#and the second time i watched some from the middle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bytemee · 16 hours ago

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KILLIN’ IT GIRL — yu jimin.

♫ playing… killin' it girl by j-hope.

synopsis. you’re an F1 driver who used to feel alive doing 200 down a straight with nothing but instinct keeping you from flying off the track. but after the crash, something in you just . . . flatlined. so you come back home—burned out, bruised, and pretending it’s just for a break. it’s not long before your best friend jeno drags you out to some dockside race to show you back to your roots.

you tell yourself you show up out of habit, not interest. and that’s where you meet a cocky street racer who supposedly has the skills to back up the talk—a girl with a matte black silvia and a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

suddenly, you’re chasing something again—but it’s not a trophy this time—it’s her.

pairing. f1 racer!fem!reader x street racer!karina

genre. romance, slow burn, street racing au.

disclaimer(s). mild language, they want each other sooooooooo badddddddd, ion really watch f1 chat so idek how that goes down … 💔, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, r is so whipped bru.. and let me know if there’s more!

word count. 12.6k

authors note. my ex liked cars. i like my ex. wait im getting off topic.. chat!! #byteback 😛 also i hate this oneshot but ive been teasing it so i shall give it to you guys.

"and now coming into turn seven, it's y/l/n, hugging the inside lane for position. oh my god, she's keeping pressure on the red bull car into the chicane. is she insane?" one of the announcers sounds impressed, while the other sounds absolutely terrified. "she's still pressuring the red bull into the chicane!"

you watch your own car tuck tighter around the corner than it should've been able to, chassis flexing hard, tires practically squealing against the curb, apex kissed so clean it almost looks planned. but you remember that moment; you weren't planning. you were chasing, chasing so hard you ignored the voices of your pit crew screaming through your headphones to back off, to not take that line, to give yourself room for error.

although, in your eyes, the car ahead pulled just wide enough, leaving an opening no wider than a heartbeat, and your body moved before your brain could argue. "she's going for it! SHE'S GOING FOR IT! into turn nine now! she's still right there—"

"there's no room—she's got no room! can she even hold that?!"

your breath catches right where it did the first time, even though you already know how it ends. the screen stutters slightly, the shaky camera from the rear wing of the red bull car picking up a flash of red surging into the shot—your ferrari nosing into a space so small it shouldn't exist. the crowd volume through the feed surges so loud it sounds like a wave, a deafening roar from 100,000 voices.

"she's taking it! OH MY GOD—she's inside! Y/L/N IS INSIDE INTO TURN NINE—"

that's when the back end lifts. not much, just enough. the front-left tire clips the curb, and the whole car shifts wrong. the front skids, dragging sideways as you try to catch it, but the angle's already broken and your speed's too much. your gut dropped like you missed a stair, fingers tightening around the steering wheel, and mind blanking for a split second.

"she's lost grip—rear end is sliding—she's—oh, no—NO—she's airborne—!"

the screen flashes white for a beat as the camera loses focus, debris scattering like ash across the track. the next angle is a long shot, brutal and slow: your car spinning mid air like a goddamn coin toss. your chassis clips the barrier, sending the back end fishtailing in the opposite direction, and then your car crumples against the curb with the sound of metal tearing and a crunch so loud you can feel it vibrating through the screen.

your body twists against the harness, your head snapping forward before being thrown back into the seat as the car slams to a stop. then the entire field is moving, the cars behind you slowing as they weave around the wreckage while your car continues to spin slowly to a halt in the middle of the track.

"y/l/n into the barrier—massive crash at nine! red flag immediately! that's a red—call the medics—call the damn medics now—!"

you pause it there. you don't need to see the rest. you remember the way that car felt as it wrapped itself around you. how your ears rang as you sat there, stunned, trying to get the seatbelt unbuckled so you could climb out. how you ended up flat on your ass on the pavement, helmet off, vision blurred from the smoke of the fire, and couldn't even find it in you to be mad.

the f1 car was a write-off; there was no salvaging anything from that mess. meaning the team will have to start from scratch, building a brand new machine for you to race next season.

your phone buzzes from the armrest. you pause the video and answer it without checking the id, too focused on what you were watching to care.

"are you still watching yourself almost die like it's porn?" jeno's voice comes through with a small chuckle.

you scoff, leaning back in your seat. "it's for analysis," you mutter.

jeno lets out a scoff himself in response, and you can hear the subtle eye roll in his voice when he speaks again. "you're on your mom's couch watching yourself crash for the fiftieth time. that's not analysis. that's depression, my friend."

your mouth tilts upward slightly. he always did know how to needle just right. you lean your head back against the couch cushion, letting your neck stretch and your mind idle. "what do you want?"

"i'm five minutes out," he says. "put on something pretty for me, yeah?"

you glance toward the hallway, where your bedroom door is half-open and your duffel bag sits untouched since the day you came home. it's only been two and a half days, but it feels like an eternity has passed since then. "what if i said no?"

"then i tell everyone ferrari's softest girl's too scared to show her face back where she started."

your brow creases slightly. that was a cheap shot, but it was also very, very effective. because you soon push off the couch, stretching out the stiffness that's taken up permanent residence in your shoulders. "fine. give me five."

"make it three."

you hang up.

your bedroom is exactly the same. posters of old tracks, yellowing at the corners, and trophies collecting dust on every available surface. a closet full of racing jackets you grew out of ages ago but never threw away. a stack of textbooks from when you were in high school that you couldn't bring yourself to get rid of, even though they're covered in years' worth of grime. even the sheets on your bed are the same—a faded red and white plaid that's been washed so many times the colors are starting to blend together.

the only thing that's different is the duffel bag open on the floor in the middle of your bedroom hallway. you still can't bring yourself to unpack it. can't even stand to look at it for too long before you feel the itch under your skin to leave again. it's not that you don't want to be here; it's that everything feels like a half-step behind where you need it to be.

the sound of a car engine pulling up outside jolts you from your thoughts. you grab your cap off the edge of your desk as you head for the door, tucking it over your messy hair without much thought. the night air bites as you step out, the streetlights flickering in the distance. jeno honks once, obnoxious as ever, grinning at you through the open window.

"took you long enough," he calls.

"had to mourn my dignity," you mutter, sliding into the passenger seat.

jeno laughs as he shifts into gear, taking off down the street so fast you fall back into your seat. you shoot him a glare before resting your elbow on the window and staring out as the houses blur past. jeno's talking—he always is, but it blends into white noise. you can only hear the rush of air through the open window, the rumble of the engine as he shifts, and the clink of metal on metal with every movement.

"you're brooding," he says, glancing sideways. "i thought you were supposed to be happy to be back. you missed this town, didn't you? maranello not hitting it for you anymore?"

"no," you say, shaking your head. jeno speeds through a yellow light, swearing under his breath as he hits the gas. "it's not that."

jeno scoffs, rolling his eyes so hard he almost turns into another lane. "if it's not that, then what is it, huh?"

you don't answer. just reach forward and turn the radio up, eyes never leaving his as you do. jeno sighs, lips pressing together as he focuses back on the road.

you can smell it before you hear it: the familiar stench of burning rubber and smoke. the sound comes next with a roar of engines and a commotion of voices—and just past the rusted chain-link gate, the scene spills open like a wound: people swarming, cars idling with their doors thrown wide, and kids hanging off the sides to get a better look.

"looks the same," you mutter.

"feels the same," jeno says. "that's what matters."

he swings the car into a spot near the perimeter, not too close to the action but close enough to be noticed. as he kills the engine, you shove the door open and step out, rolling your shoulders back, adjusting your hat so it sits low over your eyes. people are everywhere, packed shoulder to shoulder, murmuring under their breath, or crowding around hoods. the engines are still warm, some still ticking. it smells like tire smoke, gasoline, and whatever someone's smoking down the lot. for a second, it almost feels like you never left.

there are a few glances in your direction as you make your way through the crowd, but they're fleeting, as if the person's eyes skim past you and then snap back once they realize who you are. jeno trails behind you, keeping his mouth shut for once as you weave between the bodies.

"jeno!" someone shouts from deeper in the crowd. a guy near a souped-up miata raises a hand, already grinning wide. "you asshole, i thought you were in dallas."

"was," jeno says, mouth tilting up. "thought i'd come take everyone's money at the races tonight instead."

he claps hands with the guy, and you get pulled into their circle by proximity. there's a little overlap of greetings: nods, chin lifts, and half-familiar faces from a past you mostly raced through. "wait," another voice cuts in, a girl with short braids and a vape in hand. "hold up. . . jeno, is this who i think it is?"

all eyes flick to you. it takes every inch of your racing nerves not to stiffen.

"damn," she says, grinning. "you really showed up in that loud-ass ferrari hat like you want people to recognize you. subtle's not your thing, huh?"

"fuck you," you say easily, a smile playing at your lips, "i'm blending."

"with what? a traffic flare?"

laughter ripples through the group, but it's not mean. jeno grins, wide and crooked and mischievous, and the group soon falls into a steady conversation that you really have no input in, so, naturally, you zone out. your eyes scan the spread of cars, your eyes falling onto a turbocharged civic that looks like it's been stripped and rebuilt by hand. it's an ugly hunk of metal, but if you squint hard enough, you can see the potential.

then your eyes drift more until they land on something else—something entirely different from the rest. a matte black silvia parked at a slight angle, almost like it's intentionally being antagonistic to the other cars around it. the light catches the black paint and makes it look iridescent, and it takes you a moment to realize that there's no one standing beside it, no one with their hands on the hood or admiring the interior.

the driver's seat is empty.

you step away from the crowd, letting jeno's voice fade into the background as you weave through the mass of bodies closer to the silvia. you walk up to it slowly, studying it. no flash, no decals, but the widebody is just aggressive enough to make a statement. god, you need to see what's under the hood. it's calling out to you.

you squat slightly at the side, inspecting the suspension with one hand braced on your knee.

"if you're gonna stare at her ass that hard," a voice calls out, "at least buy her dinner first."

you blink. straighten up slowly as you look around for the source of the voice. she's leaning against the side of the silvia, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression on her face. if you didn't know any better, you'd say she looks a little smug.

you raise an eyebrow, giving her a toothless smile. "i was more interested in her front end," you say, standing up. "but hey. to each their own, i guess."

she cocks her head slightly, eyes dragging over your cap. "f1 driver's got jokes?" she muses. she shifts her weight, uncrossing her arms to stuff them into the pockets of her jacket.

"how'd you guess? did the logo give it away?" you fire back, not missing a beat, your fingertips grazing the logo on the front of your cap.

"no," she replies. "the ego. and unfortunately i've seen your face before."

you laugh under your breath. you like her immediately.

you break eye contact, looking back at the car. "it's a clean build," you say, glancing back at karina. "i can appreciate that. but do you drive her or just stand around making assumptions?"

she pushes off the car, one hand sliding across the hood like it's a reflex. "i drive her. and i win."

you glance sideways at her. "then maybe i'll stick around," you murmur. "see what all the fuss is about."

you turn away from her, eyes falling onto another car, pretending not to watch the way she lingers. a supra this time. too much going on with the paint, too little done under the hood. you scan it absently, but your focus is half there, half on the girl standing behind you before walking over to another car.

your phone vibrates. jeno's name flashes across the screen, accompanied by a string of texts.

jeno Bro where'd u go Race is starting U see that supra? LMAO it's got a fake widebody 😭

you look up, already moving. jeno's not far; you see him posted near a group gathered around the line-up chart, his arms crossed, phone still in one hand. he sees you and straightens up. "there you are," he says as you walk up. "you miss me?"

you shove your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, letting out a hum that sounds like a laugh. jeno doesn't bother asking where you went, just jerks his thumb toward the small commotion ahead. your eyes follow the noise—some guy with a shaved head pacing near a couple of parked cars, voice raised, clearly pissed. he's got a phone in one hand, gesturing with the other like someone's supposed to magically appear and fix his problem.

then his eyes lock on jeno.

"yo! you," the guy barks, already walking over. "you running tonight or what?"

jeno holds up his palms immediately, backing off. "nah, i'm just here to lose money tonight."

the guy groans, annoyed, eyes shifting to you. "what about you?"

you shrug. "i can race."

he pauses. he looks you up and down, and you catch the twitch in his brow when it clicks. he knows who you are. of course he does. but he doesn't comment on it, just nods, running his fingers along the bottom of his chin.

jeno turns to you, eyebrow raised. "you serious right now?"

you don't even answer. just reach out your hand, and he sighs before tossing you his keys like he knew this was coming the moment you showed up.

"full tank. tires are fresh. don't make me regret it."

"no promises."

you're halfway to the car when he calls after you. "you remember how to drive without a radio guy screaming in your ear?"

you throw him a look over your shoulder. "guess we're about to find out."

the supra purrs to life under your hands. it's not like your ferrari. that thing needed finesse, tight hands, and the kind of control that came from years of hearing people yell in your ear through a headset. this car? this one wants to be thrown around. it wants to be taken on the kind of ride you only take once in a lifetime, the kind that leaves you breathless and bruised and feeling like you got hit by a truck.

your fingers flex against the steering wheel as you get to the line, and the driver next to you glances your way before shifting in his seat, hands settling just above the gearshift. she's loud, just a little bit messy, but fast in the way that makes your teeth itch. it's no wonder jeno treats this thing like his baby.

the crowd's tightening near the makeshift strip now, cones barely keeping people from stepping into the path of the cars. it feels like every eye in the place is on you, even though you know that it's probably true (not your ego talking here)—most of them are waiting to see if this chick with the fancy f1 cap actually knows what she's doing.

you pull the supra up to the line, and then, damn, you hear it before you see it. that low purr of the silvia as she pulls up right beside you, and when you glance over, you almost laugh. she's leaning back against the headrest like she's not even taking this seriously, and you watch as her eyes slide from the crowd to the line in front of her.

flag girl steps up.

then karina turns her head with a grin so sharp you can feel it against your skin and says, "you're actually running. that's cute." she says, her voice casual through the crack in her window.

you don't even blink. "mhm. hope you're ready to lose then? just take it well' because sore losers are kind of a turnoff," you shoot back.

karina's laugh is low and soft as she shifts her weight, rolling down the window slightly more so you can see the amused look on her face. "i'll show you a sore loser if that's what you're really after."

you raise an eyebrow. it's like she's forgetting who's got the bigger horsepower between the two of you, but you don't call her out on it because that's almost cute—how she thinks she's still got a shot.

the flag goes up.

you blink once.

the flag drops.

and you're gone. the world around you becomes noise with wind in your hair and your foot pressed down. the supra kicks hard under the wheel, vibrating in time with the rumbling roar of the engine. this part's easy, a well-oiled instinct: your eyes glancing up in the rearview, then the front view, your peripheral focused on the other cars on the line with you. you take note of how they position themselves and how much they push. how they want to play it.

karina's right there, holding. you can feel her more than you can see her, the pressure of her car riding yours, matching pace, not backing off. but when your ears catch what happens before your brain even registers what the sound is, you glance up, smiling.

there's a hesitation in the silvia's rhythm, a half-second where her engine note flinches, like karina came up just a little too fast on the clutch or didn't match the revs as cleanly as she meant to. it's the kind of thing most people would chalk up to nothing, but you know better, because you've lived in the cracks of moments like that.

she doesn't lose control. not even close. but the car pulls weird for a second, like it's trying to find its feet again, and in that exact moment, the door cracks open.

so you take it.

you downshift fast, drop to the inside, and push past her before she can close the space. it's close, your headlights almost kissing the tail of her car. but it works. she has to tap her brakes to avoid getting caught up in your draft. that buys you a few inches, and those inches become a few feet. but of course she doesn't let it slide. she pushes harder now, right on your tail again, refusing to let you walk away with it. you're both taking turns hot on the inside.

she's a goddamn terror.

there are two kinds of drivers: the ones who know they're going to win the race and the ones who won't be denied a victory. it's always obvious when a driver falls into one of these camps. some will stay in formation all the way to the checkered flag, biding their time and waiting for a mistake that never comes. they have a sort of patience to them. a restraint. that kind of racing is measured. controlled. almost surgical. it's about strategy, finesse, and execution.

then there are those who want to take a victory right from the jaws of a loss. they push to the edge of what they know, but never over it, and it's obvious why they do it. that kind of racing isn't about the end goal; it's about the rush of the journey. it's about knowing just how far you can push your limits and doing it anyway. it's about making the whole world hold their breath while you test them.

karina's not patient. she's reckless, aggressive, and absolutely fucking beautiful. she takes what she wants. she pushes as hard as she needs.

and she never stops. not when she's on a roll, not when her engine is struggling, and certainly not when you're both neck-and-neck for a third time tonight. anyone else would've lost grip by now, but she's got something to prove. you can feel it through the way her engine screams behind you, desperate to close the gap.

soon the final straight comes into view, and you push your supra hard, your car growling and bucking and struggling under your hands as you keep the revs as high as you can handle. the silvia is right on your tail, both of you locked in an intense battle for the lead, and for a brief moment you can feel karina's eyes on you through her side mirror.

you cross first. not by much—but enough.

your foot eases off the gas as you breathe again, letting the car slow down gradually so she doesn't stall. your head is spinning slightly with a cocktail of adrenaline and disbelief at the fact that this race was more fun than it should have been. this wasn't about winning—that part just felt good—this was about feeling alive.

and, god, you feel more alive than you have in years.

it takes a while before you finally roll the supra to a stop on the grass, the crowd spilling from the sidelines now. you sit there for a moment, head thrown back against the seat as you let your eyes close, just trying to breathe.

people are banging on your car now, congratulating you through the glass, and some are even walking over to inspect it, but you don't pay them much mind, too caught up in how you feel right now. you won. and you actually won it. no crash. no penalties. no one is telling you not to celebrate like it means nothing.

the driver's door wrenches open. jeno is there, grinning so hard his eyes almost close. "look at you," he says, clapping you on the shoulder. "fucking incredible, right?"

you laugh breathlessly as jeno puts his hands on your shoulder, tugging you forward. you let yourself be dragged out of the car and into jeno's arms, letting yourself breathe as you press your cheek into the front of his jacket, letting yourself just be there for a moment. you don't let yourself dwell on the feeling much; your adrenaline is too high for anything other than grinning so hard it hurts.

but you see her. standing off to the side of the commotion. hood up, head ducked under it. she glances at you for only a second before looking away again. your feet carry you over without asking your brain if that's a good idea, but you can't help it—the rush is making you bolder than you've been in a while, so you take it. you let yourself close the distance until she turns and looks you square in the eye, expression unreadable, fingers twitching at her sides.

"rough night?" you offer, a stupid, satisfied grin on your face.

karina exhales, breaking the contact, and closes her hood. "shut up," she says, avoiding your eyes.

"you misfired on third," you point out. "too quick on the clutch. she didn't catch."

"yeah, i know," she snaps, then sighs.

"i could take a look," you add.

she narrows her eyes.

"i don't need help."

"never said you did," you smile. "but i'm bored, and my ego's already full."

she raises an eyebrow, eyes flickering down to your lips as if she doesn't even know she's doing it, but then she catches herself. "you're a pain," she says.

"so i've been told."

she grins. "i bet you have," she says. "although, i have a mechanic. thanks, but i'll pass."

she turns, hair whipping, and you watch her leave without a word. you're still standing there, just like that, staring like she hung the damn moon. you don't know if it's because of the race, because of the high, because of her, or maybe it's a combination of everything. whatever the reason is, it leaves you grinning stupidly, standing alone by her car with nothing to say.

it's hot in the garage. like, if the devil lived somewhere, he'd probably choose somewhere that felt exactly like this. to make it worse, your shirt's clinging in places, and your hands are permanently stained with grease no matter how many times you wipe them on the rag tucked into your waistband. you've got half your body leaned under the hood of some beat-up genesis that jeno swore he'd fix up before graduation . . . he graduated years ago. so now you're left with the mess.

your dad's inside handling customers like he always does. very friendly, too friendly, because he talks too much, and his voice echoes through the small space like an air raid siren. he means well, truly. you're not really paying attention until the bell over the front door jingles and you hear him call out, voice lit up with recognition.

"jimin! you're early—bring the car?"

jimin?

your brow creases. who's jimin?

"thought i'd beat the heat. hope that's okay."

you freeze. blink once. then pull your head out from under the hood just enough to see her standing there. in the flesh. karina. she looks different out of the racing scene, somehow. you're not sure how, exactly, but it's definitely the case. it's something about how she's wearing her hair loose, something about how the lines on her face seem to relax without the adrenaline to hold her up.

you quickly get from under the car, a panic in your joints as you busy yourself with... absolutely nothing. karina...jimin? she doesn't see you yet—your back's to her, and you don't speak because you know you'd start to ramble if you opened your mouth.

"one of the kids outside can pull it in if you want," your dad says. "mine's under that genesis right now."

karina squints. you don't move.

"your kid?" she asks, curious.

your dad jerks a thumb toward you. "right there."

you turn slowly, dragging the back of your hand across your jaw. "hey."

karina stares, blinks. for a beat, she doesn't say anything. she just takes you in, looks you over, like she didn't expect you to be the person standing behind that genesis. which, fair—you hadn't exactly expected this either. but other than that, it's more of your appearance: the white shirt, the old hat, the dark stain of engine oil on the front of your chest, and the sweat clinging to your temples. it's definitely different.

her lips part like she's gonna say something slick, but she fumbles it. it's almost funny. "you're... you're his kid?"

"didn't expect that, huh?"

she recovers fast, folding her arms with a smirk. "explains the attitude."

"explains the driving," you shoot back, wiping your hands off on the rag. "didn't know you brought your car here."

"didn't know you were here; would've never thought you knew how to get your hands dirty."

you shrug, "i didn't think my dad was your mechanic."

"he's been good to my car," she says, and you can hear the grin in her voice. "better than you were last night."

your laugh comes out as a sharp laugh, and you finally step back, moving away from her to create space for one of the workers to pull the car into a free space in the garage. you take another step back and turn your head to the side, trying to calm your racing pulse as you watch the two men guide her silvia into the spot right beside the genesis and lock the brakes.

karina watches quietly as well, arms folded over her chest as she follows their movements like a hawk, and she doesn't even move once they get off, like she's afraid to breathe on it wrong. it almost makes you laugh if you weren't so goddamn charmed by it.

"started pulling left in third," she says finally, stepping in beside you. "feels like it's dragging."

you crouch again, grabbing a flashlight and a few tools and lying flat on the creeper as you slide under her car without missing a beat. "you hit something?"

"just your ego."

you let out a quiet snort, tightening a bolt. "still intact, thanks."

there's silence from above, then a low laugh. "you always this hands-on?" her voice is closer now, almost above you.

you reach up toward a bracket without thinking. "depends. you into that?"

"a little too into it," she says, and the smirk is audible. "watching you handle a wrench like that kinda makes me wanna climb into the passenger seat. or your lap. whichever's closer."

your brain short-circuits. you stop moving for a second—just a second—but it's enough. you turn your head a little too fast to look at her, and—clank—your skull connects hard with the edge of the frame.

"ow—shit!" you yank back instantly, hand flying to your forehead. "god—damn it—"

"oh my god," she laughs, but she's already crouching next to you. "did you seriously just knock yourself out because i said i'd sit on your lap?"

"technically," you mutter, squeezing one eye shut as you wince, sliding out from under the car as quickly as you can without giving yourself whiplash or a concussion. you prop yourself up on one hand as you run the other through your hair with a wince. "it was the delivery that got me."

"you're ridiculous."

you hum for a second, eyes trailing over her before you look up with a grin. "i love how much you feed into my degrading kink," you teasingly mutter.

ignoring your comment her eyes drop to your forehead, where you can already feel the beginnings of a knot forming just under the hairline, her eyes softening. without warning she leans over, hand on the creeper and fingertips brushing your skin, and you have to bite back the groan of pain that almost leaves you as she inspects it, tongue peeking out between her lips in concentration.

"and you're bleeding a little," she points out, reaching for you without hesitation. her fingers brush your temple, gentle, warm. your heart stutters a bit. curse pretty girls.

"you check all your mechanics this close, or just the ones under your hood?" you mutter, trying to sound amused, not affected.

she scoffs, pulling her hand back, but not before her thumb lingers for just a second longer than it has to. "just the ones who slam their heads like amateurs."

"cute coming from someone who nearly stripped third gear last night."

that earns a real reaction. her eyes flash as her mouth twitches into a half-smile. she looks happy. and it's like you just saw the sun set for the first time in years. "you really want to go there?"

"do you?" you're grinning now.

she shakes her head, rolling her eyes to the point they might actually fall out of her head. "if i pour brake fluid on you, do you think that'll fix your attitude?"

"i mean, i've heard worse foreplay."

there's a pause. you hear her exhale sharply through her nose, biting down a smile before she finally steps back, head shaking. "fix my car."

"yes, ma'am." you wink, leaning back again and getting back under her car before she can see your red face.

she stands there for a second, clearly caught off guard and a little more flustered than she's willing to admit, but she covers it up with a glare and walks off toward the front of the shop where your dad is and goes to talk to him instead of dealing with the fact that she just tried to make you choke on your own tongue.

it doesn't take long to fix up her transmission. the drag isn't bad, and the knocking she's been feeling isn't something she should be worried about. still, it's easy money. your dad comes around the corner while you're tucking the rag into the side pocket, wiping your hands on the bottom of your shirt.

"she's all fixed, no charge."

karina narrows her eyes immediately. "i'm paying," she insists.

he chuckles. "no, no—we're calling it an early birthday present."

you snort, taking your rag out of your pocket and tossing it onto the workbench. karina rolls her eyes, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket and smiling a little. it's a real smile.

"thanks," she says.

"of course. don't hesitate to bring her back, okay?"

she nods. you're not sure if she even hears the question. he turns and goes back inside.

it's quiet for a few seconds.

you kick the leg of the creeper with the toe of your boot, sliding the tool out from under her car. she watches as you slide the tray back under the genesis, the same genesis you spent an hour fumbling with earlier, and the entire time you're silent, just listening to the click-clack of her heel on the floor.

"that's an old genesis." she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"my friend left it here years ago. kinda had no choice but to try and do something with it."

"your friend the same person that bet 30k on you yesterday night?" she muses.

"what can i say? he believes in me."

she lets out a chuckle, tilting her head and squinting as she takes you in. "you ever think about what you'd do if you weren't racing?" her voice is softer, more curious than challenging.

you glance over, caught off guard for a second, but you meet her eyes without hesitation. "not really. this is who i am, i guess."

she makes a noise like an agreement. it's so low, it could be a purr. she's quiet after that, but the silence isn't awkward; it's almost thoughtful, like she's still processing it or maybe just deciding on the words.

she glances at her feet, then back to you, then to her feet again. "there's a car meet happening at the beach tonight."

you tilt your head a bit, curious. "yeah?"

she nods, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "yeah. no racing, just people showing off their rides, stuff like that."

"i've never seen a car meet without at least one street race."

she grins. "there'll be beer and bonfire food. we can play some music and pretend to get drunk, then stumble home."

you narrow your eyes a little. "i don't remember saying i was going."

karina shrugs, her hands still stuffed in the pockets of her jacket as she leans back against her car. "you didn't," she says, tilting her head just enough for her hair to catch the light, "but you're not saying no either."

you huff, the corner of your mouth twitching despite your best effort to keep your expression flat. "confident."

a shrug. her grin is crooked. it makes your heart pound. "gotta have some kind of ego if i wanna drive the way i do."

"sure. i can meet you there, right?"

"don't make me wait."

"never," you whisper, giving her a half-hearted salute.

"mmm, don't flirt with me."

you let your smile drop, your hand dropping from your forehead. "i'm...trying."

"see ya later, hotshot." she tosses a smirk over her shoulder as she climbs into the driver's seat, leaving you staring.

the silvia roars to life. she pulls out of the garage and drives off.

you stand there a moment longer. staring. trying to get a hold of yourself. then you turn on your heel and head inside the office, wiping the grease from the corner of your lip and shaking your head.

you end up taking a taxi, telling yourself it's just to get some air, just to pass time. but when you get dropped off a block away from the meet and hear the bass from the beach thumping through the pavement, you know exactly what you're doing. it's the kind of energy you'd follow anywhere.

the parking lot is empty, but the stretch of sand isn't. cars, bodies, and firelight span as far as your eyes can see. the smell of gasoline and weed permeates the air, mixing with the distant sounds of crashing waves and the pulsing bass coming from the speakers parked near the road. it's been a while since you've seen a gathering this big, but somehow it feels like the exact thing you need tonight.

you wander. taking everything in. you've only been to the beach twice, but it's changed since you were a kid. it's like there's a sense of familiarity and distance at once—like it's yours but also isn't—and the thought of being somewhere between a place and a memory makes your chest ache.

you're halfway through the crowd when something familiar stops you.

that silvia.

it stands out in the mess of cars, black paint sparkling like stars in the glow of the fires, and suddenly your palms start to sweat, heartbeat skipping, a feeling that's become increasingly common since last night. you move forward, letting the crowd close the distance behind you, until finally your footsteps crunch against the sand.

you glance around, half expecting to see her leaning against it, smug smile and all. but there's no sign of her. you move past a group of people crowded around a vintage skyline, still looking. a couple of them eye you as you pass, maybe recognizing you, maybe wondering who the hell you think you are walking through the lot without an invitation.

you're too preoccupied with finding a pretty face in the middle of all the pretty cars to even notice.

there are a few dozen faces around, laughing and drinking, but no one you want to look at.

"you lost or just looking for me?"

you turn, and there she is, standing a few feet back with a bottle in her hand, eyebrow raised, wearing the kind of smile that tells you she knew exactly how long you've been here, looking for her. she steps in closer and offers you the bottle, her gaze dropping to your mouth.

your throat is dry, suddenly. "depends. you hiding from me?"

she takes another step closer. you're close enough to see the fire reflecting off the silver rings on her fingers. close enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin. "why would i do that?" she murmurs.

you swallow. hard. a shrug, nonchalant, and you reach for the bottle in her hand. your fingers brush, fuzzy and tender, and the touch is electric. your skin feels alive.

"come on," she says.

you go.

and you're not exactly sure how long you and karina end up walking side by side, weaving between rows of cars and half-tipsy strangers showing off their mods. you don't say much; you mostly just walk next to each other, close enough that you could bump shoulders.

she glances up at you. you glance at her. and it goes like that: the two of you trading glances until you get to a pink nissan 350z, and you take a step closer, trying to mask your curiosity by keeping your expression passive, neutral, and bored.

but your eyes flick over it, unintentionally admiring. there's a small chip in the front bumper and some minor damage on the side. still, it's a beautiful car—the kind of beautiful that can't be denied. "that's..."

"giselle's," karina says, amused by your awe.

"you didn't tell me you knew her," you murmur, crouching just slightly to take in the angle of the spoiler. "jesus, this thing is ridiculous."

karina's eyes flick sideways. "you like it?"

"i'd marry it."

she laughs. the sound is different from the sharp, low noise you heard her make the first time you saw her. it's soft and melodic. you didn't think a laugh could ever make you feel this warm inside.

karina's still smiling when you stand again, brushing your hands on the sides of your jeans.

you try to keep your breathing steady, but her gaze is distracting.

you stretch your neck a little, trying not to overthink it. "what?" you ask.

"nothing." her voice is light. playful. she's lying.

you roll your eyes. she snorts, grabbing you by the wrist. and you follow, letting her pull you back toward the beach, her palm pressed flat to yours.

the breeze picks up, pushing you gently forward. she doesn't let go. her fingers slot perfectly between yours, and when she pulls you into a circle, the warmth spreads through you, sinking deep into your bones.

"you're secretly soft." you break the silence with a hushed whisper, as if not wanting to shatter the moment.

karina arches a brow, a smile tugging at her lips. you can see a challenge glimmering in her eyes, like she wants to prove you wrong but also prove you right.

she tightens her grip.

tilts her head.

and her voice is barely a whisper as she leans in closer and says, "you wish, hotshot."

and then she turns, still holding your hand, guiding you through the thinning crowd. you don't ask where you're going. you don't care. you'd follow her anywhere right now.

eventually, you stop beside the silvia, parked on the edge of the lot, closest to the sand. her windows are cracked. the scent of ocean air floods your senses. karina turns toward you, letting her eyes slide over your face, her gaze lingering on the bridge of your nose, then dipping to your mouth, before moving back up towards your eyes.

"you wanna drive?"

you blink. "what?"

she nods toward the silvia. "wanna drive?"

your heartbeat skips, but you keep it under control. "you're joking."

"i'm not."

you stare at her for a second, speechless. you could swear she's enjoying herself. you shift, stepping away and taking in the sight of the car again. the black paint, the lowered stance.

"yeah." you pause. look her in the eyes, almost scared that if you don't hold her gaze, this will all turn out to be a dream. "yeah, i wanna drive."

the smile on her face is instant, her dimples making her cheeks look full, her eyes glinting. she tosses you the keys, and you catch them with both hands like they might shatter if they hit the ground.

getting into her silvia feels weird—personal, intimate, like stepping into a home that isn't yours. but when she slides in beside you, settling into the passenger seat with a satisfied hum, all that worry fades away.

she looks at you, leaning back in the chair with her arms crossed and a knowing grin playing on her lips. "let's see what you got, hotshot," she muses, turning to stare ahead.

it doesn't matter that the silvia's a few years old or that her leather is starting to peel. the engine is powerful and responsive. she runs so clean you'd swear she just rolled off the factory line. when you open her up, you hear the v6 rev, a throaty, sexy sound.

"oh shit, is that a coyote?" you murmur, your foot easing off the accelerator and tapping the brakes.

she scoffs, almost sounding offended. "what? like you weren't already in love."

"never said i wasn't," you say, the corner of your mouth lifting. "just didn't expect you to actually have a proper engine in this thing. figured you'd have some gerbil running around a wheel, getting fat off all those rotations."

her brow twitches. she looks amused. "is that really how you're gonna talk while sitting behind the wheel of my baby?"

you grin.

she narrows her eyes. "watch it."

you flex your fingers around the leather-covered steering wheel, still staring straight ahead, trying to resist the urge to tease her just a little bit more.

"okay," she says after a beat, glancing out the window like she's debating something. "take the next right."

you do, no hesitation.

the street curves, narrowing between trees and low apartment buildings. it's quiet, a bit too quiet after the meet, and you pull to the curb slowly, shifting the car into park. your foot lingers on the brake.

you don't move. not right away.

she glances at you, brow raised.

"what, waiting for applause?" she teases, already unclipping her seatbelt.

you shake your head, grinning as you kill the engine. "just soaking it in. that might be the most fun i've had all week."

karina hums like she doesn't believe you, but the way she looks at you says otherwise. she lets her fingers slip under the door handle and pushes it open, one knee popping out. and then her body follows.

you follow behind, walking her to the building, hand curled loosely around her keys, and when you stop, she turns to face you.

she holds her hand out. "keys."

you oblige, dropping them into her palm with a grin. "thanks for trusting me."

she smiles a bit. shakes her head.

there's a stretch of silence where the two of you are just sort of smiling at each other, neither of you wanting to look away or say anything, until you give her one last smile before pulling out your phone and plopping down onto the curb, unlocking it and clicking on your contact book.

karina cocks her head curiously.

"what are you doing?"

"calling a taxi," you mutter, not even looking up from your screen. "or an uber...maybe."

she stares at you like you just told her the earth is flat. karina blinks. "you're serious."

you glance up, thumbs still hovering over the screen. "uh. yeah?"

she lets out a quiet breath—somewhere between a scoff and a laugh—and takes a step closer. "you just drove my car like you were born in it, said it was the most fun you've had all week, and now you're gonna call a taxi? you're really gonna sit here like a sad little valet?"

you lower your phone. "okay, first of all, that's rude."

karina watches you for a beat longer, then sighs—exaggerated, dramatic—before jingling her keys and nodding toward the building.

"come up."

you hesitate.

"i'm not going to ask twice." her tone is firm.

you can't argue with her. so you take the bait and get up from the sidewalk, slipping the phone back into your pocket. she steps toward the entrance and pulls the door open, glancing over her shoulder just long enough to give you a look that tells you to follow, which you do.

the lobby is dark. she leads the way without stopping.

you end up following her up several flights of stairs, only letting out a small grunt once when the third-floor landing comes into view, the number stenciled onto the wall in silver. she doesn't hear you.

once you reach the landing, you can't help but glance around the space. it's nothing impressive: white walls, blue carpets, and light-colored lights blinking above, the hall empty save for the two of you. karina keeps going, doesn't break stride, and you match her pace without a word, not daring to disturb the quiet.

she stops at the door near the end of the corridor and reaches into her pocket. a jangle of metal, and she pops the key in the lock, twisting and turning, then nudging it open and stepping inside.

it's nice. nothing like your old place or the studio apartment you're renting now, but nice. homey. there are pillows on the sofa and books on the shelves. the scent of coffee lingers, and the table has a cute little flower-print runner. you've never been to a home that looks like this, not that you've been to many, anyway.

she doesn't stop to talk or even look back. she moves forward and slides off her jacket, tossing it on the countertop.

"so this is it," she murmurs, hands bracing the edge. "kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, balcony." she gestures. her nails are painted, chipping slightly.

"cute place," you say, not moving from the spot you're glued to. "suits you."

she scoffs. "is that a compliment?"

"maybe," you grin, scratching the back of your neck and rocking on your heels. "can't quite figure you out."

her eyes stay trained on the ground as a soft, dry laugh leaves her throat. "not hard," she shrugs. "i'm not that complicated." liar.

your eyes trail over the side of her face, trying to find something you're not sure even exists.

that's when something soft brushes against your leg.

you look down.

a fluffy black cat is winding itself through your legs, purring softly and blinking its golden eyes at you, as if welcoming you home.

"that's clementine," karina says, dropping her keys into the ceramic bowl by the door. "she's sassy."

you crouch slowly, hand out. clementine doesn't hesitate. she presses her little head into your palm like she's known you her whole life.

karina glances back and stares. "wow. okay. she never likes people that fast."

"guess she likes me."

karina makes a noncommittal noise as she walks to the kitchen and disappears around the corner.

you end up sitting on the couch with clementine stretched across your lap like a spoiled queen. she purrs so hard your thighs vibrate, her paws kneading at the hem of your hoodie, and you don't even realize how tired you are until your eyelids start to droop.

you shift a little, stretch your legs out, and blink slowly. you don't mean to let your eyes close, but your head tilts back against the cushion and your body goes heavy before you can stop it.

karina leans in the doorway, sipping from a glass she barely remembers filling. she takes one look at you, then glances over to the window and lets her eyes slide shut. she wants to tell you to go.

instead, she's trying to figure out when exactly the mood changed. you look too comfortable. it throws her off. and maybe she wants to be that comfortable, too.

karina lets herself look at you again, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, your hands curled loosely on clementine's sides. she should probably wake you, maybe even offer to buy you a ride home or something—

but, somehow, her feet carry her into the bathroom, where she moves through her routine on autopilot—brushing her teeth, washing her face, and tying her hair back. it's quiet, but her mind is loud, full of thoughts she doesn't want to name.

when she flicks off the light and walks barefoot toward her room, the house feels smaller somehow.

she slips under the covers, pulls the blanket up to her chest, and stares at the ceiling.

clementine's not at the foot of the bed like usual.

karina sighs.

"god," she mutters, shoving the blanket back and swinging her legs over the edge. she stands for a second, half-expecting herself to just grab a throw blanket and toss it over you. but the thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth. so she heads for the living room instead, one hand reaching out toward the wall to keep herself steady in the darkness.

karina pauses by the couch, peering at you. you're still asleep, one arm now tucked behind your head. she knows that if she wakes you up and tells you to leave, you will. if she says anything to you at all, really, you will.

so, karina doesn't bother with pretense.

"hey," she says softly, standing over you. "wake up."

you blink, squinting. "what..."

she crosses her arms. "you're not sleeping out here."

you make a noise—something between a yawn and a groan—and start to sit up. "sorry. i didn't mean to—"

karina cuts you off, picking up clementine from your lap and stepping to the side. you push yourself upright, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and mumbling another apology.

karina shakes her head, already turning toward the hallway. "c'mon."

you blink after her, still groggy. "huh?"

she looks at you like it was obvious. "to the room," she says, motioning for you to follow her.

the way she says it makes you wonder if maybe there's some double meaning that's getting lost between your brain and her words. you blink, feeling suddenly awake and nervous all at once.

but karina doesn't give you time to think about it, because she's already disappearing into her bedroom.

it's dark.

when she doesn't hear any footsteps, she flicks the lights on, illuminating her bedroom. a single bed rests against the wall, and a small dresser is pressed against the opposite wall.

"there's not really another room, or else i'd just give it to you, but...well," she says, setting clementine onto the bed, the black cat instantly curling up, as if making herself right at home.

she looks at you, and it's the first time tonight where she really seems to be considering the situation. you feel weird. you know you should say thanks or offer her some sort of gratitude, but all the words seem stuck in your throat.

"well," karina sighs, putting her hands on her hips. "you gonna stand there or...?"

"no, sorry," you quickly say, glancing at the floor before looking up and meeting her gaze, her eyes seemingly more relaxed than before. you let out a breath of relief, nodding.

"i, uh. thanks." you offer, the word seeming pathetic, even to you, but her expression stays the same.

she waves her hand in dismissal, then turns, pulling back the covers and slipping under them without looking at you.

you slip in beside her, and she reaches up, hitting the light.

she turns slowly, eyes half-lidded. her voice is quiet. "you're so quiet. what? worried we won't fit?"

you let out a small snort. "no... it's just." you trail off. her gaze shifts down, landing on your lips.

you lick them.

"i like you."

karina doesn't move for a second. then, a slow blink. "you just met me."

"i know."

she tilts her head just slightly. her voice drops. "you think you really mean that?"

you stare at her for a few seconds and nod. once. slowly. "yeah, i do. you make me feel happy and...alive, and, fuck, i don't know how else to explain it, but—just...yeah."

it's silent. you don't say anything after that, letting the silence engulf the room, but when you can't help but let the question escape your tongue, it feels like everything stops.

"do you like me?" you ask, voice hushed, as if not wanting the walls to hear you.

karina swallows. "look where you are."

and, damn, the way she says that. it sounds like a yes. a huge grin breaks out across your face.

you scoot forward a bit. not enough to touch. just enough that she can feel your presence.

she doesn't look at you. instead, her eyes slide shut, and her lips press together. like she can will away the butterflies in her stomach. like she can stop the heat rising through her chest. like she can stop the smile creeping across her lips.

her heart is pounding, but the warmth of your skin makes her feel safer somehow.

and, honestly, this isn't so bad.

morning comes. the sunlight hits karina's face. but the smell of something buttery and warm is the thing that gets her.

she stretches once, then blinks, her hand patting the bed beside her before her eyes even open. the sheets are cold. empty. clementine's gone too. that's the second thing she notices.

she rolls, head poking up just enough to look toward the window. she squints, pushing the blanket off and shuffling toward the door, hair a little messy, still blinking sleepiness away.

when she turns the corner, she finds you standing at the stove, barefoot in yesterday's hoodie, one hand balancing a plate while the other flips something onto it with practiced ease.

you don't hear her at first, too focused on plating.

you're humming something under your breath, probably not even aware you were doing it. karina watches. she sees you reaching into a cupboard for plates and hears the clatter of metal on tile, and the way you don't seem fazed by the noise makes her feel a certain kind of warmth that's impossible to describe.

"you can cook?" she asks, sounding almost skeptical.

your eyes flicker over.

you shrug. "bacon and eggs aren't exactly difficult, but sure."

a laugh. "is that an insult?"

"wouldn't dare."

she smirks.

you walk over, balancing the plate in one hand and holding it out. it's a breakfast sandwich—eggs, bacon, cheese, the works. karina takes it with a blink, clearly surprised, but says nothing.

you head back to the counter, grabbing your own plate, and then do the unthinkable: you plop down next to clementine on the rug, cross-legged, watching her eat her own meal.

karina stands there for a second. looks at the table. looks at you.

then sighs and joins you on the floor, sandwich in hand.

"i have a whole table."

you grin. she rolls her eyes.

you swallow the bite and wipe your mouth. you didn't think this morning would feel this casual, or that karina would be eating beside you, but you can't say you mind.

"i hope you don't mind the eggs," you add.

she looks up at you from the sandwich. "why would i mind?"

"not many people like eggs over hard. even less like over easy."

"over hard?"

you point to her plate with your finger. "cheese melted. yolks still kinda hard."

"you cooked it over hard? what the hell is wrong with you?"

"excuse me," you scoff. "it's a delicacy. don't pretend like you don't like a good over hard."

she tries to look offended, but a chuckle leaves her throat. "i think you're crazy."

"you're the one sitting on the ground with me," you quip. "just eat it, you won't care after a couple of bites."

karina stares at you. blinks. takes a bite. chews. she looks up, swallowing. "oh."

"good, right?" you smile, leaning slightly into her shoulder. she hums. but doesn't shrug you off.

it's quiet for a beat. karina's still picking at her breakfast, and you've finished yours already, leaning your weight onto the palm of your hands, clementine curled into your side.

"i leave tomorrow. to italy." you say suddenly, your head turned, watching her carefully.

she nods. she doesn't seem bothered, not at all. her lips press together, then purse a bit, then curve upward. "good. you're being too nice."

"really? i'm too nice?" you mutter.

she pauses, setting the sandwich back on the plate. she's thinking. you can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. "yeah." she smiles, just a little. "yeah. this was nice. you're nice."

"just nice?" you grin, feeling the relief seep out of every pore in your body, making you a bit lighter, a bit happier than you were seconds ago.

karina raises a brow, picking up her food again. "you looking for a review, hotshot?"

"always. gotta build up my rating."

a soft laugh leaves her throat. she takes a bite. shrugs. swallows. then looks you dead in the eyes and says, "two out of five stars."

"that's a shit rating."

"what can i say?" her tone is nonchalant. "the egg was overcooked, and the chef had terrible manners."

you roll your eyes and push yourself to your feet, swiping her now empty plate from her grasp. "so rude."

karina gives a long-suffering sigh, pressing the pads of her fingers together. she's not quite smiling, but her dimple gives her away.

you put the plates into the sink, already turning to wash them, but your phone is buzzing in your back pocket. you slide it out, your body tensing and lips thinning out at the screen.

karina glances sideways at your sudden stillness.

you swipe to answer and bring the phone to your ear.

"hello?"

"don't 'hello' me," your manager snaps, his voice crackling through the speaker. "you think i wouldn't hear about you participating in a street race? are you out of your mind? you're under contract, you—"

you take a deep breath, ignoring the heat in the pit of your stomach, the ache in your jaw. you don't bother asking him how he knew. there were cameras everywhere, and you weren't exactly low-key. this was inevitable. you're not naive.

"sorry. won't happen again."

he doesn't even acknowledge it, just barrels ahead. "you're supposed to be resting. not doing... whatever the fuck this is. if you got caught, you'd be suspended. what the hell were you thinking?"

"nothing," you snap, then pinch the bridge of your nose.

the room feels heavy. your heart sinks, and when you glance up at karina, she's staring back at you. she knows, just by the way your body is shifting and the frustration on your face, that something is wrong.

"i wasn't thinking," you mutter. "it just happened."

"jesus. you're not in some underground film; you're a professional racer. this isn't how champions act."

you want to throw the phone across the room.

"okay," you bite.

"okay?" he sputters, taken aback by your short response.

"okay."

silence.

"well," he mutters. "fine."

there's a click. you hang up.

for a few seconds, all you do is breathe. the water keeps running in the background. your chest aches, the air seeming a bit more difficult to drag in.

you hear the sound of wood creaking and footsteps behind you. and then, karina.

she places a hand on your shoulder. light. reassuring.

"everything alright?"

you shake your head. you're too exhausted to lie. she nods, her other hand finding yours and slipping her fingers between yours. she squeezes gently.

"wanna go for a drive?"

you shake your head. "i should probably prepare. leaving tomorrow."

her gaze meets yours. a bit worried but not pitying. "okay." she doesn't ask anything else. doesn't expect more than what you give her.

when you make your way to her door after fifteen minutes of small talk and exchanging numbers (after you had to slightly beg), you step out into the hallway of the apartment building and pause.

"guess this is me actually leaving," you say with a half-smile, trying to keep it light.

she hums. "guess so."

it's a few moments later, both of you not moving, until karina tilts her head a little, a slight frown pulling on her mouth.

"call me after, okay?" she says. it's a question, but the tone of her voice makes it clear there's not an option.

you let a small, relieved exhale out through your nostrils. you stare for a bit, smile widening. "okay... can i get a kiss goodbye?" you ask, tilting your head, trying to sound casual about it—even though you're 80% joking and 20% hoping she surprises you.

karina doesn't miss a beat.

she steps forward like she might close the distance—like maybe she's thinking about it—and then with a grin that's way too smug for this early in the morning, she reaches around you... and pulls the door closed.

"bye, hotshot," she says sweetly before gently shutting the door in your face.

you blink, stunned.

following that, you snort and knock on the door three times, earning a huffed chuckle.

"tease," you say.

"bye!" she sings through the door.

jeno insisted on you coming over to his for breakfast before your flight. even though he doordashed the breakfast ten minutes before you arrived, it still feels very him. he's one of the only people you trust with everything, even the most boring or trivial things. you can tell him absolutely everything, and it wouldn't be awkward. he's just a really good person like that.

you're sitting cross-legged on his couch with a mouthful of waffles, scrolling aimlessly through your phone while something plays low on the tv—some racing rerun neither of you are actually watching.

"dude," jeno says around a mouthful of food, "you know you have an international flight in, like, five hours, right?"

you glance at the clock on your phone. 9:42 am. your flight's not till two, but he's not wrong. "yeah," you mutter, chewing. "i know."

he raises a brow. "so why do you look like you're about to fall asleep right here?"

you shrug. "didn't really sleep."

he hums. "because of the race?"

you pause. trying to come up with a lie. then, with a sigh, admit the truth. "yeah. i guess. maybe. a bit."

he chuckles, his shoulders lifting just a fraction as the corners of his mouth tilt upward. it's quiet for a beat, the sound of chewing filling the space.

then he shifts, setting his plate on the table, and clears his throat. "is that all, or...should i assume it has something to do with karina?"

you freeze, the last of your waffle halfway to your lips, eyes snapping up to meet his.

he grins, already looking way too satisfied.

you sigh, dropping the fork and slumping back against the cushions, shoving the phone in your pocket. "it's not—i don't...how the hell did you even know?"

his eyebrows shoot up. he blinks at you. once. twice. three times.

"we share locations. you've been out and about... without me. me! for two days. so, i have a couple of guesses. first, and this is a stretch, but it's not outside the realm of possibility—" he takes a dramatic breath. "you finally got some."

you scoff.

"nailed it!" he crows.

you glare. "wrong."

"c'mon, i'm never wrong." he shoves his arm into your chest, teasing and lighthearted. "but fine, second guess? she took you for a drive in that silvia we both love so much, and you got all heart-eyed, and now you're missing her. i've seen this play out before."

your glare wavers, but you refuse to smile, giving him an exaggerated eyeroll. "if i wanted advice, i'd call jaemin."

he presses his hands to his chest. "that's fair," he muses. then, softer, he leans his shoulder against yours, head tilted. "you're nervous. that's fine. but it'll work out, or it won't, and you'll survive either way."

"easy for you to say. you're in an eight-year relationship. this isn't the same."

he chuckles. "why not?"

"because!" you sigh. "because i just met her and already feel like—" you shake your head, suddenly irritated and overwhelmed, and drop your plate onto the coffee table.

jeno is patient, but you can see him grinning at your reaction.

"like what?" he pushes, nudging you with his foot.

"like..." you trail off.

he gives you a minute. then two. then three. and then the words are spilling from your mouth without warning, "i like her."

jeno laughs. soft, sweet.

"good. keep it that way."

you groan, pulling the collar of your hoodie up over your face, wanting the warmth of it to melt you into the couch. "this is awful," you groan, voice muffled by the fabric.

...

"can i borrow your car?"

his head whips toward you. "no."

you blink. "what?! why?"

"i'm not letting you use my baby just to go on a goodbye tour."

you sit up a little straighter. "i'm not joyriding. i just—" you hesitate. "i want to see her before i leave. one more time."

jeno stares at you for a second, expression unreadable, before he sighs and grabs the keys off the counter. he dangles them in front of you.

"if she scratches my bumper with her tight-ass driveway, i'm billing you."

you grin and take them. "you're the best."

"yeah, yeah," he mutters. "just don't do anything gross in my seats."

you park a block away, just like last time. when you climb out of the car, you stand and take a second to appreciate the neighborhood. you didn't get to really pay attention before.

it's not as fancy as you'd thought. most of the buildings look a little worse for wear. paint's chipped, tiles are cracked. some of the grass looks dead, or hasn't been mowed in a few days. but you still can't help smiling as you pass the kids playing hopscotch. it's charming. quaint. homey.

you shoot her a text.

you you up? come outside

it only takes a minute. you can feel the phone buzzing against your palm, and when you glance up, karina's stepping onto the sidewalk.

she doesn't say anything. she doesn't wave or

run up and hug you. just waits until you're standing across from each other, breathing in the morning air and pretending like it isn't the strangest goodbye you've ever had.

you rub the back of your neck. "so..."

her lips twitch. "you gonna tell me why you're here, or do i have to guess?"

a small laugh leaves your throat, and you try to think of the right words. you'd spent the whole walk over practicing in your head. now that the moment's here, they seem to have vanished.

"just...wanted to say thanks."

karina tilts her head, curiosity flitting across her features.

"thanks for letting me in, for making me feel less shitty. and for taking me on a ride that made my top ten favorites list." you give a shrug. it's a dumb gesture. not enough, somehow. but it's all you can come up with.

the corners of her mouth curl up into a half-smile. you can't figure out how you're managing to stay so cool and collected right now, but the thought makes something warm flare up in the pit of your stomach.

"not bad for a beginner," she teases.

you snort, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jeans and rocking slightly. you look around.

karina walks over to the car with her sweats and a cropped tee, hair tied half up, expression unreadable except for the faintest tug at the corner of her lips. she hops up onto the hood of jeno's car, stretching her legs and leaning back, elbows resting on the metal.

you turn to face her fully. "really, though. i needed a good distraction and a good drive, and you gave me both."

her eyes drift closed. she breathes in and out. you stare. the sun shines on her eyelids, and you notice how soft they are. how peaceful she looks.

when her eyes open, you almost gasp. the way she's looking at you now. it's different than before. her gaze has an intensity behind it, an urgency, like there's something else she wants to say, and she's holding back.

but after a second, she glances off and pulls a strand of hair loose, wrapping it around her finger.

"stop being sappy," she murmurs, pushing off the hood. "i'm sure italy has a million good drivers."

you shake your head. "nah, no one could top you."

"you seriously wore the hat?" she asks, legs swinging slightly as she looks you up and down, grinning.

you lift your brows. "it's my hat."

she giggles. "you're such a dork."

you shrug. "it's my last day before italy. i'm allowed to be sentimental."

"what times your flight?"

"two," you say, watching her carefully.

she nods, slow. "that's why you're here."

"partly," you admit. "jeno's taking me to the airport, so i've got time. figured if i left without seeing you again, i'd regret it."

her face softens, just for a second. she looks away before it stays too long.

"you gonna win?" she asks, nudging you with her elbow.

"i'm gonna try."

and subsequently, without saying anything, you reach up, pull the cap off your head, and gently place it on her own. she stares at you like she's never seen someone this weird.

"so, um...i have something to ask."

"oh?" she looks up at you, an eyebrow arching slightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

"um, well…" you trail off. there's not a doubt in your mind about how ridiculous you must seem right now, stumbling over your words while trying not to freak out.

"well...?" she prods.

"fuck."

she laughs, and the sound is sweet and real. "god, just ask."

your cheeks are on fire. this is awful. why did you think this was a good idea? "fine! umm...i want you to come to my race."

"you think i'd actually fly out just to watch you show off?"

"yeah. because you're a competitive little shit and love the sport as much as i do. don't try to deny it; you love cars just as much as any other racing enthusiast. plus," you add, feeling braver, "i just gave you my good luck hat, so if you don't show up wearing it, i'll probably lose. just come, please."

her eyes flit between yours.

there's a beat.

and then, "you're a weirdo, you know that, right?"

"but?" you grin, already knowing where she's going.

"but..." she trails off. smirks. "i'll see what i can do."

her smirk lingers like she's got one more sarcastic jab lined up—but it never comes. you're close now. closer than you should be with someone you've only known for a couple of days, but it doesn't feel wrong.

it feels inevitable.

you look at her. her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, her eyeliner is messy, and her dimples are showing. it hits you suddenly how pretty she is. how lucky you are to have found her, even by chance.

you don't think before leaning in. your arms slide around her waist, and your nose brushes hers. and, god, when her lips touch yours, everything seems to stop.

the world fades away, and you're in some kind of trance, caught up in her, not thinking, not breathing. you're moving slowly, but the heat of her is overwhelming.

and then you kiss her.

her lips are soft. warm. her breath is minty from the tea she's drinking, and her tongue tastes like strawberries. she lets out a muffled groan when your hand finds her jaw, cupping it and tilting her head a bit. her skin is smooth. it makes your pulse spike and your knees go weak.

you've never wanted anything more than her.

not now. maybe not ever.

"go." she murmurs.

you lean back, staring into her eyes. she's a bit dazed, but regardless, her gaze is sharp and steady.

"what?"

"go before you start getting clingy." she mumbles, smiling, hopping off the hood, hands on your hips as she gives you one final quick kiss.

you can't help the smile on your face, feeling slightly lightheaded, and press a small kiss onto her cheek before sliding into the car and turning on the ignition, waving to karina as you pull off the curb.

she's still there when you reach the end of the street, arms folded, watching as you turn and drive off, disappearing from her vision.

"goddammit, hotshot."

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himasgod · 3 days ago

Note

Hello! ^^

I hope my requests are not overwhelming you, as this is my second request not so far off from my first, and this one has a lot more characters. (Of course you don’t have to do all of them!)

But do take your time! :) (I promise you this will be my last request before I vanish for a bit to let other people have their turn! I just love the way you write TWST characters!!)

May I request a fluff one-shot where the reader/yuu has these squishing frenzies with the first years+ Octavinelle+ Kalim, and Malleus separately? (Maybe implied that they are in a relationship??)

Squishing their face and hugging them tightly because they had cuteness aggression by the actions they were possibly doing? Such as their focused face when studying, their smile, or just a because of their presence, for example! ^^

Have fun with this request if you do consider on writing this! <33

-🗝️

FIRST YEARS + OCTAVINELLE + KALIM AND MALLEUS X READER

Where you have attacks of cuteness aggression and you need to squeeze their face

Deuce was coming down the hallway from class, still in his uniform, hugging a textbook to his chest. He looked normal. Perfectly average. But to you? Instant critical hit.

The way his tie was slightly crooked, the gentle smile he wore when he spotted you, the way he brightened just by seeing you there waiting—

Your heart did a backflip and your arms acted on instinct. You launched yourself toward him.

“Wha—? Yuu?!” he exclaimed as you crashed into him, arms around his waist in a bear hug so strong he had to take a step back to keep you both upright.

You didn’t answer right away. Just buried your face into his chest and let out a little muffled: “Too cute. Can’t handle it. Gonna explode.”

"Huh?! I didn’t even do anything though!”

You looked up at him.

“Exactly!! You didn’t even do anything and I’m already this overwhelmed.”

“T-That’s not fair! How am I supposed to react to that?!”

You tugged him down slightly to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to do anything, baby. Just stand there and be your sweet pookie lovely self. I’ll do all the attacking.”

He stood there frozen like a kicked puppy, blinking rapidly. Then:

“…Can I hug you back now?”

You just grinned and nodded into his chest.

Sebek was on his speech pacing in the library as he tried to help you study for a test. He had a hand on his hip, the other waving as he explained historical stuff of the Briar Valley.

You were trying to pay attention, truly. But your boyfriend was too fired up, his eyes with intensity, that proud grin, the way he got all huffy over every little historical injustice like it had personally offended him.

You barely registered what he was saying. Your brain just went like:

“PRECIOUS BOY.” “PASSIONATE LIL LOUD MAN.” “PROTECT AT ALL COSTS.”

“—and that is why the fortress was—GAH! HUMAN?!”

You had suddenly wrapped yourself around him from behind, your arms squeezing his waist and your cheek squished against his back.

“I can’t help it, you’re so serious and proud and you talk with your whole chest—I love you too much, Sebek!”

“You can’t just ambush me like this in the middle of a lesson!”

“But you’re so cute when you're passionate. I had to squish you.”

He spluttered like a boiling teapot, then tried to pry you off—only to end up red-faced and very still when you hugged tighter.

“…Such a menace,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“I like this type of menace,” you said nuzzling into his back again.

Sebek tried to resume lecturing but fumbled every sentence for the next ten minutes.

You had spotted Jack, chatting with one of the Heartslabyul third years, Cater. He was being polite n respectful as ever, but then Cater cracked some joke, and you caught it:

The tiniest twitch of a smile at the edge of Jack’s lips.

It was small. Just a little something warm and rare and so unmistakably him.

Your brain exploded.

By the time Jack turned around and saw you watching, your arms were already open and incoming.

“Yuu?! —woah—” He barely had time to catch you as you launched into him, arms wrapping around his broad chest as you grinned like a fool.

“You smiled. You smiled, and now I have to squish you. That’s the law.”

“It was barely a smile! That doesn’t count!”

You poked his cheek. “Yes it does. That little soft smile? That secretly sweet, totally not scary-at-all expression? Absolutely devastating.”

He groaned but didn’t let go. “You’re hopeless.”

“And you love it,” you sang, nuzzling his chest like a sleepy pup.

“…Yeah,” he mumbled after a pause, resting his chin gently on your head. “I really do.”

You came across Epel curled up in the lounge, clearly exhausted after a long Spelldrive session. His hair was still a little damp from a shower, and he had his sleeves pulled over his hands as he lazily scrolled through his phone.

His face was relaxed, his breathing calm. he looked so gentle. Like a kitten napping in a sunbeam.

Your heart absolutely could not handle it.

Without thinking, you dropped onto the couch beside him and smushed his cheeks with both hands.

“WHUH?! Yuu??!”

He flailed a little caught off guard as you tackled him into a tight cuddle, squishing his soft hoodie sleeves and cupping his squishy face.

“You’re too cute when you’re all sleepy and soft and that hoodie!I can’t take it!! You’re gonna kill me!!”

“I—‘m not soft!! I’m tough!”

You smooshed your nose against his. “You’re a tough guy who needs head kisses and hot cocoa.”

“…Okay maybe sometimes,”

You didn’t stop hugging him for the next twenty minutes.

Ace was lying on the Ramshackle couch, legs dangling off one side, eyebrows furrowed as he tapped his pencil against his notebook. He was surprisingly focused today, eyes narrowed, lower lip stuck out just a bit as he mouthed some formulas.

You had walked in ready to chill, but paused in the doorway. His stubborn pout, the way his hair flopped a little over his eyes, made your brain collapse.

Your hands twitched. Your vision blurred a little.

"Oh no," you whispered. "It's happening."

Before he could look up, you pounced, crawling right onto the couch and grabbing his cheeks in both hands.

“Wha—?! Hey!” he yelped, flailing a little as you squished his face between your palms like it was made of mochi.

“You're too cute when you're focused” you declared as you pressed your lips to his.

Ace's ears went pink instantly, though he tried to fight it with a groan. “C’mon, don’t squish my face—how am I supposed to keep looking cool if you go and squeeze it like that?!”

You didn't let go. If anything, you smushed him more giggling as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. “Deal with it, handsome. It’s your fault for being adorable.”

“…Ugh,” he muttered, but his hands were already coming up to hug you back. “I swear you’re gonna kill me with affection one day.”

And honestly? He didn’t sound too upset about it.

Kalim was dancing barefoot in his room, sleeves rolled up and a bright smile on his face as he tried to juggle both a fruit bowl and a beat from a playlist blasting from his speakers. He looked like sunshine, laughing, clapping along, spinning too enthusiastically and catching himself against the couch.

You were cooked.

Absolutely done for.

You dropped the book in your lap and ran straight toward him, launching into a fullbody hug that knocked both of you onto the plush cushions.

“Yuu?! Wahaha!” Kalim laughed, arms instinctively wrapping around you. “What’s this about?!”

“You’re literally glowing,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. “You were smiling and dancing and just… being you. It was too much. I had to hug you or my heart was gonna explode.”

“Awwww!! That’s the best reason to hug someone ever!!”

You bury your face in his shoulder. “I am physically in pain from how much I love you.”

He just giggled and hugged you tighter. “Then I’ll hug you right back until you feel better!”

Needless to say, he didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

Azul had been helping you with homework, glasses perched on his nose, his pen tapping lightly as he explained a confusing concept.

At one point, you managed to answer a tough question on your own, and his eyes lit up ever so slightly. A proud smile tugged at his lips before he cleared his throat and tried to hide it behind a sip of tea.

That smile… oh that shy, proud little smile…

Oh no.

You were on him in seconds, gently tugging the pen from his hand and grabbing his face between your palms.

“What are you—?!”

“You smiled, and now I need to squeeze your face and hug you until my brain resets.”

“Th-that’s hardly necessary—!”

You pulled him into a hug anyway, laying your head on his chest while he sputtered.

“You’re so precious, Azul. You make it impossible to not fall for you a hundred times a day.”

He fumbled for words—any words—before slowly wrapping his arms around you.

“…You are the most infuriatingly wonderful person I’ve ever met,” he muttered, face still buried in your hair.

Today, he was… peaceful. Lying on your lap, arms loosely around your waist, blinking slowly as he stared up at you with a lazy smile. No teasing, no biting, and definitely NO squeashing. Just humming and the occasional nuzzle against your stomach.

And it. Was. Killing. You.

The calm Floyd was somehow more dangerous than the wild one. Because now he was just being adorable.

You buried your face in your hands. “Oh my god…”

“What’s up, shrimpy?” he asked, blinking up at you. “Your face’s all red.”

“I’m having a crisis,” you whispered, then collapsed on top of him and wrapped him up like a burrito.

“WAH—! Shrimpyy?? Hahaha!! You squished me!!” he laughed, though he immediately snuggled into it.

“You’re too cute when you’re quiet and all cuddly,” you muttered, smothering his face with kisses. “My heart can’t take it.”

“Eeeeh~? You like calm Floyd that much?” he said with a smirk, nuzzling your nose with his. “Maybe I’ll be soft just to mess with ya~”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Malleus was sitting beside you under the moonlight, watching fireflies blink over the grounds. He was thoughtful, calm, but soft in the way he glanced at you every few moments.

He wasn’t saying anything special. He wasn’t doing anything fancy.

He was just existing. In your space. In your life. Loving you silently with every gentle breath. Your chest clenched.

You reached out slowly, hands on either side of his face, and just… squished.

Malleus blinked, startled. “Child of Man?”

“Your face, it’s so majestic. And perfect. And handsome. And you’re just sitting there being you, and I’m gonna DIE if I don’t squeeze you right now.”

He blinked once. Twice. Then chuckled, warm.

“I had been warned about your aggressive affections. I now see they were… not exaggerated.”

“I love you so much it’s physically painful, Tsunotarou. Please let me squish you forever.”

Malleus’s arms came around you. “Then, by all means, continue. I find your affection… rather soothing.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you melted on the spot.

Jade had invited you on a quiet walk through the botanical. It was peaceful,l and his was voice gentle as he spoke about different plants and fungi.

At some point, he crouched down beside a small sprout, his gloved fingers carefully brushing aside the dirt as he showed you the roots. He was serene, his usual unsettling grin replaced by quiet focus.

You blinked.

Oh no there it is. The rare Jade softness.

Before you knew it, you were dropping down beside him and throwing your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him like a koala.

“Fufu~? What’s this?” Jade said in amusement, tilting his head. “Have I done something to warrant such an ambush?”

“You’re being soft, Jade. Quiet, patient, gentle, you know that’s my weakness!!”

Jade chuckled, one arm coming up to support your weight as he let you squish him to your heart’s content. “Is that so? I shall endeavor to be even softer in the future, then.”

“You’re a menace to my heart”

“And yet, here you are—wrapped around me like a vine. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

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wendichester · 1 day ago

Note

hiiiii i love ur writing sm!! i just read your older!sister reader drabble (not on my watch) and im obsessed, i cant stop thinking about it. i love that it makes Dean a middle child it honestly really works. I was wondering if you'd be open to continuing it, maybe flipping it and older sister!reader gets hurt this time, or maybe she and the boys make fun of each other when they flirt or get flirted with on the job? or literally any other ideas you have about older sister!reader. thank you ily <3

⋆.˚ not on my watch²,

summary.your boys are always looking for trouble and you always come to the rescue.

pairing. sam + dean winchester x older sis!reader genre.fluff

wordcount. 888

notes / warnings. injury mention, blood, protective sibling dynamics, language, emotional vulnerability, banter, stitching up wounds, angst with softness, big sister energy

ᯓᡣ𐭩 read part 1

You don’t knock this time either.

But you stumble.

The door creaks open slower than usual. Dean barely looks up from where he’s eating out of a takeout box with one hand and flipping through some lore book with the other. Sam’s at the table with a laptop, half a sandwich untouched beside him. The second they see your face, though—everything stops.

You’re clutching your side. There’s blood. A lot of it. And you’re white as a sheet.

“Whoa—what the hell?” Dean’s already up. Sam’s grabbing the first aid kit like muscle memory.

You wave them off as you stagger in. “It’s not deep. I tripped running from a hellhound. Got friendly with a fence post.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “You ran into a fence?”

“Steel. Spiky. We’re dating now.”

Sam huffs, trying to hide his panic with a joke. “Did you at least buy it dinner first?”

You groan as you lower yourself into the motel chair. “I was gonna, but she ghosted me.”

“You’re bleeding through your shirt,” Dean says flatly.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m sitting down instead of doing cartwheels, Dean.”

Dean’s already got scissors in hand, kneeling in front of you. He glances up once. “Can I?”

You nod. He cuts the fabric away, slow and careful. Sam opens antiseptic and sets out the gauze. They’re moving like a machine—like they’ve done this dance a thousand times. And they have.

But it’s different when it’s you.

“You could’ve called,” Sam says, softer now. “We would've come.”

“I was handling it.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, clearly.”

You glare down at him. “It was going fine until the invisible dog from hell played linebacker.”

He starts cleaning the wound, but you don’t miss the twitch of his jaw. He’s pissed. Not at you, not really. But pissed that you got hurt when he wasn’t there. That someone got close enough to break your skin.

“How bad is it?” you ask, wincing.

“Needs stitches,” Dean mutters. “Four, maybe five. You want whiskey or just to scream through it?”

“I’ll scream. Let the neighbors think we’re even more bat shit crazy.”

Sam sits on the bed across from you, watching, arms crossed. “You scared the crap out of us, you know.”

You glance at him. “Now you know how it feels.”

They both freeze. Even Dean’s hand hesitates mid-clean.

“Turnabout’s fair play,” you murmur, voice going tight. “How many times have you two come back half-dead? How many times have I had to stitch you up while trying not to puke?”

Dean sets the needle down for a second. He meets your eyes, and for once, there’s no sarcasm there. Just guilt. Deep and real.

“You always hold it together,” he says. “Didn’t realize it was this bad on your end.”

You laugh without humor. “That’s because I make it look easy. That’s my job, right? Big sister. The glue. The medic. The adult in the room.”

Sam’s gaze softens. “You don’t have to be that all the time.”

You roll your eyes. “If I’m not, who is? You two? Please.”

Dean chuckles under his breath. “She’s got a point.”

He goes back to stitching. You hiss at the first prick, then clench your teeth.

It’s quiet for a moment—just your sharp breaths and Dean’s focused hands. Then Sam tilts his head with a grin.

“Hey, by the way—Garth says a deputy in that last town was hitting on you.”

Dean snorts. “Oh, right. The one with the big truck and the bigger forehead?”

“Shut up,” you mutter. “He was nice.”

“Nice and blind, apparently,” Dean mutters. “Didn’t even clock the bloody machete in your duffel.”

“He asked me to grab a drink.”

Sam raises a brow. “Did you?”

“No,” you scoff. “I told him I had to go wash brain matter out of my hair.”

Dean cackles. “Romantic.”

You smile despite yourself, chest aching—not just from the wound. From them. These boys you’ve practically raised, bandaged, dragged through Hell and back. They get older, but they never stop being yours.

Dean finishes the stitches and tapes a clean bandage over the gash. Then he stands and leans against the table, arms crossed.

“You need anything else?”

You raise a brow. “Yeah. A nap, a week off, and maybe a boyfriend who’s not a demon.”

Dean shrugs. “Two outta three ain’t bad.”

Sam smirks. “Depends on the demon.”

“No!” you and Dean say at the same time.

You all laugh.

It’s not perfect. The motel’s still musty, and your side still throbs. But for a second, the weight lifts.

You lie back with a sigh, stretching carefully across the bed. “If either of you picks up a hunt before I can stand without blacking out, I swear to God I’m gluing your weapons shut.”

Dean grins. “Superglue or hot glue?”

“Hot glue. On your eyelashes.”

He whistles. “She’s serious.”

Sam pats your foot. “We’ll wait. Scout’s honor.”

You eye them both. “Neither of you were ever scouts.”

Dean shrugs. “Still counts.”

You’re asleep within minutes, pain meds kicking in and exhaustion finally winning.

And when Sam turns off the lamp and Dean pulls the blanket higher over your sleeping form, neither of them says it.

But they both think it.

They wouldn’t have made it this far without you.

And they sure as hell aren’t going anywhere now.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles; compatibility readings; support my work .ᐟ

#dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #sam winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #sam winchester fic #supernatural #spn #.docx #.req #d : not on my watch

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evilminji · 3 days ago

Text

I just had another Xanxia Thought Child!

Everyone~☆! Congratulate my baby on being born!

*clap clap clap* (ﾉ ˃ˋᗜˊ˂ )ﾉ🎉🎉🎉

Cause like? Here we are? Assuming our Reincarnated Children AREN'T living in Interesting Times™ before they die? And that's no fun~! We should be giving that kid anxiety! Some pre-packaged heart demons! Maybe a twitchy murder finger!

A deep, DEEP seated loathing for Demonic Cultivators and, specifically, their undead minions.

You picking up what I'm setting down? ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ yeah~, that's right!

Zombie Apocalypse.

OC got lucky, originally, was out in the middle of nowhere, camping. Yes... lucky. Oh so very, very "lucky". She had supplies. She had shelter. Everything she'd need for the coming days. Oh, and a front row seat... to watch as everything fell apart.

Got to sit, miles and miles away, and listen, over the phone. As her family sobbed and screamed. Terrified and confused. Chaos, wet gurgling and ripping. The crunching of broken things and mindless groaning in familiar voices. Yes... so very lucky.

She didn't have to watch it.

Just listen.

See the news stations fall, one by one, as cities were over run. Watch as news sites stop updating. As infrastructure starts to fail and her connection begins to get spotty. Then, inevitably, as figures start to shuffle along the horizon. Mindless and wandering.

Like everyone else who survives those first terrible days, there is a steep learning curve. One she barely survives. But... she does. And that matters. She makes friends. She watchs them die. Keeps her promise, made again and again, that they won't come back. That she won't let them hurt anyone.

Civilization falls, yes. But it comes back. It always has. She finds her way to a city state. Prays for the day that "the billions" will end. Cause, after all, they say that if they're careful? Eventually the infection WILL die out. They just gotta contain it. Keep looking for a cure.

Hope is a stubborn thing.

But zombie swarms don't care about hope. They hunger. And what is the city, if not a shell waiting to be cracked? Like tides, they come. Slamming against the walls. Again. Again. AGAIN.

One day... one of the fuckers finds some weak point they must have missed. A breach. They start pouring in. Oc is on wall duty. OUTER wall duty. There are rings, because things like this might happen and everyone planned for the worst.

She's part of the team that stays behind.

Trapped between the second wall and the outer wall, trying to drive them back. Seal the gap. Cover fire rains from above. Each step, a hair from nashing teeth and clawing hands. There are so many. So, so many.

Too many, in the end. At least for her.

She's separated from the group.

A death sentence.

So fast...she barely feels being torn apart.

It's strange. The sky was so blue that day. Beautiful, really. Felt out of place for hell on earth. It was the last thing she saw. Endless... so beautiful and endless. She... she had just enough time to realize what was about to happen. To think "ah...", feel this strange... calm, settle deep.

That it would finally all be over. To end like this.

How unfair.

Oh well... at least she get to-

Then she's fucking blinking and there's a GOD DAMN ZOMBIE.

Naturally, she hit it with a wok. She was unaware there WAS a wok near-by. And also? Why is she in a kitchen? Like... an OLD as fuck one? But also not old? Clearly used one. Feels vaugly like the ones people rigged up during the early days... but like... not. And also Chinese. Questions for later!

Wait. No. Why the FUCK is she a ZYGOTE?! *flexs tiny "baby" hands* *is actually like 8* Ah... so she's in hell. Well fuck you too, god. I guess.

There is a scared child scream.

Religious crisis later! Zombie smashing now! She finds one trying to claw into a cabinet. Smart kids! Trapped themselves, but still! Smart. Good to put a barrier between themselves and the zombie. She crushes its skull with the wok. Rescues her... sib..lings? Oooh that's a weird head rush.

Okay, not hell. God just thinks they're fuckin FUNNY. I see how it is.

Well I'm about to be hilarious. (New life motto:Get!)

OC proceeds to Experienced Zombie Fighter her way through several houses. Rescuing who she can. Calls a retreat. Gets everyone to a defensible location. Oh joy, back to the swewers. She did NOT miss this.

Turns out? Town is being attacked by a small Demonic Cultivator sect. They brought zombies.

She's about to bring pain. Who the FUCK weaponizes ZOMBIES. Wanna uses nukes for a fist fight next? You idiot!? You ABSOLUTE BAFOON?! Is setting aside that whole "cultivation sect" thing to freak out over later.

(What? Like her neighbors old web novels? Those Xanxia things that he loves to talk about? Misses like crazy cause no one can find any physical copies of stories like that, here in the west?)

(...could...could find.)

OC starts to fuckin Ambush Predator them. You learn to fight dirty, in the apocalypse. Cause there ARE bastards out there. And not everyone was willing to be a decent fuckin human being. You're "cultivation" or whatever isn't gonna do SHIT, if you're too concussion to use it!

Blow to the head! Slit the throat before they recover.

Move on to the next one.

Kill as many fuckin zombies as you can along the way.

It is AS she's doing this? Somebody just sorta? *Yoink* scruffs. This small, filthy, murderous child? Sassy and immediately tries to stab them? Good reflexs! Taking that knife though. It's clearly cursed. Who gave you that? Did you take that from one of the demonic cultivators? Honestly, next time just use a kitchen knife. You don't know where their knives have been!

Blinking, she stops struggling to actually look at the adult holding her in air jail.

Huh. Bright colors. Doesn't seem to be on Team Zombie. Better check. Oi! How do you feel about Zombies? "Utter abominations. A crime against the dead." Oh, hey~! A reasonable and well adjusted adult! Hi~☆! ( ^-^)/"

Is her complete 180 from vicious, seething, hell child to calm and agreeable young lady mildly off putting? Yes. But, meh. The Cultivator thinks it's kinda cute. He bets she bites. Adorable.

Him and HIS team are here to murder the Demonic Cultivators and purge the Zombies. Wanna come with him? You have a talent for killing things. And, you know, a spiritual root. Mostly the first one. A fine quality! Good for ALL sorts of terrible demonic nasties. I'm assuming your parents are dead?

....wow. You're really bad with kids.

So I've been told! Is that a yes?

Only if oc can either bring her siblings or, should they not have spiritual roots, you help her arrange something equally beneficial. And just like? Rest of his team? Find him calmly debating with this filthy, blood covered child? That he's just? Holding directing out in front of him at eye level by the back of her shirt?

She's just hanging there from his grip. He looks quitely thrilled.

Oh... oh no. Who let him around a child? He traumatizes children! Why IS THAT CHILD COVERED IN BLOOD!? Shixiong what have you DONE!? (Adopted! Presumably! This IS how one obtains children, right?) (NO!!!)

@mayfay @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @hdgnj @leftnotright @spidori @lolottes

#minji's writing #Undead Heart Demons Au #xanxia #cultivation #wuxia #zombies #zombie apocolypse au #zombie apocalypse #could be svsss #could be something else #she just has a SEETHING ptsd based trauma hatred for zombies

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bloggerspam · 2 days ago

Text

I'm going to try and update tomorrow and tuesday too, but im going to be actively moving again those days so I can't promise anything.

(then again, the executives arent functioning and no doubt I will be taking many many breaks....)

also im sorry for the chapters after this--sooooo sorry.

also also--thanks to @lokiitama and @crypticfen val and wes are Danny's exes in this AU.

===

"You're off your game, Fenton!" Wes jeers from the sidelines.

Danny, in the middle of throwing a punch, yells back "Keep talking and you'll be next, Weston!"

"Typical," Val grunts, kicking at Danny's side heavily. "Weston picking up my sloppy seconds as usual."

"I resent that!" Danny and Wes yell at the same time.

"We speak not of the before times." Danny huffs as he dodges another hit.

"Fuck you," Wes calls over as Val tries to sweep Danny with a low kick spin. "You're the reason he swore off women and came to me in the first place!"

"You mean me and Sam set the Bar for women, because let's face it Weston—" Val flips away from Danny's grip after Danny jumps over Val's leg and lunges in to grab her. "You're easy."

"Are you slut shaming me??" Wes shrieks incredulously, "We're dating!! What does that make you??"

"Bored." Val grits out once Danny gets in a good punch to her gut. "And too lazy for the dating scene."

"Hi, hello—" Danny grabs Val finally, tossing her effortlessly onto the matted floor. He braces himself on his knees, looking at Val where she pants spread eagle and watching Wes come over to them with water bottles. "Can we not??"

"Fine." Val and Wes say in unison. Wes sits himself beside where Val's head is, and she scooches herself up so that her head is pillowed on his lap.

Danny feels a pang in his throat. He's jealous, not of Val or of Wes, those ships have long since sailed though he still loves them dearly even if they aren't that close anymore.

He's jealous of the intimacy they have. The closeness.

He sighs and he plops himself down, bringing his knees up to rest his chin on after he takes long swigs of his water.

"Alright Fenton." Val breaks the silence, sitting up to drink her own water and leaning against Wes like it's second nature. "Spit it out."

"Spit what out?" Danny pouts. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You've got that..." Wes makes a vague gesture that means absolutely nothing to Danny, "look about you."

"The stupid one." Val continues, "where you overthink shit."

Danny huffs, capping off his water bottle and hugging his knees in closer. "I know you have a group chat with Sam and Tucker, the one where you guys talk about me when you're worried."

"Danny's 3 evil exes and Tuck." Wes nods, as if he's ever even watched Scott Pilgrim. He hasn't, by the way—Tuck and Danny keep trying to get him to but he refuses simply because he likes being an asshole. "What about it?"

"Don't tell me—is this about Red Hood?" Val smirks, capping her own bottle and tossing it away. Wes and Danny watch it roll towards their bags. "Did he ask you out? Did you kiss him? Did you let him fu—"

"Val!" Danny hisses, looking around. There's no-one around, of course. They're in one of the gyms he's conjured up at Pariah's Keep, and he's ordered the servants away during his time with his old friends.

It's become Danny's Keep, but he wants to put off any kingly duties as far away as he can. The only reason he has the gym here instead of at his lair is simply because he wanted to keep things relatively small over there—and the Observants begged him to use the Keep somehow.

People with Eyeballs for their heads should not have tear glands, is all Danny's saying.

"Oh please." Val scoff. "It's not like you're some wilting flower—Sam told me all about what you guys were up to when—"

"Val!" Danny injects a little of Phantom's voice into it, shutting her up when the Keep rattles. It's true, Danny's no prude, but that's different. It doesn't exactly please Danny whenever his escapades are talked about amongst his exes, but he supposes he's somewhat at fault for staying friends with them.

It's not truly a problem, it's just…weird. Severely weird. Val and Tucker are pretty free with that kind of thing, and Wes and Sam simply do not care one way or another.

Danny doesn't mind it, and has no problem talking about sex in an abstract way—but not when it's him, not when his friends know who he's sleeping with.

Not when it's Danny, and especially not when it's Phantom—not that any of his exes ever really explored Phantom all that much.

Val mimes zipping her lips, raising her hands up in surrender as Wes sighs heavily. "You know it embarrasses him, so why would you push?"

"It only embarrasses him when it's about a crush." Val waves off, "It never bothered him when he was single with no prospects."

"Just because you're right," Wes jabs Val in the side, "doesn't mean it makes you any more pleasant to be around. This is almost a surefire way to make him clam up."

Wes gestures over to Danny, who has indeed clammed up. He bites his lip, feeling a flush cover his face.

"Look, I'm sorry okay?" Val gentles her voice, tapping her shoe against Danny's. "You know I was just teasing. C'mon. There must be a reason you're coming to us instead of the wonder duo. What is it?"

Danny groans. "It is about Red Hood. And yes, there's a reason I came to you guys."

"Well, go on then." Wes smiles crookedly. Abstractly, Danny remembers this smile being the one that got them together in college. "Spill, space case."

"I couldn't ask Sam or Tuck because our boundaries are a little…loose." Danny hesitantly starts, which causes both of his friends to snort loudly.

"You're lucky neither of us were the jealous type." Val agrees, draping an arm around Wes' shoulders. Wes, ever the nice boyfriend, slouches so it is easier for his shorter girlfriend to do so. "But you've outgrown it a bit, haven't you?"

"Yes…" Danny sighs, "But—I just. I just couldn't remember what was normal or not."

"You're dancing around the subject." Wes says calmly, coaxing. "Tell us what happened from the beginning."

"Red Hood has been…trying to get closer to Phantom." Danny runs his hands through his hair, back and forth to soothe himself. "Tuck called it a stray cat thing. Long story short, he's been…I don't know, testing boundaries."

"Stray cat thing?" Val scrunches her nose cutely.

"Like sitting next to it, but not making eye contact?" Wes hums, thinking. "Uhm, and treats right?"

"Yeah." Danny huffs. "It made me realize I—Phantom keeps a sort of…bubble? Around everyone."

"It's about six feet, give or take." Val nods, which causes Danny to blink. She explains. "Ever since you accidentally got Tucker sick, you keep your distance in Phantom form."

"All of us knew," Wes picks up, "That's why we wear long sleeves and, well, you know—the capes."

"Jazz said pointing it out would make it worse." Val finishes, gesticulating with her hands. "We were trying to figure out some kind of solution, but we're all so scattered and busy—Tucker's kind of mad you never visit him even though you're in Gotham a lot for missions you know?"

Danny feels like tearing up, and both of them clearly can tell so they drag him over and the three of them relocate to lean against the gym wall. Danny sits snugly between them, half tempting him to transform just to siphon their warmth.

He doesn't, for obvious reasons.

"So he's trying to get closer to you by treating you like a stray cat." Wes finally breaks the silence, leaning his hand atop Danny's. "what happened after that?"

"He's been summoning me a lot, to ask questions about Realms culture." Danny fiddles with Val's fingers, with Wes', just for something to do. "A couple days ago, I went over and he—I guess he got back from a particularly rough patrol."

"He was injured?" Val guesses, to which Danny nods.

"I patched him up, and we talked. It was nice." Danny smiles, oblivious to his friends' gazes as he gets lost in the memory. "He…his magic, it makes him like me but opposite I think."

Wes hums, encouraging as Val murmurs a low "uh huh?"

"So I asked him and somehow he—" Danny scrunches up, letting go of their hands to cover his face as it burns. "He uhm, asked if we could hold hands, so we did. And—he realized we could help each other so we—cuddled."

A long silence falls over them, making Danny squirm. His friends squeeze in closer, as if to comfort, or simply to prevent him from escaping due to sheer embarrassment.

He continues, if only so the silence doesn't throttle him, whispering. "He…kissed my hand, and then his brother tumbled through the window and I ran away."

Another second, before the gym echoes with loud, bursting laughter.

Danny curls up even further, even has his friends try to uncurl him.

It's no use, Danny is stronger than both of them combined even if they weren't weak from laughter.

Danny briefly wonders if Hood did something to him, if perhaps the All-Caste magic is contagious and that's why Danny feels like he might burn to a crisp under the flush of his embarrassment.

"You're a mess over a kiss on the back of your hand??" Val breathes through her loud guffaws.

"Gods," Wes chuckles, lifting a hand to push back his hair. "What are we, in Bridgerton?"

"No, no—" Val snorts, "Hood's a regular Darcy, ain't he?"

That sets off another bout of breathless laughter.

"Are we done?" Danny deadpans, hands dropping as his embarrassment quickly drains into deadpan exhaustion. Which, he supposes, was probably the point.

"Yeah, Lizzie." Val grins, bumping her head against his. "We're done."

"So what's the problem anyway?" Wes asks, wiping a tear away and smiling widely, "Clearly he's interested, and the mishap with his brother aside, you…were…"

Wes stares at Danny, whose cheeks start to burn again. Wes jolts up, trying to make eye contact with Danny, but he shuts his eyes tight as he bites his lips.

This prompts Val to jerk away too, and he can feel their gazes burning on him. It is decidedly less pleasant than when Hood does it.

"Danny—" Val pleads, now a little distraught, "You ran away because you were caught in flagrante, Jane Austen style right? Right?"

Danny stays silent, shoulders hunching up. He wishes he could be anywhere but here.

"Danny you can't be serious." Wes slowly enunciates each and every word, words going sharp when Danny tries to cover his face again. Wes and Val each grab a hand to prevent him. "Danny—did you call us over because you don't know how you feel about Red Hood??"

Danny winces. His friends groan as they slump back into the wall.

"I don't know what's normal anymore!" Danny cries, looking at his friends desperately. "I'm friends with all my exes, my one platonic soulmate helped me figure out I was bi, we all cuddle!"

Wes and Val each look like they have something to say to that, but Danny's on a roll now.

"We hold hands." Danny stresses, jerking up said hands and shaking them in their respective faces. "I've seen both of you naked and you're dating each other now and we hold hands and the worst part is it's not weird."

Danny proper worked up now so he jumps up, pacing back and forth across the gym floor—always disturbingly shiney from how many times the servants clean the damn place even though they barely use it twice a month.

"Hood is attractive, sure, but I've always been susceptible to pretty people and on the whole it doesn't actually mean much because, like, Kwan was nice and handsome and even though there were times when he got real close and my heart stuttered I didn't actually like him romantically." Danny gesticulates, trying to convey his scattered thoughts. "And Phantom is touch starved. I vaguely knew about it but I'm a procrastinator and it turns out, the deadline for figuring that kind of thing out passed two days ago, when I was on the verge of exploding just from him holding my hand."

"We get along, and have nice conversations when he's in a conversational kind of mood, but until recently we were just colleagues, maybe, at a push, sort of friends." Danny stops, breathing heavy. He buries his face into his heads, groaning. "Red Hood treats me really well, sure. And maybe, maybe I can believe he's attracted to Phantom. But how do I know if I like him when it could be any number of things?!"

"Red Hood has fire magic and, I cannot stress this enough: Phantom is touch starved." He twirls around putting his hands out helplessly towards his friends, as if presenting these two options to them physically. "Jazz would have my hide if I went into this recklessly and…and possibly hurt Hood's feelings—he's already traumatized, has a boat load of trust and abandonment issues, and don't even get me started on his family problems."

Danny crouches down, hugging himself and feeling like he's going to cry, possibly throw up. "We don't even know each other's secret identities, and I'm not in the business of demanding anything but Hood is a Bat. Those guys can never leave well enough alone, and I don't want to resent him if he finds out and won't reveal himself in return. I don't think I will, considering the whole thing with Huntress, but I am also the guy who became evil in another timeline so what do I actually know?!"

Another silence threatens to chew Danny up, but luckily Val bulldozes through it.

"Wow. I thought maybe you tuned her out when she lectured you," Val starts, amazed and breathless, "But you really listen when Jazz talks to you about all that psychoanalysis stuff huh."

Danny, for lack of anything else to do, rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Obviously."

"I think." Wes cuts in, when Val has the gleam in her eye that precludes a tussle. "this could be an easy fix."

Both Danny and Val whip their heads towards the red-head. "Explain."

"Well, there's only two problems right?" Wes tilts his head in thought, tipping over until he's leaning into Val. "If Phantom is touch-starved, then y'know, touch people more. Compare and contrast."

"And if you think it's his fire magic—" Val continues the thread, "Ask Etrigan."

Danny blinks. "The…demon ghost guy?"

"Demon meaning hellfire and all that?" Val pauses. "Or you could ask Zatanna, since she's your fave JL Dark member. She can use fire magic, can't she? Or at least, knows someone who can."

Danny considers this. "But…Hood. How do I…"

"Danny." Wes sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Use your big boy words. If you listened to Jazz you know that you can just talk to the guy, ask for some space to figure it out—actually no, ask him what his intentions are in the first place."

"That sounds way too reasonable and logical." Danny jokes, trying for a smile and probably failing.

"You're twenty-five." Val deadpans. "Be an adult and talk about your feelings."

Danny groans as he falls back to starfish on the gym floor again. "Yuck."

Dear Darcy...

Another AU borne from the HHD server--Touch-starved DoM with identity shenanigans. Follow here on AO3!

===

It isn't until well into their acquaintanceship that Jason notices something odd about Phantom.

That's not exactly true—Jason noticed it on their third mission together in a passing thought, but decided to not care about it on account of all the bullets and daggers being thrown at him and his team at the time.

Phantom is an ally, of sorts. A consult, perhaps, Jason doesn't really know.

It's hard to really say when they still don't really know what he does.

Though, again, that's not exactly true—Jason supposes it's more accurate to say they still don't really know what he can't do.

They go to him when the supernatural is involved, introduced to them via Zatanna when Jason expressed an adamant dislike of needing to ask JL Dark for anything (needing to ask Bruce for anything).

The ghost, a big name in the so called Realms world, is friendly and happy to help most of the time. He's a delight to work with in Jason's book, seeming to use his so-called ghost sense to read the room empathically—filling in the spaces when the quiet is too dark for the team, trailing behind silent as a shadow when even breathing is too loud, staying mostly out of the way and chiming in when necessary.

It helps that if shit hits the fan, Phantom can do something about it—it helps that that's the only time Phantom will ever butt in.

The Outlaws, Jason, is still to raw to handle playing nice, but Phantom makes it easy.

Phantom makes it effortless.

It makes Jason's gut roil in ways he's not sure how to deal with, beyond shooting it.

Either way, Jason, Red Hood, isn't supposed to be here in the Realms.

It's not that he's not allowed, per say, it's just that he wasn't exactly invited to this particular corner and Jason's a Bat, sure, but even he knows the supernatural have rules.

Jason was trying to summon Phantom for a quick mission, an in and out kind of deal that may or may not have had a cult involved in it that made Jason a little leery.

Except the summons was denied, which can happen sometimes when Phantom is busy.

Only instead of the circle simply going dark, like usual, Jason got pulled in instead.

So now he's here, in what he assumes to be Phantom's lair.

It's nice, the lair, if a little dark and mood-lighted. It has a dome-like structure, with stars and constellations all over like a planetarium. There's even one of those big ass telescopes peeking out the roof like one, though it seems to only point outwards towards the green of the Realms. Symbolic, or decorative in nature.

There's bookshelves of astrology and astronomy and all sorts of science and space related things littered throughout the shelves. Every now and then the stacks of books are interrupted with some kind of LEGO space creation, or a miniature of a rocket, or some of those weird weapons Phantom sometimes pulls out.

There's a work area, neat and messy at the same time, with a work table and a large toolbox drawer set. Metal detritus is piled neatly next to it, a project or two laid out under a heavy dark blue cloth on the table to keep it from getting dusty or be moved around if Jason has to guess.

In another area, there's living room-like space with a big monitor and beanbags and soft chairs surrounding it, typical of a college dorm room-esque gaming set up. Just beside it there's a large computer that hums softly, a picture of a female werewolf acting as a screensaver.

In yet another, there's a gathering of plants of many varieties growing this way and that. Jason spots a couple he recognizes from his run-ins with Pamela, and spots a copious amount of plants he doesn't recognize of this Earth. Ghost plants, he's assuming, from the glow of them.

There is even, curiously, one of those "at-home" basketball games that can fold away reminiscent of the ones you can see at the arcade with a couple miniature basketballs. Beside it, some kind of sleek mechanical looking surfboard rests against the wall in metallic reds and black with another toolbox set hidden just behind where it leans.

The kitchen area has a fridge that's absolutely covered in magnets from all over the world, a picture in crayon that is disconcertingly good pinned up here or there signed by someone named Ellie.

And then, of course, the main draw at the center of the room: a bed of sorts, stacked with pillows and blankets and assorted plushies of varying sizes.

Buried within is Phantom himself, huddled up in a nest of pillows and breathing heavy, angelic face flushed green the way a human would in fever. Jason, for the first time since meeting the halfa, truly wonders extensively how much the he isn't telling them.

Which brings Jason back to the odd thing.

Well, the odd thing that Jason is focusing on right now:

Phantom, contrary to his self-proclaimed ghostly nature, is very solid.

More than that, he's very, utterly, alive.

It's all the more apparent when Jason takes off one of his gloves to feel Phantom's forehead, the way Bruce would when Jason was Robin.

The way Jason wishes he could with his family.

Jason realizes, with the kind of starkness that comes from a photo flipbook of memories cascading through him, that he's never touched Phantom before. Not skin to skin or outside of a spar, and never like this.

He realizes, as the pocket book extends to not just him but his team-mates as well, that Phantom's never touched anyone before.

Always hovering just 6 feet away, like quarantine.

Like the depth of a grave.

Phantom is not quite hot to the touch, as Jason expects he would be. He had suspected a fever, of a sort. But he supposes it makes sense that a ghost would run cold, considering.

In the first place, Jason's not sure what possessed him to touch the ghost—he doesn't even have a baseline temperature to compare to so there's no real point.

He's not sure what possessed him to think this was okay, touching an ally like this without consent.

Not when his touch has never been welcomed, especially not when he's Red Hood.

He's just about to pull his hand away, careful not to wake the ghost, when Phantom starts to purr.

It rattles through him, like it's not used to being let out, as Phantom nuzzles at the tips of Jason's fingers.

As if Jason's touch was wanted, as if it comforts the ghost, as if Phantom wants nothing more.

As if this very hand didn't burn buildings to the ground, didn't shoot men into the fathoms, didn't carry bloody duffle bags, didn't fucking hurt hurt hurt.

Jason withdraws his hand carefully, gliding as gently as he can manage, breathing slow and deep.

He's been trained bloody enough to know pulling back in knee-jerk reaction can give things away.

He does not want Phantom to know he touched him.

Jason puts his glove back on, tight and unforgiving, and steps back.

He flexes his hand once, twice. Shakes it, before forcefully relaxing every muscle, trying to melt away the cold traces of Phantom's skin on his.

He clears his throat once, twice a little harsher, until Phantom mewls and blinks glowing green eyes up at him. His gaze is hazy with fever, soft like feathers, child-like in confusion.

And here, another odd thing Jason has not noticed until now:

When did Phantom's Lazarus green eyes become comforting?

When did Phantom's watery green eyes become forgiving?

#danny is going though it #must be rough being the more emotionally competent one in a low EQ averaged couple #seriously from here on theres plot and low key i am sorry about it #cuz theres gonna be angst and healing hopefully #touch starved dead on main #dead on main #my writing #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny fenton #jason todd #red hood #darcy au

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yukioos · 1 day ago

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hows my fav write doing??? May I get a large cappucino?? (Shinsou x reader (hes in 1a) where the whole class are at like a met gala for heroes but he notices she not feeling well. She leaves the program and goes to the washroom and he follows. He finds her trying to stop her hip wound bleeding w blood all over her hands and shes on the verge of passing out) lots of fluff and romantic tension pleaseeee

when your injury becomes severe during the worst time, so hitoshi comes to help you

a couple of months after the war, class-a in the hero course was invited to a gala as a celebration for winning the war. you took hours getting ready, picking out the perfect outfit and accessories to look your best. while getting dressed, you came across a major problem. a few days prior, you were on a mission to catch a few villains caught up in an underground drug scheme.

with everything you’ve already dealt with, you knew you could finish and catch the villains quickly, just wanting to go back to your dorm and rest. however, it ended with a deep gash being cut into your hip, and no support hero was there to heal you.

but eventually, you handed the villains over to the police, and were given basic treatment by a nearby medical specialist, who was in an ambulance to help hostages. bandages still cover the injury, and you switch them out daily to keep it from getting infected.

but now, your photos are being taken by paparazzi, lights flashing and nearly blinding you, though with pain, you try to keep your eyes open. the injury on your hip is burning, stinging as you try to focus on posing and smiling, making a small show of your quirk.

once you’re done, you speed through past other heroes, but regrettably slow down when you feel an aching pain in your hip. you whimper in pain, rubbing over the clothed skin comfortingly.

but the pain continues even as the host is serving dinner to you and your classmates. in the middle of eating at a large dinner table, filled with exquisite dishes all lined up along the middle, you excuse yourself. the pain is nearly unbearable now, you need to check your injury to make sure you haven’t bled out even more.

hitoshi pauses taking a sip from his drink and looks to his right, where he sees you walking out, with a hand covering your hip. you appear to be in pain, as you seemed so an hour ago. during the photographs, when yours was being taken, you gave the paparazzi soft smiles, different from the ones you give when you’re enjoying something. to him, they were clearly fake smiles.

so he excuses himself, politely standing up and pushing his chair back in before rushing and following you.

but he watches you run into a washroom and quickly close the door behind you. he grumbles, not wanting to intrude, so he instead stands outside the room, tapping his foot impatiently. he’s unsure if you’re alright, not knowing whether or not he should walk in.

ultimately, he decides not to.

you choose a stall to lock yourself in, and you take off your clothing, though it’s sticky and uncomfortable near your hip.

“are you kidding me,” you mumble in complaint.

your bandages are soaked with blood, and your clothes are soaked on the inside with it too. the more you shift your body, the more the injury burns.

you push your hand on the injury, trying to stop the gash from bleeding more. within seconds, your hand is red, and you can smell the blood on your hip, and it even starts dripping down your thigh.

but hitoshi’s had enough of your silence. he’s growing worried, so he knocks on the door.

you flinch, hearing a voice speak, “y/n, i saw you were moving a bit weirdly today. i heard you were injured a few days ago, are you alright? do you need help?”

it sounds like a man’s voice, hitoshi’s, perhaps.

pondering, you stay silent for a minute before responding, “i’m not— i’m not feeling good, i might need some help.”

he hesitates before asking, “can i come in?”

you give a soft, “yes, please.”

within a second, he’s barging in, observing the clean area before concerningly asking, “is there anything i can do?”

slowly, you unlock the door, and hitoshi’s standing there before you, but sees you in all your glory. you’re standing there, propping yourself up against the wall, only in underwear, your bra, jewelry, and your heels.

he blushes, he’s never even seen a woman in something like a tank top. for him, this is so revealing, but he’s not too worried about it when he sees your bloody hip and your shaking stance.

you’re losing color, becoming paler, and you embarrassingly turn your head away from him.

his eyes widen, scared for you, and he suggests, “hey, how about you sit on the countertop? maybe it’ll be easier to treat your injury like that.”

“i— i don’t think i can move, hitoshi,” you mumble out, arm propping yourself up against the wall.

he softly asks, “can i?” as he reaches out to you, beginning to put a hand on your bare back.

you nod, and with the injury, it makes it even more difficult to walk, along with the heels.

so he gently picks you up bridal style, and you let out a squeal of surprise, then he takes you across the room to sit you atop near the sink. he holds your hand on your hip, putting more pressure on the wound. as he does that with one hand, he takes off your heels and places them on the ground near you.

but your eyes are hazy, stilled, and focused on some wall behind hitoshi.

he inquires, “you still here with me, y/n?” he then softly says, almost whispering into your ear, “i need you to focus,” the way he talks sends shivers down your spine.

“mhm, sorry,” you weakly say, mind still cloudy.

he takes some paper towels and picks your hand up, quickly pushing paper towels on the bloodied bandages, though it already soaks up most of the blood.

neither of you has the proper equipment to disinfect the wound. he sighs, this really is an unfortunate situation for you both.

he replaces the towels with other, clean ones, throwing the dirtied ones into the trash.

once you feel the difference, and the pressure of his cold hand on yours, you whimper, “toshi,” and he perks up, face flushed, “it hurts, i think— i think we might have to wait this one out, i’m sorry,” you pause, feeling embarrassed of dragging him into this mess, “you can go back and enjoy your time at the gala, i’ll stay here.”

he shakes his head, purple hair splayed everywhere, “no,” he stares into your cloudy eyes, “i’ll stay here with you.” he then pauses, seeing your head bob up and down, as if you’re drifting into sleep.

he scooches you over easily, briefly taking off his suit jacket to place it over you. you must be cold, nearly naked, and there are goosebumps on your thighs and arms.

hitoshi rolls up his sleeves, and his scars show easily, scattered across his arms attractively. although you hardly notice, he peels off all of your bandages, thinking maybe your wound would feel better if he fully changes out the bandages.

so he pours some water over your wound, cleaning the skin around it and pouring it over the injury. you sigh in relief, and the wound already feels a bit better. your underwear feels a bit damp, but you aren’t too bothered by it. you hardly even know what’s happening right now.

he applies pressure on your wound again with the towels, and he softly rubs your thigh with his thumb.

minutes later, your eyes are a bit more open and clear. your voice is stable, and you nod, “i think i’m able to move now,” you look up at him, smiling, “thank you, hitoshi.”

he grins, and you hesitate, eyes widening, “wait, how will the paper towels stay? my dress is ruined too, what do i do?”

his face slackens, and his eye twitches, but he murmurs, “now that i’m thinking about it, we really do have to wait it out.”

you let out a chuckle, and he smiles, still keeping pressure on your wound at all times. your face becomes warm. you’ve never realized how close you and hitoshi were, and now looking at it, it doesn’t appear as the most appropriate position.

your legs are spread, making space for him to help you with his wound, and he stands in the middle of them, with one hand on the inside of your thigh, and the other on your hip. plus, the fact that you’re only in your undergarments doesn’t make the scene look any better.

but the two of you lose track of time, stomachs going hungry, and the two of you converse for what feels like just a few minutes. before you know it, however, hours have passed, and suddenly, all of the girls come to check up on you, finally noticing how long it’s been since you’ve come back.

and when they see the positions you’re in, and your states of being, sweaty and hands on each other, they immediately run out, giggles escaping their mouths.

here’s your large cappuccino!! hope you like this

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ambiguous-avery · 24 hours ago

Text

Quiet Hours

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 1525

Summary: You knew Dean loved you. It was in all the big, grandiose moments. The times he would throw himself between you and danger. It was in all the stolen moments between motel sheets, in all the whispered promises. But most of all, it was in the quiet moments. When it was just you and Dean existing in each other's orbits.

Tags/Warnings: Pure tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

A/N: Finally, some Dean content for you lovelies!! I have been on such a Sam kick with my series, but now that that has ended, I have a backlog of Dean stuff to give you all! This is my submission for @zepskies’ 5k follower event! Again, congrats to you, Alex! I requested a gif, and she gave me this lovely one. Title is from the song “Quiet Hours” by Letdown.

Dean Winchester never half-assed anything.

He didn’t just walk through a bar. He prowled. Chin held high, boots heavy, confidence radiating off of him like heat off a blacktop in the middle of a Colorado desert. When he ordered a drink, it was with intent. When he drove, it was with purpose. When he hunted, he did it like there was no tomorrow. And sometimes – no, most times – you were afraid that was exactly how he lived too.

Like tomorrow was never guaranteed, so what was the point in saving anything for later?

But if you had learned anything about Dean, he wasn’t reckless. Not really. He just burned so brightly that it felt like recklessness. He committed to things and people full throttle. If there was a monster, he killed it. If there was a mission, he finished it. If there was a threat to someone he loved? God help whatever was in his path.

All that to say that Dean didn’t do things halfway. Not ever.

You noticed it the first time he kissed you. You’d expected it to be rough. Heated. Fast. Maybe even a little desperate. Something that matched the intensity of the way he lived his life. But it hadn’t been like that. It hadn’t even been close.

He kissed you like he had all the time in the world. One hand cupped your jaw like you were something precious that he couldn’t afford losing. The other curled around your waist like he already knew how well you’d fit against him. His lips moved slowly. Reverently. Like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth just in case the world ended the next day.

It was the first time you suspected that there might have been more to Dean Winchester than just bravado and bad habits.

And the moment you realized that he loved you happened about two months after you had first hooked up with him. A vampire hunt in Arizona gone sideways. You had been careless, and he found you bleeding, pissed off, and too damn proud to have asked for backup. You were already down on one knee, dizzy from the blood loss. You hadn’t even heard him coming. There was just a blur of plaid and rage, a flash of his machete, and the sound of bodies falling around you.

He didn’t yell at you. Not at first. Not until after he had dragged you back to the Impala and deposited you in the front bench. You remembered the tension in his jaw. You remembered the way the steering wheel creaked under his grip. He didn’t look at you once the entire drive back to the motel. And then, the second the door closed behind the both of you, he snapped.

“You don’t get to be reckless with your life,” he had said, voice shaking. And you had blinked at him, confused and bleeding.

“What?”

“You think this is just a fling? You think I’m here for fun? I’m in this. With you. All in. You get that?” And you were pretty sure that that was the first time you had ever seen Dean afraid.

Not of monsters. Not of dying. But of losing you.

Now, months later, you were curled up in bed beside him, caught somewhere between half-asleep and half-listening to the low hum of the tv that neither of you were actually watching. The motel room was quiet otherwise, and you briefly wondered if Dean was still awake.

He was.

You could tell without looking. You could feel it in the way he was still. Too still. When Dean slept, he sprawled out. Arms loose, legs tangled with yours, the weight of him heavy and warm like a personal heater. But currently? He was tense. Coiled. Like he was waiting for something to strike. Or like he was holding something in. So you opened your eyes to find him already watching you.

The hard lines of his face were softened by the bedside lamp that was still on, and his expression was unreadable, wavering between distant and vulnerable. You recognized the look. You had seen it before. This was the kind of look he had right before he told you something important. Right before he let you in, one guarded inch at a time. You had learned to treasure these moments.

“Dean?” you whispered, fingers brushing his arm. He swallowed. His eyes flicked down to your hand then back up. Then, in a voice so quiet and soft that you almost missed it,

“Marry me.”

The words landed with all the subtlety of a bullet to the chest. Your jaw went slack. Your heart stopped. Then it started again, hard and fast like a kick drum against your ribs.

“What?” The word came out strangled. Dean looked away. His jaw tightened like he was bracing himself for rejection.

“I said… marry me.” You propped yourself up on one elbow. He met your gaze, and you could see every thought in his head going to war with whatever he was feeling. The two of you shared a charged look before he blinked and turned away, eyes turning up towards the ceiling. And then it hit you.

Dean was terrified.

Not of the idea of being tied down. Not of committing to someone in a way that people would consider permanent. Not of the ring or the ceremony or the promises.

He was terrified of your answer. Because this was something that he wanted. Something that he didn’t think he deserved.

“Dean,” you breathed, reaching out for him. Your fingertips grazed his stubbled jaw, gently coaxing his face to turn to you again. His eyes – those impossibly green ones that had seen too much loss in the world – were wide with vulnerability that you were sure you had only seen a handful of other times. He flinched. Not from your touch, but like the effort of holding everything he was feeling back was physically paining him.

“I know I can’t give you the life you deserve,” he said. “I can’t promise safety. Or stability. Or a house with a stupid white picket fence. I don’t even know where we’ll be next week, let alone ten years from now.” His voice trembled as he spoke. You were quiet. Of all the things you had learned about Dean, these moments where he was willing to give a voice to the things he was feeling were far and few between.

“I don’t have money. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know if I’ll even live long enough to grow old with you. But I love you. And I wanna try. I wanna give you everything that I possibly can. Even if it isn’t much.”

There was nothing cocky in his expression. No bravado. No unwavering confidence. Just fear. Just hope. Just love. You sat up fully and cupped his face in both of your hands. He leaned into your touch like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.

“I never wanted the picket fence,” you whispered. “I’ve only ever wanted you.” He let out a shaky breath.

“You sure?” he asked quietly. “You sure that this– that I’m enough?”

You kissed him. Not to shut him up. Not to distract him. But because there were no words you could string together that could say ‘yes’ the way that your kiss could. He kissed you back with the same reverence as the very first kiss you shared, but there was something new beneath it. Relief. Gratitude. A quiet joy that threatened to overflow. When you pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours, eyes still closed for a moment more, like he was afraid that he was going to wake up from a dream if he opened them too soon.

“Is that a yes?” he murmured against your lips, and you could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was small. Shy almost. Disbelieving.

“That’s a hell yes,” you replied. The smile that broke across his face made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and you could visibly see the tension fall away from his shoulders.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically laying on top of him, your foreheads touching as your breaths mingled in the space between you. This close, you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. The tiny scar above his eyebrow. The freckles that scattered across his nose like constellations.

He pulled you down to him, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, your jaw. Any part that he could reach. You could tell in the way his hands trembled that there was a part of him that couldn’t believe it. But he still held you like you were a promise he intended to keep.

And in the circle of his arms, you knew without a doubt that you didn’t need the picket fence. You didn’t need the two-point-five kids. You didn’t need the whole apple pie life. Not if you had him.

Dean Winchester never half-assed anything.

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to start with love.

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dean taglist: @jollyhunter @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @maddie0101 @sir-thisisadndserver @colours-of-thewind @kiddieclaws @mostlymarvelgirl @rurwu @imalapdog @losers-clvb @zyra-7 @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @alexfms97 @jbear750 @tinysnacklefan @chevroletdean @pisces-celeste @springflwer07

Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist!

#zepskies 5k #dean winchester x you #spn #dean winchester #supernatural #No use of Y/N #no beta we die like men #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural x reader #reader insert #X reader #jensen ackles characters #supernatural fanfiction #fluff #dean winchester drabble

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darklucielle · 11 hours ago

Text

Desperate to win

tripleS Hayeon POV x M Producer (Reader)

Tags: CNC, Rough, Oral, Anal, Creampie

A kpop girl group tripleS is currently filming the season 3 of 'Badge Wars', In cooperation with 1theK. All of us are enjoying it so far. At the first game where we ran towards to the floating tewaks and just hoping I will get a welcome badge. The twist is we can steal the tewak from others. My victim is Joobin.

I got a welcome badge but the rest of my members are calling me a villain because I made Joobin cry. Game is a game. That time, I swore to myself that I will win this season. No matter what.

I even 'Betrayed' my team for hogging the badges all by myself. So far, I got 10 badges. That made me a top one and leading from others. I have a high chance of winning this season.

Until the betting game. Where I can earn two more badges if my bet is successful but just a seconds later, I lost two badges. Walking back to the Class S accomodation heartbroken but I refused to give up.

After the filming. My fellow members are sleeping soundly but I couldn't sleep because all I'm thinking is how to win this season 3. Knowing others like Yubin and Jiyeon are catching up.

I decided to sneak out and walk outside for a fresh air. While walking through the cold night, I saw you. You're the show's producer since season 1. You're smoking a cigarette as you sat on your car's hood.

Producer-nim! I called out. It made you surprised. I sat beside you.

What are you doing here at this late hour, Hayeon? Why aren't you sleeping. There will be more games tomorrow.

How could I sleep when I lost my two badges from betting it? Ugh! My members going to laugh at me when this show starts airing.

This is why you shouldn't be overconfident. You had a chance to leave if you wanted to preserve your ten badges but you took the risk. That's a variety show for you, Hayeon. You took a long drag of your cigarette before blowing the smoke into the cold night air.

You're right tho. I was too into myself. Wanted to win this season 3. All them are focused at me. I won't give up until the very end.

Goodluck to you then.

So... Producer-nim. Leans closer to you. My eyes locked on yours. How about we make our deal? I'll be your little slut, Inexchange of informations about future games and how to win it.

My words made you stopped smoking and laughed at me. You shaked your head as if i'm joking around. You know what? You're ridiculous, Hayeon. How can you use yourself just for informations. You're not thinking stra--- Hey!

I stole your cigarette and puts it on my lips. Takes a long drag then lets out a smoke out of my mouth.

Hey! You shouldn't do that! You're an idol, remember?

Oh please, Producer-nim. Idols are also human beings. Some of us idols are smokers. Infact... I smoke my first cigarette when I was in middle school. I'm just good at hiding it.

You know what? I saw you... Saw you looking at us when you thought no one is watching you. Looking at us in that hungry eyes of yours. So thristy of a young flesh, aren't you? grins wickedly.

W-What!? Are you crazy? I'm not like that, Hayeon!

chuckles at your petty defense. My hand placed at your thigh then slowly dragged my fingers dangerously to your crouch. Oh... but your buddy is telling it otherwise. So hard and throbbing just by my touch. What a pathetic man you are, producer-nim.

Finally, I groped your erect cock through your pants. Gripping it hard as I saw you struggling to push me away.

Are we in or not? If you helped me win this season 3... leans to your ear. We can fuck whenever you want. Oh.. I heard your bias is Chaeyeon, right? One day, You will get a chance to fuck her. To taste her big and bouncy breasts. I saw it before, her nipples are big and pinkish.

After a while. You finally given up and nodded. Fine... Let's deal then.

Your submission made me smile. Finally, with you at my side. I can win this season! Great! Now.. shall we move to a more private place to 'seal our deal?'

You nodded. Follow me.

I threw the cigarette then follows you to your private quarters. Everyone is asleep at this hour. It's thrilling and risky but I'm all in for this, just to win.

We entered your private room. I quickly unzips my jacket and threw it away carelessly. Next, I lifts off my top to expose my topless body. My hands squeezing my perky breasts.

Come and touch me, producer-nim. I want to feel your hands on me. Lipbiting myself as I enjoyed seducing you. All men are same anyway.

Fuck.. Hayeon. You such a slut. You groped my breasts. Your thumbs are rolling my hard nipples. My back arched to your touches. Wanting for more.

You sensed that I need more than just groping. You sucked my nipple like a thirsty man in the dessert. Suckling and moaning noises fills the room. You kept switching from my breast to other one.

Goddamn it.. I can't wait anymore, Producer-nim. I want you cock so bad!

I sinked down to my knees and tried to unbuckle your belt like a kid who can't wait to unbox a gift. Pulled down your pants then pressed my face to your erection through your briefs. Inhailing your manhood scent like a maniac.

Oh God.. It's been long since I fucked with a man. Let me use my skills. Okay? Pulled down your briefs then your cock sprang and hit my face.

Oh my.. oh my... Seems like you taking care of your cock huh? Without further ado. I slowly licking it from base until the tip of your cock. As I reached the tip, I swirled my tongue at it. Tasting your pre-cum.

Hmmmm~~ Good than I thought. Slowly sucking your cock. Takes my time to suck it inch by inch until my nose is pressed against your pubic bone. slowly pulling up unti the tip is on my mouth sank it deeper once again.

Shit! Hayeon! Your mouth feels so good! Your praises made me continue what i'm doing. I know it's all wrong but I'm pretty sure I won't regret this at all. I continued sucking your cock while my eyes locked on yours. Taking it deeper as it touched the back of my throat. My saliva is leaking and drips down from my mouth. Creating a slimy mess on my breasts and floor.

Shit... Hayeon. I'm almost there. I redoubled ny efforts. Trying to make you reach your climax then I aburptly pulled out before you can cum.

What... What the fuck is that, Hayeon!

Oh.. don't be angry like that, producer-nim. If you want to cum, Do it inside of me. But first...

Stands up then pulled down my shorts. Revealing my clean shaven cunt to your sight. I lay down on the bed and spread my legs wide for you. Eat me out, producer-nim. Prove it that you're worthy to cum into my womb. Fingers spreading my pussy lips apart, showing you how wet I am for you.

You never wasted any second as you climbed and positions your head between my thighs. I'm going to make you scream, bitch.

OH FUCK! YES! GO AHEAD! EAT ME OUT, YOU PATHETIC IDOL GOONER! Threw my head back as you devoured my glistering sex. I rocked my hips as I wanted more of that delicious friction.

My hands went to grip tight your hair. My thighs locked around your head as I keep grinding myself to your mouth. Each swipe of your tongue, suckling and your teeth grazing at my sensitive flesh makes me feel heavenly insane.

I'm almost there, producer-nim! Ahhh!! fuck! fuck! fuck!

I come undone to your mouth. You're busy drinking my juices. Lapping it until the very last drop. I collapsed in the bed. Exhausted but satisfied.

Go ahead, producer-nim. Claim your prize. Fuck me very well. I want it raw and rough.

You smirked then positioned yourself between my legs. I can feel your cock nudging at my wet entrance. No need to worry, It's safe to cum inside me.

After my reassurance. You slowly penetrating my wet cunt. Splitting it open deliciously. Filling me up perfectly.

OH MY FUCKING GOD! YOUR COCK FITS SO WELL LIKE WE'RE MEANT TO BE!

You start thrusting hard and deep. Your hands groped my breasts while pumping me in and out. My eyes rolled up and tongue out as I felt so much ecstasy.

More... More... Please fuck me more! You leaned down to capture my lips in a hungry kiss. I wrapped my arms around your neck while my legs around your waist. Locking in to feel you deeper and rougher inside of me.

Your cock is... so damn good, it made me.. forget about the.. badges. fuck...

The sound of skin slapping skin, our moans and the bed creaking so loud fills the whole room. Away from others who's still sleeping and clueless about this.

You're going to cum, aren't you? I'm almost there too. You redoubled your efforts as I held my hips upwards to take you deeper. The feeling of your cock knocking at my womb so many times, makes me chase my own orgasm.

I'M GONNA CUM SO HARD INSIDE YOU, HAYEON!

YES! YES! DO IT! FILL ME UPPPP!!!

We finally reached our orgasms. Coating our genitals with our mixed semen and juices. The feeling of your hot thick cum filling inside me is just irreplaceable feeling.

We both breathing so hard. Took some time before you pulled your cock out of my filled cunt. Your semen drips out from it. I catched it using my fingers and seductively sucking it.

Hmmm~~ Taste better than I expected. Noticed that your cock is still hard despite what we did earlier. I chuckled.

Still hard huh? Well.. I know what to do. I flipped myself into my stomach. Raised up my hips then reached back to spread my butt apart. Showing you my tight butthole.

Don't worry, I have anal experiences before. Go ahead, producer-nim. Fill me up there too.

You immediately grabbed my hips and aligned your cock into my butthole. In a swift motion, I felt every inch and vein of your cock inside.

HOLY SHIT! YOUR COCK IS TRULY BETTER THAN CEO JADEN!

You started to pounding my ass hard and deep. Your balls slapping into my cunt. I didn't realized that I was drooling because of this insane sensation.

Don't tell me, you even seduced CEO Jaden. Such a slut you are.

Of course, I did! It was a final evaluation and I was on the verge of not getting picked into the lineup. I tried my best to make him feel good and tada! I debuted.

OH! GODDAMN IT! YOU MAKE ME GET ADDICTED TO YOUR COCK! I wailed. I burried my face into the pillows as you keep thrusting my butthole.

You pulled me upright using your arm then kissed my lips. Your other hand reached down to finger my cunt faster.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! KEEP DOING IT! MAKE ME CUM AGAIN!

After a few thrusts, You finally came inside my butthole. At the same time, I came. Squirting to your fingers and the bedsheets.

FUCK... That was the best sex I ever had!

Slowly you pulled it out from my used butthole. Your cum leaks from it. We collapsed back to the bed. Reaching out to cling into you.

After a while. I looked up and smiled. So... about our deal, producer-nim.

You looked at me and sighed. Alright.. Alright..

You told me about the morning gane which is guessing the kpop songs by teams. You even revealed that we will gonna play some games at the mountains then a final game between three finalists where me and the other two will race into the spot where I will solve a shapes puzzle to get a series of keys for a chest. That chest contains a golden badge that will declare a winner.

Wow.. That was quite an information there, producer-nim. I chuckled.

If I remember it correctly. You said that If you win, we will fuck whenever I want then also have a chance to fuck Chaeyeon, right?

I nodded eagerly. Yep! That's right. If I lose, then this will be our first and last sex. Unfortunately.

I... I understand.

Good! I kissed your lips then rolled out from the bed. I should go back to the accomodation now before anyone sees us here together. Picks up my clothes and swiftly wears it then my jacket.

Stopped by the door as I turned to face you. Whatever happens, please don't forget about me. About us. With that, I left you alone in your room. Running towards to the accomodation nearby.

The next day, Filming continues as we played the remaining games until the final gane where I will compete against Yubin and Jiyeon.

Unfortunately, I didn't win this season. It's a neck to neck battle and Jiyeon won.

Before boarding in the bus to the airport. We have to say goodbyes to the producer and staffs who helped us along the way. Without them, the three seasons of 'Badge Wars' won't exist.

As we faced each other. I noticed the sadness in your eyes. I bowed at you and smiled.

-End-

#girl group smut #kpop x reader #female idol smut #triples smut #jeong hayeon #darkluciellesmuts

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m-robinavitch · 2 days ago

Note

hi could i request trope 4 and robby?

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Trope: Forced Proximity

Warnings: panic attacks and anxiety

“Must you follow me everywhere?” Harshly you whispered, grabbing a handful of gauze and bandages to restock the carts around the Pitt.

“I happen to need supplies too sweetheart,” Robby answered- coming up behind you to grab at the gauze as well. Unnecessarily pressing his chest against your back, warm and strong and it’s so familiar in more ways than this one. “You’re not the only one who works here.” You and Robby had a- well a thing. A rendezvous of sorts after a night of too much drinking. And then it happened again. And again. Until no alcohol was needed to have you both tumbling into each other’s beds. He butted heads with you at work- challenged your calls and questioned your answers. Robby liked being in control and you frustrated him to no end. You were smart and gorgeous and liked to push his buttons just to get a rise out of him in more ways than one.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smiles at your words as you turn to face him. Chest to chest now, brushing against each other and he watches as you let yourself eyes drop to his lips. No. Absolutely not. Last time was the last time. You shove past him with the supplies in hand- hearing the way the storm raged on outside and how the lights flickered above head every few seconds. It was the heavy season for rain and thunderstorms and right now you were caught in the middle of it. The ER was busy with people coming in to seek shelter or those who were caught outside in the middle of it. And again the lights flickered- until they didn’t come back on. And when you walked to the door it didn’t open with your badge. You need power to scan, need power to open the doors and the backup generators haven’t kicked on yet. “Fuck.” You can’t be locked in here with him. You can’t be stuck here. Your mouth went dry and you dropped the supplies in hand to bang at the door and yell out for help.

“They can’t hear you, and even if they could you need power to open the door,” Robby called out behind you, sighing and putting the supplies back before trying to call Dana or Jack. But you didn’t stop yelling. You didn’t stop banging at door and there were hot tears steaming down your face. He knew you were claustrophobic- knew you didn’t like to use the elevators but you were panicking now. You couldn’t breathe. You felt like your lungs were being sucked out of your throat because every time you tried to swallow there was a lump and you just couldn’t stop the short breath of panic. “Hey- stop. You need to stop you’ll make yourself pass out. Come here.” Robby grabbed your arms to pull you into him, grabbing your face to make you look at him. He’s never seen you like this. You’re always loud and sure of yourself and arguing back with him. Even in his bed you’re pushing him back and claiming control and-

“I- I can’t- Robby I-“ you were gasping now. Your hands grabbing at your throat. How long have you been here already? It’s so hot in here. The air was choking you. You felt like the walls started to close in and make the room so much smaller and- Robby was kissing you. His mouth was on yours- soft and sweet and you gasped when he did it. Slowly his mouth moved with yours and your hands dropped from your own throat to reach for his hands on your face. Your breathing slowed, your mind stopped racing and the kiss was as good as you remembered it being from weeks ago. Robby’s hands dropped down from your face- pulling back to rest his forehead against yours.

“Breathe- okay? We’re fine, you’re fine.” Whispering, he sighs into your space and stops himself from kissing you again. Every kiss you’ve shared, Robby dreams of doing it over and over again. Robby dreams of having you in his arms- he dreams of sleeping next to you again every time you leave his bed. But this was just supposed to be some stress relief. That’s it. Because you don’t want anything more than the once a month hook up after work. At least that’s what he tells himself. Because he doesn’t think you want him like he wants you. Finally you both wind up sitting next to each other on the floor of supply closet, legs touching and fingers just ghosting against each other.

“Thank you-“ you mumble, willing the heat from your face away. Every kiss, every touch, every moment with him has you on fire. Every second you spend with him in the ER is like foreplay until you inevitably end up in his bed again. And again. And again. That’s all it is. Stress relief. Something to help the tension from the worries of the day.

“Any time sweetheart,” dark, heavy, soft eyes stared into yours. Telling you so much more than he’s saying. He’ll do anything for you. Even if he never gets to kiss you again Robby will come at your beck and call. Because right now your eyes dip down his lips again, begging him for another stress reliever in the middle of the supply room floor.

#trope tuesday #lexi answers life’s questions #my random typings #michael robinavitch #michael robby robinavitch #robby robinavitch #Michael Robby Robinavitch x reader #Michael Robby Robinavitch x you #Michael Robinavitch x reader #Michael Robinavitch x you #robby robinavitch x reader #robby robinavitch x you #Dr Robby #dr robby x reader #dr robby x you

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cherubkissesx · 22 hours ago

Text

coyote ugly

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!bau! reader

warnings: drinking, alcohol, dirty dancing 😏, violence, use of guns, kissing

synopsis: reader unexpectedly gets pulled out of her weekend job at a coyote ugly esque bar to go undercover for her other job at the fbi where her and her boss, hotch, get a bit too close for comfort.

a/n: this idea came to me after i watched coyote ugly hehe! also something to note is some of the things in here aren’t realistic for example reader working weekends at the bar which wouldn’t happen irl when you’re working for the fbi lol. anyways enjoy bbys. im thinking of making a part 2 to this lmk! not proof read oops

the nights you spent on a saturday and sunday at the coyote ugly bar working are the highlights of your week, of course second after the thrill of catching serial killers and putting them away for life. this little job you’ve had since you were a fresh eighteen year old and training at the academy helps you forget about all the gruesome sides of being out in the field. at coyote ugly, you get to unleash the pent up feelings of rage out by getting up on the bar and dancing your little heart out or by spraying the crowd with water.

you were currently showing off infront of a cute guy by showing him tricks you could do with a bottle of tequila while pouring him an entire row of shots, you wish you were exaggerating but the guy had ordered ten shots. “i hope those aren’t all for you, i wouldn’t want to cut you off so early” you teased. “of course not” the cute guy smiled and paid.

you heard one of your coworkers and closest friends, bella, shout something which meant you and the other girls had to get up on top of the bar and dance. you wasted no time in getting up onto the bar and doing the chereographed dance you had all practiced. all that could be heard from the crowd was hoots and hollers at all you.

you were in the middle of a dance when you felt a tap at your side, you looked down and it was your boss, tammy wanting to tell you something. you bent down so you could hear her properly “nice ass!” a man called out and you simply flipped him off and he backed off. “those two gentlemen are asking after you” tammy smirked. you followed tammys eyes and you seen hotch and morgan standing at the bar. derek was keeled over laughing and hotch as usual didn’t convey any emotion.

“oh shit!” you said. “is that your hotshot boss you’ve been telling me all about” tammy laughed. “shush!” you said eyes widening. you were about to jump down when a man wouldn’t let go of your leg. “knock it off shithead!” you shouted and when he still wouldn’t let go you had to take matters into your own hands. “bucket” you said to tammy and she handed you a bucket full of ice which you gladly poured over the man who let you go and called you a number of unkind names.

you hopped off the bar and walked round to meet hotch and morgan. “hi” you said shyly. “don’t act all shy now princess.” morgan laughed and you felt heat spread across your cheeks. “when you said your weekend job was like coyote ugly i didn’t expect it to actually be like the movie.” morgan said and you shrugged.

“what’s up anyways?” you asked a little impatiently. “there’s a case that we need you on, urgently.” hotch said putting the emphasis on urgently. “right okay.” you said your eyes widening a little. “tammy duty calls.” you say to your boss a little apologetically. “no problem, see you next week honey.” she smiles.

“honey? that’s your nickname?” morgan asked and began laughing. “because i was sweet like honey when i first started, not anymore.” you winked and morgan shook his head in amusement. you looked over at hotch who had a faint smile on his lips.

“this gentleman just ordered water! you know what happens when someone orders water!” bella shouted and pulled out the hose to begin spraying. “okay i’ll meet you both outside, seriously i wouldn’t want you both getting soaked.” you laughed and they made their way out.

once you gathered your belongings you realised you had no appropriate work clothes with you. you met hotch and morgan who were standing directly outside the building rather than inside the car. “your concern for me is so cute!” you giggled.

as you began walking you stopped dead when you noticed two cars and that’s when you released the whole team were there. “you guys brought the whole team?!” you said mortified and hotch simply shrugged and walked to the drivers side. you slide in the back snuggled inbetween emily and jj.

“i am never gonna live this down am i?” you asked in general. “nope!” emily laughed. “you look great though!” emily complimented. “this is the result of getting up on the bar and dancing like my life depends on it.” you laugh.

“i don’t exactly have any work appropriate clothes with me…” you trailed off. you looked down at yourself and you were wearing low waisted denim jeans, a cheetah print crop top that your boobs were practically spilling out of and red stilettos. “don’t you worry, this look is exactly right for tonight.” jj smirked. “i’m not following?” you said confused looking at everyone in the car.

“we’re going undercover.” hotch said and you were too shocked to say anything.

—-

on the way to bar you and the rest of the team were going to, hotch had caught you up on the unsub and the people they targeted. you had been told the unsub targeted couples where typically the man was older and the woman was younger, the dynamic between the two were usually married man and his sugar baby.

you had also been informed hotch was going undercover with you which made you internally panic. the team decided on you to be the sugar baby since you were the youngest and had the flirtiest and most outgoing personality.

“you can do this” jj smiled noticing how quiet you had gotten. “seriously you’re gonna nail the part, both of you will be so convincing.” emily smirked and you didn’t know exactly how to respond to that.

“yeah i will be.” you said mentally psyching yourself up. you all got out the car and you flipped your hair upset down and adjusted your boobs to sit perfectly. “atta girl!” emily whistled. “just trying to get into character” you laughed. “you’re already nailing it.” derek complimented. you looked over at hotch whose eyes getting flicking from your face to your chest which made your ego skyrocket.

“i don’t want you to panic but we can’t put a vest on you, your top won’t cover it.” hotch said which made your eyes widen practically out their socket. “i’ll be right here beside you.” hotch whispered in you ear offering you comfort.

“good” was all you could get out. “what about a gun?” you asked and hotch gave you a sympathetic look which again told you it would be too obvious and you groaned. “i know and im sorry we didn’t tell you to wear something less… revealing.” hotch said awkwardly which you couldn’t help laugh at.

“but i’m giving you this and i am going to be armed at all times.” hotch said handing you a taser which you gladly put in your back pocket. at the same time he was saying this emily was suiting you up with an ear piece which she managed to successfully conceal by pulling some of your hair forward.

“okay… let’s go.” you breathed out. deciding to get into character right away you looped your arms through hotches.

“okay?” hotch asked looking directly into your eyes to really check you were fine, it was as if he staring into your soul and knew everything that you were thinking. “okay.” you confirmed with a smile and you made a beeline for the bar. the bouncers had already been informed of what was happening so they let you both in no questions asked.

“if we’re going to make this more convincing you got to atleast get me a drink.” you whispered and pulled back smirking back at hotch who couldn’t help but resist. you and hotch went up to the bar where he ordered for the two of you, he didn’t even ask you what drink you wanted he knew. hotch had observed you and your habits whenever you and the team went out for drinks after a particularly hard shift, he knew what drink you liked to get you started and loosen you up.

“you know me so well.” you said and put the glass to your lips, making eye contact as you drank. you internally challenged hotch to break eye contact first since you weren’t and when he did you bit back a laugh.

you had had a crush on hotch ever since you first began working at the bau, there was something attractive underneath all of his sharpness and stoicness and you knew you’d be the one to crack that hard exterior wide open. one day.

you never stopped trying to charm him and get him to open up a little more and let you in, it was taking longer than expected but you knew you were close.

hotch couldn’t resist you either, it was like he melted whenever you asked him to do something or you wanted something he found that he couldn’t say no to you. however, he thinks he hides the fact you win him over everytime very well.

“there is a man staring right at us.” you said still smiling and looking at hotch while subtly flicking your eyes over at your new suspect as to not make it obvious. that was when derek came over you ear piece and confirmed what you had clocked.

“what now?” you asked as you couldn’t just remain sitting at the bar, you had to do something to captivate this unsubs attention and potentially get him to approach the two of you.

“can i have this dance?” hotch asked in a flirtatious tone. “you may.” you said back in the same tone and you both made your way over to the dance floor.

all of your years experience dancing at coyote ugly and being feral in your teenage years made you know you were qualified on how to dance to perfectly capture this unsubs attention. “trust me” you whispered into hotches ear and he looked confused.

you put your hands on his shoulders and started moving your hips slowly from side to side, hotch used this as his queue to put his hands on your hips and draw you into him closer.

you now started running your hands up and down his shoulders then his neck and finally his cheeks, you were going to kick yourself for this later since it was high inappropriate. you were about to pull his face close to you so his lips would touch yours but he got there first and pulled your face in with so much intensity that his lips crashed downed on yours.

you heard gasps over your ear piece which only increased the rapid rate in which heat spread across your cheeks and your whole body. his lips were moving gently with yours and he moved his hand to grab onto your hair roughly. you knew this was part of the act.

you drew back first and smirked and then you swiped your thumb across his lips wiping the lipstick you had left behind. you spun round and started swaying your hips dangerously close to his crotch. you felt how hotch stuttered in his movements then came to rest his hands firmly on your hips and started swaying you along to the music.

he put his head into the crook of your neck and you could feel his breath tickling you, a heat had began to form in your lower belly. “easy tiger” you heard jj chuckle over your ear piece which bought you back to reality.

“you looking for a third?” the suspect said making you practically jump out your skin and gasp. you sensed that hotch picked up on how your heart rate sky rocked as he steadied you at held onto your firmly. his way of letting you know he was there for you.

“what do you think, honey?” hotch asked smirking down at you, he used your nickname on purpose. no one outside of coyote ugly called you that. his use of your nickname has butterflies fluttering in your belly.

“only if you’re really up to it.” was your sultry response. “should we get out of here?” the suspect asked and both you and hotch nodded. okay this was getting real and you had to make sure you didn’t break character. you wouldn’t normally be this on each in normal circumstances, but circumstances weren’t normal as you weren’t protected in any way.

you heard everyone over your earpiece shuffling and moving around, they were quietly leaving behind you both.

you all were out of the club with the suspect walking infront of the both of you, when he suddenly spun round and shoved you roughly against the wall. the impact had winded. “what do you get off on stealing other people’s husbands?” the unsub questioned you getting up in your face but you froze. “what the fuck man?” hotch said shoving the unsub who pulled out a gun on the two of you and he suddenly hit hotch across the face with barrel of the gun.

hotch recovered quickly and that’s when hotch and you both drew your weapons at the unsub. “what?” the unsub said stunned. “FBI! i suggest you drop your weapon.” hotch said. you looked back quick and seen both spencer and jj with the guns also drawn, which meant the others were round the corner.

the unsub directed his gun at you and shot you in the abdomen with no hesitation and the most sinister look on his face. the impact immediately sent you flying to the floor and you quickly clutched your abdomen in pain.

“oh my..” hotch said about to bend down when spencer interjected. “i’ll stay with her, go with emily.” spencer basically ordered and hotch nodded and took off running with emily to get the unsub.

you heard spencer calling for help and declaring it an emergency. you were whining and screaming out in pain, spencer was right beside you but you were struggling to hear him as you were fading in and out of consciousness. your vision went white as pain was soaring through you which made you clutch your abdomen even tighter. you were not going to die.

then, everything went black.

#bau x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #bau team #female reader #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #derek morgan #x reader

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starktonyx · 2 days ago

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just wondering if you got any john walker singing headcanon? because i just watched a clip of the actor on youtube (from some movie idk) and he sounds really good and now im thinking about walker singing it was "wyatt russell-let your hair down"(in case you're curious)

Omg I have so many thoughts on this!! So buckle in cause we’re taking it from the start 😅

John Walker + singing headcanons.

Description: 1k word count | no specific gender for reader | angst & fluff | Includes: his strict upbringing, music taste, drunk karaoke, singing to his son, and eventually singing in front of you and the team.

Note: It's my second time writing headcanons and I’m loving making them, send them my way if you’d like to read more 🫶🏼

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

John Walker has a nice singing voice, but he never really talks about it.

It started when he was just a child. John grew up in southern military household, where being a man meant being tough and useful. So in that environment being ‘artsy’ wasn’t really encouraged, even if John was just a kid with a harmless hobby. He would hear things like “Men don’t sing unless it’s for the anthem or in a bar.”

He might’ve told his mom he wanted a guitar at some point, but his dad didn’t like it. “That’s for people with too much free time,” or “You have a bike if you’re bored.”

So he shut that part down early.

His upbringing influenced his taste in music too.

Of course he grew up listening to the masculine staples of American country music in his house. Those songs about whiskey and hard work were what his dad had in the truck playlist. Maybe even some rock tracks as well.

Naturally, that’s what he thought he was supposed to like.

But I do think he enjoys softer melodies, retro love songs. In my head he loves Sinatra. I can see him humming “Fly me to the moon” while he makes dinner alone at the tower. Or maybe singing “My way” when he’s feeling dramatic while driving late at night.

He’s also a punk kid at heart. He relates to Linkin Park and Green Day songs. Those are his choice for workouts.

As for more recent music, he knows the lyrics to almost every Adele song but he would rather die than admit it.

He used to be a drunk karaoke kinda guy.

Before the serum, back when he could still get drunk, with enough drinks in his system the bar’s microphone looked a little too tempting.

He did it a couple times, sleeves rolled in, a little wobbly on stage but still managed to give a decent performance. Lemar, also drunk as hell, was way exaggerated clapping and whistling just to embarrass him. John always brushed it off like it was nothing, but with all that buzz in his blood it was one of the few moments he allowed himself to feel something out loud.

He sang for his son when he was born

John used to sing to his baby when he woke up crying in the middle of the night. Lullabies, old songs, soft ballads. He’d hold his tiny newborn against his chest, swaying gently and humming something slow until he drifted off. That was his safe space. It was in the privacy of his nursery, in the dark, when the world didn’t expect anything from him. Maybe those were the only times he felt like he was a good father.

But once the house was empty, once his kid was no longer there, he stopped singing entirely for a long time. Because without someone to protect or soothe … singing felt useless. And uselessness was something he was never allowed.

Now he only sings when he thinks no one is listening.

John has a new living place now, with a team never asked to be part of. But he’s trying. Trying to let his past go along with everything he’d repressed through the years.

He sings in the shower, when he thinks he’s alone. One day you arrive earlier from a mission and catch this soft, scratchy voice singing some old tune, muffled by the sound of running water. He cuts it off immediately once he notices you are in the room. He thinks you didn’t hear him, but you do on a few more occasions after that.

You bring it up one time you’re curled up in the couch, head laying on his chest, casually mentioning that you caught Bucky humming earlier in the week, and how weirdly nice it was.

And then, trying to be encouraging, you tell him “I bet you have a nice singing voice too.”

He gets quiet, and you can’t see his face. But maybe that’s what helps him open up.

“My boy liked it.” He mumbles, nostalgic. “I used to sing more when I was younger, but my dad didn’t like it. Said singing was for people who had too much time in their hands.”

Your heart aches for younger him, for that version of John he might’ve been if the world had let him soften earlier.

“Now I can’t even get drunk, and Lemar’s not here anymore, so no more buzzed karaoke nights … and my son, well … you know. I guess I just don’t have an excuse to do it.”

“You don’t need an excuse, John.”

“Feels like I do.”

Your voice is gentle, like you don’t want to scare the kid still inside him. “You don’t. You’re allowed to enjoy things just because you want to.“

It starts slipping out more after that conversation. One time when he was piloting, he began singing under his breath without even realizing it. It was low, and mostly to himself, completely lost in his own head.

But you noticed. The team noticed.

And then one day he’s cooking dinner for the team, because he’s tired of them eating pizza for a week straight and calling it “a meal”. He acts nonchalantly about it, but he even went to the farmer’s market earlier that day to get fresh ingredients.

You’re siting on a stool, while the rest of the team is scattered through the living room, throwing curious glances at Walker moving across the open kitchen like he was some kind of professional chef.

And then you all hear it.

He starts singing to himself while he stirs some vegetables with a spatula on a pan.

And you bet the team FREAKS out. Because he is already making them dinner and now he’s also singing. Like singing singing. And turns out his voice is unexpectedly nice.

None of them understood how someone could marry him (or date him, like you) but that scene makes them realize maybe John Walker was husband material after all.

It makes you realize how domestic he actually is, he just needs to feel safe to let it out again.

Even if it’s just singing.

Bonus HCS.

One time you had a pretty bad nightmare and couldn’t come down from it, until he began singing to calm you down.

When the team has karaoke nights he’s incredibly reluctant at first, but with enough encouragement (from you and probably Bob) he starts participating.

You start having roadtrips and he finally let's himself sing along with you, windows down, not a care in the world.

The team tells Valentina Walker has a nice voice to mess with him, and she makes a HUGE deal out of it because what do you mean one of her Avengers sings!! She forces him to sing something for social media and he totally does it off-key to get her off his back. It works.

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

Feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading <3

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lila-lou · 2 days ago

Text

✨Build for stayin´✨

Summary: You get your period early in a new relationship and try to tough it out, expecting the usual awkwardness. Instead, Beau shows up with patience, comfort, and zero judgment — turning a bad night into something unexpectedly tender.

Pairing: Beau x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2625

DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes.

You had been dating Beau for only a few weeks now, barely enough time to even figure out his favorite pizza topping, let alone show him the messier, more complicated sides of yourself. You were younger than him by quite a few years, and every guy you had ever been with before had handled the idea of a woman’s period like it was some sort of alien invasion. Some were disgusted, others just plain ignorant. Either way, you had learned to keep it to yourself.

Which was exactly what you were trying, and failing, to do tonight.

It had started back at the grocery store, not long after Beau picked you up after his shift. One minute, you were fine, holding his hand and teasing him about his obsession with the hot bar chicken wings. The next minute, a cramp hit you like a sucker punch, and your mood nosedived straight into the floor.

You had tried to cover it up with a tight smile, but you ended up snapping at him when he took too long picking a pasta sauce. And then again when he insisted on carrying all the bags, like he thought you were made of glass or something.

Now you were curled up on Beau’s couch, your arms wrapped around your middle, feeling like absolute crap. He was somewhere in the kitchen, clattering around like he was making dinner, but you couldn’t even focus on what it was. All you could think about was how much you wanted to cry for no reason and how badly you wished the earth would just swallow you whole before you embarrassed yourself any further.

You winced when another cramp twisted through you, and a frustrated noise escaped your throat before you could stop it.

Beau must have heard, because the next thing you knew, he was standing in the doorway, a worried look in his green eyes. “Hey”, he said, voice low and gentle, like you were a spooked horse. “You okay, darlin’?”.

You immediately sat up straighter, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack your face in half. “Yeah. Fine. Just tired, that’s all”.

Beau didn’t move. He just stood there, watching you like he could see right through all your bullshit. “Did I do somethin’, sweetheart?”, he asked, voice even softer now. “Piss you off somehow?”.

You clenched your jaw, the shame curling tighter than the cramps in your belly. “No!”, you snapped, sharper than you intended. “God, Beau, not everything is about you”.

The words hung between you for a second, too heavy, too harsh, and immediately you wished you could reach out and yank them back.

But Beau didn’t flinch. He didn’t look angry or wounded. He just nodded a little, like he understood you were hurting even if you couldn’t say it out loud. Like he wasn’t going to take your mood personally.

He pushed off the doorframe and walked over to you, slow and steady like he was approaching a wild animal. His big hands slid onto your thighs, grounding you, his thumbs rubbing gentle, mindless circles against your jeans.

“Alright”, he said, so calm it made your eyes sting with tears you refused to let fall. “Ain’t about me. Got it. Still doesn’t mean I’m gonna leave you sittin’ here sufferin’ by yourself”.

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him you didn’t need him fussing over you, that you were fine, really, but he squeezed your leg gently, cutting you off before you could spit out more bullshit.

Beau stayed crouched in front of you, his thumbs still stroking slow circles against your jeans, his gaze never wavering from your face. So steady. So heartbreakingly patient.

And God help you, under that steady warmth, that unconditional way he stayed when every part of you expected him to back away, you cracked. The first tear slipped down your cheek before you could even think about stopping it. Then another. And another.

You dropped your head into your hands with a broken little sound, trying to muffle it, but it was too late. Your whole body shook, a miserable, cramping, tear-stained mess.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart…", Beau's voice was barely above a whisper now. You felt the couch dip beside you as he shifted up, one arm sliding around your back, the other hand tilting your chin up so you had to look at him. Not to trap you, but to make sure you knew he was still right here.

And in that moment, watching the way you folded under something invisible, something hurting you deep inside, a thought slammed into him hard enough to steal his breath.

She's either pregnant… or she's on her period.

Beau blinked at you, heart thudding painfully against his ribs. The rational part of him knew it was way too soon — hell, you’d barely been dating long enough to know all each other's quirks. But another part of him, a deeper, quieter part, ached with a fierce, stubborn kind of hope. A baby. Your baby.

He shook the thought off for now, forcing himself to stay in the moment. Right now, you needed comfort, not crazy daydreams about what might be.

He wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, so gentle it made you hiccup another sob. "You’re alright, darlin'", he murmured, pulling you into his chest. "I got you. Nothin' you can say or do is gonna scare me off, y'hear?".

You curled into him without thinking, your hands gripping the soft fabric of his flannel shirt like a lifeline.

Beau rocked you slowly, his hand warm and steady on your back, his mouth brushing the top of your head in the softest, most reassuring kiss. He didn’t push you for answers. Didn’t make you explain. Just held you tighter every time a new sob wracked through you, riding it out with you like it was his own battle to fight.

After a few minutes, once your sobs had quieted down to little, shaky breaths, he leaned down, his mouth brushing your temple, his voice rough and low.

“You can tell me what’s goin’ on, darlin’”, he whispered, like it was a secret meant just for you. “Even if the damn pasta burns to hell on the stove”.

You let out a wet, broken laugh against his chest, the tiniest sound, but he caught it, like he caught everything about you, and you felt his lips curve into a soft smile against your hair. “You’re more important than dinner”, he added, rubbing a slow, soothing hand up and down your back. “Way more”.

You sniffled, scrubbing at your face with the sleeve of your sweater, feeling raw and embarrassed and yet… so stupidly safe you could hardly stand it. “It’s stupid”, you mumbled, still not quite able to meet his eyes.

“Doesn’t sound stupid if it’s got you hurtin’ like this”, Beau said, firm and certain. “C’mon, honey. Hit me with it”.

You breathed out a shaky sigh, twisting your fingers in the hem of his shirt, clinging to him like you needed to borrow his steadiness for just a minute longer. “It’s just…”, you hesitated, the words thick in your throat. “I’m on my period. It just… started. Earlier. At the store”.

There. You said it. Braced yourself for him to pull back, wrinkle his nose, make some awkward excuse to leave the room like every other guy you’d ever known.

But Beau just hummed low in his chest, like you’d told him the most natural thing in the world. Like you’d said the sky was blue or the grass was green. “No wonder you’re feelin’ like hell”, he said, pressing another kiss into your hairline. “You shoulda told me sooner, sweetheart. Could’ve saved you all this sufferin’”.

You huffed a breath, part laugh, part disbelief. “Yeah, well. Not exactly romantic”.

Beau chuckled, the sound low and warm against your ear. You felt it rumble through his chest before he even spoke. "Hell, darlin’, romance ain’t just flowers and fancy dinners", he said, his voice dipping into that teasing drawl that always made your stomach flip — even now. "Sometimes it’s holdin’ your girl while she bleeds like a stuck pig and still thinkin’ she’s the prettiest thing in the room".

You let out a half-horrified, half-hysterical laugh, swatting weakly at his chest. "Beau!".

He caught your hand easily in his much bigger one, lacing your fingers together with a soft, shameless grin. "I'm just sayin'", he drawled, all fake innocence. "Still crazy about you, bleedin’ and all. Might even be a little hotter now, if I'm bein’ honest".

You groaned, burying your face against him again, but this time it was from sheer mortification — and the tiniest spark of affection that warmed your aching chest.

Beau laughed again, but it faded into something softer as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head. His hand stroked up and down your spine, slow and soothing. "Alright, honey", he murmured against your hair. "You stay put. I’m gonna grab that sad excuse for pasta off the stove before we set off the smoke alarm. And", he added, pulling back just enough to wink down at you, "I’ll grab that warm water bottle Emily left last time she was here. Think she even left one of those fuzzy covers on it too".

You blinked up at him, your heart clenching so hard it almost hurt. Somehow, in the space of a few minutes, Beau had turned your worst nightmare into something bearable. Into something safe.

"You don’t have to", you whispered, still half in disbelief that he was being so… him.

Beau squeezed your hand gently before standing up, towering over you in the soft lamplight, looking like the most solid, dependable thing in your whole world. "Darlin’, when I said I was yours, I meant all of it", he said, voice gruff with something that sounded dangerously close to love. "Good days, bad days, ugly cryin' days. You ain't gettin’ rid of me that easy".

With that, he ruffled your hair affectionately, earning another tiny glare you didn’t really mean, and disappeared into the kitchen, already muttering something about how he was gonna owe you a proper meal once he salvaged whatever disaster was happening on the stove.

Later that evening, you found yourself exactly where you never knew you needed to be. Curled up against Beau on the couch, a thick, soft blanket wrapped around both of you like a cocoon. The warm water bottle, tucked snugly against your stomach, radiated heat that dulled the worst of the cramps, and Beau’s hand resting lazily on your hip did more to calm you than any medicine ever could.

The TV flickered quietly in front of you, playing some old western movie Beau had picked — because, in his words, “it’s a classic, darlin’, and it’s got horses, so really, it’s a win-win”.

You weren’t even really following the plot. Between the throbbing in your stomach and the way Beau’s chest rumbled under your cheek every time he spoke, it was impossible to focus on anything else.

Because, of course, Beau wasn’t just watching the movie. No, he was explaining every second of it to you — in that deep, lazy, ridiculously sexy voice of his.

“Now, see”, he murmured, his thumb rubbing slow, absentminded circles against your hip, “he’s only pretendin’ to sell out the ranch, but what he’s really doin’ is settin’ up a trap for the bad guys. Smart as hell, that old cowboy”.

You hummed a soft sound of acknowledgment, more to let him know you were listening than anything else. Honestly, you couldn’t have cared less about the ranch or the bad guys or whatever double-cross was happening on the screen.

You were too focused on the steady rhythm of Beau’s voice, the way it wrapped around you, low and warm, sinking into your skin like sunlight.

“And that fella there”, Beau continued, tapping your side lightly to get your attention, “he’s the muscle. Ain’t got two brain cells to rub together, but he’s loyal. Important to have people like that around. Folks you can count on”.

You tilted your head up slightly, just enough to catch the way his mouth quirked into a soft, crooked smile. “Like you?”, you teased, your voice still rough from crying earlier but lighter now.

Beau chuckled, the sound sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. “Nah, darlin’. I’m the whole damn package. Brains and brawn”.

You snorted, the sound muffled against his chest, and he laughed again, full and real, before dipping his head to press a kiss to the top of yours.

You tucked yourself even tighter against Beau’s side, your fingers fisting lightly in his shirt, the steady beat of his heart under your cheek making your eyes grow heavier with every second.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the quiet murmur of the TV and the soft, lazy sweep of his hand over your side.

Then, just as you were starting to drift somewhere between awake and asleep, Beau’s voice rumbled low against your ear — casual, but with a certain hesitation you didn’t miss.

"Y'know", he said, his fingers playing idly with the hem of your sweater, "earlier, when you started cryin' like that… part of me thought you might be tellin’ me you were pregnant".

You blinked up at him, startled, but Beau kept his eyes on the TV, pretending like he hadn’t just dropped a small bomb into the quiet room. He laughed, a little forced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Crazy, right? Only been a few weeks. Would’ve been somethin’ though".

He said it like it was a joke, but you weren’t stupid. You heard the way his voice went a little rough at the edges. You saw the flicker of something tender, something real, flash across his face before he masked it with another easy grin.

Your heart twisted painfully, sweetly, in your chest.

Without thinking, you reached up and cupped his jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble against your palm. Beau immediately leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself, his eyes finally dropping to meet yours.

"I’m not", you whispered, your thumb stroking across his cheekbone. "Pregnant, I mean".

"I know, sweetheart", he murmured, so soft, so damn good. His hand slid over yours, holding it there against his face. "Ain’t sayin' I expected it or anything".

You hesitated, heart thudding, the words bubbling up before you could stop them. "But someday…?", you asked quietly.

Beau's smile softened into something so tender it nearly broke you. "Someday", he promised, his voice a rough whisper. "If you want it. If you want me".

You swallowed thickly, emotion burning behind your ribs. You nodded, just a small, shaky motion — but it was enough.

Beau leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, wrapping you up even tighter in his arms like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go. "Rest now, darlin'", he whispered against your hair. "I got you. Always".

And with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, his arms holding you safe and warm, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself dream. Of someday. Of always. Of Beau.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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