#and sung with passion over and over

[dollfat]

[fastandcarlos]

All Your Little Things : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: imagine being able to date the perfect gentleman, well that's exactly what you get being the one in a relationship with max

To say he was protective of you was an understatement, there was no greater job for Max than the job of taking care of you, with all of the little things he did for you. 

It was the things that you never paid attention to, the little habits that he had picked up over the years that came naturally to him, without even having to think Max’s body guided him to those spots where he could look after you. 

As you walked out of your apartment onto the streets of Monaco, hands landed on your shoulders and moved you from one side of the pavement to the other. Max smiled back at you as he slipped his hand in with yours, much more comfortable on the side by the cars instead. 

“They’ll hit me first,” he simply smiled as you looked at him questionably. 

“Hopefully that doesn’t happen.” 

“Well, if it does, I’m here to make sure you’re safe,” Max responded, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

Once you got to the restaurant that you were eating at, Max led you to one side, taking a step forwards so that he could be the one to open up the door for you too.  

“I got it,” Max grinned as you looked back at him, sending him a glance as if to remind him that you were more than capable of opening up a door for yourself. 

The pride in his expression though brought a smile to your own face too, allowing Max to hold onto your hand and lead you to the table that you always sat at. 

“For you,” he spoke, pulling your chair out from underneath the table for you. 

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, taking your seat as Max tucked you in. 

“Only for you,” he sung, kissing the top of your head once again before moving around the table and taking a seat opposite you. 

“I don’t think Lando would like to hear you say that,” you chuckled, taking the menu that Max held out for you to read. 

“Trust me, Lando doesn’t compare to you.” 

As you sat to your meal, Max listened intently to every single word that you had to say. Admittedly, you were talking a little bit of nonsense, but Max still listened, nodding to show you he was there, interrupting every so often when he wanted to add a little nugget of advice. 

It was something of nothing for him, after all he loved listening to your voice and the passion that you had as you spoke. But for you, it was nice to feel as if you were heard, having spent so many years feeling as if you were talking to yourself, now every word was held onto by Max. 

You couldn’t have wished for more for your evening, even as the cheque came, a hand grabbed it before you could take a look. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, watching Max pull out his card from his wallet, “you know what I’m going to tell you Verstappen.” 

“And you know what I’m going to tell you,” he smugly replied, swatting your hand when you went to reach for your bag from under the table, refusing to let you get your purse and pay towards your meal. 

Max’s head shook, “this is my treat, I want to pay for this tonight,” he told you, handing his card across as the waitress came back over to your table. 

If he had it his way, Max would pay for you every night, he loved spoiling you and treating you whenever he could. Of course, you always tried to protest but Max would never listen, he didn’t care about the cost or what you’d been up to, he wanted it to be on him. 

“Thank you,” you told him as the waitress walked away, offering him a wide smile. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Max assured you, placing his card away safely into his wallet. 

“I do, you didn’t have to do that,” you noted, standing up from your chair, heading out of the restaurant. 

Your body tensed up as soon as you walked out into the cold air, but before you could even say anything, a jacket was draped over your shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, Max saw you shiver, immediately taking his jacket off deciding it was better use around you instead. His hand helped onto yours tightly, trying to keep you as warm as possible as you walked. 

As you got to the corner, where your apartments split, you came to a stop, leaving Max slightly ahead of you. “Where are you going?” You asked him, brows knitting together. 

“I’m walking you home, where do you think I’m going?” Max responded, staring back at you as if the answer was obvious. The stars were out and there was a bitterness in the air, there was no way that Max was ever going to let you walk home by yourself. 

Before you could reply, he took your hand and carried on walking beside you, listening to your ramblings next to him. He knew the way to your apartment like the back of his hand, once again keeping you away from the traffic as he made sure you got home safe. 

Max came with you all the way into your apartment block, up the elevator and to the front door. You knew he wasn’t expecting to come in, all he wanted was to see for himself you going through that front door so that he could go home and make sure nothing could hurt you. 

When you opened the door, you spun on your heels to face him, unable to hide the smile that was on your face. “Thank you for being such a gent tonight,” you told him. 

The corners of Max’s smile turned up, “I wasn’t doing anything, just being a good boyfriend,” he mused, unaware of all those little things that you’d spotted throughout the night. 

You knew that Max was never going to take the credit, even if he was aware of how well he treated you. He didn’t need appreciation for it because it was just him, it was what he did, it was because of how strongly he felt about you that made it all come naturally to him.  

“You have to call me when you get home,” you told Max, passing his coat back to him to keep him warm on his journey home. 

He raised an eyebrow back at him, “that’s the sort of thing that I say to you, you can’t start stealing my lines.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because that’s what I say to look after you,” he chuckled, watching as your head shook back in reply to him. 

You leant your head against the door frame, “I’m allowed to look after you too. A world-famous driver walking the busy streets of Monaco, who knows what might happen.” 

“I reckon I might be alright,” Max grinned, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss to your forehead before stepping further away from your door. He could feel your eyes narrowing on him, unable to hide his smile. 

“Call me,” you shouted as he walked around the corner, out of sight and heading for home. 

You could hear him scoff as he disappeared, knowing exactly what Max was like. However, for all the little things he did for you, you wanted to do the exact same thing for him too. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋���𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[convoy914]

Regarding CrunchyRoll: I think both approaches have their risks and benefits. There ARE still people working on it and will work on it who would suffer, but betrayal tends to hurt the worst and Rooster Teeth is still terrible even if they’re only getting the scraps

[hiddenreamers]

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

[radiance1]

Tim, officially, does not have a new caretaker.

Tim, unofficially, does have a new caretaker.

A large, large man with long flaming purple hair that was capable of touching the floor if it didn't move like fire with sharp glowing green eyes and a neutral, if a bit of a resting bitch face, expression on his face.

Comparatively, he was not dressed oddly. Nothing but a white compression shirt, grey sweatpants and a pair of black sandals. The only thing odd about it was the sword constantly strapped to his waist, though Tim ignored it when he saw the man using it to chop ingredients.

Fright, he called himself, and Tim never asked if it was his actual name or not. He was just glad someone came over as constantly as he does.

He doesn't know where the man goes at night, after making sure he's tucked into bed and asleep, but he never pried. Mostly because he wasn't supposed to know that, and he doesn't want Fright to catch onto the fact that he was constantly sneaking out at night either.

So they'll both keep their secrets.

===

Fright Knight was at a loss with himself.

His master, Pariah Dark, had been once again released from the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep and he wasted no time to return to his side. Even with his previous betrayl.

The events that followed were unexpected.

His master did not continue his eons long war with life. Though it had long since turned silent with his imprisonment, it was still brewing under the current of 'peace' that the Ghost Zone fell into.

Fright Knight knew that well.

So, what exactly was he supposed to do when his master returned to his time as naught but a humble farmer and started to rebuild the bridge he had long burnt with the Master of Time?

He felt... conflicted.

Of course, reconnecting with the Ghost of Time was a good thing, and he has been subject to witness just how much passion they had for each other during days long past.

But his master picking up a life that was not one honed through blood was always an odd thing for him to experience. Two peas in a pod, as some would say they were.

War and Fear.

Where War went, Fear followed. Rivers of flowing blood with storms of fear promised was something too tempting for him to resist.

Fear was a sword, and he was War's blade.

So it was not something easy for him to adjust to when War settled down into peace and sought prosperity instead of his namesake. Of course, he, as always, adjusted regardless of the situation and followed his master in his newest endeavor.

It was much harder to preserve a life, than it was to end it. They both came to realize. On his master's part, farming was something he pondered over and donned for a brief time eons ago, the new methods of today clashing wildly with what little he knew of the activity before War sung to him again. For Fright Knight, he had not a single nail's worth of experience in the act, never having had an interest like War did and as such, never learned.

It felt rather odd to use his blade to cut gifts from the land, but if he replaced them with images of enemies long since snuffed, it wasn't exactly hard.

He could not stay there for long; however, it was just too... different, from what he was used to. The Ghost King knew this and told him he was free to be left to his own devices so long as it did not affect the rules the Master of Time had set for them.

Or rather, War. But as Fear was in his service, he was not exactly exempt from said constraints, either.

So he wandered, keeping to his 'human' persona he was told to set for himself here. He was thankful that these beings called Meta's existed as no one gave him more than a second glance.

Though if that was more something to do with his height he did not know.

He came upon a city, one of shadows and filled with curses in numbers that even made him pause in slight bafflement. Lady Gotham, the city's spirit, brushed against him as soon as he stepped foot within her haunt, and it did not take long for them to reach and accord.

Fear was allowed to stay, so long as he did not do anything she did not permit. He was fine with said rules, after all, what was another constraint compared to those set by Time itself?

He had a favorable view of this city, just the ambient fear alone made it worth stepping inside. It was better than War's attempt at peace, though it was nothing due to the being itself he was just... used to being surrounded by fear.

Then he met a human child by the name of Timothy Drake. A meeting by chance and nothing else, but he did need something to do by Lady Gotham's suggestion.

So he became the boy's 'caretaker' though if he were a good one was something he could not comment on.

He did not need sleep, his new ward did, so when night fell, he always stepped out of the city to go back to his master and reappeared the next morning.

The thing about his new master's attempt at peace, was that he was quite willing to give away the gifts he received from the land. Which was helpful, considering he had no idea how to acquire money in this new age.

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Isekaid! Artist! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 044 ✦ ┆・

[Tw: I think this fall under depictions of depression and panic attacks. Please, if you're not in the headspace, do not read this. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Muse] ¡! ❞

Isekaing to Solo Leveling is one thing, but living in this world is just... Way too brutal for your poor heart.

Why is that? Anxiety is a major enemy.

What do you mean everyone else is living normally not having little paranoid moments that lead to panic attacks with overtaking at the possibility of a gate opening somewhere near you and monsters would come out?

Sung Jinah's school wasn't even safe. How are you gonna live?

Anyway.

You have a job to do.

Even though you just wanna spend all of your time crying in the corner of your room and praying to god to protect you when technically you aren't even religious.

But what are you to do?

It's not like Sung Jinwoo will swoop in and save you from misery.

...Hahah, if only.

You are one of his more delulu fans, like every other girl in this country— You are a big fan.

Well, except the fact that you know far more things about Jinwoo since you came from a world where he is fiction.

The flex you have is that you know how awfully adorable that petty bastard is when he was still an E-ranker. Those Jinwoo simps will never know the fact that Jinwoo has the fluffiest and softest looking cheeks ever.

Not to mention, you have all of his powers memorized to even the titles those powers have. You can name a lot of his shadows.

Of course the easiest to name are Beru, Igris, Bellion, Kaisel, Tank,.... And the easiest,... One, two, three, four.... Yeah, you get it.

But why are you being so smug? As if you 're not the same fool who secretly buys Jinwoo polaroids. Coming from this country full of fangirls is a haven for you since there is quite... The plethora of Jinwoo trinkets.

And you, being a lovestruck fool, went all in and took "Take all my money" to the next level even though the man you're obsessing over is 10x more richer than you.

But ah, this isn't the time to fawn over your Jinwoo merch paradise.

You have work.

Thankfully enough, this world has given you mercy. Despite it preying on your paranoid self, it gave you the blessing of living the life you've always wanted.

And that is to be a freelance artist.

Not doing your average 9-5, crying about the lack of fame you receive that hinders the pathway to making a successful art career, not having to listen to family members berating your love for art as low as a drug abuse.

In this world, no one is going off about your craft, no one is belittling your passion to something akin to a crime.

Like it's just a pathetic hobby and there's no meaning to all the hard work you put in the past years improving your skills, there's no value to being able to draw squares and circles more impressive than others, there's nothing note worthy of being able to pick and choose colours— There's none of that.

To be honest, there was even lots of moments where you wanted to give up, where you realized maybe they're right.

Even if you had starved yourself just to save up for your art materials, even if you work hard micro-analyzing your artstyle, even if you spent hours studying the algorithms, even if you shed blood sweat and tears just for the glimmer of hope that maybe you can turn your art into something more— It's all just delusions.

Like how you hope to be one of those big artists who inspire other people to create their own pieces. Like how you secretly hope that maybe your artworks can bring a smile to anyone's face if they come across it. Like how you silently pray to every single star that may your wish come true.

You wanted to keep hoping, for the slim chance of having a single magnus opus that will instantly put you in the limelight— You wanted to keep having your hand outstretched to that tiny light.

But everyday, with each piece, you start to realize that your dreams are all for nothing.

You had been so focused on art that it's the only thing you have that defines who you are as a person and as an individual.

Art is what made you human.

Slowly, your innocent dreams molded itself into a twisted and vile poison that ate you from the inside out. Your love for creating backfired and now it's a blur if your passion stems from adoration or you just ran with it because it's the only thing that made you feel relevant in this world.

Maybe you should give up.

Even if there is a drastic improvement in your art with each piece, what good is it if it can't guarantee that career you oh so desperately want? The big artists say that you should make art for yourself, well yeah, they're right. But what if even if you do that it doesn't work?

Colour theory, shape language, line language, composition— All of those improved out of sheer love to learn. You've seen other people around you get careers out of it so it will happen to you?

Right?...

Right?

You're not a problematic artist, you don't make trouble, you don't make enemies, you don't participate in drama, you stay humble and eloquent.

Surely it will work... Right?...

Hahah.

In that world?

No it didn't.

It did not.

You died in your deathbed after being involved in a hit and run.

And after a long period of slumber, you have awoken in this world where somehow you are a renowned artist.

It felt shallow, really.

Suddenly having all of that in a snap of a finger through death?

Hah.

It felt like it mirrors Jinwoo's life. Except he had rightfully earned the flory of his powers.

Truthfully, you love him because of that.

What was it?

Ah yes.

"Because I was rock bottom, I longed for the highest peak."

That was the line that made you love him.

As someone who had no future in your art career, it was that line that made your heart yearn for him.

Two unfortunate souls who struggle in the same thing in different dimensions, except one managed to create that dream into reality.

Sure, you have the glory now. And although it made you so happy, it still felt so shallow because you didn't achieve this through hardwork. You just had to die.

You had to be dead.

It took dying to be given the mercy of having your dreams be granted.

And that just made you feel so... So awful.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

With a canvas on one hand, your painting materials neatly arranged in a bag in the other hand— You take a deep breath and enter the party.

Brilliant golden lights twinkle above your head coming from the magnificent chandelier hanging above. Cameras flashing, the clinking of glasses as hunters and celebrities discussed amongst themselves dressed in luxurious outfits and blinging jewelry.

The sight made your stomach sink and a lump in your throat forming.

This is an entirely different world you knew from the lonely greys and blues.

You look around frantically, almost panicking at the overwhelming chatter and blinding lights.

"Ah, you're here" A voice snaps you out of it.

You turn to see your sponsor, Choi Jong-in flashing a polite and handsome smile. You bow your head politely.

"Please," Jong-in simply shakes his head, "No need to be so polite. I am pleased that you have arrived in time. Champagne?"

He extends a glass towards you and you shake your head, sheepishly saying "O-oh... I'm not really an alcohol enjoyer. I'm fine."

"Ah, I see" He nods apologetically before gesturing you to a clearer space.

Jong-in escorts you to a less crowded area of the ball, the lessened crowd and noise calming your accelerated heartbeat down.

"If there is anything you need, please feel free to call me or the waiters" He says kindly, "You are also free to eat food."

"Thank you, Mr. Choi" You bow politely.

Before he could even reply, Jong-in was called over by a beautiful blonde girl you knew all too well.

Cha Hae-in.

She's as lovely as she was in the manhwa panels, with that red dress and her neatly tied hair— She was a sight to behold.

But as soon as you see a tall man clad in black, you feel a distinct thump in your heart, a twisting kind of small pain that made you feel like it stopped beating along with the way your lungs stopped breathing— You knew who it was.

"A guest?..." He inquires, making your heart thump even harder at the sound of that deep voice you only heard through the speakers of your phone and laptop.

"Mr. Sung, I'm glad you could make it along with my vice master" Jong-in hums, "This is an artist I'm sponsoring, I thought it would be a good idea to commemorate this important event celebrating humanity's win against the gates"

"Ah, I see" Jinwoo's handsome grey eyes would sweep onto your anxious form who is fidgeting uncontrollably in her hands. "I'm Sung Jinwoo,"

He extends a hand, making you look up at him with an even nervous look. It took you a while to extend your hand, and the moment your palm touched his— You felt as of you're touching someone from a different species. Something too unreal and dovine.

You barely had even managed to speak your name out with how much of a nervous wreck you are. Shaking his hand didn't happen if it weren't for Jinwoo gently doing it and letting you pull your hand away.

Your palms may have been trembling, but now it's even more erratic as you step back, not meeting his gaze.

Thank gods Jong-in decided to start a conversation to pivot Jinwoo's attention away from you.

As you attempt to calm yourself with a persistent panic attack, you feel a soft tap on your hands.

"Thank you for coming, I-I hope you enjoy your time" Hae-in says in her hesitant voice.

And you, who cant mutter a single word after your very first encounter with Jinwoo— Only muster a polite nod at her as she turns away to join Jong-in and Jinwoo in their conversation.

You were on a trance for almost five minutes, before finally deciding to set up your easel and canvas. You took out two different mason jars and filling them up with water; the gouache paint you will be using as a medium; the ceramic palette you have been using for quite a while now; and finally gently arranging your brushes.

Jong-in didn't specify what you should be painting for this event. But decided to paint the stage. An hour into the event, Jinwoo would start giving his speech as he is the main hero of the war against the gates and monarchs—As well as the person this whole event is dedicated to.

You had to pause in your process of painting the canvas, just to give respect to Jinwoo.

Your idol.

Your role model.

The man of your dreams.

His words aren't even registering as you can't help but be lost in a trance as he continues with his speech. Unconsciously, your hand raised itself and started to paint carefully, your eyes fixated on the hunter as your hand moved with a mind on its own.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jong-in was extremely worried for the artist he had hired, he could tell from earlier she was having a panic attack with the hesitance. And when Jinwoo came into the picture, it seemed to frighten her all the more. He quietly called for his secretary to add at least 40% more of the initial payment that was planned to compensate for the unintentional distress he had put her onto.

While Jinwoo was giving his speech, he couldn't help but check on her by glancing from the distance.

In that canvas, he saw the stage, and in that stage was Jinwoo.

The artist was carefully painting Jinwoo.

Delicate strokes despite her eyes not on the cloth and brush. She was just mindlessly moving her hand as she looks at Jinwoo.

"Ah... I see it now."

Jong-in quietly smiles to himself.

It wasn't that she was frightened of Jinwoo's intimidating presence. No way does someone scared of a person have that same intense look with such dilated pupils.

With a determined hum, Jong-in knew exactly what to do.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It had been three days since that event, and Jinwoo was attending to paperwork when he was informed of Jong-in's visit.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a bit of worry that his 'senior' might scold him for renting out gates in territory of Hunter's guild.

To his surprise, Jong-in entered carrying a rather large thing into his office.

"???" Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, silently inquiring Jong-in at what is the thing he brought in.

"Take a look, hunter Sung" Jong-in simply says and the hunter reluctantly stood up from his chair to approach the item his senior placed down.

When Jinwoo pulled off the protective cloth, he was met with a brilliant painting that felt like it was straight out of a renaissance era painting.

The red curtains were blood red and shaded softly. The wood is delicately painted, with even tiny specks that indicates the painter's exquisite attention to detail, but most importantly— His eyes were drawn to the middle, where a man stood center.

It was him.

His face was delicately painted, even his tousled black locks were intricately painted to imitate the way his strands behaved, his body language was painted in a relaxed but still managed to somehow translate the undertone of authority and power he held over the crowd that was purposely painted in a blurry manner to give more focus to him. Even the lighting of the stage was expertly imitated on the canvas.

The piece looked as if its goal was to put emphasis on his—the man who is standing in the golden limelight. As if it were trying to put him on a divine pedestal, to show him off as this some sort of god woth the painting.

"Who?..." Jinwoo finally manages to inquire.

"The artist chose you as her muse for the painting" Jong-in says, fixing his tie as he does so. "Quite the talent, no? Even us hunters who have quite the skill in the art of combat, are taken aback by such craft. It was as if she had magic on her very fingertips despite being just a civilian."

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats, not knowing what to feel about it.

"It would be... Quite indecent of me to keep a portrait of a rival in my guild, no?" Jong-in coughs out, making Jinwoo awkwardly nod. "Consider it as a gift and a thank you for assisting my guild in jeju raid as well as your role in the war."

"I have quite the awards really, no need" He shakes his head.

"Yes," Jong-in glances back at the painting. "But I think that you, as the painter's muse, must see for yourself this piece created on your image."

"Mn...."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo quite frankly grew curious of the little painter he met and made him the centerpiece of her painting. He was honestly worried at first, she was so small compared to him and she was trembling at the sight of him. It didn't help that he noticed how she grew more shaken after they exchanged pleasantries.

Maybe he had gripped her hand a little too much.

Beru on the other hand, was visibly very pleased at the painting as well as the other shadows who wont shut up about it.

Throughout his monotonous days and hours, Jinwoo would often think of the painter.

It feels... Weird to be in someone's painting.

It's unreal even.

But ah... By chance, he met that pleasant little painter again.

She was in the bookstore, picking up several heavy books. When he approached her, she was flustered and nearly dropped the books she was purchasing if it weren't for him assisting her.

Just like their first meeting, she was clearly bashful and anxious. So Jinwoo made space between them and made small talk.

Somehow, their small talks would develop into long and meaningful ones with the days passing of them having frequent encounters.

There is this tiny, tiny warmth in Jinwoo's heart whenever he finds himself in the presence of his painter.

His heart whom he thought had lost its capability to harbor affection— Is beating fast whenever he crosses paths with her.

There is... Something about her.

Her little habits, her never ending curiosity, her childish habits and her love for everything beautiful. Somehow, everything in her eyes has the potential to be a piece of artwork.

Jinwoo was never a creative soul, he's only ever creative at insults maybe.

So to see someone so dedicated to her own craft, to see someone so full of love for something... It's like peering into a different world he never thought was there.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Go Gunhee decided to visit Jinwoo, it was to thank the hunter again with coffee beans and two— Just to visit Jinwoo.

"Ah, hunter Sung," Gunhee smiles as the person he waited for appears. "I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to pop in"

"Not at all, director" Jinwoo smiles politely.

"That piece," The old man's gaze drifts to a painting hun by Jinwoo's side. "What a magnificent work of art. I heard Hunter Choi gifted it to you after the artist he hired decided to put you as the centerpiece. Truly such remarkable talent by a younger lady."

"Yes, hahah" Jinwoo awkwardly rubs his nape.as he serves Gunhee a cup of tea.

"My father told me that artists have a special kind of love" Gunhee hums, reminiscing. "He told me that having an artist love you is different. A writer glorifies you into pleasant words, a musician translates your beauty into compelling music and a painter immortalises all of you in a single painting. A blank canvas is a tool by painters that they use to communicate. All the ugliness of the world can be put into ink, and all the beauty into wonderful pops of pleasant colors"

He continues, "And through my years, this is one of the few most magnificent pieces I've ever seen that shows the painter's love for it's muse"

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats it, "I've been told the same thing."

"A lovely feeling, no?" Gunhee chuckles, "To be loved by a person so full of love."

"...So that's what it means"

"..."

The old man's face wrinkles into a happier smile.

Young love, truly beautiful, isn't it?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That colour is really pretty" You mutter absentmindedly glance at the flowing water underneath, as if trying to ingrain the memory and behaviour of it.

"Thinking of a new artwork, again?" Jinwoo asks, glancing down at the direction you were staring at. "I can't wait to see what you'll make."

"Your pieces are always so beautiful"

It felt as if something struck an arrow at your heart, you glance at Jinwoo— Completely frozen in state.

When he noticed the heavy silence, his eyes would befall on you before his mouth going a little agape.

You're crying.

"Did... I say something wrong?..." Jinwoo asks and you panic, immediately tearing your gaze away.

"No, no, no" You shake your head, hiding your shameful tears from Jinwoo.

Compliments with your art were never really foreign, but you, being the insecure sad soppy excuse of a human being would always downplay it most of the time.

You were never truly satisfied with yourself and anything you ever made. Mostly because you came from a household where everything is never enough.

Ultimately, that system has been fully ingrained into your body that it became your personality.

Colors are muddy, the lines aren't steady or too thick or thin, the anatomy is off, the composition isn't fluid and the harmony is all over the place.

You were always, always, critical of yourself.

Nothing is ever enough.

Your works aren't beautiful enough, and you thought they never will be.

But when Jinwoo told you your art was beautiful, it caused something to crack inside and burst open.

Maybe it's because you loved him so much. Maybe it's because he is the person you admire the most in your sorry, lonely life.

It was always Jinwoo who was in your mind whenever you had those bad episodes of just having silent mental breakdowns.

It's his image that became your most beloved saviour.

Perhaps you're sobbing because you're finally able to hear the words you've imagined he would during the times you daydreamed about him.

Or maybe... Your body reacted because you knew deep down that Jinwoo was never a liar.

That he didn't say those words out of empty praise, that he said your crafts is beautiful because they simply are.

In your broken, shattered heart a heavy yet soft warmth swelled. Swelling so much that you felt so overwhelmed and couldn't control your emotions.

That kind of validation just felt like it washed away all the doubts that plagued you for years.

As you cried uncontrollably, Jinwoo would instinctively reach his hand out and pull you in for a searing kiss. His tongue gently nudges your lips before shoving itself into it.

One flick.

Two flicks

Three flicks,...

Until you yourself cant even count it anymore.

He pulls back slowly, but still not far enough for you not to feel his hot breath fanning over your cheeks.

"I only said your paintings are beautiful and yet you are crying like this, sarang?" He rubs his nose against yours, "Just what happened to you that you're this emotional, hm? Did you not think what you make is stunning? Did you never once think that your pieces are captivating? Why are you crying like this? How hurt have you been that it feels like you're crying out this kind of sorrow I can't seem to understand?"

"Why does your sobs feel like you've been dealing with such loneliness that a simple sincere compliment breaks you to this extend?"

"Everything about you is beautiful. All of you is beautiful." Jinwoo says in that ever so gentle voice of his, "Never doubt that for even a single second."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: what started as another simple fluffy idea turned into something more... Personal :'DD. Sorry guys hahahahsheshdg. Idk when I will have the free time to make the second half of the cai bots yet but please look out for when I do. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[icbgwy]

not strong enough ꕥ kwon jae-sung x fem!reader

synopsis : with the seikai teikai only allowing six participants from each dojo to join, you start to reconsider the role karate might play in your life, much to your boyfriend’s dismay.

genre : angst

warning(s) : shouting, micommunication, ambiguous ending.

It was midnight, and the two of you should’ve been in bed resting to get up early for training at dawn, but Kwon had decided to take it upon himself to sneak out with you and celebrate his upcoming departure to Barcelona for the Seikai Teikai. 

The moon cast a glow on the mountain tops, a place you both had discovered together, somewhere to escape the watchful eyes of others. 

You sat next to Kwon, admiring his features while simultaneously debating on whether to tell him of your future plans. His face was loaded with excitement as he talked lively about the upcoming tournament. 

You felt guilty for what you were about to do knowing how it would ruin the sweet moment between the two of you, but keeping it in any longer felt like torture. You couldn’t keep lying to him.

“Kwon, I need to tell you something… I’m quitting the dojang and moving back to Seoul,” you said, your voice trembling. You cringed at the words leaving your mouth, making the decision in your head all too real. There’s no turning back now. 

It took him a while to register what you’d said. He looked at you with confusion written all over his face. “Wait, why!? You want to leave the dojang?” he asked in bewilderment.

You reached for his hand, your thumb tracing over his knuckles riddled with scars from the intensive training that Sensei Kim had no problem giving out. She was one of the many reasons on your mental list for wanting to leave. 

“I know we said we’d do this together, but I—” you tried to explain to him, but he cut you off, pushing your hands away as he stood up abruptly. 

His anger was getting the best of him. He couldn’t understand where this was coming from. Everything was going so well. Why would you want to leave him the dojang?

“But you what? Huh? Tell me why!” he demanded, his voice rising with each word, echoing in the quiet night. 

“I don’t have a future in karate, not in the same way you do at least. I’m not strong or passionate enough for it,” you embarrassingly admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“But you are strong! I‘ve seen it myself.” He tried to reassure you hoping it would make you stay.

“You’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend. I’m weak. Sensei Kim and Sensei Kreese know it too, even if they don’t say it. If I was as strong as you say I am, I would be going to Barcelona with you, but I’m not.” You looked down as you fidgeted with your hands, scared that if you didn’t, you’d start crying.

Kwon’s jaw clenched in frustration, pacing back and forth trying to regulate his anger with some breathing technique you had taught him when you first started dating. The memories of those early days together flooded back in his mind making him all too vulnerable to his own tears.

After some time, he sat down next to you, and in a low, exasperated tone asked, “Why couldn’t you wait until after the tournament to quit or at least tell me? Why does it have to be now?” He looked into your eyes, his filled with desperation and yours filled with guilt. The reality of the moment pressed down on you, making it hard to think.

“I can’t keep lying to you Kwon, it’s not fair the both of us. I can’t waste any more time chasing a future that isn’t plausible. I’m fine with not being the strongest, but I need to move back to Seoul and start getting ready for the suneung.” A sense of ease washed over you as you finally spoke the truth, but it was quickly replaced by the ache of seeing Kwon’s reaction. His eyes were glossy, and his eyebrows wrinkled in concentration making sure his tears didn’t spill.

Kwon let out a heavy sigh. “We’ve come so far together. Why can’t we keep going?”

“I need to find my own path, even if it means leaving you and the dojang behind,” you replied.

He sat in silence for a while, his mind racing as he tried to process your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely audible. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know you will, but just know I’ll be cheering you on. No matter where you are. I’ll miss you too,” you replied, your heart breaking at the thought of leaving him. He looked at you, his eyes searching for something, anything, that could change your mind. But deep down, he knew this was something you had thought long and hard about. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid.

© icbgwy all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platforms

[perfectlyoongi]

TELL ME YOU LOVE ME

ㅤ↬┊synopsis ... for the first time in a while you were in yoongi's arms enjoying a beautiful august night. what more could you ask for?

ㅤ⚘.fandom ... bts. ㅤㅤಇ.ft. ... yoongi x gn!reader. ㅤ⚘.genre ... one-shot. ㅤㅤಇ.content ... fluff so sweet it will give u a toothache, established relationship. ㅤㅤಇ.word count ... 0.9k. ㅤ⚘.cole's note ... hey !! its my ♡ bday ♡ !! ofc i had to do smtg w my sweet boy <: i hope u like it ♡

“Tell me you love me.”

Your voice was amused, the syllables being run over by small, tender laughs as you felt Yoongi’s warm hands holding you from behind.

“I love you.”

Yoongi separated each syllable with small kisses on your neck, the sweet laughs you let out filling his heart.

The night was cool. Even in the middle of summer, the breeze that passed through the city streets was gentle, bringing with it a little of the memory of autumn. The sky was clear. Even in the middle of August, hundreds of luminous points shone amidst the vast nothingness in which they found themselves.

And you were happy.

In your boyfriend’s arms, you cherished that night. Feeling Yoongi’s warm touch, feeling Yoongi’s tender kisses, feeling Yoongi — you could only smile, completely bathed in pure happiness.

How long has it been since you were last like this with Yoongi? Days? Weeks? No. Months. Months passed where you and Yoongi could only have casual encounters, one of you always rushing with their work, the other always wanting a break, a moment to take a deep breath, a moment to be with the one they loved most.

But now you were with Yoongi.

After so long where you could only be together in the digital world, you were back in your boyfriend’s arms, and that was all that mattered.

“Tell me… Tell me I’m the most amazing person you’ve ever met!”

Yoongi let your words draw a small laugh from him, that heavenly melody getting lost in the dark of night in an attempt to catch your own laughs.

Hiding his face in the crook of your neck, Yoongi pressed you closer to him, wanting to be as close to you as possible, not wanting that moment, that night, to come to an end.

“You are the most amazing person I have ever met.”

A new kiss from Yoongi on the crook of your neck, a new laugh from you.

Yoongi’s words were bathed in a cosmic magic that enchanted your ears and soothed your heart. In every syllable uttered, in every confession sung, in every feeling exposed, Yoongi allowed his voice to carry you in a gentle veil of lyrical poems that rocked you on that cool summer night.

There were only stars.

That night, in the garden of Yoongi’s house, nothing existed other than the intense moon that illuminated your romance. In ethereal tones, the moon allowed an intense shower of its glow to lend a bit of magic to the words you and Yoongi exchanged, turning each confession into an eternal promise.

“Tell me…” you were thoughtful for a moment as you felt Yoongi’s hands pressing you tighter against his chest – he missed you so much. “Tell me hm…”

“Hm?”

Yoongi nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck waiting for your words, sending goosebumps all over your body and stealing a small laugh from you.

“Tell me you’re proud of me.”

A small chuckle from Yoongi accompanied a small cricket – it seemed that even nature wanted to celebrate that moment of yours.

“I am extremely proud of you. Of everything you accomplished so far. Of everything you are and have ever been.”

Those words from Yoongi stopped in your heart. Making home inside you, those tender words enveloped your entire essence, wrapping your soul in intense tones of passionate reds and fascinating oranges.

You smiled longingly.

Yoongi missed you so much during these times. Yes, you talked to him every night, but the complicity you only shared when you were together away from any distractions was what was really missed.

The way Yoongi held you so close to him that it felt like he wanted you inside him, alongside his own essence. The way Yoongi spoke to you, as if his words were steeped in the most divine nectar shared by the gods themselves. The way Yoongi looked at you, as if you were the last ray of sunshine in a world long plunged into darkness. The way Yoongi loved you, always so sincere, always so intense.

“Tell me you love me.”

Your voice stripped away any and all fun that had used previously, giving a slightly more needy, softer air to your repeated request.

“Again?” Yoongi smiled and placed a small kiss on your neck.

“Please?”

Your plea wrapped Yoongi’s heart in a tight knot of longing. Yes. You were apart for too long.

“Even if the entire world is consumed by darkness and the entire universe is destroyed by shadows, my love for you will enlighten your entire path and future. For in me resides all the destruction of the stars that die every day to capture a fragment of our love. And I love you. Today and tomorrow. And forever I will love you. Since it is in you that my home, my soul, resides.”

You gently turned your face to look at Yoongi.

With bright eyes, face painted in the celestial colors of the moon, Yoongi looked at you in love, and you could swear that his cheeks were wanting to adopt a rosier tone after that confession.

And you kissed him.

Sealing Yoongi’s promise with your lips, you kissed Yoongi gently, caressing his lips with the longing for these moments and the melancholy of your relationship.

You were in Yoongi’s arms. And Yoongi loved you. What more could you ask for?

ㅤㅤ♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

[tarosunshine]

ʚ INTERRUPTED

genre fluff 𖹭 warning none ﹗ pairing boyfriend OT7 x fem reader

— You interrupt him with a kiss.

─── SHOTARO 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Your boyfriend was talking about how he had added a new step to his choreography. His expressions were pure joy and passion for it. His hands were moving everywhere while he explained to you. That just melt your heart, and you ended up interrupting him with a kiss on the lips. His hands were suspended in the air, and he looked at you somewhat surprised. His lips turn into a smile again. “Gimme another one.” He laughed, approached your face, and kissed you.

─── EUNSEOK 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You and Eunseok were watching TV quietly, until suddenly he started talking about how the movie wasn't entertaining. You were very immersed in what was happening and you didn't want to miss it, but your boyfriend wouldn't stop complaining, so you couldn't think of anything else but to kiss his cheek. He turned his head in your direction, both eyebrows raised, his big eyes looking at you. “All right.” He understood what you meant and stayed silent for the rest of the movie. A tiny smile gracing his face and his head resting on your lap.

─── SUNGCHAN 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You two were in the kitchen, he helping you make cookies. Sungchan watched your movements carefully. Mentally writing down how to do it. He put the dough in the oven to cook and then looked at you with a smile. “I can’t wa–” You cut him off by placing a kiss on his jaw, but your original target was his cheek. “Good job, Sung.” He looked in your direction and couldn't help but feel proud of your compliment.

─── WONBIN 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You had just arrived, and the first thing you heard when you entered the apartment was the melody of the guitar that sounded throughout the place, as well as the calming voice of your boyfriend. Sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa.

You appeared in his field of vision, and he continued playing while he smiled, starting to sing that song called 'Replay' that he had been practicing for the last few days for a show. The lyrics and his look made you too nervous, so you kissed his lips halfway through the chorus, and you could almost see hearts in his eyes as you walked away. So he put the guitar aside and rushed to hug you.

─── SEUNGHAN 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

A couple of minutes ago, you had gotten a little angry with your boyfriend for a stupid thing. He was resting his head on your shoulder, repeating your name over and over again so you would pay attention to him. So, to shut him up, you turned your head a little and kissed his cheek.

At the same time you looked away, Seunghan lifted his head and wanted you to look him in the eyes, but you flatly refused. “You're cute when you're angry.”

─── SOHEE 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

For a while now, both of you were sitting on the floor assembling some Legos that you had found in a box. Sohee was extremely entertained putting the pieces together. His eyes were fixed on the figure that he was little by little building. “I think this p–” The moles on his face made the image cuter, so you couldn't help it and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He barely looked up and smiled at you with that characteristic smile of his.

─── ANTON 𓂂 ׄ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yeah, so now everybody's knows that Wonbin hyung can't cook an egg.” He was telling you how was his day and what he did. You two were on the couch of your apartment. You were resting your cheek on his chest and felt how his chest shook as he laughed. You rise your head, and after seeing his smile, you approach his face and kiss his cheek. He stopped talking and looked at you a little surprised. “And why was that?” He squeezed you against his body as he giggled.

[pitchsidestories]

love is everywhere II Ewa Pajor x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1696

summary: Ewa and Reader have a toddler named Sophie together who loves going to Ewa's games.

author's note: Dear readers, the oneshot was inspired by this cute request here, please enjoy. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

As soon as the little girl walked into the dressing room in her oversized Barcelona shirt, all eyes were on her. The Barcelona players stopped their pre-game rituals to greet the brightly smiling toddler. Despite all their cooing and waving, the girl walked directly towards her targets.

“Frido, Ingrid!”, she called out as she launched herself at the two Scandinavian players for a hug.

Fridolina kneeled down to her: “Min älsking!”

“Oh hello.”, Ingrid said, surprised by the little girls hug.

Sophie beamed at them with big eyes: “Hi.”

Ewa watched from the other side of the room with a proud smile on her face, delighted by how much her daughter loved her new football team and vice versa.

At least until Caroline bumped her elbow into Ewas side: “Ewa, your daughter loves me more than you.”

“Sure, Caro.”, the polish striker rolled her eyes.

“At least she’s wearing a jersey with my name on it.”

Ewa sighed. Sophie already had an impressive collection on Barcelona jerseys with different players on their backs but this morning she was adamant to wear her Graham one and refused to change into a different one.

“She only likes the number ten, that’s got nothing to do with you.”, Ewa replied with a grin.

“She’ll stay delusional about that.”, Marta joked which earned her a glare from Caroline.

“She clearly loves Frido and Ingrid the most.”, Ewa noticed as she watched Ingrid braid Sophias hair.

Mapis smile grew wider as she joined the conversation. Everyone already knew what she was about to say before she said it.

“Oh yes, definitely. But I can’t blame her because same.”

Her teammates broke out into a collective groan.

“Mapi!”

The defender shrugged innocently: “What? It’s not a crime to love ones’ girlfriend.”

“No but that’s different.”, Ewa argued.

“Obviously.”, Mapi laughed.

The group went silent once the smile disappeared from Sophies face for the first time today. She looked Fridolina up and down who was the only one not dressed in her football kit. “Frido? You can’t play today?”

“Sadly not.”, the Swede confirmed.

“But does that mean you’ll sit with Mami and me?”

“Yes, we’ll sit together.”

The worried crease on the little girls forehead disappeared in an instant and she grabbed Fridolinas hand with new excitement.

“Someone’s very happy about it.”, you commented as Fridolina and Sophie joined you to walk to your seats.

“At least someone is happy about the injury.”, Fridolina joked with a shrug.

You smiled: “Alexia already promised her popcorn too.”

“She’s just trying to win her over.”, Fridolina laughed as you finally reached your seats.

Alexia appeared out of nowhere, popcorn in hand: “I’m just making sure that Sophie stays a lifelong Culer.”

“Pretty sure she’ll be that.”, the Swedish player stated with an amused smile on her lips.

“Of course it’s the best club in the entire world. So much better than Wolfsburg too.”, the team captain teased.

“Hey, without the VfL Sophie wouldn’t be here.”, you reminded her chuckling. In the background your daughter sung the Barcelona hymn passionately.

“Yes, do not underestimate the Wolfsburg connection.”, Fridolina added.

With a more serious facial expression Alexia continued to talk. “I know. Sadly, we’ll never see you in blaugrana.”

“Right.”, you swallowed hard, you missed playing on the pitch yourself, especially as you watched Ewa and her teammates lined up, anticipating the beginning of the football game.

 “Never say never.”, the Scandinavian blonde replied in an encouraging tone that eased the pain somewhat.

“The injury put an end to it anyway.”, you muttered blinking away the upcoming tears. Receiving such a horrible diagnosis back in the day was not easy for you or for your relationship, the only good thing that came out of it was your daughter who loved the game as much as you two did.

“Mami, Frido, Ale, the game has started!”, Sophie threw in impatiently, her eyes which were so like Ewa’s shining with childlike joy.

A few weeks later you’d witness something even grander, both crying overjoyed when Poland did qualify for the first time for a big international tournament. Only topped by the fact that it was your wife’s birthday. It was an historic moment forever engraved inside your brain.

But now you heard Alexia sighing satisfied as your excited daughter climbed onto her lap. “Finally.”

“I’m sure you’ve some other qualities that Barcelona could benefit from.”, Fridolina picked up on your earlier conversation.  

“I do, I’m continuing my university degree.”, you revealed to her nervously.

“They’ll talk through the whole game, right, Ale?”, Sophie groaned in annoyance.

“Hey, can you shut up? Sophie and I are trying to watch a game!”, the Catalan midfielder requested.

“No, because the news is fucking amazing!”, her teammate shook her head.

“Goool.”, your child cheered untouched by the women chatting.  

“Who scored?”, Alexia asked curiously.

“Mama!”, Sophie yelled, wearing a proud grin on her face.

“Your mami is a great goal scorer, Soph.”, she remarked.

“I know!”, the girl exclaimed in delight.

Meanwhile the Barcelona team had found their rhythm dominating every part in the match like usually, naturally the second goal was about to happen at any given time.

“And another goal.”, Alexia chirmed, swirling Sophie around who squealed cheerfully. You noticed that no one was immune to the happiness that your daughter radiated. The midfielder was watching the game through the child’s eyes and was reminded of her own childhood when she watched the games with her family.

When the final whistle blew, nothing could keep Sophie in her seat. She bounced up and down with impatient excitement, begging to go on the pitch to her mum. Luckily, Ewa already walked towards you, a gently smile on her face and the game ball under her arm. She quickly kissed you on the cheek before lifting Sophie over the barrier onto the pitch.

“Soph, did you see my goal?”, the striker asked her daughter while she knelt down in front of her.

Sophie nodded: “I did!”

“This ball is for you.” She handed her daughter the ball that she just had scored a goal with earlier in the game.

You didn’t think that Sophies eyes could get any bigger, but they did. She only stared at her mum while holding the ball in both hands, too stunned to say anything

Ewa turned to you: “Come down here too.”

“Me? I’m not a player…“

“I don’t care. Come celebrate with us.“, the striker laughed.

Sophie who had just found her voice again, sided with her mum: “Yes, come here!”

Smirking, Ewa shrugged: “You heard her.“

“Can’t say no to her.“, you chuckled.

“No, you can’t.“

You made your way down to the pitch where Ewa and Sophie were already passing the ball back and forth. As soon as your daughter saw you, she called out: “Play with us!”

“Okay.“, you agreed while Ewa played a perfect pass to you.

“You’re playing without me?”, Alexia interrupted your game, grinning.

Sophie frowned at the midfielder: “You’re injured.“

“You sound like my coach.“

You gave Barcelonas captain a one shouldered shrug: “She’s right though.“

“Yeah, fine.“, Alexia finally gave in, only slightly frustrated about her injury.

Your daughter seemed to notice her unhappiness and darted towards her for a quick hug: “We can play when you’re fit again.“

Alexia laughed, ruffling Sophies hair: “I will remind you of that.“

The stadium started to empty but you stayed on the grass, playing passes and taking shots on the goal until it got dark.

It was already past Sophies bedtime when you finally tucked her in. But even with all the excitement and the football session at the stadium, she was still awake when you finished reading her a bedtime story.

“Mums?”, she mumbled into her pillow right before you and Ewa were about to leave her room.

“Yes?”, Ewa asked, pausing next to her daughters bed.

“That was such a cool game.“, Sophie yawned, tired but content.

Ewa smiled: “It was, huh?”

“Your goal was cool too.”

“It was for you and mum.“, Ewa explained, winking at you.

“That’s sweet.“, Sophie sighed, overcome with sleep. Her eyelids dropped and her breathing began to slow.

You pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, trying not to wake her up: “Good night, love.“

Ewa closed the door behind her as you left your daughter’s room. She paused in the hallway for a moment, studying your face. “Barcelona looks good on you.“

“It does on you too. And on your goal.”, you winked.

“Thanks.”, she ran awkwardly a hand through her open hair. Attention on her solely always made her nervous, it was a team sport after all, the only thing which truly counted was winning or loosing a game together.

The Polish striker intertwined your fingers with hers while you both went to your bedroom. Amusedly you glanced at her side profile as you opened the door.  “Also, you know that we can never leave now that Sophie fell in love with the team, the club and the city.”

“Maybe that was the plan all along.”, Ewa replied half-jokingly and half-seriously.

“Oh, you mean the Wolfsburg connection has proved that.”, you raised an eyebrow.

“Actually, I was joking. I’m happy she likes it here so much.”, the forward clarified, laying down on the bed next to you, propping her head, her catlike eyes lovingly looked at you.

“Me too.”, you hummed approvingly.

In a more earnest sounding tone, she continued. “And you like it here too?”

You noticed the football player furrowing lines appearing on her forehead, the topic seemed to worry her.  

“I do, it’s the change of scenery I think I needed, what about you?”, you answered with a counter-question, trying to soothe her worries.

“Same. It was the right decision.”, Ewa declared smiling.

You whole-heartedly agreed with her on this.

And your daughter was able to see that love truly was everywhere, not just the romantic one you had with her mum, in Barcelona you did feel more comfortable exchanging intimacies in public, the family love the three of you shared, but also the platonic love the team had for one another.

Love was all around.

if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated ! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[abbyclypsie]

VOULEZ-VOUS! - 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍

WARNINGS: reader singer, a silly little thing made with love, english is not my first language!

It was a sunny morning in London, and Y/n and Leah Williamson's home was filled with an energy only a passionate singer could bring. Y/n, dressed in a sparkling outfit reminiscent of ABBA's iconic style, was bouncing around the room with a microphone in hand, belting out every note of "Voulez-Vous" with a passion that could ignite any stage.

"People everywhere, a sense of expectation hanging in the air!" Y/n sang, spinning in the middle of the room and dramatically pointing at Leah, who was sitting on the couch with her legs crossed, trying to read a book.

Leah, in her typical calm demeanor, sighed deeply and slowly closed her book. It was obvious her patience was wearing thin. She loved Y/n, but her love for ABBA was reaching its limit.

"Y/n..." Leah began in a calm but firm tone. "Yes, my love?" Y/n replied, still dancing as if she were at a live show. "Don't you think you've sung that song enough for today?"

Y/n stopped in the middle of a dramatic step, looking at Leah with eyes that sparkled with pure disbelief.

"Enough? Leah, it's Voulez-Vous! How can I stop when the spirit of the music lives within me?"

Leah rubbed her temples, trying to find the right words.

"Y/n, I love you and I support everything you do, but you've sung that song... like, ten times. Just today. I'm starting to dream about it." "That's great! It means you're feeling the magic of ABBA!"

Leah laughed humorlessly, throwing the book aside.

"No, it means I can't stand to hear 'Voulez-Vous' one more time. I was starting to like ABBA because of you, but now..."

Y/n put her hand on her heart, as if Leah had just stabbed a knife there.

"Are you saying I'm ruining ABBA for you? How is that possible? They're pure perfection, and I'm just spreading that perfection around the world!"

Leah stood up, walking over to Y/n, who was still holding the microphone like a weapon of defense.

"I don't want to ruin your passion, really. But... maybe you could sing something else? Anything else. Please."

Y/n narrowed her eyes, tilting her head dramatically.

"Are you suggesting I betray ABBA?" "No, I'm suggesting you give me a break. Just a break, Y/n. I need peace. I beg you."

Silence hung between the two for a moment, as S/n pondered. Finally, she lowered the microphone and sighed deeply.

"Alright, Leah. I won't sing ABBA... for now. But only because I love you."

Leah smiled, pulling Y/n into a tight hug.

"Thank you. And I love you too. Even when you're driving me crazy with Voulez-Vous."

Y/n laughed against Leah's shoulder but soon pulled away, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous smile.

"What if I sing Dancing Queen? It's softer." "Y/n!"

The two burst into laughter, with Leah shaking her head as Y/n took an exaggerated bow in the middle of the room. Despite their differences, that chaos was part of what made their relationship so unique. And Leah knew, deep down, that no matter how many times she heard ABBA, she could never stop loving Y/n... even if it was with earplugs.

[jungaji]

calla ❀˖°

boyfriend!jisung x composer gn!reader ♡

genre: comfort

calla, someone said that your time will be over soon

jisung watches silently as you flip through your music sheets again, your eyes distant, and fingers trembling. the weight of the notes scribbled across the pages being too much to bear, too heavy to carry.

"i can't do this anymore, sung," you murmur, voice brittle and fragile, much like a withering flower.

he doesn't respond immediately, letting your words hang in the quiet studio. his heart aches as he takes in the sight of your broken form—hair a chaotic mess, your favorite sweater wrinkled from days of wear, and dark shadows under your eyes from sleepless nights and tears that never seemed to end.

he's never seen you like this before, and it scares him.

it hurts him.

but calla, you can always grow back, oh

"my love," he says softly, hands reaching up to soothe your head, gently combing through your hair, smoothing the unruly strands that stick out.

you lean into his touch instinctively, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands, but your eyes remain fixed on the crumpled sheets in your lap. the music notes and lyrics blurring together, a cruel reminder of everything you think you've failed at.

he kneels beside you, gaze never leaving your fragile form and gently pries the crumpled pages from your hands.

you make a weak attempt to snatch them back, but jisung's grip is firm as his eyes meet yours—soft and filled with an unwavering warmth that cracks open the walls you've built around yourself.

"these notes aren't failures," he starts, his tone steady. "you're not a failure."

"but what if i am?" you whisper, voice cracking as tears start to well up in your eyes again.

"what if i'll never be able to write a song again?"

at your words, jisung's heart clenches, the weight of your pain pressing down on him. it frustrates him to see you like this—struggling and unsure, as if the spark that once burned so brightly in your heart has been put out.

if you don't have enough sunlight,

you used to live for composing. music called out to you in a way no one could understand. it was the love of your life—something jisung used to complain about, how you seemed to love your music more than you loved him.

but despite his endless complaints, jisung never resented it. he always supported you, loved seeing your passion for music, even if it meant he had to lose you to the studio sometimes.

gently, he pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as his voice softens, "don't say that," he murmurs against your hair. "you have so much to give, my love. you don't have to see it all right now. you're not meant to have everything figured out at once."

hearing his words, you bury your face in his chest, trembling as your emotions flood through you. the ache in your chest feels endless, and the doubts eat away at you like an unforgiving tide.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, cupping your face in his hands. "i'm here," he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "c'mon, we'll get through this. one note at a time."

i'll blow the clouds away, calla

jisung keeps you close, his steady warmth grounding you, and only when your sobs quiet into soft hiccups does he speaks again, his voice low and soothing. "do you trust me?"

you hesitate for awhile, thoughts still clouded with uncertainty, but you eventually nod against him.

he smiles softly, brushing away the tear-streaked hair from your face before reaching for the forgotten music sheets, picking up a pen and scribbling something in big block letters across the page.

curious, you sneak a glance at the page, reading the sentence: MARK'S HAD BAD DAYS TOO.

you blink a few times, re-reading the sentence and processing the absurdity, before bursting out into a fit of giggles. jisung joins, both your laughters filling the studio and pulling you back from the edge of your despair.

"what?!" he teases, grin widening as he watches you giggle. "it's true! mark's had bad days and he still wrote, like, 200 songs."

"you and your admiration for mark..." you tease, wiping the last of your tears away.

he watches you adoringly, gaze soft with nothing but affection in his eyes. "but i admire you the most. you know that right?" the sincerity in his voice settling deep in your heart, almost like a soft embrace that promises everything will be okay.

"i know," you whisper, squeezing his hand softly. "thank you for being here, sung."

authors note: dedicated to anybody who has been struggling/overwhelmed with their work! we can get through this together, ily <3 also happy belated birthday to my lele pie (i will write for you soon... one day...)

taglist ♡: @ldh0000 @haechyuckan

[heesvnqie]

Whispers Of Jealousy

Title- Whispers Of Jealousy 🦋✨️

pairing: fem!reader x heeseung

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: When Heeseung got jealous as you were talking with another guy during your date.

genre: smut

warnings: >> speeding, smut,cussing, biting/marking, fingering, begging, choking, slight hair pulling, size kink, dom!heeseung x sub!reader, unprotected sex (a big NO-NO), orgasm denial, edging, slight overstimulation, creampie, manhandling, petnames.

In the bustling heart of Seoul, where bright neon lights illuminated the streets and whispers of romance danced on the air, there was a cozy café that served the smoothest coffee one could find. It was here that Heeseung and you had made it a tradition to meet every Friday after your respective classes.

Heeseung was your lovely boyfriend. He was unlike anyone you had ever met. With his warm smile and infectious laughter, he had a way of making even your dullest days feel extraordinary. His passion for music was one of the many things that drew you to him. He often sung songs out for you , serenading you with sweet melodies while you sat curled up next to him, feeling serene. Your love blossomed like the flowers in spring, vibrant and colorful against the gray backdrop of the world.

As you walked toward the café, your mind danced with thoughts of him—his dark hair flopping charmingly over his forehead, the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, and the gentle way he always held your hand. You could hardly contain your excitement, your heart racing in anticipation.

As you opened the cafe door, the weather of the cafe welcomed you in. The atmosphere was filled with warmth, the rich aroma of coffee enveloping you like a comforting blanket.

You had always cherished these moments with Heeseung. With his playful banter, he had a way of making your heart race and your cheeks flush. Despite his easygoing demeanor, you could sense that beneath the surface, he harbored a deeper intensity—a fierce protectiveness that he rarely let slip.

Today you walked into the café a little earlier than usual, spotting a familiar figure seated in the corner. It was Joon, a classmate from your literature class. You had always found his mind intriguing, and today he wore a smile that lit up his face. As you approached Joon, you were unaware of Heeseung,who also earlier than usual, was already at the counter ordering coffee. He caught sight of you chatting and laughing with Joon. The playful banter you exchanged ignited a pang of jealousy deep within him.

Heeseung felt the warmth of jealousy creeping up his spine, the playful sparkle in his eye dimming as he watched you lean closer to Joon, both of you engrossed in conversation. It wasn't that he doubted your loyalty; it was just that the sight of you giggling with another boy twisted something inside him.

As you looked around the cafe, you spotted Heeseung. You bid Joon a goodbye as you made your way to your seat. Heeseung's façade of calmness shattered. “Hey, you were gone for a while,” he said, crossing his arms, his voice playful yet tinged with an edge he couldn’t hide.

You noticed the slight change in his tone, a hint of possessiveness lurking beneath the surface. “I was just talking to Joon about the assignment,” you replied, oblivious to the turmoil brewing in his mind. “He was really helpful!”

“Helpful, huh?” Heeseung smirked, his gaze narrowing. “So helpful he kept you occupied this whole time?” His jealousy echoed in the air, feeling almost tangible.

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. “Are you jealous, Heeseung?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, swirling your coffee in mock innocence.

His expression shifted, and he leaned closer, closing the distance between your faces. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Maybe I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

The atmosphere shifted, tension crackling between you like electricity. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the way his intense gaze held you captive. You leaned in slightly, a playful grin spreading across your face. “What are you going to do about it?”

In a swift movement, Heeseung scooted closer, his arm brushing against yours. “I could show you,” he replied, his voice low and inviting.

Boldly, you challenged him with a playful laugh, “Oh? Show me then.”

As if the world around you faded, Heeseung's fingers entwined with yours, pulling you closer to him. The café's hum faded into the background, and all that mattered was the fire igniting between you two. With one sweeping movement, he captured your lips with his, the kiss both possessive and passionate.

Heat surged through you as you melted into him, your mind swirling with desire. Heeseung's hands found their way to your waist, pressing you firmly against him as the kiss deepened, a dance of tongues and soft moans that echoed in the space between you.

“Let them look,” he murmured against your lips, breaking for a moment to breathe. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Your heart raced at his words, the possessiveness driving you wild with desire. “Then let them see,” you whispered, nipping at his bottom lip playfully.

With that, Heeseung's passion ignited further. He pressed you against the café’s wall, oblivious to the startled looks from other patrons. His kisses grew more fervent, filled with a need to claim you, to show you just how much he cared—how much he really wanted you.

As the world outside spun on, you melted into his embrace, lost in the moment, lost in him. Neither of you cared about the boy in the corner anymore; it was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth and the sparks of jealousy that had ignited something far deeper.

Finally, when your lips parted and you gasped for air, you looked into his eyes, which were now softening, the jealousy melting away into a mix of affection and desire. “See? I’ve got you,” he said, his signature smirk returning.

Your breathing was shaky as he held your wrist and pulled you out of the cafe.

He opened the door of his car as you sat down. He sat down as he drove off in a dangerous speed. You reached your house in a matter of 10 minutes, when it usually takes 30 minutes or more.

When Heeseung shuts the car off in your garage, he turns the car engine off. He exits the car, and before you could open the car door and step out, he jolts open the car door and lifts you up in bridal style, slamming the car door shut with a kick, He holds you up with one hand ease, and fumbles to open the door with the keys in the other hand.

As soon as you both are in the house, he rushes to the bedroom.

He throws you on the bed. He unbuckles his belts and unzips his pants as he discards it. He was now in his black boxers.

He hovers over your body and he presses his body on yours as a groan leaves his mouth.

He licks your earlobe as he nibbles on it, making your knees go weak and panties damp.

"Heeseung." You breath out his name. He hums while he places wet kisses down your neck.

"Fuck me."

Heeseung pulls you into a intimate kiss as his hands roam your body with a sense of urgency, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touches. You respond eagerly, wrapping your hands over his shoulder.

"Oh god. You drive me crazy, you know that? he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

His hands move with confidence knowing exactly how to get you wet. "So wet for me." Heeseung murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck.

Heeseung’s kisses move lower, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of your skin. His hands are everywhere, caressing and teasing.

He slips your panties down and slides a hand over your pussy which makes you gasp. You tilt your head back and he makes rounded movements on your clit.

Suddenly he enters two fingers in as you cry out again, feeling lightheaded. He slides those fingers in and out your slick opening.

"Whose are you?", he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. His eyes lock onto yours. Your hands grip the sheets hard, and you struggle to find your voice, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Y-yours" you manage to whisper out.

Heeseung’s smile widens, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He moistens his hand, his fingers gliding over your clit with a newfound slickness, amplifying the sensation. The friction sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you moan out loud. His fingers expertly play your body, worshipping wherever he touches.

Heeseung’s fingers maintain their relentless rhythm, each movement pushes toward your climax.

His fingers dive lower, exploring your wetness before returning to your clit, now wet with your cunt and his cock. Heeseung’s eyes glow with desire, as he aligns his cock with your entrance, his tip touching your sensitive clit, making you gasp.

Heeseung chuckles darkly as he slams into you, a broken groan leaving his lips. He begins to fuck into you at an ungodly pace and you cling to him, moans and desperate cries leaving your lips. Heeseung's lips find your neck and bite at the skin there as he continues to snap his hips into yours.

Every thrust hits your sensitive spot that makes you almost black out at the pleasure. You feel so good as you hear him say,"Tell me how much you want this."

"I need you so bad, heeseung. please, don’t stop." You moan out unable to keep quiet.

His eyes darken with desire, and increases his pace, thrusting deeper inside you.

"You’re so tight." He groans, his voice rough. "Wanna fuck you everyday and night."

You can only moan in response, your body meeting his thrusts eagerly, the pleasure overwhelming. Heeseung’s movements become more uneven, his control slipping as he nears his own climax.

"Cummming babydoll?" He says, his forehead still on yours, his breathing ragged.

Within a few thrusts, your orgasm crashes over you in a wave of ecstasy.

He follows you moments later, his own release tearing through him, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. He collapses on top of you, his breath ragged and his body trembling.

"I love when your whispers have a tinge of jealousy beneath them." You manage to say as he chuckles out.

"They are special as they are the whispers of jealousy."

THE END~~

Taglist:-

@slutofpsh , @laurenalpha123 ...

Comment down to be added to my taglist. Hope you liked the fic.

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Hiiii👋 sorry for taking so long to post I've been really busy with school and sports . So I really haven't had that much time. But since it's fall break I've managed to make this so sorry if it feels rushed. But anyway I just wanted to say thanks for all the likes and new followers I really never thought anyone would like my writing. So thank you guys for all the compliments. Any way this is the next part of the series I've made and I still haven't came up with a name so if you guys do please tell me. Thanks for reading and enjoy!💗

Notes: were gonna act like Jason never died and that it's okay for him to be seen with the batfam. Bruce and Talia are married in this.

Warnings: Yandere themes. ( Their not really yandere yet). Not proofread.

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"Hey honey, you girls sung beautifully today." Lolas mother says giving you a hug. Just like she usually does after each service.

"Thank you miss keene." You reply. You had always liked Lolas mom. She was kind and kind of clumsy. She was never nown to be on time or to be perfect. But somehow she was always happy ,always content. She never gave you a false smile like others did. Her love was genuine. Like her heart.

Just like you and Lola were best friends so are your mother's. You had known Lola all your life. Lola had been their through everything. And you trusted her blindly. Just like she trusted you blindly.

So it was no surprise to anyone what Lola had asked her mother. "Mama, can I stay at y/n house tonight. I know tomorrow's Monday but we promise not to stay up late." Lola says with a slight pout trying to convince her mother.

Just like you are your father's baby. Lola was her mother's baby. Her mother's only baby. Lolas father had left when Lola was three ,and Her mother never looked for another man. Decideding that she was better off just her and Lola.

" Well did your mother say yes ,baby." Lolas mother says looking at you.

"Yep!" You say happily. You knew lolas mother would say yes , she always did. "Well than I suppose it'll be alright." She says. "Thank you ,mama." Lola says giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you misses keene." You say coping lolas action. Lolas mother smiles widely at the act of affection.

"Your welcome girls ,but let's not forget we still have to go help set up the food." Lolas mother says.

"Of course mama well meet you in there." Lola says and her mother begins walking off. "Yesssssss! finally we haven't had a sleep over in like three years." Lola says grabbing your arm and slowly walking towards the church kitchen.

You laugh at her childish antics. "It's been 2 weeks Lola." You reply slowly walking towards the kitchen with Lola. "Same thing." Lola says in a 'matter a factly.' tone. Slightly rolling your eyes at Lolas childish ways ,you smile as you see your grandpa slowly approaching you two.

"Hey, papa your service was really good today. One of your best one ever!" You say given your grandpa a hug. Lola quickly follows your actions. "Yep! definitely one of your best ones."

"You girls are too kind. But you know it isn't me who's talking. It's Jesus talking through me!" Your grandpa says passionately. "Yes grandpa but it also take a good man for Jesus to talk through."

Your grandpa offers you a kind smile at your words. "Well thank you girls but by any chance have you seen the Wayne's? I truly hope I didn't scare them off." Your grandpa says looking around worried.

"I'm sure you didn't pastor. They might just be in the bathroom or something." Lola says trying to reassure your grandpa. "I suppose you girls are right but I'll continue to look for them. Please tell me if you see them. I want them to stay to eat with us." Your grandpa says as he walks away looking for the Wayne's.

"Sometimes I think your grandpas just too nice for his own good. I mean did you see the evil looks that they were giving him when he was preaching? For being rich the obvious have no class." Lola says watching your grandpa walk away.

"Yeah I know." You say gentle pulling her arm so she'll begin walking with you towards the kitchen.

"Whatcha need help with mama?" You say with a small smile. You know your mom hates it when you don't speak proper. So that's why you do it so often. You mother obviously heard you because your standing right across from her. She sends you a warning look and then sadly she ignores you and continues settings up the tables.

You sigh knowing that your obviously defeated and that she isn't in a playing mood right now. "OK, ok, mama what do you need help with?" You say hoping you didn't make her upset.

Your mother sighs and looks up at you. "We'll you can help set up the other tables. If you don't mind baby. The forks and plates are in that container." Your mother says pointing at the white container. " I don't mind at all." You say offering your mother a more genuine small. To which she returns. "Thank you baby. " Your mother says. You turn around going to grab the white container. "Y/n." You mother says with cuases you turn back around.

"Have some manners please. We have guest." Your mother says nodding in a direction. You turn your head in the direction that you mother was mentioning and you see them. You see the Wayne's.

You sigh 'why are they staying!!' You say in your head. Looking at them a little longer you see why they stayed. Your grandpa. Unlucky enough your grandpa sat them at the table were your family usually sits. So you'll definitely be sitting by them.

You groan in response to what your mother says and mutter a quite " yes ma'am." As a reply

Turning back around and grabbing the white container. You begin to set up the remaining tables.

Finally finishing setting up the tables you look up and see that the they Wayne's are staring directly at you ,again. You would have thought that you catching them would make them look away ,but it doesn't. You stare back but not with the glare that they give you ,no. Your too kind for that. You simply look at them amused.

Why where they looking at you? They didn't break they eye contact. So you did it was just to embarrassing looking at them for so long! You don't know how they could look at you for so long and not be embarrassed. Maybe it was true what Lola had said. They have no class....

Looking around you saw that the food was set up and they tables. You saw most people were already sat in their usual seats and others still finding their seats. Still looking around you felt a light tap on your arm. Looking down it was riley your little brother.

"Mama said that you need to go say the foods ready." You brother says trying to whisper. Sadly you brother doesn't know how to whisper so your sure most people heard. " ok." You whisper back.

You hated announcing things. And you didn't know why your mother made you do it. We'll you did know why she made you do it. You were her first child so she wanted you to take her place in the church when you got older. But still she knew you hated speaking infront of others ,and yet she always made you do it.

Walking in front of everyone you began feeling nervous. But just like always you were able to compose yourself. You stand infront of everyone with a blinding smile and a cheerful aura. All eyes are on you. Carefully you grab the microphone and turn it on.

Bring the microphone to you mouth you begin to speak. " Hi everyone." You say and everyone slightly giggles at your shyness.

Clearing your throat you start agian. "I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who prepared this food. Some didn't prepare food but they helped set up. And really none of this would be possible if it weren't for them. So let's give them around of applause." You say clapping your hand and soon enough everyone claps with you.

Once the claps come to a stop you say what you had initially came to say. "Also the food is ready so please make you way up in a line so that you can get your food. But hey let's be mindful of our guest and let them go first. That's all thank you." You say setting down the microphone and going to your table.

Making your way to your table Lola stops you. " Hey girl you good? You look like your sweating bullets?" Lola questions but you wave off her concern. "Yeah I'm good. It's just hot in here. I think I need some air." You say walking past her. You leave at out of the church kitchen and begin making your way to the front door. Lolas quick to follow you though. Once outside the big church you feel the cold air hit your skin. 'Maybe it would have been best to bring a jacket' you think to yourself.

Lola being the kind girl she was was right behind you. Watching your every move. "Are you alright." Lola asked with concern. "I'm alright." You say. You sigh in disappointment. This was nothing knew to you or Lola. You both new how much you struggled with talking infront of people. You could act all fine when you began speaking but after you were done. It was like all that anxiety that you kept in you while you spoke hit you loke a tsunami.

"Just breath." Lola says gently rubbing your back. And you know that if anyone else was here you'd probably would begin to cry out of embarrassment. But fortunately for you it was Lola who was here. Lola had seen you at your best and had been there for you at your worst. There was nothing you could keep from Lola and nothing she could keep from you.

You feel better at her comforting words and offer her a small but genuine smile. "Thanks." You say now feeling ten time better. "No problem." She says offering you a kind smile back." I don't know why I get like this. It's really not even that deep. It's just plain dumb I mean it's not like im still a baby. " You say looking down.

Lola sighs at your words she hates when you talk yourself down in any kind of way. "If it makes you feel like this then it's not dumb. It's emotional N/n and you can't control your emotions... like remember the first time we did the talent show together. And how I threw up before we went on."

You scoff at her words "You were seven back then." You say looking at her. "Yeah but I still feel like that sometimes and when I do ,do you ever tell me it's dumb how I feel?" She questions and she does have a point but it was different with her ,atleast in your eyes it was. "No but-" you try to speak but she cuts you off. "No buts emotions are emotions and we can't control that but do you know what we can control?" She asks with her eye brow raised. "What?" you asks

"How much we pig out on misses yeshas ham and turkey." She says lightly nudging you. You laugh at her words knowing how serious she is. You two did love misses yeshas ham and turkey. You take a look around and see all the beautiful white snow on the ground and see the beautiful oak trees around you. And you feel peace agian. Standing there with your best friend who knew you better then anyone was truly a blessing because no one could cheer you up like her , no one...

"Let's go in." You say and at your words she grabs your hand and smiles brightly. "Oh thank goodness any longer and my mom probably would have eaten all the food" Lola jokes but you know her mom does have quite the appetite. But you can't judge because so does your dad.

Walking into the big church the warm air greets you kindly. No longer feeling how you once felt. Another emotion began taking its place,hunger. Walking into the churches dinning room you see that most people already have there plates while others are still waiting to get theirs. No one notices you and Lola walk in and you doubt anyone notices that you two left.

You and Lola walk over to the short line and patiently wait your turn. Looking over at your table you see that your family already has there plates and so do the Wayne's. Your father catches you Looking and nods his head. Silently asking if you were alright. You smile back and nod your head telling him you were alright. You suppose someone did notice you leave.

Once you and Lola had gotten your plates you walk to your table and sit where you usually sit. You sat beside your father and Lola by her mother. Usually you and Lola would be seated right across from eachother but since the Wayne's were here someone else was sat infront of you. And thank goodness it was your favorite wayne. "Wow can you really eat all of that?" Tim questioned pointing at your plate. And quickly Tim catches what he had said. "No not like that it's just that! I um I don't know why I said that I'm not calling you fat or anything. Omg why do I talk like this. " and you aren't sure if Tim's talking to you or himself anymore.

You laugh slightly at how embarrassed he looks "It's alright I know what you mean." You say with a smile and he sighs no longer feeling like he offended you. "Thank God." He says and your face turns into one of concern. He notices the change in your mood. "Did I say something wrong." He questions not knowing what he did. "It's just that we try not to use God's name in vain." You say quietly. "Oh! I'm sorry this is a church I should have known better. I'm sorry." He says looking a little embarrassed.

"It's alright you didn't know." You say and he looks relieved to her you say that. You continue to eat in silence. It's comforting silence unlike before.

You don't want to ask this question but it's making you go crazy not knowing the answer so you decide to ask anyway. "Do you mind me asking you something?" You question hoping he says yes. "Sure." He says looking happy that you broke the silence. " when you introduced yourself you said that your name was Tim drake. So is your last name wayne or drake?" You ask.

He seem to perk up at the question as if he's excited to answer. "I'm adopted. So my lasts name is actually drake because I didn't want to change it." He answered. "Oh!" You say shocked. You suppose that did make the most since. Because he didn't really look like his parents. None of the kids really did except for the youngest one. You wanted to ask if they all were adopted but that would be to straight forward and rude.

Feeling slightly embarrassed you look at your food. Decideding not to look at Tim ,you begin eating again. " Um if you don't mind me asking How old are you?" Tim asks and your glad that he broke the awkward silence. "I'm sixteen." You say with a smile.

He smiles as you speak almost as if he loves hearing you talk. You can't help but feel a little flattered by how he's looking at you but you brush it off as his way of looking at people. "And how old are you?" you ask. Hoping he doesn't mind the question.

" I'm seventeen." He says and you offer a hum as a response. You continue eating in silence looking anywhere but him. 'You just met this man. You can't just fall in love with him.' you say in your head.

Looking at the church's dining room you feel the peaceful atmosphere. The pastel colors of the room and the sound of people talking is kind of peaceful. The smell of food and your father's strong colone is all you can smell. And yet it's peaceful. Maybe the Waynes being here wasn't so bad. Atleast Not with the wayne sitting in front on you. You finish eating and your going to put away your plate when you see your uncle stand up to announce something.

You watch as he stands up and clears his throat. We'll everyone's watching him now. Everyone I just got a message saying that we all need to head home there a blizzard coming and it won't be safe to drive when it hits so we need to go home now. Please throw away your trash and we'll clean up the rest later. You uncle says and gasp are heard all around the room. It truly isn't that surprising though since there usually are blizzards during this tim of the year.

Standing up you grab your playe and through it away. And everyone does the same. Your eyes go to your grandpa because he's usually the one trying to lock everything up right now. But he continues to talk to the Wayne's. You walk up next to him being curious as to what's so important to tall about that he's not help clean up. "It's far to dangerous to go back to gotham right now you can stay with me and my wife." Your grandpa says but bruce is quick to decline but your grandpa is far to persuasive to take no for an answer. "With do respect I wouldn't be able to sleep if I knew you and your family were driving in bad weather. Please stay with me and my wife just until the weather clears up. We have plenty of space."

Bruce doesn't say anything and just considers it. Talia grabs Bruce's arm and nods at him silently telling him to agree. Bruce sighs before he begins speaking. "Just until the weather clears up."

Your grandpas face lights up and he nods his head. "Yes just until the weather clears up. Come on we better get going before the blizzard hits us and we're stuck here." Your grandpa says.

You groan quietly to yourself. 'Why does grandpa have to be like this.' you mutter under your breath so no one can hear you.

If only you didn't live right next to your grandparents then this wouldn't be your problem, but sadly you did live next to your grandparents. So you knew exactly how this would go. This wasn't the first time your grandparents (actually just your grandpa) offered a random family a room to sleep in. So you knew what would happen.

You'd be the one helping them unpack and help them feel completely since you were younger and your grandparents couldn't do much. And since you just lived right beside them it wouldn't bother you to help would it? That's how they saw it atleast and your parents saw it the same way. On the bright side though you'd get some of your grandma's cookies that she made for you to eat eventide you came and helped them.

Looking around almost everything was picked up already and the rest could be left until the storm had passed. Feeling a light tap on the shoulder you turn around to see Lola with a pout clearly on her face. "My mom said I can't spend the night because of the blizzard." Lola says with a pout. "Oh no. Well I guess that does make sense." You say your face mimicking her own. She nods "Yeah I guess." She says shrugging her shoulders.

"Well I gotta go. I'll call ya later ,okay." She says giving you a hug. You hug her back. " okay." You say. You stand there for a moment once she starts walking away "be safe!" You say watching her walk away. "Always am!" She says back still walking away.

Soon enough your in your dad's truck driving to your house. The car ride home is mostly silent other than the small talk your mother and father have... And your little brother ,Riley, seems to have fallen back asleep...

Finally arriving home you see your grandparents pull into their driveway and behind them is the Wayne's..

Groan you get out of your father's truck and you sigh knowing your mother is already looking at you but deciding to test your luck you meet her gaze. " Stop buying time N/n go help your grandparents" with a dramatic sigh you reluctantly walk over to your grandparents house.

Pulling your coat tighter around yourself you walk up to your grandparents and the Wayne's and you don't know if your grandparents are just slow or you walk very fast... but by the time you reach their porch their trying to unlocking the door ...

You smile as you reach the porch and you can tell all eyes are on you. The Wayne's seem curious as to why your here and your grandma just smiles at you.. while your grandpa tries to unlock the old house door.

After a little bit of time and embarrassment your grandpa finally opens the door. Your grandpa smiles as he opens the door and holds it open for everyone to walk through. Stepping into your grandparents old home you feel the warmth the home provides and you sigh in relief.

The Wayne's look around at the big old house .. it was probably different then the houses in gotham you think to yourself. Your grandpa closes the door and with a warm smile he starts speaking.

"We have plenty of rooms for you and your family. So please make yourself at home." Your grandpa says with a smile. You sigh knowing what your grandpa is going to say next.

"Come now why don't we go talk and my granddaughter can show the kids around the house." Your grandpa says to the adults like he always does. So like usual the adults go with your grandparents to drink some tea or coffee. While you show the kids around. 'Just like clock work.' you think to yourself .

The kids (well more like teens and young adults) turn to you and just like your grandpa you show them a warm smile.

Maybe you shouldn't have shown them a warm smile now that you think of it. Because now that's all they long to see. And they'll stop at nothing to have that warm smile directed at them. And only them.

-💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗-

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @dhanyasri

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Tequila

Summary: Tequila has a lot to answer for when Y/N wakes up naked in Dean’s bed, but once the shock wears off, she realises that maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of smut, angst, fluff, feelings, friends to lovers

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Another December Drabble for you all to enjoy!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leaving a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

The sun streams through the motel’s threadbare curtains, rudely awakening you from a deep, drunken sleep. Your head is pounding, and there’s a ringing in your ears that comes with the vague memory of the loud music playing at the bar last night.

It’d been a hard hunt to stomach: Lamia, a child-eating demon, had decided to take up residence in Grangeville, Idaho, and once you’d blasted her ass back to hell, you and Dean really, really needed to let off a lot of steam.

Luckily, there was a dive bar next door to the motel, so neither of you had to stay sober enough to drive home, and you’d both been well and truly shit-faced. You’d hustled a small fortune playing pool; he’d sung karaoke, and there were tequila shots… lots and lots of tequila shots.

A snore from behind you made you freeze. It sounded like Dean, but that couldn’t be right. Why would you and Dean be in the same bed? Whoever it was rolled over and slid their arm over your waist, pulling you into their body. You could feel something hard poke the back of your thigh… at least he’s packing, you thought before the mystery man spoke.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Suddenly, the whole night’s events come flooding back to you at once.

One tequila shot turned into two. Two turned to four. Four turned to six, and before you knew it, you were stumbling through the door to Dean’s room, lips attached to his, nails raking through his hair and over his scalp and neck, tongues dancing a passionate tango while your clothes flew in every direction.

Dean made love to you so deliciously good. He was sweet and gentle at times. Rough and hard when you needed it. In all the years you’d known him, this was the first time you’d ended up in his bed, yet he knew your body better than you did. 

The green-eyed hunter had known how to pleasure you better than anyone had before him. Touching places no one had ever touched before. Taking you higher than you’d ever been, making you scream his name so loud the occupant next door had banged the wall.

It’s overwhelming, and you can feel last night’s alcohol swirl dangerously in your stomach, threatening to make an appearance. You lifted the covers and glanced down. Yep, definitely naked.

Pulling the sheet tighter to your body, you cautiously turn around, your worst fear confirmed as Dean’s twinkling green orbs and cocky smirk greet you.

“Well, this changes things!” he grins, and you can’t decide if you want to punch his painfully beautiful face or kiss him.

“Oh, God!” you gasp, covering your face with your hands. “This can’t be happening.”

“Y/N?” Dean asks, concern evident in his voice. “You okay?”

“I can’t believe I did you—I mean that. I can’t believe I did that,” you mumble.

“Come on, don’t be like that! We had a great time. I got you off six times, sweetheart! That’s a personal record for me!”

Dean’s words are meant to be comforting, but they do the opposite and only embarrass you more. The urge to kiss him is gone, leaving you wanting to punch his painfully beautiful, smug face.

“Seriously, Y/N, are you okay? Did I hurt you in any way? Did you not want that to happen? Because I gotta say, you were all over me at the bar, and I get that we had a lot of tequila and were drunk, but I thought you wanted me, too?”

Now that Dean had put his cocky persona aside and the real Dean was in the room, you’d changed your mind again and wanted to kiss him.

“No, Dean. I wanted it to happen. I have for an embarrassingly long time. What I don’t want is to be just another notch on your bedpost. It’s why I’ve never given in to your very persuasive charms over the years. Because I want to be more than just one night to you. And I know that’s not what you want—”

“Woah, Y/N, slow down!” Dean shot up on the bed and turned you to face him. “Did you not hear me when I said this changes things? Do you honestly think I’d risk what we have for one night? I’ve wanted you since the day we met, and last night was the first time since we met that you’ve shown any interest in me. And sweetheart, I haven’t been shy in pulling out my best moves for you.” His words and body language are so expressive and genuine, and you know he’s not feeding you a line. He likes you and he’s wanted you for a long time. All of his flirting and come-ons were real.

“And I thought ‘this is it. I finally get to call her my girl’. Maybe I shouldn’t have followed through with it when we were drunk, but I don’t regret taking my chance with you. Please tell me you don’t regret what happened.” Dean cups your cheeks to keep your gaze on his. The pain crossing his features breaks your heart. You want to tell him you feel the same way, but it’s risky.

“Honestly, I don’t remember much from last night, just bits and pieces, but I know enough to know that if that happened, I wanted it to happen,” you say, trying to ignore the look of Dean’s disappointment at your lack of memory from the night before.

“Do you really want me?” you ask, terrified this was a tequila-induced dream.

“Since the day I met you. And if you’re interested, I’d like to see where we’d go. Together. As a couple.” For once, Dean looks incredibly shy and vulnerable, making your heart swell.

“I’d like that too, De,” you smile, giggling when he grins boyishly.

“Yeah?” he checks, and you nod.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“Then, I think you should lay back and let me refresh your memory of last night,” Dean grins as he gently pushes you back down on the mattress and pulls your legs apart.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720