#but now i know for sure that i will skip it

[promiscuousg1rl]

how not to — rafe cameron

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: you and rafe are over, you've been over. and although he was the one who chose to end your relationship, he's also the one who can't seem to leave you alone and let the relationship go.

note: this is based off the song how not to by dan & shay!

You should be used to seeing him by now. Wheezie has been taking ballet classes at this studio for almost a year now and you are one of her instructors after all.

But for the last two months she was always coming in with her older brother in tow instead of her parents, claiming that Rafe had gotten stuck standing in as "dance brother" because they couldn't make it.

You believed it at first. You knew Mr. and Mrs. Cameron were busy people and work related responsibilities came up a lot. However when Wheezie got into her talkative moods and expressed how glad she was that Rafe offered to be her permanent chauffeur, you became skeptical.

Now you knew Rafe loved his little sister to pieces but if there was one thing he was never willing to do? It was sitting up at a dance studio surrounded by a bunch of middle-aged women bragging about theirs daughter's grand jeté being better than everyone else's.

And yet here he is, walking Wheezie in with a smile so big it made the skin around his eyes crinkle.

"Hey y/n!" Wheezie wears an identical smile to Rafe's, fully prepared for class in her light pink leotard and tights.

You stand up from the receptionist desk. "Hi wheezie," you reply. "Today we're going to be in studio B, go ahead and put your things in your locker."

She gives you an eager nod before skipping past you and to the back.

As soon as she's out of your line of sight you sit back down and do your best to make yourself look busy. A part of you hopes he'll choose to leave but as he continues to stare down at you from the other side of the desk, you know its wishful thinking.

"So," he says with that usual drawl to his voice. "How've you been?"

You still before slowly glancing up at him. You despise how good he looks in his backwards-facing baseball hat and Carolina blue UNC t-shirt. Did he somehow get beefier in the last few weeks?

"Uh, I've been good Rafe," you mutter. "How about you?"

Propping his arms atop of the counter, large biceps bulging beneath the hem of his short sleeves, he shrugs. " 'Been hanging in there."

You nod.

It was bizarre to think about how much a break up can change things. This was someone whose ear you used to talk off 24/7. He was a best friend to you before a lover and the one person you told everything to. That was all over now; you're nothing more than two strangers engaging in a boring conversation.

As much is it hurt you, you had to remember that it was his doing. It was his decision to end things with you after two years together.

"I must've missed you at Sarah's party the other night."

You wonder if he actually thinks this whole naive facade will work on you. Especially since you're more than sure that he was fully aware that you declined Sarah's invitation and why you declined it in the first place.

It was him; the reason why you refuse to step foot on Tannyhill. Even when Rose begged you to give Wheezie private lessons on the estate, you politely said no. You just couldn't do it. It was hard enough living in the same town and trying to avoid him; and the only reason you were able to was because of your differing tax brackets.

You were a pogue and after the break up you couldn't help but thank your lucky stars that you resided on the Cut.

Work was also something you looked forward to because him dropping off and picking up Wheezie was rare.

Or at least, it used to be.

"No you didn't," you give him a blank stare. "I didn't go."

"Because of me?"

You sigh. "Rafe..."

You rise from your seat and go to make your way towards the studios. The sight of you leaving practically sends him into a panic, he rounds the desk and softly grabs your sweater-covered wrist in his hand.

"Look you don't have to do that okay?" His face is pinched with guilt. "You don't have to avoid me o-or stop hanging out with my sister because—"

Your scoffs cuts him off and he furrows his brows in confusion.

That expression alone has your skin getting hot. Is he serious?

"Did you not tell me, verbatim, to "get the hell out of your life" and that you were tired of being smothered by me? Are those not the words that came out of your mouth?"

Rafe combs a hand through his hair. "I...yes okay I said some shitty things but it was just that, bullshit. I didn't mean any of it, alright?"

You glare up at him, yanking your arm from his grasp. "And here we go with the excuses."

"It's not an excuse, y/n. I was fucked up because of all that shit going on with the guys, I took it out on you—"

"Like always," You shake your head. "You let them get into your head, and like always, I became collateral damage. It was fuck my feelings as long as," you take a quick glance around, bringing your voice down to a whisper. "Topper and Kelce gave you the validation you were looking for."

Rafe looks down in shame, swallowing hard.

You thought he was past that stage in his life, caring what people thought of him and your relationship. Apparently you were wrong.

"I just don't get it," you feel stupid as tears well up in your eyes. "If I wasn't good enough for you to choose me, then why can't you just leave me alone?"

“I made a mistake yn,” Rafe shuffles in place, working up the courage to meet your eyes again. He regrets it as soon as he takes in the tears in yours eyes. He hates himself for making you cry, it makes him think of the promise he broke. The one where he said he’d never hurt you and couldn’t imagine ever doing so. But he was a destructive bastard who was only capable of breaking things; hurting those closest to him. It was in his nature.

And yet, despite being fully aware of who he was and everything he was capable of, he couldn’t find it in himself to let you go. Not when he still thinks about every minute of everyday. Yeah it was contradicting; he made his choice and he should be the one who’s strong enough to walk away and move on. However the thought of you no longer being in his life terrifies him more than anything else.

 “I just wanna fix it.”

“You can’t,” You say, turning away from him. “So please, let this go. Let me go.”

[guksfairy]

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹LATE NIGHT KOO 23:29 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

in which Jungkook tells you about a thing he used to do as a kid

notes: I learned abt this bc my bias talked abt it once and I’ve not stopped thinking abt it lol

Enjoy !

wc: 598

The tv displays funny acts of the yellow sponge and his pink star friend as you and Jungkook laughed every now and then at their shenanigans. It was a Friday night and neither one of you felt like going out with your friends so you packed an overnight bag and headed to your boyfriend’s house for a nice evening.

Jungkook, earlier in the day, had bought a ton of different ramen packs that he thought you’d both enjoy. You had scolded him saying that it was a waste of money and in return he replied I’m not wasting if I’m spending it on you.

“Love can you get the water,” Jungkook yells from the living room, lowering the volume for dinner.

You turn around to the boiling water and…you’re not sure why you did it. Or how it happened.

You’re not dense. You know that the handle of a pot can be hot when there’s boiling water inside of it.

Yet you completely skip over the oven mitt Jungkook left beside it and went directly to grab the handle, burning yourself in the process.

“Ow!” in an instant, Jungkook is back inside the kitchen watching you flick your hand back and forth as a reaction to the heat.

“Touch your ears!”

“What?” you stare at your boyfriend when he simply repeats it again.

“Touch your ears,” this time he’s calm and walking towards you as you do as he says. Your hand doesn’t burn as much as it did a moment ago but you still grab both of your ears gently, rubbing the skin.

Jungkook walks past you and takes the oven mitt to remove the pot from the stove. He places it on the trivet and turns back to you, who is still doing the same action.

He internally coos at you and moves your hands back down.

“Are you okay?” you nod and his worry is put at ease, “You don’t need any ice?” You shake your head.

“Why’d you tell me to touch my ears?” You giggle at his funny request.

“What?”

“Just now, when you told me to touch my ears,” you recall.

“Oh it’s what my mom used to tell me when I was a kid. If I burned myself I should touch my ears,” your eyebrows furrow and he continues.

“Yeah apparently your ears are usually the coolest part of your body, so when you burn yourself you’re supposed to touch your ears to dissipate the heat,” he explains pouring the boiling water into the cup of noodles.

“Is that true?” you ask in awe. You’ve never personally heard of this in your lifetime.

“Probably not? But as a kid, I believed and trusted my mom and, maybe it was a placebo effect, but it always comforted me,” he says and you verbally coo.

“You’re so cute,” you pinch his cheek and he smiles with a playful eye roll as he removes your hand.

“Yeah yeah,”

“Are you gonna teach that to our kid when they’re growing up?” you ask without thinking. The flush in Jungkook’s cheeks visible and only then did you realize the topic you brought up.

“Our kid?” He shyly repeats.

“Yeah…our kid,” you state and he sniffles a small laugh, leaning forward to engulf your body in a warm hug.

“Sure, I’ll teach them the same,” he says and you giggle thinking about Jungkook telling your son or daughter to touch their ears like he did just now.

[currentfandomkick]

Danny melted into his partners’ hold.

“Just, fuck, how do you go up to your brother who definitely thinks you’re dead, you last remember him when you were five and ancients it was way before i knew that transmen existed, let alone that i am one!”

Tucker hummed at his side. “Do you want us to call Jazz to get advice from the licensed professional?”

“Or just dodge the fruitloop? There has yet to be a rich bitch that doesn’t hate you on sight or try to new and inventive ways to kill you.”

—

Tim paused as the static interference let up.

“—yet to be a rich bitch that doesn’t hate you on sight or try new and inventive ways to kill you.”

“You’re not wrong, but���Fuck no, revenant no, put the pretty shiny down and—you got me goldfish.”

“Atleast dead dudes like you.”

“Still not sure who in the realms i should send them too—that ecto cannot be healthy baby bird, come here—or joining the crush Danny game.”

Dick narrowed his eyes at Tim’s device.

“How did you—“

“So. Danny lives with someone from R&D who must be lying about making ecto-powered bodysuits as a kid from scrap metal… and i may have left a few bugs at his place. They’re usually jammed.”

“Buddy, i love you too but besides my crisis, we do have my baby-baby coming soon—she’s visiting for a few nights. Testing how stable she is outside the realms but around me. And i have another paper for astonomy on angles. Fuck!”

Dick and Tim paused.

Danny’s medical history was put under both’s hacking. Sealed records showed a distinct F marker that his later records had scrubbed somehow.

And signs of a possible pregnancy during his freshman year with constant trips to the bathroom, chronic fatigue, sudden shifts in weight and a series of absences that coincided with a number of missing lab days, skipped home-economics, and notes from teachers of Danny having ‘gotten a pass to stay with the nurse for severe cramping and early signs of swelling in chest area and feet.’

Medusa pin. Absences in a year plus the symptoms above.

Danny was a survivor and teen parent. Notably the child was not with him—foster care? Forced surrender of child but able to reclaim?

Tim began digging.

Dick paused at a picture of Danny, age seven. Attached to it was a report of a “Jane Doe” found wandering 16 months prior. A then five year old Danny.

Who predated Dick’s debut as Batman’s Robin.

He stopped breathing.

Medical notes included clear amnesia, mixed language skills, and speaking languages (four separate, non-english ones recognized) that none of the social workers identified easily.

This Jane was instead given to a foster family of scientists after showing signs of compatibility. A pair of scientists noted for a close and loving bond while being unconventional and enthusiastic. Whose daughter was Dick’s age. And an enthusiastic older sibling that wanted a baby brother.

Dick felt sick as faint memories of his long dead sister resurfaced.

Jane, jane looked pretty close to—

His stomach lurched at the thought.

Danny can’t be her. He can’t be. Dotty has to be dead at this point.

—

“Breathe babe, now, why don’t you and your broody buddy do some star gazing? I know you’ve got a whole flock hidden somewhere,” Tucker suggested.

“I can ask my boss to give us the night off and watch Ellie while you do.”

“And i can play with cracking whatever slipshod necromancy was done and track it. As this is rank—no offense birdie.”

The botched revenant chirped at Tucker, too neutral to be more than an acknowledgement.

“I think i can handle that… and you need a name,” Danny turned his attention to the botched revenant holding him far too tightly. “How about Kite?”

The poor undead beamed at him.

“Okay you know what? All your buddies are getting birdie names. All of them.”

Not my Circus

A/N: I hate my brain and it's suckish timing...

Danny was a circus kid. He knew that, and so did his parents. Well, the once that took him in when he was five. He knew he had a loving family before the Fentons. Yet he doesn't know himself why he never put in more effort to return to them. No, wait, he had an idea what his five years old mind could have been thinking.

If Freakshow and his mockery of a circus had never shown up in Amity. Then Danny might have pushed the thought of his original family to the side forever. He had been a foolish kid back then, reckless and tempramental, unlike his older brother. He had tried to follow into his parents' and brother's footsteps, but he wasn't as graceful or acrobatic as they were. It was irony really with how much he liked flying and doing tricks in the air now. But still he remembered having a lot of frustrated fights with his brother about his inability to be like them.

When he got reminded he started to do a bit of a more serious research again and when he found out about his originals parents death half a year after he was first declared missing from the circus as well as his older brothers having gotten adopted too, he had dropped it all again. Pushing all of that back into the deepest depths of his mind again. His older brother was doing well. There was no need for him, for Danny.

That went well until Jazz went to university in Gotham and convinced him to go there to collage too, when he sort of forcefully retired from being a teen hero. It went well for a couple of years until his mid twenties.

Because despite Gotham being a city way bigger than Amity, there were still chances of you running into certain people.

The moment he entered the coffee shop and saw the others face, everything he had pushed aside in his mind came right back to the forefront of his mind.

How he foolishly trained in acrobatics behind his families back after another fight while they were moving towns and fell off the wagon.

How he had felt like he enjoyed not feeling presured to be like them and didn't put too much effort into returning to them when he was with the Fenton as well as thinking that his elder brother was probably happier without a stubborn little brother.

How when he looked them up he dropped it just as fast when he learned about their deaths and his elder brothers adoption.

He blinked wide-eyed at the man that stood before him a teen next to him while he held two cups of coffees. He, too, was staring at Danny frozen.

Now Danny had several options of how to handle the situation. And he most likely didn't choose the best one at first as usual. Because what he did in response at seeing Richard 'Dick' Grayson was to turn tail and run even using is invisibility and intangiblity.

What Danny didn't know was that Dick's first, thought, was someone cloned him and not that his missing brother from his days before the Waynes was back.

Thus a game of mouse was started...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: Saturday is fat tiddies day. I'm sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Wow, uh, I'd say that's a lot but it's really not much," you snort at Angelique as she comes out of your bathroom in a tiny string bikini. The leopard print is loud on the tiny triangles barely concealing her tits and a few other parts. 

"Not all of us are nuns like you," she retorts and sticks out her tongue. 

"I'm not a nun," you roll your eyes. 

You're not exactly modest yourself. You like your booty shorts and your cropped tops. And when you're lazy enough, you can be caught walking around in your purple track pants that read sex bomb across the ass. Not exactly classy, but fun. 

"Right, right, sure," she scoffs. 

"That's a low blow," you hiss. 

"Well, it's the truth. What's that now? Twenty-two and you're as pure as the blessed Mother Mary." 

"You're a fucking bitch," you sneer. 

"I am," she grins and shakes her tits. "But the guys love it." 

"You are so dumb," you scowl. 

"Try a smile, babe, and maybe someone will want to get it in." 

"Wow, did you just come over here to be awful?" 

"No, I came over to have fun. Loosen up, have some vodka." She insists. 

"Oh, no, I get it, you came to drink my booze," you accuse. 

"Look, it's hot enough out that I don't need you breathing down my neck. You invited me over," she snips. 

"Regretfully," you tweak your brow. 

"Boo, get you're fucking swimsuit on. I'm dying." She crosses her arms and drags her feet across the floor. She grabs her drink; some strawberry kiwi juice and too much vodka. 

"Why don't you go start?" You ask. "Better than pouting over your drinking problem." 

"Cuntttttt," she growls the last consonant. "Oh, you are the worst." 

"Isn't that why you love me?" You blow her a kiss and skip into your bedroom. 

You better keep up with her so you can put up with her. Vodka and orange juice should do the trick. A little less sickly sweet. You pull out your bikini. The sides of the bottoms are silver hoops and there's another between the bra cups. It's not exactly a nun's habit, is it? Especially with your tits. 

As you come out, you tuck in your left boob, the bigger one. Angelique swirls around her glass before emptying it. It's barely noon. 

"You know, you'll probably be drunk before you even get a tan," you chirp. 

"Probably," she shrugs and spins. "Come on, I'm bored." 

You huff and stomp around her. You pour yourself some vodka then find the carton of orange juice in your fridge. Hm, only enough for one drink. Nice of her to bring mixer for both of you. You dump it in with the vodka and head for the door. 

You grab your sunglasses before you step out into the sunlight. It's blazing hot. You slurp back the orange juice laced with alcohol and look around. You don't have much but it's yours. Somewhat. The sunburnt grass and cracked walkway. That's really the dream home. 

You put down your drink on the folding table under the mailbox and grab the kiddy pool leaning against the siding. Angelique makes no effort to help. You don't expect her too.

You drag it over onto the lawn and go around to unwind the hose. You unwind it and haul it back with you, tugging out the kinks until it reaches the pool. You'd do this all in the backyard but there's too many ant hills. 

You hold the hose and spray it into the plastic pool. As you do, you notice the peculiar dark shape in the next lot; a motorcycle. There's boxes on the other side of the duplex porch. Huh, they must've found a new tenant. 

Angelique pops open a bottle of tanning lotion and generously applies it over her arms and chest. She's shining as she smears it over her sandy skin. You'll put on some actual SPF when you get a minute. 

You wiggle the hose as you grow bored of filling the pool. Your mind wanders. She always has to say something. Always has to embarrass you. Never lets you forget every time you struck out. Well, you're just a little awkward. Maybe you should stop giving a fuck. Like her. 

"Oh, summer feels so good," she struts over with her drink and steps into the pool.

She sits and shivers so her pert tits jiggle. A top like that would do nothing but go missing under your chest. As she reclines and basks in the sunlight, you sigh. 

"Gee, Ang, thanks for all your help." 

"No problem, girly." She smirks and bends her leg, swaying it as you notice the neighbours across the street gawking. The two pot-bellied men who meet up to gripe on their lawn chair. Ew. 

You drop the hose in and go back to the porch. You dip inside for your bottle of sunscreen and come back out. You work at rubbing it in. You'll wait a bit before you get in so it doesn't wash off. It's no Hawaiian coast but that small dented pool is your only relief from the summer heat. 

Angelique swishes her second drink in the glass. You don't think she'd help with your back. She's in her own little bubble. As usual. 

You hear the snap of the door behind the wooden crisscross that blocks the other half of the porch. You glance over at the shadow that passes by. The unit's been empty almost since you got there. No tenant stayed longer than a month. 

The man tramps down his stairs and to the motorcycle leaning on its kickstand. He digs around in the saddle bags then turns. As he does, you catch his eye and give a half-smile. You wave weakly as he keeps going. Oh. 

You blink and look at Angelique. She's completely unaware; of your new neighbour or her audience. Two teen boys pass by in a not so subtle detour from their side of the street. You grimace but they're not looking at you. 

You turn the bottle in your hands. That man. He's kinda handsome, if he is a bit older. His long hair is a mix of fading brown and grey. His beard is seasoned with silver and his blue eyes shine boldly. And his jawline. That's to die for.  

Why had you been so hung up on boys your own age? 

The thought make you cringe. Are you serious? Angelique is right. You're too desperate. 

“Anj,” you approach the pool. 

“If you’re not offering to refill my drink, I don’t want to hear it.” Her eyes are closed behind the dark lenses. 

“Why are we friends again?” You mutter. 

She just giggles and finishes her drink. Nope. If she wants more, she can get it. You spin away and catch sight of that man again. 

Your new neighbour grabs a box from the stack on the front porch. You step up to the property line and smile. He doesn’t notice you as he disappears inside. 

There’s not much. The boxes are dusty, marked with the logos of the local storage facility, and his motorcycle is the only other thing there. He must’ve had the stuff dropped off. 

He emerges again and you wave, “uh, excuse me? Hi. Neighbour?” 

He pauses and his shoulders tense. He faces you slowly. His left arm is covered in ink. The patterns are intricate. His other arm is marked with scars. 

You introduce yourself as you sidle up the property line. He stares. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You say. He still doesn’t answer. “What’s your name?” 

He looks up then back at you. “Bucky,” he grits out. His voice is sexy. 

“Oh, Bucky? That’s cute,” you say. “Say, neighbour, can I ask a favour? I’ll bring you a casserole for your trouble.” 

He considers you, “don’t gotta do that.” He crosses his arms. His biceps bulge and so do your eyes. He is built. 

“Oh, but I wouldn’t mind, it’s just...” you peek over your shoulder at Angelique as she lazes in the water. The sun beats down on you hotly and sweat beads on your nape. You look at Bucky. “I can’t reach my back.” You show the bottle of sunscreen and smile sheepishly. “Could I get a hand?” 

He grumbles and tilts his head. He looks you up and down. 

“I really don’t wanna burn. It’s so hot out.” You plead. 

Reluctantly he unfolds his arms and comes down the porch steps. He approaches and his chest decompresses visibly as he exhales. He extends his palm to you. You press the bottle into it. 

“Thanks!” You let go and shimmy then turn your back to him. 

There’s a moment before the lid clicks. He still doesn’t speak. You hear the lotion squirt and brace yourself. He smears it, barely touching you. As the lotion only slides over your skin, he sighs. He shifts and rubs it in more firmly. You push back against his strength, arching your back just slightly. 

Your heart races. His hesitance is disappointing. You know you’re not ugly. The reasons you got for your many rejections were that you didn’t want a one-night stand or you insisted on protection. It’s not too much to ask for. You really don’t think it’s your looks. 

“All done,” he says. 

The lid snaps shut loudly. 

You face him, your bikini top stretching dangerous as your chest bounces. His eyes flick down briefly. You nearly laugh. It’s a nice reassurance. 

“Thanks, Bucky,” you smile. 

He grumbles again and hands you back the bottle. Your cheeks are on fire. He’s so hot. He’s got that definition that makes you all fuzzy. You bet he knows exactly what to do. 

“So if you need anything, I’m just next door,” you point to your side of the duplex. “Oh, and I don’t mind noise. At all.” 

He nods. You wring your hands around the bottle. 

“But you know, if you do, I can be quiet,” you say, realising the double meaning only as your words hang between you. 

His brows rise and he dips his chin again. He turns and stalks away. He’s busy. You’re bothering him. You’ll try again when he’s not unpacking. 

Your eyes linger on his bike. That might be good place to start. It’s all harmless. You’re being a good neighbour. 

You go to your own side of the porch and put the bottle on the top step. You go to the pool and poke Angelique with your toe. “Move over.” 

She snorts but gives you room. You get in, arms around the edge, feet up on the other. She giggles. 

“What?” 

“He’s a bit... ancient,” she flips her sunglasses up and gives you a pointed look. 

“Whatever,” you shrug. 

“Even so... he’s in good shape,” she sits up slight, flattening her hands against the bottom of the pool. “Hmmm... maybe you might have a chance with the old man.” 

“You’re such a bitch,” you growl. 

“No, really. Do you think you do?” She asks. 

You furrow your brow and search her face, “why?” 

“Oh, it could be fun. How about a bet?” 

“A bet?” 

“Sure, you know, we’re going down to the beach. Got that old house by the shore and there’s only so many spots. You could have one if you can reel him in. No virgins on vacation,” she taunts. 

“Fuck, I hate you,” you sneer. 

“You love me and I know for a fact, you don’t have a chance of seeing the beach if you don’t come so...” 

You take a breath and peer over as your neighbour swings the door open once more. He’s entirely undistracted as he lifts another box. Your stomach swims with nerves. You can flirt; it’s that next thing you never got the hang over. But so far, he’s not even flirting. 

“Guaranteed?” You arch a brow in her direction. 

“Promise. It’ll give you something to talk about.” She cranes to watch, “you better hope his dick still works.” 

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Cursed (Sam Winchester x female reader)

Sam and you are struck by a sex curse. That’s it. That’s the summary.

Read it on AO3

My 2024 Kinktober series

Rated E. 1.2k words. Sex curse. Marathon sex. Everyone needs to hydrate after this.

“Oh God,” you gasp, as Sam enters you again.

You’re straddling him, your arms around his broad shoulders, his face pressed into your neck. You can feel yourself starting to get sore, but if anything that makes you chase the pleasure more intensely.

And you can’t stop chasing it, even though you don’t know why. Your thoughts prod at the question but it’s almost like it’s escaping you, running away from you. You can see the question’s little bunny-tail disappearing around a corner just as Sam raises his head.

Both of you are sweating and panting, the room around you having grown impossibly hot, or maybe that is just the two of you, what you’ve been doing. Sam presses his open mouth against the underside of your jaw, tongues at the skin, as he bucks up into you and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him, the stretch and the immeasurable pleasure Sam is giving you.

That’s the other thing – the pleasure won’t let up. You keep coming and coming and so does Sam, and a distant part of your brain knows that there’s something weird about that, that something isn’t right about it, that you’ve skipped right past all limits the human body has. But then Sam tightens his arms around your waist, pulls you hard against him, the slick skin of your bodies sliding against each other, and you forget to wonder.

Your head drops back as another mind-numbing orgasm shakes you, the feeling of it so intense that you feel it in your fingertips, behind your eyelids. Either something very strange is going on or this is just what it’s like to fuck Sam Winchester.

Your head drops forward again and he’s there to meet you, one hand going to the back of your neck to make you focus on him, make you look into his eyes. Your hands go to his face because you can’t believe how well you can feel him, feel him pulsing inside of you.

“Sam,” you pant, and your voice comes out broken, because you have been screaming and whimpering for what feels like hours now. “C—can’t stop, need to—”

Sam kisses you in response, his lips pressing against yours so hard you’d think he wants to devour you.

“I don’t want to stop,” he pants into your mouth, and you think you could come again just from his breath on you, in you. “Don’t ever want to stop feeling you.”

You start riding Sam harder, another orgasm already building in you but what is driving you just as much is the deepening frown appearing on Sam’s face, the one that you now have learned means he’s about to come.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he presses you down on him again and again. He’s fucking up into you so hard, loud sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, that you’re sure you’ll be bruised soon but you couldn’t care less. Any mark he leaves on you you’ll be sure to caress with the same love you have for the man under you. The one you’ve been denying yourself for so long. So long. Weird, you think. Time is a strange concept.

And again, Sam’s body distracts you, because how could it not? He makes a desperate, pained sound and you swipe some hair that’s wet with sweat off his forehead.

“Sam, harder,” you barely manage to say but as if he’s reading your mind, he’s already doing it, already fucking you harder and you feel like you could probably pass out from how hard. He’s driving you so close against him that you think maybe you’ll stick together forever, and then he makes that sound again, a mix between a grunt and something else, and you can feel him spill inside you, just as he has so many times already.

Sam’s spendings are warm inside you and that alone, the feeling of that, pushes you over the edge again, makes you keen as you keep riding him, your hands going into his hair, fisting it, needing something, anything, to hold on to. Then you slump against him, holding him close, and both of you drop over to the side.

The mattress is impossibly soft. Sam doesn’t let go of you, keeps you wrapped up close to him. He’s still inside of you, somehow still hard, his hands resting on you as you both catch your breath. Your biggest instinct should be to sleep, or, more likely, to pass out. But Sam’s hand on you moves and you feel him stirring inside you again already. He leans over you. He’s still panting but it’s like he can’t stop himself, and neither can you.

“I think something’s wrong,” he says, as his big hands find your breasts, squeeze them. You moan, but you know he’s right. Something weird is going on here.

“Where were we?” you ask, but what you mean is how did we get here? For some reason you can’t see the room around you, can’t focus on it enough, also because Sam is rolling over you and there’s nowhere else you want to look.

“I can’t stop,” he huffs as he rubs his thumbs over your nipples, circles them, and you have no idea why he would want to stop. “Need to have you. Just one more time.”

Without ever having left you he pulls almost all the way out and then slams into you again and even on the first thrust, you feel your insides clench down on him, another climax announcing itself. How the hell is that possible?

Sam lets go of your breasts and grabs your hands, your fingers entangling with his as he pins them against the mattress under you, kisses you deeply.

“Sam, please, make me come,” you whine when he breaks away. And he does. Again and again.

You both do eventually pass out because your bodies cannot keep up. Sam somehow manages to sling his arm over you, almost as if trying to hide your nakedness from the outside world, and that’s the last thing you know.

Dean finds you, the witch killed, the spell broken. It’s a very awkward drive back to the motel, not least of all because you’re tacky with Sam’s sperm and your sweat as well as his. Sam’s staring straight ahead during the drive, his face deeply worried and you can’t stop looking at him.

Could be a remnant of the spell, but you know it’s not. You’ve never been able to stop looking at Sam.

After a long, long shower, a good night’s sleep and drinking about a bathtub worth of water, there’s a knock at the door of your room in the morning. You open up. It’s Sam. He looks terrified.

“We need to talk,” he says and you invite him in.

He feels guilty, because of course Sam would, but he was as much under the influence of the spell as you were.

It’s a strange situation, made infinitely stranger by the realization that you want him again. Sam seems to feel the same, because after an hour of talking, somehow you wind up in each other’s arms again.

You go slowly this time, no desperation and also because you are both still exhausted, both a little used up. It’s different, and neither of you manages to wring more than one round from your tired bodies. But it’s incredible.

It’s real and it’s good and it’s Sam.

[lunajay33]

Afraid

•🌌🤍🦇•

Summary: You’re Cassians sister but he hates Eris completely, so how do you chose between them, especially when Eris is your mate

Pairing: Eris x f!reader, Cassian x sister reader, other night court members x reader

•Masterlist•

After finding out Eris Vanserra, the oldest of the Autumn Court royalty, was my mate it was a hard pivot from my usual life, growing up with my brother Cassian was almost like I was blessed by the mother above, he always took care of me and made sure I was always happy, then Azriel and Rhysand came along when we were younger and we became our own little family, they treated me like their own sister and as we grew our family grew bigger, Mor came along and then Amren, it was just us for centuries

But then Rhys was trapped under the mountain and we were locked within the Night Court, no way of trying to save him, it took a toll on all of us but then one day it was like the sky became clear and we could breath again, and it was all thanks to my now sister in law, she saved my brother, saved all of pyrinthian

And just like that we had three new members to our family, even though I couldn’t find it easy to open my heart to Elain and especially Nesta with how she treats my poor knuckle head of a brother Cassian

The house became quickly overwhelming with how big our inner circle grew and it just became too much so I decided to have a get away for a while, I packed a bag and flew off towards the autumn court to a cabin Lucien said I could barrow

~Flashback~

The cabin was lovely, small but cozy, a fire place in the corner as the walls were adorned with fall decor it was very different from how my home is with the typical blues and greys with sparkles and stars, even though it was beautiful and special to me, the autumn court always called to me

I settled in for the night just me myself and I, the quiet soothing over me with the subtle sound of the wind blowing around the cabin rustling the leaves outside, an occasional hoot breaking the silence, it was purely…….bliss

I wake abruptly to the door being opened and a man grunting as the door slams, I peak out the bedroom door to see the man that I’ve always been fascinated by but could never approach because Cassian made it clear his hate for Eris, but I saw past that rough demeanour to what was underneath

In just my rich blue silk night dress I creep out of the room to where he was sprawled out on the couch, getting closer I notice his shape, bloody and bruised and he shudders every time he breathes in

My heart skips a beat seeing him likes this kills me for some reason and I barely know him, I sit next to him his eyes shoot open

“Are you okay?” I gently ask not wanting to startle him more

“What’re you doing here?” His voice calm but tired

“Lucien said I could stay here for a little, I needed some alone time, but that’s not important what happened to you?” He gently smiles before he groans as he tries to sit up

“The usual, made the old man mad cause I tried to protect my mother”

“Oh Eris” I sigh as I brush his silky auburn locks back, I took his hand in mine and channeled my powers not many knew about, my eyes glowing blue like the Velaris stars as I watch his wounds fade away until he’s like brand new even though it drains my energy for a while

“How did you do that?” He asks as he sits up without any pain and it settles my worrying heart

“It’s my gift the mother blessed me with, I couldn’t bare to see you like that” and that’s when I felt it, this snap in my chest like no other that connects me to Eris and I knew that he was the one for me, placing my hand on my chest I look up to see he has the same expression

“I’ve waited centuries for you little star” he smiles that fox like grin that sends a warm shiver down my spine

“My brothers are going to kill me” I laugh a little nervous as he brushes my hair back as he cups my cheek

“We’ll figure this out…..maybe we should just keep this between us while we explore this” I nod feeling undeniable love and joy between our bond

~Present~

It’s been a year since Eris and I became mates and it’s been a rollercoaster of many steamy nights as I snuck out to find him, the lust filled glances at meetings or the gentle touches at court balls, the only down side was having to brush off suspecting questions from my family, I want to tell them so badly they mean everything to me but I can’t bare to have Cassian be disappointed in me

Today was the annual ball that is held here in the Night court where all the high lords and their families come to mingle and just have a good fun time

Feyre and Mor were finishing up doing the final touches on my hair and makeup, as they treated me like a younger sister, I couldn’t stop squirming with excitement, I haven’t seen Eris in a week because of how busy we’ve both been

“What’s got you so happy sunshine?” Mor giggles as she places little gems in my hair

“Nothing just can’t wait to go to the ball”

“Is there maybe someone there waiting for you?” Feyre asks as my cheek rise with heat as I avoid their eyes

“I……I wish I could tell you” they stop what their doing and give me their full attention

“Sweetheart you know we’d never judge you, we’re your sisters we just want you to be happy” Mor said as she came around kneeling infront of me making my lip quiver

“You can’t tell anyone please” they nod

“I’ve found my mate” their eyes explode with shock as they scream and jump around

“How did we not know who is it? When did this happen?”

“It’s been a year tonight actually, it’s our anniversary, we’re swapping gifts at the ball” I smile looking at the box I had laid on the counter, a pair of gold rings, a thick band for him adorned with an engraved star and a silver ring for me with a auburn gem and an engraved fox

“Guess we will have to keep an eye out tonight won’t we mor?” Feyre smiles making Mor squeal again making me laugh along

~

Wearing a black dress with subtle rainbow sparkles all along the dress making me feel like a princess as I enter the ball room alongside Cassian, the others already there, the hall was filled with the families of every court, people laughing and chatting as the orchestra played in the corner with drinks flowing

“You look beautiful sis, please have fun tonight I know how much you’ve been doing to help Rhys plan this”

“I will I promise, now go find Nesta before she punches someone” I say making us both laugh

He gives me a gentle hug before he’s off weaving through the crowds

I glance around the room hoping to find my loving Fox until I felt his presence behind me a cunning whisper in my ear

“Now what’s a beautiful little star like you doing all alone at a ball” I turn with the biggest smile just wanting to throw my arms around him, he takes my hand and lead me off to a corner not many are around as he corners me between the walls so no one else could see me as he towered over making my knees weak, the scent of crisp leaves and musk over taking my senses

“I’ve missed you so much Eris” I whisper looking up at him, my hand against his chest

“Not as much as I’ve missed you my love, missed your scent…..your taste” he smirks

“Eris stop not here” I giggle

“Happy anniversary, my gift for you is back in the autumn court, I couldn’t really bring it here but I’ll show you tonight okay?” His hand squeezes my waist reassuringly

“Can’t wait, here’s yours, if it’s not your style I can exchange it” I say nervously as I hand him the box, he smiles as he opens it feeling a thrum of love through the bond

“Oh Angel it’s perfect” he takes mine out and gently slips it over my ring finger I then take his ring and do the same to him

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too Eris, always”

“Y/n what the hell is going on here?” I jump looking behind Eris to see my whole family standing there, Cassian looking about ready to rip Eris apart, looking to the others Rhys and Azriel looked unsurprised, nor and Feyre smiling, amren was unbothered as usual

“Umm…..I……we were just…..” it’s like my brain was malfunctioning

“Tell him sweetie” Mor smiles

I look back up at Eris who took my hand his warmth easing my racing thoughts

“Well?” Cassian asks unsettled

“Eris…….hes my mate”

The rage I could see immediately fill my brother scared me, he hates me now

“Cassian please don’t be made I know you don’t like him but he loves me he would never hurt me” I say quickly

“I love her, she the only thing that matters to me” Eris chimes in his hand going to my lower back to pull me close

“How could you, how long has this been going on?”

“Come on Cass go easy on her” Rhysand steps in

“Go easy, she’s with the man that tormented Mor, he’s pure evil”

My lip quivers feeling that weight in my chest again

“Cas I was with you every time Nesta hurt you, I supported you always even though she hurt me so many times, why can’t you just give him a chance” Eris holds me even tighter wiping my tears away

“I don’t even know who you are” I grunts as he storms off Azriel and Rhys quick to my side

“I’m sorry brothers I couldn’t help it I love him please don’t be mad at me too” I cry pleadingly not being able to lose them too

“Oh my heart we could never, we knew for a while we just wanted to wait till you were ready, we just want to you be happy and if that’s with Eris here then we can get use to it” Rhys says rubbing my arm as Azriels precious shadows swirled around my body like little puppies

“But Cassian hates me now” I cry again as Eris pulls me into his chest feeling his worry through the bond

“We’ll talk to him…..maybe you should clear you head and take some time away” Azriel says giving Eris a look

“Come on let’s go home my love” too upset to fly he winnows us back to the cabin we first found out we were mates

I sigh slumping down on the couch

“Still want you present Angel?” I perk up completely forget I nod as he goes into the bedroom and out runs a puppy Doberman with a pink bow around its neck, it hops on my lap licking all over my face

“Mother above she’s the cutest in the world! You got her for me?” I smile petting her as it calmed me

“I know you love them and thought it would be good practice”

“About that……I have another surprise for you”

“And what that?” He smiles kneeling infront of us as he plays with the puppy I’ve decided to name clover

“I’m pregnant” he stops looking up at me

“Are you serious! We’re having a baby?” I nod as he pulls me into a hug placing kisses all over my face

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday, madja did some tests, she said I’m 2 months along” he places a warm hand against my belly

“Let’s get you out this dress and into bed, it’s been a crazy night” he states as we walk to the bedroom Clover jump around at our feet

He unzips my dress letting it fall to the floor, gently undoing my hair and helping me into one of him over night shirts, he got ready and we both laid in bed facing eachother with clover curled up against my belly

“He’ll come around you know, he loves you too much”

“Oh what would I do without you” I laugh running my fingers through his hair

My wings fluttering at the love he sends me

“Get sleep, we’ll figure this out in the morning, in one night our family grew by two” soon I was fast asleep”

~

I wake from a smash coming from the front door frantic footsteps coming straight to the room, I barely had time to react before one of Eris’s brothers burst in dragging me front bed which woke Eris, jumping out of bed clover quivering, Kayden holding my arms behind my back with a sword to my throat

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Kyden” Eris growls his hands glowing with fire

“Father heard your little show last night, he was seething to say the least, really Eris mating with a dirty night court member? Either way father sent me to send you a message just like our dear naive brother Lucien” in one swift motion he raises his sword and with all his strength slash’s down and the pain that rips through my body is too strong I couldn’t even make a noise as I fall too the ground shaking in pain

Clover coming over whining as she paws at my face like she was trying to keep me awake, a ball of fire shoots through the air as Eris screams hearing Kyden retreat

Eris falls to his knees infront of my cradling me trying not to touch my seared open wounds where my wings once remained………my wings the ones I loved dearly, the memories I had with them as I flew with my brothers…..now gone

“Oh my little star hang on okay don’t fall asleep” in a shadow of mist I know he’s winnowing us somewhere but I can barely think the pain all consuming the only thing anchoring me is Clover in my arms and the warmth of Eris and the blood dripping down my back

“Eris” I whisper as the world becomes blotchy

“RHYSAND HELP ME” he screams out, the smell of my home surrounding me, the lavender and mist jolting me

I see Cassian, Nesta, Azriel and Mor come running up behind Eris, then hearing Rhys and Feyre behind me, frantic scared voices coming from all around me, screams or terror, cries for the healers

Cassian takes my face in his hands as I’m laid on my side of some bed but I couldn’t focus, like I was watching everything from outside my body

“You better not leave me, I can’t lose you my sparkle, you’re my little sis, you hold on” I hear clover whine again as she comes and curls up under my chin resting her head against the side of my neck protectively

“I……I’m sorry” I sigh as the world finally goes black”

~Eris POV~

Watching her in pain, feeling her pain feels like I’m being punished by the mother above, seeing her bleed out and lose all color, seeing her wings lay limp against the floor then the screams of her family

I sit next to her as she heals, it’s been a week and I can’t do a thing but watch her, pray that her chest will rise again after ever breath she takes, hope to the mother that this baby is still there and that she’ll wake and not hate me for what my bastard brother did

Cassian has sat on the chair on the other side of the bed, as white as a ghost

“You know she wanted to tell you, I saw the way it bothered her not telling you, she always said “my brother gonna kill me” but then she’d giggle that beautiful laugh and tell me a story where you made her feel special, she loves you”

He sighs resting his head against her hand

“I should’ve been happy for her, I shouldn’t have gotten mad and walked out she wouldn’t…..she didn’t do that to me and what if she doesn’t wake up and I’ll never be able to tell her that”

“Don’t talk like that, she’ll wake up she has to” I almost cry again for the hundredth time resting my hand against her lower belly beside clovers head, she hasn’t left her side except to eat I think she could sense it, I could feel the bond she’s already made with my mate

“No…….shes pregnant?” Cassian asks looking down to where my hand rests, I nod

“She told me the night of the ball, part of her anniversary present to me, mine was clover for her, I thought……I thought everything was finally perfect, I always wanted a child with her and she was so happy, she’s gonna hate me now for what my brother did to her”

“I don’t think she’d hate anyone, she definitely wouldn’t hate you this past year she’s been a beam of star light, always happy and I guess if that because of you I can’t be mad that you’re her mate” Cassian says giving me a reassuring nod

Madja comes in to check on her using her magic

“How’s she doing?” I ask as I pet clover

“She’s healing well, her back has no signs of infection and the babies are growing at their normal rate, luckily you got here in time before she lost too much blood” my heart skips a beat

“Babies? As in more than one?” Cassian asks just as surprised as me

“Yes dear you’re having twins, congrats” she smiled before leaving

~Normal POV~

Gentle voices around me slowly come into focus as I open my eyes as I feel a burning ache along my back, the memories of that night, Kyden taking me, taking my wings who am I without my wings……please mother above let my baby be okay

“Eris….” I whimper as I try to sit up seeing him and Cassian at my sides, my little clover on my lap

He shoots up from his spot coming up to to caress my cheek feeling the warmth I love

“Oh my little star, how’re you feeling can I get you anything?” I could feel his fear through the bond and all I could do was look at him

“I’m sorry……I should’ve locked the door or we should’ve stayed in the night court and now I’m hideous…..my wings….” I cry finally feeling everything

“Oh my love don’t ever say that, none of this is your fault, Kyden will pay for hurting you and you’re still by beautiful mate I’ll be with you every second to heal from this, you’re gonna be a strong mother”

“She’s still okay?” I ask feeling clover place her head over my belly

“Both of them actually….theyre healthy”

“Twins? Oh wow I can’t believe this”

“You’ll be okay sis, I’m sorry I reacted like that but I’ll never make you feel like that again” Cassian sighs placing a kiss to my hand

“I understand, it’s not your fault I’m just happy you’re still here with me” I smile weakly as Eris keeps kissing my face

“You know you scared me, I never wanna see you like that again, feeling our bond weaken was the worst pain” Eris groaned as clover came up to nudge him away

“Everything’s okay now! We can all be a family now right?” I look between them

“Always”

“Always”

~

Healing was hard, having to walk again without the weight of my wings, Azriel helped me a lot when Cassian was busy, he let me play with his shadows when I felt discouraged and I’d tumble over

Rhys made sure I always had everything I wanted even if I didn’t know I needed it, bringing me all the food cravings I wanted, Feyre leaving me my favourite flowers, Mor gifting me with new clothes now that I didn’t have wings and had a baby belly, Clover stayed at my side every moment and she grew at light speed already to my hip, letting my lean against her as I walked, Elain and Nesta still didn’t bother with me which still hurt, and my dear Eris treating me like a speck of a diamond like if break at any moment but I couldn’t blame him, always rubbing my belly, braiding my hair when it got annoying, holding me extra close every night

I’m due any day now and I’m nervous to say the least, I just want to be a good mom and I know how worried Eris is too, scared he’ll become like his father

I wobble my way into the bedroom and change into my night gown, clover helping bump me up onto the bed before she jumps up after me, like always here head lay on my lamp, her puppy eyes looking up at me

“You excited to meet a mini me and Eris?” I giggle when she huffs and rubs her snout against my belly

“If it isn’t my two favorite girls already waiting for me” Eris chimes as he enters the room hoping into bed with us, his strong arms wrapping around me as he pulls me into a passionate kiss taking my breath away

“I missed you my love”

“I missed you more, these babies are little rascals they keep fighting”

“Definitely mine” he laughs as I lay my head on his chest

“Oh I forgot to tell you, Azriel brought me something today, might be strange but he thought it would give you closure” he got out of bed going into the hallway and bringing in a huge shadow box

“Well turn it around don’t leave me in suspense!” He bites his lip before turning it I gasp

Within the shadow box is my wings spread out and framed beautifully, the background black with rainbow sparkles, the wings must be enchanted to stay preserved, walking up to it I lay my hand against the glass

“I want them back Eris” I cry as he settles them down by the wall

“I know my love and if I could I’d do anything to give them back” he says pulling me into a hug

“Come on let’s get you to bed”

“You go on I’m gonna go tell Azriel thanks, I’m be back in a second okay?” He nods giving me one last kiss

Walking down the hall until I get to his room where the shadows come out from under the door curling around my feet and tickling

“Come in” he calls before I even knock

I walk in and go straight to him on the bed where’s he’s sat reading

“I wanted to say thank you for the gift, I really love it to still see them, I miss it though, flying around and feeling the wind in my hair”

“Once you have my darling niece and nephew I’ll take you, I promise” I smile and squeeze his hand until I feel a huge pressure release and then the bed is wet

“Oh gosh Azriel I’m so sorry” he jumps up and scoops me in his arms

“Angel you’re having your babies I think my bed can handle it” he walks back past my room calling for Eris and he was quick on our tail along with Clover following to madja

~

After hours of contractions it was time, screaming I push feeling like I was being shredded until I hear that little cry

“She’s beautiful, she has wings my love” Eris cries as he wipes my head with a cool cloth the rest of the family sat around the room watching anxiously Cassian now holding my little girl in a blanket

“Oh it’s happening again” I whine feeling the push again

“Come on you’re almost there” and finally the pain, the pressure was gone and my babies were here

Eris holds my baby boy up to me, his little wisp of curly ginger hair, his skin adorned with freckles, his eyes a deep auburn

Cassian holding my girl for me, little deep grey wings with a hue of purple, her hair chocolate brown and lilac eyes, I take them both in my arms as the others come around to marvel and my babies

“They’re beautiful” I smile as Eris sits next to me holding me to his chest

“You did amazing my little star, the mother has truly blessed me”

“Her wings…….theyre just like mine” I feel a part of me heal at that knowing she’ll be free like I was and knowing my boy will be strong like his father

“What’re you gonna name them?” Feyres asks

“We’re thinking she’ll be Cassi for my dear brother and he’ll be Aris a mix between Eris and Azriel” they smile as I feel Azriels shadows at my hands

“Don’t worry Rhysand next time I’ll include you” I say making him laugh

“Don’t worry, I’m proud of you Angel, we all are”

“Our little family just got a bit bigger”

[weneeya]

pure adoration m.list | rules

pairing. dick grayson x reader

note. fluff and soft stuff in delivery! love him sm i couldn't help it so there you go :)

Dick was a fool for you, and everyone knew it pretty well. You could have done absolutely anything, even the worst thing possible, he would have found a way to defend you. In his eyes, you couldn’t do anything bad. You were too perfect for that. The prettiest girl he ever saw, the smartest he ever talked to ; you had the qualities a human could have and even more. It was easy to say that Dick was putting you on a pedestal. 

To his defense, you were actually really sweet. The type of person who helps others without asking for something in return, even if you had quite your own character. You weren’t afraid to say what was wrong, and if you had to fight, then you would never step back. You were everything Dick could dream of, even if your friends saw you as a pitbull sometimes. 

Dick didn’t have the bravery to ask you out on a real date. Yes, the Nightwing himself was scared of rejection from the girl he could have died for. So he kept on inviting you to go out together but always as friends and nothing more. Sometimes, he even told you to bring other people to not make it too weird ; even if he only had eyes for you. 

This time, it was only the two of you. You were sitting in front of him in the coffee shop, your hot drink between your hands as you were talking. He wasn’t sure if he was still listening to what you were saying or if the sound of your voice was simply soothing his mind ; but his gaze didn’t leave your face for a second. His cheek was resting in the palm of his hand and his eyes were observing every detail of your face. 

Suddenly, you stopped talking and it got him out of his thoughts almost immediately. “Is something wrong?” He asked you the second after, a hint of worry in his eyes. You sighed slowly as you looked away. “Sorry, I talk too much.” You told him and he swore he never saw you like this before. Who ever told you that? Not him, that was for sure, because he could have listened to you talking forever. Dick grabbed your hand in a gentle move, stroking the back of it. 

You met his eyes again, and you felt your heart skipping a beat at the look he was giving you. Since when did he look at you with so much adoration? You were sure you never noticed it before, but you couldn’t ignore it now. “It’s never too much. Please, talk all you want. I’ll listen anyway.” The soft smile that appeared on his lips after his words could have brought the tears to your eyes if you weren’t fighting them. Your grip on his hand slightly tightened before you nodded softly. 

“Thanks Dick,” you told him, and he left a kiss on the back of your hand as an answer. It caught you off guard, and you had some trouble going back to what you were saying after that. If one thing was sure, you wouldn’t be able to forget this look in his eyes for a while. 

After that day, you noticed all the little things that Dick was doing toward you, and you felt dumb for not noticing what was going on earlier. How he was always complimenting you on what you were doing, or how he always made sure that you were feeling comfortable about everything. He kept on taking care of you without being too intrusive and it broke your heart to think that he was probably sure that his feelings weren’t mutual. 

This is why you decided to talk to him. You asked him to come over at your place, and this is how you ended up sitting on your couch together. Dick looked at you, a bit worried. He could feel that something was off, but he didn’t know what it was. “You wanted to tell me something?” He asked, and you quickly nodded, turning around to face him. 

“Listen, I’ve thought a lot. About everything, but mostly about us, and we can’t…” He didn’t let you finish, his voice going out a bit more desperate than what he thought. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry, I’ll stop. But please, please don’t leave.” He took your hands between his and you didn’t expect this reaction from him. You slowly put your hand on his cheek, stroking it gently. 

“Hey, hey. Calm down, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice was so soft, like sweet music to his ears. He melted onto your touch, looking in your eyes as he waited for you to keep going with what you wanted to say. “I wanted to say that we can’t keep going like that, because I can’t stay your friend.” His grip on your hand got a little tighter but your gentle smile calmed all his worries. 

“I like more than that, Dick. And if you let me, I’d love to be more than your friend.” He was sure that he felt his heart stopping into his chest when you stopped talking. It was a dream, it couldn’t be otherwise. There was no way you were really saying those words to him. “Really..? You really want to be… my girlfriend?” He asked, and you only answered with a nod. 

You didn’t have the chance to say anything because Dick cupped your face with his hands so his lips could meet yours. It was so sweet, your lips feeling like honey against his own. When he let you go, you were quickly stuck into his embrace. He was holding you tightly, nose in your hair. “I’ll make you the happiest girl on Earth, just like you’re making me the happiest man alive.” His eyes met yours right after that, and the smile on his lips made your stomach do a flip. He really seemed to be the happiest right now. 

You sure took your sweet time to realize your own feelings, but now, you knew that nothing could make them disappear.

thanks for reading <3

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Nerd gojo x nerd reader headcanons pt 3

_Part 2_

Nerdjo! X nerdreader! Lmao guys I don't know it takes time to think for a scenario for nerd gojo!

♡ Gojo, the hopeless overthinker-After catching you reading a book on quantum mechanics, he stares at you for an entire class.

His mind is in overdrive.

“What does she know that I don’t?”

You glance up from your book and notice him staring.

Your expression doesn’t change, just a slight raise of the brow.

He starts questioning reality. He wonders if maybe you’re an alien who landed to study humans.

He’s not sure if he’s scared or in awe.

♡ Gojo, the performance artist-He’s in class, casually tossing out random knowledge to impress everyone.

You’re sitting right next to him, completely unfazed.

He throws out an elaborate theory about space-time continuums.

You glance at him, and in that cool, calculated tone of yours, you say, “Actually, there’s a counter-theory that suggests…”

He’s frozen stunned.

You just corrected him.

He’s in shock. He didn’t even realize there was a counter-theory.

♡ Gojo, the never-satisfied challenger-It’s become a ritual now. He challenges you to random things just to get a reaction.

One day, he walks into the library where you’re reading again and says, “I bet you can’t solve this one faster than me.”

You just stare at him like he's a child.

He watches you effortlessly solve the puzzle in seconds.

His brain breaks.

“Okay… you win. Again.”

He mumbles it like he’s been defeated, even though you both know he never stood a chance.

You just blink, your face a mask of indifference.

♡ Gojo, the insufferable over-achiever-He throws a math challenge your way in class, but it’s no longer about the challenge.

It’s about getting you to look up at him.

When you solve it in seconds, he pretends to be devastated.

“How… How do you do it?!”

You don’t even flinch. You just mutter, “It’s all about applying basic principles, Gojo.”

He finds it so frustrating but can’t help but admire you for it.

This feeling of being outmatched starts to gnaw at him, but it excites him too.

♡ Gojo, the dumbstruck fool-One day, he just can’t take it anymore. He watches you at lunch, reading your book with so much focus.

He interrupts your concentration with a dramatic gesture, throwing his arms out.

“You can’t possibly be that focused!”

You look up, raise an eyebrow, and say, “Well, Gojo, focusing is a part of my natural process of learning. You should try it sometime.”

His jaw drops.

The fact that you just casually insulted him makes him both irritated and in love at the same time.

♡ Gojo, the unintentional simp-He’s in class, trying to act all cool and aloof, but his eyes are constantly shifting to where you’re sitting.

You never seem to notice.

He can’t stop thinking about how you’re always so calm, always so collected.

One day, he catches himself staring at you for way too long.

His heart skips a beat when you finally look up and catch his gaze.

You don’t say anything. You don’t even smile.

But the look in your eyes… it makes his heart race.

He looks away like a fool, muttering under his breath. “What the hell is happening to me?”

♡ Gojo, the clingy puppy-He shows up to the library one day to find you reading, of course.

He’s spent the last few hours thinking of ways to get your attention.

He plops down next to you.

“Hey, Y/N, what are you reading?”

You glance at him for a second and say, “A book on theoretical physics.”

He stares at you, unblinking. “Sounds boring.”

You stare back, saying nothing, then go back to reading.

He can’t help himself anymore he leans over and practically whispers in your ear,

“I think you’re kinda cool, you know?”

Your response is the most distracting part of his life.

You don’t even look up. “And I think you should stop distracting me.”

♡ Gojo, the underestimator-He once convinced himself that he could outwit you in everything.

So when the next mission is announced, he’s all cocky about it.

“I’ve got this in the bag. No one’s a better strategist than me.”

But when the team assembles to discuss the mission, you outshine him with every point you bring up.

“You didn’t consider the potential outcomes of that tactic, Gojo.”

His face turns bright red. He tries to play it cool, but you’ve already won this round.

He’s still muttering about it later, trying to convince himself that it was just a fluke.

But deep down, he’s starting to see you as more than just his rival.

♡ Gojo, the frustrated genius-He’s notorious for his smug attitude, his self-proclaimed genius status.

But you, Y/N, have officially cracked the code.

He’s secretly obsessed with trying to figure you out.

There’s no logic in his mind to explain why he can’t stop thinking about you.

He finds himself watching you from afar, wondering if he could ever measure up to your calm intellect.

“Why does she have to be so perfect?” he thinks, but only when he’s alone.

The thought torments him and keeps him up at night.

♡ Gojo, the declaration of affection-One evening, after yet another failed attempt at getting your attention, he stands in front of you.

The usual smirk is gone.

“I think… I think I like you.”

You blink.

He’s waiting for you to say something clever, to shut him down.

But you don’t.

You just stare at him with that unreadable expression.

“Yeah, I know,” you finally say, casually flipping through your book.

He’s left speechless, heart racing in a way he’s never felt before.

The realization hits him hard. You’re so far above him, and yet, he’s already in too deep.

♡ Gojo, the love-struck fool-He can’t help it. No matter how much he tries to deny it, he’s falling for you.

Every interaction, every glance, every indifferent comment you make only makes him more obsessed with you.

But he’s Gojo Satoru, and he’s never been the type to give up so easily.

He’s decided.

He’s going to make you notice him.

No matter how hard it gets, no matter how impossible it feels,

He’s going to win this challenge.

And it’s going to be the best battle of his life.

@syrooo @11v1ngzomble @dekusdante @inoluvrr @hel1nn

[setmeatopthepyre]

fuck it friday

not tagged by anyone 'cause I'm being the change I want to see in the world etc etc etc

from pothos | pathos pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5

-

Eddie is on his couch, aimlessly swiping through housing listings, vaguely hoping that the next generic wide-angle picture of a soulless sunny living room will suddenly give him all the answers he needs, when the doorbell rings.

He opens the door without looking. He gets as far as “I’m still all out of flour from last time--" when he realizes it’s not Buck on his doorstep at all. It takes a second because he's not used to seeing the captain of the 122 in anything other than a suit or a set of turnouts. “Deluca?” he says, surprised. “I thought poker night was next week.”

“I ain’t here to clear you out this time, Diaz,” Deluca says.

Eddie huffs. As if. The man barely has a filter and that translates fairly directly to the efficacy of his poker face.

“Are you gonna let me in, or what?”

“Sure. If you tell me to what I owe the visit.” Eddie’s already stepping aside, letting him in.

Deluca strides in like he owns the place, crossing his arms as he takes in the living room. “Is it just you?”

“Yes…?” he says slowly, following him in. He snatches his nearly-empty bottle from the table, lifts it and points from the bottle to Deluca in the universally understood gesture for you want one?

“Yeah, sure,” he says.

Deluca doesn’t offer up an explanation for his presence as Eddie cracks open two bottles of beer, hands one off to the man still standing in his living room like he’s trying to decide if he wants to be there at all, and sinks down onto the couch again for lack of anything better to do.

Deluca doesn’t sit, but he does take a long swig of his beer and narrow his eyes at Eddie. Finally he asks, “You seen Tommy?”

Eddie nods. “Couple of days ago. Why?”

“Any clue what the hell is wrong with him?”

What, this guy, too? Eddie rubs at his eyes. “How about you tell me why you’re asking?”

Deluca glares at him some more, seems to come to some decision, and sinks down on the other side of the couch with a huff. “He skipped out on my little girl’s birthday.”

Eddie blinks. He isn't sure what he’d been expecting, maybe something more akin to Buck’s vague hunches, but not… this.

He does vaguely recall the subject of Deluca’s kids coming up at poker night, though. Racks his brain for a second. “You’ve got three kids, right?”

Deluca eyes him for a second, but it’s less of a glare this time. “Yeah. Two girls and a boy. Oldest just turned ten, youngest is three.”

“Huh,” is all Eddie finds himself saying. Thinks for a moment, again, of Christopher, of the birthday party Eddie only got glimpses of over a video call. He really needs to stop procrastinating and just pick a damn house. Maybe he should just go to El Paso and see from there.

But this isn’t about him.

“And… Tommy usually goes to your kids’ birthday parties?”

“Goddamn right he does. He’s their favorite uncle.”

Uncle? “Hold on, you guys are…?”

“Jesus H. Christ, Diaz,” Deluca says with a roll of his eyes. “Do you want a copy of my family tree? No, we ain’t related, but we might as well be.”

Eddie raises a hand in surrender. The guy’s clearly passionate about this.

“The important thing is,” Deluca continues, eyes intense and jabbing a finger in Eddie’s direction, “The man has showed up to every single goddamn birthday and big event, and now he skips Sophie’s big ten? Something’s goin’ on.”

There’s a simple solution to that, if you ask Eddie. “Did you ask him about it?”

“Who the hell do you think I am? Of course I did. You know what he did?” Eddie gets the feeling he’s not actually expected to answer and Deluca proves him right. “He goddamn apologized.”

He frowns. “I don’t know man, that seems… reasonable?”

Deluca gets to his feet with a grunt of frustration, starts pacing. “Don’t be an idiot, Diaz. You have any clue what Tommy does when he knows he’s fucked up?” It’s another rhetorical question. “One of three things,” Deluca says, raises one finger. “Either he gets defensive and turns into the world’s most sarcastic asshole--” A second finger goes up. “He turns into a pathetic pile of misery and then moves heaven and earth to make things right--" Third finger. “Or he shuts down completely. What he doesn’t do is fuckin' apologize and then pleasantly ask me if Sophie had a nice day. So you better tell me now, what the hell did Buckley do to him?”

“Now hold on,” Eddie sets his bottle down, gets to his feet as well. “Buckley--- Buck didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah? Then why the hell does Tommy tell me they’ve broken up and then turn into a fucking pod person?”

Eddie sighs. He’s pretty sure he’s getting a migraine or something. “You better ask him, because he broke up with Buck, not the other way around.”

Deluca falters, mouth snapping shut from where he’d looked about ready to yell at him some more. “What?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, shrugs.

“That goddamned idiot,” Deluca mutters.

-

tagging @sugarpenchant @beanarie @rcmclachlan @emphasisonthehomo @rimatsu @trombonechurchill @leashybebes @geddyqueer @ambernotember

tag list for those who requested tags for this fic under the cut ↓

@fiyaerrigan @bisexualbrainrots @leashybebes @louuieferrignojr @rubydaiquiri @teabroomsandbooks @crimsonwildcat-blog @sweaters-and-silly @nochance-noway @manifestingchaoticvibes @hyperfocusthusly @frogsinflannel @beanarie @rcmclachlan @sad-girl-hours23 @ambernotember @apartmentsmoke @bidisasterevankinard @agentpeggycartering @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @daughterofscotland

let me know if you wanna be added or removed!

[4linos]

across the street pt. 2

bang chan x fem!reader, lee know x fem!reader

synopsis: chan finally confronts you, asking why you’ve been avoiding him all these years. his questions about nari hit too close to home, and you lie to protect her. the tension between you two is unbearable, but you convince yourself it’s the only way to keep your family intact.

wc: 3500

[across the street pt. 1]

You had done well to avoid Chan since the moment you noticed him moving in. You weren’t sure if he had realized it was you yet, but it was only a matter of time. Still, after all these years, you had no idea how to face him. Not after everything.

But ever since you caught sight of him again, an unbearable weight had settled in your chest, the guilt of keeping Nari from him. You had told yourself it was for the best, that there was no point in dragging up the past, but now you weren’t so sure.

To Nari, her father was a distant figure, someone you had only spoken of vaguely. Whenever she asked, you told her the same thing: her dad was working far away, and you weren’t sure when he would be back. She didn’t question it much. Maybe because she had Minho. He had been there for her since she was an infant, playing the role of a father figure effortlessly, and she loved him. She didn’t seem to feel like she was missing anything.

It was a typical day when you were walking home with Nari after spending time at the park and stopping by the convenience store for a snack. But the moment you were walking up to your house, your breath caught in your throat.

Chan was there.

Leaning against your car, arms crossed over his chest, he looked like he had been waiting for you. Your heartbeat quickened. You weren’t ready for this. You didn’t know if you’d ever be ready for this.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, holding onto Nari’s small hand as you approached. Chan straightened at the sight of you, his expression unreadable.

“Can we talk?” His voice was calm, but there was something tight beneath it, something restrained.

You hesitated, but there was no point in avoiding him now. You nodded, then crouched down to Nari’s level, handing her the small bag with her snack inside. “Go inside to Minho, okay?”

She looked between you and Chan curiously but nodded, skipping off toward the house without question. Chan’s eyes followed her for a moment before flicking back to you.

An uneasy silence stretched between you before he finally spoke. “How have you been?”

You inhaled deeply, deciding there was no use in lying. “I’ve been good.”

He nodded slowly, as if turning the words over in his mind. Then his expression hardened slightly. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “I saw you the first day I moved in. I know you saw me too, but you didn’t say anything. So tell me. Why have you been avoiding me?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Are you serious? It’s been years, Chan. We didn’t exactly leave things on good terms. Why would I go out of my way to talk to you?”

His jaw clenched. “Because the breakup wasn’t mutual,” he countered, his voice lower now. “It was your choice. I didn’t get a say. You blocked me. You blocked Changbin and Jisung. You even blocked my family. I couldn’t reach you. I tried looking for you everywhere.” His voice wavered slightly, and he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “And now, after all this time, I find out you’ve been here this whole time, living a completely different life.”

You had no response to that. You didn’t know how to explain the choices you had made back then, the things you had been afraid of, the things you were still afraid of.

After a long moment, you swallowed hard and said, “Things are different now. I have my daughter, and I have my boyfriend. Minho.”

Chan’s expression shifted the moment you mentioned Minho, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze flickering toward the house where Nari had disappeared inside.

His voice was careful when he spoke again. “Your daughter… How old is she?”

Your stomach twisted, your heart pounding so loudly you thought he might hear it. The way he asked, it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t just curiosity. It was almost like he already knew but wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

You swallowed hard, keeping your face neutral. “She’s four, almost five.”

Chan inhaled sharply. His fingers twitched at his sides, and he nodded slowly, like he was piecing things together in real time. “four,” he repeated under his breath.

He didn’t need to say anything else. The timeline was obvious. Too obvious. You could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, the unspoken question hanging between you like a blade.

Your breath felt shallow. You had to stop this before it went any further. Before he figured it out.

“She’s Minho’s,” you said, forcing the words out evenly, even as they made you sick to your stomach. “We’ve been together for a long time.”

Chan flinched. It was subtle, but you saw it. The way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers curled into fists for just a second before he forced himself to relax. He gave a small, tight nod, looking away.

“Right,” he said after a moment. “Minho’s daughter.”

You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else. You couldn’t.

The silence between you was suffocating. He was staring at the ground now, lips pressed together like he was trying to hold something back. Maybe he believed you. Maybe he didn’t. But either way, the weight of your lie settled over you, heavier than anything you had felt before.

And for the first time since you had left him, you felt something dangerously close to regret.

You inhaled sharply, forcing down the lump in your throat as you squared your shoulders. “Are you done questioning me?” you asked, voice steady despite the way your heart pounded against your ribs.

Chan’s eyes flickered back to yours, searching, but you didn’t let him see anything beyond your indifference. You couldn’t. If he saw even a sliver of doubt, he’d dig deeper, and you weren’t sure you could handle that.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, but before he could say anything, the front door creaked open.

“Babe?” Minho’s voice cut through the tense air like a blade. You turned just as he stepped outside, his sharp eyes scanning the scene between you and Chan. His posture was relaxed, but there was something guarded in the way he held himself, like he was ready to step in if needed. “Everything okay out here?”

You blinked, swallowing back the tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah,” you managed, your voice softer now. “We were just finishing up.”

Before Minho could say anything else, a small voice called from inside.

“Mommy! Hurry up!” Nari’s little face appeared in the doorway, a bright grin spread across her lips. “Minho and I are waiting! It’s movie night!”

Chan’s entire body stiffened at the sound of her voice. You felt it. How he went rigid beside you, how his hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach out but knew he couldn’t.

You turned away from him before he could say anything, before you could see the look in his eyes that might shatter the fragile lie you had built.

“Coming, baby,” you called back, quickly stepping toward the house. Minho gave Chan one last unreadable glance before wrapping an arm around your waist, guiding you inside.

You didn’t dare look back. You couldn’t. Because if you did, you might break.

As soon as you stepped inside, Nari ran off to the living room, giggling as she flopped onto the couch, already getting comfortable for movie night. You watched her for a brief moment, her little feet kicking excitedly against the cushions, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside you.

Minho, however, didn’t move. His arm stayed firm around your waist, his body warm and steady against yours. He didn’t speak right away, he never did when he knew you were holding something in. He just stood there, waiting, giving you the space to say what you needed to say.

And just like that, the weight of the conversation with Chan crashed down on you all at once. The guilt, the fear, the overwhelming ache of seeing him again, it was suffocating. Before you could stop yourself, your hands clutched onto Minho’s shirt, and your body trembled as the sobs you’d been holding back finally broke free.

He didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly, holding you together when you felt like you were falling apart.

Through broken sobs, you told him everything. You told him how Chan had confronted you, how he had known you were avoiding him, how he asked about Nari, almost as if he knew the truth but wasn’t sure how to say it. You confessed how terrified you were, terrified of what would happen if Chan found out, terrified of what it would do to Nari, to you, to everything you had built.

Minho listened silently, rubbing slow, comforting circles against your back. He didn’t tell you what you should have done, didn’t tell you that you were wrong or right, he just held you, letting you pour out the emotions that had been trapped inside you for so long.

When your sobs finally quieted, he pulled back just enough to cup your face. His thumbs brushed away the lingering tears, his gaze soft but firm. “Nari’s going to see you cry,” he murmured gently. “You don’t want her to worry, do you?”

You sniffled, shaking your head. He smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed softly. “One more.”

You followed his lead, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, grounding yourself in his presence.

“Better?” he asked, still holding you close.

You nodded weakly, and he grinned. “Good. Now, come on. We have a movie night to get to.”

And just like that, he led you to the living room, where Nari was waiting, her bright eyes looking up at you expectantly. You mustered up a smile for her, ignoring the way your heart still ached, and sat down beside her. Minho joined you, subtly slipping his hand into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

And for now, just for tonight, you let yourself believe that this was enough.

The movie played in the background, some animated film that Nari had already seen a dozen times but still watched with the same excitement. She curled up against you, her tiny fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve as she hummed along to the music. Minho sat on the other side of her, one arm stretched across the back of the couch, fingers occasionally grazing your shoulder in a silent reminder that he was there.

For a while, everything felt normal. Safe. Like the confrontation with Chan hadn’t happened.

But as much as you wanted to ignore it, your mind kept replaying his words. The way he had looked at you, almost like he was searching for something confirmation, maybe, or some kind of truth he already suspected.

You stole a glance at Nari.

Could he really tell?

She had always resembled you more, but there were pieces of Chan in her, too. The curve of her smile, the way she scrunched her nose when she was deep in thought, her soft bouncy curls, and the little dimple that appeared when she laughed too hard. Maybe it had been enough to make him wonder.

Your stomach twisted.

Minho must have noticed your change in demeanor because his fingers brushed over your wrist, grounding you. You turned to him, and he didn’t say anything, just gave you a knowing look.

You’re overthinking again.

You exhaled softly, leaning into his touch.

Once the movie ended and Nari’s eyes started to droop, Minho carried her to bed, tucking her in as she mumbled sleepily about wanting pancakes for breakfast. When he returned, he found you in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter, lost in thought.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice gentle as he approached.

You hesitated before whispering, “What if he finds out?”

Minho sighed, leaning against the counter beside you. “You’re scared he’ll try to take her away.”

You nodded, throat tightening. “Or that she’ll want to know him. That everything will change.”

Minho didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “If that happens, we’ll handle it,” he said simply. “You’re not alone in this.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache.

You swallowed hard, squeezing his hand. “I don’t regret choosing this life,” you admitted. “I just—”

“You’re afraid of losing it.”

You nodded again, and Minho pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “Together.”

And as much as the fear still lingered, you held onto his words.

You barely got any sleep that night. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind raced with possibilities.

How would Chan react? Would he be angry? Hurt? Would he hate you for keeping this from him?

But the worst thought of all, the one that made your stomach twist was Nari.

Would she resent you for lying to her? For keeping her father away, even if you had done it out of fear? Would she grow up and look at you differently, wondering why you hadn’t told her the truth sooner?

And then there was the most terrifying possibility of all..

Would Chan try to take her away from you?

The thought sent a sharp pain through your chest. No matter what happened, Nari was your baby. You had raised her, loved her, cared for her every single day since she was born. The idea of losing even a second with her was unbearable.

By the time morning came, you felt like a shell of yourself. The exhaustion clung to you, but you forced yourself to get up and start the day as usual.

Minho knew.

When he kissed you goodbye before heading to work, he lingered for a moment, his hand brushing your cheek as he studied your face. But he didn’t say anything. He knew you weren’t ready to talk. Instead, he pressed a softer kiss to your forehead, whispering, “Take it easy today,” before he left.

And then it was just you and Nari.

You went about your day as normally as you could, pushing your thoughts aside for the sake of your daughter. You took her to the park, watching as she ran around with boundless energy, giggling as she chased butterflies and picked tiny flowers to hand to you.

For a little while, things felt okay.

But as you walked home, her small hand in yours, her voice filled the air as she rambled about everything on her mind, her favorite part of the park, the snack she wanted when she got home, the pretty blue bird she had seen.

And then, out of nowhere,

“Mommy, when is my daddy coming home?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

The words came so suddenly, so casually, as if she had simply asked what was for dinner. But to you, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you.

Your grip on her hand tightened slightly, and you forced yourself to stay calm.

“Why do you ask, baby?” you said softly, trying to keep your voice even.

Nari shrugged, swinging your hand as she skipped along beside you. “I dunno. I just haven’t seen him in a long time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs.

She hadn’t mentioned her father in months. Not since the last time you had told her he was working far away.

And yet, here she was, asking again.

You forced a small smile, brushing her hair back gently. “Do you miss him?”

She hummed in thought before shrugging again. “I guess. But I have Minho! He’s kinda like a daddy too.”

Your breath hitched.

You blinked rapidly, forcing back the sudden sting in your eyes as a wave of guilt crashed over you.

She had accepted Minho so easily, had found comfort in him without question. But it didn’t change the fact that her real father had no idea she even existed.

You needed to tell Chan.

And soon.

The realization clung to you like a weight on your chest the entire walk home. Each step felt heavier, the guilt gnawing at you, relentless and unforgiving.

As you reached your house, your eyes drifted across the street to Chan’s home. You lingered for a second, staring at the place where he lived, where he had unknowingly been so close to his daughter all this time.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the thought aside, just for now and helped Nari inside. She kicked off her shoes in a hurry, already racing toward her room to dig through her toys.

You sighed, rubbing your temples.

The thought followed you through the rest of the evening, settling deep in your mind, refusing to be ignored.

When Minho got home, the three of you had dinner together like usual. Nari happily chatted away between bites, and Minho shared bits and pieces of his day, cracking jokes to make her laugh.

You tried to engage. Tried to smile and eat like normal.

But Minho noticed. He always did.

After dinner, Nari ran off to watch a movie, leaving just you and Minho at the table. He continued talking about his day, but when he noticed your distant stare, the way you were poking at your plate rather than eating, he stopped mid-sentence.

“Alright,” he said, placing his chopsticks down. “What’s going on?”

You blinked, shaking yourself from your thoughts. “What?”

Minho gave you a knowing look. “You’ve been out of it all night. What happened?”

You hesitated.

But this was Minho. He had been by your side through everything, through every breakdown and moment of doubt. You knew you didn’t have to hide from him.

So, with a deep breath, you whispered, “I’m going to tell Chan.”

His expression didn’t shift in surprise, he had seen this coming. He simply nodded, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand gently.

“If that’s what you feel is right, then do it,” he said, his voice calm, steady. “And if you need me, I’ll be there.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth seeping into the cracks of your uncertainty.

You nodded. “Thank you.”

Minho smiled back, giving your hand a small squeeze before letting go.

And for the first time all day, the weight on your chest felt just a little lighter.

The next morning, Minho had the day off, which meant there was no excuse to put this off any longer.

As you sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with your fingers, you finally gathered the courage to tell him. “I’m going to talk to Chan.”

Minho, who had been brushing through Nari’s hair as she sat on the floor, looked up at you. His expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “Alone?”

You nodded. “For now. I just… I need to do this myself.”

He studied you for a moment before nodding. “Alright. I’ll stay with Nari.” His voice was steady, reassuring. He didn’t question your decision, didn’t try to talk you out of it. He simply accepted it, like he always did.

Then, as you stood up to leave, he reached for your wrist, pulling you closer just enough to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, offering a weak smile before stepping away.

The walk across the street felt longer than it should have. Every step felt heavy, your heart pounding harder with each one. When you reached Chan’s front door, you hesitated for a split second before raising your hand and knocking.

It didn’t take long for him to answer.

Chan stood there in sweatpants and a hoodie, hair a mess, eyes groggy with sleep. He had clearly just woken up, but the second he saw you standing there, all traces of exhaustion vanished. His brows furrowed in confusion, his mouth parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Hey,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “Can we talk?”

For a moment, he didn’t move, still processing the fact that you were standing at his doorstep. But then, he blinked, stepping aside to let you in.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “Yeah, of course.”

And just like that, you stepped inside, bracing yourself for the conversation that would change everything.

//

masterlist.

🚫 proofread

[taglist: @alisonyus @bowsnbang @mariteez @melanctton @candyquokka .. if you’d like to be added too let me know!]

[bunni-v1]

“Makes him wonder what you might be like with children of your own… Ah, that’s not a trail of thought he should go down too far just yet. One day, though.” AHHHH!!!! YOU DID NOT. You did not open those gates. Having some. Thoughts. 🤤 🫠

MDNI

Hehehehehe, listen it just makes sense okay! Of COURSE he’d want to have kids with someone as amazing as you! You’d make a perfect parent, and your kids would be nothing be loved and adored and cherished. The way you’re so gentle and compassionate with the little ones around the kingdom has his heart skipping a beat.

Just imagining a little version of the two of you makes his dough soften. He can’t believe he picked such a perfect partner for himself.

Oh, and making the kid is a plus. He really does wonder how many tries it’ll take. What’s the best position? He’s more than happy to add a few new ones if it heightens the likelihood of pregnancy (myth or not(I know cookies canonically can’t get pregnant okay what if i blew you up with my mind.)) Aphrodisiacs to heighten sex drive? Sure! The more you go at it the better!

He’s like an insatiable sex starved rabbit when you do decide to have kids with him. You didn’t know he was such a closet perv, but it’s not like it a bad thing.

Oh and when you ARE pregnant he won’t let you lift a finger — and he’s not gonna let you argue him on it either. You’re to be pampered and treated until the child arrives. Kings orders! Too bad, so sad!

Oh, but don’t worry, Pure Vanilla tends to you personally every time. He can’t help it, he loves taking care of you. Now that you’re all cute and carrying his little cookies, it’s even more fun!

[roamingwildflower13]

Gosh this is such a well thought out post, and reblog, not sure why it’s been reblogged, as I’ve not seen anyone ask or insinuate this but still. 

I’ve never actually really seen anyone on here blogger wise say they wish for Jikook to ‘come out’, at least not recently, if anything it is always the complete opposite. A stance of they absolutely will not, never. Or always leaving room for doubt (which I find incredibly invalidating in a different way, but still). If it’s anons asking, as long as it’s a genuine ask, and is respectful, I’d say it’s just so someone can ‘learn’ or understand what might happen if…

And I say might because none of us actually know. We can assume, but we do not know.

Therefore I want to offer a middle ground. A neutral view if you will.

I will preface by saying I have no qualification for this other than being a sociology major and a gay man. (The sociologist in me knows as humans we love a good label, it helps to define and ‘understand’). I’m certainly not au fait enough to add anything research wise to the original post.

If it helps, I can tell my ‘coming out’ story, as fun as it is! You can skip it, but here goes….the cliff notes 

I am 32, firstly, and came out when I was 27, so 6 ish years ago, before the pandemic. (Aside how has it been 5 years since the pandemic, time is truly flying). I had known I was into boys since I was little, I was always always attracted to the boys in my class, never the girls, but alas back then it was a insult to call someone gay, to say that to someone’s face just because you thought their mannerisms were a bit effeminate I guess, as mine were (stereotypical high voice, lisp, somewhat feminine features). Society was not accepting as a whole either back then. (It probably isn’t now. Gay marriage was only made legal in 2013, just over a decade ago. The year Bangtan debuted no less. We’re talking very close by history.) I was bullied, naturally, so by my teen years I tried my upmost to hide it. For example, I did art in high school and on my project folder I stuck pictures of girls (famous ones), like that would help me blend in. When I was 21 I met a girl in a coffee shop I worked at and dated her, my friends were all dating, so I did too. I did like her, she was nice, I did try, and we dated on and off for a few years. You can imagine on my part why this wasn’t working, but we tried and on the getting back together she got pregnant. It was about to change our lives, sadly though we lost the baby at 20 weeks, and if nothing else the grief tore us apart. I know we would have loved that little girl, we named her and buried her as tiny as she was. But hindsight is 20/20, and it was the catalyst that changed everything for me. Once we split I decided to move on, and firstly I acknowledged my own true feelings, that I was indeed gay. I can’t tell you how wonderful it was to be honest with myself, finally. For me, living hidden, or living a lie with my ex, was not good for my mental health, and it wasn’t for my ex either. We weren’t happy, there was no intimacy there, and that’s no good for anyone. My family mostly accepted me once I finally told them. I was incredibly grateful for that, the ones who didn’t at this point are no loss. The biggest question I get and have to navigate is if I am bi, seeing I was with my ex for years, but no I am gay. That was six years ago, as I said, and I’m at a place where I am comfortable with my sexuality and gender expression more than ever, finding a community and interests helped with that too. 

So that’s my ordinary story.

I realise of course I come from a place of privilege, a western country with mostly acceptance these days of queer folk, but not always. In fact what’s happening to many countries with a rise in right wing politics, including America is down right frightening. 

I wish we all lived in a world where we just accepted one another for whoever we are, but sadly we do not. The energy of the planet is low, and they seek to keep it low. 

What I wanted to say overall, is that although I know what it’s like to ‘come out’ as unfair as that is, it is not our place as individuals to decide what someone else should or should not do, or what is right or wrong for someone. We can educate ourselves for sure, be aware of things, but ultimately it’s not our decision to speak on matters that do not pertain to us. Reflections is right in that this process of coming out, or identity marking is not prevalent in every society, I tend to not make it my personality for example, but people do assume, and I’m okay with that. I certainly don’t explain to everyone, and will only do so if they ask nicely.

I know this is a blurred line in a ‘shipping’ space, but where I come down on this is I do not see myself as shipping two people, but supporting what I think is a very probable queer couple. All I ever want to do is support them, but I would never want to speak to their wants and needs, that’s not for me to say. 

That is my neutral ground if you will. 

I will coo till the cows come home, admire their beautiful love and bond, as frankly, it’s all I’ve ever wanted for myself, and for others. Love is everything. However, I will never impose my own view of what they should or should not do, coming down hard on either side is actually (in my opinion) incredibly invalidating. 

To anyone who truly has thought about it in terms of winning, please don’t do that. That goes back to what I said in a reblog yesterday about dopamine and fighting online, that high, that win, would certainly only be for your own benefit, or likely to get one over on other ‘ships’. It’s different of course if they themselves chose to do something, but to want that is to only want that win for yourself, and that is not fair on them. 

The part of the original anon ask, about how you would market such a relationship, is interesting in context of the show, given this ask is 3 ish years old. That and the documentary, the book, JKs solo documentary, and Jimins documentary, it all leads me to believe they want to be known together, their names synonymous. They want their bond to be seen. For what reason only they know, but it’s kinda smart, because whilst most of the fandom remains ignorant, meanwhile they can (mostly) be themselves. I will note that all of this came after the enlistment was applied for.

This does go hand in hand with another reblog re Jimin explaining Muse. The worst outcome of any of this is if they get ‘outed’, so in order not to do that, in my opinion, they use protective mechanisms. They don’t outright deny anything, not that it’s asked directly of them, but they indicate they are single, they sing love songs, female pronouns included, they (pretend) not to see each other, they say ‘bro’, and a plethora of other things. This is when people refer to the glass closet. They bang on it occasionally, see the show, test its limits so to speak, but (so far) remain protected mainly due to sheer ignorance, and homophobia. For the same reason they can be flirty on stage under the guise of ‘fan service’ , and apply to enlist together because the buddy system exists. They do, imo, use what they can in order to be themselves as much as they feel comfortable with. The band itself provides a shield so to speak, five other members whom they love to be amongst, hence why the solo era was somewhat different for them, the band was no longer there as group activities were suspended for the most part, especially in 2023. This meant they kept a low profile, as I’ve said I think it was a choice. I want to add that anyone who seeks to minimise any of their choices, especially the enlistment, is not a true fan. I’ve seen solos do this and laugh at the notion that one of the reasons they kept on the down low was the enlistment. I’d caution people because again we do not walk in their shoes, we do not know how they feel about anything, and it’s disrespectful to minimise or dismiss their relationship when the evidence is that they mean a great deal to one another.

I want to end by saying that at the end of the day, we do not know these men, I personally support what I see, and know in my heart to be true. I will always respect them and any choice they make, because it is their choice, and their right to make that for themselves despite the circumstances they find themselves in. 

The only thing I truly want for them is peace, happiness and their safety. 

Okay so, I came to this blog because I’m an Army and recently have been quite fond of Jikook’s bond. I always used to close myself off the shipping considering how toxic it gets on other platforms but I really love these two together it’s almost painful to resist. I come here in peace, and I’m asking you something. Can we open a topic about what would ACTUALLY happen if two idols of the caliber of Jimin and Jungkook confirmed having a relationship? Because so many Jikookers see the coming out as the final win, when actually it could be the contrary? Some people in the fandom are naive and don’t realize the impact, especially negative, it would have on their career. If you open this discussion I’m sure also other blogs will tune in. I beg you to view it on a much bigger scale than just the fandom shippers, let’s observe it from the point of view of their country, the industry, their reputation as a whole. And also if you were in their shoes, and your aim was to live your days with your loved one ultimately, what marketing procedures do you think would be necessary to take in order to keep your career going as well.

Thank you Anon for the question and I will try to be very careful in navigating such a topic. I've mentioned before that I will not talk about Jimin and Jungkook in regards to their private personal life, but what I can do is to focus on what is written in shipping spaces, as it's part of the fandom discourse. I will start by saying that you are asking some questions which are impossible for me to respond. I cannot put myself in their shoes as I am first of all a woman and second of all, not famous. My answer will be divided into two parts: how shippers talk about identity and more general, about sexual identity in SK, for which I will provide extensive references and I hope they can be useful in understanding the social context. I want this to be an open discussion, especially if there are people in this space who know more, who have more knowledge on this particular subject.

It seems that in general, those who ship Jimin and Jungkook do see a coming out, in the possibility that there's an actual romantic relationship, as the ultimate ''win'', just as you said. To me, that's complete ignorance and I can only situate it in the realms of problematic fantasy. As I've said before, I don't have any problems with the idea of shipping. Of course, I've noticed that a lot of jikookers call themselves supporters in order to differentiate themselves from your run of the mill shipping practice. ''You say tomato, I say tomato''. They say they will support Jimin and Jungkook no matter what, but anyone who becomes part of a community, makes connections or develops some emotional attachments towards their ship or subjects of the ship, will definitely have some strong feelings if they will encounter some ''evidence'' at some point that would disregard the way they see those people. I'm of course generalizing here, but I'm not saying this only in order to criticize them, but because it would be a normal reaction, something to be expected and each person has their own way in which they deal with those feelings. Just as I talked in my shipping post, there are positive outcomes here, such as people who gather more extensive knowledge on LGBTQ+ issues, in case they haven't done that before. But there's a shtick and of course I can only talk about what I see in international shipping spaces, which is the fact that despite doing research on this topic and trying to understand the SK political landscape, they still use a Western filter. What do I mean by that? Their understanding of sexual identity is in most cases Western and they apply that mindset when it comes to situations in countries that have a history that doesn't match the American one, which is the more prevalent. Sexual orientation has become part of someone's entire identity. It has developed over the course of the 20th century (Michel Foucault and Jeffrey Weeks have written about this) and today it's the norm. We do live in an era of globalization, but to take this idea and apply it to a context that not many of us actually know, results in a discourse that can have some colonization elements to it and leaves no room for specific Asian Queerness. It's unfortunate because all shippers could do is read more about it, if they actually call themselves supporters. Not to focus just on their ship but to actually try and understand how alternative meanings of identities work. If they had done it, in a bit more detail, perhaps they would know that one's sexual orientation does not become someone's entire identity everywhere. It's a difference between something that ''I am'' and ''I do''. The SK situation, when it comes to LGBTQ+, is influenced by Confucian values, the military service, the huge influence a family can have, but it's also about finding a community. Not everyone is the same and in this case generalization is dangerous. People can use western terminology, even fully embrace a ''coming out'' as we understand it and some of them don't, or they only do it with themselves or close friends while some engage in activism just as any part of this world. You can find more about this in a thesis written by Matthew David Arnold called Queer Korea: Identity, Tradition and Activism (2016) in which he interviewed 49 LGBTQ+ individuals over a period of time while he lived there. These are people who became his friends, acquaintances, and artists and each and every one of them has a story of their experience which has its own particularities. Arnold talks about the Social Compact which consists of the established communities in which these people live and the most important one is the family and the huge influence it can have. It also bothers me the fact that when shippers engage in such a topic, a lot of the times they are alienating, othering this entire culture and using their own Western frame as a system of reference.

To go back to your initial ask, about the jikook ship and coming out, it is ludicrous. How can shippers talk about such a thing when it comes to people whom they don't know? They observe a pattern of behavior and draw some conclusions, sometimes they have a more educated guess and other times not. But they should stick to that. They say they care about their biases, but by having this request and considering it as a win is disrespectful because a coming out is no one's business and especially not of some strangers on the internet.

I'm aware that I probably haven't given a specific response to your questions, but these are the limits in which I situate myself, but as I said in the beginning, I encourage other people to chime in.

For more insight into LGTBQ+ topics in South Korea from an academic perspective, I will leave some references here:

Song Pae Cho, Faceless Things: South Korean Gay Men, Internet, and Sexual Citizenship, 2011

Elias Alexander, Seoul's Gay Districts: Space, Place, and Identity, 2017

Joe Phillips, Joseph Yi, ''Queer Communities and Activism in South Korea: Periphery-Center Currents'', Journal of Homosexuality, 2019

Joseph Yi, Joe Phillips, ''Paths of Integration for Sexual Minorities in Korea'', Pacific Affairs, 2015

Todd A. Henry, Queer Korea, 2020

Thomas Chase, ''Problems of Publicity: Online Activism and Discussion of Same-Sex Sexuality in South Korea and China'', Asian Studies Review, 2012

Youngshik D. Bong, ''The Gay Rights Movement in Democratizing Korea'', Korean Studies, 2009

Robert Hamilton, ''Gaytrification and the re-orienting of Sexual Peripheries. The Displacement of Space and Place in South Korea's Queer Underground'', Contemporary Society and Multiculture, 2016

Tari Young-Jung Na, Ju Hui Judy and Se-Woong Koo, ''The South Korean Gender System: LGBTI in the Contexts of Family, Legal Identity and the Military'', The Journal of Korean Studies, 2014

Timothy Gitzen, The Promise of Gayness: Queers and Kin in South Korea, 2012

Jungmin Kwon, Spectacularizing the Homosexual Body: The Secret Rendezvous Among Global Gay Media, Local Straight Women, and the Media Industry in South Korea, 2014

[gothamite-rambler]

Tim was startled awake by his phone ringing. He sighed, exhausted.

Tim: It's my day off, so of course, he’d call me while I’m sleeping.

Tim answered the call, hearing Bruce's voice giving him a migraine as he spoke.

Tim: Before you ask me anything, I need to set up something.

Tim navigated to a recording app on his phone and hit the red button to record.

Tim: For the duration of this phone call, you will be recorded. This is for my protection and yours. You may speak now.

Bruce: You seriously aren't recording me, are you?

Tim: I am, it's so I have proof. And seeing as you're calling me on my day off at ten in the morning, this must be important. So let's skip past the recording part and you can tell me what you need.

Bruce: I'm in my car, so I can say this. I need you to work patrols tonight… without overtime.

Tim: What was that last part? I didn't quite hear that, and my recording didn't hear that, so I just need you to repeat it.

Bruce: I thought since you like fighting crime, you would want to work solo, and we don’t do that silly overtime.

Tim (raising his voice): Oh, I can't do that for you, Bruce. I can’t work without the extra money!

Bruce groaned, and the sound of a car horn was heard, making Tim laugh.

Bruce: Why do I even have to pay you overtime? You work for me at Wayne Enterprises!

Tim: Because I work two jobs, and unlike you, who can make money every second, I need money to afford nice things and pay rent. I’m not working two jobs, and one of them isn't paying me. I’m in my twenties, so I expect to get paid accordingly.

Bruce: I really regret that you’re the smart one in the family.

Tim: That’s fine. I’ll be out tonight, but just make sure you pay me that overtime. And I will end the recording as soon as this call ends.

Bruce (angry): …

Tim: I got all day. It’s my day off, remember?

Bruce ended the call, and Tim covered his eyes with his arm as Bernard chuckled while typing at the desk.

Bernard: You drive him crazy, you know that?

Tim (pridefully): Yeah, it feels good.

[ikkyfics]

anatomy

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: “Dave, I can study on you.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “What?” “Your muscles,” you explained, already trailing your fingertips over his chest, feeling the subtle tension beneath the skin. “Every single one in the right place. Perfect.”

Warnings: est. relationship, college!dave, college!reader, nomenclature of some (many) muscles, reader is a health area student, suggestive, language, no use of y/n

A/N: a special thanks to my dear lovely @gingerteafairy who encouraged me to post this, i love you a million times <333

You never thought Batman could have such poorly placed muscles. Shit, it was a total disrespect to such an incredible character. If Christian Bale saw that—he wouldn’t care in the slightest, but you did. Who cares if the damn doll was cheap? It wouldn’t have cost much to at least put some muscles in the right place.

Look at this oblique, you thought in disgust. It was completely ridiculous.

At least the facial muscles didn’t require too much effort to pin down. Even if it took some—okay, a lot of—imagination to actually mark each one. For a cheap doll, the plastic was sturdy enough to leave your poor fingers sore.

“I hate this,” you muttered, dropping the doll and sighing dramatically before resting your face on the table, carefully avoiding the scattered pins.

Dave, sitting beside you, smiled. He was used to your little dramatics, and he liked seeing your pouty lips; he liked biting them even more. “What happened, lovie?” he asked sweetly, leaning in to take a look at the mess on the table.

He had come straight to your house after class—tuesday study sessions were sacred. Even if, most of the time, studying was the last thing you two did. He tried, he really did, to focus on the calculations he had to do, but before he knew it, you were already pressed against him. Soft and pliant, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t dedicate his full attention to you?

But today unfolded differently. You were completely immersed in the project one of your professors had assigned: label 100 muscles on a doll—a fun, interactive way to optimize learning. Dave had found you in your room muttering things like flexor hallucis longus, masseter, vastus while clutching a Batman doll, with countless pins scattered across your bed. To be honest, it was a little scary. Not as much as the demonic images from Netter’s spread open on your shelf, but still unsettling.

“The thing is,” you lifted the doll with evident disdain, “this doesn’t have a single muscle in the right place. How am I supposed to label the soleus if it’s in the wrong spot? It’s impossible, impossible.”

Dave frowned, studying the figure. He had no idea which tiny bump was supposed to be a soleus.

“And I really need the grade for this project,” you whined, covering your face with your hands and letting out a dramatic sigh. “I need this grade, Dave.”

“Hey,” he said, gently pulling your hands away. When you didn’t look at him, he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your face. “Of course, you’re going to get this grade. You’re the smartest person I know.”

“Dave, don’t—”

“Listen to me,” he cut you off, his voice carrying that soft tone that always made your heart skip a beat.

Dave wasn’t the type to impose his words, but when he wanted to make sure you really listened, his voice carried a different weight. He wasn’t just saying pretty things—he meant them.

You felt his fingers slide behind your ear, tucking loose strands of hair away from your face. His thumb traced a brief path across your cheek before settling under your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

“You’re the smartest person I know,” he repeated, quieter now. “And I know Todd. Todd once explained String Theory to me while drinking a Pepsi.”

A short laugh escaped you, but the frustration still sat heavy in your stomach.

“Dave, this isn’t funny,” you sighed, letting your forehead drop against his chest.

“Not at all,” he agreed immediately, sliding a hand to your waist and squeezing gently. “But I also know you’re not going to lose this grade.”

You felt him lean down slightly, his nose brushing against the top of your head before his arms wrapped around you completely. A firm embrace, without hesitation. As if, just for that moment, he could carry the weight of the world for you.

And that was when your body finally relaxed for the first time in hours. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, taking in every detail of him around you. Dave was warm—he always was—and his body was solid against yours, firm and safe. You adjusted yourself closer, arms slipping around him until your hands found his back.

And that’s when your brain short-circuited.

Because as your fingers traced over his shoulders, down his arms, you felt—

Muscles.

Trapezius. Rhomboid. Biceps. Brachialis. Anconeus.

With every new discovery, you whispered their names without even realizing it. Just feeling them, each one in the right place, perfectly aligned. Unlike the deformed, infuriating doll tossed on your desk.

Dave furrowed his brows. “Are you… whispering spells? Because I was just trying to help, but—”

Your hands were on his shirt before he could finish the sentence.

“Dave.”

“Yeah?”

“Take it off.”

He blinked, completely lost. “What?”

Your patience was already running thin.

“The shirt.”

Dave looked at you for a moment, as if trying to understand what exactly was happening, but, well, you were asking him to take his shirt off. And if there was one thing he wasn’t about to do, it was question miracles.

So, with one last curious glance, he obeyed.

And when the fabric hit the floor, you just stood there, staring. Lips slightly parted as your eyes trailed up and down his body.

“Jesus,” you breathed, running a hand down your face, as if scolding yourself for not thinking of this sooner.

“Is that good or bad?”

“This is the best thing that could have happened.”

Dave blinked a few times. “Wow. I didn’t even do anything.”

“Dave, I can study on you.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “What?”

“Your muscles,” you explained, already trailing your fingertips over his chest, feeling the subtle tension beneath the skin. “Every single one in the right place. Perfect.”

And that’s how you ended up on his lap.

Dave wasn’t entirely sure how it happened—but honestly, he wasn’t complaining. One moment you were fuming over a misshapen Batman, and the next, you were fully engrossed in your own private anatomy study, straddling him, fingers tracing slow, delicate paths down his arms.

He could feel the warmth of your skin against his, a delicious contrast to the cool night breeze slipping through the window. You had said you needed to focus, and he had promised to stay still. But damn, it was hard.

Very hard.

Because for Dave, there was nothing more attractive than seeing you like this—so immersed in it, lips slightly pursed, eyes focused. You murmured the names of muscles as you ran your fingertips over them, and he felt each one respond to your touch. It was almost comical how something as simple as you studying for your class could drive him this insanely affected.

He already knew you were brilliant. He knew you took college seriously and that when you were focused, the rest of the world disappeared. But he wasn’t prepared for how… hot that could be.

Dave felt the corner of his mouth tug into a distracted smile, but it was enough to make you stop.

“Dave,” you scolded, your voice low but firm.

He blinked at you. “What?”

“Stay still.”

“I am still.”

“You smiled.”

“That doesn’t count,” he argued, a grin playing on his lips.

You sighed, but he caught the way your eyes sparkled, and, well, that was when he knew you weren’t exactly immune to this either.

Slowly, your fingers trailed up to his face. You held his chin, your eyes studying every detail with an almost reverent patience.

“Here,” you began, your voice lower now, as if you were about to reveal a secret, a finger tracing a line beside his mouth, “is where the risorius muscle is.”

Before he could ask what the hell that meant, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss there, right at the corner of his mouth.

Dave felt his breath falter at the pressure of your lips against his skin.

And then you kept going.

“And here,” your lips brushed his cheek, right where his smile was still fighting to hold on, “is the zygomaticus major.”

He swallowed hard.

You pulled back just enough to look at him again, your fingers still holding his face.

“Hm?” he managed to murmur, because, honestly, his brain was already running on safety mode.

You smiled.

“The masseter,” you whispered, kissing his jawline, your lips sliding along its sharp edge.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

“Temporalis,” you continued, pushing his curls from his face before leaning in, your lips grazing his temple now.

Dave swore he had never been more interested in anatomy in his entire life.

He opened his eyes when you looked at him again, and for a moment, all he could do was admire you. Your eyes were darker under the soft glow of the lamp, your lips slightly flushed, and the expression on your face was somewhere between concentration and amusement.

“Are you learning anything, Lizewski?”

He smiled slowly.

“More than you think.”

You smiled back but didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, a touch that was both gentle and intentional. You could feel every tiny irregularity on Dave’s skin—the defined contour, the almost imperceptible roughness of the stubble beginning to grow, the subtle tension in his muscles as he watched you. His gaze was heavy now, an intense blue that gleamed under the dim light of the room, and his glasses had slipped down his nose slightly, as they always did when he was too distracted to bother adjusting them.

His hands, which had slipped under your shirt, moved slowly, fingertips gliding over your waist as if memorizing every inch of skin. The touch wasn’t rushed or hesitant—it was firm, as if he wanted you to feel exactly what he was doing. As if he wanted to burn it into your skin.

You didn’t stop him.

Instead, you leaned even closer into him, the warmth of your bodies mixing in the room’s thick air, and lifted Dave’s chin with two fingers, forcing him to tilt his head back. His breath came out heavy, warm, and you felt the way the muscle in his neck tensed under your touch.

Your fingers slid over it, pressing right where the skin was thin enough to feel the rapid pulse of his heart. It was better than any music.

“The sternocleidomastoid,” you murmured, your voice low, laced with something that made Dave swallow hard. “It tilts and rotates the head…” Your fingers pressed a little more, your nail lightly dragging against his skin. “…and it’s also the muscle responsible for stiff necks.”

His eyes were locked onto you now, half-lidded, and for a second, he didn’t say anything. He just breathed.

“This is supposed to be a lesson?” Dave asked, his voice slow, slightly hoarse.

“Maybe,” you whispered. “But there’s one more thing.”

Before he could respond, your lips touched his neck—a slow, warm kiss, just enough to make him hold his breath. But you didn’t stop there.

Your lips parted against his skin, and you sucked lightly, deliberately, feeling the way his body tensed beneath you. The hands that had merely been resting on your waist gripped tighter, his fingers pressing into your skin, and you heard a breathy sigh escape Dave’s lips—low, drawn-out, almost a moan he tried to hold back but failed.

You pulled away slowly, satisfied with the mark you had left there, clearly visible against his fair skin.

His eyes were dark now, his chest rising and falling unevenly, and when he tried to say something, you just smiled, running your fingers softly over the fresh mark, feeling the warmth still pulsing there.

"Did I mention it's also the perfect muscle for love bites?" you asked, your voice all innocent but your eyes saying something completely different.

Dave blinked, clearly still trying to process whatever had just happened.

“Definitely not,” he managed to say, his voice rougher than before.

Your fingers continued their almost involuntary path, slowly sliding down Dave’s exposed chest, tracing over his warm skin, feeling the texture, the tension beneath your fingertips. Your gaze was fixed on the path your hands were making, as if you were studying every small muscle contraction, every tiny involuntary movement happening beneath your palm.

His abdomen rose and fell in an uneven rhythm as your fingers traced the defined planes, the skin shifting subtly under your touch. You followed the natural lines of his muscles, outlining them with almost surgical precision—the well-defined rectus abdominis, the softly sculpted obliques. He was strong, not in an exaggerated way, but in a way that made sense, as if every muscle existed to fulfill its function perfectly.

And, damn, he was beautiful.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen him like this, exposed under your meticulous attention, but familiarity didn’t make it any less hypnotic. On the contrary. It was like revisiting a favorite book and always finding something new between the lines, a detail you had missed the last time.

But watching wasn’t enough.

Your body knew that before your mind could even fully form the thought. Your lips found his skin without hesitation, at first just a chaste kiss, the mere promise of a touch. But the promise shattered too quickly. You pressed your lips against the warmth of his chest, feeling the way his muscles reacted to your touch.

Dave let out a sigh, a low sound that reverberated beneath your mouth, and you felt every minute response of his body as if conducting a real-time experiment. The way his abdomen tensed when your tongue traced a lazy path over his skin. The way his fingers tightened around your hip when your warm breath spread over his collarbone.

You knew the name of every structure moving beneath your lips.

The pectoralis major, firm under your hand when you held him, subtly contracting as your lips followed the path of the muscle fibers. The serratus anterior, tensing involuntarily as your fingers ghosted over his sides. The rectus femoris, which you felt harden beneath your hips as he adjusted under you, pressing you more firmly onto his lap.

Your fingers traveled downward, tracing the contour of his obliques until they met a line that always made you hold your breath. The transversus abdominis. The deepest muscle, the one holding everything together, the pathway to paradise that defined his body in a way that was almost criminal. You felt Dave tense beneath you, a rougher sigh slipping past his lips.

“Shit…” he exhaled, his voice low, and you smiled against his skin, your lips brushing lightly before placing a kiss right there, where the muscle still pulsed under your touch.

“I like this one,” you confessed, completely shameless, and felt his hands tighten around your waist as an involuntary response.

“I noticed,” Dave retorted, trying to sound casual but failing miserably when you pressed another kiss there, just to watch him react again.

The power you had over him was intoxicating.

And maybe that’s why you leaned in, unhurried, your mouth wandering over his abdomen, each kiss a new form of teasing. Dave was no longer just an anatomical study under your hands; he was alive, pulsing, a mess of heavy sighs and contracted muscles.

“You know you’re killing me, right?” he murmured, his voice laced with breathless laughter.

You lifted your gaze, your fingers still tracing the path your mouth had traveled. “I’m just studying.”

Dave let out a low sound, almost a suppressed groan, and you felt it when he finally gave up pretending any kind of resistance. His hands traveled up your back, firm and warm against your skin, and before you could anticipate his next move, he pulled you up.

His lips found yours with almost desperate precision, and you felt your own body dissolve into the exact pressure of the kiss, the perfect fit between the two of you.

He pulled back just enough for you to feel the warm breath against your mouth, for his eyes to capture the sharp gleam in yours.

“My turn,” he murmured, his fingers gliding up your waist, deliberately slow. “If you get to study me, I think it’s only fair I do the same.”

You didn’t have time to respond before he flipped your positions, proving that those muscles weren’t just for show, his body firm against yours, his mouth leaving a heated trail down the side of your neck. His lips brushed over the delicate curve, and you felt his breath grow heavier against your skin as he smiled, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. A firm touch, unhurried.

He wanted to savor this.

The fabric lifted slowly, the tips of his fingers tracing every inch of newly exposed skin, as if he were memorizing the path. You felt your own body react, a shiver running up your spine.

And then, your shirt slid down your arms and was discarded.

"You know the Fibonacci sequence is present in everything?" he asked, his voice low, like he was sharing a secret. "In the universe, in art… in the human body."

The shiver came before you even fully processed his words, your brain struggling to keep up with both the way his hands were exploring your body and the fact that he was talking about the Fibonacci Sequence.

Dave noticed. Of course he did.

He lifted his gaze, barely concealing his satisfaction, and let his fingers trail from the curve of your hip to the center of your abdomen, the touch so light it made you hold your breath.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you like this, and yet, something in his eyes, in the way they slowly traveled down your body, betrayed how utterly stunned he was.

You found yourself unable to say anything. The silence between you was electric, thick with everything that didn’t need to be spoken.

He was the first to break it.

"The Fibonacci spiral can be found in the shape of the eyes, the length of the bones, even in the proportions of the lips…" His voice was barely a whisper, his mouth hovering over yours without kissing you, as if giving you time to absorb every word. "But honestly?" He traced the outline of your lips with his thumb. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything follow that pattern as perfectly as you."

The air caught in your throat.

The intensity in his gaze left you unable to think, to form any coherent response. You tried—really, you did. But then Dave leaned in and pressed his lips to yours again, this time with a purpose that made your entire body forget any anatomical concept that had ever existed.

"You have no idea how attractive you sound when you talk like that," you murmured, your voice lower than you intended.

The corner of his mouth curved, slow. Almost dangerous.

"Like what?"

You swallowed hard. "Like… you’re analyzing me and liking what you see."

Dave let out a low, husky laugh, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

"I'm not analyzing," he corrected, his hands sliding up your back, fingers tracing the warmth of your skin as if trying to commit every curve to memory. "I'm appreciating."

You had a second to process that—to feel your skin prickle under his touch, to drown in the heat, the overwhelming closeness—before Dave claimed your mouth again.

The kiss was hungry, slow and deep, and you felt the last remnants of restraint dissolve completely. Every touch of his left a trail of fire on your skin. The world outside the room ceased to exist—there was only this, only sensation, only the press of hands and the heat curling between you like something inevitable.

When he finally pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his gaze met yours, and his smile was soft but full of intent.

"Is this still part of your study?"

You couldn’t hold back your laugh, your chest rising and falling in a shaky breath. Your fingers traced along his collarbone, down to his shoulder, exploring the muscles still tense beneath his skin.

"Actually," you murmured, your gaze flickering to his lips before meeting his eyes again, "I think the theoretical part is over."

Dave tilted his head, his fingers dipping deeper along the curve of your waist.

"Good," he said, voice low. "Because I was really looking forward to the practical part."

[prettyangellllll]

Makeout

Summary: After months of being apart, Rafe Cameron and the reader finally come face to face. With no words needed, the tension between them is palpable. After so much time apart, the yearning and desire finally boil over into a passionate kiss that neither can hold back.

Warning: Mature themes, heavy kissing, intense longing.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

---

It had been far too long since you’d seen him. You’d lost track of time, weeks bleeding into months, filled with uncertainty and the heavy ache of missing someone who you never thought would leave. You had heard rumors, whispers about him being gone, about his absence, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe them. You thought about him constantly, tried not to think about the things you wished you’d said when he walked away.

But now, here he was.

The door creaked open, and Rafe’s silhouette appeared in the doorway, his figure framed by the dim light from the hallway. You froze, your heart skipping a beat. It was like you had been waiting for this moment forever. The man you thought about every day, the man who haunted your dreams and filled the space in your chest where you felt empty.

He looked different, but not in a way you could easily pinpoint. There was something sharper in his eyes, a rawness that had only intensified with time. His gaze swept over you like he was searching for something—answers, maybe, or perhaps just reassurance that you were still here, still the same.

Neither of you spoke at first, as if the silence between you had its own weight, too heavy for words.

Rafe stepped inside, and before you knew it, he was right in front of you, so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. It made your stomach twist with anticipation, the tension almost unbearable. His breath was shaky, his eyes flicking to your lips for a fraction of a second, making your heart race even faster.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured, his voice low, rough around the edges.

You swallowed hard, not sure if you were ready to confront everything that had been building between you two. His absence had been like a storm, ripping through your life, and now that he was back, the air around you was charged with electricity.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you replied, your voice unsteady despite your best effort. “You’ve been gone, Rafe. What was I supposed to do?”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them. He took another step closer, closing the distance until you could feel the brush of his chest against yours, the warmth of his body pulling you in. He lifted a hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek, his touch so gentle it made your heart ache even more.

“I’m here now,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. His lips hovered just above yours, the closeness almost unbearable.

Without warning, he closed the gap. His lips crashed onto yours, hungry and desperate, as if he’d been starved for this moment. The kiss was urgent, as though he couldn’t get close enough, as though he needed to feel you, to know you were real. Your hands found their way to his shirt, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened, the pressure of his lips sending a shock of warmth straight through your body.

Rafe’s hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart matching your own, the electricity between you both undeniable. The kiss was fierce, all pent-up desire and frustration, as if you both had been waiting for this moment forever.

His other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss even further. His lips were insistent, demanding, but there was a tenderness in the way he touched you, like he was afraid of losing you again. The kiss slowed for a moment, turning softer, more gentle, as if he was savoring the feeling of being close to you again.

But the intensity didn’t fade, not entirely. Rafe’s hands slid under your shirt, warm and familiar, tracing the curve of your skin like it was the first time he’d ever touched you. His fingers dug into your waist, and you felt every inch of him, his presence consuming you, making everything else in the world fade into the background.

Your breaths came in shallow gasps, your body pressing against his in perfect sync. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this way—this full, this alive, like everything had fallen back into place. The ache in your chest, the longing that had been there for so long, started to ease as you gave yourself to him, losing yourself in the kiss, in the way he made you feel whole again.

Rafe pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you gasping for air. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale. You could see the raw desire in his eyes, but there was something else there, too—a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

“Don’t leave me again,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely audible, as though the words were a secret he couldn’t keep any longer.

You reached up, cupping his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your fingertips. “I won’t,” you promised, your voice soft but firm.

[pinkpastels113]

pop star x bodyguard au

for @writerallie

Adrenaline rushes through her veins as Galinda moves across the stage, the lights overhead brilliant and warm and colorful and she knows she looks dazzling as she dances, singing to her own song with the earpieces that keep her on track. She giggles through the chorus in all the right places, makes that one voice change that makes her fans go wild, and lets her eyes stray to the side, to that dedicated spot to the left near the closest floor seats, to make sure that the sole person in this entire sold out stadium there for her is listening, watching her performance.

Elphaba, as always, stands there, in her pressed black suit and stoic expression. Her clear steady gaze meets Glinda’s, never leaves even as Glinda shoots her a dimpled smile before (satisfied,) focuses on an arbitrary fan in the crowd, winking at them just so they can catch it on their phone cameras. That intense stare burns a trail right to the tips of her toes in their heels, encouraging her to put on a show more so than any of the other tens of thousands of people in that stadium. It makes her excited to (rather than prepared to). It carries her through the rest of the songs, the rest of the setlist. 

The material of her cutout dress glitter, sparkling brighter than the stars in the evening sky that are trying to peek through. Her own voice sounds strange in her head, though louder than the many others singing along, which are vying to bleed into one with the way they are perfectly in sync with her lyrics. Glinda’s hold on her microphone is gentle but firm as she gives everyone what they want, paid for, looked forward to, traded plans with, for that night. 

Glinda loves being a pop star. She has always dreamed of being an artist ever since she first held a karaoke microphone toy at seven, and now, fifteen years later, she’s finally made it. The energy of the crowd brings a flush to her cheeks, their open adoration causing her heart to soar, and their connection to her own feelings making her so validated and seen. Wanted. Perfection. Though it oftentimes can be lonely and suffocating and overwhelming, she wouldn’t trade it for the world. She’s worked too hard to reach that point. Sacrificed so much. 

She finishes off the choreography with her backup dancers, skipping across the stage to the inconspicuous mark identified with a dollop of pink tape. Glinda poses, as rehearsed, her breath tumbling out in soft pants, sweat beading on her forehead, hair slightly damp and dark and returning to their natural waves. 

(She hopes her makeup’s still flawless though.)

Glinda glances, again, to the left.

Elphaba’s smile is small but still decipherable, only there for Glinda to pinpoint due to the amount of time that they’ve spent together. The corner of her lips quirk up the tiniest bit in fondness (and if Glinda allowed herself to dare to hope, with pride, too), and for some reason it makes Glinda’s eyes sting with unshed tears.

Her chest suddenly feels tight, like there is a weight on it, but Glinda ignores it as she turns back to address the audience. She curtsies while everyone else bow deeply to signal the end of the show, grinning widely while the cheers heighten into a deafening roar. The lights flash elegantly into synthetic rainbows, showering across the stadium not unlike shimmering bubbles. Taking a few minutes of reprieve to catch her breath and make sure that the noise isn’t a danger to her poor eardrums, she takes out her IEMs to give her expected speech.

“I had such a fun time with you all here tonight! The Emerald City really holds such a special space in my heart, and well. I hope your memories here in the past couple hours were as beautiful as mine for those years spent at Shiz, if not more. Thank you all for coming to the show and spending the evening with me, and see you in the next! Now I must go,” she finishes with a delicate chuckle, “Before I float away in all the goodness everyone has bestowed upon me.”

When she’s finally off that platform under the pressure of tens of thousands of Ozians, Elphaba is there with her pink converse. Glinda is grateful for the bit of privacy the darkness beneath the stage provides as she’s pretty sure the tabloids would have a field day printing articles about the gripping of her bodyguard’s shoulders as she carefully removes Glinda’s heels for her.

It’s fine, Glinda thinks, as the heat in her cheeks refuses to fade. It’s just a caring gesture. Nothing more to it. Any reasonable person with a heart would understand that she probably requires a change of shoes after two and a half hours of elaborate dancing on the pinches of her feet. Even if she’d never ask for it. 

She shouldn’t read into it much. Couldn’t. It’s not like Elphaba will say anything substantial if she prods.

“Just doing my job, princess,” Elphaba would always reply in that dry tone that Glinda foolishly, determinedly, wishes to crack someday down the line. 

(And princess as in “pop princess.” As the public deems her. Presumably.)

Elphaba ties the laces, accentuating them into double bunny ears. She straightens into her full height, placing a hand on the small of Glinda’s back, right there in that spot where her glittering dress gave way to a slip of skin, guiding her back out into the crowd for the final stretch of public attention. 

She smiles. And waves, as expected. For the cameras, for the eager faces, for the anticipation and the admiration and the happiness that it provides others. 

“Glinda, we love you!”

“You did so amazing, I love you so much!”

“I’m such a huge fan!”

“It was perfect, Glinda! The best show ever!”

“Aah! Glinda!”

“You look so beautiful!”

Elphaba keeps her steps quick, steadily pushing Glinda along even as fans try to reach out, swiftly inserting her body between them to block their line of sight. While Glinda makes it her day’s mission to please the public, Elphaba could not care less. 

(There had been instances where she had to scold Elphaba for being particularly aggressive.)

A young girl cried her name and Glinda turned, pausing to pay her a compliment and genuine smile. She already knew that Elphaba would be upset at her for doing so but she crouched down to hug the girl anyway, answering her questions about some of the theatrics of the performance.

“We have to go, Glinda. The car is waiting.”

Despite herself, Glinda rolled her eyes. “It can wait for a little longer.”

Something shifts in Elphaba’s gaze, and her hand twitches at her side for a split second. A rare moment of deviation of her cool facade but Glinda would gladly take it. It’s a small victory. 

She decides to not push her luck any further than that, though, and reaches the car without additional waylay. Elphaba holds the door open for her, Glinda sliding past with a purposeful brush to her wrist, before ducking in herself. She slams the door shut behind them.

The vehicle begins to move.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Elphaba huffs, tossing Glinda’s heels on the opposite seat. There is a bottle of water tucked into a compartment which Elphaba picks up to shove at Glinda. “You don’t know what could have happened.”

“She was a child!” Glinda protests. She wrenches open the cap to gulp a few mouthfuls to hydrate her throat. Then hums a bit to soothe her voice. “Nothing could have happened.”

“It’s my job to prevent you from anything happening, so I think I should have a say on whether or not it could have. Happened.”

“Like there would not have been plenty of time for you to do something if it had.” Glinda peers up at Elphaba from beneath her lashes, resting her chin on her hand. “Did you have fun, Elphie?”

Elphaba glances past Glinda’s shoulder to the streets cruising out the window. “It’s not-”

“Did you,” Glinda says, punctuating her question, because Lurline, she was so sick of Elphaba skating and avoiding, “Have fun?”

“I don’t see how that would have mattered. It’s not like I had a choice on the matter of attending.”

“Just answer the damn question.” Good thing the privacy screen is up between them and the driver.

Elphaba pursed her lips. Glinda can see her debating with herself on whether or not to indulge her but Glinda had already seen the display of affection after the last song. And she knows that Elphaba knows too. She just hopes for a confirmation, and a quiet extension of something beyond strictly professional in this weirdly tense in between of their relationship.

“Perhaps.”

And that alone brought her more joy than the entirety of the performance that evening.