#but i also just. really wanted to write a bit about this

[bloodnight-blaze]

“ kiss me under the mistletoe! ”

ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, and sylus w a gn!reader.

synopsis: the holidays are long over, but that doesn't stop you from hanging up a mistletoe as an excuse to kiss your boyfriend.

notes: listen.... listen okay.... i can't wait until december to write this i have to get it out now.... lengths of each section may vary but i tried to keep it to an 8 paragraph maximum.

warnings: canon is vague so you decide, inaccurate timing of mistletoe i guess, very short and sweet and self-indulgent, just a lot of fluff and a lot of kissing, reader wears lipstick in raf's part bc i am desperate to cover that man in lipstick stains, zayne is a menace, sylus is also a menace, pet names used: cutie (r), sweetie (s).

XAVIER ��� is very confused when he wakes up from a nap to see mistletoe dangling in his face. Last he checked, it was the middle of January so he's fairly certain he didn't sleep the entire new year away. Though, it's not something that's entirely out of the question.

Behind the mistletoe he saw your smiling face, and you pull the plant away from him as he sits up, planting yourself right next to him and looking at him expectantly.

Xavier knew what the mistletoe meant, he just didn't quite understand why you were using it now, weeks after Christmas.

You don't seem at all concerned by the timing of this, just smiling at his confusion and raising the mistletoe up a bit as you speak, "This is the part where you kiss me, y'know,"

And while he might have some questions, he's never been one to deny you what you want.

A small huff of amusement, and then he's leaning in and pressing a soft kiss against your lips. You eagerly kissed back, barely able to contain the giddy smile on your face when the kiss breaks.

The smile on your face, coupled with the look of satisfaction in your gaze has him pulling you onto his lap, pressing a few more quick kisses to your lips before he's burying his face in your shoulder and letting out a small sigh.

His heart felt so warm, and even though he just woke up from a nap, he wouldn't mind falling back asleep like this. Which is exactly what he plans on doing, by the way, so any plans you had after your silly little idea are immediately canceled.

ZAYNE — would pretend not to notice it at first. He's not being mean, he just thinks the little frustrated pout you get when he acts like the mistletoe has always been there is cute, so he can't help himself. He's also curious to see just how far you'd go to get a kiss from him without having to ask.

It even becomes a game, of sorts, with Zayne sometimes acting as though he'd finally kiss you when standing under the mistletoe only to instead pat your head or press a kiss to your cheek.

You took his teasing as a challenge, and soon enough you somehow hung up mistletoe in all of the doorways in both your home and his. You even went as far as to hang one in the doorway of his office at the hospital.

A few of his coworkers had questioned him about it, and he couldn't stop the look of fondness that bleeds through his usual calm and collected demeanor, simply telling them that it wasn't any of their concern.

It all coalesces one night, maybe two or three weeks into trying to get a kiss under the mistletoe with him. He showed up at your apartment with dinner only to find you sitting at the kitchen counter, all the mistletoe you had put up set in a pile. Your arms were crossed, and you were glaring down at the plants as if they'd insulted you in some way.

"I give up," You say, a bit dejected. And Zayne feels a bit bad, admittedly, as he sets your dinner on the counter next to all the mistletoe. He doesn't really understand why you're trying to get an excuse to kiss him when you can just do it, but he'll humor you.

With a small sigh, he grabs one of the mistletoes and dangles it above your head. It's enough to get you to perk up, and you brighten immediately when he presses a kiss to your lips. It was quick, and when he pulled away, he mutters a soft, "Satisfied?"

"Hardly," You exhaled, but he covered your mouth with his hand before you could kiss him again, his lips quirking up in a slight smile at the frustrated sound that comes from you. You weren't getting anymore kisses until you ate dinner, no matter how pretty you looked with your puppy-dog eyes.

RAFAYEL — probably wouldn't even realize you had put mistletoe in the entryway of his home. At the very least, when he does notice it, he'll be far more interested in figuring out what shades of pant he could make with the plant rather than anything else.

You can't say you're shocked when you hurry back to his place after running a quick errand to find him crushing the mistletoe. You curse yourself for not buying a backup in case this scenario happened, but there wasn't much you could do.

That doesn't mean you were any less determined, however. The mistletoe may not longer be a plant, but it was in the paint he was making, and therefore the rules still applied, so.

Deciding to be patient, you would wait until Rafayel actually used the paint to make your move. The painting hung on his wall proudly when it was finished, a satisfied smile on his face as he watched you admire it for a few moments, "So? Would you say this is my new masterpiece, cutie?"

And you feign deep thought for a moment before you pull him down into a kiss. It wasn't heated, but it did last for a good second before you pulled away. Bewilderment in his eyes and a pretty blush dusting his ears and cheeks, you smile and simply nod to the painting on the wall, "Mistletoe."

It takes him a few moments to process your word, and his brows furrow slightly, "It's not even December," He says, though he certainly wasn't complaining when you pull him in for another kiss.

You kiss him until his face is covered in lipstick stains, and your lipstick was smeared. His breaths came out in small pants, a dazed look in his eyes when you finally pull away.

"...You're trying to kill me," He quietly accuses after catching his breath, and you can only laugh.

SYLUS — is rather amused when he steps into your apartment to see a thing of mistletoe dangling in the entranceway. He knew you were planning something from the moment you told him to stop by your place.

His amusement only grows when he sees you standing under the mistletoe, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible as he takes his jacket and shoes off. He doesn't need to ask questions, he's not a fool.

The mistletoe was there for a reason, one so glaringly obvious he couldn't help but feel a bit smug knowing that you were trying to find sneaky ways to kiss him. He was flattered, truly, but you didn't need to go to such lengths.

His hands were on your waist in an instant, and you don't miss the gleam in his eyes as he looks at you. Oh, he was never going to let you forget about this moment, and you were half tempted to pull away before he could get the chance to actually kiss you.

His lips capture yours before you can actually distance yourself from him, and it was much more gentle than you were probably expecting it to be. He kissed you like a man dying of thirst, and yet he controlled himself enough to not make you uncomfortable.

"You don't need to use a plant to kiss me, sweetie," He murmurs against your skin after breaking the kiss, instead taking to pressing light kisses against your jaw and neck.

The attention had your mind faltering for just a moment, and you grumble out a quiet 'whatever' before lightly pushing him away from you. You had to cover his mouth with your hand just to get him to stop kissing you. Not that it worked, because he just presses one against your palm, his gaze never leaving yours.

You're the one who wanted a kiss, even going as far as to bringing out mistletoe in the middle of January to achieve your goal. He's just simply giving you what you were asking for.

[kenwio]

Joker's kid! reader and how they life in manor started

Author's note 1: This part is huge, and it was a huge struggle for me to write (and rewrite), so I apologize if it feels crumpled T^T and there will be other author's notes

Warnings: long read, grammar mistakes (English is not my first language), mental issues, abuse

Bruce knew that eventually you will leave the madbay, you were there long enough to heal, but he had no idea how to bring you to the manor and he can't predict your reaction, seeing your reaction of everything in medbay, your confusion and fear that you showed looking at the simplest things. But other things concerned him even more.

Firstly, he knew that taking you to manor would include revealing of his identity to you, and identities of rest of the family. Secondly, the family.... he was worried about how they would react on you being there. So far, non of the kids interacted with you, and only Dick visited you while you were in the medbay, but he never saw you awake, thanks for the side effects of medicine that made you incredibly sleepy. And thirdly, you were a child of a villain, who knows what you are capable of? So what if you seemed harmless in the madbay? Plus, Bruce knew Tim and Jay expected only bad for you and Damians opinion of you was as bad if not worse somehow. Bruce knows it's going to be tough and he is not sure he can deal with it

Today was the day he would let you see his face and lead you up to the mansion. So, why did the world greatest detective was feeling icky? Was he afraid of you? No, you are just a kid, yes Joker's kid, but still a kid. Was he afraid your potential reaction? Not really, but he was troubled that he could predict it.

Maybe you didn't really show emotions, which was concerning, but also was made him feel more at ease, since you didn't show any signs of acting like your father.

You were sitting at your bed in medaby staring at your blurred reflection in the mirror. You couldn't clearly see yourself, but you were sure you looked a bit different and the clothes you were wearing now, simple t-shirt and pants, were much more comy and much more suited for a child, unlike that horrible suit.

- Hey, little one, how are you feeling? - he asked with strained gentleness

- I'm okay - you answered simply

- Since you are mostly recovered you will have to leave the medbay - he started saying. You were expecting something like that to happend, because why would he let you stick around? He alredy done much for you. As you were staying in the medbay you remember that Batman had a rule - a rule of not killing. Maybe that's why he helped you and healed you up, he probably just didn't want to let you die. You knew your father wouldn't really care of something happened to you, and he wouldn't even avange you, because why would he? You are just a pawn and he has bigger cards to cards to care about.

- So you will bring me back? -you asked, simply, which shoked Batman. You just now simply and dully asked him if he will bring you back to the crime alley ? How? Why? He felt his heart stinging at your emotionless reaction.

- No, I want to give you your new home

- New home? - you asked, confused. What did he meant by that?

- Yes. You will live with me, Alfred, and my sons. - he said calmly, looking at you, studying your reaction, he moved his hands closer to his mask. - that means you will know who I'm, and who are my allies are, which brings me to the point, before we could go to your new home, you must learn few rules, you understand right? - you only nodded in response. You were really confused. Why he wants you to live with you? Why is he okay with it? What was his reasoning?

The rules included: do not reveal our dentities to anyone, no wepons, no sharp object, no violence, no disobedience, mandatory emotional check-ins, mandatory seek of help when you need it, respect of boundaries and few other. You listened carefully when he explained every rule, trying to remember every detail, but you couldn't really understand that all. And you didn't really understood what will happened if you break the rule, but you didn't wanted to take chances.

After he explained the rules and you nodded to confirm you got the idea, he finally took his mask, and his face seemed to be familiar, and after few sections of thinking you said

- Oh, you are a man from newspapers - you remember seeing his face on some of the newspapers you used as blankets back in the crime alley.

- So I guess you know me? And you know my name - he asked, a bit confused by your reaction and use of wording

- uh.. I saw you, I don't really who you are - and it was true, you may saw him on newspapers, but you didn't really read them, there was too much words you didn't understand

- My name is Bruce Wayne, you can just call me Bruce. And since I introduced myself, it's time for you to introduce yourself too - he gave you a slight, gentle smile, encouraging you to speak up

- my name is (your name)

- Follow me, (your name)

So now you were following Bat...uh Bruce into various corridors of ... giant house? Castle? You didn't really know, but it was. You looked around, trying to take in at least some of the surroundings, but it was too much for you to remember. All you could say, the place was really luxurious... really like a castle, like one you saw in story book you manage to found one day.

Finally you arrived at the corridors there you assumed lived residents of the place. If you understood correctly while listening to Bruce, here manor two of his sons lived permanent: Tim and Damian, and two others, Richard and Jason, occasionally payed a visit. As you looked around corridor, you suddenly heard unfamiliar voice

- Father, you really decided to let them live here? - that voice sounded annoyed and angry

- Damian, we've talked about it - answered Bruce. You looked to father and son, who started conversation, taking in the appearance of short boy with spiky hair, and bright green eyes. So this is Damian.... as you looked at him, you noticed that his angry gaze never leaving you. His cold anger mixed with with annoyance made you visibly flinched.

- and I still stand my words, they are dangerous - young boy said, walking past his father, stopping in front of you - I was raised by assassins, don't think I won't see through your games - he said closing walking in his room and closing his door. You looked at him go, you expected this kind of greeting.

- Damian can be a little hostile at first- Bruce tried to soften up the atmosphere Damian created

- oh, it's fine, I understand -you answered calmly.

- so, most of those rooms are free so, feel free to chose one.

You walked through the corridor, checking if the room was taken or not, and you stopped at the far away room in the end for the corridor. Knowing that you would probably annoy others with your existence in the manor, you decided to choose exactly this room. You understood that your life here depended on how Batman, or how he told to call him Bruce, and his sons, and if you wanted to live peacefully you needed to try hard and not make him angry.

Bruce wanted to encourage you to take a room closer to others, but decided not to, so he would not discourage you

As you and and him walked in, you couldnt stop looking around. You would be living here now, and it felt like a dream.

- if you need anything call Alfred, and if you need me, just say so to him. - said Bruce as he left you to settle down. You looked around, taking in a surroundings by a bit empty previous guest room that just became yours. You sat down on the bed, feeling it's softness. You were still a confused, you felt fear as always, but also there was something else in the mix of your feelings, something much more lighter.

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In the morning you was woken up by the rays of sun. You didn't figured out how to close the curtains. Previously you didn't feel like going to dinner, so Alfred brought you sandwiches in your room so you at least could have a bite.

You looked out if the window, seeing beautiful geen garden. The sight was new to you, who grew up in the surroundings of dirty bricks and broken concrete. You watched sky, which looked more clear than in crime alley, clouds, birds, trees. It felt surreal, and it made this light feeling in your chest become stronger.

Alfred knocked soon after, he reminded you to wash your face and brush your teeth (something old butler had to explain you how to do) and said that he would lead you to the dining room.

Damian was already there, he tensed up once he saw you. You sat far away from him, sinking in your chair under his gaze.

Soon after you heard yawning coming form the way you've just walked in.

-Morning, Dams, morning Alfred - you heard the sleepy voice say - B left already?

- yes, master Tim - said the old butler putting coffee on place on the table near Damian's one.

- Drake - Damian said through teeth

- oh, look someon in a bad mood since morning, how - the boy sat down, suddenly stopping when he noticed you. He looked at you, not a word leaving him as he quietly staredat you for a few seconds with unreadable expression. Not knowing you decided at least to try to make the situation more strange

- hello? - you mumbled. And he just nodded. His gaze lingered a bit longer on your hair, before he looked away, looking visible uncomfortable. Alfred served the food soon after. It was one of the most tasty things you've ever ate, even if you could feel tension in the air that could be cut with the knife.

After Alfred was lead you back to your room and Bruce made a quick check up on you few hours latter you were left alone. You didn't really had anything to do: the books that were in the room were a bit difficult for you, and you didn't really had an idea what to do with crayons, because all the paintings that came in your mind were ones that were present on your father's "show scene". As you were loking at the window, you heard a sudden knock on your room's door. You turned around, awaiting too see an old butler, but was greeted with the sight of tall young man with wavy black hair, blue eyes, and slightly akward but nonetheless friendly simile.

- Hey, little one - he greeted - what are you up to.

- Hello - you mumbled rather shyly, looking at the window, when back at him.

- Oh, good-old window watching huh - you nodded, soon after adding

- You are?

- Right, I'm Dick, and what's your name?

- (your name)

- Nice to meat you. So, how are you here so far - he tried to striked up the conversation, before you heard familiar annoyed voice of Damian

- Grayson, I require your presence, now!

- Dami, just a minute - he answered

- now! - Damian repeated

Richard gave you an apologetic look - sorry, gotta go, but I would like to hang around you next time, if you Don't mind.

-I do not mind - you mumbled as you watched him left. The way he talked to you was unusual for you. It reminded the way how Bruce or Alfred talked with you, but it was warmer. It made that light feeling in your chest stronger for a bit, until it was taken away. It was strange to be talked with like that, but it was nice. Suddenly, you couldn't help but wish but to be talked with like that more.

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As day went by, you started slowly getting used to the life in here and rutine. You mostly spend your time around Alfred, following him as if you were a little ducking. He helped you around, explained how to do one or other things, helped you to find books you could read through, also old butler introduced to tw, but you quickly found out that cartoons were a bit much to you, so insted you settled on nature documentaries.

So here you were in the living room watching about life of animals in tropical jungle, when you heard heavy footsteps behind door, after that you hears how doors were heavily pushed open, you turned around, and saw tall and built tall and muscular guy, with short black hair with few white strands on them and book in his hands. Judging by his looks and what Alfeed told you so far you guessed it was Jason. Though, he seemed somehow familiar to you, yet you couldn't understand why...

- hello - you mumbled, looking at him.

He instantly frowned, you could see the same expression of anger on his face, the one you noticed on Damian constantly.

- what, old man really had his sanity kicked out? - he grumbled.

You were unsure of how to react, what to do. On one hand you could clearly see that Jason was mad at you the same way Damin were, so the plan was ether to hide in your room, or to stay quiet. On the other hand, even if you really didn't understand how to interact with others, in a short time you've been in the manor Alfred told you some basics of social interactions and politeness, one of which was to iniciate conversions, which made you want to give it a go.

- I just found out that some animals pretend to be dead so they wouldn't become a prey - you mumbled quietly, you really just learned that fact so you decided to share it. But it.your words seemed to make Jason even more mad.

- tsk, I see you, little psycho, are not so different from your crazy Dad - he spat out angrily, leaving you feeling down. You weren't like your dad, were you?

- I uh - you struggled to say, but you couldn't form your thought. What to answer to that? You weren't sure.

- don't even try, I don't like clowns -he spat out. Before you could say anything or he could continue saying things that left you sad, Alfred walked in.

- Master Jason, master Bruce awaits you in a batcave

- thanks - he said as he walked out, leaning you alone with your confusion and sadness, or so it was until you heard Alfred's cautious voice

- Master (your name)? Are you feeling alright? You seem to be a in your thoughts.

- I'm okay - you answered immediately, not wanting to worry old butler

- I see. - he answered, a bit thoughtfully, before speaking again - would you like to have some tea with cookies? - you nodded eagerly, remembering their sweet taste -when follow me to the kitchen

While you were enjoying tea with cookies, and looking how Alfred was busy preparing lunch, cutting greens with cooking scissors and chopping vegetables. He done this all fast and gracefully, leaving you amazed by his skills. In the middle of him cutting yet another green leaf, Alfeed was asked to go down to the cave by Jason, who walked away immediately after. Old butler put scissors near the edge of counter, and asked you if you knew how to get back to your room, before leaving. You just finished eating last cookie, when you heard metallic ring of fallen scissors. You walked to pick them up, but seeing your blurred reflection in them gave you an idea difference of original idea. Now you were on the way in your room.

Honestly speaking, you understood why your father was hated in this house, and you could understand why they hated you too, Joker is your dad after all, but you didn't like him to. In fact, he only brought you suffering. And you knew there wasn't a way to undone it,

But there is one thing you could do.

You walked in your room, I'm your bathroom, and in mirror you saw that one thing that reminded you of your father's the most. Your damaged green hair. Although while you were staying here, your hair grew longer and you could see your original color of hair, but green was still there and you hated longer green parts of your hair, his parts of your hair. Damian, Jason and Tim probably hated them too.

Chop.

You started cutting the green parts, leaving only strands of YOUR hair. It took awhile, it was hard. But few minutes after you were without them, and with fluffy uneven mess of a haircut on your head.

Putting all your green hair in a trash, you hurried back to kitchen. To your surprise, Alfred wasn't there yet. You put scissors in the sink, and returned to your tea, happy thay now you didn't had reminder of your dad on your head.

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After your sudden haircut, scolding, and another, but more professional haircut latter, Alfred decided to keep an eye on you. He had to admit that your desire to show difference form your dad finally made him warm up to you. But he was even more surprised when you said that you wanted to help him with tasks around the house and managing requests of boys and Bruce. Bruce found it a welcome change, but not all boys agreed with him

Which leads you to the present moment, you were cautiously carrying tray with coffee and snacks for Tim, since he skipped lunch yet again making Alfred worried yet again, when you were walking past Damian.To avoid him, you took a little to the other side, almost kicking off some sort of sculpture, which he caught, stopping in front of you, glaring at you

- Tt... use your eyes when you are going anywhere, pay attention - he grunted.

- I'm sorry - you said calmly, - cool move by the way - you said in attempt to soften the move

- I wasn't asking for your opinion. - he said, glaring at you one more time and saying - One false move and you'll find yourself dismantled faster than these figurines could hit the ground. Touch anything else in Father's collection, and you'll be practice dummy for my katana.

You tried not to flinch at Damian words, but did so anyways. It took you few minutes to calm down and continue your way towards Tim's room. You prepared to knock, but door was slightly agape.

- Tim? - you called, imitating Alfreds tone of voice. You saw how his hand gestured you to come in, so you did. You placed tray with coffee and snacks on his table. He glanced at you only for a second, before his eyes returned to the screen of his laptop, in that moment some sort of text appeared there, making him jolt, put laptop down and run away. You just stood there, not knowing what to do, you looked between door from which he left, and screen of his computer device, when another text appeared on it, and this time you could read it - "low battery. connect the charger"

Thanks to Alfred, you already knew what charger is, you just have to find it! You looked around, seeing too many wires around the room. You looked at the laptop, and saw too many ports. As you were unsuccessfully trying to find the right wire and right port, laptop's screen went dark. In that moment Tim walked in.

- What did you do?! - he asked almost yelling. Immediately going to the laptop

Nothing! - you panicked, and stepped away. He raised a hand and wave it. Not noticing yor flinch.

- just go, go away! You are messing all up!

If you thought you were shaky after encounter with Damian, this one definitely did.

Judging by Tim's reaction, you broke his computer. You didn't mean to, and you didn't knew if anyone will believe you that you didn't mean to do so. Maybe you'll need to apologize later, but right now, all you wanted is to talk with Alfred or to use up Bruces offer and talk with him if you needed it. In the state of panick you must have took the wrong turn, and bot seeing clearly before yourself, you bumped into Jason, after what you was pushed back and fell down in the process.

- you, little psycho! Don't you dare to touch me! - he yelled, making you flinch. For a second you felt like you was back with your father, pushed around, beaten and yelled at. As you were processing what happened, you didn't hear soft footsteps,

Jay, it was an accident. They just didn't not you - said Richard, trying to calm Jason down -yes, little one? - he said turning to you, but you were already running back to your room.

You cruled up in your blanket, hiding from the world and trying to calm down. You felt like crying. You probably did cry. It was all your fault. You almost broke figurine from Bruces collection, you probably broke Tim's computer, and you made Jason angry, so , Dick too was probably angry at you. Why had you just break thing, make everything worse. Maybe you should talk to Bruce.

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You didn't even notice how you feel asleep for a short time, but when you woke up, you decided to see Bruce, if anyone, he should know how to get allong with boys. And that's what you really wanted, to get along with them, just to feel safe.

The problem however was to find Bruce. You remember Bruce showing you where his cabinet and room was, however, you don't remember where exactly they are. You managed to find Alfred, who gave you a concerned look, but explained you where he was. He also said that all of them were having a movie night - Richard decided that everyone needed at least one bounding day a month, where all of them would gather and do something together. That got you a bit worried, because what if you ruin their movie night just like how you ruined everything today. But maybe you could apologize in front of everyone for being inconvenience and making them angry? You'll have to brace yourself . While thinking about it, you walked through various corridors, until you reached movie room.

There they were: While movie were playing on a big screen they sat on cozy sofa and armchairs. Bruce sat in the armchair, occasionally looking on the boys. You could see smile on his face. Dick sat in the middle of the sofa, watching with enthusiasm and actively commenting on the plot, eating popcorn. On one side if him, putting his head on Dick's shoulder, sat Tim, who was lazily laying on sofa. He sometimes corrected Dick or commented on CGI, whatever it is. On the other side of the Dick sat Damian, who tried to make an impression that he didn't like being here, yet even you could see through his act, and who tried to keep Tim's and Jason's hands away from popcorn. And near Tim, in the corner of sofa sat Jason, who teased Damian and Tim most of the time, argued with Dick on which character is better and successfully stole Dick's popcorn.

You've never seen a sight, that was as warm as this. It felt so warm, so cozy, so homy

It felt like family.

And here you were: in the shadow, not daring to make a step, to come in to join them, to afraid to ruin this perfect moment

You've never had a family in that sense of word, and what you had as a family, you wouldn't dare to call as such. In your family was no warmth, no care. There weren't a moment like this. But you needed them.

After you were taken in my Bruce you found out what care was, but even so it felt like it still was too far away from you, so far that you couldn't reach it. Maybe you didn't deserve it, but you wanted care you wanted love. You wished you could be a part of family you see right now. You want to come in. But you know you can't, you know you will ruin the moment if you will walk in now. You know that Damian will add another threat to a previous one, Jason will yell, Tim will shoosh away, and probably Dick and Bruce will silently agree with them and will say to you to come another time.

Your father is Joker, that's instantly makes you undeserving of care and attention. Well, whay to say if your own mother left you. And as for the batfamily, it's only natural to hate a child of their main enemy.

But what if you can prove you are not like your father? What if love and care are earned, and that's exactly why you didn't get them. When you will have to try and earn it. But for now, all you could do now, is to hide behind the door in another room, listen intently on every sound they make, cry silently, afraid of making any noise so you couldn't ruin the moment and wish you could be with them. Wish you was loved at least once in your life. Wish you were a part of their family.

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Thank you for reading and feel free to share your opinion 💖 have a good day

Author's note 2: I really badly wanna draw Joker's kid. I'd you are interested in my artworks , please let me know

Author's note 3: (1) In one of anonymous asks (here) one user had similar idea of what I had in mind. I hope I've done it good > - < (2) And I wanted to fit this idea from another ask (here) in the plot to, but I couldn't done it fully, I'm sorry T^T

Author's note 4 : to be honest, I have no idea what is tag list and how it works (I'm really sorry, but I'm not active social-media user), but few amazing people asked to tag them, and i hope I'm doing it right: @socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr

[polarisbibliotheque]

I wanted to talk a bit more about my original stories this year and, maybe, who knows, finish one or two - 'cause I always wanted to do that T-T

This post reminded me of one of the stories I had I liked most and I only wrote a few couple of lost scenes here and there (plot down the cut!)

But it's called "Tea House" so far and, basically: super tall weird guy with long black hair down to his waist owns a Tea House with books and whimsical treats like the ones in the pic which he prepares every single day and as customers go in, they don't order anything because he knows what they need.

Guy has a tiny pet owl who wears huge glasses and scolds him all day 'cause he is aloof and slow and chill and she "has to keep things in order", but he's the only one who can hear the owl. He also has tons of books which anyone can read - but no one can touch the tea kettles and tea brews kept in a special place.

People aren't really sure what he is, but some think he is an entity of some sort. He seems to be completely unfazed by the world and weirdly healing to every and any ailments his clients seem to have - the power of TEA.

Things turn a little more strange one day when a woman goes in and can see other customers - from eras different from her own - and she can hear the guy's owl speaking which freaks the poor pet out. When checking on her to divine which tea she needs, the guy freezes with fear: her eyes have a dying universe in them, with void taking over.

I'm still working on it and, to be honest, I stopped writing completely. But it's close to my heart. I might pick it up someday, just because I like writing disconnected entities learning how to be human and humans who have forgotten how to feel re-learning to do that as well.

And writing this right now kinda sounds like the plot of a Ghibli movie

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 3

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering.i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.9k

(Extra special shout out to @nitaekook for beta reading and holding my hand through this fic 😂❤️)

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Master List

“Where do you want these plates to go, my dear?” Jade asks from across the kitchen. 

You glance up at her from your spot on the brand new couch that was just delivered to the new apartment that morning. You’re sitting cross legged unpacking a box of the few things that you had brought over from the old apartment. In the kitchen, your best friend Jade (who is also Arthur’s girlfriend of about a year thanks to your meddling) stands holding up one of the new plates that you bought with her yesterday. 

“Wherever there’s room.” You say with a shrug, not really caring where the plates go because everything feels weird.

The apartment is pristine with its gorgeous hardwood flooring that Charles had refinished before you moved in, floor to ceiling windows that face out towards the water, and that new house smell that is totally unfamiliar and a little unnerving. You should be happy, shouldn’t you? Finally being free of the stifling apartment that you had shared with Lando should fill you with so much optimism and a sense of relief, shouldn’t it? But that’s not the case. Not even close. You’re scared and nervous and just the thought of deciding where those plates should go seems like the heaviest question you've ever been asked.

 Simply picking out the plates yesterday with Jade had been an ordeal and you had needed to take several moments to yourself while shopping. You liked your old plates that you had bought with Lando the week you moved in with him but at the same time, the thought of taking those to your new apartment was more painful than leaving them behind.

Jade must notice your anxiety because as soon as she finishes putting the plates and bowls in whatever cabinet that suits her fancy, she comes over to sit next to you on the couch. When she wraps her arm around your shoulders you melt into her in a desperate attempt to stop a fresh flood of tears from falling. It seems as if all you’ve done since leaving the old apartment was cry and if you’re not crying, you’re barely fighting off an incoming panic attack and jumping with every ding of your phone. 

“What’s going on, my love?” Her voice is gentle, like she’s talking to an injured animal that she doesn’t want to spook. It makes you feel pathetic, helpless, and angry for how much Lando has damaged you when he should have been loving you. 

You’ve known Jade for years now and she’s always been one of your closest friends. It was Jade that had been the first of your friend group to pull you aside almost a year ago to ask you if you were truly happy with Lando. She had seen the light dim in your eyes as your relationship with him progressed and watching you lose your spark had scared her. When you had told her the morning after your art show last month that you had finally decided to leave Lando, it had been so hard for her to tamp down her excitement that you had finally worked up the courage to leave him. 

“I should be happy, right?” You ask, voice cracking a bit with the heavy weight of what closing the door on the apartment for the very last time had done to you that morning. “I mean, I know I’ve been miserable for…” You scoff, “a really long time so shouldn’t I feel something other than heartbreakingly sad?” 

Jade tips her head so it rests on your shoulder, a humming sound playing at the back of her throat. “You’ve been with him for a long time, of course you’re going to be heartbroken. Youu’re doing the right thing though, I promise you. He couldn’t even stop playing that stupid video game long enough to support you last month!” 

You nod, memory flickering back to the fight in the hallway in front of Max. You hadn’t heard much from him in the weeks since that night aside from a few texts here and there and you had expected that. He probably was mortified at how you had behaved, embarrassed for you that you had allowed yourself to be treated that way in front him.

You wouldn’t have blamed him if he thought you were a weak little girl who deserved the treatment Lando doled out to you. It was the only way you could rationalize his silence. Seeing how far you’d fallen, how much you’d changed, had obviously had an effect on Max and he had decided he’d seen enough. It didn’t surprise you and you didn’t blame him. Jade was one of your only remaining friends and losing yet another person you trusted and valued in your life was just another thing Lando had taken from you. 

“I’m just so glad you finally are taking your power back, love. I know it feels all wrong right now but when you go from the chaos that you’ve been living in for so long, I’m sure the calm of this apartment feels wrong. You’ll get used to it. It might take some time but you’ll get used to it.” 

Your head swivels around to look your best friend and you search her face for any sign of her lying to you. You desperately want to believe she’s right, that you’re making the right choice. You know you are, deep down in your soul, but you’ve been with Lando for so long and have spent so many nights listening to him rant and rave about how he’s the only one who could ever deal with your dramatics that you wonder if Jade is wrong and Lando is the one who’s been right all along. You don’t voice the doubts though, knowing that those kinds of things are something that you should probably keep to yourself. So instead of voicing all of the fears that are bouncing around in your chest, making it feel heavy and tight with the pressure of doing something that absolutely terrifies you, you just nod and lean further into Jade’s shoulder.

 “I know.” You whisper, staring out over the open living room that is littered with small boxes and suitcases. 

With the help of your brothers and Jade, you had started moving your things out slowly while Lando had been otherwise distracted. Just a small box of clothes and trinkets here and there, over the last month while Charles had the apartment renovated and cleaned. When it was finally ready last week, you had begun looking for furniture and making final plans. 

The timing had worked out perfectly, with the apartment finally being finished perfectly aligning with a weeklong trip Lando had planned to go to Woking to spend time in the sim at the MTC. He rarely bothered you during these working trips, hell he barely bothered you during any of this trips, but his work trips were different, so you knew you’d have a solid week to get everything that mattered to you out of the apartment before he would be any wiser. 

“He’s going to be so mad when he comes home and my things are gone.” You murmur, staring down at your phone which hadn’t received so much as a text message from him in almost 48 hours. 

You hadn’t bothered telling Lando you were leaving, that you were done with him. You shied away form confrontation on even the best of days so telling the man that you’d spent the last three years building a life together that you were leaving him was terrifying. When you had started moving small boxes out while Lando was still in town, you had half expected him to notice but that had never been a problem. He hadn’t even noticed you leaving on several occasions with boxes of your books or suitcases of clothes. 

A larger part of you had another reason for not telling him, though. You knew that if you told him before you were fully moved out he’d try to get you to stay. He’d try to convince you that things would get better, that this time would be different. All the things that he’s said before when you spent the night crying over his neglect. And you knew you’d fall for it. You knew you’d go running back to him if you didn’t get out before he found out. Lando was persistent and an expert manipulator, you knew that and you still fell for it over and over again so this time you were trying to give yourself the chance to put yourself first and not fall back into his trap. 

“He’s going to learn his lesson when he comes home and finds that you’re finally moving on.” Jade says, tone firm but still gentle. She knows what it’s like to be in a relationship like you have with Lando and when you had called her that morning last month to tell her you were finally leaving him, she had decided she was going to make sure she’d do everything in her power to keep you from going back to him. Getting you unpacked and settled in your new apartment was a huge step forward, one Jade hadn’t been sure you would end up following through with. 

You nod, hoping she’s right but you have a feeling deep in your gut that when Lando gets back into town tomorrow morning he’s not going to see it that way. He’s going to be angry and he’s going to try to get you to come back home to him. 

Looking around your new apartment though, you feel something settle in your bones that you haven’t felt in a very long time. It’s a feeling of attachment to this place. Like if you’re careful and thoughtful, this little apartment tucked away in one of the most exclusive buildings in Monaco could be the best opportunity you have for getting your life back on track. You could heal here, you can feel that in the way the sunlight spills through the windows in the living room, in the way your anxiety allows you to breathe when you stand in the kitchen surrounded by things that you bought yourself, and in in the way you feel when you settle yourself on your brand new bed that will have never shared an intimate moment between you and Lando. Those memories have all been left behind and this new apartment seems like the perfect place for a new beginning. 

As Jade comforts you on your couch, your brother is across town arriving at the Monaco Sports Club where he has a game of padel scheduled with Max that afternoon. He had offered to cancel on him this morning when you spoke to him on the phone, saying that your first full day in the apartment was more important than any padel game, but you had insisted that he keep his game. You had wanted a bit of space to breathe from your brothers, who you knew meant very well and you were very grateful for but sometimes, the three men got to be a little suffocating. So, against his better judgement, Charles had skipped coming over that afternoon in favor of hanging out with Max. 

Max hasn’t stopped thinking about that night last month when he witnessed Lando being needlessly cruel to you. He had every intention of calling Charles that night, had every intention of telling him how the British driver was actually treating you but something had stopped him. He had needed a little more time to process everything that he saw. Max knew that Lando could be an asshole but he never could have guessed that he would have treated you the way he did that night he brought you back to the apartment. It had shaken him and it had taken him a bit to figure out exactly how to approach it with Charles because he knew if Charles really knew how Lando had been treating you, Lando might not make it to the next race alive. Because while everyone knew the relationship was toxic and Lando wasn’t a good boyfriend, no one really realized just how bad it had gotten until Max saw behind the curtain that night of the art show. 

When Max had invited Charles to play padel today, he had finally decided to tell him what had gone down that night. It had taken so long because Max kept waffling between ‘this is none of my business’ and ‘she’s everything’ but when he spotted Charles walking through the padel courts towards him, Max was surprised at how happy Charles looked. 

“You look happy.” Max observes before giving his friend a hug. 

“Oh, it is a very good day, mon ami.” Charles is practically glowing as he smiles over at his long time friend. 

Max lifts a brow, it’s been a while since he’s seen Charles look this optimistic and he wonders if it has something to do with you. 

As if Charles reads his mind, he continues, “We finally got the apartment finished and as of this morning, she’s fully left that piece of garbage.” A smug smile plays at the corner of the Ferrari driver’s mouth. 

The relief that washes over Max is surprising. He hadn’t realized how truly worried he was for your well being until that moment. The guilt that sets in though has his chest aching. How could he have gone so long without saying something to someone about what he had seen that night? Max carefully weighs his decision that he had been so set on just moments before. If you’ve already left Lando and are settling into your apartment, does Charles really need to know what happened that night? It would only cause more drama and Max knew that more drama and anxiety was the last thing you needed. 

In a split second decision that he knows could come back to haunt him, Max decides to keep quiet for now. 

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day.” With a genuine grin, Max bounces the padel ball against the floor. 

Charles beams back at him and Max can almost see the stress that his friend has been carrying around recently melting away from his features. He had known that your brother was worried about you, had known your entire circle, or what was left of it, was worried but now that this was really happening, Max could practically feel the relief rolling off of Charles in waves. 

“You’re telling me.” Charles mutters before walking to the other side of the court to get the game started. 

Max hadn’t meant to end up in your old neighborhood, truly he hadn’t. He had been on a run the morning after playing padel for a few hours with Charles when he passed the bakery that was a few blocks from your old apartment. He hadn’t meant to come this far but the pressures of the season were starting to get to him as they usually did around this time of year and he had needed extra time to clear his head. The fact that he couldn’t seem to get you off his mind either plagued him the entire run too. The way you had felt pressed against his side as he walked you home that night last month, the way your cheeks flamed with humiliation as Lando had laid into you in front of him when he walked you to your door, everything about you seemed to be invading his thoughts and it worried him. 

It worried him because he couldn’t let you get under his skin like this. He knew it was a dangerous game he was playing, knowing what you’ve been through and allowing himself to wander down that road. He was just happy you were safe now and hopefully you would start to get that spark back that he knew you still had in you. Everything else would have to wait. 

So when he passed the bakery you had pointed out as your favorite the night he had walked you home, he couldn’t help but follow his feet inside. The smells of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries washed over his senses as the bell above the wooden door jingled, announcing his arrival. He knew exactly what he was looking for before the woman behind the counter even asked and before he was able to second guess his decision, Max was walking out of the bakery moments later with half a dozen of what he knew were your favorite almond croissants. 

A housewarming gift, he told himself. Because what other way should Max welcome his newest neighbor to the building where he had lived for the last two years? He knew these were your favorites and if he had to guess, wandering back into your old neighborhood just for some carbs was probably at the bottom of your ‘to do’ list right now, even if they were heavenly pieces of baked bread and sweet almond filling. 

While Max made his way back across town, laden down with a large pink bakery box, you were just getting out of bed and starting your day. Anxiety, a feeling that seemed to be your constant companion lately, sits heavy on your shoulders as you move around the new apartment. The quiet hush that blankets the small space is different than the stifling silence you're used to in your apartment with Lando. It was unnerving to say the least but if you allowed yourself to pause for even just a moment, you could almost feel your soul breathing a sigh of relief. 

That wash of contentment is short lived though when a knock at your front door sends your heart rate spiking through the roof. You know that Lando was going to be home today but didn't know what time. It didn’t even cross your mind that there was no way it was him outside your door because he simply didn’t know where you had moved to but just the thought of someone who you weren’t expecting waiting for you and the possibility that it could be your now ex-boyfriend had you spiraling. 

Reaching for your phone, you pull up the security system app that Charles had insisted you get installed, despite the fact that this was a very well secured building with its own doorman downstairs 24/7. The person standing outside your door has confusion knitting your brow together. 

Pancake ingredients forgotten, you pad towards the door shuffling through various emotions: relief that it isn’t Lando waiting for you on the other side, apprehension about seeing the person that was patiently waiting in the hallway for you, and a bit of relief that you hadn’t lost this person like you thought you might have. 

“Max, what a pleasant surprise.” You murmur when you swing the door open. 

In front of you, the Dutch driver is dressed for a workout in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, his blond hair covered in a backwards baseball cap. You’re surprised at the shimmer of pleasure that works its way up your spine when he smiles at you but quickly squash the feeling, remembering the pity on his face as Lando had yelled at you that night he walked you home. 

“I was on a run this morning and remembered you saying this bakery was your favorite. I thought I’d bring you some almond croissants as a sort of ‘welcome to the building’ present.” 

Warmth spreads through your belly at the gesture and you hold the door open to welcome Max into the apartment. “Welcome to the building?” You ask, confused. 

Max grins back at you, rubbing at the back of his neck as he follows you to the kitchen. “I live up in the penthouse. I moved in about two years ago.”

Surprise flickers across your face. When you started dating Lando, your friendship with Max had grown distant so it shouldn’t shock you that you didn’t even know where your friend lived. “Oh, I didn’t realize.” You whisper, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. 

Max watches you bustle around the kitchen, decidedly avoiding eye contact with him. For a few moments he just observes you, trying to decide if he should leave or push. Charles had mentioned yesterday that you were nervous about living alone and Max wanted to make sure that you were okay. He knew he should probably leave you alone to continue to settle it, with it being only your second day in the apartment alone, but there was something keeping him rooted to the spot where he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

 “Are the almond ones still your favorite?” He asks, shattering the silence that had settled over the room. He knows you’re easily spooked now and Max desperately wants you to be comfortable about him. Maybe if he distracts you from whatever storm is brewing in your head, you’ll open up a bit. 

His patience is rewarded with the first unguarded smile he’s seen from you in a long time. “I can’t believe you remembered.” You laugh, reaching for one of the croissants in the open box. 

“You used to put these things away like nobody’s business when we were younger.” 

The blush that creeps across your cheeks has Max gripping the edge of the counter. The two of you fall into a comfortable conversation of safe topics, mostly about your new apartment and how Max’s cats are doing. You like this, the way you feel around him but you can almost feel your body bracing for the other shoe to fall. You keep waiting to have something stupid slip out of your mouth, causing Max to berate or make fun of you. 

Much to your surprise it never happens though and you spend the next hour talking through memories of when Charles and Max were fighting it out on the karting tracks when you were younger. Max remembered you well from those days, how you would beg to tag along with him and Charles and the older boys. 

The sun sits high in the sky when your phone start buzzing loudly on the counter. At first you ignore it, too lost in the conversation you and Max are having, the way he is so attentive to everything you have to say and how he asks you questions like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. You don’t want the attention he’s giving you to end but when your phone starts buzzing for the fifth time in a row, you get up off the couch to retrieve it. It was probably just Charles checking on you, you hand’t heard from him all day after all. 

Your heart sinks and your stomach churns when you see the caller ID though. “Fuck.” The whisper that tumbles off of your lips is broken and harsh, causing Max’s head to snap towards where you’re leaning over the counter, forearms braced on either side of your phone. 

“Everything okay?” Max gets up off the couch to join you in the kitchen, concerned over the way you’ve suddenly gone white as a sheet as you stare down at your phone like it’s about to reach up and strangle you right there in the middle of the room. 

In the couple of hours that you had spent catching up with Max, you had completely forgot that Lando was due to get home soon. “I guess Lando has discovered I’m gone.” The way your voice shakes has Max’s heart squeezing. 

“He doesn’t know you moved out?” 

“Well he does now.” You quip, nervous chuckle falling from your lips. The text messages came in first, it looked like. Nearly a dozen of them and as you scroll through the messages, your face heats. Of course this is going to happen with Max here. Why is he always a witness to your humiliation?

Where are you? Why is the closet half empty, where are all your clothes? Baby, why is your treadmill gone? And your Peloton?  Where the FUCK are you??? ANSWER ME NOW WHERE ARE YOU??? DID YOU LEAVE ME THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY YOU’RE DOING THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE NOW COWARD

Shortly after the messages stop, the calls start. You stare down at the phone as Max watches as call after call comes through. 

“You don’t have to answer him.” Max murmurs, coming to stand right next to you. You have to resist the urge to lean into his warmth, to collapse against the quiet strength that rolls off of him in waves.

“It’s only going to get worse if I don’t.” 

“Does he know where you are?” 

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill over. Why was this all happening right now? You knew you were safe, that he had no idea where you had moved to but just the thought of being in the same city as him when he was this angry is enough to have the panic threatening to strangle the breath straight out of your lungs. 

“Then you’re safe. He wouldn’t ever do anything to put his career in danger, Dovie.” 

You have to laugh at the statement because it’s so true. Lando would never do anything to put his career on the line. He’d do whatever it took to keep you in line under his thumb, no matter how mean he had to be to control you but when it came to his career? His first love? He’d never do anything to put his seat in question and you knew that. You had always come second to racing and what Max said was the total truth. 

Max watches you shrink into yourself as the calls continue to come in, one after another, and he knows he has to do something. He glances at the time and instantly gets an idea. “I was supposed to go to dinner with Danny in an hour. What if you leave the phone here for the night and come to dinner with me?” He pauses, seeing the panic flicker across your face. “With us. Come to dinner with us.” He corrects quickly. “I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free too? It’s been a while since we’ve all had dinner together.” 

Your eyes drop down to the phone, now quiet for the moment, and weigh your options. You know you’re not ready to talk to Lando but the fact that you’re ignoring him makes you feel like a coward. You’re going to have to speak to him sometime but maybe it was okay if you put if off for a few more days. Dinner out with Max, Daniel, and your brother sounds so appealing but you still hesitate. 

“Come on, Dovie. You can’t spend the whole night starting at the phone. He’s going to keep calling and it’s not good for you to be alone right now.” 

The pain that slices through your heart at the gentle coaxing Max’s tone takes on is almost unbearable. Why is he always the one to see you laid so bare, so vulnerable? 

“How did I let this happen, Max?” Your voice breaks, soft and uncertain as you turn into Max’s waiting frame. Without hesitation, Max’s arms circle around you and he pulls you deeper into his chest. Something settles in him then, almost like he’s relieved you’ve allowed him in. The way you shake while he holds you has his chest aching and he’d really like to give the McLaren driver a piece of his fucking mind right about then, but he knows that’s going to have to wait for now. You’re much more important. 

“You were in love, schatje and that’s okay. You trusted him and he broke that trust. It’s not a reflection of you, sweet girl, its a reflection of him. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

You sob quietly into his chest, soaking his t-shirt through with your tears as the dam finally breaks. Humiliation threatens to drag you under but you allow Max’s words to resonate through you. They soften the sharp edges of your heartache and regret, knowing that someone like Max, who you respect and have known for nearly your entire life, doesn’t think this entire thing is your fault. You sink into his warmth, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, allowing his steady breath to ground you. 

Max just stands there, a quiet pillar of strength that he can feel you desperately need right now. Hr murmurs quiet reassurances to you as you cry against him, slowly rocking you back and forth. “Come on,” Max coos, lips brushing against the top of your head. “Go take a shower and then lets go to dinner. I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free. You haven’t seen Danny in ages, right? It’ll be good to get out.” 

Dragging in a deep breath, you hold the air in your lungs until they pinch. “Okay.” 

With one last look at your phone, you turn away and walk down the hallway, leaving Max starting at your phone which has finally gone quiet. For several moments, Max just stands at the counter in the kitchen, unable to move. Relief floods his veins when he hears the shower start though and he knows that you’re finally making a small step towards getting out from under Lando’s control.

@shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[filthygalli]

When I Met You: Chapter 3 "Iced Americano"

Fem!Reader x Neighbor! Hwang In-Ho

Main Master list

Squid Game Master list

Genre/Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, Light smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow burn, Age gap (Reader is in her early 30’s, While In-Ho is in his late 40’s.) Rude In-Ho (but will eventually be soft with the reader Soon!) Literature Professor! In-Ho (Not specified what kind of literature) More Tags to come soon!

Warnings: MDNI!Masturbation, Cursing, A little cliffhanger for the pt.2 (Coming this week also), Short chapter (ik, sorry), Reader thinking that In-Ho is not just a Literature Professor, Not proof read.

Word Count: 1142

Author's Note: This chapter is quite short, I have my whole idea for the chapter 4, I'll 'tease' you guys a bit here, but I feel like it's some terrible writing? Anyways let me know what you think, and thank you so much for y'all's support! 🥹🖤

© Pictures that are used are from Pinterest.

You knocked on In-Ho's door to pick up Yu-Jin so In-Ho wouldn't bother to drop Yu-Jin at your house. You knocked patiently, hearing the doorknob twist as the door swung open, his gaze turning soft when he saw you, “Y/n? ” You smiled. “Good morning, In-Ho, I'm here to pick up Yu-Jin. So you won't take your time dropping him off at my house.” You looked up at him, scanning his reaction. Was he expecting you to come early this morning? To be honest, he got caught off guard; he thought you were some random person who wanted to ruin his morning, but it turns out it's a person who always makes his morning perfect. He paused for a moment before answering, scanning your eyes carefully, “Good morning to you too, Y/n.” He gave you a slight smile, which made you sigh in relief a little, ‘He's not in a bad mood,’ you thought, “Are you going to take him for a walk? ” He asked, leaning on the door frame, your breath hitched a little, “I—yeah—I was thinking of grabbing a coffee on the way there too…” In-Ho noticed your reaction to what he just did; he smirked a little, not too obvious for you to notice, “Hmm, I see…” You both looked at each other, “You know what…” He paused for a moment to rethink his thought, “What is it? ” You slightly tilted your head, curious about what he was going to say. “I’ll drive you and Yu-Jin to the coffee shop near the campus, We can both grab a coffee there before I go to work,” He looked at you for a moment before smiling, “It’s the least I could do.” He added, You admired his smile, the smile that you’ve never seen before, Maybe Yu-Jin sees it everytime, But you don’t, well, you do now, and his smile is one of the gorgeous smiles you’ve ever seen, “Y/n?” He said snapping you back to reality, You chuckled awkwardly as you nodded, “I’d love that.” You smiled up at him brightly, He opened the door just enough for you to get in, He leaned in a little as he said “Wait inside.” as if he’s telling you a secret that not even anyone else should hear. You went inside his home immediately greeted by Yu-Jin who lays down on his back asking for belly rubs. You chuckled in excitement as you crouched down to rub Yu-Jin’s belly. “He likes you too much,” He said looking down at you, “Hmm?” You looked up at him giving him a puppy eyes looks, ‘Fuck,’ he thought as he looks away for a moment before saying, “It’s nothing, make yourself comfortable, Y/n.” he said before going upstairs, You nodded as you picked up Yu-Jin bringing him on In-Ho’s leather chair. “Did you miss me, Yu-Jin?” You asked the cat who’s sitting on the arm of the leather chair, The cat meowed, “I missed you too–!” You chuckled, “I missed him too…” You muttered as you thought of In-Ho. You started to think of In-Ho, You thought of what’s his favorite food, Book, Movies? Does he even listen to songs? If yes, What kind and what’s his favorite songs? You thought of the things that what might Thee Hwang In-Ho like, You don’t really know him that well, You just know that he’s a literature professor, He owns a cat which is Yu-Jin, That he’s a stubborn and grumpy person, ‘Oh–he also likes black coffee’ you muttered to yourself, ‘Hmm..well he smells like one though..’ You chuckled to yourself remembering the time where you first met Yu-Jin and your second encounter with In-Ho. He smelled like a black coffee. He seems like an elegant person based on how he looks and style himself, the way his house looks so simple yet it screams ��Old money’ type of thing–And let’s not forget his car, That Black Mercedes, God–Is he really a literature professor or a mafia? Because no one would buy such an expensive car by just teaching, ‘Maybe he has other work?’ You thought, ‘’What would it be though…?’’ You said to yourself as you chuckled to yourself for thinking such things.

In-Ho went to his room as he closed the door behind him. He sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. He can’t take it anymore. The way you looked at him with that pouty look of yours sends him over the edge. You’ve been inside his head for a while—how calm and angelic your voice sounds, how soft your skin, how light your touches are, how you look so innocent and dumb when you’re with him… He wants you badly. He spent so many sleepless nights thinking about you, about your every encounter with him, how he purposely does things that he would think would make you go crazy, and he’s right. He feels his cock getting hard by the thoughts of you, He can’t do this right now, Not when you’re just down stairs, “Fuck, Not now In-Ho..” he growled, His body betrayed him, he groans at the feeling of his aching cock throbbing inside his pants, “Fuck.” He muttered as he unzipped his pants and pulls out his cock, Pre-cum beaded on the tip of his cock, he spat on his palm and used it as a lube to palm his aching cock, He groans from the feeling, he started to pump his cock up and down, God he wish that you’re the one who’s doing this to him, He started to sped up his pace, “Ah- fu-” He moaned as he thinks about you, How perfect your body is, How soft your voice is, god knows how will you sound like if he fucks you on his leather chair, Back pressed against his bare chest as he whisper sweet nothings to your ears, He bets to himself that your soft lips would look good wrapped around his cock, He feels himself getting closer his hands are getting tired–He wants to cum badly, wanting to release his cum that he’s been keeping for days since he thought of you, “Fuck–Y/n–!” He bit his lip, not wanting you to hear his moans, his moans that were dedicated to you. He came as he groaned from the feeling, the feeling of releasing days of tension between him and you; he whimpered as he pumped the last drop of his cum. As cum drips from his hand, staining his black pants, he pants as he groans in annoyance. He feels disgusted by what he just did. Jerking himself by the thought of you, he just wishes that you didn’t hear him moaning your name like a broken record as he chased his high a while ago. It’ll be a long day for him, and well for you too.

Author's Note:

Happy 200 followers!!! Thank you so much for the support🥹 I made this account I think 2 years ago if I'm not mistaken—i just wanted to read fan fictions to try it, eventually, writing caught my interest because I got so inspired by other writers to write my own depending on my own imagination, and I'm glad I started writing because writing is one of my gifts nowwww! Thank you so much everyone!🥹🖤

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[akajustmerry]

Do you have any personal advice on writing good romance? People have vast tastes on the matter but I wonder what your personal takes are

hello!

honestly, I've been studying writing romance for a while because i want to maybe write a rom com novel and while I grew up writing fanfiction I don't think it's the same as actually crafting romance from scratch. I don't have a tonne of experience with it yet, but these are some strong feelings I have on writing good romance that i've gathered in my journey so far;

when you find a romance you really love, take it apart piece by piece like a clockmaker would a clock until you understand why it compels you. if you find a romance you hate, do the same thing. you'll learn a lot about your tastes from this and you'll also learn what "good romance" is to you because it's different for everyone.

I firmly believe all good romance is a portrait of 2 characters (or however many characters are involved). Again, this is just my opinion, but I hate reading or watching romance where I don't know the characters that well because then I'm just sitting there asking why they're even interested in one another. Focus on characters more than tropes. i think there's way too much focus on tropes in recent years.

this is VERY just my opinion but I think when writing a romance it's good to think about how and why the characters would interact if they couldn't be physically intimate. What do they share (values, goals, opinions, conflicts) with each other besides having the hots for one another? And look, for some audiences, having the hots is enough, but for me i don't like when a relationship feels so flimsy that a week of social distancing would break it.

i used to feel really self-conscious about writing romantic scenarios i hadn't experienced, and apparently this is very common for romance writers. it's very important to remember that most authors in fiction genres are not writing about things they've personally experienced either. do your research, write with confidence and compassion and you should be fine <3

MY BIGGEST BIT OF ADVICE IF YOU FORGET EVERYTHING ELSE IS sincerity. just sincerity. so many current or modern romances are so irony-poisoned and self-referential. it takes the immersion and joy out of it. unless you're doing something intentionally meta like lovers being trapped in a movie or something, there's no need for them to reference tropes or hating tropes or whatever. have your characters be sincere and write sincerely.

anyway, i hope this helps! i know you sent this a while ago but i really wanted to think about the answer. hope that's okay 💖

[almostfoxglove]

MALLORY!!! oh my god, what a perfect follow up to suburban sparks. this is such a lovely balance of I'm-ripping-my-hair-out-with-need smut and aaaachy yearning (the best kind) - I couldn't put it down. my god. I loved it sososo much?? and YEAH IT DID GET ME ALL CHOKED UP, WHAT ABOUT IT asdfkjhsdfkj

I'm popping some of my favorite bits below the cut, but FRICK I'm obsessed with this <3

His tongue licks a path down your neck, tasting the condensation on your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” is softly repeated against your sensitive skin. The way you softly moan back makes his legs weak. You sound so good, you taste so good, you feel so good.

SDFLKHASDLKHFAL WHAT DO YOU MEAN oh my god. mumbling pussy-drunk javi is actually going to ruin my life like I need him SO bad you don't underSTAND (except clearly you do)

He’d always be the one to call. Phone bill be damned, he made good money.

this feels so perfectly javier?? that really small, unspoken gesture that he'll be the one to shoulder it and take care of her in this really tiny way because it's the way that he can - MY HEAART

He’s not the one for you, though you’re the one for him.

straight up mumbled 'oh my god' under my breath when I read this for the first time, then went back to read the paragraph again like twice more before continuing, because FUCK THE YEARNING IS SO FUCKING PERFECT

He thinks about you curled up on the couch during your late-night calls, wrapped in an oversized sweater, your voice soft and sleepy. He dreams of one day being on that couch with you. In a perfect life that he’ll never have.

:,,,,,) do you see the oceans rising??? that's because of my tears

“Your green shirt.” His spine straightens. “Oh yeah?”

YESSSS GIRL YESSSSS THE GREEN SHIRT YESSSS THAT'S SO CORRECT

Another sleepless night, another internal battle, another lonely sunrise, another cup of black coffee to try to wake him up.

'another lonely sunrise, another cup of black coffee to try to wake him up' is actually so fucking beautiful and so fucking sad and so fucking javi?? I just. I'm standing in that kitchen with him, watching him suffer privately, WISHING I COULD HUG HIM

It doesn’t feel like his place at all, but a Polaroid of you that leans against his bedside lamp makes it feel like home. He'd chosen this place for the view, telling himself it was because he'd always wanted to live somewhere with a skyline again. But deep down, he knows it's because he wanted to look out at the city you love.

oh GOD there are just so many perfect little setting descriptions that just take me right into the room with him, and this is another one. like fuck. my heart is going 'squeeze' in the most delicious, angsty way - you're playing me like a fiDDLE and I LOVE YOU FOR IT

The exact opposite of an old, grizzled DEA agent haunted by his past.

SWEET STUPID JAVIER OH MY GOD SOMEONE LET ME HOLD HIM PLS

“I’d rather be alone than a stranger.”

thinking about him being in the theatre to see her perform as I write this is actually going to make me cry all over again. it's so good. so hopeful and also so sad and UGH. MALLORY. YOU'RE A STAR.

I FUCKING LOVED THIS. I looooove how you incorporated the newspapers from the moodboard - it's such a perfect, both intimate and a little removed way for javi to connect with her, and ugh. my heart. this was so good. thank you SO much for joining the challenge and delivering us this masterpiece :,) I am forever in your debt!!

Long Distance

A followup to Suburban Sparks Pairing: Javier Peña x Steve's Little Sister Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: He knows he shouldn't fall for you, he knows he shouldn't pick up the phone, but you're all he can think about. Warnings: Javi's POV, angst, guilt, yearning, pining, heartbreak, impressionist paintings, using a Clairo lyric as a play monologue, jealousy, smut, phone sex, secret bathroom sex, dirty photos. Takes place after S3. Words: 8,320

A/N: Written for @almostfoxglove's Angst Challenge, who made the GORGEOUS mood board for inspo. It truly fit the vibes of exactly what I was thinking would be the next step for Steve's Little Sister and Javier. My thanks to @devineconjuring, @mothandpidgeon, and @schnarfer for filling up my draft with suggestions, reactions, and edits and always letting me yap and ... them. Masterlist

—-

His heart thuds against his chest with every descending step. He hears the clatter of plates and silverware mixed with soft conversation– hears your voice. You’re awake. His eyes immediately catch yours when he walks into the kitchen. You sit at the breakfast table in an oversized sweatshirt that hangs off a shoulder, the same shoulder he kissed before he snuck out of bed and back to his room across the hall.

You’re so beautiful, he almost falls as he takes a seat.

“Damn, Peña, still drunk?” Steve asks as he flips the last pancake.

“Just tired,” he responds. “Morning,” he casually nods towards you, trying not to let his gaze stay on you for too long.

You nod a casual “hey” as you reach for the orange juice, your fingers wrapping around the glass. He loses his breath as he remembers how those same delicate fingers felt wrapped around him.

“Coffee, Javi?” Connie asks, pulling him from his reverie.

He nods, mumbling a response as you smirk. This is going to be an interesting breakfast.

“Good breakfast, thank you,” you say as you rise. “I’m going to get a shower before I go back home. Landlord still hasn’t fixed the hot water heater.”

“Help yourself,” Steve nods. “And Jesus Christ, find a better place.”

Javier takes a sip of coffee until the thought of you under the warm running water, naked and wet, flashes through his mind. He coughs as he chokes on the hot liquid.

"You okay there, partner?" Steve asks, eyebrow raised.

Javi nods, clearing his throat. "Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe." 

As your footsteps fade upstairs, Javi focuses intently on his breakfast, avoiding Steve's gaze. He can feel Connie's eyes on him, a hint of suspicion in her expression.

He eats his breakfast, listening closely to the rumble of the water heater as Steve and Connie discuss their plans for the day. The water heater turns off, snapping Javi back to the thought of you just upstairs.

"I should get ready too," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he picks up his plate and coffee cup, dropping them off by the sink. "Thanks for breakfast."

“‘Course, you’re our guest,” Steve says.

As he climbs the stairs, his heart races. The guilt over Steve sitting just downstairs getting drowned out by the anticipation of seeing you again.

He passes the bathroom door and then retraces his steps, standing in front of the white wooden blockade. You’re right behind the door. He knocks softly.

The door cracks open, a cloud of steam escaping as you peek out. Your face glistens with moisture, drops of water clinging to your skin. You take his breath away.

Your eyebrow quirks up before you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. He slips inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You’re wrapped in a towel–one measly towel. A drop of water trails down your collarbone to between your breasts, and his mouth waters, thinking of how good it’d taste.

"Javier," you whisper.

He steps closer. "I know, I know. We shouldn't."

But, as the words leave his mouth, you’re already reaching for him. His mouth crashes against yours, desperate to taste you again. You instantly mold into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he backs you against the cool tile wall.

The towel slips, pooling at your feet. He breaks the kiss, his eyes reverently roaming your bare skin. “Fuck,” he breathes.

You grab the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down. “We don’t have much time.”

He nods, helping you pull down his boxer briefs, his cock already hard for you, weeping to feel your tight pussy around it.

He lifts you onto the countertop, spreading your legs wide and groaning when he feels how wet you are for him. Your eyes stare into his as he sheaths himself in you, both of you gasping at how good it feels. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as he begins to move. His hands grip the counter as he quietly fucks into you, the faint sound of his skin against yours and your soft moans echoing off the tile.

His tongue licks a path down your neck, tasting the condensation on your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” is softly repeated against your sensitive skin. The way you softly moan back makes his legs weak. You sound so good, you taste so good, you feel so good.

Your hips meet his as his thrusts become more urgent as he listens for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He wishes he could savor you, hear you scream his name, fuck into you for hours, but he can’t. He has to be quick. His hand travels down your smooth skin, and his finger begins circling your clit as his other hand grips the plush of your breast, kneading it in his hand. Your head falls back, your bottom lip captured between your teeth to stop yourself from making any more noise.

It’s forbidden and wrong. He knows this, but the way your body trembles underneath his touch, your hands exploring the broadness of his back, your tight pussy beginning to clench around his cock–he can’t say no to you. He circles your clit faster and harder, his fingers working in quick, tight circles as he fucks into you faster. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fight to stay quiet.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers. “I need to feel you cum.”

Your body tenses, a strangled moan escaping your lips before he presses his mouth against yours, swallowing your cries as he chases his own release. You pulse around him, and it’s too much. He buries himself inside you, his body shuddering as he cums, spilling inside of you. He stays buried in your heat, even though he knows he needs to leave. He just can’t. He rests his forehead against yours, listening to your soft gasps, trying to savor the moment for as long as he can.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice lilts in awe.

He nods, trying hard to swallow the guilt. “I know.”

He pulls out slowly, both of you wincing at the loss of each other.

You hop off the counter, grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around yourself again. Javi tucks himself back into his pants and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

"You should go," you say softly, not meeting his eyes. “You know… just in case.”

He nods, his hand already reaching for the doorknob. "Hey," he says, waiting for you to look at him. When you do, he sees the conflict in your eyes, knowing it mirrors his own, but he ignores it. “What’s your number?”

—-

The phone line hums, building a bridge between Laredo and Washington, D.C. He waits all day to hear the sound of your laughter spill through the receiver–sweet and warm, like honey. Most of the time, silence settles between the two of you, content to just stay on the line with each other 1,800 miles away.

He’d always be the one to call. Phone bill be damned, he made good money.

On some nights, after too many whiskeys or beers, he’d let some of the burden of Colombia off his shoulders. He’d tell you about the girls, the bodies, the nightmares. You’d meet every revelation with understanding and acceptance, letting him talk as little or as much as he wanted. 

It’s simple and comfortable, something he never felt like he deserved. But he can never have simple and comfortable–there’s always a complication. You are Steve’s little sister, after all.

He hates nights like this when the guilt creeps in and gnaws at him. The world is hushed, his thoughts loud. He tosses and turns, sheets tangling around his legs as he wrestles with his heart. He’s falling for you–Steve’s little sister. The same Steve who had his back in Colombia, who became more than just a partner.

He stares at the ceiling, your voice always echoing in his head.

It’s been three months since he met you at that ordinary suburban party. He replays everything in his head to calm himself–your smile, the sweet lilt of your voice, your wide eyes as you stared at him. The sound of your muffled moans escaping from behind his shirt, the warmth of your body pressed against his as you drifted to sleep.

Now, the memory of your soft skin under his fingertips haunts him, an almost bittersweet reminder of what he can never have. It could never work. Steve’s so protective of you that Javi can’t even imagine how he’d react if he knew someone like him was falling for his baby sister. He can’t do that to you… or Steve.

You’re in your twenties, still full of life and promise. While he’s forty, scarred from the long life he’s already lived. He pictures you growing resentful, feeling held back by his world-weariness, longing for someone more carefree and unburdened. He’s not the one for you, though you’re the one for him.

He turns, shuffling his cold sheets up around his shoulder as he stares out the window. One night spent together in his friend’s backyard and guest bedroom. One morning spent in a white-tiled bathroom. Countless nights on the phone.

He thinks about you curled up on the couch during your late-night calls, wrapped in an oversized sweater, your voice soft and sleepy. He dreams of one day being on that couch with you. In a perfect life that he’ll never have.

—-

Javier Peña never reads the news. He doesn’t pay attention to the news. He doesn’t care about the news. He doesn’t want to hear about the news—that is, until you entered his life.

“Any news?” he asks, hearing the rustle of your newspaper crackling through the phone.

“Hmm, lemme see.”

He can imagine you scanning the headlines, your finger running down the text, brows furrowed in concentration. You love the news, love reading and learning, love being informed. Now, Javier Peña reads the news.

"Ohh! The Smithsonian's got a new exhibit opening next week. An Impressionist Sensibility. It says the paintings in the collection are linked through a shared sensibility about American cultural aspirations at the turn of the century."

"Yeah?"

“Yeah, it looks really cool, Jav.”

He loves it when you call him Jav. It’s so casual, so comfortable. Nobody ever calls him Jav besides you. He listens intently as you read, letting the sound of your voice wash over him.

"Sounds pretty interesting. Sounds like something you have to see in person."

You hum in agreement, a wistful note in your voice. "It does. Maybe someday we could…"

The sentence hangs unfinished, both of you acutely aware of the complications that keep you apart. He clears his throat, pushing away the surge of longing that threatens to overwhelm him. Move on, agent.

"My turn," he says, unfolding his paper. "Let's see what thrilling news Laredo's got today."

—

“Tell me I did good, Jav. Tell me to stop obsessing over it. Tell me they didn’t notice I paused a little too long between lines.”

He chuckles. “You did amazing. I’m sure of it, cariño.”

He doesn’t know how you can be so brave, going up onstage in front of auditoriums full of people. All eyes on you. He could never do what you do.

“Really?”

“I’d surely cast you if I could.”

“Mm, I’m sure you would,” you respond. He can hear the smile in your voice.

You’ve been so nervous over the audition for the play. He remembers how you'd practiced your lines with him, how he stayed up late listening to you recite the main monologue over and over just so he could hear your voice. He could hear the emotions. You’re so talented, there’s no way you’re not going to get the part.

“You’re going to get it, cariño.” 

"You really think so?" you ask, a hint of hope in your voice.

"I do. When will you find out?"

"Rehearsals start next month, so hopefully soon," you answer.

"You've got me to keep you distracted."

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…”

—-

He’s lying in bed awake again. He’s getting to a point of no turning back with you. He closes his eyes, and all he can see is you.

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…” repeats through his head.

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand. It would be so easy to call, to hear your voice one more time. But he can't. He won't.

Instead, he pushes himself out of bed, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor of his apartment to the sparse but functional kitchen. He pours a glass of whiskey, hoping it’ll help drown out his thoughts.

This feeling is so foreign to him. He hasn’t felt this way about anybody since Lorraine–and even then, he fucked that up. He shouldn't have let it go this far. Shouldn't have knocked on the door of that guest room, shouldn't have kissed you like a drowning man praying for air. But he did. And now he can't forget.

You’re too young, too bright, and too adventurous. You’re so full of potential. What the hell are you doing talking to him every single night? He has to step away and let you go. But he won’t. Because underneath all of those accomplishments and pursuits, he’s still a coward.

—-

You softly moan into the phone, and he can hear the swishing of the sheets as you get comfortable on your bed. He can almost see you, feel you, remember how sweet you tasted. He thuds his head against his pillow, an ache of loneliness from his heart traveling down to his cock. 

“You can’t do that, cariño,” he lowly growls.

“Huh?”

“Moan like that,” he responds. Now, he’s the one adjusting. “I–it’s been a while.” 

You chuckle, a low, tempting sound. He’s in trouble. It’s been a month of talking to you almost every night, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t constantly fighting the urge to touch himself while listening to your voice. But he’s resisted, not wanting to cross that line and make things even more complicated than they already are. 

“Sorry, my bed feels really good. Quite lonely, though,” you pout, your voice dripping in saccharine sarcasm. 

Fuck. He’s so needy for you, he’s already growing hard.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, feeling a little ridiculous at the question, hoping you’re just as turned on as him.

“Don’t laugh. Promise you won’t laugh.” 

“What? Why would I laugh?” he smiles, shaking his head.

“Because Javi. Just… don’t laugh or judge.”

“I won’t. Trust me. Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Your green shirt.” 

His spine straightens. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wear it a lot?”

“Mmhmm, I sleep in it all the time.” 

“I’m sure it looks real good on you, doesn’t it?” 

“I think it looked better when it was stuffed in my mouth while you were fucking me.”

He groans, his heart racing as he reaches down and grips the heft of himself tucked away in his shorts. 

“That was a good night, wasn’t it?” he asks, softly squeezing himself. 

“It was one of the best, Javi. I think about it all the time.” 

“Me too,” he divulges, remembering the brightness of your eyes, the sweet taste of your lips, the feel of your pussy clenching him. “I also really liked the morning in the bathroom.” You laugh–a sweet sound that makes his heart beat even faster–before you sigh. “I wish you were here, Javi.” “I do, too, cariño.” 

“What would you do if you were with me?” you ask, your voice low. You’re such a temptress.

His voice drops to a sultry whisper as he closes his eyes and imagines you in his bed. "I'd start by getting you out of that shirt, real slow. I’d get to take my time and kiss every inch of skin."

You let out a soft moan. "Mmm, then what?"

"I'd push you back onto the bed, trail my fingers up your soft thighs." His own hand mimics the motion, sliding up his leg. "I’d spread your legs and kiss my way up, before giving your sweet pussy a long lick, savoring just how good you taste."

"God, Javi. Please," you whimper.

"Touch yourself for me, baby. Pretend it's me."

He can picture you perfectly–laid out on your bed, his shirt bunched up around your waist, your hand between your legs.

You let out a gasp and a long, low moan. He pulls his shorts down and gives himself a tight, slow stroke.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, rubbing the bit of precum he’s leaked out across his head.

“Mmhmm,” you moan. “I love it when you call me baby.”

“Baby,” he groans as he spits in his hand and strokes himself.

“Fuck, I’m so wet,” you breathe into the phone.

“I wish I was there with you, baby. I'd slide two fingers deep inside your tight little pussy, curl them just right to make you moan for me." He strokes himself faster, imagining the slick heat of you clenching around him.

You let out a whimper. “I need you inside me.”

“I need to be inside you too, cariño,” he replies, his hand moving faster along his length. “Tell me how badly you want me.”

“I want you to fuck me hard and fast,” you moan. “God, I think about it all the time, Jav.”

He grunts in response, imagining your body writhing beneath him.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

He squeezes his cock harder, picking up the pace as you whine and moan for him.

“You sound so good. I love the way you moan for me. You’re all I ever want to hear.”

“Fuck,” you pant. “Gonna cum.”

“That’s it, cum for me, cariño.”

You let out a loud moan as your orgasm hits. It floats through the phone into his ear and down to his cock. He lets out a long, low “fuck” as he reaches his own release, grunting your name as his cock pulses in his fist, streams of cum spilling out onto his hand and stomach.

All that can now be heard is heavy breathing and soft moans as you both come down from your highs.

He feels the guilt begin to show its ugly head just as you say his name.

“Javi, that was… wow.”

“I know, baby, I know.” 

—-

He pulls an envelope out of his mailbox. Your handwriting is neat and flowy–he smiles at the bright green marker you chose.

So, this is why you wanted his address.

He’s opening the envelope before his door even shuts. He hasn’t been this excited to open something since Christmas morning thirty years ago.

He pulls out a handmade card–a dark green Christmas tree adorned with little red hearts is painted on the front, with MERRY CHRISTMAS JAV written in cursive above it–and his face lights in a wide grin.

As he opens the card,  a bundle of Polaroid photos tied together with a ribbon falls out and lands on the table.

A simple message is inside the card.

Surprise! I hope you like them. xoxo

With a quick pull on the silky ribbon, the bundle is untied. He slowly flips through each photo, his heart skipping a beat as he assesses each one like evidence.

You’re smiling in a few of them, his green shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders. You look so beautiful, so carefree and happy. He traces a finger over one, wishing he could touch you.

His breath catches in his throat as he flips to the next photo. You’re still in his shirt, but you sit, wearing only that on your bed. Your smooth legs bent to the side of you, your eyes hooded, with a coy smile playing at your lips. He swallows hard as he flips to the next photo.

His mouth goes dry. You’re completely naked, lying back on your bed. Your body is on full display for him. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling slightly dizzy, his cock twitching at the sight of you.

It feels so forbidden, so wrong to have these photos of you.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he turns to the next picture. You’re kneeling on your bed, your hands resting on the back of your neck. Your tits are pushed out, your nipples hard. He can see the glistening wetness between your thighs. He wants to taste you so bad.

The following picture makes him gasp. You’re lying across your bed, one hand gripping the soft swell of your breast while the other is between your legs. Your lip is caught between your teeth. He can almost hear the breathy moans you’re letting out.

He flips to the next one, and his cock throbs painfully against his jeans. You’re on your hands and knees, your head turned, peering over your shoulder at the camera. The sight of your ass makes his mouth water. He wants nothing more than to grab your hips and pull you back onto his aching cock.

With a shaky breath, he reveals the final Polaroid. Your hand is outstretched towards the camera, a drop of your arousal glistening on your fingertip as if you’re offering him a taste of you. The image is so visceral he can almost taste you.

He sits back in his chair, the Polaroids tightly clutched in one hand while the other palms himself through his jeans. This is, without a doubt, the best gift he’s ever received, but he still feels wrong to have it.

—-

“So, any news?” you ask, your voice still a bit slow and low from the orgasm you just moaned out for him. It’s now a nightly ritual–phone sex followed by sharing local articles.

He scans the headlines. “The Laredo Little Theater is putting on a production of Our Town next month.”

“Our Town! I was Emily a few years back.”

“I-I’ve never seen it.” Frankly, he’s never heard of it. He’s never really seen a play–unless he counts the couple of productions Lorraine was in during high school. He wishes he was more cultured for you.

"I still remember my lines. Emily's monologue at the end about realizing what she missed in life. It's always stuck with me."

He leans back against his headboard, intrigued. "Tell me about it, cariño."

You clear your throat softly. "Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?"

“Wow,” he whispers after a long pause. "That's beautiful, baby.”

“Thanks, Jav. I just wish…”

Your voice trails off, and his chest tightens.

“I know,” he sighs. “Me too.”

He knows exactly what you’re thinking. If only things were different. If only there wasn’t a shadow of guilt and secrecy. He knows he’s already fallen for you.

Silence stretches. He clears his throat. “Your turn, cariño. What’s in the news?”

—-

Another sleepless night, another internal battle, another lonely sunrise, another cup of black coffee to try to wake him up.

The shrill ring of his phone cuts through the silence, startling him from his brooding. He glances at the clock–8:17 a.m.–an unfamiliar number with a DC area code on the screen.

"Peña," he answers gruffly, his voice rough from whiskey and lack of sleep.

"Mr. Peña, this is Agent Thompson from DEA headquarters in Washington. I wanted to inform you personally that we'd like to offer you the position."

The job. The one he'd interviewed for months ago, the reason he'd been in DC. The reason he'd met you. He should feel elated, triumphant even. Instead, dread settles in his stomach and heart.

"Mr. Peña? Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Thank you for the offer. When, uh, when would you need me to start?"

"We'd like you here in two weeks, if possible. Is that doable?"

Two weeks. Fourteen days to uproot his life, to move across the country. Fourteen days to figure out how to tell you… or if he should tell you at all.

"Mr. Peña?"

"Yes, that's fine. I'll make it work," he says, his mind already racing.

After hanging up, he stands motionless in his kitchen, the half-empty whiskey glass from last night sitting on the counter. The job he'd wanted, the fresh start he'd been seeking for so long–it's all here for him. But now, it feels like a curse.

He imagines being in the same city as you, knowing you're just across town. The temptation to see you, to touch you, would be constant. And Steve–how could he look Steve in the eye, knowing what he's done with you?

The guilt gnaws at him, heavier than the weight of everything else. He should be honest, should tell you about the job offer. But the words stick in his throat every time he thinks about picking up the phone.

Days pass in a blur of packing and paperwork. You try calling, leaving a message each time. They start out sweet until the third day when you sound upset.

"Javi, hi, it’s me. I-I don’t know what’s going on, but please call me.”

Each night, he stares at the phone, his hand reaching to grab it. But he can't bring himself to dial. Can't bear to hear the excitement in your voice when he tells you he's moving to DC.

On the sixth day, you leave another message.

“Hey Javi, it’s me again, I… I hope you’re okay. I… did I do something? Please just call so I know you’re okay.”

He has to call you. Has to think of some way to let you down because he knows, deep down, that he can't have you. Not really. Not without destroying his friendship with Steve, not without ruining your relationship with your brother. Not without tainting the pure, beautiful thing that's grown between you.

By the tenth day, you’re mad.

“Hey, Javier. I ended up having to ask Connie if she had heard anything about you, so that was real fun. Listen… I don’t know what the hell is going on. If you found someone else or… got tired of me, but I just—I hope you’re happy. I… I guess I’ll… I don’t know. I hope you’re fine.”

His heart clenches as your voice cracks on the last words. He can hear the hurt, the confusion in your tone, and it tears him apart. 

He can't take it anymore–the guilt, the longing, the fear. It's all too much. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

Ring… ring… rin–

"Hello?" Your voice is hesitant, guarded.

"It's me," Javier says. "I'm… sorry."

There's a long pause on the other end. He can hear you breathing, can almost feel the tension radiating off of you through the line.

"Javi?" You sound uncertain, like you can't quite believe it's him. "Where have you been? I've been so worried."

He closes his eyes, leaning against the wall. "I know, I'm sorry. There’s been a lot going on. I… I got a job offer last week. The job in DC is mine."

Another pause. "Oh," you say softly. "Javi… that’s great news. Congrats.”

"Thanks," he says before taking a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knows has to be said. "Listen, I-I think it’s best if we don’t keep doing this."

The silence on the other end of the line stretches. He can almost picture you, your eyes wide with confusion and hurt.

“This?” 

“Yeah, talking and… I just fear it’s gone too far.”

"What?" you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. "Why?"

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels his heart break as the words get caught in his throat, but he forces them out. "It's complicated. I’m so much older than you, and you’re… you're Steve's little sister, and I’ll be working with him again. It's not right. It was never right."

He hears you take a shaky breath. "So, you ignore me for over a week and then call to let me know this? I know you’re older than me. I know I’m Steve’s sister. That’s fucked Javi. How could you? I thought we had something speci—”

"I know," he interrupts. "I know, and that's why we have to stop. Before it goes any further. Before anyone gets hurt."

You gasp, and his heart clenches at the sound. He wants to take it all back, to tell you he didn't mean any of it, but he forces himself to stay silent.

“Yes, before anyone gets hurt…”

“You deserve more than me, cariño. I’m old, and I’ve been through so much. You’re still so young and full of life… I’d only hold you back. I’m sorry.”

"I see," you say, your tone suddenly cold and distant. "Well, thank you for your honesty, Agent Peña. I hope your new job in DC is everything you've ever wanted."

The formality in your voice cuts him deeper than any anger could have. He opens his mouth to speak, but you've already hung up. 

—-

He stands at the windows of his new apartment in Arlington, gazing out at the lights of DC across the Potomac. Snow falls outside, and he reminds himself he needs to buy some warmer clothing. It’s beautiful, he thinks. His eyes search the horizon, wondering if your building is visible.

His apartment is nice–modern and spacious with sleek furniture that doesn’t suit him. It’s more than he needs, really, but the DEA had been generous with their relocation package. It doesn’t feel like his place at all, but a Polaroid of you that leans against his bedside lamp makes it feel like home.

He'd chosen this place for the view, telling himself it was because he'd always wanted to live somewhere with a skyline again. But deep down, he knows it's because he wanted to look out at the city you love.

He imagines what you might be doing right now. Are you curled up on the couch, reading a book? The newspaper? Are you, like him, standing at a window, looking out at the city and wondering what might have been? Or are you out with your friends, trying to meet somebody else? Do you miss him like he misses you?

He tries to dislodge the thoughts with a shake of his head. It’s been two weeks since that phone call. Since he broke things off. Since your cold voice let him go. He tells himself it was the right thing to do, that he’s protecting you from the darkness that follows him.

In a perfect world, you’d be here, looking out the same window as he wrapped his arms around you. You’d lean back against his chest, fitting perfectly in his embrace. There’d be no hesitation, no guilt. Just pure happiness, waking up next to you every morning. In that world, Steve would be happy for you both. In that world, Javier would be happy. But he knows all too well this is not a perfect world.

—-

He goes to the Smithsonian alone, wandering through the halls of the art museum on a quiet Sunday afternoon. The same exhibit you read to him about. The same exhibit he dreamed of taking you to, holding your hand and kissing your cheek as you gazed at the paintings. He moves slowly, hands clasped behind his back, taking in each painting. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, how to describe what he’s seeing, or how to feel… he wishes you were here to help him understand. None of it makes sense to him. Are the paintings supposed to look unfinished and kind of blurry? He imagines you beside him, telling him all about the break from tradition these paintings represented. He’d nod, pretending to understand, the same way he’s nodding as he reads the guidebook.

He pauses before a painting. Vibrant flowers grow amongst the dappled sunlight–the bright colors remind him of the way your eyes light when you laugh. He can almost hear your sweet voice reading the exhibit description to him again. He wonders if you’ve been here, if you’ve stood in this very spot, admiring the same painting.

As he moves to the next painting, a flash of familiar color catches his eye. For a moment, his heart stops. A woman stands across the room, her back to him, wearing a dress in the same exact shade of green as the shirt he’d left you. She resembles you from the back, and he takes a step forward, your name on the tip of his tongue, before she turns.

It’s not you. Of course, it’s not. All that’s left now is a hollow ache in his chest.

What would he do? What would he even say? What is he doing here, a cop trying to be cultured?

He moves on, trying to focus on the art. He thinks of you again, imagines your voice in his ear. “Art is for everyone. There’s no right or wrong way to experience it. Just let yourself feel.”

Feel. He doesn’t want to feel. All he can feel is how much he misses you. How much he knows he’ll never have this with you, seeing the world through your eyes.

Each painting seems to hold a piece of you. The soft light of a Twachtman landscape captures the glow of your skin in the firelight. The bold strokes of a Sargent portrait remind him of your spirit and personality.

He pauses in front of a Renoir. A man leads a woman, her hand in his. His eyes focus on their fingers intertwined with each other’s, imagining the feel of your hand in his. He rubs his hand against the denim of his jeans, trying to warm the coldness running through his veins.

He turns away, unable to bear the sight any longer. The weight of his regret, his longing, settles heavily on his shoulders as he exits the gallery.

He'd pushed you away to protect you, but being here, surrounded by a softer, more beautiful world, he wonders if he made the right choice.

—-

He finds himself driving through the busy streets of Adams Morgan, the same neighborhood you call home. His heart pounds stronger with each turn as he navigates the unfamiliar roads. 

He parks his car and steps out onto the sidewalk, feeling out of place as he takes in the colorful row of houses and stores that line your neighborhood streets. He walks down the street, his eyes scanning the bright buildings until he finds the taco place you’d always rave about.

“I bet it’s just as good as Laredo, Javi,” he remembers you saying. “You have to try it when you’re here.”

He hesitates for a moment before pushing open the door. The small restaurant is packed.

His order is simple: two al pastor tacos and a Topo Chico, just like you’d recommended. He takes a seat at a small table by the window and waits for his order.

How many times have you walked down this very street? Have you sat at this very table?

He takes a bite of the taco. It’s good. Damn good. Almost as good as home. He can practically hear your triumphant "I told you so!"

People pass by on the sidewalk as he eats. He imagines you and him–his arm wrapped around you, your body close to his as you walk around your neighborhood. Your face lighting up as you show him all of your favorite places. He'd follow you, unable to resist your enthusiasm… or you.

The winter wind snaps against his skin as he steps out of the restaurant. He starts walking with no real destination in mind. Colorful murals, bright storefronts, and eclectic homes line the street. This is your world, he realizes. These are the sights you see and sounds you hear every day.

He wonders how close he is to your apartment. He imagines you coming home from work and stopping at one of the little bodegas on the corner for some milk or bread.

He doesn’t think he’d fit in well within this world, but he sure as hell would try, just for you. God, he misses you.

—-

Steve drops a pile of files on Javi’s desk.

“New case. Have some fun. So, how’s DC treating you?” Steve asks, casually leaning against his desk.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. Trying to hide the sadness that consumes him. “It’s different from Laredo, that’s for sure.”

Steve laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, you should come over for dinner sometime. Connie would love to see you. I’ll invite the usual group.”

Javier’s heart skips a beat as he tries to keep his face neutral. “Yeah, maybe,” he says noncommittally. “Been busy settling in, you know how it is.”

“Well, find time, Peña.”

The guilt, a constant companion these days, gnaws at him as he watches Steve leave.

—-

The early spring evening is warm. His heart beats faster as he gets out of his car and walks up the pathway to Steve’s front porch.

He steps through the front door, breathing in the scent of a happy home, feeling so out of place among the marital bliss and designer furniture.

“Javi,” Connie breezes over, looking like the perfect hostess she always is. She pulls him in for a hug. He’s always liked her, felt comfortable around her.

"Hey, Connie," he says, returning her hug. "Thanks for having me."

"Of course! I’m so happy to see you," she beams. "Come on, everyone’s outside.”

Everyone. Does that include you? He's never been this nervous, not even when he saw Lorraine after all those years.

He follows Connie through the house, his eyes scanning for any sign of you. His heart races as they step out onto the back patio. Steve's at the grill, chatting with a few friends. There are kids running around the yard, couples mingling with drinks in hand. But no sign of you.

It’s as familiar as all those months ago. He felt like an outsider… until he met you. He still searches for you. Still no sign.

"Beer?" Connie offers, already reaching into a cooler.

"Thanks," he nods, taking the cold bottle from her. He takes a long swig, trying to calm his nerves.

"Peña!" Steve calls out, waving him over. "Get over here, man!"

He makes his way across the patio, overhearing a snippet of conversation. He hears your name and slows his pace, straining to hear more.

“She’ll be a little late. Rehearsals for the play ran long.”

The play. You got the part. In a perfect world, he’d be there on opening night, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers for you. He’d watch you, so proud and in awe of your talent. After the show, he’d wait for you backstage, hold you close, and whisper in your ear how amazing you were.

Pride swells in his chest… until the guilt creeps back in.

“Hey, man,” Steve’s voice breaks through his daydream. “Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry. What?”

"I said, glad you could make it," Steve repeats.

“Oh, yeah, me too.”

“A couple of guys from work are here. I’m sure they’d love to get to know you. I’m tired of answering all of their questions about you.”

He lets out a tense chuckle. The last thing he thinks he can do is pretend to care about a group of rookie agents wanting to get to know the Javier Peña.

He really hates these parties.

—-

An hour passes. The sun begins to set, casting everything in Steve’s picturesque backyard in long shadows. Javi goes through the motions. He makes small talk with his new coworkers and Steve's friends, laughing at jokes he barely hears. His eyes keep darting to the gate, waiting for you to arrive.

He remembers the first time he saw you. You walked through the gate, your flannel shirt tucked haphazardly into your ripped jeans. He couldn’t look away from you. Maybe he knew he needed someone like you in his life–honest, bright, funny, and too cool for him.

He hears the click of the gate latch. His breath catches as he turns.

And there you are.

You look so beautiful. A plaid skirt sits just above your knees, paired with a simple white tank top under a soft, oversized cardigan. His heart hurts as he takes in your beauty, trying not to stare. You look happy, relaxed, glowing. He wonders if you know he’d be here tonight.

His rapidly beating heart sinks when you turn to say something to a man following you through the gate.

The man’s wavy chestnut hair falls perfectly in place, and thick-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, framing bright green eyes. He’s wearing a vintage t-shirt underneath a well-worn brown leather jacket. Everything about him screams, ‘hip theatre guy.’ The exact opposite of an old, grizzled DEA agent haunted by his past.

He envies the man with everything in his entire being. The way he gets to look at you–a wide smile, soft eyes that get to follow your every movement.

Javi’s jaw clenches as he watches you and your handsome stranger approach a group. Your eyes also scan the backyard, and for too quick of a moment, they meet with his… until you look away and laugh at something your companion just said. The sound feels like a knife twisting into his chest.

He’s hyper-aware of your presence all night, watching you from the corner of his eyes, each sight of you a blessing and a curse.

He tries to focus on his conversations, on Steve, on his coworkers–on anything but you. But his eyes keep drifting back. The man who came with you never strays from your side, his hand often resting on the small of your back or brushing against your arm.

He wants nothing more than to cross the patio, pull you aside, and explain everything. To beg for forgiveness, to tell you how much he misses you. But he stays rooted in place, trapped by his own choices and the consequences that followed.

The gathering begins to thin out as the night goes on. He watches as you say goodbye to a few guests, hugging them warmly. Your eyes sweep across the yard again, and for a moment, he thinks you might look his way. But you turn, whispering something to your companion before heading towards the house alone.

Before he can second-guess himself, he sets down his beer and follows you. He slips through the patio doors and can just make out the soft pad of your footsteps heading upstairs.

He follows you as if you’re a perp, softly ascending the stairs–just like that morning after he first met you. The light escapes under the door of the guest bathroom. He takes a breath, steeling himself as he waits for you to come out.

The knob turns, and his heart races as the door opens, revealing you in the soft light of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"Can I... can I apologize?" Javi asks hesitantly.

You shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, Jav. You can't."

Jav. Fuck. Hearing you say his name makes his heart drop. His hand taps against his thigh, fighting the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms.

"You hurt me," your voice trembles. Each word feels like a dagger in his heart. "I'm... I'm trying to let time pass by. To move on."

“Please, I never meant to—”

His plea is cut short by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs.

Connie appears, her keen eyes taking in the scene before her. She reaches for your hand while shooting Javi a glance. She understands without a single word spoken.

“Go on, love, go back to the party. Elliott is waiting for you,” Connie softly says to you.

He watches as you nod and quickly leave, not even sparing a glance back at him.

“Javier,” Connie says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s happy.” 

He swallows, his brown eyes rounding with the guilt he too often has to hide.

Connie's eyes soften as she looks at him, her hand still resting on his shoulder. She leads him to the guest room where he spent that first night with you.

She closes the door and motions for him to sit on the bed. The same bed he held you close on.

"Javier," she begins, her voice gentle but firm. "I know what happened. I know you care about her. And I know she cares about you. She told me.”

He looks up at her, surprised by her words. "She told you? About us?"

Connie nods, a sad smile on her lips. "She was heartbroken. That first month after you told her not to call, she was a wreck. She tried to hide it, but Steve mentioned you while she was here for dinner one night, and she… she quickly got up and made an excuse. I found her crying in this room. She told me everything.”

“Steve?” he asks, feeling even more guilt wash over him, the weight of his choices crushing his chest.

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t know. I promised not to tell him.”

“I had to let her go–for her, for Steve, for everyone." He hangs his head, staring at his clasped hands. He squeezes them harder, needing to let the pressure out somehow. He searches for the right words. "She’s happy now? With him?"

Connie nods. "Elliott is a good guy," she says gently. "He treats her well. But..." She pauses and then sighs. “But I don’t think he’s you.”

A flicker of hope ignites in his chest. “How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know. If you really want to make things right, you need to tell her how you truly feel."

He nods slowly. “I can't stop thinking about her. About what could have been."

"If you really care for her–if you're willing to face whatever might come from being with her–then you need to let her know. But if you're going to run away again at the first sign of trouble, then you have to let her go. For good this time."

“And Steve?”

“Listen, he’s a big softy underneath it all. Might take him a bit to come around to it, but I’ll hide his gun for you. I know that, in the end, as long as she’s happy, he’ll be happy.”

He nods. He knows you’re the one. “Thanks, Connie.”

She stands, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just think about it, okay? And whatever you decide, be sure. She deserves that much."

Connie leaves him alone in the bedroom. He runs his hand along the comforter, closing his eyes, and can almost feel the warmth of your body curled against his. He wishes he could hold you again.

He takes a deep breath, his decision made.

—-

The house lights dim, the audience hushes, and the stage lights brighten. The curtain draws back, and there you are, center stage, glowing like an ethereal being.

His heart soars with pride as he watches you mesmerize the crowd with your talent. You embody your character completely, and he’s in awe of you even from his seat in the back row.

He hears the familiar lines of the end monologue–the same lines he heard you recite over and over months ago. They transport him back to those nights spent on the phone with you. The familiar ache in his chest gets tighter, squeezing his heart harder. A lone tear wells in his eye as he mouths the final line with you.

“I’d rather be alone than a stranger.”

The crowd erupts into applause as the curtain closes. You were flawless. He knew you’d be amazing.

You return to the stage, a wide smile on your face, the stage lights glinting off unshed tears in your eyes.

Now’s his chance. He slips out the stage door, walking down a side hallway marked "Authorized Personnel Only." In this hand, he clutches a bouquet of bright flowers and the day’s newspaper.

He pauses at each door, reading the names scrawled on makeshift placards. He finally finds yours, glancing over his shoulder before gently turning the doorknob.

He’s never been in a space of yours before. He knows he has to be quick, but he takes a moment to breathe in the scent of your perfume.

He places the bouquet and newspaper on the vanity, before quickly exiting and slipping out the stage door.

—-

Javi paces in his apartment, unable to sit still. He can still hear your voice and picture how you looked under the stage lights.

It’s been hours since he left the flowers in your dressing room. Did you find them? Did you read his note? Has enough time passed?

He pours himself a glass of whiskey, hoping it might calm him.

As he raises the glass to his lips, the shrill ring of his phone cuts through the quiet. He sets down his drink and reaches for the phone.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself before answering. "Hello?"

"Javi." Your voice is soft and hesitant. He closes his eyes, smiling at the sound he's missed so much.

“Hey,” he says, a relieved smile lighting his face. “Congratulations. You were incredible.”

“Thank you. The flowers are beautiful… and the newspaper?"

His heart speeds in his chest. “I-I was hoping we could read the news together like old times?”

Silence hangs between the two of you as he waits for your response.

“I’d… I’d like that. What’s your address?”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I was re-reading POA and was surprised about how open Harry is with Lupin. There are a couple instances of him not wanting to say something because he thinks it’s shameful/embarrassing but then he can’t help himself from opening up to lupin anyway. It reminds me a lot of how he acts with Sirius in GOF and OOTP. But I also think he stopped sharing his feelings with lupin after POA because of the distance that lupin was trying to put between them. It always seems like lupin wants to connect with Harry but won’t let himself because of all the stuff he has going on with himself (him reaching out to put his hand on his shoulder but thinking better of it is a pretty good example). It’s kinda a shame though, it would have been nice if Lupin allowed himself to be closer to Harry because their relationship could have been another place where Harry could be open and confide in another person with.

Yeah, I talked a bit about their dynamic here, but in PoA, Harry found an adult who he likes, and the adult likes him and respects him and he's trying so hard to latch onto that one positive connection and get closer to Lupin. Lupin is like, the first teacher Harry actually looked up to.

I mean, Dumbledore is more of a distant figure at first and Harry's feelings about him are complicated later on. Harry treats Hagrid more like his peer than like his elder. He respects McGonagall immensely, but she always had a more distant and professional air to her.

Remus, on the other hand, already saved Harry from dementors on the train (so he's competent), he clearly likes Harry and he calls all the students by their first names. Lupin is the cool and hip teacher who wants all the kids to like him so he comes up with cool lesson plans and falls behind on the curriculum (according to Snape).

Remus' behavior encourages Harry to look up to and open up to him. Harry never had an adult he could really count on and felt close to. He loves Arthur and Molly, but he doesn't feel like they're his family. Also, he doesn't really register them as competent wizards. But Remus — Remus is everything Harry wants from an adult mentor figure.

It's why Harry keeps going out of his way to talk to him. To convince him to teach him the Patronus Charm. And Remus, well, Remus, as always, is conflicted.

Remus can't have good things in his life. He thinks he doesn't deserve good things in his life. He thinks he is awful and ruins the lives of everyone he is close to just by being there.

I think he really likes Harry. I think he sees Harry as his own person, who isn't James or Lily, and who is talented and capable and brave. But Remus thinks he isn't worthy of being associated with Harry. He thinks Harry must be happier however he is living now, and anyway, he's a werewolf, he couldn't offer Harry anything better (that's what he thinks). It's why he doesn't even offer to take Harry with him, why he never writes to Harry. He twists himself in guilt and shame so he thinks everyone is better off without him which is his go-to excuse on why he shouldn't be responsible for things/people.

And Harry isn't stupid, he can tell when someone doesn't want to talk to him (which Remus is very much acting like), so he stops. It also helps that at the end of PoA, Sirius appears, and Sirius is everything Remus is (capable, likes Harry, cool, very un-Dursley) but more — because he wants Harry to come live with him. He wants Harry to write to him and talk to him. He wants to tell Harry about James and Lily. Sirius comes in after a year in which Harry got the first positive adult role-model (Remus) and then, just, improved the formula by wanting to be there for Harry and not struggling to keep up the distance like Lupin was doing.

As such, post-PoA, we see Harry have the same openness (and even more so) with Sirius. Harry stops talking to Remus because Remus didn't talk to him. I think he felt a little betrayed that Remus didn't tell him he was friends with James throughout the whole year, too. Like, I think it's reasonable that Harry somewhat gave up on Lupin post-PoA. Remus is the one who gave up on a connection with Harry first.

Could their relationship have been better and a source of comfort to Harry? Definitely. But Remus is doing what he always does. What he tried to do with Tonks (even after he got her pregnant) — he forces himself not to get attached and runs away.

[myrrusstuff]

Streamer!Jinx Headcanons!

Just some basic ideas and drabbles pooled into one post. I see a lot of streamer!ellie and streamer!vi, but barely any jinx if any at all. I don’t know, I just think she’d be the funniest streamer ever.

CW: Cursing? bits of Jinx x f!reader. jokes about jinx being cancelled, homophobia mentions.

Streamer!Jinx who got surprised when she blew up pretty fast. For the wrong reasons, Ofcourse (controversy, because she can’t keep her mouth shut), but once it smoothed over she gained a lot of following

She has no filter. None. The second something pops into her head, she says it aloud. She deals with the consequences afterwards.

Her room is either really messy, or oddly tidy. On that note, Streamer!Jinx that decorated her whole setup and desk, plus her headphones. They’re all covered in scribbles and spraypaint.

Streamer!Jinx that sometimes manages to convince you to play on stream with her, addressing you as a close friend to keep you both comfortable and safe online.

She constantly says “chat” and “gang”, even when she’s not streaming. Vi and Ekko pick up on it and comment on it frequently, using it to tease her.

Rages at Minecraft. 100%. She joined MCC, just to ragequit half way through because her team was in dead last. Her chat watched her leave the server and walk out of her room on the webcam. She had to take a whole 15 minuet break and come back with a cup of coffee to calm down.

She would start a Minecraft hardcore series just to hide in a hole as soon as it turns night, before logging off and never returning.

"Guys this is my first episode of... MINECRAFT HARDCORE!

…

Chat this seems to be my first AND last episode."

Jinx who accidentally revealed your relationship on live. She slipped up and called you "darling" or "babe", and her chat never dropped it.

"BABE?!"

"Holy shit did she just call her babe?"

"Ladies, we have a chance!"

"DID WE HEAR THAT RIGHT"

She tried to change the topic, "We’re going to win this round!", to say she lost, and her chat didn’t drop the topic, would be an understatement.

She got cancelled for homophobia once, because she went on a 'just chill and talk' live about how she didn’t approve of Caitlyn and Vi being together. It got taken the wrong way and had to explain that she’s infact Queer with a girlfriend. She defended herself with "Guys, I’m literally dating.." after she revealed your relationship, and then went on a rant sesh about you. She’s the biggest yapper ever.

Her twitch account got banned or suspended once because she got so mad at a kid on Fortnite that she cursed him out and went overboard. (Again, she has no filter).

She mainly plays Minecraft and gun games. But sometimes she’ll do longer lives for charity where she’ll play the chat’s top pick.

She accidentally showed your face on stream once, forgetting to tell you her webcam was on. You didn’t realise until later that day there were edits of you on your own fyp or twitter TL. "Babe, you might wanna see this.."

Jinx still gets confused whenever she sees an edit of herself. Also, she has a public favourite folder of edits of you. She doesn’t know how to edit it to make it private.

Once you got comfortable showing your face on webcam, Jinx hosted a “do my hair and Q&A” stream where you braided and brushed her hair while you both answered questions. Any excuse to spend time with you at the same time as working.

Notes: first time ever writing jinx, so I thought I’d start with headcanons. Do we want a streamer!jinx fic? Like an actual fic? Pls give me ideas on what to write abt her. This was re uploaded from my old blog @myrruwrites.

[allfearstofallto]

if you’re still doing the yandere alphabet, could you do E,L,P,T,X, and Y for childe? no worries if not, I love ur writing! <3

I've definitely been wanting to write more of these!! Thank you so much!!!

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: Yandere, obsession, mentions of stalking

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Childe is open. More open than you'd want him to be and more open than you're willing to hear. You tend to not care about his back story or his interests, but he'll tell you regardless and you're forced to listen.

But if you do listen, really listen, really take in what he says, maybe you'll be able to see how much information he omits. Stories he laughs off like they're funny, are traumatizing in nature. The things he says are horrifying, scary in a way that would change a person permanently. 

He assures you that no such thing has happened with a playful smile, but you see the subtle twitch of his eyebrow and quiver of his lip. He's truthful, but not completely honest.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Childe is one of the few yanderes who's approach will be different based on where his standing is with you.

Know him as that one guy you met on the streets of Liyue, the one who was rather charming, but also rather persistent about seeing you again and he'll court you proper. The whole nine yards. He'll be the ideal boyfriend, albeit with a few quirks that can be brushed off. Mostly his fierce, protective jealousy and strangely short temper. 

Know him as the fatui harbinger? He'll also be just that. It's even worse if you owe money to the northland bank, a debt that he insists that you pay back with your affection rather than money. He won't even attempt to hide his true nature. You already know who he is and what he's capable of. Rather, he'll try to force you to fall in love with the real him, by any means necessary.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? 

Patient as a fighter, patient at heart. Childe isn't inherently cruel. At least to you he's not. He'll give you time, space, conversation, whatever he thinks you may need to make you more comfortable. But that isn't him being generous. His patience comes with the expectation that you'll eventually fall into the role expected of you.

Refuse or even worse, actively fight him after all the kindness he's given you and you won't see that tolerance anymore. Expectations are higher with harsher consequences if not done when he wants, exactly how he wants. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Oh, does he hate that crying face of yours. He can't stand to see you sad, let alone actually sobbing. Each year rolling down your cheek is like a stab to his heart, he can hardly bear the agony.

He's quick to console you when you cry, especially when he's the one who caused it. Although he can't help, but notice you tend to cry harder when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. Even though he hates your tears, he hates the disdain you have for him more. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Worship is a strong word. Childe loves you. Adores you. He does put you on a bit of a pedestal, believing you to be better than most people. But worship? Worship is a bit much.

Childe doesn't feel like he has to win you over. The depraved side of him believes he already owns you. Of course, you also own him as well, if you so desire. But because of that, his actions has him seeing you as almost an equal. Almost. There are still times where he loses himself in the desperation and desire to have you completely.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Like a fish needs water, like a man needs air, Childe yearns for you in a way that's animalistic in nature. Childe knows about you long before you know about him. 

“Snapping” is a term that can't entirely be used for him because of this. You can't really lose it if it was never really there. The second he saw you, the second he felt the way he did, the way you made his heart pound the same way it would if he were to be thrusts into the throes of a fierce battle, he's already plotting how he plans to take you.

[signanothername]

I– I need to ask.

HOW DO YOU DO THIS?? Like, share your thoughts with everyone. Because I've been working on my universe for about three years now, AND I STILL FEEL LIKE IT'S NOT READY. At the same time, I’m still afraid to share these things...

So. How do you do it?D:

Alright my answer will seem a bit harsh and/or cruel, but know that I mean it in the most kind, genuine, and gentle way possible, i just don’t know how to word it any other way

With that in mind

Anon, you’re never going to be ready to share it, and the fear will always linger, you will never be 100% confident of what you share

And that’s ok

Again, I know that i make it seem super easy, but I promise that I’m just as afraid to share my ideas as anyone else (I’m a perfectionist, and that also contributes to my fear to share things)

It’s just, I think of it this way

I have an idea, and I got two choices

Either

1- I keep overthinking it, and succumb to my worries and fears when it comes to my idea, and keep my ideas with me, never to see the light of day

Or

2- I acknowledge that I’m afraid, acknowledge that my idea might not be perfect or ready, acknowledge that there might be flaws that I will probably notice later and even feel stupid about it, and still share my ideas anyway regardless of the voice in my head telling me to “wait a little more”

I usually go for choice number 2

The art and writing process is complicated, it’s so not easy to write something and feel ready to share it, no matter how much time it takes, you will never ever feel truly and utterly ready to share it, you’ll have that worry in your mind that maybe it’s stupid, or incomplete, or inconsistent or whatever else

And guess what? Sometimes, the worried voice in your head is completely right

But what matters is how you tackle it

Even if you share an idea, remember that you can always change your mind about it, you can absolutely go back and say, I don’t like that idea anymore and so I’ll remove/ change/ replace it

Ideas are never set in stone, you change and grow as a person as so do your ideas, they grow and change with you as you learn more and more, and sometimes they don’t, they don’t change at all, and that’s ok too

You can’t keep worrying about whether the story or idea you’re working on is ready or complete, because all you’re going to do is just walk around in circles and end up never sharing anything at all

It’s ok to be worried, but you can’t let your worries control you, of course, it’s not easy to ignore your worries, but it’s better than feeling stuck with your ideas

I myself do deal with these worries a lot, most of the time i just tell my brain “shut up” and share my ideas anyway, other times my worries do get the best of me and i tend to keep some ideas to myself

But sharing your ideas is actually essential for you to actually be able to work on them and refine them, because people might start asking questions or giving really good feedback that you actually sit with yourself to think about

But what if they ask you a question and you don’t know the answer to it? That’s actually a good thing, it’ll make you sit down and think of how to connect the dots and answer it, not only does it mean you’re actually making progress on your story/ideas, but these kinda questions help you understand different perspectives and by that, you learn and grow in your writing

It’s ok to be worried and to keep ideas to yourself sometimes, but don’t let them fester, because believe me, eventually your passion is gonna burn out because you kept overthinking it to the point it became just a worry than something you enjoy doing

In fact, to give you a bit of motivation, imma actually share one of the ideas I never shared cause I was afraid it’ll be a bit stupid and out of character

And I’m very worried about sharing it, but fuck my worry I do what I want

Remember when I mentioned Dream received one gift from Nightmare, and never received anything after? My idea for that gift was an echo flower he gave Dream, and it echoes one thing “I love you”

There, I shared it ouuughh the stress of sharing it is killing me actually, but I mean I can keep worrying about it forever, or actually share it and refine it later if I wanted, I choose the latter

And your ideas are never going to be perfect anyway, but you can improve them with time, even after sharing them

That’s all I do really shzggz

So go out there and start sharing anon, fuck anxiety, you can do whatever you want, you’re unstoppable

[dokidokidraft]

Sub JJK Men Hcs

A/n: Im sry about kinktober guys, hcs are just easier to write rn. Plus, I’ve had this in my drafts for a while.(since August…)

⇨Masterlist⇦

Warnings: smut, nsfw, the title says it all. Dom!afab!reader, no pronouns used tho, sub jjk men (separate), overstimulation, edging, dracryphilia, brat taming, bondage/gagging, pegging, and gun play in Toji’s

Includes: Satoru Gojo, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro

More in part two, I promise. Request specific characters if you’d like!

꧁Satoru Gojo꧂

This man has 2 moods

#1 is whiny, obedient sub who’s kinda desperate. This only happens when he’s had a tough day at work and need to cool down a little.

#2 is his most common, the brat. Disobedient, cocky, and his ego goes through the roof. Tries to take charge most of the time.

He's super into overstimulation, whether he’s a crying, begging mess, or you need to brat tame him a bit.

The punishment that best works for him is the chastity cage. The pain turns pleasurable for him, but your always so cruel and hide the key. The longest he’s gone is 4 days, before he was begging (full on his knees, tears in his eyes, hands together as if he was praying) for you to take it off.

One of the loudest men on this list. I’m talking moans, whimpers, grunts, whines, the whole damn package.

Even when he’s being bratty, and TRYING to block out the noise, he’s crying out your name like it’s the only word he knows.

Hates edging, so that’s also an optimal punishment for him. Being on the brink of orgasm, teetering off the edge, before you pull him back down to earth is probably the worst feeling ever. (maybe second to the chastity)

Doesn’t like getting spanked or anything like that, but do use his blindfold to tie his wrists to the bed frame, etc.

Super big praise kink, but degradation also makes him moan, even when he tried to convince himself he doesn’t like it.

But oh god, when you ride him. That’s what really gets him going, seeing you bounce on top of him, tits swaying enticingly in front of his face. that's his absolute favourite thing.

Heavy aftercare is needed with this guy. I’m talking bubble bath, chocolates, and at least half an hour of snuggling afterwards.

“I’m NOT begging for you to blow me. I’m the strongest, I don’t beg”

“God, woman! J-just let me cum already! I’ll even let you peg me again just don’t edge me anymore….ple-e-ease…”

꧁Geto Suguru꧂

Not on the bratty side, but not completely submissive either

As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.

One of his biggest kinks is hair pulling, especially if he’s eating you out. Making eye contact and feeling the tug on his scalp while you force your cunt against his face is just heaven for him.

Also loves being edged. Unlike Satoru, he loves to feel the buzz when he gets denied, loves the feeling of you in control.

He doesn’t usually need to be punished, but on the odd occasion when he does, the best option is simply putting him on a sex ban. The chastity doesn’t really sit right with him, but not getting any pussy is definitely torture.

Like it when you tie him up, but make it overdramatic. Give him full-on jewelled handcuffs, and a bright red, shiny ball gag, with a side of fairy lights hung around the bed frame.

Whenever you gag him, he makes sure to be extra loud to entertain you. His muffled moans will be replaying in your head for days.

Speaking of which, you definitely get some noise complaints from the neighbours.

Would much rather be giving you oral, but once your tongue touches the too of his cock I can promise you he whimpers from the tiniest touch 🥺

He will buy a new bed, and make it fucking massive. He wants to try every single position possible, that’s a given.

Has a habit of biting the pillow to muffle his moans <3

“Tying me up again, huh? Don’t you ever get bored of it? Oh, did that earn me the gag yet?”

“Sex ban? You’re joking. You’re fucking joking. Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”

꧁Toji Fushiguro꧂

Submissive? Not at all…until you ride him

He would sell his soul to have you go cowgirl on him for the first time again

Toji likes the chastity cage bc it’s like a challenge for him, seeing how long he can last

If you try to peg him I’d suggest like…writing your loved ones a note :)

Overstimulation is his JAM (for both of you) but it takes fucking forever for him to get a bit overstimulated, this man has a shot ton of stamina.

When you convince him to sub, he can go all night. He’ll just be lazy and take it, whatever you give him, with lots of suggestive comments along the way

Giving him a blow job is the best way to relax him, especially if you have your nails done and use your hand at the base <3

He may or may not secretly love when you step on him, it gets him going like crazy

Hold him at gunpoint and he will be hard as a rock. He taught his girl well, and loves the thought of her overpowering him like that

Car sex. That’s it.

When you guys get really into it his hair will fall in front of his face, and if you gently brush it out of the way he falls in love all over again.

“Wanna suck on it, doll? I promise I won’t force it down your throat like last time, take your time.”

“I heard pineapple makes your cum taste sweet. Think we should try it? I’ll be the lovely taste tester if ya ride me afterwards.”

[marvelandponder]

I'm gonna speak from my experience and it's probably going to be different than OP's and that's okay

I had super bad social anxiety from about 10th grade through most of university. I straight up believed that if I didn't have anything "worthwhile" to say, it was a burden to say anything at all, because then you'd be subjecting people to a painfully awkward social interaction they didn't want

So basically everything I had to say wasn't "worth it" and I felt like I was failing every social interaction, or cowarding out by hiding myself away when it became too exhausting

I think over the course of those years I had about 4 or 5 therapists?

Each was helpful for different reasons but the one that was the most helpful was a guy who had me write out what I believed about socializing. And we picked them apart until we got to the underlying truth

The one that really stuck out to me was we basically got to a point where he was like "so you believe human beings are inherently judgemental"

That didn't feel right. Like, yeah, we have automatic passing thoughts, but most people don't really care about what's weird with others for more than few seconds. Then they're focused on themselves again

So that stuck out to me as a belief I could revise. Where were examples of when people didn't care about me being awkward or not knowing how to socialize?

We devised a plan to test the new theory

I was in university at the time, and there were scheduled meet ups in our LGBTQA+ centre's on campus. That seemed like a pretty safe place to try things- I had even been there before

So I went. I went a few times. It was still tough sometimes but I started to feel more safe saying things, contributing to set discussion topics, or just being quiet when I didn't have anything to add (and not beating myself up for having nothing to add)

That built a little bit of confidence, then I had a few job experiences that helped too. At first those sucked - I would have panic attacks sometimes. But then around the time I was doing this therapy, I got one where I could tell my managers first thing, hey, I've got anxiety, this is what it might look like if I have a panic attack. And I didn't have a single one that term, or the term after.

I built up confidence just by reinforcing my new beliefs that people really weren't as hyperfocused as I was. I became more social - I had a cubicle of three other students around me, so I joined in on their discussions and even had a good time

Fast forward a few years, I'm now more comfortable and confident in any social situation than ever. I call with friends every week, I go out with my partner and do all sorts of stuff together, I have this huge community of people around me in all kinds of capacities!

I'm not you, and what worked for me isn't gonna be what works for you. Also? It's valid as fuck to not be in a place where you can at all comfortably socialize with any human beings at all, and to be there for so long that you just straight give up. Or maybe it's all you've ever known

That's fucking valid and you don't need to feel ashamed for it. And also, in my personal experience as someone who couldn't socialize without anxiety for several very formative years, people can become social

Doesn't mean you have to, or that one is better than the other. I'm just saying I was in a big doomer place before about my own ability to socialize and if I was talking to my past self, she'd be so fucking relieved to hear that things get better and she doesn't have panic attacks about talking to people anymore. She actually likes it

people are way way too generous in assuming that you can just “learn to be social” and everyone will welcome you with open arms and forgive you forever for all the years you spent not talking to people. sorry no. if you don’t start out social you never get the opportunity to become social. people assume that’s just how you are and treat you accordingly, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy

[revelboo]

Reading up on your fics has essentially become a daily activity for me. It's really helpful in rougher days I need something to look forward to :)

You also got me into blokees! I'm now gambling away in hopes of getting Kickback (my beloved).

That's all! Thank you for all the writing and please take care <3

Thank you! I’m glad you like my stories!

He’s a cutie and if they follow their current pattern, we should get Shrapnel or Bombshell in the next wave

You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 6

Insecticons x Reader

• Overwhelmed and drowning in memories, thoughts, and emotions that aren’t yours, it’s like swimming in light. Feeling both of them tangling in you, warm and coaxing softly. And you can almost sense the unspoken question there even as you retreat from them, feeling them both trailing after you like shooting stars. Every time they brush against you, more of them spills into you until you feel like you know them as well as you know yourself. Kickback just wanting to be seen and acknowledged by his brothers, knowing he’s not as strong as they are. Hating how much he has to rely on them. Shrapnel wanting to protect his hive, wanting a queen and home. To not be dependent on Megatron knowing how little he thinks of them. That they’re inferior.

• It’s a different sort of hunt, racing after you as you make them chase. Every time Kickback brushes against you, he gets a bit more of you. Learning who you are. Your dreams and desires becoming his to protect. Can feel when your confusion shifts to something more playful. Refusing to surrender to them still, but he doesn’t mind. Knows he won’t be able to fully bond with you until you let him. Until he’s worthy of it. And wants that.

• Your light and warmth beckon Shrapnel, wanting to be the one to capture you, to drift through all of you. Aware of Kickback refusing to back down, when he always submits, his brother as desperate as he is. And then you’re turning to face them and they both crash into you, twining about you. Coaxing for you to claim them in return and unable to be truly angry when you resist. Because you’re not going to be conquered. You’re going to make them prove themselves.

• “Pit spawned, greedy little glitches,” that deep, snarling voice startles you, strangely aware of your real body still pinned between them. Of the feel of Kickback’s spike rubbing against your belly and Sharpnel rutting against your inner thigh as their sparks tangle through you. And that connection pulls and shatters to make you whimper, feeling like you lost something that matters. Head lifting as they hastily right their plating protecting their sparks, you stare at Bombshell. At the blood on his clawed servos as he throws a dead deer down to make you flinch. “Like fragging sparklings.”

• Glaring at his brothers as Kickback at least looks apologetic, Bombshell licks his servos clean. This is how they repay him for providing for the hive? Shrapnel just grinning up at him before turning his attention back on their human. And you squirm between them, reaching up to catch Kickback’s head and to push him away when he tries to claim your mouth to coax you into mating again. “No,” you say and his optics narrow behind his visor as Kickback hesitates. “Talk first.” And he laughs to make you look up at him.

• “That’s more like it. Can’t have a timid queen,” the biggest one growls. Bombshell. After being tangled in his brothers, you know him well enough to be wary of him. To realize he’s as likely to eat you as fuck you. Trying to not look at the deer, your stomach roils. Is that dinner? You have a bad feeling it is and that’s a hard pass. “Make your demands,” Bombshell adds, his long glossa sliding over his servos. Making you remember exactly how those glossas feel inside you.

• Servos ghosting over soft skin, Kickback vents softly, singing out softly when you sit up to straddle him, forcing Shrapnel to let you go and back off some. “We were just worried you might eat our little queen, queen,” Shrapnel says, flashing Bombshell a grin as he turns his attention on the deer. Can feel his spike aching and hard, but behaves instead of lifting you and guiding you to ride him. Looking to you for guidance and you seem to suddenly realize they’re all watching you. Waiting.

Previous

[darkwitchoferie]

Train Ride - Chapter 8, Exhibitionism, Stress Relief, and Painting

A/N: First - sorry this took longer than I originally intended. That may continue as my personal shit has gotten a bit more complicated. Second - I lied – there’s another chapter now. So, there’s a total of 10 chapters, 3 of which happen after the original oneshot. This is another long one, y’all. But then, there’s three separate scenes in this one, so it’s not surprising. The next two chapters are the same – three scenes each.

Not specific to this fic – but when did we, collectively as a fanfic writing community, decide that Changbin calls his partner ‘bunny’ and Minho uses ‘kitten’? I’ve seen it in tons of fics. Like, not upset about it or even really questioning WHY we decided that, just wondering when it happened.

I just realized, on proofreading this, that there’s no Felix. At all. Damn. It’s alright, the next chapter starts with him.

Cw/tw: exhibitionism, group sex, unprotected vaginal and anal sex, oral (m & f receiving), facefucking, member x member action, a little breath play, featuring (a little) of Seungmin’s fondness for being manhandled by Changbin, cock warming, cum eating and sharing,

Wc: 5.7k

Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

~~ Exhibitionism ~~

Since the orgy that brought Jisung and Minho into the polycule, things had been going very well for you and the members. You had explained the pendent necklace Chan had given you and that, if they saw you wearing it, it was blanket permission to play with you. That was something every single one of them took advantage of whenever they could. Changbin, one of the three of your boyfriends who shared your exhibitionist kink, had also called you to the studio during a recording session. You’d enjoyed it a lot more than you might have expected. Not only the sex, but also watching whichever of your boyfriends was in the recording booth watch you and be unable to participate because he had to record. Jeongin, Felix, and Jisung had had to fully turned their backs in an effort to maintain their composure.

You also had scheduled date days with each of the boys, and they had them with each other as well. Frequently, you had additional dates that were with all of the boys, or just a few of them. But you all made sure to make time for one-on-one dates once a month. Sometimes they weren’t very long or got pushed back due to late or changing schedules, but that was something you were used to from having been with Chan for so long.

Usually, when that happened, whoever’s date had been pushed back, would want to have an apartment date, rather than going out. Apartment date was just the wording the nine of you had agreed on for an at-home date, usually your home. They were the more romantic dates, seeing as you and seven of your boyfriends couldn’t really be romantic publicly.

Yours and Minho’s date night had unfortunately been pushed back several times over three weeks, so you were both craving some romantic affection. Not that you hadn’t seen him at all in that time or that you two hadn’t been romantic, you had, you just hadn’t been able to have a date with him. So you weren’t surprised when Minho asked for your date with him to be an apartment date.

It was the middle of the day when Minho planned to come over. The eight of them had a day off, so he had no other commitments that would mean your date had to be in the evening. But, because you were both looking for a more romantic atmosphere, you’d pulled the curtains tight over your kitchen window and balcony door to darken your apartment, then lit a couple candles in the living room to lend everything a more romantic atmosphere.

While you were in your room changing into more comfortable lounge clothes, you heard the door open. You hurried out as soon as you were dressed to find Minho standing in the middle of your living room, looking around.

“How is it that there are eight of us, each with different wants and personalities, and you still somehow always know exactly what to do for us?” he asked softly, turning to look at you.

You grinned, pleased that you’d read the situation right. “I know my men,” you answered, shrugging a shoulder as if it were no big deal.

He strode up to you, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in to claim your lips in a soft kiss. “Thank you, kitten. This is just exactly what I needed today.”

In short order, the pair of you had spread out the snacks and drinks Minho had brought on your coffee table then cuddled on your couch, watching your favorite movie. He was wedged into the corner of your couch and you were cuddled half on top of him, thoroughly relaxed and enjoying your movie.

Lazily, mostly watching the movie, his hand had drifted from around your waist to groping your boobs over your tank top. His touch was light, with very little intention in his actions, mostly like he was playing with a fidget toy to keep his focus on the screen. You thought it was kind of funny, especially how he wasn’t the only one to treat your boobs that way. Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin all did as well. Hyunjin liked to tap on or trace designs on your belly, while Jisung and Felix were more fond of your thighs.

After the movie ended, you stretched out, arching enough to press your boob more firmly into Minho’s hand. Then you sighed and slumped back against him again. After another content moment, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, then stood up and started clearing away the trash from your snacks. You saw him reach for his phone, but didn’t comment, not particularly caring who he was texting as long as he didn’t spend the rest of your date on it.

After tossing the trash into the trash can, you went to the refrigerator to grab more drinks. You squeaked in surprise when you felt Minho press up against your ass while you were bent over, looking in the fridge.

You stood up, pressing your ass more firmly against him and feeling him grow harder. “Something I can help you with, baby?” you tease.

“Mm, there might be,” he reached forward to grip your hips. You grinned as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. You tilted your head over and slightly back to rest on his shoulder and give him full access to the side of your neck. You gripped his thigh, moaning, when he sucked a hickey into the side of your neck. “Mm,” he hummed against your skin. “I’m hungry kitten. Got anything I could eat?”

You knew what he wanted you to say, so instead you leaned down into the refrigerator again, making sure your ass was firmly against his hard on. “Let’s see,” you wiggled your hips a little. “There’s the left over Chinese from yesterday, kimchi, I could make ramen if you want.”

Tightening his grip on your hips, he pulled you away from the fridge. “Not what I’m hungry for.”

“Oh, did you wanna order pizza?” you asked, working to keep your voice as innocent as possible.

Rather than answer you, he quickly slid your lounge shorts and panties down your legs, flipped you around, and lifted you onto the counter beside the fridge. Your panties and shorts dropped off your ankles as soon as you were in the air. “Tease,” he accused, stepping between your legs and running two fingers up your folds, flicking your clit with the pads of those fingers.

“Oh, is that what you wanted? You should’ve said, baby.” He gave you an unimpressed glare as he crouched down to be face-level with your pussy. Your giggle at his glare was abruptly cut off into a moan when he immediately wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

Minho wrapped his arms around your thighs, well acquainted with your habit of squeezing peoples’ heads if they didn’t hold your thighs open. You threaded your fingers in his hair as he devoured your pussy, licking, sucking, and tongue fucking you just the way you loved. The build to your orgasm was steady, but fast, as Minho seemed intent on getting you to cum quickly. Your moans turned whiney as he repeatedly flicked his tongue over your clit, before wrapping his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth again.

You moaned, loud and long, curling around his head, as your orgasm rushed through you.

You leaned your head back against the cupboard, panting to catch your breath. “You know that the eight of us talk about you and any… fantasies you may share with us, right?”

“You know the eight of us talk about you and anything we think you’d enjoy, right?” You countered.

A small smile flashed across his face. “Channie was telling us all about the night you confessed to wanting this arrangement and what fantasies you’d admitted to at the time.”

“Hm. That explains why Bin didn’t shower after the gym on his way here last week.”

“Mm,” he hummed his agreement. “You did look so good riding his thigh.” It had become rather frequent that the nine of you sent sex photos and videos to the group chat. “And we all know he loves how messy you get.” At the time, Changbin had taken a photo of his thigh, shiny and slick with your arousal and cum.

You grinned. “I assume there’s a point?”

“There’s a balcony, actually,” he nodded his head in the direction of the curtains covering your balcony door.

“Minho, it’s the middle of the day!” You couldn’t deny though that the thought of what he was suggesting made your pussy clench.

“Kitten, you gonna tell me that doesn’t excite you more?” His mocking tone and the smirk on his face, not to mention the way his fingers danced up your inner thigh, told you that he knew exactly what you thought.

He tugged you off the counter, shepherding you toward the balcony door. He pulled your tank top up and off just as he pushed you through the open door and onto your balcony. You took a second to appreciate that your building was one of the ones that had walls separating the balconies rather than just fences. Sure, the potential of being caught was part of the thrill, but you didn’t want to jeopardize the guys’ careers and reputations. The walls and deep shadows created by them would protect Minho’s identity.

Minho joined you, having only slid his sweats down enough to pull his cock out, and crowded you against the railing. “You’ll have to be quiet, kitten. I’m not going to cover your mouth, and it’s not like you have a shirt to bite on.” Then he flipped you around and pressed against your back, forcing you to bend over the railing. Your belly rested on the top of the railing, leaving your head and tits to hang over the edge. He then grabbed both of your hands, holding them in a relaxed grip in one of his behind your lower back.

You felt him run his cock head up and down your slit a few times before he gripped one of your hips with his free hand and slammed into you. Not prepared for his speed, you didn’t have time to muffle the loud moan you let out. You quickly clenched your jaw shut as he immediately set a fast pace.

“Any one of those people down there could look up any time, kitten.” He was mostly hidden by the shadows of your balcony and every other word he spoke was punctuated with a harsh thrust of his hips. “What a view that would be, huh? You with your gorgeous tits bouncing over the railing.”

You whimpered, trying so hard to stay quiet. Your complex’s parking lot wasn’t exactly teeming with people, no matter what time of day, but it was the end of the work day, so many of your neighbors were coming home. and the thrill of any of them looking up and seeing you was setting you on edge almost as fast as Minho’s cock was. Your pussy clenched with Minho’s words and the images that put in your mind.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Someone down there looking up here to see you being fucked out in the open like this.” You screwed your eyes shut in an effort to focus on keeping quiet. Instead, doing so heightened your other senses so you clearly heard the cars not too far away on the road, felt the breeze through your hair and over your tits. Behind you, Minho chuckled. “Well, look at that, two someones have seen you.”

Your eyes flew open and you spotted Changbin and Seungmin looking up at you. Seungmin blew you a kiss while Changbin pulled out his phone and took either a couple photos or a short video. You whimpered, looking down at them watching you was bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. After a minute or so, the pair headed into the building. You turned your head to look back at Minho.

“I texted them,” he confirmed your half formed thought. “Thought I shouldn’t be the only one who gets to enjoy you out in the fresh air.”

You whimpered again, head dropping forward. The thought of three of your boyfriends using you out on the balcony, where anyone could look up and see you, had you curling against the railing and biting your bottom lip to keep quiet as you came.

“Aw, kitten, did that make you cum? Really?”

“What?”

“I told her I called you both so you could enjoy her in the fresh air too and she almost immediately came.”

“Pretty girl loves the thrill, don’t you?” Seungmin came to stand beside you, back against the railing.

You purposely clenched around Minho, feeling desperate to have him cum in you. With a groan, he pulled out of you and you felt his cum splash on your ass.

“No,” you whined.

“Poor kitten,” Minho teased, panting to catch his breath.

Changbin, judging by the fingers on your ass, stepped up behind you and swiped his fingers through the cum on your ass, gathering some up. He then reached forward and shoved his two fingers into your mouth. You moaned around his fingers, sucking Minho’s cum off them with the same enthusiasm as if it were his cock, not just Bin’s fingers. Bin thrust his fingers in your mouth a few times while you heard him unzipping his jeans with his other hand. Then his fingers were gone.

He interlaced his fingers with yours, keeping your hands pinned to your hips, as he thrust into you. Immediately he set a brutal pace, rocking you against the railing.

“I wonder, kitten, if we took you camping, would you let us fuck you in the woods?” Minho asked from somewhere behind you.

“Oh God,” Changbin groaned as you clenched around him. “Yeah, I think she would. I think she’d like that a lot, huh bunny?”

“Hm, out in the woods, huh? Bet you wouldn’t have to be quiet out there, pretty girl.” Seungmin’s fingers danced up your spine with his words. His fingers continued over your shoulder until he reached your boob. You felt him press against your side, his hard cock against your side, to get a better angle for him to grope your tit. He pinched and rolled your nipple and you squirmed and writhed, trying so hard not to make any noise that you could feel tears gathering.

“I’ll have to see what we can do to set that up,” Minho mused. Distantly, you wondered if he was teasing you or if he were serious.

It didn’t matter to your imagination though, because now all you could imagine was your hands pressed against a tree while Changbin fucked you like he was doing now and you were free to make all the noises that you were desperately holding back.

“Pretty, are you crying?” Seungmin asked, concerned. You violently shook your head, negating the concern rather than denying the tears that finally started to drip from your eyes. “Ah,” he said, understanding. “Feels so good and you can’t make any noise, huh?” You nodded.

Changbin, still holding your hand, slid his hand around your hip and quickly found your clit. You kept your fingers attached to his hand, knowing he didn’t like for you to touch yourself with him, unless he could watch. His thumb rubbed quick, firm circles against your clit. “C’mon bunny. Just let go for me,” he leaned over you, pressing kisses to your back. Within just a few more strokes, your back arched, pressing your tits forward more over the railing, as you came around Bin’s cock. “Good bunny,” he praised, causing you to shiver as he chased his own high, building you up to another.

Changbin’s hips stilled and you felt his warm cum flood your insides. You locked your jaw against the whimper that wanted to come out as he pulled out of you.

Taking his place behind you, Seungmin rubbed a soothing hand over your back, letting you catch your breath for just a moment, before slamming into you. You clutched the railing, Seungmin having not restrained your hands at all. You had the brief thought to cover your mouth, but that was quickly dashed.

“Keep them right there, pretty girl, or I’ll stop.” You whimpered, purposely clenching around his cock as if to keep him in your body.

Behind you, Seungmin stilled. Before you could find your voice for a complaint, Changbin said, “Just a minute, bunny. Just let me get him ready.”

Your head dropped forward – you loved watching Changbin fuck Seungmin as he was usually rougher with the younger man than he was with you, because Seungmin liked it that way. You loved the way Seungmin’s eyes would roll back in his head as Changbin took complete charge of him, roughly moving him to whatever position the older man wanted, even wrapping his hand or arm around the younger man’s neck.

After just a couple minutes, you felt Seungmin press harder into you and heard the low moan that meant Changbin was pressing into him. You didn’t have to wait long for Bin to start thrusting into him, setting a brutal pace, and causing Minnie to fuck you at the same pace. You bit the inside of your lip, trying to keep your moans as quiet as possible, though you could still hear the muffled noises you made.

You didn’t have to look to be able to tell Bin had his hand wrapped around Minnie’s neck, providing just the right amount of pressure to make breathing difficult. You could hear it in the gasps coming from Seungmin. You felt like Bin’s hand was wrapped around your neck, dizzy with pleasure from being used by your boyfriends just the way you liked it.

“Doing okay, kitten?” Minho came to stand beside you, back to the railing. You did your best to nod, but it was difficult with the way Changbin’s thrusts were rocking you through Seungmin. “Good. So good to us, letting us have you whenever we want. However we want,” Minho smiled down at you, the gentle tone of voice and feel of his fingertips running over your shoulder and part way down your side completely at odds with everything else you were feeling.

His fingers skated down your back, wrapping around your hip until he pressed his first two fingers firmly against your clit. He didn’t move them at first, just keeping a firm pressure there while the rocking from Changbin’s thrusts provided a little motion. Then he started tapping on the bundle of nerves, timing it with Changbin’s thrusts.

Seungmin came first, dropping his head back against Changbin with a low groan as he came, adding his load to the one already in you. Changbin sped up, chasing his own high again and causing little whimpers of overstimulation to come from the man between the two of you. Minho focused on your clit, switching to rub little circles into the bundle of nerves until you came with a short scream, mostly muffled by your lips being tightly pressed together. Lost in your own orgasm, you missed when Changbin came but knew he had because he was still.

Carefully, Changbin tugged Seungmin back, pulling him out of you with a whimper from you both.

“C’mere,” Minho tugged you off the railing to face him and, still keeping you bent over, used his thumb to open your mouth and shove his cock in. After a few, deep thrusts, he was coming down your throat.

Exhausted, legs feeling like jelly, you dropped down onto one of the lounge chairs you kept on the balcony. You knew in a minute you’d have to get up for the usual aftercare routine of drink/food/bath, but right now you couldn’t be bothered to care about it.

~~ Stress Relief ~~

You’d had to go into the office for your once-a-month mandatory meeting. You hated those meetings, 99% of everything they talked about was either something you’d already handled via email, or could be handled via email. You were pretty sure it was your bosses way of controlling their staff.

After the meeting, you went straight to Chan and Jeongin’s apartment. You couldn’t remember for sure, without checking the calendar you all used, but you were pretty sure that one of them had a solo schedule today and the other didn’t. Hopefully, one of them would be there. If not, you’d post a nude into the group chat to get someone to come help relieve the aggravation caused by work.

Once in their apartment, the sounds you heard pulled you to Chan’s bedroom. You pushed open the door to see Chan on his back, Jisung bouncing on his cock. For just a minute, you stood and watched them – Chan clutching Ji’s hips, while Ji’s leaky cock bounced with every bounce of his hips.

“Mm, you look so good riding on him, Sungie,” you commented, strolling up to the bed as you shed your work clothes. Jisung’s rhythm faltered as he caught sight of you. “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” you reassured, ridding yourself of the last of your clothes then running a soothing hand down his spine.

Thanks to his anxiety, Jisung still occasionally had moments where he worried what you or one of the other guys thought when you walked in on him and someone else. Like now. At your reassurance though, he smiled and started rolling his hips faster. Chan groaned, tightening his hold on his hips before finding his voice and turning to you.

“Hey baby girl. Didn’t realize you were coming over.” Chan smiled up at you.

“Mm-hm. Had that stupid could’ve-been-an-email meeting today. Need some stress relief.”

“Happy to help, love. Come have a seat.” He winked, blowing you a kiss. He knew, as did the others, that stress relief mostly meant you wanted to be eaten out. Sometimes, if it was really stressful, you’d want to be fucked too. But a mouth on your pussy was the best stress relief for you.

You bent over him to kiss him quickly, before doing exactly as he asked. You climbed up onto the bed and straddled his face, facing Jisung, slowly lowering yourself until he got too impatient, grabbed your hips, and pulled you down onto his mouth. You and Jisung let out matching moans as he did.

“So it was a – oh – a shit day at work?” Ji asked.

“Oh God,” you moaned out as Chan fucked his tongue up into you. “Who cares?” You felt the rumble of Chan’s chuckle against you at your answer. You reached down, hands resting on Chan’s pecs as he continued to lap at you. On a harsh suck of your clit, your elbows gave out. You caught yourself before falling completely, but now found yourself face to tip with Jisung’s bouncing dick.

When you wrapped your lips around him, you were more than pleased to learn that every time he raised up on Chan’s dick, the movement pushed his own dick into your mouth. You shifted around to make yourself more comfortable, keeping your cunt pressed against Chan’s mouth while Jisung thrust into your mouth.

“Oh God,” he moaned, reaching down to tangle one hand in your hair and brace his other hand on Chan’s abs beside your head. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as he struggled to keep his rhythm. Chan obviously noticed as he planted his feet on the bed and started thrusting up into the younger man, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth at the same time. Jisung whined, tightening his hold on your hair.

You were so focused on watching Jisung come apart, that you were only vaguely aware of your own orgasm building. So it took you a little by surprise when you felt that coil snap and you bucked your hips against Chan’s mouth, moans muffled by Jisung’s cock. Watching you cum seemed to be just enough for Jisung who followed right behind you, some of his cum splashing on your lips and chin because of the way Chan was thrusting into him.

He tugged you up, off his softening cock and, while Chan kept thrusting up into him, licked his own cum off your lips and chin. Then he leaned in and captured your lips in a surprisingly sweet kiss that was interrupted when he moaned into your mouth as Chan came in him.

The three of you relaxed, shifting around to lay cuddled together, Jisung in the middle. “You okay, baby girl?”

You knew he was actually asking if you wanted or needed to cum again, but that had been the perfect amount of stress relief for you. “Mm, I’m good, love.” You stretched a little then wrapped your arms more firmly around Ji, who had his face buried against Chan’s chest.

After a while, the three of you got up, cleaned up, and went out to the kitchen to figure out what you wanted for dinner.

~~ Painting ~~

You wondered, briefly, if you’d ever be able to deny any of your boyfriends anything they asked. Seungmin had accused you of having all of them wrapped around your fingers, but you wondered if he realized that they all had you just as wrapped around theirs. Currently, Jeongin was sitting cross-legged on Hyunjin’s bed with you in his lap, on his cock, your nipple in his mouth, and your back slightly arched back, fingers tangled in Innie’s hair. Meanwhile, Hyunjin sat at his easel, sketching the two of you.

He’d asked you the day before to draw you. He’d done so several times now, each apartment having at least one nude portrait of you. They ranged from very classy, tasteful nudes, to you playing with yourself. But then you’d arrived at his and Changbin’s apartment to find Jeongin waiting for you as well and that was when Hyunjin said this portrait was going to be different than the others.

He wanted to do what he called an active painting. You weren’t sure if that was the proper term, or just the term Hyunjin used when he wanted to paint something that would normally be in motion. Like Felix jogging, you masturbating, or, in this case, you and Innie having sex. Now, normally this wouldn’t be a problem for you. You loved cock warming any of your boyfriends. But Jeongin was taking full advantage of the situation you were in to torment you.

You whimpered, wiggling your hips when he flicked his tongue over the nipple he had in his mouth.

“Princess, need you to hold still,” Hyunjin commented. You felt Innie smirk against you before schooling his expression back into the adoring look up at you Hyunjin had asked him for. You just knew the pair of them were tormenting you on purpose.

“You two suck,” you complained.

“Well, yes,” the ‘I-thought-that-was-obvious’ tone coupled with his smirk told you Hyunjin had decided to go for the innuendo rather than the actual complaint you made. You glared at him and his smirk widened to a grin.

For the next several minutes, Innie held still, not sucking on your nipple or licking it, or subtly rolling his hips, so you were able to relax. Or at least, relax as much as you could with the way Hyunjin had you arch your back.

Then Jeongin decided to ‘resettle’ himself which involved him shifting around and harshly thrusting up into you. Just one thrust, barely enough for any real stimulation. You whimpered again, this time getting your revenge by tugging on his hair that you held in your hand. Innie moaned then retaliated with a quick nip to your nipple.

“Do you two mind? I’m trying to create art here.”

“He started it!”

“Did not! I just needed to shift a little.”

“You didn’t! Or at least, you didn’t need to thrust into me when you did!”

“How was I supposed to not though?”

“You’re supposed to hold still so Hyune gets a good painting of us. Tell me you don’t want a painting of us, like this, in your bedroom?”

“It’s going in your room, actually, Princess.”

“Really?” Excited, you turned to look at Hyunjin.

“Stop wiggling,” Innie complained. You ignored him.

“Yep. Suppose I could get a print made for Innie’s room,” he looked at the sketch contemplatively. “And mine, for that matter. But this one is meant for you.” Then he looked back at the pair of you. “But in order to do any of that, I need you two to hold still.”

The pair of you resettled in the positions Hyunjin had asked you for. And this time you stayed there for a longer stretch of time than before.

Then you felt Innie’s hand, the one hidden from Hyunjin’s view, slowly sliding up your thigh. You subtly tightened your hold on his hair as a warning, that he fully ignored. Or took as encouragement, who knew with the way his mind worked. You tried to stay still as Jeongin ran his fingers along you pussy where you were stretched around him, gathering as much of your arousal as he could. But when he pressed those fingers to your clit, flicking in a quick up and down motion, you couldn’t hold back your moans. You pressed down more firmly into his lap and clenched around him.

You heard Hyunjin sigh and set down his pencil but barely registered that he’d stood up. He moved behind you to grab something else then sat back at his easel. “Jeongin, stop. Just for a minute.” Innie did as he was asked and you heard Hyunjin’s camera shutter click several times.

You turned and glared at him as he set his camera down. “What?”

“You could’ve done that before, Hyune!”

“Yeah, probably. But I wanted as much of it as possible to be… real. Capturing it from a camera isn’t the same.” Innie chuckled, the motion causing you to bounce slightly on his cock. Now that you didn’t need to hold still, you rocked your hips down into his lap. He quickly resumed his motions against your clit and copied those flicks with his tongue against your nipple.

Between your rocking, Innie’s hands and tongue, and how long you’d been sitting on his cock, you felt your orgasm building quickly. Then Hyunjin stepped up beside the two of you and claimed your mouth in a sloppy kiss. The tension in your belly snapped and Hyunjin swallowed your moans as you came on Jeongin’s cock.

Hyunjin pulled away from you so you could catch your breath. He ran his thumb over your cheek, then trailed his fingers down the side of your neck and over the side of your boob. Jeongin detached from your nipple and Hyune leaned in to claim his lips, tilting the younger man’s head and tangling his fingers with yours in his hair.

You moaned watching them, rocking your hips faster. You loved watching your boyfriends enjoy each other, especially this close up.

As Hyunjin pulled away, you saw him raise an eyebrow in silent question to Jeongin, who nodded. Hyune made quick work of unzipping and dropping his jeans and boxers, kicking them away, then tossed his shirt off to join them.

Innie dropped his jaw, tongue lolling out over his front teeth. You moaned as Hyunjin tapped the head of his cock on Innie’s tongue a couple times before guiding it into his mouth. Keeping his grip on your hand and therefore Jeongin’s hair, Hyunjin shallowly thrusted into the younger man’s mouth.

You’d been somewhat surprised, particularly with his initial mild reluctance with Chan, how much Jeongin enjoyed sucking cock. He enjoyed it as much as you did, moaning around whoever’s dick was in his mouth the whole time. You loved times like this, where he was sucking someone off while fucking you because it made his hips kick into you just a little more forcefully.

Hyunjin kept his one hand in Jeongin’s hair while the other snaked down to reach your tits and pinch, roll, flick, and generally tease one nipple then the other. Jeongin’s grip on your hips tightened in response to your moans at Hyunjin’s actions.

You leaned forward slightly, licking the side of Hyunjin’s cock where it disappeared between Innie’s lips. Innie whimpered when his grip forced you to speed up and you started clenching around him as a response.

“God, you two look gorgeous.” Hyunjin’s voice came out breathy. Very carefully, you gently bit Jeongin’s bottom lip, pulling another of his whimpers that you loved from deep in his throat. You soothed the bite, licking his lip, then turned your attention back to licking the part of Hyune’s cock that you could.

It wasn’t too much longer before you felt your orgasm starting to crest. You knew Jeongin was close too, with the way he was trying to thrust up into you but unable to get much purchase to do it as much as he wanted. You tossed your head back with a long moan, arching your back far enough that your boobs hit Jeongin’s cheek, as you felt the wave of your orgasm crash through you.

You stilled on Jeongin, still clenching rhythmically around him. That was enough to push him over the edge, Hyunjin following right behind him. As soon as Hyunjin pulled away, Jeongin turned to you and claimed your mouth in a sloppy kiss, pushing Hyune’s cum into your mouth which you greedily swallowed.

By the time Changbin got home from a writing session with Jisung and Chan, the three of you were curled together, asleep, in Hyunjin’s bed.

Several weeks later, Hyunjin presented you with the framed painting of you and Jeongin, as well as one of the final sketches. You decided to hang it in your living room for everyone to enjoy.

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Taglist: @skzficpriv @strayk1ds143 @vegetablesarefuntables  @imagine-all-the-imagines  @yeetmylifeu  @wolfo2027  @vampkennedy  @writhingwrecked  @xxeiraxx

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Part 2: It Is A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader,

POV: Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST

Word Count: 7.4K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. Cursing, Making Out, DEATH, Violence (only a little), Jealousy, Pining, Kinda Sad Vibes In Some Places, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). References to Future Sex. Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester (aka. being moody and super hot).

Listen While You Read: Jealous Again By The Black Crowes

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It was so fun to come back to this universe again! Thank you so much to everyone for all the love and support that you've gave me in writing the first part and thank you for all the encouragement to write a part 2! And also please don't forget to check out Stranded by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this fic!💗

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

"Can the two of you stop playing find my tonsils and tell me where the hell it is I'm supposed to be driving to?" Dean grouses from the driver's seat while Sam leans over a road map squinting to look at the small print.

"Ready For Love" is playing over the speakers, barely audible over the thud of fat raindrops pummeling the windshield, blocking out the world around you, and sending the shadows racing across your skin where Ben and you are sitting in the backseat.

“Well, if you’d given me a few hours to fuck her at the motel instead of throwing a bitch fit-" Ben begins to say, turning his gaze your face to stare at the back of Dean's head with a lazy smile.

“Dean why do you care?" You interrupt Ben with red cheeks. "I know for a fact worse things have happened in the backseat of your car than Ben and me making out."

"Really? Because I can’t think of anything worse that you and him sucking on each other's tongues and helping the spread of mono." Dean's hands tighten on the steering wheel and his shoulders tense.

He’s more wound up than a tinker toy.

It has been exactly thirty three minutes since Dean's mental breakdown back at the motel when Ben showed up. Furthermore, despite how much Dean had screamed at you at the motel, it appeared that he was still going to act like a two year old who wanted a cookie before dinner.

Sam's suggestion for the four of you to figure out why Ben was here had been a welcome distraction from Dean's spiral. It had prompted all of you to pile into Baby to try and find where it was that Ben landed in your universe and find a clue as to why.

But so far the trip had been less like riding in the Mystery Machine and more like riding with the Griswold's on their road trip to Wally World…

Dean had been supportive of trying to find a solution to what he deemed the "Ben problem," but it appeared that Dean was going to spend every waking minute getting on your nerves.

Honestly, what's new?

You didn’t understand why Dean was so damn argumentative whenever you showed up, it was like he lived to make your life as difficult as possible.

It had always been that way. Since the first day you met Sam and him at Ellen's bar forever ago, Dean had never once said something nice about you or to you.

He always found some little thing to nit pick, whether it be your aim, your research skills, or your technique when hunting and you were sick of it. Each time the two of you worked together, it was Sam's job to make sure it didn't end in bloodshed. Even Cas noticed Dean's underlying hostility towards you and when he asked Dean what was wrong, Dean had brushed him off with a "not now Cas."

Worse was the time that you got hurt (only a minor injury) on a hunt a few weeks ago when you got thrown into a glass cabinet while facing down a poltergeist. Dean had chewed you out for a good twenty minutes and even with Sam's ability to intervene, you'd broken Dean's nose for speaking to you like that, and then rushed off to your room in the bunker before he had a chance to see you cry.

It was the one thing that you never allowed yourself to do in front of Dean Winchester, cry. He didn't deserve your tears, especially not when he was being a total grade A asshole.

When Sam came in later to help you get patched up, you asked him why Dean hated you and Sam tried to convince you otherwise, but you knew the truth.

Dean Winchester hated you, and you had no idea why. So you decided to stop trying to make him like you, because if he was going to act like a total dick he didn't deserve you being nice to him.

You knew that was why you liked Ben more. Ben appreciated you (sort of), he wasn't mean, he listened to you (sometimes), and he did give you compliments… well, they all revolved around the way you looked and that was nice, but just you wanted someone to give you a compliment that had to do with something else. Or maybe just a simple "I see you."

Is that so hard to ask?

Your few flings in the past hadn't been anything special. You didn't have the kind of stable lifestyle that prompted or supported long serious relationships, especially with non-hunters. Not to mention you'd always had this fantasy about meeting another hunter who understood exactly what you went through and what you had gone through over the years. It was often difficult to find a non-hunter who could understand that.

The bunker was the first permanent address that you'd ever had. Your mother had been one of the best hunters in the US, known by all, and you never met your dad, which meant that growing up on the road was the only life you knew. She'd died a year before you started working with the Winchesters which meant that you didn't exactly have anyone that you cared about or anyone who cared about you.

The thought often brought the feeling of loneliness stirring in your chest, but you pushed it down, throwing everything you had into hunting.

Healthy right?

Ben's muscular arm is wrapped around your waist, his hand splayed over your lower back to keep you tight against his chest so there is no space between the two of you, while your hands locked at the back of his neck. You didn't usually like PDA that much, occasionally yes, but you'll admit that you were only allowing yourself to give in to Ben a little more, because you liked how much it annoyed Dean.

Yes, you thought that it was absolutely ridiculous how Dean was acting, but you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Because in all the years you'd known him, you’d never found one thing to hold over his head or one thing that really irritated him, and Ben was working like a charm.

It also felt really good to kiss him, but that was beside the point.

You understood that Dean was having a psychotic break with his constant proclamations that Ben "was him," but you wanted to at least understand why Dean was still hung up on it.

Ben isn't Dean. Sure they have the same face, but Ben is different… isn't he?

When you'd encountered Ben for the first time you had done a double take, but the more you were around him, the more you appreciated the way he treated you differently from Dean. Yes he was a little sexist, but Ben made you feel wanted and Dean had a way of making you feel stupid and often like a burden, as if you'd been plopped on his doorstep like a box of kittens and he was stuck with you.

There was only so much that you could take.

You didn't know what you'd done to earn such hostility. Dean was far from sexist, and you'd seen him interact with other people, it was just you he treated differently and it made you want to strangle him.

"Calm down kid-" Ben sighs.

"Stop calling me that!" Dean turns around to glare at the man next to you.

"Keep your eyes on the road." Sam says, not looking up from the map. He didn't need to.

"What a wonderful suggestion Sammy, but see I can't because I have no idea where the hell it is I'm going!" Dean snipes at his brother.

I swear at this point if Gabriel pops out of nowhere and tells me that this is all just a fucked up dream, I'd believe it.

"Stop being damn hormonal kid, and keep driving." Ben rolls his eyes and moves his lips to your throat, nipping and biting along the flesh visible over the top of your jacket, making you gasp softly and lean into Ben's warm embrace.

Your eyes meet Dean's in the rear view mirror and just for a second you see something flash through them that isn't anger, but it's gone just as soon as you clock it.

What was that?

Dean slams on the brakes and Ben tightens his grip on your body so you don't go flying forward into the bucket seat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snap, curiosity gone, as you glare at Dean.

The tension in the car is high, popping and crackling around the four of you like popcorn. You still couldn't understand why Dean had such a problem with Ben. If anything you'd think that they'd get along a little bit.

"I am not being hormonal or whatever other chauvinistic shit that is about to come out of your mouth." Dean snarls, ignoring you, as he turns and narrows his eyes at Ben. "And I am not your chauffeur. So tell me where the hell it is I'm going so you can get the fuck out of my car and out of my life!"

Ben opens his mouth to retort something, no doubt that'll trigger Dean, but you speak before he can.

"Ben, do you remember anything about where you came through?" You ask him. You were trying to be more diplomatic even though Dean was making your blood boil.

Just because Dean is mad at me does not mean that he gets to take it out on Ben. Ben hasn't done anything wrong. He got sucked into this reality and immediately got pulled into Dean's soap opera.

Ben huffs out a sigh as he turns back to look at you. His gaze softens a little as his eyes meet yours, turning from a dark green to a jade. "There was a building-"

"Oh wow, how helpful!" Dean snarks. "Did you hear that Sammy? There was a building! Mystery solved!"

Ben whips his head in Dean's direction, the air in the car growing hot as Ben's skin begins to heat, but you gently lay your hand on his cheek to bring his gaze back on you. "Dean is an asshole. We all know." You say to Ben, reassuring him and ignoring the look Dean gives you when you say it. "Do you remember anything about the building?"

Getting Ben angry wasn't the way to get information out of him, he was, after all, more like Dean than you were willing to admit. And just as you'd seen Dean get worked over by numerous women, including Bella, sweet talking worked the best.

Well, it never worked when you tried to do it, because Dean refused to treat you any way other than an annoyance.

But two could play that game, especially with the way that Dean was acting right now.

Ben's jaw tightens and you know that he's biting back some remark to throw Dean's way, but you pull him closer, trailing your hand over his bearded cheek to keep his attention and gently bring your lips to his. You feel the tension shift from Ben's shoulders beneath the palms of your hands as he relaxes into the kiss, and this time Ben smiles when you pull away, giving your hips an encouraging squeeze. "It was a school or some shit. And there was a billboard for "World's Biggest Beer Can.""

"Okay. We can work with that." Sam says giving you a sympathetic look before pulling out his phone to type something in.

At least Sam is being normal about this whole thing.

Sam and you always got along, from the start he was the older brother that you never had, and it was refreshing. Not to mention Sam was your best and probably only friend. The hunter life was lonely and you found it difficult to make friends anyway, but something about Sam always stuck. He got your abnormal sense of humor, he gave the best hugs, and he stood up for you when things got heated between Dean and you. It was his idea for you to move into the bunker with him and Dean, and also him that convinced Dean to let you move in.

It had taken days for Dean to finally say yes. And when he did, he made you move into the bedroom next to his as if he wanted to keep an eye on you because he didn't trust you.

And as much as you hated living with Dean, living with Sam made up for it. You liked helping him research while Dean bitched and moaned about reading through dusty volumes, liked helping him clean up while Dean followed behind you as if you couldn't be trusted, liked helping Sam try to make dinner that ended up more burned than anything else until Dean stepped in and shooed the both of you from the kitchen so he could make something, and liked kicking back on the couch watching movies with Sam while eating copious amounts of popcorn.

Unfortunately, Dean didn't get the hint that you wanted him to leave you alone so he'd follow Sam and you, crack open a beer, and proceed to give a personal commentary on the movie the two of you were watching, occasionally throwing a look in your direction as if he was checking that you were listening to him. Weirder still was the fact that Dean would do that when Sam wasn't with you.

You noticed that sometimes, that no matter where you were in the bunker, Dean just happened to find himself in the same room. But that didn't mean he would speak, sometimes he would just be cleaning one of his guns or quietly reading through a dusty volume or writing something down in a notebook, but you swore sometimes you thought that Dean was looking at you. Each time you looked up though, he was looking down at whatever else it was he was doing.

It was those moments that made you think that things could be civil between the two of you, and then he'd get on your case for doing something he deemed "wrong" when you knew you did it right the first time as if you hadn't been a hunter as long as he had.

He probably does that because he doesn't trust me.

Dean grumbles something under his breath and turns his gaze back out the windshield, watching the wiper blades go back and forth over the glass, crossing his arms over his chest. Ben frowns and you know that he must have been able to hear whatever it was Dean said.

Why can't we all just get along for five minutes? Is that too much to ask?

"Alright I've got something." Sam says ending the uncomfortable silence in the car. "The World's Biggest Beer Can is in Northwood about ten miles ahead of us."

"Finally. At least someone is pulling their weight." Dean states before he hits the gas, the force throws you backwards into the seat.

Your gaze flicks up to the rearview mirror and notice that Dean is watching you again, but you turn away to Ben who smiles wide and pulls you back towards him for a kiss.

But deep down you can't help but wonder if Dean had been watching the two of you in his rearview mirror the whole time and why he cared so much.

The building that Ben remembers is in fact, an abandoned school.

The roof sags inward allowing rainwater to pool in the front lobby over black and white checkered tiles, the lockers are rusted and thrown to the floor at odd angles making you worry about the possibility of tetanus, and there is an ungodly stench that you can only describe as old gym socks, axe body spray, and unwashed feet.

Ben's nose wrinkles where he stands beside you, and you're sure that no matter what your sense of smell is experiencing it's a million times worse for him.

You press your lips into a tight line, toeing around a puddle of something gray and sticky that you can't identify, but know for a fact you don't want it in your shoes. Your eyes squint into the looming darkness that grows the more you stare down the forgotten hallways.

It’s always gotta be an old creepy building. Just once I want to get to investigate a donut shop or a burger joint or a Starbucks.

"Any of this looking familiar Captain Sexual Harassment?" Dean asks turning with his flashlight to point in Ben's face.

Ben shrugs and squints at the offending light. "I don’t fucking know."

"Enlightening." Dean huffs out a breath. "Well, guess we can split up and-"

Thank God I won't have to listen to Dean mutter things under his breath and freak out.

"Fine." You interrupt. "Come on Ben." You start to walk down one of the dark hallways, but Dean slides in front of you to block your path.

"No way. You're not going with him." Dean waves his flashlight in Ben's face again and you can see the twitch on the corner of Dean's mouth to see how much he enjoys blinding him.

Why does he always have to act like such a child?

"Why?" You demand.

"Because as soon as Sam and I get out the picture, Grandpa over there is going to pull you aside and fuck you in one of the classrooms." Dean says it without blinking, but it makes you flush red in embarrassment and anger.

"No, he's not!"

"Yes, he is!"

Dean is so close that you can feel his warm breath on your face. His eyes are narrowed in anger, but you can see another emotion flick through them so quickly you think you imagined it. It was the same emotion that you thought you saw in the car, but you can't identify it, not yet.

Ben's hand comes down on Dean's shoulder, a wide smirk on his face. "Look kid, I get it. She's fucking hot and I know you think I'm trying to horn in on your action-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean exclaims shaking off Ben's hand.

"You're jealous because she decided to be with a real man instead of you." Ben shrugs. His gaze travels up and down Dean as if appraising him before he shakes his head with a chuckle. "I can't blame her. Someone like you couldn't handle her.

"I could handle her just fine!" Dean snaps back his face flushing as he forces his chest against Ben's, who only smirks back.

What did he just say?

Your entire body goes stick straight in surprise and you turn your head to stare at Dean. In all the years that you'd known Dean he's never once said something like that to you.

Sure there was the night you met…

You hadn't thought about it in years. You'd been back in town because Bobby had called asking you to help out some friends of his on a case and you'd stopped in to Ellen's bar to see Jo. Dean had come on to you and you'd splashed a beer in his face and also maybe pinned him down against the bar. It had been awkward the next day when you found out that Dean and Sam were the friends that Bobby wanted you to help out, but you pushed past all the weird feelings to help.

Dean had flirted with you that night and you will admit to yourself that you thought Dean was attractive before he opened his mouth, but since that night the two of you hadn't spoken about it. In fact, you were both perfectly happy pretending that it didn't happen.

Or so you thought.

Dean's dark green eyes flick to yours in realization. "That's not what I meant."

"Sure kid." Ben's smirk grows to Cheshire Cat proportions.

"Stop calling me that!"

The weird thing was, you'd seen Dean lose his temper, it always flared fast and hot broken up with sarcastic comments, but for some reason this felt different and you didn't understand why. It didn't feel like Dean just getting angry because Ben was getting under his skin, it felt like something else.

"Whoa!" You get between the two of them for the second time in an hour. "If you guys keep fighting like this I'm going to put you both in time out!"

"He started it!" Dean glares at Ben, who doesn't look the least bit upset.

"I don’t care who started it! You're grown men and you're still acting like toddlers. I shouldn't have to separate you." You snap waving around your flashlight at Dean.

"How about this?" Sam sighs from where he stands a few feet away. "I'll go with Ben and the two of you can try not to shoot each other."

"Why can't I go with you?" You sigh to your friend.

"You want to leave them together? Alone?" Sam raises his eyebrow.

Not really.

Sam takes your silence rightfully as confirmation, because the both of you knew if you left Dean and Ben together it would probably be a Thunderdome situation or a reenactment of the WWE.

"Maybe we shouldn't split up." Dean says looking at his brother.

"You scared kid?" Ben smirks. " No wonder she decided to fuck me instead of you. You’re acting like a little bitch."

"You son of a bitch-" Dean finally snaps and launches himself towards Ben, but your hand fists in the back of Dean's leather jacket to stop him from starting a fight that you know he won't win.

It wasn't that you thought Ben was a better fighter than Dean, it was that Ben had super strength and would have no qualms ripping Dean in half. And despite how much Dean annoyed you, you didn't want him to die. Sure he was a jerk, but he didn't deserve that after everything he'd been through, and Sam didn't need to bear witness to that.

"Fine." You say. "Ben please go with Sam."

Ben rolls his eyes and follows after Sam, leaving Dean and you standing in the lobby alone, the only sound the soft plop of water echoing down the empty hallway.

Great. Now I'm stuck with Dean in a creepy old building. It's a dream come true. The stuff of Disney movies.

"Why did you do that?" Dean snaps at you when Ben and Sam turn a corner out of sight.

"You should be thanking me! Ben would rip you in half without batting an eye!" You turn back towards the empty hallway and try to put as much distance as you can between Dean and you.

Distance is good, nice. It means that I can only partly hear his disapproval.

"You don't know that." Dean catches up with you, sweeping the path in front of you with his flashlight looking for holes in the floor.

"Yes, I do. I've seen him do it before."

By now you were aware that there was a chill in the air, it was unnatural, creeping down the hallway in a thin mist that made a shiver crawl down your spine. Dean must sense it too, because he pulls his gun at the same time you do.

That or he's doing it because he's about to go Rambo on Ben's ass.

Because that'll end well…

"If he rips people in half why do you like him so much?"

“He’s not a bad person if that’s what you’re getting at. Ben did it to save me.” You point your flashlight into one of the classrooms along the hallway noting the rotted desks tipped over onto the checkered floor. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Ben's world was filled with more than a few crazed individuals, and when you'd been in his universe Ben had stepped in when a supe threw themselves at you. Truthfully, even though Ben did what he did to protect you, watching him pull someone apart with his bare hands made you sick to your stomach. Given what you'd seen, that was saying something. But you knew that Ben wouldn't hurt you, he wasn't that kind of man, and you weren't afraid of him.

“You’ve known him for five days! How can you tell after five days?!” Dean nudges a cardboard box with his boot sending a family of cockroaches scuttling into the shadows.

"Because I can!" Your lip curves up in distaste at the appearance of the roaches and try not to imagine all the walls infested with the little bugs.

You didn't like roaches. Especially ones that all of a sudden developed the ability to fly in your presence as if it were a miracle.

The two of you continue to walk down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps masking the constant dripping noise that comes from the floor above.

Your temper was flaring all over again. You didn't think that you needed to explain any of this to him. Dean never felt the need to discuss his extensive history with women with you and you didn't feel the need to discuss the ins and outs of your and Ben's situation.

"Come on-" He begins to say, but you don't want to hear it.

"Dammit Dean just fucking drop it." You throw your shoulder against a door at the end of the hallway, putting everything you have into it and a little more. You were getting frustrated at Dean's continuous commentary on your life. "I don’t want to talk about this anymore or listen to any of the ridiculous reasons why you think that it's any of your business who I sleep with."

“I think it is my business because you were about to reenact the scene from Titanic in the back of my car!”

“Oh please. I’m sure that you’ve reenacted it billions of times back there. Mr. Saturday Night!” You roll your eyes hitting the door again with your shoulder.

“It’s my car!" Dean shouts, moving you out of the way in a surprisingly gentle way, before he savagely kicks down the door. "I can do whatever I damn well please!”

I wonder if Sam and Ben are having a better time than us. It wouldn't be difficult to.

The door opens with a snap under the force of Dean's kick depositing Dean and you into a large auditorium. The seats are a faded gray and the curtains that hang from the sides of the stage, once blood red, were more of a muddled pink stained with splotches of dark spots and filled with holes the size of the Impala.

Crawling vines and ferns have begun to tangle over the empty seats and over the floors, absorbing anything in their path. The wooden stage is dilapidated and caving in on itself, the boards jutting upwards instead of laying flat as they should in some places from years of water damage. The carpet beneath your feet is squishy and moth eaten, and each step sends another cloud of dust into the air making the room hazy and you cough into your elbow.

"Not to mention he's me!" Dean continues, tramping into the room behind you.

"How many times are you going to say that?" You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying your best to keep it together.

"As many times as I have to, to get the point into your thick skull!"

You whirl around and poke your finger into his chest. "You know what Winchester? You can take all your opinions and shove them right up your uptight ass!"

"The two of you don't get along at all. Odd given how you seem to get along with my fiancé." A bored voice says from somewhere behind you. "But it is a lot more entertaining than I thought it was going to be."

Dean and you both lock eyes and turn to look in the direction of the voice, but there's no one there.

"Um, did you hear-" Dean begins to ask.

"Yes I did." You reply clicking the safety off your pistol.

"Just checking."

"Though I will say, with the way today is going for you and if this is you having a psychotic break, I wouldn't be surprised that you're having auditory hallucinations."

"Shut up." Dean sighs.

"Hello?" You shout, looking around the empty auditorium for some answer, but it remains empty.

Dean snorts. "Now who's craz-"

"Hello?" The voice mocks in a nasally voice. "Wow you're pathetic. I don't understand what he sees in you."

"You call me pathetic, but you're the one hiding. So why don't you come out?" A chair from the front row plucks itself off the ground and hurls itself at your head. You duck and it sails into the aisle behind Dean and you.

"You're not even that pretty." The voice continues and you can imagine a pout on the end of its words like a petulant child who wishes to get their way.

This is so fucking weird.

"Thanks." You reply dryly. "I like to think I've got a great personality."

"You don't." Dean mutters, making you throw an elbow into his side.

A high pitched giggle echoes through the space making it impossible to identify where it came from, until finally a woman materializes on the stage. You blink your eyes to make sure that she's really there.

Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders in perfect ringlets, and she's wearing a bright pink fur trimmed dressing gown. The kind you'd see on an eccentric billionaire's trophy wife who spent most of her day drinking gin martinis poolside while being fanned by cabana boys or the kind that she'd be wearing when she heard of her husband's "untimely demise." There's a silver diamond crown perched on top of her head and she's smoking a cigarette from a long white cigarette holder, while she lounges back on a golden throne.

What. The. Fuck.

"Do you see her too?" You whisper to Dean out of the corner of your mouth.

"You mean Glinda the Good Witch the later years? Yeah I can." Dean replies looking just as confused as you do. "You thinking Gabriel?"

"I thought he was dead."

"He's pretended to be dead before." He shrugs.

"Fair enough. Any reason why he's making us see her?"

"Maybe your new boyfriend has a fetish."

"Hasn't anyone told you that it's rude to whisper?" The woman says, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"Sorry. Um. Who are you?" You ask.

"I don't speak to homewreckers." Her face contorts into a sneer. You watch her eyes shift from Dean to you. "But I'll answer for your friend. I'm Iris, Benjamin's Fiancé."

If pigs could fly right now an entire fleet of them would be taking flight around you. You tried to wrack your brain remembering a single time that Ben said that he had a fiancé or was in a relationship at all, and you can't find a single moment.

Well… today officially sucks.

"Wow. Nice." Dean looks at you with a scoff. "Real nice."

"Hey woah, I didn't know he had a fiancé." You hold up your free hand in surrender. "He never said anything about a-"

"Hey gorgeous. Did you find anything?" Ben says materializing behind Dean.

"You're engaged?" You shout.

"No?" Ben looks confused. "Who told you that?"

You point a thumb over your shoulder to Iris, who is still lounging on the stage completely in her element. She giggles and wiggles her fingers in a cute wave.

"Hey Benny Wenny, did you miss me?" Her lips curl up in a wide smile when she rises from the throne, her bright blue eyes crinkling around the edges. The air around her seems to sparkle, sending scattered light out into the broken seats.

Ben is still staring up at the woman, looking utterly confused.

"You know that freak?" Dean whispers to Ben who is now standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

"Fuck no."

"Well, congratulations Benny Wenny." Dean snorts. "Guess you're getting married."

"I am not-"

"And don't worry, of course I'll be your best man." Dean continues, holding back laughter.

"Shut the fuck up kid!" Ben snaps at Dean, before turning back to the woman on the stage. "Look baby, I don't know who you are but-" Ben begins to say to the woman, who only laughs.

She throws back her head, golden curls bouncing with the force of her body moving, laughing for an unnatural amount of time before she locks her blue eyes on Ben again.

“Stop being silly. We met a few months ago at Legend’s party. We had a few drinks and then you came back to my apartment where we made love for hours-“ Her cheeks blush. “It was sooooo romantic. What I always dreamed about!”

“Um-“

“My parents are so excited to meet you and my little sister said that she’s so happy to have a big brother!” She giggles. “I even made us matching t-shirts to wear on our honeymoon and a scrap book of our children!" She holds up a magenta colored bedazzled photo album that’s the size of a medium sized dog.

Wow she put a lot of work into that.

“Children?” Ben stutters, his voice cracking on the end a little bit. It's the first time that you've ever seen him look afraid.

“What they’ll look like, where we’ll vacation each year, where we'll live, where you'll work-” Her expression turns sour, eyes flashing a dark pink as she glares in your direction. “But then you met that little whore who took you away from me and poisoned your mind.” She points a perfectly manicured pink nail at you. “So I decided to bring you here so you could help me kill her.”

“I’m sorry rewind-“ You say holding up a hand. “You brought Ben here? How?"

"I found a website while I was looking at destination weddings." She shrugs.

"There are websites about traveling through different universes that show up in the search engine-" Dean begins to say.

"DON'T QUESTION ME!" The girl shrieks and the entire room begins to shake.

"And you wanted Ben to be here because?" You haven’t lowered your gun. Frankly you had no idea what her powers were. She looked more like she would start tap dancing down the yellow brick road rather than start hurling chunks of the stage at you, but you needed a plan.

“Because we’ll get to share this moment together.” Iris sighs looking over at Ben again, who is just as shell-shocked as he was a moment ago.

“Killing me?”

Iris nods enthusiastically. “We'll make love on top of your dead body and no one will come between us ever again!” 

Dean snorts under his breath and you elbow him again, trying not to think of the image.

Please let this be Gabriel messing around with me. Because if it's not my life is officially a joke.

The three of you stand there for a minute looking up at where she prances on the stage in mixed stages of disbelief.

And just as Iris takes a step forward, a sandbag falls on her head. She crumples to the floor like a sack of potatoes as Sam appears in the wings of the stage looking from her to where the three of you are watching.

"You guys okay?" He calls.

"Yeah." Ben shrugs. "Too bad about her though. She was hot."

He's kidding right?

"The crazies always are." Dean adds with a sigh, patting him on the back.

"I'm so happy the two of you are having this bonding moment, truly I am, but-" You begin to say, turning your back to the stage, but as soon as you do Sam goes flying across the room and into one of the fern plants.

"That was so uncool!" Iris squeals, hovering over the stage, her hands glowing an unnatural magenta color. "Ben and I are meant to be together, we're soulmates, perfect, fated, destined, and no one is going to stand in my way."

The entire room begins to tremble with the force of her anger, dust floats down from the ceiling as it begins to crack and crumble under her powers. You can feel the warmth of Ben's skin as he begins to power up the beam in his chest, burning through the air like a supernova.

There's a crackling sound that comes from above and you look up to see a giant piece of the ceiling falling in slow motion towards your body. Dean shouts your name, but he sounds far away, the sound ringing through the few seconds that you still have left before it crushes you.

But the hit doesn't come from above, it comes from the side.

Dean tackles you, just as the piano sized piece hits the ground where you had been standing a second ago, to the ground, cradling your head in his hands. Your bodies tumble into the moth eaten carpets as Ben explodes, the heat and power of the beam causing more of the room to fall around the two of you.

There's a terrible high pitched wail that's cut off abruptly mid scream and you don't need to be a genius to know what or rather who it was.

Dean covers your body with his and your hands come up under his arms to hold him tighter to you. You bury your face into the warmth of his coat where his throat and his shoulder meet with a whimper as everything around the two of you shudders and shakes. He doesn't pull away, his muscles tensing as he tightens his grip around you, his own face buried in your hair.

The room continues to shake and fall apart in the aftermath of the blast, dust and ash rising in clouds. But you can’t see any of it, Dean's body is shielding you from the room as it crumbles around the two of you, tucking you further beneath him the longer it goes on, making it impossible for anyone or anything to hurt you.

You could feel something curling in the pit of your stomach the longer you laid there under him, an odd feeling that you'd tried to push down whenever you were around Dean, a warmth that begins to spread like wildfire through your body everywhere the two of you are touching. His body is warm and heavy, but it's not oppressive, it lays over you protective and unyielding in the wake of the destruction.

The smell of him invades your senses, a mix of gunmetal, leather, and a spicy scent that tickled your nose. You'd smelled Dean's shampoo before, when it wafted out of the bathroom as you walked down the hallway, imprinting itself in your mind. It was how the impala smelled, always like Dean, and with it brought a feeling of comfort that you'd never known before.

It was odd.

"Are you okay?" Dean whispers, and you can feel the rumble of his words through his chest where it's touching you, his hips laying in the cradle of your thighs. He pulls back to look at your face, the rough grate of his stubble catching your chin as he does so. His eyes are wide with worry and it's the first time that you'd ever seen him look at you that way.

Dust and ash caught in his hair in graying clumps, sticking to the shortened brownish gold strands, the ones that were just a little shorter than Ben's. You longed to run your fingers through, to feel if it was as soft as it looked.

"I think so." You murmur, not used to the weight of his body on top of yours, but you're also trying not to notice how a part of you liked it. "Are you okay?" Your fingertips trail against the smooth leather of his jacket, working up to the back of his head, feeling just the subtle brush of the hair at the nape of his neck.

You don't miss the soft sigh that rushes out of Dean's chest when you do that, fueling the fire that was spreading in the pit of your stomach.

What is happening?

"Yeah." Dean's fingers brush your hair from your face, so quickly that you think you missed it, but the burn of his skin over your cheeks is the only reminder. You gasp softly with the movement, confused as to why Dean was acting this way, why he was worried about you, and why you liked it. Your arms are still wrapped around his body, fingers curled into the back of his leather jacket, but Dean makes no move to get up, he continues to look at you.

You'd never seen Dean look at you like that, look at you as if he wished to understand you, as if he saw you. No one had ever looked at you that way in your entire life.

"Dean!" You hear Sam yell from somewhere, followed by your own name.

It jolts Dean out of wherever his mind is and he gets off of you, but he helps you to your feet, one of his warm calloused hands taking yours to pull you up before dropping it as if he didn't do it in the first place.

The room is destroyed. The roof has completely caved in allowing the rain to soak through the remaining seats of the auditorium and into the musty carpets. The stage no longer exists, all that remains is a black blob of what you're sure used to be Iris, and although a part of you feels bad about the turn of events, you can't help but feel a little relieved.

She was going to kill me. You think to avoid the wave of guilt that washes over you.

"Ding dong the witch is dead." Dean mutters under his breath, but it doesn't make you feel better.

Fires burn over the edges of the stage, small and controlled, but sending rivulets of smoke into the air. You knew it meant that the fire department would be here any minute and that's the last thing you wanted to explain. That and the body on the stage.

Ben stumbles to his feet a few steps away from Dean and you, pushing off a piece of roofing that must have landed on top of him. His suit is covered in dust and drywall, but he looks okay. He's got that far-away look in his eye he always does after he uses his power.

You step towards him to make sure he's okay, but Dean stands in your way.

"Are you out of your mind?" Dean snarls at Ben.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Ben snaps.

"You almost killed us! Almost killed her!" Dean gestures towards you.

"I fixed the problem." Ben rolls his eyes and glances to you, as if trying to reassure himself that you're okay. You knew that Ben might have wanted to only have a physical relationship with you, but you knew that he did care about you in his own way. "You okay sweetheart?" He pushes past Dean, gently touching your face, tilting it up to his. "Did you hit your head?"

"No. I'm okay." You smile tightly at him, but a part of you can still feel the ghost of Dean's fingertips trailing against your cheeks to push away your hair and feel the weight of his body over yours. "Are you okay?" You ask, noting the way his eyes still are a little unfocused.

"Course I am." Ben scoffs. "Takes a little more than a building to bring me down doll."

You nod, while Ben's hand still continues to rest on your chin, and just as he leans down for a kiss, you see Dean's face in the corner of your eye and finally you're able to identify the emotion reflected in his gaze. It's the same emotion that you saw in the car when he stared at you in the rearview mirror. It's the first time that you've ever seen Dean look at you that way in all the years you'd known him.

It's hurt that flashes behind the green eyes you knew so well, shifting to jealousy on around the darkened edges the longer he looks at Ben and you.

And when Ben's lips touch yours, you feel guilt begin to creep along your skin and extinguish the sparks you'd felt moments ago in the pit of your stomach.

A/N: I'm not going to lie, I did not mean for this part to be a little sad... but oh my word 😭 BUT I also promise that the next chapter will have a happy ending ❤️

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