" The Ford asked with an ominous tilt of his head, dark eyes studying Ford as if he were a specimen. It made Ford's skin crawl, fingers twitching with the urge to gouge the Ford eyes out just so he would stop looking at Ford the same way He used to.

"You're going to have to because if you kill me, your brother is as good as dead."

[yaniluvs]

⋆. ˚ ⛇☃︎ ⌇ 승민 : HOLD MY HAND ── you might have just crossed a boundary– catching feelings for your fwb, who is also your dormmate.

𓍯 fwb!seungmin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）3.3k ── ༯ TWOSHOT, fluff, 'apparent' unrequited love, tense, dormmates | friends with benefits, uni au, angsty, happy ending, short? ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ kim seungmin the man you are. suddenly im obsessing over fanfics so here's the outcome :3 comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! happy seungmo day and happy reading <3

the night was thick with the kind of silence that made every little sound feel magnified. the rustling of her sheets, the faint crack of his breathing, even the soft creaks of the bed beneath her felt louder than the thoughts swirling around in her restless head.

she turned over again for what felt like the hundredth time, face buried in her pillow as she tried to will herself to fall asleep. 

but her mind was wide awake, racing in that frustrating way it did sometimes, hopping from one thought to the next with no intention of slowing down. the warmth from the body beside her, instead of comforting you into rest, only added to your awareness. 

he lay still, his back rising and falling gently in rhythm. his arm, usually flung over her waist, had fallen away sometime in the night, giving her space, but her squirming was testing the limits of even his patience.

a loud sigh slipped out, unintentional but filled with the kind of frustration she only felt when she’s tired, and can't do anything about it.

she felt movement before she heard him, the mattress dipping slightly as he shifted beside her. “y/n,” he mumbled, his voice low and hoarse, dripping with sleep. "what are you doing?"

startled, she froze. she hadn't meant to wake him. 

he really didn’t wake easily, so the fact that he was up meant she’d been tossing and turning for a while.

"sorry," she muttered, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her as she turned on her side to face him. the dim light filtering through the window barely illuminated his face, but she could make out the mess of his hair and the way his eyes, barely open, squinted in her direction.

"seriously," he continued, rubbing his hand over his face before letting it drop lazily on his bare chest, his voice thick with sleep. "why are you moving so much?"

she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, biting her lip. "i can't sleep," she admitted quietly. 

it was a stupid response, one that obviously didn’t explain why she was writhing like a fish out of water, but it was the truth. she just couldn’t sleep.

he blinked at her, clearly processing her words through his sleepy haze. 

then, to her surprise, he shifted closer to her. his arm reached out, wrapping lazily around her waist, over the thin, black camisole she wore, as he tugged her towards him, pulling her into the familiar space against his chest.

"then just stop moving," he murmured, his voice muffled by her hair as his lips brushed against the top of her head. 

he wasn’t fully awake, that was clear. 

this was seungmin in his most unfiltered state, without the usual layers of sarcasm or that teasing grin he wore during the day. 

this was him in a space where he let her in more than either of them were willing to admit out loud.

his body was warm, radiating heat in a way that made her immediately feel guilty for disturbing him. his fingers, though a little clumsy with sleep, rubbed slow, lazy circles against her back.

the motion was surprisingly soothing. she let out a long breath, slowly sinking into him as her muscles began to relax.

"you’re restless," he murmured after a few seconds, his hand still moving against her back in that gentle way, keeping her anchored against him. his lips brushed the top of her head again, a ghost of a kiss that she wasn’t sure he even knew he gave. 

"always overthinking."

she felt her chest tighten at his words. he knew her too well. and maybe that was why it was so terrifying—the way he could see through her, even in his half-asleep state. 

but at the same time, it was why she kept coming back, why she never left his bed after nights like these. he knew her, and despite that, he stayed.

"i’m not overthinking," she mumbled, but the words lacked conviction. he let out a small scoff that vibrated against her forehead, assuring her that he was definitely conscious yet sleepy. cute. 

"sure," he muttered, but his tone was softer now, less teasing, more understanding. his hand slid from her back to beneath her the fabric that hugged her waist, fingers tracing mindless patterns across her skin.

"just… try to sleep."

"that’s exactly what i’ve been doing for the past—"

"shush."

at his lazy voice and his hand slowly prompting her figure, she nestled deeper into him, her body naturally curling against his, her cheek resting against his collarbone. 

he smelled like the faint traces of his vanilla scented cologne mixed with warmth—seungmin’s warmth, something uniquely his that made her eyelids feel heavier.

"close your eyes, and don’t focus on anything other than sleeping."

"i’ll sleep if you stop talking,"

he let out a quiet, annoyed breath, his grip on her waist tightening just a fraction, pulling her closer to him. 

"you’ll sleep," he replied simply, his voice now barely above a whisper.

his body was comfortable, solid against hers, and his steady breathing began to lull her in ways her own mind couldn’t. 

the itch to move, to toss and turn, slowly began to fade as his fingers danced across her clothed waist, occasionally slipping under the hem of the same camisole once again to skim her skin.

she wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, caught in a limbo between wakefulness and sleep, with his heartbeat beneath her ear acting as her lullaby. 

but eventually, the weight of the day began to catch up with her.

just as she was on the cusp of sleep, she felt his lips brush against her forehead, barely there, like a secret.

"sleep well," he whispered, so soft that she almost missed it.

"night, seung.." she whispered back, letting herself finally fall into sleep, comforted by the fact that, for now, things were exactly how they were supposed to be.

no nonchalance. no heavy talks.

just the quiet, unspoken connection that somehow made it all make sense.

next morning. 

the first thing she noticed was the cold.

it wasn’t the kind of cold that came from a draughty window or a forgotten blanket. 

not really. 

no, this was the absence of warmth—the absence of him. 

her body, once cocooned in his embrace, now lay exposed to the chill of the early morning air. 

she blinked her eyes open slowly, the sunlight beginning to creep through the half open curtains, painting the room in soft shades of orange and gold.

but his warmth? gone. just like always.

with a heavy sigh, she turned her head toward the empty space beside her, the sheets already cooling where his body had been only a few hours before. 

the faintest outline of his presence was still visible—a wrinkle in the bedding, the faintest impression of his form in the pillow. 

but seungmin? he was long gone.

it had become a routine by now, one she was all too familiar with. no matter how late the night before — no matter how close their bodies were tangled up in each other, or how intimate the way he held her — he always left before she woke. 

sometimes, she’d wake in the middle of the night, find him still there, his arms snug around her waist, his breath soft against her hair. but by morning? always gone.

she stretched out a hand, her fingers brushing against the cold pillow where his head had been, and a familiar pang of emptiness settled in her chest. 

it wasn’t like she expected anything different. this was their agreement, after all — being friends with benefits, emphasis on the “friends” part. 

no strings attached. no feelings to complicate things.

just two music majors, as close as dorm-mates, fulfilling their hollow desires. 

or at least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.

with a groan, the girl pulled herself up into a sitting position, running a hand through her messy hair as she stared at the empty side of the bed for a moment longer. 

the apartment was quiet, the early morning stillness only punctuated by the faint sound of birds chirping outside the window. if she strained her ears, she could probably hear him in the kitchen, going about his morning routine like nothing had happened. 

like they hadn’t spent half the night wrapped up in each other’s arms, skin pressed to skin, whispered breaths filling the silence between them.

pushing the thought aside, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, the cool floor beneath her feet sending a brief shiver up her spine. 

she grabbed her robe from the back of the door and wrapped it around herself, over her camisole, tying the belt with a quick knot before stepping out of her bedroom.

as expected, he was already in the kitchen.

the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the small apartment, mingling with the sound of soft clinking dishes. he stood at the stove, back turned to her as he focused on whatever breakfast he was making. 

his hair was still slightly tousled, sticking up in a few places from sleep, but otherwise, he looked like his usual self — calm, collected, completely unfazed by the night before.

yet, adorable. enough for her to fold over. 

she lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him. he was wearing a simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his usual morning attire, and he moved around the kitchen with an easy grace, like he belonged there. 

like this was just another normal day.

because to him, it was.

or, at least that’s what she assumed. 

she sighed, pushing the door of his room open a little wider as she stepped out of it, walking to the kitchen. 

"morning," she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.

seungmin glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression unreadable as always, yet he gave her a tiny smile, which she knew was genuine. 

"morning, insomniac." he replied, as if he hadn’t left the bed they shared, just an hour ago.

she made her way to the counter, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee from the pot he had brewed, a small smile tugging her lips at his reply. 

she leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers wrapped around the warm mug of coffee. she took a small sip, letting the heat spread through her as she watched the guy move around the kitchen with his usual quiet efficiency. 

but as she took another sip of her coffee, she couldn’t help but feel the growing weight of those unspoken feelings, the ones that clung to her chest like a secret she didn’t want to acknowledge.

she glanced at him again, the way his hair was still a little messy, the way he absentmindedly hummed under his breath as he cooked. her chest fluttered, just a bit, at the sight.

“slept well, did you?” 

his voice broke through her thoughts, casual as ever, but there was a softness to it – obviously since he already knew the answer, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

she shrugged, setting her mug down on the counter with a soft clink. “surprisingly,”

he didn’t respond right away. he flipped the eggs with practised ease before turning off the stove, and when he turned around to face her, there was something unreadable in his eyes. his usual teasing smirk was absent, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful.

she was sitting on the chair, fingers idly tracing the hem of the mug, gaze right on it but mind elsewhere.

for a moment, they just stood there, the silence between them heavy with all the things they never said. 

the guy’s heart did that stupid thing again where it skipped a beat whenever she seemed like that – he could see straight through her.

her baby hair framing her face, the sunlight bouncing off of the curves of her head. pretty, black, eyes concentrated on the green mug, carrying the same depth they always did, and he would oh so fondly dive into them.

“coffee too strong?” he asked, breaking the silence as he moved to pour himself a cup.

she let out a small breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “it’s fine, just kinda tired,” she chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly exposed under his gaze. 

“how.. about you? sleep well?”

he shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “slept fine until someone decided to practise gymnastics at 3 am.”

his words were teasing, but his voice was gentle, and for some reason, that made her heart skip a beat again. 

she awkwardly smiled, scratching her arm, a habit she grew familiar with, and he knew it quite well.

“i’m sorry, i was– warm, okay?”

he chuckled, “warm, and sleep-deprived but lost in thought? yeah, i know,” he replied softly, his eyes lingering on her for a beat longer than necessary before he looked away, focusing on his coffee instead.

and that was the problem, wasn’t it? he always knew. even when she didn’t say anything, even when she tried to brush it off, he always knew.

she hated that about him. and she loved it too.

“thanks.” she suddenly murmured, “i mean, for uh, h-helping me sleep. last night.”

he smiled, this time, softer than ever. “it’s nothing. at least you had a good sleep after.. i don't know, weeks?” 

“it wasn’t that long!”

he shot her a look that she knew too well.

“okay maybe it was. but that doesn’t matter for now,”

the corners of his lips curled up at her indignant reply, but he didn’t press further, simply shaking his head as he took another sip of his coffee. 

his eyes flicked back to her, soft and observing, and for a moment, he let himself get lost in the simplicity of the scene – the quiet morning, the soft golden light filtering through the windows, and her, sitting at the counter, her sleepy, tousled appearance making her look unfairly adorable.

for a while, they just stayed like that, bantering and sipping their coffee, the easy silence between them filling the room. 

it wasn’t awkward. it was never awkward with him. 

that was part of the reason she kept coming back to this – whatever this was. it was easy. comfortable. 

but lately, that comfort had started to come with a twist – a knot of feelings tangled somewhere deep in her chest that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with.

his eyes were still on her, his teasing grin fading into something more thoughtful as the quiet stretched between them.

“you’re doing that.. thing again,” he said suddenly, voice low.

she blinked, tilting her head. “what thing?”

“the thinking thing. the kind that keeps you up all night.”

she felt her cheeks flush slightly and quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her coffee instead. “i’m not—”

“you are,” he cut in, his voice soft but firm. he set his mug down on the counter and took a few steps closer, stopping just a foot away from her. 

“you get this look when you’re overthinking. your eyebrows scrunch up, and you kind of space out, like you’re solving the world’s most complicated puzzle.”

her lips parted slightly, caught off guard by how easily he read her. “so you stare, hm?” she grinned, trying to lift away the tension.

she didn’t know what to say, so she just stared down at her coffee, feeling a little too exposed under his knowing gaze.

“it’s kinda hard not to.” he replied a minute later, the same expression on his face.

“well, i’m not always thinking about something.. deep.” she mumbled, but the protest was weak, and she knew it. “it’s just about uni, and other stuff, nothing to worry about.” she shrugged.

seungmin just chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made her chest flutter. “sure,” he teased lightly, but then his voice softened. “look, if something’s bothering you—”

“nothing’s bothering me,” she interrupted quickly, her gaze flicking back to him, trying to muster a convincing smile. “i’m fine.”

seungmin raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “you know, for someone who’s known me this long, you’re terrible at lying.”

she let out an exaggerated groan, sinking further into her chair as she covered her face with her hands. “you’re so annoying,” she muttered, but there was no real heat behind her words.

“i try my best,” he quipped, the smirk back in full force. but then his expression softened again, and after a beat, he reached out, his hand ruffling her hair gently. “but seriously, y/n. if you need to talk, i’m here.”

she peeked out from between her fingers, surprised by the sudden contact. his hand was warm, his touch soft and uncharacteristically gentle. she wasn’t used to this side of him—the one that was careful with her, the one that wasn’t constantly teasing or sarcastic. it made her chest tighten in a way that was both terrifying and comforting.

“i know,” she whispered, her voice small.

he gave a small nod and pulled his hand back, leaning against the counter again like nothing had happened. “good.”

the room felt warmer now, despite the cool morning air seeping through the windows. her heart was beating a little faster, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of his touch or the way his gaze lingered on her for just a second too long.

she cleared her throat, desperate to break the tension that was creeping in. “so,” she said, trying to sound casual. “what’s for breakfast?”

almost 5 minutes later.

“you know,” she spoke, her voice casual now. “you’re really good at this.” she took a bite of the toasted bread, looking at him.

he glanced at her over his shoulder, flipping the last omelette, eyebrow raised. “good at what? making breakfast?”

“what? no,” she said, shaking her head with her eyes judging him. “why do you think i don’t let you make lunch or dinner? i don’t want to be fined because someone blew up the oven.”

“hey, i'm not that bad,” he glanced her way, defending himself. “i’m literally making breakfast right now.”

“you’ve cooked the same eggs or burnt pancakes for breakfast for almost 4 weeks in a row, seungmin.” she rolled her eyes, speaking again. “but, what i meant was.. you’re good at comforting me.”

for a second, the air between them shifted, the teasing banter falling away as her words hung in the space between them. he turned fully to face her now, his expression softening as he met her gaze.

“well,” he said slowly, his voice soft, “you make it pretty easy.”

her heart did that stupid fluttering thing again, and she quickly averted her gaze, suddenly feeling shy under his intense stare. “you’re such a sap,” she muttered, though her voice lacked the usual bite.

he chuckled, his smile reaching his eyes as he turned back to the food, finishing plating the eggs and toast for himself. “maybe,” he admitted, sliding on the chair beside her. “but only for you.”

she blinked, silently, as her heart skipped a beat at his words. she stared at him, but he didn’t seem fazed by what he’d just said, casually sitting down across from her and taking a bite of his toast like he hadn’t just made her entire world tilt on its axis.

oh, but little did she know, he was as surprised as her at those words leaving his mouth. the fluttering feeling inside his heart, the way she was looking at him, when he tried so hard to act nonchalant.

she picked up her fork, her hands suddenly feeling clumsy as she poked at her food.

[zzprompto]

☆ the shared bath

geto suguru x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: two dudes, [name] and suguru, share a totally 100% platonic bath after [name] notices something off about suguru. (meant to be viewed as romantic. happens before the things suguru does, au where everything turns out to be okay?)

the lowercase is intentional !

- brief mentions of nudity (because it's a bath) but no nsfw.

it was the little things [name] seemed to notice first. the way suguru started talking less, how he started wearing his hair up instead of down and how he started to grow bags under his eyes. [name] started to worry, but who wouldn't? sure, [name] wasn't the closest to suguru, that title was reserved for gojo satoru and gojo satoru only, but he was still quite close with the ravenette.

[name] couldn't help but worry. whenever he saw suguru around school grounds, he could feel his heart ache inside his chest and his stomach turn. the poor boy hoped his friend was alright, but that really didn't seem like the case. it was almost as if there was something bugging suguru, but he couldn't tell anyone. maybe he was too afraid? too standoffish to ask for help? whatever it was, [name] was determined to help his friend.

[name] spotted suguru alone on campus, so he walked up to him. it was weird to see suguru alone and without satoru, the two were independent. they were always together, but that didn't seem like the case anymore. it was probably the thing that was bugging suguru caused him to drift apart from satoru is what [name] thought. but, he didn't know the truth.

[name] walked over to suguru and stopped infront of him. "hey.. are you good?" he asked in a soft voice, trying not to startle the ravenette. suguru just looked at [name] and sighed. "i'm fine." is all he replied with in a bored, monotone voice. it seemed clear that suguru didn't want to talk about his feelings, but [name] was still worried. he wanted to find out what was truly wrong.

of course, [name] didn't want to be so persistant that he didn't get an answer from suguru at all, so he had to be creative. the first thing that came into his mind was.. a bath. just him and suguru sharing a bath whilst talking about their feelings. that doesn't sound gay at all..

"do you want to take a bath with me? we can catch up whilst soaking in some bubbles and what not." [name] suggests, a smile on his face as he spoke. suguru thought his ears were deceiving him for a second. did he really hear what he thought he heard? or was his mind playing tricks on him due to his sleep deprivation?

suguru's face contorted and twisted into that of confusion. he looked at [name] with that exact expression on his face. "what? a bath? that's a bit odd, don't you think?" suguru sighed, shaking his head at [name]'s suggestion. although out loud he said the idea was odd, on the inside his heart was racing. he never would've thought [name] would be the type of person to suggest a bath, an intimate one at that where they'd be discussing their feelings together. it was all a shock, but suguru found it quite romantic.

[name] immediately realises how weird taking a bath with another guy sounds, especially since both him and suguru are teenagers, on the verge of adulthood. "oh! right.. right.. uhm.. my bad.." [name] chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head and looking away from suguru. oh how stupid he was for thinking such a thing.

"..i'm not opposed to the idea, however." suguru clears his throat, also looking away from [name]'s direction. "i guess it would be nice to take a warm bath and catch up." suguru continues, his voice quiet and low as he's still flustered by the suggestion. maybe he was reading into it too much? but it was too late now, he already accepted the offer.

[name] perks up and he looks at suguru again, his previous smile creeping back up on his face. quickly, [name] takes suguru's arm and he starts dragging the poor boy to the baths. he already heard suguru say he 'wasn't opposed to the idea', so there's nothing stopping [name] now. he felt some sort of excitement rush over him, mixed with another feeling that he didn't know how to name. it was like he wanted to see suguru, topless, in the bath. but that was normal, right? it's normal to want to see another guy's body, right? it's totally not gay..

after a few long moments of [name] dragging suguru by the arm, the two boys finally reached the baths. [name] started to run the water, turning a mixture of the hot and cold taps before it was the optimum temperature. he then took one of the shower gels that was laying on the side of the bath, before squeezing a bit in the bath, waiting for bubbles to start forming. the bath wasn't big, but it wasn't too small. [name] hoped it would fit him and suguru, and possibly leave some space for the two of them. yet, he wouldn't mind being right besides suguru in the bath.

[name] looked at suguru with a smile. "well, the bath's running now. i guess it's time to get in." he hummed before turning around and taking his uniform off. as much as [name] wanted to watch suguru get changed, for some odd reason that didn't click in his mind yet, he gave suguru a little privacy and didn't watch. [name] got dressed pretty fast himself and he got into the water, waiting for suguru to get in too.

suguru took a little longer getting undressed. he was pretty nervous and flustered about the whole ordeal. suguru was about to be in a bath with someone he likes, close to this guy when they're both naked and the other guy doesn't see a problem with it! it didn't help that [name] was going to ask questions about what's wrong with suguru, it just made the whole moment feel like it was going to be more intimate than intended.

soon enough, [name] could hear suguru enter the water beside him. [name] turned off the taps and he looked to suguru with a smile. "the water's nice, don't you think?" he asked, trying to make some sort of small talk despite this awkwardly-romantic situation. this was meant to be a moment that couples shared. so why was it that two boys, who have not confronted their feelings about eachother yet, are sharing such a moment?

suguru just hums and nods along to [name]'s question, looking down at the water to try and avoid his gaze. it was all too much for his heart, there was only so much it could handle. "yeah.. the water's nice. thanks for.. asking me to come here with you? i don't know what else to say.." suguru muttered, definitely not knowing what else to say.

"i was worried about you, y'know? i mean, i still am, but i'm worried about you. i'm always worried about you, even when there's nothing to worry about." [name] explains, his brain going fuzzy after repeating the word 'worry' too many times. he's still gazing over at suguru with a small smile on his face. "i care about you a lot, even if it doesn't look like that. i just want you to know that." [name] admits, and it's not making suguru's heart feel any better. suguru feels as if his heart is going to leap out of his chest and drown in the bath.

suguru thinks for a moment, trying to recollect his thoughts and words before he can say anything in response to [name]. "hm.. thank you, [name]. i appreciate how much you care and worry, it means.. a lot." suguru whispers, making the shared bath more and more intimate by the second. "i've just been thinking a lot lately about everything that's happened, i forgot to stop and see that people around me care. everything with amanai, haibara.. it's all piled up. i feel like i have to carry this weight on my shoulders, like i'm alone.. i want to do something about it.." suguru admitted before pausing. he didn't want to tell the truth about what he thought of doing, it would just lead [name] to hate him.

then, suguru heard the water sloshing and splashing about until he felt something wrap around him. it was [name], of course. [name] pulled suguru into a hug, holding him as close as he could. "i'm sorry, suguru. i'm sorry that you feel that way.." [name] whispers to suguru. "you're not alone.. you have us. gojo, shoko.. and me." [name] sighed, resting against suguru's shoulder as he continued to hug the other boy. "we're always here so you can talk to us. i'm here for you, always." [name] whispers and it plays in suguru's mind over and over again. suguru just wanted to kiss [name] so badly. [name]'s words were so intimate, yet [name] didn't even know the effect he had on suguru.

suguru hums and he rests his chin on the top of [name]'s head, reciprocating the hug. "thank you again, [name]. your words reassure me. i needed that, a lot." suguru sighed, continuing to hold [name] in his arms as [name] held suguru in his own.

"i really want to kiss you.." suguru confessed in a whisper, his cheeks immediately going a light pink instead of pale as he spoke. [name]'s eyes opened wide and he backed away from the hug slightly, some water tipping out of the bath tub. "what? what did you say? you want to kiss me?" [name] was taken aback, but he should've seen it coming. he was the one who suggsted such a romantic and intimate thing such as a bath in the first place.

yet, [name] didn't back away. he wasn't afraid of his feelings anymore. he leaned in closer to suguru to the point where their noses were almost touching. "do it, then. kiss me." [name] whispered back, hoping suguru would kiss him.

...and kiss him he did.

suguru leaned in, just as [name] did, and he finally made their lips meet. it felt like heaven. both boys were just melting at eachother's touch. all the unspoken feelings coming to light as they stayed in the bath. it was perfect, better than anything the boys could've imagined.

once the two of them pulled away, suguru was smiling so much that his cheeks start to hurt. "that was.. great." he whispered before pulling [name] in for another kiss, which [name] gladly accepted.

the two boys kept kissing in the bath, smiling and laughing. all in all, they were just enjoying eachother's company for what felt like the first time in years. it was great.

"do you want to go and grab food with me someday?" geto asked, grinning slightly as he looked at [name]. "as in a date?" [name] tilted his head to which suguru nodded in response. "sure, sounds good to me." [name] hummed, holding suguru close in a hug again.

as the weeks, months and years went past, shoko and gojo never stopped teasing the two. suguru and [name] could never catch a break. but, it all happened because of the shared bath. the bath [name] and suguru were so glad they shared...

☆ author's note: i feel like writing a highschool au gojo..

☆ request ▪︎ masterlist

[artyandink]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐱𝐲𝐳 2

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, daydreaming, talk of rape, sa, abortion, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: The Man by Taylor Swift

new country

“Madam President!”

“Over here!”

“What are your plans to reform America?”

Paparazzi kept on yelling those questions even though you were perfectly capable of stating every one of your new legislations and ideas one by one. Lucky this was a closed conference, lowering the chance of an assassination, and Dean’s eyes were scanning the crowd anyway for any reporter who could suddenly yank out a .38.

You raised your hand, clearing your throat. “It’s only been about a week since I’ve been elected, but I can, with confidence, share with you my plans to reform legislations and laws in the States. As of tomorrow, after a majority vote, abortion has now become legal in all fifty states.”

The statement became an outcry, reporters and journalists yelling questions as to why, so you had to hold up your hand again with a strong urge to roll your eyes in disdain. Seriously, why can’t these guys ever shut up? “It’s a controversial decision.” You agreed, looking intently at the members of the audience. “I’m wholeheartedly aware, but we have to think of the people who would suffer. Victims of rape who end up pregnant would have to keep their child, and depending on the case, the mother could end up with severe post-natal depression which could affect both the child and their mother, which would do more harm than aborting the child. If a mother’s baby won’t make it to birth, she can’t do a thing to stop the baby’s suffering from happening in the first place. Abortion is a right that should be possessed by every woman in the country, and in addition to this, a psych evaluation will be conducted by licensed professionals to determine any external pressures or lingering doubts.”

You had felt your air running out, so you took a sip of your water before continuing on with your long list of tasks and responsibilities for the presidential serve. “I want to improve relations with our allies in NATO, and there will be foundations in order to support anyone in the States who is in need of education. And, by the end of my service as this country’s president, I want to have America make the switch to renewable sources of energy and be sure that the production of energy in factories is the minority.”

“Any questions?” Becky asked, waving her pen around a little as she looked inquisitively around the room, this fucking room with pretentious reporters who ask stupid questions.

One reporter raised their hand, so Becky nodded and pointed with her pen. “How does it feel, being the youngest elected and the first female to become president? You’re making history.”

“Well, as John F Kennedy said: it’s time for a new generation of leadership.” You smiled— that question wasn’t half bad, really. You knew you were breaking history’s records and taking America in a new direction, but it was for the best. “It’s an odd feeling, as I’ve been raised in a country with men as our presidents, but I’d say I owe a lot of my success to my family, my friends and my fellow candidate, Amara Shurley. She gave me a run for my money, and she’s an incredible woman that only inspired me to do better.”

Another reporter with his hand up. “A lot of women across the States see you as a symbol for feminism. What is your response to this statement?”

Well, that one wasn’t unheard of, you’d give it that. “I’m whoever the people want me to be.” You gave a light shrug, you didn’t really think of that question. You just said what felt natural. “If they need a feminist symbol, they can look to me. If people need reassurance and safety, they can look to me. The only thing I won’t be able to stand is that the good citizens of America can’t put their trust in me because of a contingency or the other.”

You glanced at Becky, who nodded toward the man. He was middle-aged, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a self-assured smirk that screamed, I’ve got something to prove. The logo of his network—one notoriously critical of your policies—was emblazoned on his press badge.

“Madam President,” he began, his voice carrying an edge of condescension that set your teeth on edge. “You’ve outlined ambitious plans for reform, and your stance on women’s rights is certainly bold. But there’s one decision you’ve made that has raised quite a few eyebrows.” He leaned forward slightly, as if positioning himself for a dramatic reveal. “What do you say to critics who question the wisdom of hiring an ex-hitman—someone with a documented history of violence—to serve as your personal bodyguard? Isn’t it hypocritical to preach about progress and morality while employing someone like him?”

For a moment, silence blanketed the room. The question hung in the air, sharp and cutting, as the reporters collectively held their breath, waiting to see how you would respond. You felt the prickle of heat rise along your neck and shoulders, not from embarrassment, but from sheer frustration.

You glanced briefly at Dean, whose expression was impassive, though his jaw clenched ever so slightly. He stood still, his hands resting lightly at his sides, but you could tell the question had landed like a punch to the gut.

You took a deep breath, the crisp scent of polished wood and faint cologne grounding you. Then, with a calm but unmistakable authority, you leaned forward into the microphone.

“That’s an excellent question,” you began, though your tone suggested otherwise. Your eyes locked on the reporter, and your gaze was steady, unflinching. “And it gives me an opportunity to address an issue that’s long overdue for clarification. You see, I don’t make decisions lightly—especially not decisions that concern my safety and the safety of this nation. When I selected Mr. Winchester as my personal bodyguard, I did so with full knowledge of his history.”

The reporter opened his mouth, but you held up a hand, silencing him without a word.

“Let me finish,” you said, your voice firm. “Yes, Dean Winchester has a past. But let’s talk about what that past really means. This is a man who, for better or worse, was shaped by circumstances beyond his control. He didn’t choose a life of crime; he was born into it. And yet, despite everything, he possesses a set of skills and a depth of experience that make him uniquely qualified to protect me—and, by extension, the American people.”

You straightened, your tone sharpening. “Critics like you are quick to point fingers and make judgments from a position of privilege, ignoring the fact that people can change. Redemption isn’t just a talking point for me; it’s a belief I hold deeply. If we can’t offer second chances to those who’ve earned them, then what kind of country are we building?”

The murmurs in the room grew louder, but you pressed on, your words cutting through the noise.

“Dean Winchester has spent the last year proving himself. He passed the most rigorous background checks, psychological evaluations, and combat training our government has to offer. He’s saved lives, prevented threats, and put himself in harm’s way to protect others. And for that, I trust him with my life. So if you want to question my decision, you’re not just questioning his character—you’re questioning mine.”

The room fell silent again, your words hitting their mark. You could feel the eyes of every reporter on you, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Becky nodding subtly, her expression one of quiet approval.

You leaned into the microphone one last time, your gaze boring into the reporter who had asked the question. “And let me be perfectly clear: I don’t answer to cynics like you. I answer to the American people. So, if you’d like to discuss this further, I suggest you start by addressing me with the respect this office demands.”

The tension in the room was electric, the kind of silence that felt loud in its weight. The reporter, clearly taken aback, sank slightly in his seat, his smirk replaced by a look of unease.

You straightened your posture, smoothing the front of your blazer as you surveyed the room. “Next question?”

A younger journalist, her notebook clutched tightly, hesitantly raised her hand. Becky nodded to her, and she stood, her voice steady but cautious. “Madam President, thank you for your response. Building on that, how do you see your administration addressing broader issues of criminal justice reform and rehabilitation?”

Finally, a question with substance. You allowed yourself a small, appreciative smile. “That’s an excellent question,” you said. “One of my top priorities is ensuring that our criminal justice system focuses not only on punishment but on rehabilitation. Too many people are trapped in a cycle of incarceration because they’re not given the tools or opportunities to reintegrate into society. We need to invest in education, job training, and mental health support—both inside and outside of our prison system.”

You glanced briefly at Dean again, finding a flicker of reassurance in his steady presence. “Because if we’re serious about building a better future, we need to recognize that people are more than their worst mistakes.”

The press conference continued, the reporters slowly shifting their focus back to policy questions and legislative plans. But the earlier exchange lingered in the back of your mind, a reminder of the battles yet to come.

As the session wrapped up and you stepped away from the podium, Dean was there, a quiet shadow at your side.

“Hell of a response,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced at him, catching the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips. “They don’t pay me to hold back,” you replied, your tone wry.

“No,” he said, his eyes scanning the room one last time as he followed you toward the exit. “They pay you to lead.”

And as you stepped into the corridor, leaving the chaos of the press behind, you couldn’t help but feel that, for once, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

“No offence here, ma’am, but I think your fans are crazy.” Dean chuckled as he saw a post on Instagram that was now trending because he apparently was giving daddy.

Whatever the fuck ‘giving’ meant. He was a giver in the bedroom, if that’s what it was referring to. Below it were hundreds of comments, many of which seemed less than presidential.

You glanced at the phone, then back at him, trying—and failing—not to laugh. “Welcome to my world,” you replied dryly, setting your pen down and leaning back in your chair. “You’d be amazed how quickly people can spiral over a photo.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he scrolled through the comments. “‘He could protect me any day’,” he read aloud, his tone mocking but amused. “‘Please, sir, ruin my life.’” He glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. “Do they know I’m literally hired to ruin other people’s lives if necessary?”

You shrugged, biting back a grin. “They probably think that’s part of the appeal.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t even know what half of this means,” he said, squinting at the screen. “Apparently I’m ‘giving daddy’? Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.” He looked genuinely puzzled, and it only made the situation funnier.

You laughed outright at that, the sound warm and unrestrained. “Dean, it just means they think you’re hot.”

His smirk widened as he pocketed his phone. “So, basically, I’m a meme now.”

“Pretty much.”

Dean leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing his arms as he gave you an exaggeratedly thoughtful look. “You know,” he began, his tone teasing, “I’m starting to think you hired me purely for my looks.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile didn’t falter. “Oh, please.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Be honest with me, ma’am. You saw the jawline, the broad shoulders, the smoldering intensity—”

“Smoldering intensity?” you interrupted, arching an eyebrow.

He gestured toward his face, grinning. “And you thought, This guy? Perfect for standing around looking menacing and driving Instagram wild.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, shaking your head as you looked at him. “Dean, I hired you because you’re qualified. Your record speaks for itself.”

He tilted his head, feigning skepticism. “But you did notice the jawline, right?”

“Stop fishing for compliments,” you said, swatting at his arm playfully.

He chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, ma’am. I’ve been around long enough to know when someone appreciates the package.”

You sighed, folding your arms and giving him an exaggeratedly serious look. “Fine. You’re attractive, Dean. Happy?”

He grinned, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Very.”

“But,” you continued, holding up a finger, “that’s not why I hired you. I needed the best, and you are. Everything else is just a… bonus.”

He laughed, the sound rich and genuine, and for a moment, the usual weight of your responsibilities felt lighter.

The playful banter between you continued, a rare moment of levity in the otherwise intense environment of the Oval Office. Dean settled into the chair opposite your desk, leaning back with an easy confidence that only added to his inexplicable charm.

“So,” he said, his tone conspiratorial, “how does it feel knowing your bodyguard is officially the internet’s new crush?”

You smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Honestly? It’s hilarious.”

“Hilarious?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “You’re all stoic and intimidating most of the time, and now half the country wants to climb you like a tree.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Well, if you ever get tired of being President, you could have a solid career in stand-up comedy.”

You grinned, enjoying the back-and-forth more than you cared to admit. “I’ll keep that in mind.” A short pause, but it felt good, light. He didn’t seem like the typical bodyguard, you could actually have conversations with him.

“Well,” he said, standing and stretching slightly, “if you ever want to go viral again, just let me know. I’m apparently great at it.”

“Noted,” you replied with a grin.

As he made his way to the door, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk firmly in place. “And for the record, ma’am? If I ever need a second career, I’ll just put ‘hot bodyguard’ on my résumé.”

You laughed, shaking your head as he disappeared into the hallway. “Good luck with that, Winchester.”

And as you returned to your work, a small smile lingered on your lips. Dean might drive you crazy sometimes, but moments like this made it impossible not to appreciate the man behind the reputation.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the Oval Office, filtering through the tall windows and highlighting the meticulously maintained room. Papers were spread across your desk in organized chaos, and the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air. You’d been working for hours, signing documents, reviewing proposals, and making notes in neat, precise handwriting. The quiet hum of the office was almost soothing—your assistant, Becky, had left to run errands, leaving you to your thoughts and tasks.

You leaned back in your chair for a moment, massaging the tension from your neck. The weight of the presidency wasn’t something you’d underestimated, but there were days, like today, when it pressed harder than usual. Still, the sense of purpose it gave you was unshakable. Every signature on these documents was a step toward the vision you had for the country.

As you reached for your coffee mug, the door opened quietly, and Dean stepped inside. You looked up, unsurprised—his ability to move without a sound still startled most people, but you’d grown accustomed to it.

He was out of his suit jacket now, the dark gray fabric slung over one arm. His white dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, revealed strong forearms, and the faint shadow of a day’s stubble added to his rugged appearance. Dean wasn’t one for idle conversation or intrusions without purpose, so you set your pen down and gave him your full attention.

“Madam President,” he began, his voice as steady and low as ever. But there was something in his tone—an edge of hesitancy, maybe even guilt—that caught your attention.

“Yes, Dean?” you prompted, tilting your head slightly.

He stepped closer, standing just in front of the desk, his hands resting on the back of one of the chairs. He seemed to consider his words carefully before speaking.

“I wanted to say… you didn’t have to do that. Back at the press conference.” His green eyes met yours, earnest and unguarded in a way they rarely were. “Defending me like that, in front of all those reporters. It wasn’t necessary.”

You blinked, surprised by his sincerity. You leaned forward slightly, resting your forearms on the desk. “Dean,” you said gently, “of course it was necessary.”

He shook his head, the movement quick and almost dismissive. “No, it wasn’t. My past is my burden to carry, not yours. You’re already under enough scrutiny as it is. I don’t need to add to it.”

The vulnerability in his words tugged at something deep inside you. Dean Winchester was a fortress of a man—strong, guarded, and unflinching in his role as your protector. But in this moment, he was letting you see the cracks in that armor, the part of him that carried the weight of his past like a scar that wouldn’t heal.

You stood, pushing your chair back slightly as you rounded the desk. His eyes followed you as you came to stand beside him, your expression calm but firm.

“Dean,” you began, your voice softer now, “I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I chose you for this job. I knew your history. I knew how people might react. And I didn’t care.”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as though struggling to accept your words.

“Listen to me,” you continued, stepping closer. “I’m not just your employer. I’m your ally. And when someone questions my decisions —when they question you— it’s my responsibility to set the record straight.”

He let out a quiet breath, almost a sigh, and looked back at you. There was something in his expression that made your chest ache— a mix of gratitude and disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite fathom why you’d stand up for him so fiercely.

“You’ve earned your place here, Dean,” you said, your tone unwavering. “And if anyone has a problem with that, they can take it up with me.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable; it was contemplative, a shared moment of understanding. Dean nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

“You’re stubborn,” he said after a moment, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles.

You chuckled softly. “I’ve been called worse.”

His gaze lingered on you, and for a brief moment, you felt the intensity of it like a tangible weight. But then he straightened, rolling his shoulders back as if shrugging off the last remnants of doubt.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute. “For believing in me.”

“Always,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a small, sincere smile.

The atmosphere shifted, the earlier tension giving way to a more relaxed ease. Dean glanced at the paperwork strewn across your desk, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’ve been at this all day,” he said, nodding toward the stack of documents. “When’s the last time you took a break?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll take a break when I’m done.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your answer. “That’s not how that works, Madam President. You can’t run a country if you run yourself into the ground.”

You sighed, knowing he had a point but unwilling to admit it outright. “I’ll take a break soon,” you conceded.

“Good,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “Because if you don’t, I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound light and genuine. “I’d like to see you try.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment, you saw the faintest hint of mischief in his eyes. “Don’t tempt me,” he said, and there was a warmth in his voice that made your chest feel lighter.

As he turned to leave, you called after him. “Dean.” He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “For what it’s worth,” you said, your smile soft but full of meaning, “I think you’re doing a damn good job.”

He didn’t respond right away, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. Finally, he gave a small nod, his lips curving into a quiet, appreciative smile.

“Thanks, boss,” he said, and with that, he left the room, his footsteps fading into the hallway beyond.

You returned to your desk, the papers waiting patiently for your attention. But for the first time that day, the weight of the work didn’t feel quite so heavy. You’d stood up for someone who deserved it, and in doing so, you’d strengthened a bond that went far beyond the professional.

As you picked up your pen, a thought crossed your mind—one that made you smile. Dean Winchester might not be perfect, but he was exactly the kind of person you wanted in your corner. And if the rest of the world couldn’t see that, well, that was their loss.

The day after the press conference, the Oval Office was already humming with its usual controlled chaos. You were deep in paperwork, focused on revising yet another draft of a new energy initiative, when your assistant, Becky, buzzed in to inform you that Bella and Steph had arrived.

You sighed fondly. Of course, they had. They’d been texting nonstop since the moment the press conference aired, full of commentary about your plans and, predictably, about Dean.

“They’re here to see you,” Becky said over the intercom, a hint of amusement in her tone.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” you replied, shaking your head with a small smile.

Bella and Steph didn’t wait long. As soon as they were cleared to approach the Oval Office, they strode down the hallway, chatting animatedly, their voices carrying just enough to alert Dean, who stood stationed just outside the office door.

He looked up from where he was scrolling through security updates on his phone, his sharp green eyes assessing the two women as they approached. His posture was relaxed but professional, and his expression shifted to one of slight curiosity as he took them in.

Bella was the first to notice him. She slowed her pace, her jaw slackening just slightly as her gaze took him in—head to toe and back up again. Steph, walking just behind her, barely contained a whistle as she caught sight of Dean standing there in his dark suit and tie, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms.

“Uh, excuse me?” Bella said, stopping directly in front of him with a hand on her hip. Her voice was playful, bordering on flirtatious. “You must be the Dean Winchester.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, tucking his phone into his pocket. “That’d be me,” he replied, his tone even but laced with caution.

Steph stepped up beside Bella, giving him a once-over with such blatant appreciation that Dean shifted slightly, his expression an amusing mix of bemusement and wariness. “Oh, wow,” Steph said, dragging out the words. “She wasn’t kidding. You’re even better-looking in person.”

Bella nodded enthusiastically. “I mean, we saw the pictures, but they didn’t do you justice. You’re—what’s the phrase?—‘giving everything.’”

Dean blinked, his lips quirking into an involuntary smirk despite himself. “Appreciate it,” he said dryly, “but I think you’re looking for the President. She’s inside.”

Bella waved a hand dismissively. “We’re her friends. She won’t mind if we take a moment to admire her excellent taste in bodyguards.”

Dean let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not exactly how she put it.”

Steph leaned in slightly, her grin downright mischievous. “So, Dean, what’s the story here? Are you single? Because if you’re not, you really need to start considering the President. You two would be perfect together.”

Dean raised both eyebrows at that, his smirk turning incredulous. “That’s… bold,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bella wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. She’s brilliant, gorgeous, and now she’s the President. And you? You’re a literal ex-hitman who looks like you walked off the cover of GQ. It’s a match made in tabloid heaven.”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he might’ve said was interrupted as you stepped out of the office, arms crossed and eyebrows raised at the scene unfolding before you.

“Really, ladies?” you said, your tone dripping with mock exasperation.

Bella and Steph whirled around, both grinning guiltily but unapologetically. “We were just getting to know your bodyguard,” Bella said, batting her lashes innocently.

“And suggesting he hook up with you,” Steph added helpfully, earning her a sharp elbow from Bella.

You pressed a hand to your forehead, sighing. “I knew letting you two anywhere near Dean was a mistake.”

“Can you blame us?” Bella asked, gesturing toward Dean like he was an exhibit at a museum. “I mean, look at him.”

Dean, to his credit, remained perfectly composed, though there was a faint pink tinge to his ears that you didn’t miss.

“I am looking at him,” you said dryly, then turned to Dean with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about them. They don’t have a filter.”

Dean gave a half-smile, his voice carrying that familiar note of humor. “It’s fine, ma’am. I’ve heard worse.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have,” you replied, shooting Bella and Steph a pointed look. “But I’d rather they not embarrass themselves—or me—any further.”

Steph raised her hands in mock surrender. “We’re just stating the obvious. And for the record, you’re welcome.”

“For what?” you asked, exasperated.

“For giving you the perfect opportunity to admit he’s hot,” Bella said, winking.

You sighed, shaking your head as you stepped aside to usher them into the office. “Dean, can you make sure no one else tries to instigate a matchmaking session while I’m in there?”

He nodded, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “Consider it done.”

As Bella and Steph passed him, they both threw him one last playful look, Steph muttering, “Call us if you ever get tired of babysitting.”

Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head as the door closed behind them.

Inside, you turned to your friends with your hands on your hips. “Seriously? You couldn’t even wait until you got inside to start embarrassing me?”

Bella flopped onto one of the chairs, grinning. “Hey, we’re just looking out for you. And honestly, if you don’t lock that man down, someone else will.”

Steph nodded, leaning back against the desk. “He’s got that whole brooding, dangerous vibe going on. And those arms?” She mimed fanning herself, grinning wickedly.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “You do realize he’s standing right outside, don’t you?”

Bella shrugged. “Maybe he’ll take it as a compliment.”

You shot them both a look, your annoyance tempered by the amusement you couldn’t quite hide. “You’re impossible.”

As the three of you settled in to talk about why they’d actually come to visit, your thoughts briefly wandered to Dean outside the door. His composure, his humor, and the way he’d handled your friends’ antics—it all reminded you why you trusted him so much.

And, fine, you’d admit it. They weren’t wrong about the jawline.

The Oval Office was unnervingly quiet, save for the scratch of your pen against paper and the occasional shuffle of documents. You had spent hours entrenched in policy revisions, draft reviews, and enough bureaucracy to numb your senses entirely. A dull ache had started to build behind your eyes, but you powered through. It wasn’t like the President of the United States could take a sick day.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a long sigh as you pushed your current stack of papers aside. The late afternoon sunlight poured through the tall windows, bathing the room in a warm golden hue. For a moment, your mind wandered, your focus slipping as you stared at the faint pattern of light on the ceiling.

Then, the door to your office creaked open.

Your attention snapped back, your heart skipping at the sight of Dean stepping inside. He was dressed sharply as always, his dark suit tailored to perfection, though his tie was slightly loosened, and his sleeves were pushed up just enough to reveal his strong forearms.

“Dean,” you said, a touch of surprise in your voice. “I thought you were on your break.”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his gaze locked with yours, and the air seemed to thicken. There was something different about him—an intensity in his expression, a flicker of something unspoken.

Without a word, he reached up and tugged at his tie, loosening it further before slipping it over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs.

Your eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t answer. He shrugged out of his suit jacket next, draping it over the back of a chair with deliberate ease. His movements were slow, calculated, and impossibly confident.

“Dean?” you repeated, your voice catching slightly.

His shirt followed. Button by button, he undid it with maddening patience, his green eyes never leaving yours. Your breath hitched as he peeled it off, revealing the broad, chiseled planes of his chest and the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin—a testament to a dangerous past.

By the time his hands went to his belt, your pulse was racing.

“What are you—” you began, but the words died in your throat as he stepped forward.

In one smooth motion, Dean swept the documents off your desk, scattering them across the floor. He leaned down, his hands bracketing you on either side as he effortlessly lifted you onto the polished wood surface.

Your breath came in short, shallow bursts as he pressed closer, his lips a hair’s breadth from yours. “You’ve been working too hard,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, his mouth crashed into yours, claiming you in a kiss so heated and consuming that it left no room for thought. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as your fingers found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands.

It was overwhelming—the warmth of his body, the taste of his kiss, the way his fingers dug into your waist with a possessive edge that sent sparks shooting through you.

And then—

“Madam President?” Becky’s voice crackled over the intercom, pulling you violently back to reality.

You blinked, your surroundings snapping into sharp focus. You were still in your chair, your desk untouched, your papers neatly stacked where you’d left them. Dean wasn’t in the room—wasn’t shirtless, wasn’t lifting you onto your desk, wasn’t kissing you like the world was ending.

Heat flooded your face as you sat up straight, your heart pounding in your chest for entirely different reasons now.

“Yes, Becky?” you managed, your voice slightly hoarse.

“You’ve got a visitor—Director Landry from the FBI. He’s here for the meeting regarding Agent Winchester’s appointment.”

Your stomach dropped, the implications of the daydream compounding the embarrassment that already burned hot in your chest. “Send him in,” you replied, clearing your throat to steady your voice.

Moments later, the door opened, and Director Landry entered, his crisp suit and severe demeanor a stark contrast to the imagined chaos of moments ago.

“Madam President,” he greeted with a nod.

“Director,” you replied, standing to shake his hand. “Please, have a seat.”

The two of you settled across from one another, and Landry wasted no time getting to the point. “I understand Agent Winchester’s appointment as your personal bodyguard was an unconventional decision.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” you replied, your tone neutral but firm.

Landry leaned forward slightly, his hands folded on his lap. “While Agent Winchester’s skill set is undeniable, I have to express my concerns. His past… affiliations and actions make him a controversial figure. Are you certain this is the image you want associated with your administration?”

You straightened in your chair, your expression hardening. “Director, I appreciate your concerns, but Dean Winchester was vetted thoroughly before I made my decision. His record speaks for itself—he’s one of the most skilled operatives we’ve ever had.”

“His record also includes a stint in ADX Florence,” Landry countered, his tone measured but pointed.

You didn’t flinch. “I’m aware. And I also know he served his time and cooperated fully with authorities during his incarceration. Dean Winchester has earned his second chance, and I’m not in the business of denying people opportunities based on their past mistakes—especially when they’ve proven themselves more than capable.”

Landry’s gaze narrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

You leaned forward, your voice steady and resolute. “Dean has already demonstrated his loyalty, his discretion, and his ability to protect me in ways no one else could. He’s not just a bodyguard, Director—he’s a deterrent. Anyone who knows his reputation would think twice before making a move.”

The director regarded you for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Very well. If you’re confident in your decision, I’ll respect it.”

“I am,” you replied firmly, meeting his gaze head-on.

As the meeting concluded and Landry left, you let out a long breath, sinking back into your chair. The tension from the conversation—and the residual heat from your earlier daydream—left you feeling drained and slightly disoriented.

You turned your chair toward the window, letting the fading sunlight warm your face as you tried to shake off the lingering embarrassment.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could almost hear Dean’s gravelly voice teasing you: You’ve been working too hard.

Dean stood outside the East Wing of the White House, bathed in the faint golden light of the late afternoon. It was one of those rare moments when the world around him seemed to pause, granting him a sliver of peace amidst the relentless schedule of his new life. The crisp November air carried a sharp bite, and Dean savored the sensation as he leaned against a marble column, his hand loosely wrapped around his ever-present phone.

The quiet was interrupted by the buzz of an incoming call. The number wasn’t saved, but Dean knew it immediately—he recognized the area code, the unmistakable pang of familiarity twisting in his chest like a rusty knife.

For a moment, he considered letting it ring out. But he knew better than to ignore a call from them.

Dean swiped his thumb across the screen and brought the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Winchester,” a deep, gravelly voice snarled on the other end of the line. The accent was unmistakable—Brooklyn through and through. “You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve.”

Dean let out a slow exhale, his gaze flicking to the horizon as he stepped further into the shadows of the colonnade. His voice was calm, measured. “What do you want, Frank?”

“What do I want?” Frank barked a harsh laugh. “How about an explanation, for starters? You think we wouldn’t see it? You strutting around on TV in a monkey suit, playing babysitter for the goddamn President of the United States?”

Dean didn’t flinch, though the venom in Frank’s tone was enough to make most men’s blood run cold. “I don’t work for you anymore,” he said simply, his voice low but firm. “I haven’t for a long time.”

“Bullshit!” Frank snapped. “You don’t just leave, Winchester. You don’t walk away from the family and decide to play hero. That ain’t how this works, and you know it.”

Dean’s jaw tightened, his knuckles white as he gripped the phone. The word “family” left a sour taste in his mouth—it was always their go-to excuse, a leash they used to drag their people back into the fold.

“I didn’t walk away,” Dean replied, his tone sharper now. “I was locked up, remember? ADX Florence. Solitary confinement. Twenty-three hours a day in a cell the size of a broom closet. You didn’t exactly come running to my rescue.”

“You think that gives you a free pass to spit on everything we built? On everyone who had your back?” Frank growled, his voice crackling with fury. “You don’t get it, do you? You didn’t just screw us, Winchester. You screwed the whole damn network. You’re a traitor.”

Dean’s pulse quickened, but he kept his voice steady. “I’m not a traitor. I’m just done. Done with the jobs, the lies, the blood on my hands. I’ve paid my dues, Frank. I’m not going back.”

“Not going back?” Frank repeated, his voice dripping with contempt. “You think you can just slap on a suit, play by their rules, and call it a clean slate? Newsflash, buddy: your past doesn’t just disappear because you want it to. The network doesn’t forget.”

The network. The tangled web of organized crime that had once defined Dean’s life. It was a world of favors and debts, alliances and betrayals, a world where loyalty was currency and betrayal was punishable by death. Dean had clawed his way out of that pit, but its shadows still clung to him, no matter how far he tried to run.

“I didn’t ask for a clean slate,” Dean said, his voice laced with quiet defiance. “I know who I am, and I know what I’ve done. But I’m not your guy anymore, Frank. I don’t take orders from you, and I sure as hell don’t owe you a damn thing.”

Frank was silent for a moment, but the static of his labored breathing was still audible. When he finally spoke, his voice was colder than ever. “You think you’re untouchable now, huh? That shiny badge of yours makes you bulletproof?”

Dean’s lips twitched into a grim smile. “I think you know better than to try me.”

There was another long pause, the weight of unspoken threats hanging heavy in the air.

“You’ve made your choice, Winchester,” Frank said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “But don’t think for a second that we’re just gonna let this slide. You’re walking a fine line, and sooner or later, you’re gonna fall.”

The call ended abruptly, the click of the disconnect echoing in Dean’s ear. He stood there for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand as the tension coiled in his chest like a spring wound too tight.

The air around him felt colder now, the shadows deeper. Dean slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, the Washington Monument rising like a silent sentinel against the darkening sky.

The ghosts of his past were never far behind, and tonight, they’d made it clear they weren’t going anywhere.

Back inside, the warm lights of the White House felt almost alien after the cold, harsh conversation. Dean made his way to the security wing, nodding to a few Secret Service agents as he passed. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of Frank’s words pressing down on him.

You don’t just leave.

Dean knew that all too well. He’d spent years trying to carve out a life for himself that wasn’t defined by the blood and chaos of the criminal underworld. But no matter how far he ran, it always found a way to pull him back in.

As he reached his quarters, Dean leaned against the doorframe, letting out a long breath. His eyes drifted to the small desk in the corner, where a few case files and a polished Glock rested side by side.

He knew he had made the right choice—choosing a path that, while complicated, gave him a chance to do something good. To protect someone who genuinely wanted to make a difference.

But as he sat down, his mind lingered on Frank’s final words.

Sooner or later, you’re gonna fall.

Dean clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with resolve.

Not if he could help it.

Frank slammed the phone onto the mahogany desk in front of him, the sharp crack echoing through the dimly lit room. The ornate office—more of a lair, really—was as ostentatious as it was oppressive, with heavy red drapes and polished wood paneling that seemed to suck the life out of the air. A crystal tumbler of bourbon sat untouched on the desk, catching the faint golden glow of the single overhead light.

His face was twisted with anger, the veins in his neck bulging as he clenched his fists and let out a string of curses.

“That ungrateful son of a bitch!” he barked, his voice reverberating through the room. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

Across from him, Lou, his most trusted advisor, stood with his hands clasped in front of him, his expression carefully neutral. Lou had been with Frank for over two decades, a steady presence in the volatile storm that was the New York mafia. He knew better than to interrupt when Frank was in one of his moods.

“He’s got a death wish, that’s what,” Frank continued, pacing behind his desk now, his expensive Italian shoes thudding against the Persian rug. “Thinks he can just walk away, like the past doesn’t mean jack. Like we don’t mean jack.”

Lou cleared his throat delicately. “He’s always been a loose cannon, Frank. You knew that when you brought him in.”

Frank whirled on him, his face contorted with fury. “Yeah, well, I also knew he was the best. The best hitter I ever had. He cleaned up messes nobody else could, and he did it without batting an eye. I gave him everything, Lou. Everything! And this is how he repays me?”

Lou didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch just long enough to diffuse some of Frank’s rage. Then he asked, carefully, “What’s the move, boss?”

Frank ran a hand through his thinning hair, exhaling sharply as he tried to collect himself. He reached for the bourbon, downing it in one gulp before slamming the glass back onto the desk.

“The move?” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “The move is reminding every last one of them what happens when you cross me.”

Lou raised an eyebrow. “You want us to go after him?”

Frank let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No, no. That’s too small. Dean Winchester’s a nobody without that badge he’s wearing now. No, Lou—this is bigger than him.”

Lou tilted his head slightly, waiting for Frank to elaborate.

Frank leaned forward, planting his hands on the desk as he stared at his advisor with cold, calculating eyes. “You saw the news, didn’t you? The pictures? Him standing there, all smug, right next to her.”

“The President,” Lou said, his tone careful.

Frank nodded. “The goddamn President of the United States. He’s not just working for her—he’s protecting her. Like she’s some kind of queen, and he’s her loyal knight.”

Lou remained silent, his brow furrowing slightly as he began to piece together Frank’s train of thought.

Frank straightened up, pacing again as his mind raced. “You know what that makes us look like? Weak. Powerless. Like we let one of our own turn his back on us and walk away without so much as a scratch. It’s a slap in the face, Lou. A slap in the face to the entire goddamn network.”

Lou shifted his weight slightly. “So… what are you suggesting?”

Frank stopped pacing, turning to face him with a grim smile. “We send a message. Not just to him, but to everyone. To the entire world.”

Lou’s eyes narrowed. “You’re talking about—”

“I’m talking about taking her out,” Frank interrupted, his voice low but resolute. “The President. You want to send a message, Lou? There’s no message bigger than that. You kill the President of the United States, and suddenly, everybody remembers who the hell we are. They remember who I am.”

Lou’s expression remained unreadable, but the tension in the room thickened. “That’s… a bold move, Frank. High risk. High profile.”

“Yeah, and high reward,” Frank shot back. “Think about it. This isn’t just about revenge, Lou. This is about power. Control. We pull this off, and we’re untouchable. Nobody messes with us, not the feds, not the other families, not even that bastard Winchester.”

Lou hesitated, clearly weighing the implications of such a move. “It’s not gonna be easy. Security around her is tighter than anything we’ve ever dealt with. And Winchester’s no slouch. He’ll see us coming a mile away.”

Frank smirked, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Then we don’t let him see us coming. We hit her when she’s vulnerable, when nobody’s expecting it. And as for Winchester… well, let’s just say I’d love to see his face when he realizes he couldn’t protect her.”

Lou nodded slowly, though his expression remained guarded. “All right. I’ll put the word out, see who’s available for a job like this.”

Frank’s smile widened, but it was a smile devoid of warmth. “Good. And Lou?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Make sure it’s someone we can trust. Someone who understands what’s at stake. This isn’t just another hit—this is history.”

Lou inclined his head, then turned and left the room, leaving Frank alone with his thoughts.

Frank sank into his chair, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips as he poured himself another glass of bourbon. He swirled the amber liquid thoughtfully, his mind already racing with plans and contingencies.

Dean Winchester thought he could walk away from the life. Thought he could play the hero, stand in the light, and leave the darkness behind. But Frank knew better. The darkness had a way of finding you, no matter where you ran.

And soon, Dean would learn that lesson the hard way.

The alley was dark, a maze of cobblestones and shadows that swallowed up the last traces of daylight. The smell of stale garbage and rain-soaked concrete hung in the air, thick and oppressive. It was the kind of place where deals were made in whispers, where the murky dealings of the underworld could be carried out without the watchful eyes of the world’s authorities.

Lou stood at the entrance to the alley, the tip of his polished shoes barely touching the edge of the grime-covered street. He had a hand in his coat pocket, fingers wrapped tightly around a wad of cash, his eyes scanning the alley with practiced indifference. He wasn’t here to make friends. He wasn’t even here to talk, not really.

He was here to ensure the job was done—no questions asked, no mistakes. Frank had given the order, and Lou was the one who would make sure it was carried out to the letter.

The shadows at the far end of the alley shifted, and Lou stiffened. The figure emerging from the darkness was tall, a silhouette whose face remained hidden in the dimness, a hood pulled up over their head to shield their identity. They moved with deliberate grace, footsteps silent against the damp ground, their presence unsettling, as if the shadows themselves had brought them to life.

Lou didn’t flinch. He had met people like this before. People who operated in the dark, who carried out their work with ruthless efficiency. People who didn’t need to be seen to make an impact.

“You got the money?” the figure rasped, their voice low and gravelly, as though it had been worn down by years of disuse.

Lou pulled the cash from his pocket, holding it up to the faint light spilling out from the windows above. He glanced at it for a moment before slipping it into a plain envelope. It was a sizable sum—enough to make even the most hardened hitman pause, but that wasn’t why Lou was here. Money was always the easy part. It was the message that had to be delivered, and that was worth more than any amount of cash.

“Everything you need is in there,” Lou said, his tone calm and measured. “But it’s not just about the money. It’s about making a statement. A clean job. No mess. It has to be perfect.”

The figure stepped closer, now within arm's reach. Their silhouette was more defined now, the curve of their shoulders broad under the dark fabric of their coat, but still, their face remained hidden.

“A statement?” The figure's voice was skeptical, but there was something in the way they asked the question that suggested they had heard it all before.

Lou didn’t hesitate. “The President. You’re going to take her out. Make it clean, make it quick. No mistakes. And when it’s done, it needs to be clear—this wasn’t just some random attack. It’s a message. A message to everyone who thought they could turn their backs on us. He turned his back on us, and now we pay him back.”

The figure’s face remained in shadow, but Lou could see the faint movement of their head as if they were considering the weight of the job.

“You’re talking about her, the new President?” the figure finally asked, the tone slightly amused. “I thought she was untouchable.”

“She’s not. No one is.” Lou’s voice hardened. “You do this, and everyone will know. You send a message to every fucking player in this game—no one walks away clean.”

There was a brief pause, then the figure took a step forward, the shadows lifting slightly as they approached. Lou’s eyes narrowed, scanning them closely. There was something familiar about their movements, the way they carried themselves. The way they moved like they owned the dark.

Lou took a step back, the envelope still clenched in his hand. “You understand what I’m asking?”

The figure nodded slowly, then pushed back the hood.

Lou’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as the face emerged from the shadows.

It was him.

The man standing in front of him wasn’t just a hitman. It was Benny Lafitte, one of the most notorious operatives to ever work for VIPER. The same man who had helped Frank build his empire, the same man who had been second only to Dean Winchester in terms of skill and ruthlessness. Benny was a ghost, someone who had disappeared from the underworld years ago after a particularly bloody job, but now he was back. And he was standing in front of Lou, as calm and unbothered as ever.

“Benny,” Lou said, his voice betraying a mixture of surprise and respect. “I didn’t expect you to be the one on this job.”

Benny’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “You didn’t think I’d hear about Dean’s little betrayal? Of course I’m involved. You think I’ve been sitting around twiddling my thumbs for the last few years?”

Lou was still processing the fact that Benny Lafitte—the ghost of the criminal underworld—was standing before him, ready to take on one of the most dangerous assignments Frank had ever given. Benny had a reputation for being precise, deadly, and entirely unpredictable.

“You always did like to be the best,” Lou muttered, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Benny was back.

Benny chuckled lowly, the sound dark and almost amused. “The best doesn’t retire, Lou. The best waits for the right time to come back. And it looks like the right time is now.”

Lou handed him the envelope. “The target’s the President. Make it look like a clean, political hit. We need the world to see it as a message. It’s not just about her—it’s about what Dean’s done. This is for him. For betraying the family.”

Benny took the envelope from Lou with a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers brushing against Lou’s briefly. Then he turned it over in his hands, examining it as if it were a piece of fine art rather than a job request.

“I’m clear on the details, Lou,” Benny said, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. “But just so we’re clear… this is his punishment, not hers, right?”

Lou’s eyes darkened, his gaze cold. “This is for Dean. The President? She’s just in the way.”

Benny gave a nod, his eyes glinting with something darker now. “Then we’ll get this done. Clean. Quick. And unforgettable.”

Lou turned to leave, already hearing the faint sound of Benny’s footsteps receding into the shadows behind him.

One thing was for sure: If anyone could send a message like Frank wanted, it was Benny Lafitte. And once it was done, the underworld would know—no one walked away from VIPER. Not even Dean Winchester.

Benny stood still in the alley for a moment after Lou had walked away, his hand still wrapped tightly around the envelope. His eyes flickered up to the narrow slice of moonlight overhead, a reminder of just how far he’d fallen—and how far he was willing to go to make sure Dean Winchester didn’t come out on top.

The plan was simple: in and out, make the shot, leave no trace. Frank had asked for precision, but Benny had other ideas.

Why make it clean, when you could make it memorable?

After all, what was the point of sending a message if no one remembered it?

And so, as the chill of the night air wrapped itself around him, Benny’s mind began to race, already plotting the President’s downfall in the most spectacular way possible. He had no love for Dean, and he had no love for the President either. They were simply obstacles in a game much larger than any of them could comprehend.

And Benny Lafitte? Well, Benny was the one who would tip the scales.

This was going to be a hell of a show.

As Benny disappeared back into the shadows, Lou stepped into his car, the weight of the job heavy on his mind. Frank had given the order, and Benny would follow through. The message would be loud and clear.

The underworld would never forget what had happened tonight.

And neither would Dean.

NEXT UP:

Bella leaned in with a sly grin, her eyes practically sparkling with mischief. “We’ve been friends for how long now, huh? You’re telling us nothing happened last night? Nothing?”

You swallowed again, resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably in your seat. “What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to play it cool.

Steph didn’t let you off the hook. She put her coffee down and stared at you seriously, her eyes narrowing. “Come on, you were talking about him last night, and now you can’t even focus? You’ve been staring at that plate like it’s your first meal in months.”

Your heart pounded as the realization hit you—they knew. They were onto you.

You let out a shaky breath. You could feel your pulse racing, the thought of admitting what had happened last night making your stomach flip uncomfortably. “It’s just…” You trailed off, trying to find the words, your fingers nervously tapping the edge of your glass.

Bella’s smirk only widened. “Come on, tell us. What’s the deal with you and your very handsome bodyguard?”

Your breath caught. You hadn’t expected them to be so direct, and yet it was exactly what you needed. You let out a long breath, looking down at the table to avoid their eyes.

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©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

[courtingchaos]

Strawberry

Pairing: Line Cook!Eddie x Barista Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie lets slip that he wants something from you, and you’re more than happy to oblige. 😉

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Alright, a little explanation. This is technically the fourth installment for this little AU. I just…haven’t finished the other two yet. So if some of this feels like it was maybe pre-established? It is, just in another document that y’all will be able to see soon…ish. Also! This is my first pegging fic, so I ask some mercy for any inaccuracies/issues you may find! Strawberry is the safeword.

Warnings: Pegging! Eddie is being pegged by Reader, A little dom reader if you squint, oral (male receiving), mentions of alcohol, language.

18+ NSFW No Minors Allowed or Wanted

“Okay, so what am I looking for here?”

“Dildos.”

“Yeah, I meant on the wall.” You smirk at Eddie while he gives you a disappointed stare.

“Oh hardy har har.”

You laugh at him and he tries to hit you with a bottle of lube. There’s a small tussle that follows and the poor clerk at the register looks over the screen and clears her throat at the two of you. “Y’all good?” You hide your face in Eddie’s shoulder while he tries his best to straighten out. He nods and waves at the clerk and then slaps your shoulder when you keep shaking against him.

“Would you fuckin’ behave?!”

“Never! You brought me into a sex shop to shop for dildos, what do expect from me?”

“Class?” He says, turning you around to face the wall of silicon again. You snort and grab the bright pink dildo in front of you.

“Is this what you had in mind?” You push it into his chest and he turns it over, staring at the front of the package.

“It’s only 5 inches, you think I can’t handle more?” You know he’s kidding, but you can see the pink blush on his ears where he’s starting to embarrass himself. You decide to push it further since this afternoon is turning into one long bit anyways.

“Oh baby, you couldn’t handle what I’d like to give you.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and you grab at his hip, pretending to hump the side of him while his face flushes. “Aww,” You lean in close and push your nose into his rapidly heating cheek, “You gettin’ all hot and bothered?”

“Maybe.” He looks sidelong at you when your fingers creep under his t-shirt and graze his stomach. You smush your face in more and laugh into his cheek while he shoves the box back on the shelf. “Listen, you wanna pick this out or not?”

“Oh no no, this wasn’t my idea.”

“Well if you don’t want to do it, we don’t have to.” He drops his smile to give you a serious look. You know he means it, always does when it comes to your shared comfort but he’s not getting away that easy. You grab him by the belt loops and pull him behind a pillar, out of the direct view of the cashier.

“I’m sorry, you think you’re just going to casually mention that you’ve been thinking about me pegging you and then try and back out of it?” He looks down at you and tries to stop the smile creeping out across his face. “No, I am absolutely going to do this but it’s your pick Eddie.” You nod your head over to the wall. “I want you to choose.”

He rolls his eyes but turns to look again while you wind your arms around him from behind to hold him tight. You trail along behind while he wanders the store, showing you stuff over his shoulder while you nod in approval or tell him no. You keep your chin hooked on his trap so you can stay close to his neck, your breath whispering over his skin when you reply to him. Your hands wander, light fingertips bunching up his shirt a bit to drag across his hip.

He’s a little bit of a mess in this tiny store. Between you talking softly in his ear about the various toys and the gentle kisses you place on his bare skin, he’s sweating.

“Are you trying to start something?” He whispers to you when you point out the grouping of handcuffs.

“Isn’t that the point of this little errand?”

“Kind of, I just didn’t think you’d be so into this.”

“Fucking you? Eddie, that’s all I think about now.”

“Hey that’s my line.” He says that a little more breathy than he means to and watches your eyes light up. You bare your teeth, snapping playfully at him. It’s a good thing his hands are full because he wants to drag you out of the store and shove you in the backseat of his truck. Obviously you can tell he has an idea so you grab some stuff from him and gesture to the register, mischief in your eyes. “You ready?”

The plain black paper bag sits in the corner of his room taunting him while the universe actively works against him. He’d gotten called in twice and you’d had to stay late every night this week, resulting in no time for anything remotely fun. You’d only gotten as far as looping the black harness around your hips, trying to figure out what belt tightened around which leg. He’s only got fantasy fueling him through the week, the image of you turning around in the full length mirror inspecting your new accessory the fuse for all his thoughts.

It’s the end of your week, a late Sunday and he knows when you show up you’ll be tired and quiet and looking for a shower. He’s already started dinner, having gotten out of work on time himself for once, just so you don’t have to worry about it. He is however, still stuck on the bag and the items therein.

This isn’t his first time getting fucked, but it is his first time doing it with you. He hasn’t really trusted anyone like this in a long time and he’d let it slip one night, a too hot shower and your hands in his hair making him comfortable and vulnerable and he’d been just drunk enough to slur the thought out. You’d been quiet at first, fingers still sudsing through his curls and nails scratching at his scalp. He’d tried to take it back until you’d shushed him and dragged your hands down his chest, leaving one lying flat while the other wrapped confidently around his cock.

“You want me to fuck you?” Words hushed under the spray from the shower head. All he can do is nod, throat sticking when he tries to make a sound. You move your hand slowly up and down and he tilts his forehead into yours to watch, mesmerized and drunk on you and a good handful of cocktails. “Hmm?” You purr at him, raising the hand on his stomach up to tilt his head back enough so he can see your eyes. “Whatcha gotta say to that big guy?”

His laugh turns into a gasp when your hand speeds up and your fingertips dig into the side of his jaw. You’re holding him in place, watching him twitch and moan under your hands. He’s edged closer than he thought, the coil of heat springing to life low in his belly.

“I’m serious Eddie, tell me.” Your smile is dangerous, a glint of teeth under the sweetness. He grabs at your neck to steady himself and to try to bring you in for a kiss but you hold tight. Keep his head in your grasp and your lips just out of reach. “Tell me you want me to fuck you and I’ll let you kiss me.” The hand on his cock slows down. He groans long and low and his grip tightens behind your head. You squeeze around the fat head of him and he can still smell the liquor on your breath when you talk. “Tell me and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fu-ck please, god damnit.”

“Huh?” You’re being cruel and he’s lapping it up. He’s been waiting to see this mean side of you, knew it was in there somewhere.

“Please…fuck, I want you to fuck me.”

You lean in and drop the hand on his face so he can crowd you against the shower wall. The kiss is bruising, all teeth and slipping skin and you barely have to speed up your hand before he’s cumming, spilling hot over your fist. You hiss and ‘aww’ at him when he gets overstimulated but he still leans against you, knows you’ll take care of him like he does you.

He can hear movement in the hallway that pulls him out of his thoughts. Gives himself a shake to try and tamp down the memory he’s been reliving for 20 minutes. He almost ducks into his bedroom when he hears the key turn in the lock, an attempt to hide the semi that’s clear as day under his shorts. You get in first though and he greets you a little stiffly, a jerky wave from the stove where he’s still stirring curry.

“You okay?” You’ve barely put your bag down and kicked off your shoes and you’ve got worry all across your face.

“I’m fine!” He lies, still picturing the shower. You get up close to him, eyes darting between his own. You’re not mad but obviously not in the mood for anything at all probably. He knows that dead look well.

“Why don’t you take a shower? Dinner’s almost ready.” He wants you out of the kitchen so he can refocus and calm down. The last thing he needs is to be up your ass about anything. (He just wants you up his.)

You make a noncommittal sound. Give him a once over and he thinks you might spot his half hard dick but the look goes away as quick as it came.

“I’ll just be a few minutes, I promise.”

He’d heard the shower start and had to wrangle himself in, had half hoped you’d come out feeling better and maybe walk your fingers up his back. You’d yet to leave the bathroom though, an hour after he heard the water stop. He knows you’re just decompressing, staring at your phone and scrolling scrolling scrolling but also he’s out here. Worked up, unknown to you, but worked up all the same.

Eddie has somehow twisted himself into a bad mood. Dinner had been ready for a while and you’d said just a few minutes. Yet here he sat, staring at a tv screen with some video game he had no interest in tonight. Finally he hears the bathroom door open and you swan out, damp hair half dried from how long you must have been sitting on the edge of the tub.

“Have a good shower?” He asks flatly, barely giving you a side eye when you walk past into the kitchen. He’d put your plate in the microwave and had made a point to have all the dishes done so you’d maybe get how long you’d been.

“I feel a little more human, but no amount of hot water can make up for the travesty that was tonight.” You’re oblivious apparently and he just huffs, a small nod directed at the TV. “You okay?” You sit directly next to him on the couch, sympathy in the crease of your brows.

“I said I’m fine.” He had. Like an hour ago. Deep down, in the part of his brain that isn’t mad for no reason, he knows what he sounds like. Knows he’s snapping and being a little mean but he feels a certain way and can’t seem to get out of the funk of annoyance.

“I know I was in there for a while, I’m sorry.” You sound deflated. He should put his controller down and look at you and talk to you but he just keeps staring forward, unable to get his brain off its one track of ‘Horny and Angry’. He gives a half shrug and before he can unpause the game you reach a hand over and rest it on his knee. “Seriously Ed, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He does look at you then, feels the anger melt a little when he sees the tired look you give him. You pat his knee and eat in silence, watching him meander aimlessly around the map. You get up and wash your plate and wander back into his room, the whole time he’s screaming at himself to follow you in and apologize. He’s almost ready to toss the controller to the side when he hears you rummaging around in a paper bag.

“Hey Ed?” You call to him from inside his room.

“What?”

“Can you come in here?”

Eddie finds himself in a lot of situations with you. Most of them fun, some of them suck but this one has moved to the top of his Best of All Time list. It’d taken him a fraction of second too long to answer you and you come out of the bedroom to stand in front of him. Wordlessly lean down and kiss him, hands soft where they fall on his neck. All of his built up frustration boils to the surface and all he wants is to move you back into the bedroom. He‘s halted when you press him back, those hands on his neck a little tighter.

“What have you been up to?” You whisper against his mouth. He’s not sure how to answer, doesn’t really know what your asking. The context is missing and-

“Have you just been mean because you’re horny?” Your laugh brushes across his face.

“Mean? I made dinner.” He’s still pissed.

“And you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder since I got out of the shower.”

“No, you got out of the shower an hour ago.”

“Did you time me?” You stand straight and one hand trails up to lightly hold his jaw. You look appraisingly down your nose at him. “I said I was sorry.”

“And I just wanted you to come eat dinner.” He huffs.

“I don’t think that’s what you wanted. I looked in our goodie bag.”

“…okay.” He might know what you’re talking about now, remembers the empty box he left in there.

“Did you start without me?” The tilt of your head feels condescending and he likes that a little too much. Wants to see how far he can push it. Maybe he can make you feel guilty for making him wait.

“Like two days ago, yeah.” A smug smile stretches his lips. “I got tired of waiting.”

You ‘tsk’ at him and very suddenly the hand under his jaw isn’t so soft. It grips while your other comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, keeping it tilted back in place. You hover over him, just barely out of reach again and this isn’t the part of the game he enjoys, when he can’t reach your lips.

“Eddie.” Your voice is low and soft. “You told me specifically that I’d get to see you use any and all things we bought, that included that pretty little plug. So where is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

That makes you full on laugh in his face, breaking character for a moment. “I’m sorry Ed, are you being serious or is this-“

“Fuckin’ play along.” He murmurs through a grin.

“Are you being purposefully bratty?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were the only one allowed to pout around here.” This moment of levity makes his stomach unknot. He knows you’re not mad at him, not really. Maybe a little annoyed but he can work with that. You pull his hair a little, another tug that makes his mouth fall open.

“Are you wearing it right now?”

“What? No. I was last night though.” He knows that’ll piss you off, considering you’d gone home to your own place after work instead.

“Are you fucking-“ When you straighten up you pull him with you. He stumbles and drops the controller on the floor with the sudden movement, head still trapped between your palms so he can’t quite see the floor. He’s following you to his room while a laugh builds in his chest. This is what he’s been waiting for all week, longer if he’s honest with himself. He always wants to take care of you in all the ways but recently he’s been feeling a little restless, a little frustrated.

“I like this side of you, where’s she been hiding?” He laughs when you push him down against the bed. The paper bag falls over and he notices the only thing in there is the empty box he left. He slides his eyes over to you where you stand at the foot of the bed.

“I bet you thought I was on my phone that whole time, huh?”

He doesn’t say anything, the heat of arousal blooming low, that anticipation making his stomach tense.

“I noticed when I came in, you’re so easy to read sometimes. Also, your shorts are very loose.” You head into the bathroom and he immediately rips his shirt off, very suddenly sure of where his night is headed. When you come back out he catches the purple silicon in your fist and lets out a quiet moan.

“God you are easy, aren’t you?” Your gaze wanders over him sitting up on his elbows, completely naked and staring at you wide eyed and smirking. His dick lays heavy against his stomach and there’s no hiding his excitement from you. “You know I was going to be all sweet about this and treat you like a hot house lily, but I don’t think you want that.”

He shakes his head. “No. Where’s that mean barista I fell for? She only seems to come out when I don’t do the dishes right.”

“Do you want me to just roast you about your drink all night? I can do that, easy.” You toss the strap on the bed next to him and descend on him. “Do you want me to be mean to you?” You ask between kisses on his stomach, hands roving over his sides and tracing dark ink.

“Maybe a little.” He says it shyly while looking down his chest to catch your reaction. You just tilt your head, contemplating while moving up his body. When you get to his neck, soft lips under his jaw moving up, you lick the shell of his ear and watch the shiver run down his spine.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Oh, never sweetness.” He’s all shining eyes and slowly emptying head, the weight of the harness next to his hand the only anchor he’s got to this moment. You pull away from him though, entirely too clothed and serious.

“I mean it Eddie. This is new shit, I’m not messing this up.” The finality in your voice gives him enough clarity to stop teasing for a second.

“I promise I will strawberry the fuck out of this if I don’t like it.” He holds up his hand, scouts honoring you. “Now would you please take your fucking clothes off and put the fucking harness on.”

In the time it takes you to get everything situated, you tell Eddie all about your hour in the bathroom. How you’d been planning since your lunch earlier to come home and do this. He tries to help you with the straps once but you slap his hand away and push him back on the bed.

“Hands to yourself.” Wordlessly he scoots back to the middle of the bed to watch you finish undressing. “Good boy.”

That makes his eyes roll and his cock jump. Good boy. It plays on repeat, echoing off the back of his skull while you talk about how you got it, finally understood the appeal when you’d gotten the harness on. Watched yourself run your hand up and down the purple silicon and you’d just had to try it out. “That’s why I was in there so long. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

He pauses, vision going foggy when he realizes what you’ve said. It’s not the most scandalizing thing but you were two doors away, fucking yourself with his new toy. Ignoring him and the dinner he made so you could tease him later with this information.

“It’s not quite you, you’re something else.” You say with a wink, a few steps away from the bed. You’re slow approach makes the strap bob and he watches it with baited breath and mouth watering. He’s not sure where to look anymore, every inch of you setting his thoughts on fire. If he thought you were hot before this is going to end him, the way you kneel on the bed and shimmy up his chest, the tip of your big purple dick nudging his lips. “You gonna help me out or what?”

His laugh is light but his eyes are all dark, pupils wide and lids heavy when he looks up at you. Keeps eye contact when he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to barely lick the tip.

“Oh come on, I know you can do better than that.” You coax him and run a hand over the top of his head, anchoring your fingers in the soft curls. “Show me what else that mouth can do.” A pull at the crown of his head to lean him forward and he catches that heavy look in your eye. It makes him sit up and tuck his elbows under his back to prop him up better so he can fully blow you. His eyes slip shut when he opens his jaw, a soft gasp from above let’s him know he’s doing it right. Good boy good boy good boy.

“Is this why you get so cocky?” Your voice is strained over the wet sound oh him sucking. “Is’hot.” You reach back to grab his cock, the soft heat heavy in your palm. His tip is slick with precum where it’s been dribbling on his stomach. “I haven’t even touched you yet and look at you.” A slow drag of your hand up to squeeze the head and he groans, mouth full and drooling. He hears you whisper under your breath, a faint ‘oh my god’ before your hand travels down further and your fingertips inch under to grab his balls. He jerks up and gags and you laugh, still gripping his hair to hold him in place. “Ed you look so pretty like this.” The pressure on his sac tightens and his brain goes off line. Eyes rolling when you keep pulling his hair and give a little thrust into his mouth. “Is this what I look like? Hmm? When I blow you?” His arms tremble with the strain but he refuses to give up, not when you’re touching him like this and teasing him like this and making all those breathy little comments above him. He bobs his head and rolls his tongue around like you could feel it, tries to swallow around the head bullying the back of his throat. He has to force his eyes open to look up at you, to see you shake your head at him and pout condescendingly. “No, I don’t think I look half as good as you.” You keep switching between rolling his balls in your palm and slowly jerking him off and he’s starting to think he’s going to cum before you ever fuck him. He taps your knee twice to get your attention and you let go of everything, making to swing your leg over when he stills you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-“ His voice is hoarse and wet and he has to swallow a few times before he can talk. “I need you.”

“Need me to what?” Its genuine, concern still laced in your words. He’s staring up at you though, fully fucked out look on his face, pliant and loose on his bed and you know he’s okay. “Tell me Eddie. What do you need?” A soft touch pushes back his hair from his face, skin damp and hot. “What do you want?” You know it’s a hard thing to admit so you give him time. Let him run his hands up your thighs and over your stomach. He kneads your tits, pushes them together and when you grind down against the backside of the strap looking for some kind of friction he pinches a nipple to make you gasp. He keeps a hand at your chest and uses the other to pull you down for a kiss. He’s flushed and hot under you, skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat. The groans rumbling in the back of his throat make you anxious to hear more. You want to know what he sounds like when he’s under you and lost in his own pleasure. Head empty except for your voice and your touch.

Rarely does he give up control, typically the giver with you but this is special. He’s already quieted down, smart remarks replaced with these whimpers and pants in your mouth where he holds you close to kiss you. When you pull away his eyes are shining and you make a show of shimmying down till you’re kneeling between his thighs and looking up at him.

“You want me to touch you?” You grab his cock and he nods, watches you lazily jerk him. A few licks to the underside of his head and his face scrunches up in concentration.

“Tell me.”

“Yes please.” He breaths out and you open your mouth and sink down, nose buried in the wiry hair. You keep your eyes up, watching him drop his head back against the bed. He drags his hands down his face and when you pull up, pulling his own little tongue swirl move on him he holds his fist over his mouth. You let go with a gasp.

“Absolutely not.”

He looks down his nose at you, eyes wide.

“I’m not doing all this for you to be quiet.” The smile you give him feels feral. “I wanna hear it all, Eddie. Every little sound.” You give him a final look before bowing your head to swallow him down again. You’ve rendered him speechless it would seem, until you slide a hand down and gently tug on his balls. A long groan and a hand sliding into your hair makes you smile around your mouthfull. They’re heavy in your palm, rolling them around until you can wrap your index and thumb finger around to pull down. His hips jerk and when you feel his thighs tensing you sit up, panting and laughing at his visible distress.

“Wh-“

“Under the pillow there.” You nod your head towards his side of the bed. He looks dazed for a moment before patting around and finding the bottle of lube you threw under there earlier.

“Oh you’re crafty.”

“You have no idea.”

He hands it to you and you can see him holding his breath. You let him squirm for a little while longer, let him watch you open the bottle and cover your hand in it. It drips on his stomach and cock and you watch his muscles contract, his anticipation visible everywhere.

“You gonna relax?”

“I am relaxed.” He lies. He pulls his feet up next your knees and squishes you between his own. “I’m just excited.” His own squirrelly little smile flashed at you. You’re excited too, but nervous. You’d done your own reading outside of everything you’d asked Eddie but still. This was your first time doing this and you didn’t want to hurt him.

“Tell me if anything hurts?” He nods and keeps watch of your slick hand. Watches you graze his balls again and feels your fingers graze over his ass. Elbowing his legs to give you more room and you slide a slick finger over the tight ring of muscle. His eyes slip shut and his mouth falls open on a deep, breathy laugh. He’s gripping the back of his thighs when you prod gently, tip of your index finger looking for a little give. You grab the bottle again and open it, drizzling more lube over your strap. Before Eddie can comprehend anything, you grab both cocks in your free hand and thrust.

“Oh my fucking god”

“Good?” You use that outburst to push your finger in gently. Eddie moans and tries to find his footing again when his feet start to slide on the sheets.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna cum immediately.”

“Doing what?”

“Everything.”

“Oh good.” Another thrust of your hips and another push of your finger and it’s no time at all before you have him at your mercy. Everything is slick and sticky and you’ve managed to get two fingers in, stretching him just enough before he snaps at you.

“If you don’t fuck me right now this night is going to end very fast.” It’s a low warning, gasped down at you where you’re still jerking him and your strap off. You almost want to laugh but the sight of him flushed and wanting is making you feel crazy. When you finally let go of him and gently remove your fingers, you tap his leg to get him to look at you.

“Promise me if it hurts you’ll tell me.”

“I promise, just…please.” His eyes are giant orbs of black ringed in deep brown, blown out in lust and heat and want. Any real thoughts you might have had about being textbook over this is out the window and you just watch yourself line up against him, tip barely pushing against tense muscle before it pops in. Your inhale matches his and you both marvel at this new sensation together. The slightest movement forward and you can feel him clenching around the strap and pulling you in. It takes you a few moments of adjusting and readjusting, making sure you aren’t hurting him or moving too quickly when he snaps again.

“Would you fucking move?” He wheezes. His thighs tremble in anticipation and he’s about to bite his lip in two if you don’t move your hips.

“Hey, I’m trying to be gentle-“

“I’m fine! Just move!” He cuts you off and stares you down when you open your mouth again to argue. He’s about to suggest you lay down and he can do all the work when you suddenly sit up off your calves and push forward. No snap of your hips or quick shove into him just enough that you sink in halfway and he drops his retort. Drops his head against the pillow and drops his hands to the comforter where they grasp for something, anything to hold on to. It’s like you punched the breath right out of him and he groans, short gasps when you push forward again and finally fully seat yourself against him. All he can feel are your hands clutching at his thighs and the fullness of you finally in his ass.

“oh fuckfuckfuck.” It’s been a minute since he’s done this but he’s happy he waited for you. He’s currently busy watching stars explode behind his eyelids but he knows you’ve got that shit eating grin plastered on your face. Barely moving against him, just little thrust to get a better grip on him and his chest is heaving with breathy laughs.

“Is that what you wanted?” He does answer you, just in a strangle of words. You can see his throat bob where he’s swallowing and trying to talk and you just shush him. Run a hand up his abdomen and to his chest where you can feel his heart beating fast.

“Oh I know baby.” A gentle pat on his sternum before you drag your hand down again and grab him, cock slick with all the extra lube. “I bet that feels good, huh?”

He just whimpers at you. It’s such a sweet sound coming out of him. You’ve barely gotten into the swing of this and he’s already a wreck.

“Ed, you’re so pretty like this.” A slow drag of your hand pulls another garbled sound from deep in his throat. Another roll of your hips makes him sigh and laugh and suddenly you’re finding your rhythm. His bed rocks under you when you really start going, the whines punched out of him on every thrust fueling you.

“Does that feel better?” You coo at him and he pushes his head back further into the bed. Let’s out a deep, stuttering cry when you roll your hips back into him and angle up. He lifts his leg up momentarily, dazedly looking for a place to set his foot and you hook him under his knee. Gently pull it up close to your chest where the hair tickles your sensitive nipple. The sounds knocking out of him are pathetic and small, little whimpers and whispers of your name drawn out between a litany of fucks. He’s barely listening to you, too dick drunk to pay attention to anything else but they way you roll your hips against his.

This isn’t a fast night and you wouldn’t call this lovemaking by any stretch. He had pissed you off earlier and maybe you were making him suffer a bit but really this was for him. He’d talked this up for a few weeks and driven you to the shop and bought the toys and then you’d made him wait. Not purposefully, but nonetheless it’d been your fault you two hadn’t done this yet. Getting a little lost in thought causes you to slow for a moment too long and Eddie is whining again, lifting his hips up slightly and trying to fuck himself on your big purple dick. The glassy look in his eyes, the way his whole face is drawn downward while he bites his lip. He’s moving his hand again, up and down the length of his cock where you’d stopped your own movements. Desperate and whining and maybe this is a little for you too.

“Oh my god, look at you.”

His eyes find yours before squeezing shut, a pained expression while he rolls his body against you.

“You have no idea how hot you look.” You fuck into him with shallow thrust, obviously hitting that spot that’s making him keen. He’s grabbing onto anything he can, nails digging into your skin when he catches your arm. “This is-you’re amazing Eddie.” Your hands roam up his sides while you crowd him, leaning in and down to give him a desperate kiss. This closeness makes it hard for you to move as much but he’s still whining while his hands find your hair and your neck, holding you close.

“Please don’t fucking stop-I’m-“ his voice hitches when you obviously hit that sweet spot, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“You close?” Whispered into his open mouth, it’s all damp air and hot breath and you’ve never been more enraptured by something.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” You’re watching artwork unravel under you. The way his skin flushes red under all that black ink, the heaving of his chest and the sounds punching out of his throat. You marvel at him lasting this long, his cock ruddy and leaking against his stomach, untouched in the last few minutes and you feel a little bad. “Oh come on Ed let me have it.” You grab the sides of his neck, fingers splayed up into his hair. His hips jump at the contact and he babbles and begs for you to keep going. “Let go for me.” The slick sound of him trapped between your bodies and the string of pleas from him fill the room and you know he’s teetering on the edge.

“Come on baby, let me hear you.”

He goes stiff for moment, neck taut under your thumbs rubbing circles. His hands pull at the back of your neck and his knees dig into your hips and the absolute cry he lets loose has you feeling some type of new way. He spills hot between you, lines shooting up to his chest and he jerks under you. Body convulsing and mouth running while he rides out his high and you slow the roll of your hips. He’s breathing like he’s run a marathon, eyes hazy and staring through the ceiling above. You give him a minute to calm down before you sit up and inspect the mess you’ve made of him.

“You okay?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Eddie.”

A grunt then, hands dropping from the back of your neck to slap against the sheets. You run a finger down his chest through the mess of cum and sweat and lube and laugh lightly.

“You have fun?” You try to shift back to pull out but he hooks his ankles behind you, keeping you close.

“Can I have a kiss?” He asks, small and unfocused. He’s still staring up at the ceiling but his eyes are a little less hazy.

“Oh of course you can.” You lean back down and cage his head in between your forearms. You give him a few gentle pecks while you card your fingertips through his hair. His breathing is coming back to a normal pace and you can feel the tremor in his legs calming down.

“Hey.” Whispered softly against his lips to try and get his attention. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…great.” He finally tears his gaze away from the ceiling to look at you. “I’m thirsty.”

“If you let me get up I can help with that.”

It’s with a lot of sighing and protest that he finally unwinds his legs and lets you pull out. He gasps and grimaces but gives you a pointed finger.

“If you ask me one more time.” He watches you untangle the harness from your legs and the mock outrage you shoot him.

“I’m concerned!”

You leave the bedroom naked to get him water and then head back to the bathroom to get a washcloth.

“I’m not going to bruise your ego if I clean you up am I?”

Eddie still hasn’t moved, legs hung over the side of the bed and arms splayed. “I don’t care.”

So you hand him the glass of water and kneel beside him, wiping up the mess you two made. He almost chokes on his water when you run the towel under his balls.

“Warn me!” He rolls away from you while you laugh and try to get anything else off of him. “Just stop, come here.” He pulls the towel out of your hand and throws it towards the bathroom, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to him. It takes some finessing to get you both under the sheets, and even more time for Eddie to finally get situated with his nose buried under your ear.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Immensely.” He sighs and winds his limbs around you, keeping you close to his overheated body. It’s quiet for a while while you trail your fingers over his skin and through his hair, soothing him into a calm state. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“I didn’t even get to help you.”

“I told you, I took care of that already.” You smile when you feel him still.

“I forgot about that.” You can feel his eyebrow raises against your neck.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to, you fucked them all out of me.” There’s a giggle fit between you two before you settle down again. You work around him clung to you to plug in both your phones and to turn off the bedside light. You think he’s gotta be falling asleep with how heavy he’s leaning into you when he makes a little noise into the crook of your neck.

“What’s up?”

“I feel really stupid saying this right now, but I really want to say it. I know it’s probably some after glow bullshit but…” He trails off. Head still buried in your neck but you can feel the heat of his blush.

“What is it?” You give him a little shake and he just holds on tighter. “Seriously, you can tell me Eddie.”

“I won’t bite.”

He laughs. “I love you.”

It’s your turn to stop. With how much of him is draped over you, you know he can feel your heart beating faster but he can’t see the stupid grin spreading over your face.

“I don’t expect you to say it back or anything I just…I know it’s only been a few months but it’s how I feel and I wanted to say it.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Even before the sex shop.”

That makes you laugh loudly and it takes a few minutes for you to calm down enough to talk.

“Do you want me to wait until we wake up to say it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” That smile is still there for the whole dark room to see. You settle back down against him, hand wrapped around the back of his head cradling him to you. He peppers a few kisses against your neck, lazily nuzzling before he starts to drift off. When you hear the first sounds of deep breathing you turn your head to bury your nose in his curls and whisper at him.

“I love you too.”

(Sacrifice for the readmore)

[skz-streamer]

2023 VMA's

<- BACK TO MASTERLIST

<- EVENTS TAB

Pairing: ot8 (skz) x fem!reader (9th member)

Genre: Fluff?, Crack? Idol Au

Warnings: suggestive kinda, a small mention of nudity with some outfits.

Notes: When I was watching the VMA's I KNEW I AHD TO DO SOMETHING. sooo here it is :) I realized I forgot to add their interview in here but whatever, also thing is literally all based off of Bongos because of their reactions to that performance LORDDD FUNNY AS HELL. so yea... im also insanely obsessed with them...

Summary: 2023 VMA's turned out to be a little funnier then you thought they would be.

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately face claims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count ~1.8k ;)

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As the van pulled up to the annual 2023 VMA's, the excitement among you and your fellow members of Stray Kids was palpable. This was a momentous occasion, the first time the group had the privilege of attending the prestigious awards show. The energy in the vehicle was infectious, a mix of nervous anticipation and uncontainable joy.

Inside the van, you couldn't help but admire the transformation of your fellow members. They were all dressed to the nines, their stylish suits and glamorous ensembles adding to the aura of excitement that filled the air. Hyunjin, in particular, had undergone a striking change for the occasion. He sported a fresh undercut, a hairstyle he had been yearning to try for a long time. The change suited him perfectly, adding to his already striking appearance.

As the only female member of Stray Kids, you knew that all eyes would be on you, so you had taken extra care with your outfit. You were dressed in a stunning Lapel blazer top button slit skirt set, which you had carefully chosen for the occasion. The top was a sleek black with slightly puffed-out shoulders, a V-neck with a stylish collar, and two buttons at the bottom. It exuded confidence and sophistication. The skirt, on the other hand, was a bit more daring. It hugged your body tightly, emphasizing your curves. It featured a daring slit that ran from the middle of your thigh down to your ankles.

Your choice of outfit had raised some eyebrows, with both the stylists and some of the boys expressing concern that it might be showing too much skin. However, you were quick to defend your choice, reminding them that VMA fashion was all about pushing boundaries and making bold statements. Growing up in the United States, you had been a dedicated fan of the VMA's for as long as you could remember. You had spent years watching the show, voting online, and dreaming of the day when you would be a part of it. Now, that dream had become a reality, and you were determined to make a memorable entrance.

As the van rolled towards the VMA venue, the nervous tension among you and the boys was prominent. Small talk filled the air, a feeble attempt to ease the apprehension that gripped each of you. It was clear that this was a significant moment, one filled with both excitement and trepidation.

You could sense the jitters in the van, a stark contrast to the exuberance that had filled it earlier. The boys were fidgeting, adjusting their suits, and stealing glances at each other. You, too, had thought that stepping onto the pink carpet would dissolve your nervousness, but as the van pulled up and the doors swung open, you were greeted by a frenzy of flashing cameras and enthusiastic shouts.

Cameras flashed from every direction, capturing your every move. The carpet was a vibrant sea of celebrities, some of whom you had admired for years. Your heart raced as you recognized familiar faces, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of fangirling yourself. The sheer star power in the vicinity was overwhelming.

As you walked through the barricades and onto the pink carpet, you were swiftly directed to your designated spot, and the command to smile was given. Your outfit, though daring, suddenly seemed rather modest compared to some of the ensembles on display. Megan's netted, see-through dress and Cardi's low-cut attire were enough to make anyone do a double-take. The boys' jaws nearly hit the ground, especially when Jeongin accidentally bumped into Doja Cat, who was rocking an absolute see-through dress.

Jeongin stammered an apology, and Doja Cat simply smiled and continued on her way. The boys' expressions were priceless, a mixture of shock, amazement, and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. You couldn't help but at their shared amused look, one that communicated, "Did you see her outfit?!"

You didn't need words to convey your thoughts; you your raised eyebrow and rolled your eyes, the boys interpreting it as an “I told you so virgins”, one of your most used lines. The boys understood, and though they didn't say it out loud, their sheepish grins and laughter betrayed their astonishment. Clearly, they were not entirely prepared for the bold fashion choices that often graced the VMA pink carpet.

As you made your way inside the building and found your seats, you realized that you weren't in the front row, but you were still pretty close to the stage. The excitement continued to build within you as you looked around at the familiar faces in the audience. Growing up watching these artists and admiring their work, you couldn't wait for the performances to begin. The nerves from earlier had started to fade, replaced by a sense of anticipation and wonder.

The atmosphere inside the VMA venue was electric as you and the boys chatted excitedly before the performances began. You took the opportunity to introduce some of the artists to them, explaining their music and significance. While most of the artists were already familiar to the boys, you could tell they were particularly excited about Demi Lovato's performance. It wasn't a surprise, given that you had caught them listening to their music in the practice room on multiple occasions, either vibing or dancing.

You, on the other hand, were eagerly anticipating the performances by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion. Their recent collaboration on the song "Bongos" had become one of your favorites, and you couldn't wait to see if they would perform it live. You had a feeling it would be a showstopper.

The show began with NLE Choppa and Nelly, delivering a bold and energetic opening performance. The boys were starting to get into the groove of the VMA's, and you couldn't help but chuckle at some of their flustered moments during the performance, especially when there was some intense "ass-shaking" involved. It was undoubtedly a cultural difference they were experiencing.

As the night continued, you watched Olivia Rodrigo's performance, knowing that Felix was a fan of hers. You couldn't help but notice the reactions of your members to her high notes, particularly Han's expression of awe.

Then came the moment you had been waiting for—Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion's performance of "Bongos." You knew that the boys were in for a surprise, especially with the explicit lyrics and slang used by the two artists. You were sitting next to Changbin, who seemed engrossed, a smirk playing on his lips. You were equally captivated by the performance, and you and Han matched each other's energy as you sang along to the lyrics. You were well-versed in the song, so you had no qualms about singing the explicit parts.

The boys' reactions were priceless. Felix and Chan, who were fluent in English, appeared somewhat surprised by the lyrics, but they couldn't look away from the mesmerizing performance. Jeongin's mouth hung open, and Hyunjin and Changbin were engrossed in a hushed conversation, probably trying to decipher some of the slang. It got so loud that toward the end, both Changbin and Hyunjin turned to face the wall, clearly flustered.

You couldn't resist teasing them, tapping their shoulders and playfully saying, "You don't gotta look away; their sexiness is part of the whole performance. It's the whole point." Your giggle and their embarrassed reactions were amusing.

Seungmin and Minho, although harder to see from your vantage point, likely had similar reactions. The whole scene was a mix of awe and embarrassment, and you couldn't help but laugh heartily at their expense.

The performance concluded with everyone turning back, their faces flushed red. You continued to chuckle and pat them on the shoulders, thoroughly entertained by their reactions. Han was right there with you, and the two of you had a blast throughout the entire performance.

When Demi Lovato took the stage, the boys went wild, fanboying over their incredible talent. It was a joy to witness their enthusiasm.

Later in the evening, awards were announced, and you and the boys engaged in random conversations. Your ears perked up when they discussed K-pop awards, and you paid close attention. You knew that TXT was also nominated and set to perform, so there was an element of nervousness in the air.

Then came the moment you least expected—they announced Stray Kids as the winners! It was your group! The shock initially left you in a daze, and you stumbled slightly on your way to the stage, but Changbin caught you, saving you from a potentially embarrassing fall.

Walking onto the stage with your fellow members, your mind felt fuzzy. Was this real? Chan and Felix took a few words, expressing gratitude and excitement. You chipped in with your thanks here and there, the elation clear in your voice.

----- Backstage

The anticipation backstage was palpable as your performance was up next. You couldn't contain your excitement, even though you had initially pitched a mashup of songs that you believed would be iconic. You had suggested blending "Hall of Fame," "S-Class," and "Super Bowl" into a medley, envisioning a performance that would leave a lasting impression. The combination of "Hall of Fame's" grandeur, the seductive whispers of "Super Bowl," and the catchy vibes of "S-Class" seemed like a recipe for an unforgettable show. However, it seemed that your idea had been outvoted, and the group settled on a remix instead.

Nonetheless, you were determined to give it your all. Backstage, you and your fellow Stray Kids members exchanged reassuring glances, a silent reminder that you were a team and that you had prepared for this moment together.

As you stepped onto the stage, the spotlight illuminated you, and the nerves threatened to shake you. Your heart pounded, but you focused on the task at hand. You were dressed in a short top with gold buttons, paired with shorts, and an undershirt with a yellow print that matched Han's outfit. The stage lights were blinding, but you pushed through the nerves.

The music started, and you gave it your all. Singing loudly and pouring all your energy into your dance moves, you felt the adrenaline rush through your veins. The crowd's cheers and screams were deafening, and that only fueled your determination. The energy in the venue was incredible, and it was a testament to the love and support of your fans.

As the performance reached its climax, you executed the choreography flawlessly, ending with a dramatic head tilt before turning your back to the audience. You were out of breath but exhilarated. It was a performance to remember, and the applause and cheers from the audience were music to your ears.

You resisted the urge to turn around and gauge the audience's reactions. Instead, you noticed Seungmin doing the same. Smiles exchanged between the two of you, a shared moment of pride and satisfaction. You both walked off the stage with the rest of the boys, following the well-rehearsed exit routine.

Despite the exhaustion, you felt a sense of accomplishment and euphoria. The performance had been tiring, but it had been worth it. The rush of being on stage, sharing your music with the world, and feeling the love from your fans was an experience like no other. You couldn't help but love every moment of it. The car ride home was gonna be fun.

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

Taglist: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-lee08 @sungiesoonie @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @staygirl86 @chlodavids

If you wanna be added click here :)

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Some recent discussions I’ve seen about EPIC: The Musical, The Trials of Apollo, and Greek Mythology itself have prompted me to make this post.

With me, at least, when I’m talking about one of the Greek gods, I’m talking about them as they are portrayed in a specific thing.

It’s the same in my fanfics— I would not portray mythology Apollo the way I do ToA Apollo, and vice versa.

A good example of this I think would be my Marsyas fic. In it, I do not have Apollo flay him, because that makes more sense in the rrverse world. If I was going purely on the myths though? I would have had him go through with it. And have a crisis about it. Because that’s what happens.

I just wanted to put it out there that there are people capable of keeping different depictions of the gods separate from the myths. I felt the need to come out and say this, because I don’t want people thinking that my favorite media’s fandom (ToA) ignores/misportrays the myths. We are very aware of what is ToA and what is myth, and I want to set that straight.

Plus, I think it’s worth mentioning that some people in the ToA fandom connect so deeply with it because of the themes of change and the cycle of abuse. And for that to work, the gods have to be more dysfunctional than they are in the myths. It wouldn’t hit as hard if they weren’t.

idk. I just feel like there’s some layer of…hm, instinctual dislike towards fandoms of medias with Greek myth inspiration, because of certain inaccuracies and how that consequently reflects on the myths.

And I didn’t really like seeing that directed at ToA’s fandom, where we have fun discussing the differences between the rrverse and mythology and do in fact keep them separate. I’d argue the ToA fandom’s the most informed on the Greek myths in the wider rrverse fandom because we’re actually interested in the gods. Many have read the myths, or are reading them, like myself! We are educating ourselves on the mythology! And when we find something that has an interesting vision because of ToA’s context? We incorporate it into the setting of the rrverse. But we do not treat that vision as mythology canon.

A very good example of this is Zeus and Apollo’s relationship in ToA. It’s a stark contrast to the myths. I get why people wouldn’t be a fan of that. I like learning about their mythological relationship myself! I love the Greek myth soap opera. I love the Greek gods. I don’t know why someone would be into the mythology without liking the gods.

But I also feel like there needs to be an understanding that how the gods are portrayed in fictional stories are not always intended to be accurate. There are creators out there who treat their retellings as gospel truth, and that is definitely annoying, but there are others who just want to tell a story— and that’s what ToA is. A story. It’s essentially an AU of Greek mythology where Zeus succumbs to paranoia about the cycle. That’s how I see it.

It’s not accurate to the myths, because it’s not meant to be— it’s meant to tell a story, not retell one.

I’m beating a dead horse here because I’ve talked about this specific thing before. But yeah.

Just something I wanted to clear up with the mythology side of tumblr.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

The Hollow Beast

@things-arent-what-they-seem66, here's that post-partum Adam au we talked about! Hope your prepared for some pretty heavy angst.

(This is just a warning for anyone who has suffered post-partum there can be a few scenes in this where it could be triggering for some readers so if that's not for you then you should probably steer clear of this, other than that enjoy readers)

An ear-piercing scream jolted Adam awakes. As it had been for the past month and a half. He groaned before turning to shake his husband awake.

Adam: Luci, Luci please get up for once.

All he received was a snore from the left side of the bed. Adam sighed heavily as he pinched his nose in frustration. He wanted to simply ignore the screaming creature in the cradle by the foot of the bed but and go back to sleep but knew it would be in vain. So slowly but surely, he made his way out of the bed and walked over to the cradle that held the little screaming beast he called son. Damien, their recent child had not only been the most difficult of their children as an infant but had also been a nightmare of a pregnancy.

Adam was constantly sick all the way to the end, his back hurt all the time, and he was even put on bed rest during the sixth month of pregnancy. The birth itself was horrible to say the least. Their son was a twenty-seven-hour labor where eventually Belphegor had to perform a C-section. But it was all worth it when their son was safely delivered into their arms, with only a few minor health issues.

Or at least that's Adam kept telling himself.

Lately he has been feeling the strain with not only one baby who was endlessly crying whether that be day or night but two. His second oldest daughter Eden was two years old, that meant she was at that stage of the terrible two's. Let him tell you was not an easy stage. Her tantrums were incessant, and she constantly wanted to be near her mama, while he was dealing with Damien. His other toddler Mallum, who was four, wasn't so bad besides him constantly running around bothering anyone who would look in his direction to play with him.

Especially his father, Lucifer who stated that he was all so busy nowadays performing his kingly duties. Apparently so much so that he couldn't perform a single act of his fatherly duties or even his marital duties. But that was neither here nor there, Adam simply focused his attention on his baby who after a whole damn hour he managed to somehow get him to sleep. Gently as he could he placed his son back down and quietly crept back into bed. He rests his eyes for a single moment before he felt Lucifer rustle against him and felt him laying on top of him. He opened his eyes and groaned internally when he saw a very familiar look inside those yellow, red orbs

Lucifer: Hey, you awake Beautiful?

[tightjeansjavi]

♡ Barbie Girl ♡ | AU!Joel Miller x f! Reader

A/N: this was such a fun lil idea to pursue and I love the idea of Joel wearing pink just cause he knows how happy it makes Sarah ♡

~word count: 1.5k~

Summary: Joel, Sarah and Tommy go to the Barbie movie opening weekend

Warnings: none, lots of fluff, Joel is a feminist icon, soft dad vibes, Joel is a girl dad himbo, he’ll do anything to make his kid happy, Sarah is an icon on her own, Tommy is Tommy of course but he’s so himbo too, AU that takes place in 2023, Joel is a progressive dad, Sarah loves him for it, little bit of flirting with Joel and the reader, no age gap, some spoilers for the Barbie movie! (+18 for language) minors dni.

July 2023, Austin Texas

Joel Miller never would consider himself to be a ‘girl dad’ as the younger generation would refer to him as. He had to literally look up what the word ‘DILF’ meant when Sarah told him one day after school that all of the moms thought he was attractive. He had Google on speed dial just so he could feel like he was ‘hip’ again. 36 years old and he felt older than ever. Sarah was a big help of course and steered her dad in the right direction political wise. Her dad was a good man of course, but nothing made her happier than when she had his full support as a young woman. Before the Barbie movie came out, Joel and Sarah spent every weekend volunteering at a local women’s shelter. The bumper of his truck was decorated with women-empowering stickers including a sticker that said, ‘Abortion is Healthcare’ and ‘Women’s Rights Are Human Rights.’ He didn’t stop there of course. He also had a BLM sticker, ‘Dismantle White Supremacy’, ‘Eat The Rich’ and he still had a Bernie sticker front and center.

The weekend that the Barbie movie came out, Joel had already pre ordered tickets for him, Sarah and Tommy as well who had multiple pink shirts for Joel to choose from. Sarah had insisted that they all had to wear pink and Joel would do just about anything to make his baby girl happy.

“Are ya sure your old man doesn’t look silly in this?” Joel gestured to his hot pink tee-shirt with a soft huff as he observed his appearance in the mirror.

“Dad, why do you think you look silly? Pink is totally your color!” Sarah responded with a genuine smile as she playfully placed the Barbie baseball cap on his mess of brown curls. “Do you or do you not feel Bonita?”

Joel stifled a chuckle, shaking his head as he fixed the cap on his head. “I feel Bonita.”

The drive to the movie theater consisted of listening to a Barbie inspired Spotify playlist off of Sarah’s phone. Joel and Tommy proudly knew every word to the Barbie Girl song of course. Once they arrived to the theater, Joel was awe-struck at the amount of people who were dressed in pink and he felt less self-conscious about his hot pink shirt when he saw numerous guys and dads wearing pink shirts as well.

At first he was confused when a group of women around his age said, “Hi Ken” to him and Tommy, and “Hi Barbie” to Sarah who immediately responded with a wave and, “Hi Barbie!” She gently nudged her dad with her elbow as he stood there blinking, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Dad, you gotta say hi Barbie! Back.”

“Oh. OH! Shit, sorry sweet pea.” He cleared his throat under his breath before he raised his hand with a sheepish smile. “Hi Barbie!” He was looking right at you out of all of your friends. You were dressed head to toe in pink and you mirrored the same sheepish smile that he did. Joel turned to his daughter afterwards, cheeks feeling inflamed. “Did I do alright? So, I say that everytime someone says hi Ken?”

“You did great, dad! Yeah, so everytime a Barbie says, ‘hi Ken!’ You say, ‘hi Barbie!’, and when a Ken says, ‘hi Ken!’ You say, ‘hi Ken!’”

“Yeah, brother. It ain’t that hard.” Tommy chimed in and wrapped his arm around Joel’s shoulders and gave them a light squeeze.

“Shuddup Tommy.” Joel grumbled under his breath.

Your friends from your college days insisted that you join them to go see the new Barbie movie. At first you were against the idea until you read reviews and once you saw it was a movie that empowered women, you were all in. It was your idea in the end to dress head to toe in pink and you and your friends each had a comfort Barbie in your purses as well.

When you saw Joel Miller across the way looking confused as all hell when your friends said ‘hi Ken!’ You thought he was adorable for two reasons. One being he clearly was wearing pink to support his daughter and two, he looked proud of himself after saying ‘hi Barbie!’ To you and your friends.

“Now, that’s a real man if I’ve ever seen one!” Your one friend, Jessica excitedly whispered to the group as if she was back in her highschool days in the passing period hallways.

“Okay, but his brother? Jesus Christ, if I wasn’t married I would be all over that!” Avery chimed in with a giggle.

“How do you know that they’re brothers? They could be two dads taking their daughter to the movies.” You responded with a shrug as you pulled up the tickets on your phone.

“Nah, they look related and besides, the one with the baseball cap was looking right at you babe!” Jaimie commented with a small grin as she nudged your side gently.

“No, he wasn’t.” You responded with a light laugh and shake of your head.

“Girl, he looked like a blubbering fish when he saw you.” Your friends all affirmed.

Your friends were right on the money with that one. Joel Miller was doing his absolute best to check you out in the most respectful way he could while he was in the line for popcorn. Sarah of course caught the way her dad was looking at you, and she was determined to get him to muster up the courage to talk to you after the movie.

The movie was everything Sarah had imagined it to be. She laughed, she cried and Joel and Tommy had teared up during some of the scenes. Especially when Barbie and Ken travel to the real world and the first thing she experiences is being cat-called and objectified by men. The patriarchy was alive and well outside of Barbie land and as a straight man, Joel recognized that he and Tommy had an easy life compared to their female counterparts. This didn’t mean that they agreed with it. In fact, Joel and Tommy were fully against the patriarchal system.

Sarah found herself hugging her dad tightly as the credits rolled and he was gently smoothing down her curls and kissing the top of her head. Sometimes Joel felt guilty over the fact that Sarah no longer had a mother figure in her life, but it was moments like these that reminded him that he was just a dad doing his best for his kid who he loved so dearly. “I love you so much, baby girl. I’ll always fight for you. Okay, kiddo?” He whispered softly with his lips against her temple.

Sarah hugged him tighter. “I love you so much dad. Thank you for always being there for me.”

Tommy was tearing up again.

The three Millers took a selfie with the Barbie poster just outside the movie theater with their faces squished into the frame. The picture was being taken while you were standing outside of the women’s bathroom waiting for your friends. You watched as Joel struggled to get his phone at the right angle, so you took it upon yourself to go over and help. “Hi Kens, hi Barbie! Would you guys like me to take a picture of you?”

Joel already felt his cheeks begin to heat up. “Hi Barbie. That would be great if ya could. Can never get these damn angles right with this thing. I uh—I like your outfit. It’s very Barbie.” He commented softly.

“Thanks, Ken. I really like your baseball cap.” You responded with a genuine smile as he handed you his phone. You took a few steps back so that all three Miller’s would be in the frame. You took a few photos before handing him his phone back just as your friends were departing from the bathroom.

“Hey, Barbie? Before you go, my dad is way too shy to say it but he thinks you’re super duper pretty.” Sarah proclaimed without skipping a beat.

Joel was beet red now as he scrubbed a hand down his face, fingertips scraping across his beard. “Sarah! You can’t just—” He sighed with a nervous smile. “Okay, it’s true Barbie. I do think you’re super duper pretty. Cats out of the bag thanks to my daughter.” He gave Sarah a playful warning look and mussed up her curls.

“Well Ken, it’s your lucky day because I think you’re really handsome. Do you wanna see Oppenheimer with me next weekend?”

“I would absolutely love to go see Oppenheimer with you next weekend Barbie.” Joel didn’t hesitate to respond.

“It’s a date. See you next weekend, Ken.” You exchanged phone numbers before you made your way over to your friends who were waiting for you.

“This Barbie has a date next weekend!” You told your friends the good news and they all excitedly cheered for you.

As soon as Joel and Sarah got home, Sarah dug out her old box of Barbie’s and brought them down to the living room, while Joel had found all of the Barbie DVD’s that Sarah insisted he keep. They spent the rest of the evening playing with her Barbie’s and watching the Princess and the Pauper; Sarah’s all time favorite Barbie movie.

Tag list: @chaotic-mystery @saradika @cavillscurls @thetriumphantpanda @sinsofsummers @morning-star-joy @cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42 @last-girl @tessa-quayle (you will love this one)

Creator divider made by @saradika

Barbie divider made by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[midnight-mourning]

Sending a couple request ideas!!

Mayhaps some sharing Christmas with the merbois, giving them presents (maybe some mistletoe smooches)

Or alternatively! An au of your choice where the bois see snow for the first time :0

Fishy Traditions

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 28❄️❄️

back at it again with ANOTHER mer au (making this my second mer fic ever, yippee), enjoyed writing this one as well, hope you all like it too ^-^

Prompt: See Above

Word Count: 1502

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Put more over here, Sunbeam!" Sun calls out to you. "And here, and here, and here!"

You laugh, but oblige him, heading over to the sections of the cave he directed you towards, bundles of holiday greenery in your hands. "Okay, okay. I'm on my way."

You'd considered other, brighter decorations, but you worried about things that were artificial potentially harming either mer. There was also the concern of them trying to eat it, given they've attempted such with things like your phone before. You wouldn't outright say you didn't trust them but... you were certainly thinking it. 

So, you settled on what you were assuming—hoping—were mer-safe decorations. Things like fir boughs, mini Christmas trees, and of course, mistletoe. You hadn't told them the significance of that last one yet, you think they might go a little crazy over it and you want the place to be decorated before that happens. 

Moon tsks as Sun points to other spots for you to set things. "You're going to crowd the place and then it won't look good anymore. And all their hard work will be for naught."

"I'm not doing anything of the sort! You're just jealous I have a better understanding of this holiday than you." Sun sticks his tongue out at the other mer, who growls in response. 

You turn around to continue hanging things up, laughing at the two of them. When a wave of water hits you in the back. You jump, turning around in time to watch the two of them wrestle in the water, bickering about who's right and who's wrong. 

You clear your throat loudly and the stop, looking over to you as you turn around and point to your back. "Let's settle down now, yeah?"

Mumbling apologies, they separate, but not before grumbling and shoving each other at least one more time. 

You shake your head, sighing as you trudge over to a rock and sit down, having to remove your jacket and shirt to change. Luckily, you'd been planning to stay the night with them, so you could celebrate the following morning. Therefore, you had pajamas to change into, laying your wet clothes out to dry. Now the only issue was making sure you stayed dried the rest of the evening. A daunting task in and of itself. 

Once you're settled, you get back to it, finishing up decorating their cave a little bit after that. All that was left was to decorate the tree, with fish-safe ornaments or course. 

This meant two options really, candy canes and strings of popcorn. Both of which had your mers eyeing the tree hungrily. Maybe you should have left it bare after all. 

"You can't eat the decorations." You scold, swatting Sun's reaching claw away from the tree's base. "At least wait until tomorrow, anyway."

"But I know they'll taste so good." Sun whines, making grabby hands for a low-hanging candy cane. "Just a nibble! You won't even notice!"

You laugh, using both hands now to push back against his forehead. "No, then you'll want more, and more, and then we'll have a sad looking tree!"

"Sunshine I'm starving. Please, I'm going to wither away here." Sun's hands grip your wrists, pouting as he looks up to you. 

You huff. "We literally just ate dinner!"

Finally, you have no choice but to relent. Tossing not one, but both of them a candy cane to quiet their begging. 

You almost don't want to put their presents under the tree, knowing it won't end well for you. 

However, you think you're able to distract them with explaining more of your traditions. Keeping your gifts safe in the meantime. 

"And as a kid, we'd go drive all throughout the neighborhood to look at the lights. I always ended up falling asleep before we made it home." You're lying on your stomach, facing the water, as you explain to them. 

"I still don't understand these 'cars' you talk about, but that sounds similar to how we'd stargaze during winter migration." Moon's floating on his back, gaze unfocused as he reminisces. "The sky always seemed clearer in the colder months, brighter."

"You always fell asleep earlier, you missed all the good parts." Sun snickers. He's closer to you, holding your hand and snuggling it against his head as he rests against the pool's edge. 

You divert that argument before it can start, snapping your fingers on your unoccupied hand. "Oh! I haven't even told you one of the best ones." You reach behind yourself, grabbing a little bundle of mistletoe you had left over. "You see this herb?"

They both nod, heads tilting as they watch you curiously. 

It makes you laugh as you scootch closer to Sun and once you do, you lift the mistletoe above the two of you, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

You pull away after a moment, grinning. "When two people meet under mistletoe, they're supposed to kiss. It's like a cute way to—hey!"

Sun snatches the mistletoe from you, now holding it up himself as he starts to pepper your face with kisses. You start laughing and putting your hand up to get him to stop but it does nothing. All of the sudden he's stopped, and looking up you see that Moon's dragged him under the water. You push yourself up into a sitting position and watch the two of them fight under the water. 

Suddenly, Moon emerges and swims over to you, grin sharp as he holds the soaking wet herb above his head. 

You roll your eyes, and give him a quick kiss. "You act as if I'm not going to be fair."

"Best not to take any chances, Star." He snickers, kissing you several more times before Sun gets revenge, dragging him back under the water. 

By the time they're done the mistletoe is unrecognizable. And to settle things you have to give them each their own bundle so to stop their arguing. 

After that, it becomes a game for them of who can get more kisses with you in the shortest amount of time. It gets to the point you have to back away from the water's edge to catch a breather. You're reveling in the attention, but damn. 

Finally, after sharing more traditions in the form of singing carols and telling stories, you start to tire out. You're ready to curl up in your sleeping bag and go to sleep, when you're suddenly surrounded on all sides by mers. 

"You two cannot be out of water for eight hours." You protest. "It's not safe!"

Sun flicks his tails and you hear a small splash. "We're partly in, that's enough."

"Besides, we at least want to give you your gift up close." Moon says, and shifting presents you a package wrapped with dry seaweed. 

You sit up slightly, taking the gift into your hands. "Oh, you guys didn't have to get me anything."

"Of course we did!"

"You got something for us."

You shake your head. "Still, thank you."

"Go on, open it!" Sun encourages. "We think you're really going to like it."

"We do, at least."

Sun hushes the other mer, hiding his face for a moment as Moon snickers. 

You're not sure what it means, and let it go as you unwrap your present. 

Lying inside is a beautiful necklace, consisting of tiny shells and little glass beads. Sea glass, you recognize. The center charm is a small sand dollar, with a sun and moon carved into it. Looking closer, you can see writing in their language. If you remember correctly at least part of the inscription includes their names. 

"Guys, this is, incredible." You rub your thumb over the carvings. 

"We wanted something that suited you best, compared to the typical choices."

You aren't sure what he means by that, but you don't get to ask as Sun rests his head on your shoulder, eager. "So you like it? You really really like it?"

"It's beautiful. I love it. Help me put it on, yeah?" You hold it out, and they take it, putting it around your neck together. 

Once it's done you reach up, adjusting it so the main charm rests properly. 

"Well, how's it look?" You ask. 

"Amazing."

"Just like you."

You feel heat briefly rush to your face. "Thank you."

You give them each a quick kiss, then settle back in their hold, content to fall asleep then and there. 

"So, can we open our presents now?"

You crack an eye open, frowning. "You've got to be kidding me."

"It's only fair, Starlight." Moon argues. 

You sigh. "And I was just about to fall asleep. Alright, fair's fair."

You haven't even got the words out before they're reaching over, shredding open the packaging to see their gifts. The chaos of it makes you laugh, and you bask in their excitement and joy at the presents, clutching your own gift in your grip. 

It's a Christmas to remember, that's for sure.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the request @baby-bloos! Twas a fun one to do esp since it gives me the chance to take another crack at mer things :)

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