#how will it fit that's what your imagination is for

[sawdust-emperor]

The entire vibe around Emilia Perez is strange. Part of that is because a lot of people only learned it even existed because it beat out Wicked at some award show - sometimes creative types get acclimated to fucking bizarre premises and don't realize how strange it all comes together from the outside.

The movie is about a transgender woman? Yeah! Cool! Love those!

The movie is about a drug cartel lord looking to make amends for the many people hurt by said cartel lord's actions? Fuck yeah! Love those.

The movie is a musical? Cool! Yeah it's been a good season for musicals.

Now, blend that all together.

Immediately you have a problem: the director said the streets of Mexico were not how he envisioned it in his head, so they went to Paris because it better matched what he imagined for his movie on Mexico. He called it a stylistic choice. Weird. But maybe it comes together.

The drug cartels IRL are a concentrate of desperation, cruelty, and violence - hundreds of thousands of people have gone missing or been harmed or even killed by the cartels in the past two decades. The drugs winning the war on drugs has an incredible human cost all the way up. There is a political category in Mexico made up of relatives of people who simply went missing due to cartels. A cartel lord is an incredibly complex character to write about, especially one who wants to make amends for past harm. Mainly because there would be a LOT of harm to tangle with, a lot of which can never be undone.

This already incredibly complex, multi-dimensional character is then shunted into the fourth and fifth dimensions by being made transgender, in Mexico.

And then it's a musical. On top of all of that, they're having to write lyrics that RHYME over musically-interesting backing tracks.

The actual execution of the idea is rendered a nightmare by having to manage all of these delicate topics in a way that the intended audience will find palatable.

But hey, maybe it still works, so who is the intended audience? The transgender experience on Tumblr is made by and FOR trans people. The memes are different than the memes your stereotypical Gay-Straight alliance club at a random highschool in the MidWest makes. Emilia Pérez seems to have been made for virtue-signallers at award shows who want to say they support trans and Mexican art but don't want to spend much time watching any, so they slap the two together to save time. Now nobody can complain! Not ALL of the winners are white now! This is not at all the fault of the lead actress, who is a trans woman, or really any of the actors involved - the root of the problem is the IDEA. The writing. The directorial choices (some of the songs are... a little rough). The actors did what they could with what they were given, but holy fuck they were given a LOT and simultaneously not enough.

It is the equivalent of being asked to untangle spun glass. It's such an ambitious idea that it seems manic when you try to actually analyze it. And don't forget - it's also a musical!

And the understanding I've come to from discussion is that they didn't actually need this woman to be a drug cartel lord. They could have made her a shitty, absent father who transitions and realizes she was shitty because she was so unhappy, and seeks to make amends with her children - they could have made her LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE not tied to such enormous violence. They didn't use it very well! They didn't touch the tough parts of the conversation they so desperately gestured at from a distance. It's like it was made especially for the awards people to say 'what a brave movie!' like it gets a gold star for the ambition alone rather than the C- it should have gotten for inviting and then failing to serve so many serious ideas, starting with a Mexican movie filmed in Paris because Mexico didn't fit the vibes of the movie about Big Important Things in Mexico. It's condescending. You put all of these together - and then you ALSO make it a MUSICAL.

wait a bunch of ppl ( in mexico i belive) got togheter and made a mini movie where everyone is poorly pretending to be french in retaliation for the dogshit emilia perez musical this is awesome tjhey all have little mustaches drawn on with sharpie and are spealing the worst french ever

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even litteler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

Let me know what you think! 😚🩷

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonhells-x

Comment to be added 🐝🫧

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[goldfades]

family ties | chapter one, DAYLIGHT | burrow⁹

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference!

FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.7k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | the youngest kelce has spent her whole life navigating the chaos of her famous last name, always lingering in the background while her brothers took center stage. but when travis falls for taylor swift, she suddenly finds herself feeling like a third wheel in her own family. and after your heartbreak with an nba player, you never thought you'd find love again.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | just normal prologue stuff! kelce family bantering, mentions of jayson tatum, olivia h mention (IT WAS FOR THE PLOT I SWEAR), heartbreak (but no graphic descriptions), nothing else!

⟢ ┈ ev's notes: okay listen guys i had to think of a random basketball player and the first one i thought of was jayson tatum. if ur not attracted to him, just like... imagine someone else but the celtics are not mentioned so... it's fine!!!!! it's a minor little detail but yeah!

also, i might change some stuff that was from the OG fic just because it doesn't fit the plot i've made LOL. enjoy!

You were an accident in every possible way.

Born an astounding eight years after Travis, nearly eleven after Jason, you weren’t exactly planned. By the time you came along, your parents had been convinced they were done, their hands already full with two loud, competitive boys who spent more time wrestling in the backyard than sitting still. And then—there was you.

A baby sister in every sense of the word.

Your brothers treated you like some kind of rare, delicate thing at first, unsure what to do with you other than stare into your crib and poke at your tiny hands. But that didn’t last long. Before you could even walk, Jason was letting you sit on his lap while he played video games, and Travis had appointed himself your unofficial bodyguard, glaring at anyone who so much as breathed in your direction.

You grew up surrounded by chaos—loud dinners, backyard football games that almost always ended in someone getting tackled too hard, and a house full of laughter. Your parents tried their best to raise you with the same principles that had shaped your brothers, but you were different from the start.

Where Jason was responsible and steady, you were restless. Where Travis was loud and the life of the party, you were observant.

It wasn’t that you were quiet—no one raised in a Kelce household could be described as quiet—but you learned early on how to move through the world a little differently. Being the youngest meant you had to be quick-witted, fast on your feet, and always ready to hold your own. If you didn’t, you’d get run over.

By the time you hit high school, you had learned how to use your last name to your advantage. It got you free drinks at parties, easier conversations with teachers, and a built-in reputation before you ever had to prove yourself. But it also came with expectations—the kind that lingered over you like a shadow.

People expected you to be just like your brothers.

Maybe a little wild, maybe a little reckless. Definitely athletic. Definitely loud.

And you were some of those things.

You were an athlete, sure—your dad would’ve had an aneurysm if you weren’t—but not in the way people wanted. You had a sharp competitive streak, but you never cared about being the best. You played because it was fun, because it was expected, because you liked the feeling of winning, but you never had dreams of making it big. Not like Jason. Not like Travis.

And as for being reckless? You were a Kelce, so it was in your blood. But you were also smart. Calculated. Where Travis would throw himself into anything just to see what would happen, you thought three steps ahead. You weren’t scared of getting into trouble, but you were good at avoiding it.

That was the thing about growing up the way you did—watching your brothers carve their paths before you. You learned how to navigate things differently. You let them be the loudest people in the room while you played the long game, slipping through cracks unnoticed until you wanted to be noticed.

You didn’t date much in high school—not seriously, anyway. Not because people didn’t try (being a Kelce came with its perks), but because most boys were too intimidated by the idea of dating Jason and Travis Kelce’s little sister. You never really minded. Most of the guys at your school weren’t worth your time, anyway.

But you did notice the way people looked at you.

The way guys wanted to say they had a shot with you, even if they never tried. The way girls sometimes whispered about you, speculating if you were actually as down-to-earth as you pretended to be. The way teachers expected you to either be a slacker or a prodigy, like there was no in-between.

You weren’t sure when exactly you started feeling like an enigma—like people had decided who you were before you even had a chance to figure it out for yourself.

Maybe it was when your friends started bringing you to parties just because your last name got you through the door. Maybe it was when people started assuming you were only where you were because of your family. Maybe it was when you realized that, no matter what you did, you’d always be compared to the brothers who came before you.

By the time you graduated, you had perfected the art of keeping people at a distance. You knew how to smile just enough to be approachable, how to joke just enough to make people like you. But you also knew how to keep things yours.

And so you did.

You left home with the intention of making a name for yourself—outside of football, outside of the Kelce legacy. You weren’t running away from it, exactly. You just needed something that was yours alone.

And for the most part, you succeeded.

You built a life that had nothing to do with your last name. You found your own friends, your own career, your own world. You managed to exist outside of the NFL bubble, despite how often it tried to pull you back in. And for years, that was enough.

You were nineteen when you met Jayson Tatum.

Nineteen and reckless in the way only someone on the verge of something monumental can be—when success feels inevitable, and the world hasn’t yet taught you how cruel it can be. You had grown up in the shadows of your last name, in the periphery of stadium lights, in the echoes of your brothers’ roaring crowds. But Jayson was the first person who made you feel like the center of something.

You weren’t naïve. You knew what it meant to love someone like him—someone whose name was already in the rafters, whose presence carried weight before he even walked into a room. He was smooth, confident, charming in that way that made you want to believe him. And maybe that was the problem: you did.

It started fast, the way these things always do. Courtside seats, late-night flights, whispered phone calls from different time zones. He made you feel special, called you his “genius,” said he had never met someone like you before. But love with him always came with conditions. He loved you, but he wanted you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into the spaces left between his career, his schedule, his life. And you tried. God, you tried. You sat in the stands, smiled for the cameras, learned the rhythms of his world even when he never bothered to learn yours.

And it was never enough.

It was always push and pull, a constant cycle of breaking and rebuilding. He would tell you he couldn’t do it anymore, that you were too much, that he needed someone who understood his life. And then weeks later, he’d be back, whispering apologies, promising he had figured it out this time. And you—stupid, hopeful, nineteen, then twenty, then twenty-one—kept believing him.

Until December 2022. The last time. The worst time.

You had always been careful, always known how to exist just outside the spotlight, but this time, the breakup wasn’t just yours. It was public. Messy. Everywhere. Headlines dissecting your relationship, tabloids picking apart your heartbreak like it was something they were entitled to. Your face plastered across the internet, grainy photos of you leaving restaurants, ducking into cars, standing alone in a crowd. Strangers speculating about you, about him, about what went wrong, about whether you were as heartbroken as they hoped you’d be.

And the worst part? You were. You just didn’t want them to know it.

You had never cared about fame—not like that, not in the way the world suddenly seemed to demand from you. You weren’t built for it, for the attention, for the scrutiny, for the way people suddenly decided you were interesting now that you were broken.

It was the lowest you had ever been.

After that, you buried yourself in work, in building something no one could take from you. You stopped trusting the cameras, stopped giving interviews, stopped letting people in. And love? Love became something you didn’t have time for. Something you couldn’t afford.

Not until Joe. But that was another story.

⟢ JULY 2023

The Kelces did the Fourth of July the same way they did everything else—loud, chaotic, and with enough food to feed an army.

The backyard was still a mess from the day’s events. Empty plates stacked on tables, beer bottles scattered across the deck, remnants of water balloons forgotten in the grass. The kids had long since crashed, curled up in the living room after a full day of running around, and your parents had finally turned in for the night. That left just the three of you—Jason, Travis, and you—lingering in the kitchen, picking at the last of the food and settling in for what was, by tradition, gossip hour.

Jason was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking half-exhausted, half-amused as he nursed what was probably his final beer of the night. Kylie had gone upstairs an hour ago, throwing a “don’t let him stay up too late” over her shoulder before disappearing. Travis was still riding the high of a long day—barefoot, tanned from the sun, and grinning like he knew something you didn’t.

You, for your part, were perched on the counter, sipping a Coke because you had a feeling one of you needed to remain at least somewhat coherent.

“So, uh,” Travis started, reaching for the last deviled egg on the platter. “Speaking of cool people, guess who I started talking to?”

Jason shot him a tired look. “Oh, here we go.”

You glanced between them. “What do you mean, talking to?”

Travis grinned. “Taylor Swift.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jason groaned, running a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, Trav.”

“What?” Travis said, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s not a big deal.”

You snorted. “You just casually dropped Taylor Swift into the conversation like it’s the weather. That’s not normal.”

Jason pointed at you. “Exactly. Thank you.”

Travis rolled his eyes, shoving the deviled egg into his mouth. “It’s not like that. We’ve just been texting. I shot my shot, and what do you know? The Kelce charm works.”

Jason looked unimpressed. “Define ‘texting.’”

Travis chewed thoughtfully. “Like… texting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Travis.”

He smirked. “Okay, fine. I invited her to a game. She didn’t come, but she thought it was funny. We started talking. She’s cool as hell.”

You stared at him, processing. “Hold on. You shot your shot with Taylor Swift—arguably the biggest pop star in the world—by inviting her to a football game?”

Travis shrugged. “I mean, yeah.”

Jason huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I hate that it worked.”

You leaned forward, intrigued now. “Wait, so what do you guys talk about?”

Travis grinned. “Oh, you know. Life. Music. Football. Friendship bracelets.”

Jason made a strangled noise. “I swear to God—”

“I’m serious!” Travis held up his hands. “She thought it was funny! That’s what started it, actually.”

You narrowed your eyes, skeptical. “And how often are you guys texting?”

Travis took a sip of his beer, clearly stalling.

“Travis.”

He sighed dramatically. “Every day. Okay? Happy?”

Jason looked at you, then back at him. “Holy shit. You like her.”

Travis scoffed. “Of course I like her, she’s Taylor fuckin’ Swift.”

“No,” you cut in, pointing at him. “Not just, like, ‘fan’ like her. You actually like her.”

Travis hesitated. And that was all you needed to see.

Jason whistled low, shaking his head. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “Or… it’s gonna be the greatest thing to ever happen to you.”

Travis gave you a look, something half-serious beneath all the usual bravado. “You think?”

You shrugged. “I think you have a long road ahead of you if you actually wanna date Taylor Swift. But if anyone’s got the balls to do it, it’s you.”

Travis sat back, considering that. Then he smirked. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Jason groaned. “Oh God.”

You hopped off the counter, stealing the beer out of Travis’s hand and taking a sip. “I can’t wait for Mom to find out.”

Travis laughed, shaking his head. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

And just like that, the topic shifted—because that was the thing about being a Kelce. No matter how big the news, how crazy the story, at the end of the day, you were just family. Talking shit in the kitchen, making fun of each other, and watching history unfold in real time.

The whole thing kind of unraveled in front of you.

One minute, Travis was dropping Taylor Swift’s name into a conversation like it was nothing, and the next, she was there. Not in a surreal, once-in-a-lifetime, see-her-from-a-distance kind of way—but in the real way. The kind where she was suddenly just… around. Sitting across from you at dinner, feet tucked under her on the couch, sipping a drink at the same backyard parties you had been going to your whole life.

It wasn’t weird, not exactly. It was just happening.

You had been close to fame before, obviously. Jason and Travis had built their careers in the public eye, and you had spent your whole life in and around that world, brushing shoulders with athletes and celebrities who treated your last name like a golden ticket. You knew how to navigate it, how to smile politely and act like it didn’t phase you.

But this was different.

Because this wasn’t just fame. This was Taylor Swift—and she wasn’t just a headline or a name on a stadium marquee. She was here, in your world, existing in it like she belonged. And the strangest part? She kind of did.

You liked her. She was easy to like. Funny, quick-witted, smarter than people probably even realized. She had this way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room when she talked to them. Even you, at times, when she wasn’t entirely preoccupied with Travis.

And, well. That was the thing, wasn’t it?

Because she was preoccupied with Travis.

That was the whole point.

She wasn’t your friend. She wasn’t coming around to hang out with you. She was here for him. And that was fine. It was great, actually. You had never seen your brother like this before—completely, stupidly, out-of-his-mind happy. He glowed around her, and you were happy for him.

But somewhere along the way, you started to notice it.

The third wheel feeling.

It wasn’t obvious at first. Not in the beginning, when everything was still so new and exciting and unbelievable.

But then came the dinners where you felt like a spectator to their conversations. The trips where you ended up walking three steps behind them. The inside jokes you weren’t a part of, the glances they shared across rooms like they were in on some secret that you weren’t.

And sure, Travis had always been larger than life. His presence had always been something you had to navigate around. But now? Now, there was them. And you? You were just… there.

It got to the point where even your nieces—who were still young enough to have no filter—started noticing. You’d barely sat down at one of your parents’ Sunday dinners when Wyatt, with all the innocence of a child, looked up at you and asked, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

You had laughed, mostly out of shock, but the sting was still there. And then it happened again. And again.

And that was how Elliot became your best friend.

At just over a year old, she was the only one who didn’t ask why you were always alone, or where your mystery boyfriend was, or when you were going to bring someone home like Travis had. Instead, she was just happy to exist beside you, happy to let you carry her around like a little security blanket when you needed an excuse to step away from them.

You spent more time with her than you did with the adults most nights, letting her babble nonsense at you while you tuned out the rest of the room.

--

Joe Burrow wasn’t born into greatness.

He was born into a world where nothing was guaranteed, where talent didn’t always mean success, where hard work didn’t always lead to the dream. He grew up watching his father grind his way through the football world, moving from coaching job to coaching job, never staying anywhere long enough to feel settled. He understood from a young age that football wasn’t just a game—it was survival. It was everything.

But for most of his life, Joe wasn’t the guy. He wasn’t the five-star recruit, the kid whose name carried weight before he even stepped on the field. He was good—great, even—but great didn’t always mean enough. Ohio State was supposed to be his shot, his moment, the place where he proved himself. Instead, it was where he sat on the bench, waiting for a chance that never came, watching other guys take the field while he tried to convince himself it wasn’t slipping away from him.

There were nights he thought about giving it up. That maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. That maybe football had already given him all it was going to. But he wasn’t built to quit, and when LSU came calling, he took the leap.

That was the moment everything changed.

LSU wasn’t just an opportunity—it was a resurrection. It was the first time he felt like the guy, like he wasn’t just taking up space on a roster but actually belonged there. The game slowed down, the doubt faded, and for the first time in his life, he thought: Maybe I can actually do this. Maybe I can be great.

Then came 2019. The season. The Heisman. The national championship. The moment his life shifted from maybe to inevitable. He went from overlooked to undeniable, from backup to first overall pick, from fighting for a shot to standing at the top of the football world.

And somewhere in all of that, there was Olivia.

She had been there from Ohio State, through the struggles, through the late nights spent questioning everything. She was safe, steady, someone who knew him before everything changed. And for a while, that was enough. They built a life together in the in-between spaces of his career—through the transfer, through LSU, through the draft, through the move to Cincinnati.

But something had shifted along the way. Maybe it was the fame, the pressure, the way football consumed everything in its path. Maybe it was the fact that he had spent so long chasing this dream that he didn’t know how to slow down, didn’t know how to be the kind of man who could put something else—someone else—first.

Or maybe they had just grown into different people.

The love had been real. That was never a question. But real didn’t always mean forever, and when the cracks started to show, neither of them could ignore them. The long distance, the late nights, the feeling of being together but not really together. Football had always been his first love, and Olivia had always understood that. But understanding didn’t make it easier.

By the time the breakup happened, it felt inevitable. A quiet ending, no messy headlines, no dramatic fallout. Just two people who had spent years trying to make something work, finally realizing it wasn’t meant to.

Joe had never been one for public spectacle, had never been the guy who wanted his love life picked apart. But that didn’t stop people from talking. From wondering when he’d date again, who he’d be seen with, what kind of woman would fit into the world he had built.

But he wasn’t looking. Football was still everything, still the thing that took up all the space in his life.

At least, until you.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@chriszgirl92

@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug

@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never

@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned

@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27

@funkenniffler

[badasoneandonly]

𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌 𝘔𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 || 𝘏𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕-𝘏𝘖 × 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘞𝘤: 1,550k

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺:

Your quiet neighbor, Hwang In-ho, secretly obsesses over you, eliminating anyone who gets too close. When you discover his dark secret, you try to escape, but he always finds you. Realizing there's no way out, you surrender to his twisted love, trapped forever.

𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘙𝘌: !𝘠𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙𝘌¡ 𝘐𝘕𝘏𝘖! 𝘖𝘉𝘚𝘌𝘚𝘚𝘐𝘝𝘌¡ 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘓𝘌𝘙, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘌𝘋𝘠, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘚𝘓𝘐𝘊𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘈 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘛𝘞𝘐𝘚𝘛, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘐𝘊 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘎𝘖𝘙𝘌 (𝘚𝘖𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍)

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦�� (𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘮) 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥... I would recommend listening to the music.

You were the kind of person who unknowingly captivated others, drawing them in with your warmth and kindness. Your smile was effortless, your laugh easy to find, and you didn't notice the effect it had on those around you. You were oblivious to the way people gravitated toward you, to the way they lingered longer than necessary in your presence. For you, it was simply normal. People came and went in your life- nothing too significant, nothing out of the ordinary. But for one person, everything about you was extraordinary.

Hwang In-ho, your quiet, reserved neighbor, had been watching you for a long time. You didn't realize it, but he had taken an interest in your life far beyond anything you could have imagined. He memorized your habits, knew when you came and went, what you liked to eat, and who you spent your time with. Most importantly, he made sure to remove anyone who posed even the slightest threat to your attention.

It started small, with little things you wouldn't have thought twice about. Casual conversations in the hallways, brief greetings when you passed each other in the building, nothing out of the ordinary. But over time, you began to notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long, how his voice became slightly deeper whenever he spoke to you. And yet, you didn't think much of it. He was just a neighbor, someone you occasionally spoke with. You didn't know that behind that calm, collected exterior was a man consumed by obsession. It wasn't long before the disappearances started.

At first, you didn't think much of it. Daniel, the friendly coworker who had expressed interest in taking you out for coffee, had suddenly stopped coming to work. You asked your manager about him, but she simply shrugged and told you he'd moved. That was odd, but life went on.

Then it happened again. Jae, the guy who always helped you out at the gym, suddenly wasn't around anymore. You asked about him, but no one had seen him for days. No one could explain where he went. It was strange, but you figured he must've had his reasons.

And then, there was Jinwoo, the cute barista at the cafe you frequented. You'd barely noticed the way his eyes sparkled whenever you came in, or the way he nervously tried to start conversations with you. But when you showed up one evening for your usual order, he wasn't there. A new barista greeted you instead, but when you asked about Jinwoo, the response was the same-he'd quit. Moved away. The same strange feeling cropt Into your chest, but you ignored it. You never saw the pattern. The pieces never fit together.

In-ho, however, saw everything.

He always there, watching from the shadows, ensuring that no one got too close to you. When someone lingered too long or dared to approach you with intentions that weren't pure, he made sure they vanished. He wasn't cruel, no. He was simply protecting you, ensuring that nothing or no one would take you from him.

You never noticed. Not until it was too late.

One evening, you were sitting on your couch, enjoying a quiet night in. The city buzzed outside your window, but inside, all was peaceful. You were so absorbed in your thoughts when there came a knock at the door-sharp, deliberate.

You opened the door to find in-ho standing there, his usual stoic expression in place. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of unease, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. He was your neighbor, after all.

"In-ho? What's up?" you asked, your voice warm as you greeted him.

"I brought you something," he said, his voice steady, almost too calm.

"Oh, you didn't have to," you replied, still not picking up on the subtle tension in the air. You gestured for him to enter, stepping aside.

He held out a small, remarkable box. "Please. Just open it."

You gave him a puzzled glance but took the box anyway. "Alright, let's see what you've got." You sat down at your table and began to unde the ribbon.

But as soon the lid was lifted, the air seemed to freeze.

Inside the box was something you never could have imagined-a severed head, blood still fresh, Its eyes wide open in a frozen expression of terror. You recognized him immediately. It was Jinwoo, the barista.

Your body went cold, your mind struggling to make sense of what you were seeing. The box slipped from your hands, landing with a dull thud on the floor. You staggered backward, your heart pounding in your chest.

"In-ho..." you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering, his expression still as composed as ever.

"I told you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice low, almost tender. "I'll do anything to keep you safe. I can't let anyone else get close to you."

Your mouth went dry, panic rising in your chest. "W-what did you do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"He was a threat," In-ho said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't let him take something that wasn't his to have."

You stumbled back, the room spinning around you. Your mind screamed for you to run, to get away from him. "This is insane! You can't do this, In-ho!"

His expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. "Insane?" he repeated. "What's insane is letting people like him get close to you. You're mine, Y/N. You always were."

The words hit you like a slap to the face, but you couldn't move. His eyes were dark, possessive, and you felt your body freeze as fear took over.

"I don't want to hurt you," he continued, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "But I will do whatever it takes to protect you."

The knife in his hand glinted in the low light, and you realized just how much he meant what he said. "Put it down, In-ho," you whispered, trying to find some way to reason with him. "Please. We can talk about this. Just... just stop."

He looked at the blade in his hand and then back at you. His voice softened, but the edge of control never left. "I can't let you go, Y/N. You're mine. I'll always keep you safe. No one else can have you."

It wasn't until the last word left his lips that you realized how true it was. You weren't just a passing thought to him. You were an obsession. And nothing would ever change that.

You didn't remember how you managed to escape that night. All you could remember was running. Running until your lungs burned and your legs shook. The streets were dark, and you didn't know where you were going. All you knew was that you had to get away from him, from his suffocating presence.

But the thing about in-ho that he was always watching. He would always find you.

A few weeks passed in a blur. You changed your phone number, moved to a new apartment, and tried to put as much distance between yourself and the nightmare you'd narrowly escaped. But it was never enough. In-ho was always just one step behind, and one by one, people in your life began to disappear.

You couldn't outrun him. You couldn't hide. And so, eventually, when you saw him again, standing in front of you with that same calm expression, you knew there was no use fighting. You were trapped in his world now.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice gentle. "I told you, didn't I No one else can have you. Not while I'm alive."

And in that moment, you understood. You couldn't run anymore. There was escape.

"I'll stay with you," you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

In-ho's eyes softened, but there was something cold beneath the tenderness. "You're mine, Y/N. I'll keep you safe. Always."

And just like that, you belonged to him. Forever.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @thatbitchanna27 @endlessfl4mes @sunshiines-stuff @warlabels @icomehereforthefics @totowolfffcheco @m0rtifiedg0th @crystalizia @hwang-inhosb1tch

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵... 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥...

[spidercat2099]

Kento doesn't go out for drinks... usually.

Nanami hadn’t planned on going out for drinks that night. He never did. He’d perfected the art of declining invitations with a polite yet firm excuse—too much work, an early morning, simply not interested. It wasn’t that he disliked his coworkers, but the thought of spending his precious free time in a noisy bar, pretending to enjoy small talk, felt like a waste. Time was valuable, and he refused to spend it on anything he didn’t deem worthwhile.

But then there was you.

You hadn’t asked him outright, just offhandedly mentioned, “You never come out with us, huh? What, do you go home and stare at the ceiling after work?” The way you smirked, teasing but not unkind, had struck a nerve—because yes, sometimes he did exactly that.

And maybe it was the way you said it. Maybe it was the way you looked at him, expecting another dismissive answer. Maybe it was because, lately, he’d found himself lingering in conversations with you just a little too long, noticing the way you tilted your head when you listened, the way you lit up when you talked about something you cared about. Maybe it was because, when he really thought about it, the idea of spending an evening with you didn’t feel like a waste at all.

So he went. He arrived late, and the second he stepped inside, he regretted it—too loud, too many people, the kind of place he usually avoided. But then he saw you, sitting at a corner booth, laughing at something a coworker said, and somehow, it didn’t seem so unbearable.

You noticed him immediately, eyes widening in surprise before softening into something warmer. “Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you admitted as he slid into the seat next to you.

He sighed, loosening his tie a little more. “Neither did I.”

He didn’t engage much with the others, his responses polite but brief. Most of his attention was on you—not that he’d ever admit it. He watched the way your face lit up when you laughed, how effortlessly you fit into the energy of the group. He wasn’t particularly fond of loud, crowded places, but if it meant sitting beside you, watching your eyes crinkle when you smiled, he found that he didn’t mind it as much.

But you weren’t about to let him sit there like an observer. No, you were determined to make him enjoy himself, too. Your eyes flicked to the whiskey glass he had barely touched. "C'mon, that can't be the only thing you're drinking."

"I don’t drink much—" he began, but then the bartender placed a fresh round of shots in front of you.

"Just one?" You held up a glass, tilting your head slightly.

He should say no. He knows he should say no. But with the way you were looking at him, expectant and playful, how could he? With a quiet sigh, he picked up the shot, tapping it against yours before downing it.

"That’s… terrible," he muttered, setting the glass down with a slight grimace.

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. "It is, but it gets the job done!"

He pressed his lips together, but you swore you caught the ghost of a smile. Or maybe you were already tipsy and imagining things.

"One more!" You lifted a finger to the bartender, but before you could complete the order, Kento's hand was on your wrist, lowering it gently.

"Maybe you should slow down." His voice was steady, but there was something in his expression—concern, maybe.

You pouted, glancing at the fresh shot as the bartender slid it over. "But he already served it… I don’t wanna waste it."

He sighed, rubbing his temple. "Look, you won’t waste it. I’ll drink it, hm?" He extended his hand, waiting for you to pass it over.

You stared at him for a moment, then shook your head. Instead, you picked up the shot yourself. Without warning, you cupped his face.

His breath hitched. Your palms were warm against his skin, and suddenly, he was more aware of your presence than ever before. His pulse ticked in his throat as he met your gaze, trying to decipher your intentions. He could have stopped you—should have stopped you—but he didn’t.

You brought the glass to his lips, tilting it slightly. His jaw tensed for a brief second before he relented, parting his lips as he let you tip the shot into his mouth. The alcohol burned, but it wasn’t what made his chest feel tight. It was you. The way you were looking at him. The way your thumb lingered, brushing against the corner of his lips, wiping away a stray drop of liquor.

"Better?" His voice was lower, rougher.

"Better," you murmured, but your eyes weren’t on his anymore. They were on his lips.

You leaned in. Closer. Closer.

And Kento, despite every rational part of him telling him he shouldn’t, didn’t move away. Especially when your soft lips touched his. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His hand came up to the back of your head, kissing you deeper.

With reluctance, he finally pulled back. He bit his bottom lip gently as he tasted the contrast of the liquor to your sweet coconut-flavored chapstick.

Your mouth stayed open as you caught your breath. "Tell me. Was it worth it to come out tonight?" you asked.

He nodded, moving his hand to caress your flushed skin tenderly. "Do I get a kiss every time I do?"

You let out a small laugh. "You don't have to go out just to get one. But if you want, I'll give you a kiss every time." You lean in again, kissing his lips gently as if savoring every second. He could get used to this.

[poisonousspiderlily]

sacred king's success was growing visibly. you had been a fan since the day they performed in a random bar in tokyo with only ten people watching. even if no one was there to see them, they still put on a performance that proved they owned the stage. it was impossible to take your eyes off them.

especially the emo, shy drummer.

the moment you saw choso kamo, you knew you wanted him. even among the ten people in that bar during their first performance, you could feel his nervousness. at first glance, one might think he wouldn't fit in with the band, but the moment they started playing, he forgot all his shyness and lost himself in the drums.

nothing was more delicious than watching him bite his lower lip while attacking the toms with quick, hard strikes, his tattoos standing out even more as he moved.

you had to meet him.

after their performance, when you saw them drinking at the bar, you approached with excitement and greeted him. choso turned bright red with embarrassment, and when he reached out to shake your hand, he accidentally spilled his beer. you were dying over how adorable and shy he was. he was the sexiest and sweetest man you had ever met. that night ended with you hanging out with the band, joining their conversation, and getting choso’s number.

even though you had his number, your conversations never went beyond discussing their next concert location. you felt disappointed, thinking he wasn’t interested in you, but at least you had made a sweet friend. besides, when they became a world-famous death metal band, you could brag about knowing them personally. after all, you didn’t need to have something going on with choso.

or maybe you did, because right now, in the empty backstage dressing room, he was eating your pussy like a man starved.

you couldn’t believe this man was a virgin. he might have been shy, but you had assumed he had fucked dozens of girls. yet choso had never gone further than kissing before.

but fuck, he was so good at this…

his tongue moved as if he didn’t know what he was doing. he licked your soaked lips, and when you told him you wanted more, he took them into his mouth, sucking hard while occasionally using his teeth before letting go. then he dove right back in, licking with desperate enthusiasm.

“fuck, c-choso, slow down,” you whimpered, unable to handle his pace.

he pulled back, panting against your folds, his eyes dark with lust. “i-i can’t. this is too good. i want my mouth to stay here forever.” he licked up from the bottom to the top, then slipped his tongue inside you, thrusting it in and out.

“you-nghh… you’re not supposed to be this good. it’s not f-fair,” you gasped. it really wasn’t. you had fucked plenty of experienced people, but none of them had eaten you out the way choso was right now. his movements were messy and uncoordinated, but you never imagined that would make it even better.

as he tongue-fucked you, his nose rubbed against your clit. he hadn’t even licked it yet, but every brush of his nose against it made your thighs and pussy clench.

choso latched onto your soaked cunt, taking your swollen lips between his own and sucking hard, his tongue flicking against them before he pulled away with a desperate moan. his fingers slid through the mess he had made, gathering every drop of your arousal before teasing your entrance—only to bring his slick-coated fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a low, needy groan.

when he spread your folds a little to expose your swollen clit, his eyes widened. “oh, i forgot about this part, baby. can i lick it? please? i want to make you come with everything i have.”

with his gaze locked on you like a pussy drunk, there was no way you could refuse him. you needed to come so badly. you whimpered, “please,” and choso moaned, lowering his mouth toward your clit—but the door slammed open with a loud bang. choso yanked himself away from between your legs, pressing his body over yours like a shield to keep you from being seen.

sacred king’s lead singer—and possibly the most insufferable man you had ever met—sukuna, raised a brow as he stared at the scene in confusion. his lips curled into a smirk. “came to tell you we’re going for drinks, but looks like you’ve already started.”

your face burned with embarrassment.

choso, trembling with frustration, snapped at sukuna to get out. the vocalist just laughed, shutting the door behind him as he called out to the others, “hey, our virgin emo is eating his first pussy!”

you wanted to be mad at sukuna for ruining the moment, but you couldn’t stop laughing at his words. choso groaned in mortification, hiding his face against your chest, pressing kisses to the hickeys he had just left there. “i didn’t get to taste your clit…” he mumbled miserably.

your laughter only grew louder.

virgin drummer!choso was officially a pussy addict now.

all rights belong to @/poisonousspiderlily. do not steal, modify, or translate

[balketh]

Imagine what it's like for Caius, though.

You're the old director of espionage - literally the head of the fantasy CIA of the Empire - for the Vvardenfell district. Nothing major, geopolitically. The local wizard-gods are pretty quiet, stable. The land is slowly succumbing to the choking commercial grasp of Western Civilization, at your Emperor's behest. You're a powerful monk, with incredibly potent defensive magic. You could pummel to death with your bare knuckles mer in full heavy armour without issue. You're still top of your field; you stay fit, low profile, and moon sugar basically gets you through the boring days like my ADHD meds get me through the day.

But then things start getting bad. Divine plague monsters start slipping through the faith-powered forcefield around the local dormant volcano somehow. Ash storms start carrying disease. Bad disease. People start talking about disturbing visions. Tensions rise. You're working, waiting for some kind of instruction from Ocato, or someone.

And then you get new instructions, delivered to you by a nobody straight off an imperial prison ship, straight from the highest authority in your land, from the Man Himself. The man that had fucking Walk-Brass reconstructed, and used it.

And these instructions, they're, frankly, ludicrous, even for Uriel Septim VII.

He wants you, his old spymaster, to push this outlander-nobody into fulfilling the local super prophecy, which requires them to not only be born under certain pretenses, but to unite the lands, kill the local (false) wizard-gods, and, as you quickly find out, drive out all foreign invaders from the land, including the Empire.

He wants you to burn down everything you've worked towards over the last decade or more. The Empire, for all its flaws, will be greviously harmed by this for decades to come. Thousands of citizens and foreigners will die if you succeed. This will be, by far, the greatest atrocity you've ever orchestrated.

But that's alright. Uriel only wants you to try. There's only very slim chances this stranger meets all dozen or more criteria to actually be this prophecised, reincarnated war leader hero, let alone survives long enough to succeed at the task... Right? .... Right?

Imagine how it must have felt, the first time they came back with the approval of the more superstitious locals, or when they returned with that daedric ring - the one that kills anyone that isn't the Incarnate. The slow, creeping realisation that you've set in motion an irrevocable, terrible, bloody change in this land (and have, unknowingly, doomed it. Thanks for dropping Baar Dau, Vehk.)

No wonder he hits that skooma pipe on the regular.

Motherfucker goes on to survive the Oblivion Crisis after that, and retires to write pocket history guides about the Empire.

What a guy.

morrowind is objectively the funniest elder scrolls game because you start off the main quest and theyre immediately like "okay go talk to this guy he's the spymaster of the blades in the area and is real important" and youre like okay cool and then you turn up at the guy's house and you essentially just walk into his shitty apartment where he's hanging around shirtless taking huge bong rips in-between sending you to do batshit quests and also insisting that you get a job

[woso-story]

The Worry Of Love

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The morning light streamed into the bedroom, soft and golden, but you barely noticed it as you stirred awake. Instinctively, your hand reached out to the other side of the bed, seeking the familiar warmth of Alexia. Instead, your fingers found cool sheets. You blinked, reality setting in: she was away at an away game, and the bed felt far too big and empty without her.

You lay there for a moment, letting the loneliness creep in. It was such a cliché to feel incomplete when Alexia wasn’t around, but that’s how it was. She had a way of filling the silence, of making everything feel right. Without her, the apartment seemed eerily quiet.

Eventually, you forced yourself out of bed, padding into the kitchen to make breakfast. The kettle hummed as you prepared your tea, the sound breaking the stillness. On the counter sat a little note Alexia had left before she left for her match:

“Good luck surviving without me, cariño ;) Te amo! Be good. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Her familiar handwriting brought a smile to your face. You missed her, but you knew she was doing what she loved. Still, you couldn’t help but count down the hours until she’d be back.

---

With the entire day ahead and no work responsibilities, you decided to spend it doing things you loved. After breakfast, you pulled your bike from the storage room, deciding on a long, leisurely ride. The fresh air would do you good, and the thought of a quiet ride through the countryside lifted your mood.

The roads were peaceful, the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound besides the rhythmic hum of your tires. You cycled lazily, admiring the view: sprawling fields, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and the golden glow of the late-morning sun. You felt lighter, as though the world had slowed down just for you.

But in a single moment, everything changed.

You weren’t sure what exactly happened—one moment, you were gliding along, and the next, you were sprawled on the ground, your bike tangled beside you. Pain radiated from your wrist as you sat up, dazed and confused. You cradled your arm, wincing as the throbbing intensified.

A passerby rushed over, concern etched on their face. They helped you to your feet, offering to take you to the hospital. You insisted you were fine, but the pain told a different story. Reluctantly, you agreed.

The hospital visit was a blur of x-rays and sympathetic nurses. The doctor confirmed what you feared—a fractured wrist. They fitted you with a cast, and though the injury wasn’t serious, it left you frustrated and deflated. This wasn’t how you’d imagined your day going.

---

Back home, you sank into the couch, staring at the cast. You’d planned a full day—shopping, relaxing, watching Alexia’s match—but now, all you had was a stiff wrist and a story you didn’t want to tell.

You thought about calling Alexia. But no, she didn’t need to know. She had a big game tonight, and the last thing you wanted was to distract her. You could already picture the worry in her eyes, the guilt she’d feel for not being there. It wasn’t worth it.

That evening, you settled in to watch her match. Despite everything, seeing her on the pitch brought a smile to your face. She was a force of nature, commanding the game with her usual grace and determination. Her team secured a hard-fought victory, and pride swelled in your chest.

Later, your phone buzzed with her call.

“Hola, mi amor,” she greeted, her voice bright with excitement. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course,” you replied, forcing cheerfulness into your tone. “You were incredible. Congratulations!”

“Thank you! How was your day?” she asked, her voice softening.

You hesitated, the truth on the tip of your tongue. But then you remembered her face when she worried, the way her brows knitted together, how her focus shifted entirely to you. You couldn’t do that to her—not tonight.

“It was good,” you said instead. “Quiet, but nice. I missed you, though.”

“I missed you too,” she murmured. “Just one more night, and I’ll be home.”

You ended the call with a bittersweet smile, guilt tugging at you.

---

The next day, you were on the couch when you heard the sound of keys in the door. Alexia was finally home. You looked up as she walked in, her bag slung over her shoulder, exhaustion evident in her posture.

But her fatigue vanished the moment her eyes landed on your cast.

“What happened?” she demanded, rushing over to you. Her hands hovered over the cast, unsure whether to touch it. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You sighed, explaining the accident as simply as possible. Her expression shifted from shock to worry, and then to frustration.

“You should have told me,” she said, her tone a mix of scolding and hurt.

“I didn’t want to distract you,” you admitted. “I knew you’d worry, and it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal,” she replied, her voice softening. “You’re hurt. I’d rather know, no matter what.”

Before you could respond, she was off, bustling around the apartment, gathering pillows, blankets, water, and snacks. Despite her exhaustion, she seemed determined to take care of you.

“Lex, stop,” you said eventually, tugging her down onto the couch beside you. “I’m fine. Just sit with me.”

She hesitated but finally gave in, leaning against you. “Do you need anything? Ice? Painkillers?”

“No,” you replied firmly, wrapping an arm around her. “The only thing I need is you.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, though the worry in her eyes didn’t entirely fade.

---

Over the next few days, Alexia’s doting reached new heights. She refused to let you do anything, from cooking to cleaning to even pouring your morning coffee. At times, her hovering was exasperating, but deep down, you knew it came from a place of love.

One morning, as you tried to make breakfast, she gently but firmly steered you back to the couch.

“Sit,” she instructed. “I’ll handle it.”

“Lex, I can manage one-handed,” you protested.

“Not when I’m here,” she countered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Though her overprotectiveness occasionally drove you crazy, you couldn’t help but smile. It was moments like these that reminded you why you loved her so much.

And as she placed a plate of toast and eggs in front of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, you realized that maybe being pampered wasn’t so bad after all.

[chilling-seavey]

this is so possessive of George and his breeding kink but imagine you are trying to wear a tight and skintight dress but it won't fit because of your tiny bump and the way your breast are changing

LOVE IT. LOVE IT SM

The string of muttered expletives coming from the ensuite bathroom had George's eyes drifting to the cracked open door. Standing in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom as he tied his tie, he called out to you, "You alright in there, love?"

"No." came your insistent response, words strained in frustration and exertion.

George padded over to the ensuite door and knocked as he nudged it open a little more to peek inside, alerting you of his presence. Of course, you didn't turn him away, letting him get an eyeful of you immensely struggling to get into your cocktail dress. You honestly looked like some attempt at a Picasso sculpture with your arms flung around your torso this way and that, manicured fingernails clawing at your back and the edge of your dress.

"What in the world is going on here?" George asked with a breathy laugh as he rested his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

"My dress won't do up," you huffed, finally getting your hand on the tiny zipper but it wouldn't budge, the fabric sides being held too far apart.

George pushed off the wall and took the half step over to you, "Alright, alright, let me."

You sent a frustrated pout to the bathroom mirror as you dropped your hands to your sides, watching his reflection standing behind you and analyzing the zipper of your dress. His warm fingers brushed over the small of your back, rising the faintest shivers in their wake, and he tugged the fabric of your dress closer together before starting to pull up the zipper. He made it about an inch or two before he was met with resistance.

"See?" you threw a hand out towards the mirror in exasperation.

George glanced up to meet your frustrated gaze in the mirror, the pair of you standing at a 45-degree angle to the vanity. He had this stupid little smile on his face.

"What?" you frowned.

George leaned in closer and let go of your zipper to slide his hands around your front until they rested over the tiny swell of your belly. He answered in the softest voice known to man, "Baby is growing. You're growing."

There was a pause between you as you both stared at yourselves in the mirror and the ever so faint bump revealed under the tight fabric of your dress. Your frustrations eased a bit and you leaned back against his chest, settling your hands on his wrists.

"Oh."

George, without tearing his eyes away from the sight of you in the mirror, licked his lips instinctively. Then, he pulled back to give your hips a squeeze, "Why don't you find another dress then, love? Something looser until we can buy you some maternity clothes."

"But I wanted to wear this dress," you frowned, running your hands over the silk fabric around your waist. The top was still gaping and loose since the zipper wasn't done up but you were adamant that this was the dress you wanted to wear for your special dinner together.

So, like the good husband he was, George had you suck in the best you could so he could yank at the zipper until it finally cooperated with a purposeful zwwwip. Sure, you could hardly breathe and in spots the dress looked like it was about to rip right off you, but you were pleased.

As you stared at yourself in the mirror, your eyes moved from your tiny belly to the genuinely obnoxious swell of your breasts. Once having been held nicely in this form fitting dress, now, to be frank, you resembled a cheap prostitute with how they nearly spilled out of the neckline. Sure, you had known your body was changing with your pregnancy but this damn dress was really the nail in the coffin of realization as to how much.

Your eyes flicked to George in the reflection of the mirror, him still standing beside you and, as if having the same thoughts, his eyes were also trained in shamelessly on your chest. You licked away your amused smile at his expression of awe and then grabbed two handfuls of the front of your dress to try and make yourself look a bit more decent by tugging up the neckline.

"What the fuck." you groaned when the dress that was nearly painted on wouldn't budge.

George stepped up behind you and gently pulled your hands away so he could try, definitely knowing he wasn't going to get much farther but silently wanting an opportunity to touch you without looking too sleezy. But when it was proven that the dress was not going to budge and you were left looking quite...out there...George let himself splay his large hands over the surface area of your breasts as he sighed against your shoulder.

Your momentary frustration melted into an amused smile, resting your hands on the bathroom counter as he gently groped your breasts and then slid his palms down to rub over your tiny belly beneath your dress. He kissed your neck.

"I think baby is being strangulated in this dress," George mumbled against your earlobe, "And as much as I think you look...ravishing...I don't think this is giving the right message for formal dinner."

"Too much boob?"

"No such thing, really, but, yeah," George kissed your shoulder and then rested his chin down to stare at you through the mirror, his arms secure around your middle, "Too much boob."

You jutted out your bottom lip, trying to accept that your favourite dress was now, momentarily, unwearable. It was bittersweet, watching the old you that you were familiar with change to grow life. It would teach you how to fall in love with yourself and your body all over again, in a whole new way.

Before you could even have an inclining of a thought about George's mindset amongst all your changes, he spoke with his hands firmly covering the small swell of your stomach,

"God, you look so fucking gorgeous and I'm so fucking in love with you."

♡ Enjoying my content? Support my writing here :)

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[jiminomenon]

tdwp is my newest hyperfixation omg they're actual cuties 😍 also, idk if you take req for that series but imagine if y/n calls 'ms.yu' jimin? what and how would it happen?

im so glad you asked bc i was actually gonna write smth abt this

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n was tired.

no, scratch that. she was exhausted.

jimin had been in a particularly bratty mood today—more than usual, which was saying a lot. from the moment y/n stepped into the penthouse that morning, jimin had been barking orders like a spoiled princess.

“y/n, i want coffee. but not the one from that café down the street. the one that’s an hour away.”

“y/n, i told you i hate this fabric. does anyone listen to me?”

“y/n, why is princess ignoring me again? fix it.”

the day only got worse from there. multiple meetings, a last-minute fitting, and a spontaneous decision from jimin to change her entire schedule had y/n running around like a headless chicken. by the time they returned to the penthouse, y/n was ready to throw herself onto the floor and never get up.

but, of course, jimin had one more demand.

“y/n, get me my robe.”

y/n, half-asleep while standing, barely processed the request. “get it yourself, jimin.”

silence.

the air froze.

y/n, brain catching up two seconds too late, immediately realized her mistake.

she never called jimin by her name. not once. it was always ms. yu, spoken with the perfect amount of indifference to let her know she wasn’t impressed by her diva behavior.

but right now? she definitely just called her jimin. and not in a professional way.

no, she said it—all casual, all natural, like it was second nature. like she had the right to.

jimin blinked, then turned slowly, her expression unreadable. “… what did you just say?”

y/n’s soul left her body. “nothing.”

jimin narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. “no, no. say it again.”

y/n cleared her throat, standing straighter. “i said—uh—get it yourself, ms. yu.”

jimin scoffed, lips curling in amusement. “ms. yu? oh, no, no, no. that’s not what you said.”

y/n swallowed. “i think it was.”

jimin smirked. “you called me jimin.”

“no, i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“i think you’re hearing things.”

jimin tilted her head, looking way too pleased with herself. “so now you’re calling me by my first name? so inappropriate, y/n. whatever happened to professionalism?”

y/n groaned, rubbing her face. “it was an accident.”

“hmm.” jimin tapped a manicured nail against her lips. “i don’t know. sounded pretty natural to me.”

y/n scowled. “don’t let it get to your head.”

“too late.”

y/n sighed, shaking her head. “are you done?”

jimin pretended to think. “hmm… no.” she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into something teasing. “say it again.”

y/n blinked. “what?”

“say my name again.”

y/n narrowed her eyes at her, before letting out a defeated and tired sigh. “jimin.”

“again.”

“don’t be a child.”

jimin clasped her hands together like she won, “ahhhh, music to me ears.”

“whatever.” y/n dismissed, rolling her eyes, fighting back that stupid tug on her lips that threatened to make her smile.

and from then on, it just… stuck.

calling jimin ‘ms. yu’ felt weird. forced. unnatural.

but jimin?

she loved it.

[aventurineswife]

Hello Sweetheart! I have returned once more to lend you an idea, a request if you may—for Mydei. If you’re feeling spicy, you could add Aventurine for some self indulgence on your part. Or a separate character you think would be fitting for the prompt!

I found an audio I thought would be adorable, perhaps our reader reminiscing with their partner or soon-to-be partner. Mutual pinning may work as well… either way! I have a dialog for reference this time around.

Fluffy goodness! Warm laughter, perhaps some sort of confession if they aren’t already established. Up to you! Enjoy 💙🫶

“You’re not what I thought you’d be like”

“Mean and scary?”

“Yeah-“

“Yeah, well. I actually thought, you’d be mean and scary too.”

“Me??”

“Terrifying!”

“You were the one I never knew I needed”

Summary: You and Mydei share a quiet evening after a long day of traveling. While relaxing, you play an old recording where you recall your initial misconceptions about Mydei being "mean and scary," which leads to a playful conversation between the two of you. As the conversation progresses, you confess that Mydei isn’t what you thought he would be, revealing a side of him that is caring and gentle. Both of you reflect on the bond that’s grown between you, with Mydei subtly hinting at his feelings for you, leading to a soft, unspoken confession of mutual affection.

Tags: Mydei x Reader, Fluff, Mutual Pinning, Slow Burn, Romantic Confessions, Character Development, Light Humor.

A/N: thank you for the req, love! 🤭💖

The night air in the cozy inn was quiet, save for the crackling of a small fire that warmed the room. You and Mydei sat across from each other, the light flickering gently on his features as you both relaxed after a long day of traveling. The usual tension that came with his presence had melted away, replaced by a warmth that had become more and more familiar over the past few weeks.

You couldn’t help but smile as you listened to the soft hum of the evening. It was hard to imagine that only a short time ago, you’d barely known this man—this fierce warrior who, by all accounts, should have been intimidating, cold, and ruthless. Instead, you’d come to know Mydei as someone who, while still fiercely loyal to his cause, was far more complex, with layers that revealed themselves only to those close to him.

“I found something earlier today,” you said, your voice soft as you glanced at him. “A... recording. It reminded me of you.”

“Oh?” Mydei raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “What’s this about?”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought up the audio on your device. It was a simple recording, just a little snippet of your voice from a while back, talking to yourself in a way that now seemed amusing. You played it, the words from a much younger you echoing in the room.

"You're not what I thought you'd be like."

“Mean and scary?” Mydei’s voice rumbled through the room, amusement flickering in his eyes as he teased you.

“Yeah—” you heard your younger self say on the recording. “Yeah, well. I actually thought you’d be mean and scary too.”

“Me??” Mydei’s tone was light, a playful challenge in his voice as he leaned forward, meeting your gaze. “Terrifying!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he delivered the line, that same glint of humor now so familiar to you. The recording was an amusing relic of your past assumptions, but now, sitting across from the man who had defied those assumptions in every way, it was a reminder of how far your relationship had come.

“Terrifying, huh?” you teased, leaning back with a smile. “I guess that’s one way to describe you.”

Mydei leaned back in his chair too, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a certain softness to his gaze now, one that made your heart flutter despite yourself. He hadn’t said anything out loud, but his silence spoke volumes.

You cleared your throat, feeling a mix of warmth and uncertainty. “You know… I never thought I’d end up here, with you. You’re not what I thought you’d be like, either.”

He tilted his head, waiting for you to continue.

“I thought you were all sharp edges and cold determination,” you confessed, your voice softer now, “but… there’s a lot more to you than that, isn’t there?”

Mydei’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I think you’ve seen more of me than anyone else,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “That’s why I’m glad you’re here.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of them not lost on you. You had grown so accustomed to the warrior he appeared to be—fearless, unyielding. But in the quiet moments like this, you saw the man beneath that exterior. The one who cared more deeply than he often let on. The one who had fought for his kingdom, for the people he loved, and for the future he dreamed of.

And maybe, just maybe, for someone like you.

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence between you was filled with unspoken understanding.

“Hey,” you broke the quiet, your voice soft. “I… I’m glad you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

His smile widened just a little, a touch of warmth in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re not what I thought you’d be either.”

You laughed softly, the sound filling the room, and for once, it didn’t feel like you were the only one taking a leap of faith. Maybe Mydei wasn’t as terrifying as you thought, and maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one who had begun to feel something more.

“So,” you said, your voice teasing as you leaned forward a little, “when are you going to admit that you’ve fallen for me?”

Mydei’s expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that you almost missed it. He leaned in too, his voice low as he spoke.

“I’d never admit that.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Oh really?”

“No,” he replied, his gaze meeting yours with such intensity that it stole the breath from your lungs. “Because I’m not sure I need to. Not when you already know.”

And just like that, the last of the tension between you both seemed to dissipate, leaving only the warmth of the fire and the shared understanding in the space between you.

The future—whatever it might hold—seemed a little brighter now.

[mayahawkesfirstwife]

New Roommate

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Pairings: G!p Sub! Kang No-eul x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are No-eul’s new roommate and you find out that she’s different from other girls.

Warnings: Smut, blowjob, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (she pulls out!), praise kink, fluff at end, etc.

Author Note: Lowk only posting this bc I ACTUALLY finished it and I love the ending it’s so cute. This is lowk long asf omgg!! :0 Sorry if theres any mistakes!!

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

You finally finished moving boxes into your room, you sat on your knees on the cold wood floor as you dug into the big box in front of you.

No-eul knew her new roommate was moving in today, she was expecting a weirdo but she opened the door and was literally met with a girl wearing a white tank top and the smallest shorts she’s ever seen while you were practically bent over a box.

She shut the door behind her and you turn to face her, face lighting up. “Hi! You must be Kang No-eul!”

She was already in love. Your face was even more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.

You stood up, “I’m Y/n.” You stick your hand out and she shakes it, “Nice to meet you…”

“Sorry about the mess, I’m trying to put my things up as soon as I can so it won’t be in the way for long.” You said, but you notice that her eyes are in fact not on your face as you spoke to her.

But your tits that poked through your white tank top. Maybe you should have worn a bra.

To avoid her gaze on them, you turn around and kept putting your things up.

“It’s fine.” She finally replies, sitting down on her bed.

She sat back and watched you like a weirdo.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

She’d continue to do that weird watching as you do anything at all.

You noticed her gaze darken when you’d do certain things like rub lotion on your legs before bed, sucking a popsicle, change, or even lay on your stomach.

Maybe she’s just a pervert, you were weirded out at first but the more you’d talk to her, she’d continue to barely talk but you kind of loved how mysterious she was.

Soon you’d start to tease her purposely and she’d just shift in her spot, pulling on her jeans as if she had a literal boner.

One time you seen a bulge in her pants, she quickly put her pillow over it and it confused you, maybe it was just her jeans or something in her pocket?

You’d grow needy and horny for your roommate. You knew she felt the same way and you just wanted to be fucked by her at this point.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Today you walked into your dorm and seen her hand under her cover, hand moving up and down as her head in leaned back against the frame. She was touching herself.

You clear your throat and she gasps, moving a pillow over her crotch that was already covered by the blanket.

“Shit, I thought you had class.”

“It got cancelled.” You lock the door and walk over to her, her bangs were stuck to her forehead and she was panting.

“Want some help?” You bit your lip. She looks away, face turning red.

“No thanks.”

You sigh, “So, what’s your problem then? You stare at me all the time like you want to tear my clothes off. But when I come onto you, now you don’t want me?”

“It’s not that…I promise. I’m just…not what you think, okay? I’m…different.” She said, it was the most she’s ever told you about herself.

“Different how? No-eul, I don’t care. Just tell me. Is something wrong?” You ask, rubbing her leg.

She flinches back, “It’s weird. You’re going to get grossed out if I tell you.”

“Well, show me, then.” You said, she sighs.

“Fine, don’t blame me when you run away.” She moves her pillow off her crotch area and pushes the blanket down.

She had a penis!

Not only that…it was fucking long and thick. Who the fuck could she fit that shit inside of?

“Wow.”

It was hard and the tip was red and sticky, leaking of pre-cum.

“I know, it’s gross and weird. I’m the weird girl with a penis.” She sighs.

“A fucking huge one.” You crawl into the bed.

“I wonder if it’d fit inside of me…what do you think? Hmm?”

Her face is shocked and she is blushing, she grows even harder.

“W-What?”

“Should we try?” You peck her lips and she whines.

You two start to make out, she was a great kisser. You pull back, “Have you ever done this?”

She looks down, “I mean…I kissed a couple of girls and one girl…jerked me off...but that’s it.”

“You never been sucked off before?” You hum, crawling down her lap. “N-No…”

“Can I be the first?”

“P-Please…yes.”

“You’re so fucking hot, No-eul…” You hum, wrapping your hand around the base and pumping it, licking your lips.

She groans, gripping your arm. “I-I…please! Put it inside your mouth, please?”

“Needy baby, I will, okay?“ You suck the tip and she moans.

“I-I…just…yeah, just like that! O-Oh my!”

She grips your hair as you take her cock in your mouth, bopping your head up and down.

You look up at her, she whimpers as you hold eye contact with her as your lips are wrapped around her dick.

She groans loudly when the tip of her cock hits the back of your throat.

“F-Fuck! You’re really…huh! good at that!”

You gag once when your nose touches her lower stomach, you breathe through your nose and don’t stop sucking her dick as well as possible.

If it was her first time getting a blow job, you needed it to be fucking fantastic.

“I’m about to…fuck! I’m about to cum!”

Her mouth opens wide into an O shape, she gasps. “Fuck, fuck! Do I…Do I do it in your mouth?” She whined.

You nod against her, flattening your tongue on her cock while your head bopped up and down.

She groans, her hands tug on your hair as she came down into your mouth.

You hum into her, you swallow the warm liquid and pull yourself off her cock with a pop.

You gasp for air and breathe heavily, coughing and wiping your mouth with your arm.

“Fuck, you’re huge. My throat hurts.” You sit up on her lap as she looks up at you.

“That was…amazing. Thank you.” She pants, her hands grab your hips.

“Of course…” You blush, fiddling with your hands.

“Do you…want to do more?” You ask, she nods quickly.

“D-Do you?” She asks, you smile and nodded your head. “I do…”

You stood up from her lap and undid your shorts button and pulled them down and then you pull your pink panties down and she moves the blankets away.

You get back on her lap basically straddling her lower stomach, you pull your shirt off over your head and she stares down at your boobs through your pink bra.

She pulls the strap down, shyly as she looks up at your face as you smile and unclasp it with one hand.

You lean closer, letting it slip off and you toss it aside. You grab her hand and place her palm over your tit.

“Play with them, mmhm.” You nod, she shakily grabs the other boob and squeezes them.

She pulls her hands away and starts to suck on your nipples. “Fuck, No-eul…”

She looks up at you while her lips are wrapped around your nipple, she grips the other one.

“So good with your tongue…gonna have to show me what else it does later.” You giggle.

She nods eagerly, you moan when she pushed her hips back against her cock that rested on her stomach.

You rock back on it, your clit rubs against it and she pulls back from your nipple.

“Can I…put it inside? Please?” She asks, hands grabbing your hips.

“Yes, put it in, baby.”

She moans softly at the name and you lift your hips and look down, watching as she lines her cock up with your entrance.

She pushed the tip inside and glanced up at you as you hiss.

“S’warm…” You hum, she pushed about four inches in and you squeeze her shoulders.

“H-Hold on.”

“You alright? Is it bad? Should I stop?” She asks, you shush her. “Shh, it’s okay. Just give me a minute, mhm?”

She nods, you try your best to get used to her size, her cock was thick. Not only was it thick but it was about seven inches long.

“You can put the rest in now, it’s okay, baby.” You nod, she moans.

She pushed the rest into your tight pussy and she groans as you squeeze around her.

“H-Holy fuck! You’re really tight.” She says, looking up at you while you bit down on your lip, trying to get used to her size.

“You okay, Y/n?” She asks, you nod with a frown. “I’m fine, it’s okay.” You pull a few inches out and slowly slide back down.

“Oh, fuck! You’re fucking huge, you’re stretching me out.” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you continue to slowly pull most of her out before sliding back down.

She lays her head back, gripping your hips tightly. Your slow pace was driving her fucking insane.

She hissed when you take her whole cock down your pussy only to lift it back out and slowly slide down.

She digs her nails into your hips, “Just…please! Can you s-speed up? It’s driving me crazy.” She pants.

“Fuck, i’m so sorry…I just never been with someone so big…” You frown, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Baby, can you? Can you please just do it for me? I can take it. I just can’t do it myself yet.” You pant.

She swiftly flips you over to lie on your back, you moan when she pushed your legs open wider and holding them in the air.

She slowly thrusts into you, before she slowly sped up. Your moans and whines increase loudly.

“It’s so fucking good!” She moans loudly as you start to rub your clit.

“You fuck me so good…don’t you fucking stop!” You groan loudly.

She moans, gripping your hips while she buries her head in your neck.

“Is it okay? You sure?” She asks for reassurance.

You grab her hand, placing it on your lower stomach. Her eyebrows furrow.

“Do you feel that?” You moaned.

“Feel what? Oh…” No-eul looks down at your fucked out state.

You were taking her so fucking deep that it bulged through your stomach when she’d thrust hard.

“You’re in my tummy, No-eul. You’re so fucking huge!” You moan, she notices your rubbing on your clit, “C-Can I?”

You nod, pulling your fingers away and she used her right thumb to rub on your clit.

“Oh, yeah! That’s so good! You’re so good to me!” You whimper, head falling back against the pillow.

“You take me so well, oh f-fuck! It’s like you were made for me…” She whimpers.

“Y-Yeah? I was made for you, my pussy is all yours! I love to take your huge dick.” You moan, gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“F-Fuck! I’m so close, are you?” She moans and you nod repeatedly.

“I’m about to cum!” You whine.

“Cum around me, please!” She moans, you do just that, cumming around her cock.

She continues to fuck into you until she groans loudly, pulling her cock out to shoot her load onto your stomach and tits.

Fuck, even her pull out game was perfect. She was so perfect.

You both pant, she looks up at you all fucked out, hair messy, breathing heavily as your eyes are shut.

“I’m sorry, let me clean you up.” She grabs a pair of boxers and puts them on before going into the restroom and getting a towel and wetting it with warm water.

She comes back and wipes your stomach clean, you look up at her in awe, “Thank you.” You smile.

“Yeah, of course…” She blushes, you rub her face. “You’re not how I thought you’d be, No-eul…”

She shrugs, “Neither are you…” She replies, you chuckle.

“I really like you.” She admits, you peck her lips. “I like you too.”

“So…that means I can be your girlfriend?”

You giggle, “I would love that.” You said, she nods with a smile on her face.

You peck her lips again and move to sit up, your legs shaking. You sigh, “Could you get me something to wear? If I stood up I would fall over.” You chuckle.

“Oh, yeah, of course!” She grabs a T-shirt of hers from her drawer and hands it to you.

“Uh, you want some of my boxers to wear? Or like I could…get your underwear.” She seemed too nervous.

“Boxers are fine.” You chuckle, she hands you some and you put them on.

“Would you look at that? I think they are super cute!” You say, she nods.

“My clothes look really cute on you.” She says, you lay back on her bed, making room for her.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask, she nods, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you closer.

You pull the blanket over y’all and cuddle into her chest.

“Goodnight…” You hum.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” She whispers and you blush into her chest and shut your eyes, drifting to sleep fast while she held you.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

[brokenpieces-72]

Hi, I was thinking how cool it would be for the team to have a 3-4 foot nothing mouse as an infiltrator and informant. who can sneak in by squishing themselves flat like real mice through the smallest cracks, steal information and not get caught. Thanks, and I love your work ^^.

Omg I adore this idea it is adorable! Yes! I'm just imagining the reader, squishing themselves against the ground but their legs are just kicking up the dirt behind them as they wedge themselves under a door that should not even fit their skull, lol. Also, this takes place before Spirit's time or a different time all together. I couldn't think of a way to include her in it.

Click

TW: past trauma, mentions of prison, mentions of ruining people's lives, shitty bosses, criminal history, let me know if any changes are needed.

"Is this contract negotiable?" You asked, sitting across from Laswell. She'd slid the contract over to you for a job, promising you the basic amenities and a hefty cash reward for your participation in an infiltration mission. You would be a key player in an infiltration mission to collect data from a cartel, something you were very good at. The information was pretty basic stuff like bio-chemical research files, shipping manifests, buyer lists, etc.

"What are you asking for?" Kate asked.

"Reduced sentence." You said, sliding the contract back to her. Kate took it back, glancing at you. "I've served 10 years already, for following orders. I want to walk around freely after this."

Laswell didn't show it but she was surprised by your statement. You'd plead guilty during your trial, and chose your words carefully when you spoke. If you wanted your freedom she could arrange it. You would be tracked for a while, but you knew that already. In a place like this, your size was weakness, something plenty of other inmates could take advantage of.

"I'll see to it personally." Kate told you, gathering her things. You gave her a curt nod.

You didn't need basic training, but the overgrown lizard with the missing wing wanted to give you an assessment. You didn't argue, you could give him attitude once you'd warmed up to the others. Your contract required compliance on your end. While you didn't have to like it, you weren't about to start drama. Just get your work done, complete the contract, and get your tracking bracelet. Thankfully you passed the assessment with little issues. You returned to Price for your orders and then you see Alejandro. Fuck.

You have to dig your nails into your palms when you see the spots on his arms. You know those spots, and try to avoid them. And of course the colonel noticed your discomfort with his presence. Didn't comment on it though. Price dismissed you to shower, and settle in. A laptop had been put in your room for you to look over what information they had so far for the mission. You knew what you were going to do with the laptop right away.

Holy shit, you forgot how much you missed warm water and privacy like this. It felt so good to get all of your dirt and sweat off, scratching at your scalp to get out all the grime and grease that had built up. You had to brush your hair out in the shower because of how knotted it was, but it was worth it. If anyone had an opinion on how long your shower was, they kept it to themselves. Coming back to your room in a warm hoodie and wet hair was marvellous feeling. You felt much more refreshed. When you saw the laptop, you put your date with your bed on hold. The sooner the job was done, the sooner you could shower as much as you want.

The cartel location was pretty simple set up. There were blueprints of the building along with edits for renovations. Everything you'd requested for the mission was available, including any reciepts they could get a hold of for the renovations. Tech was higher end but not exactly the most secure, it would take time to make an attack plan for it. You'd want to get a drone out so you could see how many guards were on security at a time, especially if there is an event going on, because security would be tighter. There were some aerial photos that you could get closer looks at, eyeing the vehicles that weren't military make. Odds were mods had been added, like bullet-proof glass or compartments for weapons.

Everything you could find or didn't find was scratched into a notebook. The advantage with writing things down instead of typing, was how easy it was to keep it to yourself and destroy it if you needed to. You probably spent a better portion of the day working on your notes and plans. By the time you had most of your wrok done, your lip was a little numb from chewing at it. Your eyes watered from staring at the screen, realizing just how dark it had gotten in your room. What time was it? Evening at least. Shit, you hoped there was still some food for you at the messhall.

You left your room, yawning, wishing you had taken a nap before getting to work. After poking your head into the hall, you quietly slipped out of your room to find the mess hall. When you turned the first corner though you nearly had a heart attack. Kyle unintantionally scared the shit out of you. You had to cover your mouth so you didn't yell in surprise. Did you hear someone coming? Yes. But not someone with big wings.

"You good?" He askeed. You nodded needing a minute for your heart to settle.

"Yeah... sorry." You said. "Was looking for the mess hall."

"I'm on my way there, I can show you." Kyle told you, waiting for you to give him the okay to show you. You nodded and gestured for him to lead on.

"So what do we call you? The Cap'n gave us your name but I figured you had a nickname or something." Kyle said, walking with you. Great, he likely knew you had a record as well. Certainly didn't seem bothered by it though.

"Mouse. Or Click." You answered. "Super original I know."

Kyle told you about the other nicknames of the team. You couldn't help but notice he seemed fairly casual with you, while keeping to himself. As soon as you figured out what he was doing you cracked a small smile. Kyle noticed.

"Did I say something?" He asked. Oh shit, he saw that. Awkward.

"No no, just... old training kicking in." You admitted.

"How so?" Kyle asked. You were hoping "old training" wouldn't come with follow ups. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable, if you wanted any mission to go right you needed trust from both sides. Kyle was taking the first steps, and you wanted to catch up. If you kept it to yourself it could make him uneasy, or dig into your file deeper. If you told him it could make him more cautious.

"I learned speech patterns to go with my informant training." You explained.

"Figured." Kyle said. "So what have I given away?"

The question is phrased in a way that sounds lighthearted, but you get the feeling he's both testing you and wishing he'd been more careful about talking to you. The more open and forward you are the better it would be later on. "How much of a dressing down do you want?"

Kyle shrugged. May as well give him the fullset. "You told me everyone's name and nickname, while giving me one thing to focus on for each of them in terms of appearance. Instead of telling me what hybrid they are you described their more human aspects. You're attempting to make me feel comfortable with them by providing me with friendlier terms to refer to them. Instead of focusing on what makes them different you mention the things they have the most in common which is their humanity. In summary you're sizing me up - no pun intended - while wanting me to be more relaxed and comfortable with the rest of you."

"Yep." Kyle said simply. You gave him a double take. Was that a test?! Kyle just shook his head smirking. Not the usual response but you appreciated how he took it.

"Can I be informal about this meeting?" You asked Price.

"You have the floor use it as you see fit." Price said. Oh boy, this would be a trip.

"Okay, first and foremost, there is more than one target. You have a server room that I'm not even sure could be called that, and there's a main office holding both written files and a computer. Second, this place has gone through more renovations than I can count. There are plenty of ways in, but each one has something either blocking it or guarding it, which will take more than a smile to get in."

"More than lockpicking as well?" Rudy asked.

"Or breaking down the door, not saying brute force and ignorance isn't an option, but I don't recommend the latter." You added. Simon was looking over the map you had spread out.

"Where are the targets?" He requested. You marked them and they were some distance apart. The server room was in the general center, with the main office being further from the entrance. "You have a main one?"

"I was going to ask about that." You said. "How much data do you want?"

"All of it." Price answered simply. You thought so.

"Server would get you plenty of files but they'll likely be encrypted, office would get you their main computer which could also be locked pretty tight, and the option of hard copies, but that's if they have hard copies." You explained quickly. Getting everything would be an option it was more how much they wanted to break stuff.

"All of it." Price repeated.

"Okay," You sighed. "If you look at the papers there's maps and times for the guard's rotations, which aren't the most consistent, but are close enough, during events and meetings they put in the effort to cover up a bit more. Their vehicles are no exception, those illegal tints are probably hiding radios, and hidden compartments."

"The van is modded too?" Kyle asked, looking at the photos you'd gotten from the drone. Sketchy white van parked out front.

"Spoilers." You told him. "But yes... and no. The cartel gets businesses to come in and work on their stuff under the table, all of it is done in cash and off record, but it's not always the same person. Before Kyle said anything that would be the first way in but that would get civilians involved."

The team didn't want to get innocent people involved, even if they were doing sketchy business. The team examined the work you'd put together. There were plenty of scribbled notes, photos, and maps to go over but Price could see through all your work.

"Do you have any other suggestions?" He asked you.

"Sadly, no. I wasn't exactly the planner when it came to these things. One thing I can tell you that is close to a suggestion, is that the place's security system is like a smart home. System sends a signal anytime someone interacts with it. If someone is taken off or put on the system, ping. Door unlocked or locked, ping. Car leaves the premises, ping."

"Windows?" Soap asked.

"It's a way in, but a way to be seen as well. I get most of your guys are bulletproof to a degree, but I'm not." You explained. They could cover you, that wasn't a massive issue.

"Could we take out the guards, replace them?" Alejandro asked.

"Theoretically yes, it would require them to leave the premises and a car jacking." You explained. Less violence required, and you were starting to map some more things out in your head.

"That will work, but then how do we reach the targets?" Price asked. Ghsot and Rodolfo could get through easily enough and unlock the doors from the other side. Price and Gaz would be able to hide among the guards as easily with their wings, so they could provide recon and a distraction while the rest broke in. Meanwhile you would get into the computer and servers directly, retrieving the target. There was one problem though. How would you get in? Your ears could be stuffed into a ski mask with some discomfort and your tail could go around your midsection under your clothes, but...

"One problem... I'm a little short for stormtrooper." You mentioned. You didn't like it, but they found a way.

Night before the mission you were curled up in the rec room with your notebook. You were journaling. It was the one thing you could do when you were incarcerated, and your therapist recommended it. One mission and you would be able to walk outside again. Felt good to write about it. Your ears twitched hearing someone walk in.

"Looks like there's a creature stirring." Soap said, joining you. You rolled your eyes, but gave him a friendly enough smile. You sat in silence for a moment before Soap decided now was a perfect time to get personal with you. "What were you in for?"

"It's in my file." You answered.

"Didn't bother reading it. I prefer the source, more accurate." He replied. You looked over your journal and tucked up knees at him. It wasn't to catch you off guard, or anything, he wanted to hear your side.

"Hacked into National Security." You said, finishing the sentence you were on before closing your journal.

"That all?" He asked.

"I was... ordered to. I broke in, obtained files on suspoected war criminals, my commanding officer gave me the okay, said he'd gotten a warrant and everything. Tried arguing with him, and... he convinced me it was for the best. We were catching criminals, terrorists. Well he never got the warrant, and the next thing I know I'm on trial, hearing how many people I hurt through my actions." You said.

"What about your superior?" Soap asked. You felt something boiling inside of you. The night he'd come to see you to warn you about the trial, you thought he would defend you. You retold your side to him, despite him knowing it. His final words to you stung. In the end it was your hand on the trigger.

"Haven't seen him." You said, shrugging. "Got plenty of tats in prison though."

"Really?" Soap asked, giving in to the subject change. He'd only seen the one star on your neck. YOu set you journal aside, and pulled up your hoodie and shirt to show your ribs and some beautiful inked works. "Is that recent?"

"The snake is yeah." You said. You're pretty sure the reason the hybrids were more comfortable around you was because of your small size. As a mouse you're less of a threat, but you have a criminal record. Soap wasn't put off by it, none of them were. You'd heard things about the 141, some of the skeletons they might have in their closet. You assumed there was little room to throw stones in the glass house. "Tomorrow is gonna suck."

"Why? The plan is solid." Soap said. Yeah for him maybe, not for you. Maybe that was why he was being friendly, so you wouldn't get back at him for roughing you up. You gave him a look, and he failed to hide his grin. "It's a solid plan."

Oh yeah yeah, solid FUCKing plan Soap. Laugh it up. He was snickering about it when everything was being planned out too. Were you laughing about it too? Yes, but it was a bit of reluctant laugh, like when you know you've lost a bet and have to get drenched by a water balloon.

"Permission to speak freely?" You asked Alejandro who was ziptying your hands behind your back. Something about him having to kneel down to do so was forcing Soap to hide his face. God he was a fucking child sometimes. Kyle was doing the same, but it was more towards Soap and his childish humour.

"Always." Alejandro said.

"Thanks." You said. "Hey Soap? Fuck off."

"Aye. Remember who's dragging in you in there." Soap said.

"Aye, remember who can make you sketchy dating profiles." You reminded him. Soap put his hands up in surrender. Alejandro was nice enough to help you get on the edge of the open truck before applying zipties to legs. "The leg ones necessary?"

"Yep." Alejandro said simply. He finished up and stood up straight. Rudy put the bag over your head, as you got yourself to awkwardly roll into the trunk. Before shutting the door you heard Ghost.

"Comfortable?" He asked. Not really, you were stuck laying on your arms but being on your stomach wouldn't be any better. You were able to nod under the hood, and give out a muffled, good. Then the trunk closed.

Didn't take long for you to figure out why they put leg ties on you. As soon as they arrived, and pulled you out of the trunk, you got hoisted on to a shoulder. You don't know who it was but they maintained the cover, with no signs of laughter.

You kept quiet, letting them carry you inside. You heard Alejandro talking to someone. You couldn't make out the words, he was speaking Spanish. There was some back and forth and you think you hear the word ninos. Other guy probably thought you were a kid. You started moving again, and held back a sigh of relief.

A door was opened, and two things were put in your hands as you were laid on the floor. You were given a pat down, the equipment under your hoodie was ignored. The door was closed and locked. Your shoulder was starting to feel sore again, only having short relief from the car ride. You continued to wait patiently. You've waited ten years to see the world again, what was a few more minutes? You felt something nudge you and you knew it was go time.

You sat up, and carefully opened the blade. You got the zipties on your wrists cut and then moved to your leg-SHIT! That fucking smarts... okay legs ties were off. Should've shaken the bag off first. You checked the damage real quick. You'd cut your hand, enough to cause bleeding but not deep enough to warrant stitches. You looked at the thing that nudged you, a cadejo, who showed some concern for your injury.

"Go, I'll be fine." You ordered quietly. then you put the ear piece in. Immediately Rudy asked if you were okay, and if you needed anything. You assured them you were okay but would need an extra minute. The hood was the best option, so you cut some pieces of it of with the knife. They were tucked against the wound, and then you got your gloves on. It was going to hurt as you looked up at the vent shaft above you. They'd put you in a storage closet, classy. Thankfully the vent grate wasn't bolted. You could hear the team going over other parts of the plan while you focused on your own.

One hop up, and you were able to get the ve-dang it. Okay come on. Come on! Get the right gri-there you go! You got the grate off and set it aside. For anyone else your size, the shaft would be tight. You were a mouse hybrid. You could squeeze into plenty of small places. The vent was no exception. You got low to ground, shifting your feet for the right stance, and then sprung upwards.

You got your hands into the shaft and on to the edge of the tunnel. With some small swinging of your legs, you hoisted yourself further inside, getting the rest of your body in. As you shuffled along, poking your head around to check for any risks you continued to listen to the team. They were making their way to finding the security cameras, intending to watch over you so no one would suspect anything. Ghost was making his way to the server room where you were headed while Rudy was lingering by the main office.

Thankfully there weren't many issues, once you got to the server room, but your hand was starting to sting. Shit, you could feel the blood sticking to your glove. Once you reached the server room you tried testing your hand, applying some pressure. Yeah you were going to need some help getting down, otherwise you might just hurt yourself more. You touched your earpiece.

"Ghost I'm at the server room, what's your location?" You asked, keeping your voice down.

"On my way still. Security cams have been secured, you're clear to engage." Ghost informed you.

"I'm gonna need you inside." You admitted.

"Need medical?" He asked.

"I might." You said. Ghost picked up his pace a little, keeping an eye out for anyone else. Once he reached the server room, he stood, doing a scan of the hall and ensuring he wouldn't be noticed befor slipping inside, through his own shadow. You were still waiting above the room, carefully removing the grate and pulling it up into the shaft with you.

"Where are you?" Ghost asked. You saw a figure moving below you.

"Still in the shaft." You admitted. The figure looked up and saw you.

"Stop fucking around and get down." Ghost hissed at you.

"Needed a spotter." You told him, cautious slipping down and dangling by your good hand. Something wrapped around your leg, and you realize Ghost is keeping a grip on you with some shadow manipulation. Once your feet were on the ground, you got to work while Ghost got a first aid kit that was thankfully hanging on the wall. You started typing away on your laptop, after retrieving it from the bag under your hoodie. You had a program put together already that would duplicate items, making identical replicas of the files as if they were never accessed or touched.

Once you got the right cords hooked up to your laptop, you let the program play out. Thankfully you could get quite a few files from the servers alone. It meant some impatient waiting, but Ghost had a way to pass the time. Cleaning your wound properly and getting some proper bandages. You set your laptop aside while Ghost set himself on the floor. You held out your hand for him and hissed at the stinging of the alcohol.

"Do me a favour when you get back." Ghost said, wrapping the guaze around your hand. Simon was surprisingly gentle when it came to patch ups. "The coward that put you in jail, make sure he pays up."

"Laswell told me she was looking into it. Don't worry." You assured him. Ghost had his commanding officer fuck him over too, but he'd had it a lot worse. You flexed your hand a bit to test the wrappings before Ghost applied tape.

"Soap to Ghost." Soap was heard in both your ear pieces. Ghost packed the kit up quickly, getting Soap to continue. "There's a guard approaching, west side."

"Company?" He asked.

"Find cover." Soap said confirming. You looked at the program still running. Unplugging it would mess up the files, you know that. Ghost could hide no problems there, but you were a different story. Seeing your panic, Ghost ordered you to get on top of the server towers. You looked at your laptop, but he hissed for you to leave it. Yep you weren't going to argue with him. Ghost instead hid beside the tower closest to the door, while you waited on the tower. You kept glancing down to see if the program had finished yet. Almost. Come on, come on, come o-the door opened and you pressed yourself against the top of the tower as much as you could.

The guard walked in casually, likely a routine check-up, make sure no one was fucking around on duty, literally and figuratively. The door slowly closed behind the guard while you held your breath. You know Ghost isn't gonna kill em, if he does it will raise alarms if anyone finds him. Knocked out, it could be from anything. Ghost readies himself, shifting his weight to go in for a headlock. Then the guard stops and starts patting his pockets. Holy shit there was no fucking way. The guard turned and freaking left?!

"Click, where are we at with the files." Ghost asked as soon as the door shut behind the guard. You glanced down again.

"Done." You whispered with excitement. Okay, one down, one more to go.

"The guard is leaving, you need to move." You heard Alejandro say. Didn't need to tell you twice. You hopped down from the tower, and unplugged your laptop, stashing it away quickly. Ghost left the room the same way he came in. Once you had you gloves back on you got back to vent. You moved quickly knowing it the guard could return again, even with Ghost out there lingering. The office was a much longer way to go, with plenty more vents along the way. You overheard some muffled conversations, casual stuff from guards and other cartel members.

"Click hold up." You heard over the comms. You stopped, looking through the vent grate. You had a tracker pinging your location through the shafts, so the team knew where you were for each room. You noticed a group of people chatting, all masked. Your small size, meant less weight so no issue with making too much noise. You could hear Soap's irritation over comms.

"Soap, status?" Ghost requested.

"There's someone else in the office, talking to the leader. They're chatting and friendly by the looks of it."

"You need a distraction?" Gaz offered. He and Price had been pretty quiet throughout the mission thus far.

"Alejandro?" Soap asked.

"In position." He said. After a confirmation from Price you start to hear a loud ruckus. The men below look around confused, unsure of what they were hearing. Then you hear Alejandro barking orders at them in Spanish and they start moving. You needed to move to. Rudy would have to make himself scarce, so you would only have Soap as your eyes through the walls. You're a little ways from the main office when you hear a noise in your earpiece followed by Soap cursing again.

"Soap status?" Ghost asked, more concern in his voice.

"Shift change." He said quietly. Okay now you had to move faster and you scurried through to office, overhearing a commotion from Soap, likely dealing with his shift change. Get in and get out, the commotion will pull the leader away. Rudy confirmed it. Except the leader's guest was still in there, with Rudy guarding the door. You saw them once you reached the office, and saw him sitting casually at the desk, as if he were just waiting for his boss to return so they could keep up their friendly chat.

You kept an eye on him, waiting for the commotion on Soap's end to finish. The extra occupant was an unplanned variable. There was no back-up plan aside from the distraction. Damn it this made things more complicated. "We have a John Smith in the office."

Soap stopped whatever he was doing with the guard and returned to cameras. He saw the extra variable. You had to wait for orders, and heard him talking to Simon about what they could do to get rid of the guy. Killing him would be the easiest but it's harder to cover up as opposed to a quiet infiltration. Your ears flattened, as you let yourself relax in the tight space for a moment. You arms were getting sore from holding yourself up. Mad props to the soldiers who could do it under long stretches of dirt and mud.

John Smith got up from his chair and started to walk around the room. You reported it, and heard Soap, Ghost and now Alejandro debating what they could do. Then the stranger turned, letting you get a good look at his face. Your ees widen, and you cover your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. No, there was.... no. That fucking bastard.

"I don't recognize him." Alejandro said.

"I... I do." You said, trying to control your emotions. The soft white noise of the comms was deafening as you remembered the night at your apartment, when he came to see you. You thought he came to be friendly, but you were naive. Thinking you were doing the right thing.

"Click, we need a name." Ghost said, having to repeat himself. You gave his name and his rank. The team realized your connection to him immediately.

"Permission to engage?" You asked. Price needed a moment to think about it.

"Can you keep control?" He asked.

"Affirm."

"Engage, you do not have execute authority." Price ordered.

That's all you needed, as you got the vent grate off. You waited for him to come into view, being sure he could hear the noise. As soon as he was in view, the grate was angled and aimed. You forced it down as hard as you could and hit him in the head, making him stumble back and fall against the desk. You didn't know it but the noise form outside the office caused Rudy whip around. He'd heard the order but didn't know what you'd done.

You dropped down with ease, landing in a crouch while your old boss groaned. When you stand you keep an eye on him, pulling up your face mask. You heard Rudy ask if you wanted help. No you could handle this. Once again you plugged in your laptop to the main computer and ran the program. While that was running, you went back to your boss, who was slowly getting back up, and hit him in the stomach, getting him keel over. That was a mistake.

Your former boss is bigger than you, by a couple of feet. Keeling over he was able to grab you, and drag you with him to ground, pinning you down on your stomach. "Hey there mouse. Long time no see."

Of course he recognized you. You had been the shortest on your old team, and the only hybrid. He thought it would disarm you, but you freed your arm and elbowed him in the face, hard. Once he rolled off of you, you were much faster, climbing on top of him. His mistake was not wearing any armour. Jail time taught you some tactics as well. A quick comm to Rudy and you grabbed between your former boss's legs. You grabbed hard, fingers curved in. The look on hos face was so worth it.

Did he try to knock you off? Yep, but any attempts vanished when Rudy sent in the cadejos at your request. Both stood over him growling. When he tried to cry out, you covered his mouth. His pained muffled groans however would have left plenty of questions if there weren't visuals to back it up.

"Anybody have some questions for this guy? He's an informant working with a cartel after all. Not undercover either." You asked. They didn't admit it, but anyone seeing you on the cameras was wincing a little at yur methods.

"Is he a client of the cartel?" Price asked, unable to see what exactly was going on.

"Are you a client?" You asked him, uncovering his mouth.

"You're a rat bitch." He said. You squeezed, and admittedly, enjoyed his pained expression.

"Yeah I am, but that's not the fucking question." You told him. "Are you a client? Yes or no?"

"N-no." He managed. You loosened your grip.

"Why are you here then? Serve them with a warrant to check their liquor cabinet?" You asked, jerking your head towards the glass of alcohol on the desk.

"To keep your ass in check." He said. You squeezed again.

"You never needed to keep my ass in check. Try again!" You said.

"A business deal." He said quickly. You loosened and he sighed with some relief.

"See it'll hurt less if you do answer me nicely. Also keep in mind, we're in the very room containing documents that can easily disprove your statements." You said.

"Information... for product." He said. "Get off of me."

You stayed on top of him, because you wanted to do so much worse to him. In this moment you had the high ground, both physically and morally. You wanted to twist.

"Click, how long until you have the data?" Rudy asked. By now he'd probably seen what was going on. You needed to focus. Besides, now you had proof of his guilt and an extra reason to walk free after. You twisted your body and made out only a few seconds left on the screen. Your former boss tried to take advantage of your vulnerable state, but you were faster, punching him in the throat. Then you put your hands together into a fist and slammed down on his stomach, lifting your legs to bring more momentum with your weight. Yeah he wasn't going to get up any time soon.

Once you got off of him, you got to the other side of the desk, turning your laptop around to face you. Data completed. "Just need some hard copies."

"We're out of time Click, take what you have." Price said. Damn it, you got caught up in your personal drama. The cadejos vanished, returning to their vessel. As you watched them leave, your attention attached itself to some papers on the desk. A contract, with signatures. You took out your phone and started taking photos, as many as you could in between a rushed packing job. You even opened a desk drawer and took photos of the inside before putting the laptop in it's bag. Okay now it was time to go.

"I need an evac." You said.

"Rodolfo." Alejandro said. All he needed to say. Rudy came in and you put your hands up in surrender. The same routine as when it started, except he left your legs alone. Your buff went over your eyes and you were led out of the room. Your old boss was still on the ground groaning. Rudy took one look at him before turning and dragging you out of the room. You didn't see much of what happened after that.

Once you returned to base, you thanked Rudy for his help. Too much longer and Rudy might have passed out, you knew it was a risk. His only request was that on the off chance the two of you worked together, you warn him if you do something like that. You could agree to that.

As for the data you collected, it was enough to get the cartel taken down, and put plenty of people behind bars. You contract could also put your old superior away, and reopen the investigation into the crimes you'd committed. Until then you were permitted to remain on base, working through the intel you'd collected. Your assistance had been a great asset.

One day you get pulled into Price's office where he commends you on a job well done, especially when it had been so personal. Unfortunately, that was your one flaw, in your opinion. You made and took things personally. It was why you put on a sarcastic attitude from time to time.

"Yeah well, I had the motive of a hefty paycheck." You told him, cracking your back oulling your knee to your chest and resting your chin on it. It wasn't the real reason, but Price didn't call your bluff. That smug look you gave him was growing on him, ever so slightly.

"About that..." Price started. Your ears flattened, and your body straightened. What the fuck, you signed a contract! You should be getting paid. Price smirked at your insulted expression. "You're still getting paid, and a substantial amount."

"But?" you asked. Yeah there had to be more. No way there wasn't.

"You have a great skillset, you have a strong mentality, your abilities prove that you're a great asset, and you get along well with the rest of the men. That being said, I can't recruit you because of your criminal record. Laswell was adamant."

You fidgeted in the chair, listening intently to what he had to say. The captain slid a piece of paper across his desk. You took it and looked it over. "I could use someone like you on my team though."

Freelance work. The paper was another contract, for Price to have the ability to call on you should he need your services. It was tempting. The risk involved...

"I think I'd be better off giving you my number." You admitted. "I'm sorry Cap. Military and politics aren't the best for me. Learned that some time ago."

Price could've told you everything that was in that contract, how it ensured your immunity if charges were ever laid, the high prices they were willing to pay, and your freedom to turn down work. You'd already been screwed over hard by the system. Would the contract let you do what you did best? Yep. But it forced you to make judgment calls, ones that went wrong in the past. Price understands your concerns.

"Let me know when it changes." He said. You could agree to that.

You reclined in your chair with your headset and your feet on your desk. A video was playing in your ears, while you were gaming with the controller in your lap. After a long day you deserved some time to yourself. Your lamp was on to keep your eyes from watering, while your laptop ran through some programming and codes. You set the controller aside, to take another bite of your take out. You get two notifications on your phone which you check. The first is from your ankle bracelet having an issue. You contact the officer in charge of you, informing him that you're not doing anything and the bracelet is having problems.

The second is from a familiar name. You smiled, and called him. "Hello new phone, who dis?"

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @0wosugarmommymedic0wo @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @lolyouranelf

[28harryssunflower]

Birthday boy

Harry sighed as he sank into the backseat of the car, staring out at the dark city streets passing by. His heart felt heavier than it should on his birthday. He’d woken up hopeful, checking his phone first thing, only to find a single message from you.

“Happy birthday, my love💞.”

That was it. No call. No voice message. And you hadn’t responded to any of his texts since.

The lads knew something was wrong. He hadn’t been himself all day - quieter, less engaged, going through the motions during their show but not fully there. So when they tried to convince him to join them at a bar for a few drinks to celebrate, he barely put up a fight before shaking his head.

“I just wanna head back to the hotel,” he muttered.

“Mate, come on,” Louis pressed. “It’s your birthday.”

“Yeah, Haz, a couple drinks, a bit of fun - it’ll cheer you up,” Niall added, his voice laced with concern.

Harry just sighed, shaking his head again. “I’m tired, lads. Just wanna sleep.”

The four of them exchanged looks before Liam nodded in understanding. “Alright. But if you need anything, just call, yeah?”

Harry forced a small smile as they each gave him a hug before climbing into their car. He watched them drive off before getting into his own.

By the time he reached the hotel, exhaustion weighed him down, but it wasn’t the physical kind. Normally, he’d stop to greet fans, sign autographs, maybe chat with the hotel staff - but tonight, he just kept his head down, pushing through the lobby without a word. He just wanted to crawl into bed and forget how lonely today felt.

But when he pushed open the door to his suite, he froze.

There, sitting on his bed, was you.

And you weren’t just there - you were wearing his favorite black lace lingerie, smirking at him like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

His breath hitched, his brain struggling to catch up, but instead of noticing what you were wearing, all he saw was you. He let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh before rushing forward, engulfing you in his arms.

“Oh my God,” he whispered against your hair, holding you so tight it was like he feared you’d disappear. “I missed you so much.”

You giggled as he peppered kisses across your face, your hands tangling into his curls as he murmured “Missed you, missed you, missed you,” between each kiss. It wasn’t until his lips finally reached yours that his hands started to wander - and that’s when he finally realized what you were wearing.

His eyes darkened as he pulled back, scanning you from head to toe. “Oh,” he breathed, his voice dropping.

You smirked. “Surprise.”

That night, Harry got the best birthday gift he could’ve ever asked for.

Later, as you lay tangled in the sheets, your bodies still warm from your night together, you reached over to grab a small wrapped box from the nightstand.

Harry blinked at it in confusion. “You got me something?”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “Of course I did.”

“I thought you were my present,” he teased, pulling you closer.

You laughed, nudging the box toward him. “Just open it.”

Harry unwrapped it carefully, lifting the lid to find a sleek, gorgeous ring nestled inside. His lips parted in surprise as he picked it up, sliding it onto his finger without hesitation. It fit perfectly.

He stared at it for a long moment before looking back at you, his green eyes shining. “I love it.”

“I hoped you would.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, filled with so much love that it made your heart ache. You spent the rest of the night curled up together, watching movies, eating snacks, and stealing lazy kisses until sleep finally took you both.

The next morning, Harry woke with a start.

The bed beside him was cold.

For a moment, panic gripped his chest - had it all been a dream? Had he imagined you being here because he missed you so much?

But then the bathroom door opened, and there you were, a towel wrapped around your body, your wet hair dripping onto your shoulders.

“Morning, birthday boy,” you murmured, walking over to press a soft kiss to his lips.

Harry exhaled in relief, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist to pull you onto the bed. “You’re really here,” he mumbled against your skin.

You chuckled, carding your fingers through his curls. “Of course I am.”

And when you handed him a tray of breakfast you’d ordered earlier, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

Later that morning, you met the boys in the hotel lobby.

You were immediately met with warm hugs and cheek kisses, especially from Niall, who grinned ear to ear when he saw you.

“About time you showed up,” he teased.

You laughed. “Had to make a dramatic entrance, you know?”

Harry just held you close, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the ring on his hand. The six of you spent the day wandering through the city until you stumbled upon a gorgeous beach.

As the others ran to the water, splashing and laughing, you and Harry sat in the sand, watching them.

You took a deep breath before turning to him. “I’m staying for the rest of the tour.”

Harry’s head snapped toward you. “Wait, what?”

You nodded, smiling softly. “I figured…it doesn’t matter where I am, as long as I’m with you.”

His eyes searched yours, almost as if he didn’t believe it. “But… you don’t like traveling.”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “But I love you more than i hate traveling.”

Harry’s face broke into the biggest, brightest smile before he tackled you into the sand, kissing you breathless.

Before either of you could say anything else, a sudden splash of cold water hit Harry from behind.

He gasped loudly, whipping his head around to find Niall running back to the water, cackling loudly.

“Oh, you little-“ Harry didn’t finish his sentence before springing to his feet and sprinting toward the water.

You laughed as he ran straight into the waves, fully clothed, tackling Niall as they splashed and dunked each other under. The playful fight lasted a few minutes before Harry, still grinning, waded out of the water, his clothes dripping wet.

Then his eyes landed on you.

Before you could react, he lunged forward, scooping you up into his arms.

“Harry, no!” You shrieked, squirming in his hold. “Put me down!”

He only laughed, carrying you effortlessly toward the water.

“Harry, I swear to fucking- don’t you dare!”

But he did.

With one last smirk, he launched both of you into the water, submerging you completely. You came up spluttering, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

“You absolute-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Harry cut you off with a kiss, his arms wrapping around you, pressing you close despite the cold water.

And in that moment, soaked to the bone, standing in the ocean with him, you had never felt happier.

[cuntboygirlfriend]

Imagine the government finds out you’re a delusional girl pretending to be a boy, so they give you an assigned husband to “fix” you. He’s disappointed you cut off your tits to look more masculine, so he schedules you plastic surgery to give you massive bimbo tits. The surgeons don’t listen to your pleas that you don’t want this: you’ve been declared medically unfit to make your own decisions. This is what’s best for you. When you wake up again, you can’t even see your own feet over your gigantic, jiggling jugs. Their unfamiliar weight makes it difficult to even stand up straight. Your husband says it doesn’t matter, because you will be relying on him from now on.

None of your old clothes fit anymore, not even the old binders you never got rid of. Your husband takes a pair of scissors and cuts all your boy clothes to pieces in front of you, shredding what remained of your old life. Instead, he takes you shopping for a whole new wardrobe. No more boxers for you, only lacy thongs. He got rid of all your pants, and now you’re only allowed to wear frilly skirts. Every shirt is specifically chosen to emphasize your new chest. He parades you around in public like a trophy, and you can feel the eyes of every single stranger you pass sliding over your body like you’re a hunk of meat they want to devour.

Your husband tells you he loves you when he has sex with you. He tells you he wants to get you pregnant with his babies. That way, no one can mistake you for a boy again, and your body can finally fulfill its true purpose. He always cums in you unprotected and has never once used a condom. You hate to admit how good it feels, how much you like the feeling of his bare cock penetrating your cunt and the sticky slide of his seed spilling out of you afterward. When you finally get a positive pregnancy test, you break down crying. Your husband is ecstatic. He kisses your tears away and tells you that this is for the best. Now you can finally get rid of your silly delusions and accept your role as his wife. Your body is going to change forever now, in ways you can’t take back. You will finally fulfill your true purpose