#i just want this to get a job where i can sit down

[hoshifighting]

Can you pleaseeee also write staff mingyu x idol reader🥹🥹

staff!mingyu

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive. may be triggering because of; extreme diets, blackout, getting scolded by the choreographer, fingering, a bit of possessive talk, hair pulling, cock riding, devoted mingyu too.

staff!mingyu who you're in one of those tiny-ass dressing rooms with, the ones where you can barely move without smacking into a light fixture or tripping over cables, andhe's , towering over you, big frame almost making the room look even smaller. he’s your stylist-slash-PA-slash-damage-control-for-whatever-stupid-thing-you-say-in-interviews guy, which means he’s there to check every last detail on you, no matter how close he’s gotta get.

it’s day four of this overseas tour—barely halfway in, and you’re already feeling like you’re running on fumes. you’re dodging local food left and right, not ’cause it doesn’t look good, but ‘cause it’s either not on this wild diet they’ve shoved you on or it just doesn’t sit right with your stomach. for real, you didn’t think there’d be a point in your career where you'd be skipping meals, just ‘cause the food doesn’t fit some "ideal look" they cooked up for you.

and staff!mingyu... always there, at the exact moment when your stomach’s about to start an opera of complaints, hands full of grocery bags and this half-smile on his face, like he’s in on some inside joke only the two of you share.

“alright, sit down,” he says, like you’re gonna argue, and starts unloading enough ingredients to feed a small village. he moves around the hotel kitchenette—pots, pans, seasonings, a whole rotation of stuff he’s pulled outta his endless stash. he even managed to drag around a few of those little plastic spice bottles from home, ‘cause apparently, foreign supermarkets don’t stock paprika exactly how he wants it.

“didn’t know your resume included chef duties,” you joke, propping your chin on your hand as you watch him chop veggies with the same focus you’ve seen when he’s backstage, touching up your makeup or fixing your outfits.

he laughs easy. “oh, it doesn’t,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “but you looked like you were about to faint this morning, so i figured i’d make an exception.”

“what, you gonna make a whole buffet?” you tease, but the moment he sets that first plate down, you’re quiet. it’s nothing fancy, but it smells like heaven—garlic, spices, veggies mixed with something hearty, real food for the first time in days.

“look, you eat this, or i swear i’m shoving it down your throat myself,” he says, crossing his arms, and even though he’s joking, there’s this serious fringe in his eyes. like, he won’t let you get away with just picking at the food.

“alright, alright.” you dig in, taking that first bite, and it’s somehow exactly what you needed—warm, filling, like someone wrapped you in a blanket from the inside out. you’re not even halfway done, and he’s already cleaning up, telling you about how he once had to do this for himself, back when he was training and could barely afford takeout, let alone proper meals.

“so, yeah, i’ve been cooking for years,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. and it hits you then, this guy, who’s supposed to be here to make sure your eyeliner doesn’t smudge, is actually going out of his way to make sure you’re not just a shell of yourself on stage.

“you know, if this whole career thing falls through, you’d make a damn good chef,” you say, and he just shakes his head, laughing.

“nah,” he says, “i think i like this job better. get to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t faint halfway through a song.”

staff!mingyu who notices everything, who noticed how you walked into the practice room that day looking like... hell, honestly. there were bags under your eyes so dark they could’ve been bruises, and your skin was that shade of pale that came from days of no sleep, maybe a crazy diet, who knows what else. mingyu was hanging out with a bunch of the other staff in the corner, narrowly paying attention at first, but then he caught sight of you—really looked at you—and yeah, it wasn’t just fatigue. he knew what he was seeing; it was that same look he’d seen too many times in trainees and idols back in the day. the look that meant you’d been pushing way too far for way too long.

by the time you got through the first set of counts, your choreographer was already on your case, his tone sharp as knives. “again,” he snapped, crossing his arms, and you could practically hear his frustration from across the room. “you’re not even hitting the moves properly. what is this?” he scoffed, giving you that disappointed stare that always made you feel about two inches tall. “do you even want to be here right now?”

mingyu’s fists clenched a little. he’d seen you pull off that choreography a hundred times before, and he knew damn well it wasn’t that you didn’t care. it was that you literally didn’t have anything left in the tank, and this guy was still going in on you like you were some slacker.

but you didn’t argue back, didn’t defend yourself, nothing. just bowed your head, muttering, “i’m sorry,” in this tiny, defeated voice. mingyu could see the exhaustion written all over you, the way your shoulders slumped, how you couldn’t even lift your head all the way back up after bowing. you just stayed there, bent over in that apologetic pose, like maybe that was the last bit of strength you could pull together.

but then, as he watched, you didn’t straighten up at all. in fact, you didn’t move for a solid couple of seconds. and then, like you were a puppet whose strings had just been cut, you dropped. one second, you were still standing, and the next, your knees buckled, and you collapsed right there on the damn floor.

for a split second, no one reacted; it was like the room had frozen.

but then mingyu snapped out of it, his heart racing as he lunged forward. the rest of the staff started moving too, voices rising in panic, but mingyu was already at your side, leaning down and calling your name, voice barely hiding the worry.

“hey! hey, can you hear me?” he said, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. you were breathing, but it was shallow, and your face had gone even paler than before, if that was possible. mingyu felt this pang in his chest seeing you like that. you’d been pushing so hard that your own body just gave up on you.

someone behind him was calling for water, another person was getting the choreographer to back the hell off.

jobs in general weren’t easy, he knew that. but for mingyu, there was nothing worse than watching idols, the people he was supposed to support and protect, get wrecked like this—shoving themselves into diets, swallowing the criticism like it was part of the gig, sacrificing sleep and health just to fit into a pair of jeans or to mold into some industry standard that kept shifting.

he’d been in this job for years, and he’d seen it all before. too many nights spent watching trainees lose more weight than was healthy, idols pushing themselves until they’d practically faded away. sometimes, in the back of his mind, he wondered if it’d be worth leaving, finding a path where he didn’t have to witness it all so up close. he’d think about it on those long nights when he was running on four hours of sleep and too much coffee, wondering what the hell he was doing here when he could be somewhere else, not dealing with the cycle of pushing and breaking and then pushing even harder.

but then there was you. you, with your stubborn smile and that relentless drive he couldn’t help but admire. maybe it was that same drive that had you here, running yourself down like you’d forgotten how to stop. but mingyu had felt that pang deep in his chest at the thought of not being around you—of not being there to see you through the highs and lows, to make sure you had someone who cared about more than just your stage presence.

it was that thought, that tiny, persistent ache, that kept him rooted here every damn day. even if he had to watch you crash sometimes, even if it drained him dry just trying to keep up, he’d stay. he’d be right there, whether you knew it or not, making sure that someone in your corner would be looking out for you, whether you wanted it or needed it, or not.

staff!mingyu who’d quietly made it his side mission to keep you fed, like he’d added it to his job description without anyone even asking. it started small, maybe just a little sandwich he’d stash in his bag for you after seeing you collapse that one time. but then it became routine, almost sacred, the way he’d show up like clockwork with that lunch pack in hand, looking half like your bodyguard in his all-black staff gear, half like your own personal chef with a menu that he swore changed every time he showed up.

“mingyu, what’d you make me today?” you’d ask, bouncing into the dressing room after each performance, all amped up and practically beaming because, let’s face it, you’d come to love his little surprise meals more than you’d admit.

and mingyu, with that smug but bashful little smile, would act all nonchalant. “oh, nothing much… just a little chicken and veggie stir-fry,” he’d say, but it was always something next level—some five-star recipe he’d learned just for you. and the best part? he’d make it seem like it was nothing, just a side gig he’d taken up on the fly, when really he’d been researching recipes, planning, and even practicing to make sure it came out perfect.

he’d hand you the lunch pack like he was passing off something top secret, keeping a close eye as you took that first bite, watching for any sign you didn’t like it. but, of course, you always loved it. because mingyu wasn’t just making food—he was making damn art. you’d take a bite, eyes lighting up as you hummed in appreciation, and he’d try to hold back that grin but always failed, shoulders relaxing like he’d just won something.

“you don’t get it, mingyu,” you’d say, mouth full but smiling like a kid on christmas. “i think you’re the reason my performance’s getting better. you’re, like, my actual secret weapon.”

and he’d laugh, pretending to brush it off, but inside? he was proud. because knowing you were hitting the stage with a full belly, with energy to burn and that spark back in your eyes—that meant everything. it was his way of giving back to you, even if you never asked for it, even if you didn’t realize how much he cared.

staff!mingyu who somehow became the world’s best photographer without ever meaning to, taking these casual, almost-too-good photos of you that drove your fans insane. you’d be walking through some cobblestone street in italy or leaning out of a coffee shop in tokyo, and he’d be there, catching that perfect shot with his phone. no fancy equipment, no staged poses—just mingyu, with his natural eye for what made you shine, snapping photos that were somehow intimate and made you look like everyone’s dream. fans called them “girlfriend pics,” and if only they knew the man behind the lens.

you had to admit it—he was stealing your heart a little more with every click. at first, you brushed it off as some harmless crush, a side effect of him being so damn good at his job. but then he’d do something small, like bring you soup when you were sick, or drape his coat over your shoulders when you got cold during a late-night rehearsal, and it’d hit you all over again. mingyu, with that goofy smile, the biggest heart, and hands that somehow felt gentle and grounding as he adjusted your hair or let you lean on him during those endless backstage waiting times.

it was easy to fall for him. too easy, really. and the way he cared? the way he was there for you, always? how could you not? he had this way of making you feel seen, like no matter how chaotic things got, he was your solid ground, always steady, always there to keep you safe and keep you going.

but, of course, staff!mingyu was a catch to more than just you. you’d see the way the other staff members watched him, the way some of them giggled and whispered, eyes lingering a little too long. and mingyu, ever the nice guy, didn’t even seem to notice—or maybe he did, but he didn’t really care. he’d give his number when they asked, smile back when they flirted, just being his usual, friendly self. you’d tell yourself it didn’t bother you, but the truth was, it was like a little ache in your chest every time.

after a show one night, you and the whole team went out to celebrate, and mingyu was right there, laughing, clinking glasses with everyone, in his element. when it got late, exhaustion finally started to settle in, and you decided to call it a night. you told everyone you were heading back to the hotel, hoping he’d maybe do the same.

but mingyu didn’t. he stayed behind, still chatting and laughing with a few of the girls from the staff, and you could feel it—that twinge of jealousy, the frustration, knowing they’d probably spend the rest of the night with him, hanging on his every word, maybe more.

as you looked back one last time, watching him, it hit you like a punch in the gut. maybe to him, all this was just work—a job. you were part of that, someone he cared about, but just someone in his care. and the pang of that realization stung. maybe you weren’t so special after all.

what you were about to do wasn’t right. hell, it felt downright selfish. you sat in the bathtub, hot water swirling around you, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that told you to just let it go, that this was a bad idea. but you couldn’t shake it off—every thought twisted into a knot in your stomach. you felt almost sick, like you had this strange, heavy weight pressing down on your chest, something that felt more like heartbreak than anything else.

“god, what am i doing?” you muttered to yourself, scrubbing at your skin like it might wash away the confusion. you knew mingyu was just doing his job, that he was sweet and caring and everything you admired. but watching him flirt with those girls, knowing they’d likely take him away for the night, made you feel like you were going to hurl.

“ugh, this is so dumb,” you groaned, splashing water around, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. “why can’t i just be normal about this? it’s not like i’m his girlfriend or anything.”

but then the truth hit you again, a sharp stab of clarity amidst the chaos. you wanted to be.

after a few more minutes of spiraling, you said “fuck it,” feeling a rush of determination surge through you. you fished your phone out of your towel, thumb hovering over his name. your heart raced as you typed out the message.

“hey, mingyu. i know you’re probably busy, but i just wanted to say... i’m not feeling great. kind of sick, actually. do you think you could come by?”

you hit send, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter as you leaned back against the tub. was this too much? but then again, maybe it was time to stop hiding how you felt, to admit you needed him without a million excuses holding you back. it was either that or let him slip away for good, and you weren’t ready for that.

mingyu came in a rush, as if he’d been waiting for your text the entire time. you barely had time to wrap yourself in a towel before he was at your door, knocking frantically. “y/n! are you okay? open up!”

you opened the door, and the sight of him—hair a little messy, eyes wide with worry—made your heart race. “yeah, um, just feeling a bit under the weather,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered slightly. you didn’t want to come off as dramatic or needy.

he touched your forehead and you leaned into his touch without even realizing it, closing your eyes for a brief second “you don’t have a fever at all,” he said, confsed.

you pulled back abruptly, the warmth fading as reality crashed back in. clutching your towel tight around your body, you walked over to the window, pretending to be fascinated by the view outside. the city lights twinkled in the distance.

“y/n?” mingyu called, confusion clear in his voice. “what’s going on?”

you couldn’t believe you took one of his rare moments of lounge because of being selfish. mingyu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in confusion. “y/n, you were perfectly fine just a few hours ago. what’s really going on?” he asked, the suspicion creeping into his voice.

“i told you, it’s just a little... off,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. the guilt gnawed at your insides, knowing you were lying, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to come clean.

“off?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “that’s the best you can come up with? you don’t just go from fine to ‘i need my staff member to check on me’ for no reason.” he took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “you’re not actually sick, are you? what’s up?”

you shifted uncomfortably, the towel clinging to you. “seriously, mingyu, it’s nothing. maybe just a little headache or something,” you said, hoping the casual tone would brush off his concern.

he let out a huff of disbelief. “a headache? so bad that you needed me to rush in here? that doesn’t add up.” he studied you, like he was piecing together a puzzle. “just tell me the truth. are you really feeling sick, or is there something else bothering you?”

“i just thought maybe you could... keep me um... company, you know? just for a bit.”

“keep you company?” he repeated, tone incredulous. “so you fake being sick just to get me in here? you could’ve just asked! you know i’m always down to hang out.”

“mingyu—” you started.

but he cut you off, his voice firm, the playful light fading from his eyes.

“why would you do that? this isn’t some joke, y/n. my job isn’t a game. it’s serious.”

you pressed your lips together at his louder tone, the shock of it stinging more than you expected. you hadn’t meant for things to escalate this badly, and as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, it hit you like a ton of bricks: you never thought mingyu would raise his voice at you. it felt so out of place, so foreign, and your heart sank.

“hey, hey, i’m sorry,” he said, the anger melting away as he noticed your expression. he stepped closer, the care flooding back into his eyes.

you quickly wiped your eyes before the tears could fall, you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “you know what? i hate it,! you blurted out, unable to hold back any longer. “i hate when they’re all over you, mingyu! it makes me sick to my stomach!”

his brows furrowed, clearly caught off guard. “wait, what? you hate it when who’s all over me?”

“those girls! the staff!” you said, your voice rising with every word. “the way they throw themselves at you like you’re some kind of trophy. and you smile back at them, like it’s all just a joke or something. it drives me insane!”

mingyu looked stunned, blinking at you as if he were trying to process what you were saying. “y/n, are you—are you... jealous?”

“i — well— hell yeah, i’m jealous!” you shot back, frustration spilling over. “you’re so kind and caring, and they see that. they want you, and it feels like they think they can just waltz in and take you away from me. it’s infuriating!”

“but it’s just… it’s just me being friendly,” he stammered, “i’m not trying to lead anyone on. you know that, right?”

“i know, but it doesn’t change how it makes me feel,” you replied. “it’s like you’re this perfect guy, and they all want a piece of you. and here i am, just trying to keep my head above water, feeling like i have to compete for your attention.”

mingyu shook his head, a soft smile creeping onto his face despite the tension. “you don’t have to compete for anything. you’re… you’re the one who has my heart. all those girls? they’re just… coworkers.”

you pause, processing his words, and mingyu scoffs lightly, a teasing grin on his face.

“oh please, it’s true. you think i’m not bothered when i see those idols shoving their numbers on your sandwiches?”

you blink at him, completely taken aback. “wait, sandwiches? what are you talking about? i only eat the ones that you make for me.”

he interrupts you with that signature smile of his, one that always makes your heart race a little faster. “yeah, exactly. that’s ‘cause i always give those sandwiches to someone else.”

“mingyu, what the hell?”

“y/n, what the hell?” mingyu mocks, raising an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “you seriously thought you could pull this off? lying about being sick? that’s low, even for you.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of defiance. “i wasn’t lying, i just—”

“sure, sure,” he cuts you off. “and is wearing just a towel part of your grand scheme too? because if it is, you’re gonna need to step it up a bit.”

“and what if i just want you to come over… in a towel?”

“then i’ll take that as a personal invite,” he grins, his gaze flickering to your towel before meeting your eyes again. “just know, if you’re gonna pull this kind of stunt, you better be prepared for me to take advantage of the situation.”

staff!mingyu who wastes no time, pressing forward until you’re caught between his solid frame and the cold glass, as his body pins you in place.

“you really went all out for this hm?” his fingers trailing down to the knot of your towel.

staff!mingyu who tugs the fabric free, letting it drop to the floor, leaving you fully naked. his hands spreading wide over your back, fingers firm as he turns you around to face the glass. your chest presses against the cool surface making you gasp as mingyu’s hand trails up your spine, steadying you.

staff!mingyu who grips your hips, pressing you forward, and then trails his hands up over your sides, his fingers brushing along your curves until he reaches your shoulders, leaving no part of you untouched, as though he’s marking every inch of your skin as his.

staff!mingyu who leans down, one hand sneaking around to splay across your stomach, pulling you closer to him, making you feel his hard erection on you.

staff!mingyu who lets his hand slip lower, teasing over the sensitive skin of your thigh before slipping higher, his fingers skillfully finding your pussy as he watches you through the reflection, face contorting in pleasure, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“don’t look away.” he instructs, his tone a command softened by that grin of his.

staff!mingyu who keeps one hand firm on your hip, controlling your every move as he slips his fingers inside you, “all this just because you couldn’t stand seeing me with someone else, huh?” he curls the fingers, trying to pull a response form you. “admit it,” he coaxes as he presses you harder against the glass, his fingers never relenting. “tell me you wanted this—wanted me.”

staff!mingyu who doesn’t stop until he feels you melt against him, a soft, teasing chuckle escaping as he takes in your breathless state. “next time,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “just say the word. i’ll come running.”

staff!mingyu who yanks your hair, tipping your head back to meet his lips as you twist in his grip. it’s a little clumsy, the angle throwing you off, but he holds you steady, his mouth hot and insistent on yours. you’re all melting into him, trusting the way his hands keep you secure, letting him take control as his grip on you tightens.

staff!mingyu who, somehow, maneuvers you both towards the bedd, he scoops you up with ease, laying you back as he hovers over you, he presses his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, caging you in as he dips down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down to your shoulder, and back up to your jaw.

staff!mingyu who takes his time, exploring every part of you with slow touches, like he’s determined to map out every reaction, to memorize every place that makes you moan.

staff!mingyu who, even in bed, is all about making sure you’re comfortable, arranging the pillows just so, adjusting the blankets if they’re too rough, whispering “is this okay?” and “tell me what you need” like he’s got all the time in the world. his hands are warm, grounding you, and he never rushes, taking the time to check in, to make sure you’re exactly where you want to be, that he’s giving you what you want, down to the smallest detail.

staff!mingyu who lets you wrap yourself around him however you want, all limbs and tangled sheets, whispering soft reassurances in your ear as his hands trace your back, making sure you feel safe. he’s patient, careful, coaxing you with soft, murmured words, taking his time until you’re both lost in it, every sensation heightened.

staff!mingyu who surprises you by pulling back, catching his breath, and suddenly flipping the roles—guiding your hands to explore him, encouraging you to take control. “i’m yours too, you know,” he murmurs, watching you with that familiar smile, the one that’s equal parts playful and sincere, as he lets you explore, giving you the chance to take the lead.

staff!mingyu who’s all breathless and desperate under you from the moment you take the lead FORREAL and ride him, his hands gripping your hips, trying to guide you even when he’s struggling to keep up. soft, wet sounds filling the room as you roll your hips in slow circles, making him whine. his head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, but you bring a hand to his cheek, making him look up at you.

“tell me,” you murmur, lips brushing just against his ear, “tell me you’re mine, mingyu. that none of these hoes matter.” he looks up, his eyes hazy but still so focused on you, like he’s trying to pour everything into that gaze.

“i’m yours—yours, only yours,” he chokes out, his voice rough and pleading, like he needs you to believe it. he’s babbling now, his grip tightening on you, thumbs pressing into your skin, anchoring himself as you move, each drag pulling another whimper from his lips. “none of them—none of them mean anything,” he gasps, desperate, brows knitted together. “just you. only want you.”

staff!mingyu who’s practically begging at this point, his hands sliding up to your waist, trying to pull you down, closer, as if he could somehow get more of you. “please.” he whispers, his eyes filled with so much want it makes your heart pound.

“you’re mine, mingyu. no one else. got it?” and the way he shudders, that choked, relieved sound he lets out, is everything. he nods frantically, hands gripping you tighter as he starts to lose control, bucking up into you.

staff!mingyu who’s wholly ruined beneath you, lost in every kiss, every whispered word, clutching onto you as if he’s scared you might sneak off, even when you’re right there, telling him over and over again—“all mine.”

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ CAPITANO: husband headcanons ♡

pairing: capitano x afab!reader/you warnings: reader is addressed as 'wife', canon and modern!au cho's note: the kinich one did rlly good, so now lets try it with our big boi hehe. happy reads everyone! lmk if u guys want an nsfw ver. of either/both characters ;3

this man is the definition of YEARNING.

he wasnt comfortable with the label of him being your boyfriend. with all his eternal affection and love for you? to just be a mere boyfriend? absolutely not. he just HAD to be your husband. proposed the moment he realized he loved you.

definitely proposed with a big stone :p

wears his ring 24/7 and kisses it whenever your not around and he misses you dearly.

he abuses the power of his mask and never misses the chance to stare and just admire your beauty. underneath his mask his eyes are full of love and admiration for you.

discreetly clingy. if your going out somewhere he wants to go with you 'to keep you safe' or he 'needed to pass by that area later anyway'.

hates taking off his helmet, but never stops you from sliding it off of his head to shower him with praise.

his nicknames for you are my love, dear, darling, prince/princess

his love language for you is physical touch, and words of affirmation

his favorite spots to kiss you on is your forehead, lips, the palm of your hands and your knuckles.

engraved your initials into his sword, and because of that he makes sure he takes good care of it always.

his kisses are always slow and intimate.

he is a quick-kisses or pecks HATER. he has to kiss you for atleast 10 seconds. he doesn't care if hes late, if theres someone right infront of you— he kisses you like its the last time, everytime.

more of a listener than a speaker

he likes to go on dates or do activities with you where you both have to talk to eachother a lot. like fine dining dates, late night walks or driving!

very touchy in private. he likes to snake his arm around your waist, pull your hair to the side and kiss the back of your neck.. hes just addicted to praising and carressing your body.

ever since he married you, he absolutely despises overtime. he gets bossier and meaner to his subordinates when he realizes he might have to stay a little later to supervise them. sometimes he even leaves his job or his expeditions early just to get home to you.

frequently brings you gifts. a bouquet of rare flowers, a jewelry set with special ore customized just for you, lavish wine.. you name it.

never wants to argue with you. the second you tell him he's wrong, he just immediately agrees with you, spewing "yes ma'am." "your absolutely right. i didn't think of it properly.. apologies my love."

ever since he married you, he likes to subtly flex he has you as his wife.

"Sorry, i must end this conversation early. My wife is waiting on my presence." and you can just HEAR how cocky he is to say that.

writes you longgggg letters when he has to get away from business for awhile.

regarding his letters, he made you scribble/draw a design which he got custom made to become his wax seal for said letters :) a very keen man

got you a coat matching his own!

when your crying, he likes to hug you in silence, just letting you soak him in your tears. when you've calmed down, he tells you hes there to listen if you want to talk about your feelings, and theres no problem of yours hes not willing to help you solve. in his mind, your pain is his own, and he'll always be there to support you through any troubles.

very possessive. he wants people to know your his, and hes yours.

princess treatment on TOP. carries you easily when your tired of walking, idly massages your hands or feet when your both lounging together, regularly brings you flowers

during misunderstandings, he likes to take a minute of silence to compose himself and his thoughts to make sure he doesnt say anything he doesnt mean

likes to properly sit down with you to talk out problems between the both of you, and keeps an open mind. he doesnt rush you or cut you off when your talking about your feelings, and lets you know hes present and he cares about how you feel

takes extra time and effort after an argument to remind you he loves you.

overall, capitano is a very romantic lover despite his cold resolve, and honors your wishes with his life.

[sleepy-steve]

steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.5k // inspired by this post ♡

—

november 1983

It wasn’t a bad gig, as far as eternal work in the Underworld went. Eddie didn’t even have to row the boat. He was more of a figurehead. Someone for the souls to follow. Someone to guide them. Seemed like an odd thing to entrust to a dead eighteen year old from the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere USA, but Eddie wasn’t going to argue. Didn’t even know if he could. It had all gone very smoothly. All the souls doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing. Until Steve appears.

Eddie spots him sitting on the riverbank, knees pulled up. Looking a little too casual, in Eddie’s opinion, but he didn’t know the guy’s life. Some souls were more prepared than others.

“Hey, man, time to uh, get moving,” Eddie says, and cringes at himself. He’d already been spoken to about his boat-side manner. But how were you supposed to talk to people that had just died? Eddie still hadn’t quite worked it out. Was supposed to find his own words, instead of working off a script.

“Hm?” The soul looks up in mild surprise. He looks to be about Eddie’s age, and has a black eye, a split lip, and a nasty cut across his nose. Jesus, wonder what happened to him. It wasn’t polite to ask, Eddie’d been taught.

Eddie gestures vaguely at the boat. “C’mon. I’m taking you to the next part.”

“What happened to the last guy?” The guy tilts his head to the side, hair flopping with the movement.

“What?”

“The last guy who was on the boat?” The soul asks, waving a hand in the general direction of the boat. Even from where he stands, Eddie can see the bruises on the guy’s knuckles. “It used to be an older guy, tallish, beard…?”

“I… I don’t know, man.” Eddie flounders. He’d had some chatty souls before, but none that asked questions he wasn’t trained to answer.

“Hm…” The guy hums thoughtfully, nodding to himself. Shifting slightly, he settles into a more comfortable position.

“So…” Eddie stares at him with wide eyes, brows raised expectantly. “You gonna get on the boat or…?”

“Nah.”

“…What do you mean, nah?” Eddie asks incredulously. Was that even allowed? What would happen if a soul didn’t get on the boat? Would Eddie get in trouble for not collecting him?

“Not getting on the boat.” The guy smiles at him, a little crooked from the scar across his lip. “I won’t be here long, don’t worry.”

“What…?” Eddie trails off, before recognition drops into his mind. It was that smile, it reminded him of… “Steve? Steve Harrington?”

“Yeah?” Steve confirms, brows pulled together in confusion. “Wait… holy shit… Eddie, right?”

“Yeah!” Eddie leans over the edge of the boat, bringing him as close as he dares. Close enough to see the blues fade into purples in the bruises on his face. The trail of dry blood still under his nose.

“You died, like, not that long ago, right?” Steve asks, not making any moves to get closer.

“Yeah, yeah, house fire.” Eddie waves him off, not wanting to dwell on the memories of his shitty father and those last moments where Eddie tried to save the few good things he had left. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry you’re here though.” Professionalism is out the window in favour of familiarity.

“Ah, it’s okay,” Steve waves him off back. “Like I said, won’t be here long.”

Eddie knows what this is. Denial. He’d seen it many times since starting this job. “Steve…” He keeps his tone soft, just like he was taught. “I know it can be hard to accept, but you’re dead. That’s why you’re here. You have to get on the boat in order to move on.” Steve is giving him a bemused smile, and Eddie feels a twinge of irritation. He’s doing his best. “I’ll be with you the entire time, I promise.”

“That’s… nice, man,” Steve says, slight grin still on his lips. “But I’m not getting on the boat.”

“Steve. You have to get on the boat.” Eddie throws his hands down to gesture at said boat, exasperated.

“No, I don’t.” Steve gives a little shake of his head.

“Get…” Eddie loses steam for a second before gearing up again. “Get on the boat, man.”

Steve just blinks at him. “I don’t need to.”

“Get on the fucking boat, Steve!” Exasperation is in each word now, Eddie losing his patience. If it wasn’t completely against the rules, Eddie would have jumped off the boat and dragged him on by the collar of his stupid sweater. The souls had to choose to move on.

With a glint in his eye and a half smile, like they’re in on some joke together, Steve still doesn’t move. “No.”

“You’re dead, man,” Eddie snaps. Fuck, he’s losing his cool and is gonna get told off for it. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”

“Woah, woah, Eddie.” Steve holds his hands up. Placating. Another ripple of annoyance runs through Eddie. “Okay, just—I know I’m dead. But I don’t stay dead. This isn’t the first time this has happened.”

Oh, okay. So Harrington is delusional. Eddie briefly wonders just how hard he’d been hit, looking over Steve’s bruises. Was this what killed him? Eddie holds back a grimace. “Just… get on the fucking boat, man. I know it’s hard, but you have to move on. Also, I might get my ass handed to me if you don’t, so like, maybe do it for me?”

Steve laughs good-naturedly. Hopeful that he’s finally gotten through to him, Eddie can’t help but crack a smile at the sound. “So, s’that a yes?” he asks, keeping his tone light.

“Sorry, man,” Steve laughs. “Still a no.” Eddie slumps over the side of the boat dramatically, hair almost dipping into the black water. “But don’t worry. Last guy never got in trouble for not collecting me, so you should be fine.”

Pulling himself back up with an exaggerated sigh, Eddie settles with his forearms on the edge of the boat. “Okay, Harrington. I’m choosing to trust you,” he says, giving Steve a pointed look. “Can I ask…” Steve raises a brow. “What, uh… what happened? To you?” Eddie gestures vaguely at Steve’s overall appearance. The black eye, the cut across his nose, the split lip.

“Oh, this?” Steve points to the bruise. “This isn’t what killed me. Got into it with Byers. Not important, really, anymore…” He trails off before shaking himself. “This, though…” Lowering his knees, dropping his denim-clad legs to the grass, Steve reveals several deep wounds to his chest and stomach.

Eddie lets out a low whistle at them. “Christ, Harrington. You get attacked by a bear or something? We even have bears in Hawkins?”

Steve snorts. “Nah, I don’t know what this thing was. Some kind of alien-monster-creature. Face opened up all…” Steve holds his hands around his face, wiggling his fingers in a fan. “…creepy.”

Looking at him with furrowed brows, Eddie isn’t sure if Steve is messing with him, or genuinely believes that a monster killed him and that he’s not going to stay dead. Eddie stays silent, assessing him.

“Anyway,” Steve clears his throat, awkward under Eddie’s stare. “Nancy and Jonathan are probably freaking out right now, I’ll have to explain when I wake up.” He’s rambling, Eddie notices with slight amusement. “Which should be soon, though this might be the longest I’ve spent down here. Last time was quicker for sure.”

“Last time?” Eddie asks, unable to stop his curiosity.

“Yeah, the, uh, car accident,” Steve says. “Got t-boned at an intersection, died on the spot. Woke up with a broken arm, three broken ribs, and this crazy head wound.” He waves a hand around the side of his head. “Got lucky, all things considered.”

“Right…” Eddie vaguely recalls hearing about Harrington’s car wreck from last year. But surely he hadn’t died. It wasn’t impossible, but highly unlikely.

“You don’t believe me.” Steve grins at him, and Eddie feels his cheeks warm at it.

“Can you blame me?”

Steve considers him for a moment. “No, I guess not.” His head turns sharply, as though he hears something that Eddie doesn’t. “Time’s up.” Steve stands, brushing blades of dry grass off his jeans. He gives Eddie a two-finger wave. “Until next time, Munson.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie leans over the side of the boat again as Steve turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”

Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, Steve huffs a laugh. “Back.”

“Steve!” Leaning dangerously far over the edge of the boat, Eddie calls after his retreating form. He watches with wide eyes as Steve quite literally fades from view, figure growing more translucent until finally disappearing completely. Unable to pull his gaze away from the empty grass field where Steve stood just a moment ago, Eddie only has one thought in his mind:

What the fuck?

[elegantgardenrunaway]

Today, we dance

PreCrash! Captain Curly x reader

A/N: Sorry, I couldn't resist. Haha. Anyways, this is not proofread and English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

(Image found in Pinterest)

Just think about finding captain Curly after the whole birthday ordeal. The room is still decorated while he's just sitting there, with his head down with an unreadable expression on his face.

You don't say anything as you sit next to him, not really knowing what to do, this was beyond your paycheck. Well, your last paycheck, the idea is still making you nauseous. You don't know what you are going to do after this, if you are going to be able to get another job or if this will be it for you. The weight of the news is crushing both of you, suffocating you in its silence.

You glance at him, then look around the room, the room which you hoped to celebrate your captain and decide here and there that this was too somber. This was supposed to be his celebration, his day and you'll be damned if you let it end like this.

Besides, you needed some distraction, maybe he did too.

You are a little ashamed to admit that it took you some time to get the courage to put your idea into motion, worried you may be stepping a boundary or just doing something in a time that wasn't right. Sure, the captain and you were getting close as of late, but you wouldn't say you have that kind of trust, not to mention it wasn't really professional.

But it's not like you have anything to lose now, right?

You turn on the radio, put some music, take his hands, invite him to dance "just one piece", you say, anything to lift his mood. It takes some convincing, a lot of convincing.

"We still have work to do" he says.

"To hell with work" you respond, taking his hands to guide him "Forget the work, the company, everything. Tomorrow we'll drown, today? Today, we dance. If you want to, of course."

He observed you, with those blue eyes with something you had never seen before, something you can't describe.

To be completely honest, you were expecting a refusal.

You were pleasantly surprised when he didn't.

His callused, warm hands awkwardly held you, not exactly knowing what to do.

"... I have to tell you..." He whispered slowly, sounding as if he was confessing a crime "... I'm not a good dancer..."

You blinked. You didn't expect him to say that. Captain Curly? A bad dancer? The idea made you snort.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing, sorry... " you shook your head, giving him an apologetic smile, hoping that you were not being rude. That's the last thing you want to do to him. You guided one of his hands to your waist, the other holding yours "... It's just that... That's very hard to believe coming from you, captain."

He just shrugged. For some reason, the easy smile he usually gives seemed different. You can't help but wish you could see it more often.

"What can I say? Being a captain is not exactly a job where I can really do these kinds of things..."

You chuckled "Don't worry, we are not doing anything complicated of sorts" you reassured "Just follow my lead..."

You started to guide the captain through the music. Nothing difficult, just simple, easy to remember movements. As you progressed with your impromptu dancing clases, you didn't notice when your bodies got so close to each other, to the point he had his chin resting on your head while you were resting on his chest.

The mellow melody taking you to another world, another earth. There were no screens, no pixels, no pony express, no worries about the future. Just the two of you, swaying with the music. This was all you could offer to him.

And you hoped that was a good enough birthday gift.

"You know, you are not as bad a dancer as you said you were"

"Hmm? You think so?"

"Mhm, but if you really feel like it... I can give you some classes..."

"... That..."

"Ah...Sorry-"

"No! Don't be!"

"..."

"... It actually sounds wonderful"

"Really?"

"...Really"

"... Well, we have some time before we arrive at the destination... We can see each other during our breaks..."

"I'm looking forward to it then"

[delulustateofmind]

JJK x Reader: I wanna get you pregnant!

Not in the way that you think! 

Characters: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, and special guest….Yuki! 

TW: Pure fluff/Crack, Use of Pet names, reader in majority of my fics is a non sorcerer (to make it more reader like, y’know?), Sexual implications: Spanking, sex, use of toys (mentioned if you squint) Yuki is feeling spicy. 

A/n: My husband absolutely despises me when I ask if I can get him pregnant. Why have such a nice ass? If I cannot breed? Such a cruel world :( 

Satoru- Ah hoho, sexy time? 

You sent him one little text:

"Hey baby! ❤️ Let’s get you pregnant! :))) I’m ovulating!”

Satoru, ever the over-eager husband, misread it completely. In fact, he practically sprinted from grading papers all the way home, like the little lovesick husband he was. By the time he stepped through the front door, he was already loosening his belt, eyes bright with a singular focus.

“My sweet little pookie, where are you? I am totally ready to breed your cute ass!” he called out in a sing-song voice, finally tracking you down in the bedroom, where you were lounging, giggling over some fanfiction SMAU—whatever that was.

"Baby," he repeated, bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement, almost feral, "I am here to knock you up."

You looked up, momentarily bewildered, tilting your head as you processed the whirlwind of a man before you. First thought: how on earth did he get home so fast? Second thought: why was he acting like this?

"Satoru…" you started, eyebrows raised. “Get me pregnant? No, no, you’re bending over, and I’m getting you pregnant.” You stated it so bluntly that Satoru actually froze, his face scrunching up in confused disbelief.

"So… that wasn't a typo?" He blinked, leaning in closer. "Listen, I ain't afraid of any, uh, experimental stuff," he said with a playful grin, "but baby, you gotta give me a heads-up if we're diving into that territory. Prep work, you know?"

You weren't entirely sure if he was joking or not. Satoru was a certified freak. He’d recreate any scene you wanted with full commitment, no questions asked. Anything was on the table with him. 

"Uh…" You stared at him, cheeks burning.

His grin only grew wider, eyes dancing with mischief. “C’mon, what happened to all that confidence? What’s this about getting me pregnant?”

You squinted at him, trying to stifle a laugh as you watched the way he was practically vibrating with excitement. He had really taken that text to heart. And seemed totally fine with whoever was getting ‘bred’ concerningly. 

"Alright, alright," you sighed dramatically, pretending to roll up imaginary sleeves. "Guess I’ll have to show you how it’s done, Satoru."

"Oh, so you’re serious?” he said, his grin widening to something almost boyish, teasing. “You know, I might be the strongest sorcerer, but something tells me I’d make a damn good mom too.” He struck his tongue out with a slight giggle.

You snorted, struggling to keep a straight face. "Yeah? Then get comfortable” You were doing your best to suppress your giggles. 

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, doing his best sultry voice, “I was born ready.” He leaned back on the bed, kicking his shoes off dramatically, completely playing along, his expression smug and ready to entertain your every whim.

Just as you climbed up beside him, he gave you a look of faux seriousness. “But first… are we gonna need a safety word here? Because you can’t just spring this on a guy without, like, a tutorial or something.”

You smacked his shoulder, laughing. "The only tutorial you need is to sit back and let me work my magic, alright?"

Satoru gasped, all mock shock. “So demanding! This was supposed to be my job tonight, you know. I came home ready to do the breeding.” He dramatically placed a hand over his chest, as if you’d wounded him. "I feel so used, so... objectified."

“Cry me a river, baby” you retorted, poking him in the ribs. “Or, should I say, ‘Mommy.’”

He gasped again, even louder, eyes wide as if he'd just uncovered a new secret of the universe. "Wait, if I’m 'Mommy'... does that make you ‘Daddy’? Because that I could get behind.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you deadpanned, trying not to laugh, “you’ll be getting behind a whole lot tonight.”

“So, are you actually going to fuck my ass or what?” Satoru practically purred as he pulled you into a loving kiss. It was going to be a long night. 

Suguru - Cute? But no.

You sent him a text. Your loving, devoted husband. The sweet, sly fox of a man you somehow managed to marry.

“Heyyyyy baby! ❤️ Can I uh… get you pregnant? MWAH!”

Suguru stared at the message for a moment, the whistle still in his mouth as he watched the first years run laps around the track. He blinked once, then twice, mentally questioning all the life choices that led him to marrying such a delightfully weird woman. With a small shake of his head, he shrugged and replied:

“No ❤️ But I can get you pregnant, princess :)”

You couldn’t help but giggle when his response popped up on your screen, kicking your feet under the desk at your cute little office job. You quickly covered your mouth to stifle the sound, trying not to disturb your coworkers. The older lady in the cubicle across from you shot you a curious glance, then simply shook her head. You’d earned a bit of a reputation as the office weirdo, but she didn’t seem too surprised. Typical you.

Later that night, after putting the twins to bed, you found yourself side-by-side with Suguru in the bathroom, both of you brushing your teeth in companionable silence. As he leaned over the sink to spit out his toothpaste, something in you—perhaps sheer impulsiveness—took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and smacked him on the ass.

For a moment, you both froze. 

You, because you were genuinely shocked at yourself. How could you possibly have the audacity to smack such a beautiful man, one who hid a surprisingly plump ass under his usual baggy sweatpants?

And Suguru… well, he slowly turned his head to look at you, an eyebrow raised, his violet eyes glinting with something dangerous and mischievous. You immediately recognized the look, and that’s when it hit you—you were in trouble. 

“Don’t,” he said, his voice so calm and smooth it made your skin prickle with nervous excitement. He took a step forward, towering over you just a little. “You’ll wake up the twins, sugar.”

Oh no. Sugar. He only called you that when he was not amused.

You gave him a sheepish smile and started to step back slowly, hands raised as if surrendering would get you out of this.

Suguru tilted his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he gave you that calm, terrifyingly serene smile. “What’s wrong, sugar?” he drawled, taking a deliberate step toward you, his eyes glinting with that unmistakable spark of playfulness. The kind of look of a predator looking at its next mean…sorry…toy.

You took another step back, hands pressed over your mouth to stifle your laughter, but the giggles kept bubbling up. “Nothing, nothing at all! Just, uh… brushing my teeth, same as you!”

“Oh, is that so?” He took another slow step forward, eyes never leaving you. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just smacked my ass. Which, let me remind you, is dangerous territory for a sweet little wife like you.”

You backed up until your heels hit the shower door, and your escape routes were down to… precisely zero.

Suguru was enjoying this far too much, the way he loomed over you, his tone smooth and dangerously soft. “Now, sugar,” he murmured, leaning down until his face was level with yours, “you wouldn’t have been trying to start something, would you?”

You couldn’t help yourself—you burst into laughter, slapping a hand over your mouth as you tried to quiet down. “Sorry! It was just—your sweatpants—and—”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh, so it was the sweatpants, huh? That’s what got you all brave?”

“Listen, I…I didn’t think!” you practically whispered, “I didn’t mean to!” Giving him the best pout you could muster, in hopes to charm your way out of this. 

Suguru raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Oh, now you want to act innocent? You’ve been a little menace all day, haven’t you?” He leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours, his violet eyes glinting with that familiar, irresistible mischief. “First, with that message, and now, this”  

“Maybe…we can call a truce?” You ventured, trying to inch around him, but he moved with grace to block you instantly cornering you against the counter with a raised eyebrow. 

“Not a chance, sugar.” His voice dropped to a low murmur, making your skin prickle with his honeyed voice. “But don’t worry. I’ll keep quiet. Wouldn’t want to wake the twins, after all.” He smiled, that same calm smile, and you realized you were dead. 

You bit your lip, but you knew you were done for. Suguru was already tilting his head, his mouth right by your ear as he whispered, “You know I don’t like to be teased, princess. And you know exactly what happens when you do.”

With a last, nervous laugh, you bolted, ducking under his arm to make a break for it. Nearly hitting the corner of the counter in the process. You barely made it past the bathroom door when you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist, effortlessly pulling you back to him. Before throwing you over his shoulder with a tap of his palm against your ass. 

“So we wanted to run?” He whispered, his tone dripping with amusement. “Cute” 

“Wait, wait, Sugu–” you tried to talk in between giggles as he was already leading you to the bedroom. Practically throwing you on the bed, before crawling on top of you. 

“You started this, Sugar,” he murmured, his voice warm and playful as he leaned down to nuzzle your neck, peppering a few light kisses. “And now you’re gonna deal with the consequences” A playful danger in his gaze. 

Yeah, you didn’t walk straight the next day and got good use out of that new gag he bought you. 

Nanami - Hahaha…Not Happening

You sent that sweet little text, along with a tantalizing selfie in the new black lace lingerie you’d picked up during your lunch break.

Nanami had been away on a mission for a few days, and you knew he’d be eager to see you again. So, naturally, you expected him to check his phone and be pleasantly surprised by the little gift you left in his messages—a photo of you looking irresistible, paired with a playful message:

"Hey Pumpkin 🎃! I was just thinking… how about I get you pregnant? Wouldn’t that be so cute? :)”

However, as luck would have it, he was sitting right next to Ino on the ride back, his stoic demeanor not faltering as he opened his phone expecting, perhaps, a picture of something you baked or a casual selfie. Definitely not a suggestive photo of you in lace and a not-so-subtle proposal.

He glanced at the screen, quickly closing his messages without so much as a reaction. Left on read.

You pouted, checking your phone again, hoping for a reply. Maybe he was busy? But as the minutes ticked by, you started to feel the anticipation—and the slightest hint of nervousness—building.

Later that night, you heard the front door open, and there he was, standing in the doorway with his usual calm, composed expression… but his gaze was focused, a little too serious.

"My wonderful wife likes to break rules, doesn’t she?” he said, his voice soft but carrying a distinct edge, as he took off his tie and closed the door behind him. You managed a nervous, wobbly smile.

“W-what do you mean?” you stammered, though you both knew exactly what he meant.

He raised an eyebrow. “What did I say about sending pictures like that to me at work?”

You swallowed, cheeks flushing, knowing full well you’d been caught red-handed. Oh, you were so screwed.

He walked over to the couch, his composure unwavering, and sat down, calmly patting his lap. “Come here,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically firm. “Over my lap. And you’re going to count to twenty.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding, but you moved toward him, knowing full well there was no getting out of this. As you settled over his lap, he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in that calm, measured tone that sent a thrill through you.

“Afterward,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, “I’m going to make good on that little proposal of yours until you can’t see straight.”

Yuki - Mommy? Sorry…Mommy? 

You and Yuki weren’t exactly ready for kids—far from it, actually. Every time you thought about it, you couldn’t help but remember the countless times Yuki had nearly killed Todo during their training. Still, that didn’t stop you from teasing her that she would be the one to carry the kids if you ever did decide to go down that road.

So, with a mischievous grin, you typed out a playful message:

"Mommy… sorry… Mommy? Can I please… get you pregnant 💗?

Her response came back immediately, so fast it made you giggle with excitement, kicking your little feet and a slight squeal.

"Mmm? So I have a little brat today? Good to know 💗 ✨. "

You stared at her response, heart pounding as you took in her words. A brat, huh? That wasn’t a title you earned often, but whenever Yuki bestowed it upon you, it usually meant she was in one of her rare, particularly teasing moods. You bit your lip, debating your options. Maybe disappearing for the weekend wouldn’t be the worst idea… 

You quickly considered your options. Fleeing the country was a bit extreme, but maybe a weekend in Osaka with your parents would be enough to dodge whatever Yuki had in store.

"Don’t even think about running, sweetheart. I’ll find you. I always do ;)"

You practically squeaked, knowing full well that no matter where you went, Yuki was more than capable of tracking you down. She wasn’t just a little sadistic—she was slightly crazy. You always did attract their crazies. 

Taking a deep breath, you decided to play it cool. 

“Who’s running? I’m just, uh, mentally preparing for all that, um… pregnancy talk, baby.”

You cringed a little as you hit send, knowing that your attempt to sound calm probably came off more like a nervous ramble. Her response came back almost instantly, each word dripping with that teasing edge you both dreaded and loved.

"Oh, baby, you’ll need a lot more than mental preparation. But don’t worry—I’ll take my time with you. You’ll have plenty of chances to beg.”

You felt a flutter in your tummy full of excitement that was mixed with nervousness as you read her message, knowing you were absolutely not getting out of this one. The idea of her calling you a “brat” was a warning—Yuki had every intention of putting you in your place, and you knew better than to test her when she was like this.

The thought crossed your mind to apologize, maybe even backtrack, but another part of you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at the challenge. You typed a quick reply:

“Well, Yuki, I guess you’ll just have to show me how much of a brat I really am, huh?”

The three little dots popped up immediately, and you barely had time to brace yourself before her reply came through:

“Oh, you can count on it, baby. Pack a bag—you’re spending the weekend with me. And don’t even think about complaining. Brats don’t get choices.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, you were so fucked. Literally.

Sidenote: Thank you for reading! I am planning on doing fluffy Mondays, a better way to start the week imo. Requests are appreciated! Open to angst requests too! I might make angsty days Fridays or Thursdays?

[revelboo]

ugh the bluestreak one really makes me feel things. I want to protect him and reassure him and be there for him and hold him and just let him be happy and loved 😭

Thank you for writing these fics the always make my day. I'm curious, do you have plans for the stories or do you come up with stuff as you write?

I have a rough idea where I’m going with these, but I’m not sitting down and outlining these by any means 😅

Where I Belong Pt 5

IDW Bluestreak x Reader

• “You can tell me to shut up, I won’t get mad,” he says watching your little legs swing where you’re stretched out on his desk on your belly, a blanket under you. He’s not allowed back on patrol just yet, but he can still work on the never ending supply of reports to be filed away. A boring enough job, but it’s nice to have you there with him. Someone to talk to as he works the datapad with one hand and drapes the other against your shoulders and back so you’re not shivering. You’re always worryingly cold and he likes the contact, the reminder that you’re there. That he’s not alone.

• Eyes closing as a servo presses between your shoulders, rubbing almost absentmindedly, you soak in the warmth of his touch. “You’re not bothering me,” you reassure him again. Because it’s apparent that he’s used to being told to stop talking and that makes you dearly want to slap someone. For being so big, being able to hurt you so easily, he’s shockingly careful with you like he’s afraid of accidentally breaking you. “I like your stories.” And you do, because it’s like he has years worth of anecdotes and stories he’s just been waiting to share. And he gets so excited about them, like a big kid. It’s adorable.

• “I’m sorry again that you can’t leave the Ark,” he mutters, watching from the corner of his optic as you glance at him. “You’re trapped here because of me. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.” It’s not fair to you that he took your freedom away without even asking because he’d been terrified. Clinging to you, pleading to not be left alone. And you’d stayed, reached out to him in return. He doesn’t know if it was only pity, but it means everything to him.

• Every worried word just melts your heart a bit more. “I chose to stay and I don’t regret it.” Pushing against his palm until he moves his big hand so you can climb to your feet and walk closer to him, head tipping back to meet those blue optics. Seeing the uncertainty there, the guilt. “I like it here.” With you. And you do. You like his company even if you’re essentially on alien house arrest. Makes you wonder what your boss thought when you just blipped off the face of the earth, house abandoned and destroyed. Maybe no one has even noticed you’re missing yet. Or cared. You’d been alone and okay with that, but Bluestreak needs you and it feels good to be needed.

• He’s reaching before he can think better of it, servos curling around you, but stopping short of actually touching you. Silently asking permission, if it’s okay. And your smile is amused as you take a little sideways step to press against his palm, allowing him to pick you up. So small and warm as he lifts you against him under his chin, against his neck where the mesh is most sensitive so he can feel you there. Reassuring himself. “Thank you,” he says, trying to not cling too tightly, but never wanting to let go. Knowing that like everyone else, no matter what you say now, you’ll get tired of him. You’ll leave him too. Everyone does in the end, but for now he can pretend.

Previous

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: continuing to struggle with coming to terms, reader seeks solace in Anya, trying and failing to confess, until they finally couldn't avoid it any longer.

tw: reader is bad at feelings.

a/n: this has become a series...

wc: 2k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

In response to your newfound feelings, you decided to do what you do best. Ignore it. Ignore the fluttering of your heart when Daisuke looked towards you after a joke, like he wanted to make you laugh specifically. Or the quiet moments, sitting side by side at night, you didn’t miss the way he would stare at you instead of the fake sky, making your insomnia problem worse. Or how he had become more touchy, how had you not noticed it before? They way he’d brush the back of his hand against yours when walking side by side, or how he’d bump shoulders with you more often than not, or the brief hugs he’d give you if you looked particularly down. 

It was eating at you, but you’d be damned if you were gonna say anything. You can’t remember a time you felt this strongly about someone. Sure, you’ve had passing crushes and found people attractive, but those all passed. But this? You were stuck, hurtling through space, with someone you not only found attractive, but were also falling for. You felt like you were going to tear your hair out. This wasn’t good for your health. It felt like you were going crazy. Not to mention the constant urge to just get all your aggression out by squeezing the living daylights out of Daisuke. 

It seemed you weren’t hiding your deteriorating mental state well. Finishing your daily tasks for Anya, she seemed to have noticed the tired look in your eyes…or maybe the eye bags, those might have been a dead give-away. 

“Have you been sleeping alright?” Anya asked, eyes holding concern. 

“As good as it’ll get,” You shrugged, deflecting the question. 

“If there’s something on your mind you can always talk to me,” She remarked. “It may be my job, but I also care about you.” That made you pause, biting your lip and you mulled over your options. Either keep your feelings to yourself and go nuts or talk to the only other person you feel comfortable with…

Sitting down, you kept your gaze on your lap, fiddling with your fingers, “I’ve…uh. I’ve come to a sudden realization.” 

“And what might that be?” Anya asked softly, watching your anxious movements with a trained eye. Your fidgeting grew worse, now messing with the sleeves of your uniform. If you said it outloud that would make it real, and that was what was holding you back. All these new emotions scared you, and for all you knew Daisuke only thought of you as a friend. The uncertainties of the whole situation made you want to grasp onto any semblance of control you held, and that was holding onto your emotions, keeping them in check and acting like you didn’t want to kiss the living daylights out of one of your crewmates. 

“I think I’m going crazy.”

It's not what you wanted to say, but the truth felt too heavy on your tongue, unable to push the words past your lips. Avoiding her gaze, you looked at the board behind her, eyes landing on a drawing of Jimmy with the word yimpy. Glaring at the image, you wondered why traces of Daisuke seemed to follow you no matter where you went. 

“Hmm,” Anya hummed, tapping her pen against the desk. “Why?”

“I…I,” You tried so hard to say it, to get the damn fuzzy yet heavy feelings off your chest, but your mouth wouldn’t let you. Thankfully, Anya was patient, analyzing you to make sure this wasn’t too serious to your mental health. Squeezing your hands into tight fists, you pushed through, the words finally spilling past your lips, “I think I’m falling for Daisuke!” 

Your eyes widened at how loud you said it, cheeks warming and glancing behind you to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Anya’s demeanor softened, letting out a small sigh of relief. You really scared her for a second. But now that the dam had broken, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from gushing. 

“I-I’ve never felt this way before and it’s so scary. And it’s hard to avoid because he’s always following me around and making me laugh, and when I’m with him it doesn’t seem so bad, but then when I’m alone I overthink everything. It’s driving me crazy.”

Anya nodded, taking in your words and coming up with a thoughtful response, “New things are scary. But it seems like you both really like each other. I’d say the best way to go about this is to confront the problem, tell Daisuke how you feel. As scary as it may be, it's better than keeping it in. Of course if you two do start dating then you’d both have to fill out some paperwork-”

“I think we’re skipping a step,” You said, words muffled as you shoved your face in your hands. 

…

You knew Anya was right. You should just tell him, that’s the most logical conclusion, but if you struggled to tell her, how the hell were you supposed to tell the actual person? You glanced at your main problem, wearily eyeing him as Swansea was trying to guide him in fixing a pipe. You weren’t an idiot, you knew that he liked you, but the question was how much? Was it all platonic? Maybe a hint of romantic feelings? Was he already crushing on you? How the hell were you supposed to know? It angered you, you were out of your depth and it was scary. 

“I did it!” Daisuke exclaimed, smiling brightly towards Swansea than you.

“Good job,” Swansea muttered gruffly. “You didn’t break anything this time.” 

When his eyes landed on you, expectant look in his eyes, you found yourself folding, “You did great.” Curse your traitorous heart speeding up when his grin brightened. He was nearly jumping across the halls, vibrating where he stood.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid,” Swansea shook his head. “The question is can you do it again?” 

“I’m sure he can,” You remarked offhandedly. The old man glanced at you before shaking his head, muttering something about kids these days. 

“Let’s take a ten minute break,” Swansea grumbled. “Not sure how much longer I can deal with you two.” You watched him leave with a raised eyebrow, your lips slightly lifted in a small smirk. 

It was silent for a few moments before Daisuke spoke up, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, tilting your head. “Yeah, why?”

“You just…seem a bit off,” He muttered, scratching the back of his neck. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snarked, eyes falling into a glare. 

“N-nothing bad,” He defended, holding his hands up like a shield. “You just…you can talk to me y’know. We’re friends after all.”

Letting out a sigh you deflated, “Sorry, I know. It’s just…hard to explain.”

“Harder to explain than stealing the Captain's scanner for some sweetener packets?”

“Hmm,” You genuinely thought about it, amused. “No, I don’t think I can beat that.” The two of you chuckled softly before it was quiet again. With the way Daisuke worriedly looked at you, you felt a bit guilty. You had been snapping at him more than usual (easy to beat as you never really snapped at him), taking out your frustrating emotions on those around you. You had been unfair, and now seems like the perfect time to finally get the weight off your chest…and apologize properly.

“I, uh, have something to admit,” You confessed, rubbing your arm awkwardly. “Just…let’s not make it weird-”

“Alright,” Swansea unknowingly cut you off, coming back in. “No more time to dawdle, the ship won’t fix itself.” You huffed, glaring at the ground. It was just your luck that right as you were about to do the grown thing and talk about your emotions someone had to cut you off.

Pushing yourself off the crate you were sitting on, you waved at the two on your way out, “I’ll see ya around.” Not looking back, you missed the way Daisuke watched you in concern.

…

You paused mid-turn, freezing when you heard someone knock on your door. Daisuke’s muffled call of your name rang through your room. Grumbling to yourself, you got up. It’s not like you were getting any sleep anyhow. Pulling down the handle, the door slid open to reveal Daisuke, his hair was ruffled and he was wearing his pajamas. A frown tugged at his lips, eyes watching your sluggish form. “Come in,” You murmured, stepping away from the door and sitting on your bed. Closing the door behind him, he sat next to you. No words needed to be shared, you knew exactly why he was here. Once again, you found the silence to be terribly loud, racking your brain on where to start. 

“I’m sorry for treating you like shit,” You apologized, gaze focused in front of you.

“What are you talking about?” Daisuke asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y’know,” You grumbled, picking at the blanket beneath you. “I keep snapping at you out of nowhere. It’s not right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh,” He nodded in realization.

“Yeah,” You sighed.

“Something been irritating you?” He asked leaning down to try and meet your gaze. 

“That's…I…” Once again, you felt your tongue grow heavy at the thought of admitting your feelings. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable was terrifying. It was like carving your heart out and serving it on a platter, hoping that he’d treat it with care. The question was, were you willing to put the knife to your chest and cut? 

Meeting his eyes, held with concern and something you couldn’t put your finger on, you could feel the knife twist.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Daisuke’s eyes widened with wonder, looking more awake than ever before, tanned cheeks turning red. He felt like he was dreaming, but at the same time it felt off. You were confessing to him, something he had hoped for…but you also seemed…sad. Like it was taking a toll on you, and if that was the reason why you were more easily irritated…does that mean you don’t like it? Was there a way to fall for someone and hate them for it? 

“And that’s a bad thing?” He managed to ask, voice wobbling in fear. 

“No,” You whispered, tilting your head down and facing your lap. “It’s just scary. I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“That’s okay,” Daisuke whispered back, inching his hand closer to your own. “I’m new to this too. We can figure it out. Together.” Biting your lip, you eyed his hand that stopped just before touching you. In a short burst of confidence you linked your pinkies, bathing in the warm feeling that expanded through your entire being instead of running from it. 

“Do you think you can stay?” You asked, your skin bristling at the vulnerability in your tone. 

You were silly to think that Daisuke would treat your heart carelessly. No, he was going to treat it tenderly, caring for it as if it were his own. In return, he carved his own heart out, giving you an equal offering. 

“Of course,” Daisuke nodded, his usual boyish smile more tender and warm. 

Bonus:

Both you and Daisuke had been late to breakfast, and Anya had a small hunch as to why. So she offered to get you both, ignoring the way Jimmy grumbled about you both being spoiled brats. Knocking on your door, she heard shuffling on the other side, hushed whispers, and finally footsteps walking towards the door. Cracking the door open, you peaked your head out, sleepy eyes staring up at the nurse.

“Good morning,” You muttered, voice still laced with sleep. 

“Good morning,” She greeted back with an amused smile. “You and Daisuke slept in.”

That seemed to make you wide awake, muttering curse words before rushing back into your room, a muffled sorry yelled through the door. Walking back to the main hull, Anya shook her head in amusement. It seems you finally followed her advice.

[gotham-adrenaline]

Can I make a request

Plsssss I never get picked can you do a

Tim Drake x reader where the reader is a girl and she lives with Tim in their own apartment and that she just came home from getting her hair done and it’s this awesome Red Robin streaked patterned in her hair and she surprises Tim plsssssssssss I never get pic for requests 😩😢😩😢😩😢

I gotchu babes- I got way too into my feels during this so the fluff may be so thick it'll choke you, but hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Tim Drake x fem! reader

Word count: 1900

Warnings: None really, mentions of fear toxin and Tim's specific brand of issues, and also near-lethal levels of fluff

So maybe it was a little silly to be nervous, considering the situation. Or a lot silly. Either way, acknowledging the ridiculousness of your current feelings didn’t make them actually go away, much to your disappointment.

You just really wanted him to like it. You wanted him to understand like he always did. 

When you told Tim you were going to get your hair done this afternoon, he didn’t seem surprised, likely because you had told him you were considering getting a new style almost a month ago when you first got the idea. 

Stepping into the elevator, you made a mental note to send the salon a muffin basket at some point this week. The tip you left was fairly large, definitely larger than the standard amount people give, but most people don’t spend almost an hour making sure the shade of red dye will be absolutely perfect while being unable to explain why it needs to be so specific and why all the photo references are weird and extremely close up. The hair stylists who dealt with you today deserved far more than muffins. 

The black dye was much simpler thankfully. 

Your stylist warned you that the colours would wash out and change over time, which was to be expected really. The particular shade of your hair didn’t need to last forever, just long enough for you to get home. 

Because Tim had an eye for details. He noticed so much and cared enough to store all those tiny facts, and yet he was always surprised when you remembered anything about him, even major things. He was so used to going unseen, even by those close to him, and that wasn’t fair. 

You loved Tim. You loved him, and you noticed him, and you needed him to know that. You needed him to know that saw him and loved him because of that, not despite of it. 

Your reflection stared back at you in the spotless reflection of the elevator doors, black hair with large red streaks running through it hanging loose around your face. 

Yeah, maybe a dye job like this shouldn’t have taken as long as it did, but Tim would (hopefully) see the specific shades and understand. You didn’t spend so much time matching the red exactly to his Red Robin suit for no reason, after all. 

Tim “told you” he was Red Robin over 3 years ago now, if you consider telling you as him showing up at your apartment (the one before Tim and you moved in together, a tiny flat in a less-than-ideal neighbourhood of Gotham), bleeding and suffering a mild reaction to fear toxin. He insisted on “guarding you” until Batman (who is apparently Bruce Wayne? Sometimes you truly hate Gotham) showed up half an hour later and found Tim curled up, unconscious, on your coach with you trapped underneath him (for safety reasons, of course). 

When he showed up the next day looking like a kicked puppy, clutching a container of baked goods from Alfred, he seemed genuinely surprised when you steered him inside and back to the coach with a cup of hot chocolate so he could explain while comfortable (“Tim, I saw you less than 12 hours ago, bleeding on my kitchen floor and shaking in fear while trying to protect me from people who weren’t there. Sit down before I make you.”). 

And yeah, sure, maybe it would have been nice to know the guy you’ve been dating for a year was a vigilante who fought criminals and patrolled Gotham every night, but that knowledge could be incredibly dangerous for you, Tim and his whole family. You got it, as much as you could as a civilian, anyhow. This is the same guy who got injected with a new strain of Crane’s drug and immediately became so terrified you were in danger that he ran from his entire family to ensure your safety. You couldn’t argue that he didn’t care enough to tell you about his night job even if you wanted to, not after something like that. 

Even now, you could tell that the obligation of being Red Robin weighed on him, especially recently. He’d been stuck on different missions almost constantly this entire last month and when he finally made it home during the small breaks in between, he was exhausted and usually in pain. Then he’d try to ask you about your day as if his hands weren’t trembling from sleep deprivation. And worse, he’d look guilty when you ushered him into the shower and heated leftover soup for when he got out, apologizing after he nearly fell asleep sitting up at the table as you told him about the new drama at your job. 

As if the world nearly ending at least twice within two weeks was his fault. As if he wanted to be so busy lately, working to his breaking point. As if he hadn’t been trying so desperately to be available for you, insisting on flying straight back to Gotham after a battle instead of resting, calling you almost every night before you went to bed regardless of time zones, asking Alfred to drop off brownies because you mentioned craving them offhandedly in a message the night before. 

As if he hasn’t made sacrifices for you time and time again. 

So yeah, you missed him like hell over this past month, but you also loved him more than enough to compensate for that pain. And Tim showed how much he loved you in return so clearly it almost hurt that he couldn’t see it. He didn’t need to feel guilty that being Red Robin made life difficult recently, that was out of control. Everything that he could have done to be here for you, he did. And you saw that. You saw him. 

The elevator dinged gently, startling you out of your thoughts. Slipping out the doors as they slid open, you dug your keys out of your pocket as you approached the apartment. 

It wasn’t always easy to tell, but Red Robin’s uniform was a different shade of red than Robin’s. While the style of both outfits has changed over time, Tim always kept the colour tones individual. Once, cuddled up with you in a pillow fort you both assembled on the living room floor during a movie night, Tim admitted that it was intentional. That he sometimes still needed the reminder that Red Robin was different, a separate entity from Robin. That he was different. And that those differences could be a good thing. 

So it just wasn’t fair that he felt guilty over something he suffered so much for when it was all for the sake of others. He gave so much to protect people, including you, and still tried to make sure you knew you were loved. 

So maybe matching your hair perfectly to the colours of the Red Robin outfit probably wasn’t the biggest gesture in the world, but it meant something to you, and knowing Tim, he’d understand what you were trying to say. And if he didn’t, well, you’d have to trap him on the coach for another emotional conversation, even if he whined the whole time. 

The front door opened with a click and you pushed inside, hanging your keychain on the hook near the coat rack. Tim’s voice drifted out from the living room, talking with someone on the phone. Admittedly, you were still a bit nervous, but this was Tim, and you loved him. With a measured breath, you walked into the room. 

“-but that’s not how donating works, Damian, and being a Wayne doesn’t mean you can try and steal elephants from the zoo- no, I don’t care that she looked lonely and that they’re Dick’s favourite animal, you could have-” Tim’s mouth clicked shut mid-sentence when he saw you, staring wide-eyed as you enter the doorway. 

“I gotta go, call Dick,” and ignoring the younger boy's annoyed squawks you could hear from the other side of the room, Tim hung up the call. Setting his phone down on the couch, he fluidly rose to his feet and closed the distance between you both in 4 long strides. 

Hovering his hand beside a loose strand of red hanging by your face, he gently wrapped it around his finger and looked down at you, the smallest smile on his face.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is gentle, far quieter than it was on the phone a minute ago, as if speaking too loud would break the moment and you’d disappear in his hands. “This is new.”

And of course Tim would ask a question without making it a question, as if you tripped and somehow accidentally got your hair dyed in his colours. 

You hummed, leaning into him further as he fiddled with the bright piece of hair, a smile of your own pushing across your lips. “Yeah. You like it?”

Tucking the lock behind your ear, Tim pulled you even further into his arms, the hug so encompassing you could hear his voice rumbling through his chest. 

“You’re wearing my colours, baby,” He laughed disbelievingly, long fingers carding through your hair, drifting from black to red and then back again. “Yeah. I like it.”

Sighing into his shirt and letting him take some of your weight, your eyes drifted shut, focusing on his steady heartbeat and the pleasant shivers across your skin from his caresses. 

“Hey,” Tim whispered, hand sliding down to cup your cheek and tilt your head to look him in the eye, and he looked so soft right now in a way you haven’t seen recently, too stressed and guilty to indulge in himself like this. “I missed you.”

“I know.” 

Pressing yourself up to meet his lips, you allowed your hand to drift into his own hair, keeping your movements as slow and loving as you could. 

With the life your lover has lived, Tim knows how cheap words could be, so you found yourself trying to show how much you loved him in other ways. With homemade soup and pillow forts and stupidly long hair appointments. But just in case-

Pulling back after only a few seconds, you cradled him close and grinned up at him. “I love you.”

And he got it. Of course he did. Because it’s Tim, who noticed all those tiny details, all the things he could about you, and loved you because of those details and not despite of them. Yeah, he could be blind when it came to people's affection for him, and the stress of recent events only made his mind fixate further on the “what ifs”, on what he sees as his own inadequacies, but even he couldn’t miss this. 

When he kissed you again, he was smiling so wide you both had to pull away far too soon. He pressed his lips to your forehead instead, hiding his grin against you. 

“I love you too,” and then, “Thank you.”

And it’s hard to say what exactly he was saying thank you for. Thank you for supporting him as Red Robin enough to wear his colours, even knowing the teasing you’ll receive from the rest of his family? Thank you for understanding that he missed you, even if he couldn’t come home? Thank you for loving him? 

It didn’t make a difference, in the end. You understood what he meant.

[faithless-hoaxx]

Hey, I'm here with a Hot Take you may need to sit down for: I don't think Kit should still be a Shadowhunter by the end of TWP

Looking back, I don't think he's ever indicated he personally feels like he belongs as one. He chooses to become a Shadowhunter in LA because of Ty, because he thinks it solidifies him as a member of the Blackthorns and their community, and will let him fit in with the people he believes he belongs with. Then, we go to Devon with Tessa and Jem, and he tells Jem that if he gives Kit more time, he can be more like Will. He trains because he thinks it will make him more like Will Herondale, who Tessa and Jem are known to love. Then, he asks Jace to help him be stronger because he isn't a kid anymore and that being a Shadowhunter is how he protects his loved ones

Being a Shadowhunter is a means to an end for Kit - it's how he lives up to his last name and protects his loved ones from the other part of him, the First Heir part that puts them in danger. And, yeah, he's good at it and he probably finds something in the training, but he's not Jace and Emma who enjoy Shadowhunting because they enjoy being strong warriors, and he's not Alec and Simon and everyone else who do it to help others. The only people Kit wants to help are the ones he's close to, and he shouldn't be made to feel he's responsible for fighting demons because that's the only connection he has to his family and friends, and the only reason they'll keep him around

'Cause, I don't know about you, but I think that's just gonna make his already apparent abandonment issues and identity crisis worse. He's already always being told who or what he is, whether that be the Lost Herondale or the descendant of the First Heir. Hell, I think it was Diana who said Kit has to get used to not being able to grieve his father because "he's a Shadowhunter"

He's 18, he shouldn't feel like being a Shadowhunter is the only direction he can take in life. And he's in a perfect place to explore everything else he can be - neither Jem nor Tessa are the traditional "Shadowhunter"

You can want him to be a badass and a famous Shadowhunter people revere and rule Faerie - and I respect that - but I want him to save the world and then realize he wants a job at an ice cream place in Devon where he makes the visiting children laugh by making faces out of sprinkles and twisting their napkins into animals while his boyfriend reads a book at one of the tables. I want him to walk dogs for fun because he likes running after them in the parks and Mina loves petting them

I want him to choose to do something for himself, and I want him to know that the people he loves will want him and support him regardless

[mcflymemes]

DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD PROMPTS PT 1 *  assorted dialogue from the first hour of the video game

somebody's gotta stop him... and that's where you come in.

so... where were we?

our story begins where all great stories begin: with the seediest bar in town and a missing contact.

let's try this again.

you think you can come into my bar and make demands?

i'm not leaving until i know where she is.

be ready to talk by the time i get to you.

darling... you're adorable.

for the record, there was probably an easier way to do that than fighting an entire bar.

what'd i have to worry about? you were there watching my back.

break's over.

something must have gotten them riled up.

should we be in more of a hurry to get out of here?

i have to talk him down.

are they after us?

we don't have time to get arrested.

you're safe now. get inside and bar the doors.

there are a lot of scared people out here.

what about you two? are you okay?

have you got my gear?

can you get us there, [name]?

this is nowhere near my neighborhood.

eyes up! we've got company!

used to fight these assholes every day.

i'm back on the job.

isn't that a coincidence?

you said you had a lead?

that's where your man is hiding.

you told me he was working alone.

i'll take it from here.

take care of the team for me.

hope i'm not interrupting.

let's buy him some time.

i have taken precautions to minimize the damage.

people are dying right now.

you need to listen. please.

people are always dying. it is what they do.

shit. we need a better plan.

what if we disrupt the ritual?

the storm could tear you apart.

you came a long way and made a valiant effort.

this story does not end in my downfall.

you have no idea what you have done.

i know what i did.

i was not destroying the world.

why am i here?

had i the power to control you, i would have already used it.

get out of my head!

i do not want to be here any more than you do.

what are you talking about?

thanks to you, though, i am now trapped.

you were innocently doing nothing when we came along.

[name] always said you'd have a big explanation for why none of this was your fault.

i am certain you will be fine.

you don't get to sit back and look smug!

what else could i possibly do?

you will soon see what i was trying to prevent.

this is your responsibility now.

look who's still with us!

trust me. i've had worse. gonna take more than a flesh wound to stop me.

turns out, you were right.

the plan did go a little wrong.

i should have come up with a better plan.

you worked with what you had. and you succeeded, by the way.

[name]. you've got this. i've seen your work.

there's a reason i dragged you into this whole mess.

you're clever. adaptable. and you don't know when to quit.

sorry, i didn't mean to barge in.

i really need to look around.

we should talk about things.

i'll work with it. you know me.

maybe our paths haven't crossed, but i know our work has.

we've just got to start somewhere.

this is a dangerous job. everyone knew that signing on.

you don't slow down for much, do you?

let's stop worrying about me and go do that.

come get me when you're ready to go.

you're sure that wasn't just a dream?

i'm not certain of anything.

we're not out of danger.

we need to get out there and stop them.

we can't just sit here and do nothing.

we need to investigate. figure out what we're dealing with before we rush in and make things worse.

this time, if we see a shot, we take it.

you sure you're up for this?

it's not working! i can't contain it!

you all were supposed to stop him.

it didn't go as cleanly as we hoped.

things just got a whole lot worse.

let's just say they weren't known for their kindness.

you're in no condition to fight.

[amethystarachnid]

Hello! I hope your requests are open!

Can I request Tony stark x reader where the reader is kind of quiet, and nerdy. She works as research assistant or smth. She's the only one who's not smitten by Tony the moment she saw him (like everybody else), she's kind of given up on love after several failed attempts and just wants to focus on her job but Tony being Tony, takes it as a challenge to make her fall for him.It turns into a bet with the team, but over the course of his plans, it's HIM who falls for her and not the other way around. I'll leave the ending to you.

Thank you so much for sharing your gift of writing with us, I'm literally devouring your fics.🩷🩷🩷

FALLING MR. STARK

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff, tiny bit of angst ?

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.7k

ᯓ★ Summary: You're the new research assistant at the Stark Tower's lab and Tony is shocked when you're not immediately at his feet, how is it possible? He decides to take matter into his own hands and try to make her fall in love with him, but what if he drags himself down too?

ᯓ★ TW(s): pure fluff

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You step into the sleek, polished Stark Tower lobby with a small knot of anxiety in your stomach. Just keep it professional, you remind yourself. This is Tony Stark. THE Tony Stark. But you’re here for the job, not to become his latest fangirl.

Clutching your tablet a little tighter, you remind yourself of the opportunities this role as Tony Stark's research assistant brings. You're here because you’re good at your work, not because you're starstruck like everyone else in the building seems to be. You've caught a few glances already—other interns looking at you as if to say, Good luck.

One last deep breath and you’re on the elevator, speeding up to the penthouse lab. Focus on the job, you chant mentally. Forget about Tony Stark.

The doors open with a soft chime, and you step into the world that is Stark's lab. All sleek metal, futuristic screens, holographic projections hanging in mid-air. But it’s messy, too; tools and wires strewn across tables, half-finished projects everywhere. You blink, a little in awe despite yourself.

“New kid!”

The voice is unmistakably Tony Stark. He’s across the room, tinkering with something metallic on one of the tables. You watch as he pops his head up, gives you a quick once-over, and then raises his eyebrows.

“You must be the research assistant. Well, welcome to the circus,” he says, gesturing to the lab around him. He doesn’t smile, but there's something mischievous in his eyes, a spark that tells you he’s about to say something clever.

“You’re… taller than I thought you’d be,” you manage, immediately regretting how awkward you sound.

He chuckles, not missing a beat. “Oh, I get that all the time. People expect me to be a mythical 6’7”—sorry to disappoint.” He doesn’t look sorry, not at all. “And you must be…?” He gives you a look that’s half curiosity, half challenge.

You introduce yourself, keeping it simple. “I’m here for the research position. Dr. Wu recommended me.”

“Oh, Dr. Wu?” His eyebrows arch slightly, and he looks vaguely impressed. “The hypercritical nanotech expert?”

You nod. “I worked with him on a few projects at MIT.”

Tony whistles, long and low, then gives you an approving nod. “MIT, huh? Impressive. Alright, this might work. Welcome aboard, MIT.” He glances around, clearly expecting something. “Uh, welcome package?” he says to the room in general.

That’s when you notice him. Bruce Banner is sitting at a desk to the side, looking up from a tablet, amused. “I don’t think we have a welcome package for the lab, Tony.”

Tony shrugs. “Then make one,” he says, completely serious. Bruce rolls his eyes but gives you a small wave.

You give a hesitant smile and wave back, feeling a little out of place. The two of them clearly have an easy camaraderie that makes you a bit envious. You’re used to lab partners who barely make eye contact.

“Alright, let’s get you started.” Tony’s voice snaps you back. He tosses you a tablet loaded with files, and you almost fumble it but manage to catch it. “Your job, MIT, is to make me look good. Which, I know, sounds impossible given my natural state of perfection, but I believe in you.” He winks, that infamous Stark smirk firmly in place.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Charm alert, your brain warns you. But you’ve met enough self-absorbed professors and cocky lab partners to know not to take it seriously. You focus on the files instead, scanning the data.

“What exactly is the project?”

Tony grins. “Top secret nanotech project. I’d tell you more, but then I’d have to kill you. Or, more likely, have Banner kill you, because I don’t like blood.” He shrugs. “Messy.”

Bruce sighs. “Ignore him. It’s nothing that dramatic. We’re working on a nanotechnology enhancement for military armor—something that can respond to injuries in real-time.” He gives Tony a pointed look. “For field emergencies. It’s supposed to save lives.”

“That, and it’ll make me look really cool,” Tony adds, completely straight-faced.

You nod thoughtfully, focusing on the project details. Field-responsive nanotech… That’s not only cutting-edge; it’s insanely hard to develop. If you’re successful, this would be revolutionary.

You’re so absorbed in the file that you don’t notice Tony watching you until he whistles. “Wow. You didn’t faint, you didn’t swoon. Usually, I get at least a little swooning.”

You glance up, startled. “Why would I swoon? We’re talking about a project, not—”

“Not me?” He’s grinning, clearly enjoying your lack of reaction. “Exactly. I like you already, MIT.”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Leave her alone, Tony.”

Tony raises his hands in a mock-surrender. “What? I’m just making conversation. Besides,” he leans a little closer, his gaze intent, “It’s been a while since I’ve had someone around here who isn’t immediately dazzled by… well, all of this.” He gestures at himself, a theatrical flair in his movements.

You just blink, unimpressed. “I’m not here to be dazzled,” you say, perhaps a bit too bluntly. “I’m here to do the job. Dr. Wu said it’d be a challenge.”

Tony’s grin widens, looking genuinely delighted. “Alright, then. A challenge it is.” There’s a glint in his eye, a challenge of his own. But you turn back to your tablet, refusing to play into it.

In the corner, Bruce hides a smirk.

The morning passes surprisingly smoothly. Once you get over the initial wave of nerves, you’re focused and methodical, poring over the schematics, asking the right questions, noting potential improvements. Bruce is kind, offering pointers, while Tony hovers nearby, occasionally making cheeky comments or interrupting with “helpful” insights.

When lunch rolls around, Tony turns to you, smirking. “We do have this tradition in the lab, you know. Lunchtime is brainstorming time. Or, as I like to call it, Stark’s Think Tank.”

Bruce groans. “No one calls it that, Tony.”

Tony ignores him, fixing his gaze on you. “So. MIT. Want to join us for lunch?”

You shake your head, already reaching for your bag. “I’ll grab something downstairs. Thank you, though.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. Tony, on the other hand, looks genuinely shocked.

“You don’t want to… eat with us?”

You smile politely, keeping your tone casual. “I have some notes to review, and, um… I’m sure you’ll be fine without me.”

Tony looks at Bruce, then back at you, his expression one of mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Rejected on day one.”

Bruce chuckles. “You’re losing your touch, Tony.”

But you just smile, barely managing to suppress a laugh as you step toward the elevator. Once inside, you release a breath. Tony Stark is… something. But if he thinks you’re just another smitten intern, he’s got another thing coming.

When you return after lunch, there’s a distinct change in the atmosphere. Tony’s throwing you sidelong glances as you work, and Bruce keeps snickering every time he catches him doing it. You keep your head down, ignoring them, determined to keep it professional.

Finally, Tony breaks the silence. “Okay, MIT, since you’re apparently immune to my charms, I have a proposal.”

You look up, wary. “What kind of proposal?”

Tony grins. “A bet.” He leans on the desk, folding his arms. “Let’s say I can get you to fall for me. All it’ll take is… one month.”

You blink, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

Bruce snorts. “You’re delusional, Tony.”

But Tony’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Hear me out. You’re all about the job, which, fine, admirable. But what if I made you a different kind of job offer? An experiment, if you will. One month. You let me charm you, show you my best side. And if I don’t succeed…” He pauses, thinking. “I’ll donate a million dollars to your research fund. No strings attached.”

Your mouth drops open. A million dollars? You know the fund he’s talking about; Dr. Wu had mentioned it. It’s a cutting-edge grant, but it’s constantly underfunded. A million dollars would make an enormous difference.

“And if you do succeed?” you ask skeptically, crossing your arms.

Tony shrugs, smiling. “Then you admit you were wrong about me.” His eyes are dancing, challenging. “No harm, no foul.”

You can’t help but laugh, amused at the absurdity of it all. “Fine,” you say, still laughing. “One month, and you donate either way.”

Tony’s grin is dazzling, triumphant. “I knew you’d come around, MIT.”

You shake your head, a reluctant smile creeping onto your face. “I’m not promising anything beyond one month. This is purely professional curiosity. No…dazzling involved.”

Tony places a hand over his heart, feigning a wound. “Ouch. You know how to hit a guy where it hurts. But sure, let’s call it…research.”

Bruce mutters under his breath, “Yeah, scientific research on Tony Stark’s bruised ego.”

Tony shoots him a playful glare. “Not a bruise, Banner. Just…a challenge accepted.”

With that, Tony goes back to tinkering, but you catch him sneaking glances at you every now and then, clearly strategizing his approach like you’re the world’s most intricate problem. And as you return to reviewing data, a strange feeling bubbles up in your chest—a mix of thrill and disbelief. You’re still shaking your head at the whole bizarre setup, yet there’s an undeniable excitement sparking under the surface.

By the time the day wraps up, you’ve combed through a good chunk of the project files, lost in thoughts about nanotechnology application improvements, but that undercurrent of Tony’s strange “challenge” lingers. It’s the last thing you expect to happen on day one of a serious research assistant role, but if you’ve learned one thing today, it’s that Tony Stark doesn’t exactly follow convention.

As you head back to the elevator, you hear Tony call out, “Same time tomorrow, MIT?”

You pause, glancing back. “Only if I don’t find a better offer between now and then.”

Tony grins, undeterred. “Good luck finding someone who offers a better lab setup or a more brilliant boss. But hey, feel free to try.”

The doors slide shut on his mischievous expression, and you exhale, trying to process the day. You’re not sure what you expected working for Tony Stark, but whatever it was, it definitely didn’t involve million-dollar bets or being challenged to resist his charms.

The real question is: can you make it through a month of this without getting pulled into Tony’s world more than you already have?

Only time—and maybe a little bit of your own curiosity—will tell.

The next morning, you step into Stark Tower with a resolution: you’re not going to let Tony Stark’s ridiculous wager get in the way of your job. He may be on a mission to sweep you off your feet, but you’re just as determined to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground. You’re here for your career, not for some rom-com subplot orchestrated by an overly confident billionaire.

When you reach the lab, Tony is already there, leaning against a worktable, his expression lit up with anticipation. He’s wearing a dark suit jacket over a T-shirt and jeans, casual but effortlessly put-together. He glances up as you walk in, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Morning, MIT,” he calls, flashing you a grin. “Sleep well?”

You ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “Well enough, thanks. Ready to work?”

“Work?” Tony pretends to look horrified. “You come to Stark Tower, a mecca of science and wonder, and you want to work?” He winks, moving closer as he talks. “How about I give you a tour of the best hidden spots in the tower instead?”

You glance at him suspiciously. “A tour? You mean something not essential to the project?”

“Oh, but it’s essential,” he insists, tapping a finger against his temple. “Every new hire needs to understand the layout to feel comfortable here. And anyway, it’s good for morale.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And this is part of your…bet?”

Tony grins. “Absolutely. How else am I supposed to ‘dazzle’ you if we’re just here knee-deep in nanotech all day?”

You fight a smile. As much as you’d like to pretend you’re unmoved, there’s something undeniably charming about how unabashedly Tony is throwing himself into this ridiculous game. “Alright, fine. But only because I want to make sure you’re not actually wasting time when there’s research to do.”

Tony leads the way, hands in his pockets, throwing you little side glances like he’s testing the waters. The elevator whisks you up to the higher floors, and you find yourself standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that offers a breathtaking view of New York City. It’s a rare moment of calm amid the bustling high-tech environment of Stark Tower.

Tony watches you with a faint smile as you take it in, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a “wow.” You settle for a nonchalant, “Nice view.”

He chuckles, clearly entertained. “You really don’t play along, do you?”

“I don’t see the point,” you say with a shrug, crossing your arms. “I’m here to work on nanotech, not to become part of Tony Stark’s latest challenge.”

“Ouch.” He places a hand over his heart in mock-pain. “Alright, alright. You want to get straight to work? We’ll work. But just so you know,” he leans closer, eyes glinting, “this isn’t over.”

The elevator dings, and you’re whisked back down to the lab before you can respond.

As the day unfolds, you’re focused and precise, working your way through JARVIS’s energy reports and identifying areas where efficiency could improve. Tony is more hands-on than you expected, frequently hovering over your shoulder, making suggestions, throwing in the occasional joke. It’s distracting, but you’re determined to ignore it. You’re making great progress—until he insists on breaking for lunch.

“Okay, lab rules say we take lunch together,” Tony announces, dramatically sweeping a hand towards the door. “Team-building exercise.”

Bruce, who’s quietly sipping his coffee in the corner, raises an eyebrow. “We don’t have a rule about that, Tony.”

“Well, now we do.” Tony looks at you expectantly, hands on his hips. “Come on, MIT. We’re doing this.”

Reluctantly, you follow him, reminding yourself that it’s just one lunch. It’s not like this is some kind of romantic date—it’s Tony Stark. Yet, as he leads you to a surprisingly cozy dining area tucked in a quiet corner of the tower, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s crafted this specifically to impress.

He orders for both of you, launching into a vivid, absurd tale about his first attempt at nanotech back in his younger, even more reckless days. As he talks, you can’t help but laugh at his dramatic descriptions of failures and mishaps.

“You really made an entire suit that could only walk backward?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It was brilliant,” Tony insists, unbothered. “Who else would think to make reverse-only armor?”

You’re about to reply when the waiter brings your meals. It’s an elegant setup, far nicer than you’d expect in a corporate cafeteria. Tony has somehow managed to get actual silverware, real napkins, and a plate that wouldn’t look out of place in a Michelin-star restaurant. You blink in surprise, trying not to laugh.

“This is…a little extra,” you say, picking up your fork.

“Only the best for MIT,” he says, pretending to look humble, but the twinkle in his eyes betrays him.

As you eat, you can feel yourself letting your guard down a little, despite all your best intentions. There’s something genuine about the way he interacts with you—like he’s actually interested in your opinions and ideas. It’s confusing, unexpected, and oddly flattering.

After lunch, Tony walks you back to the lab, his usual smirk softer than before. “So, how am I doing so far?”

You glance at him, not sure if he’s serious. “Doing?”

“Making an impression. You know, that whole bet thing.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes.

You can’t help but laugh. “Is that what this was about? Lunch? A fancy plate and a reverse-walking suit story?”

He tilts his head, amused. “Well, it’s a start.”

You pause, meeting his gaze head-on. “Honestly? You’ll need to try a little harder.”

His eyes flash with challenge, and he leans in, crossing his arms. “Game on.”

The next day, Tony is waiting in the lab when you arrive, wearing a grin that looks suspiciously proud of itself. “Morning, MIT.”

You give him a skeptical look. “What’s that smile for?”

“Oh, nothing,” he says casually, gesturing to a table nearby. “Except for the fact that today, you’re going to help me test the latest upgrade on the Iron Man suit.”

You stare at him, not sure you heard correctly. “I…am going to what?”

Tony’s grin widens. “You’re going to help test the suit. I figured if you’re going to work with me, you might as well get a hands-on experience. Consider it…research.” He gives a little shrug, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

The logical part of you wants to say no, but there’s another part—a braver, more curious part—that’s intrigued. Maybe even excited.

“Alright,” you say cautiously. “But if something goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.” He’s already on the move, striding toward the table and gesturing for you to follow.

The suit is impressive up close—sleek, powerful, with that trademark gleaming red and gold. Tony walks you through the basics, showing you how the HUD works, explaining the safety features, and letting you get a feel for the controls.

“Ready?” he asks, looking as excited as a kid with a new toy.

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

As you move through the test, you feel the thrill of operating something so powerful, so cutting-edge. Tony’s coaching you the whole time, patient and encouraging. He watches every movement you make, eyes sharp and attentive. He doesn’t just want to see how you perform; he’s genuinely invested in showing you the best of his creation.

When the test ends, you pull off the helmet, grinning despite yourself. “That was…incredible.”

Tony chuckles. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

“Okay, maybe I underestimated the suit.” You glance down at it, still in awe. “But I’m still not swooning over the man who made it.”

He laughs, holding up his hands. “Fair enough. But don’t worry—I’ve got plenty more tricks up my sleeve.”

Over the next few days, Tony’s attempts to charm you become more creative—and increasingly ridiculous.

One afternoon, he brings a coffee machine into the lab and insists on making you a cup himself. You watch, unimpressed, as he fiddles with the settings, claiming he’s a “certified barista.” The resulting cup is…interesting, but his look of hopeful expectation makes you take a sip anyway. It’s terrible, but you suppress a grimace and give him a thumbs-up.

Another day, he brings in an old vinyl player and insists on playing “background music for geniuses” as you work. He puts on a jazz album and leans back, smugly watching you react to every unexpected piano chord. He looks at you for approval, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the dramatics. But deep down, you find yourself laughing, wondering what he’ll come up with next.

Each day, he throws himself into the bet with new enthusiasm, his charm bordering on absurd. He leaves little notes on your workstation, each one signed with his signature “TS.” He insists on accompanying you to lunch, despite your protests. He even brings Bruce into the antics, convincing him to try (and fail) to talk you into a “team outing” one Friday night.

And, despite your best efforts, you start to look forward to it. There’s something exciting, almost comforting, about the way he’s trying so hard to make you laugh, to make you see him differently. And little by little, you find yourself warming up to him, against all logic.

One evening, after everyone else has left the lab, Tony finds you still at your desk, poring over schematics. He leans against the door, watching you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Burning the midnight oil?” he asks.

You look up, startled, and smile a little, trying to hide how flustered you feel under his gaze. “Just finishing up. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, he walks over and sits across from you, looking more serious than usual. “You know, I thought this bet was just going to be a fun game. But now I find myself actually…wanting to know you better.”

You feel your heart skip, and suddenly you’re not sure if this is just a game anymore, either.

“Tony…”

He leans forward, holding your gaze. “Give me a chance, MIT. Outside of the bet, outside of the lab. Just…let’s see where it goes.”

And for once, you’re not sure how to say no.

It all starts with a simple suggestion from Tony: “Let’s grab dinner.” He says it casually, like it’s no big deal, like he doesn’t have his heart hammering in his chest, waiting for your reaction. He suggests a little place he “happens” to know, one that he swears has the best food in New York. And somehow, you agree. Maybe because he calls it a “work dinner.” Maybe because you tell yourself it’s not a date.

When you meet him in the lobby, you’re wrapped up in a scarf and peacoat, your hair loose, casual. You don’t look nervous, but Tony notices the way you glance around, adjusting the strap of your bag, as if double-checking that this really is work-related. He plays it off, putting his hands in his pockets, trying to appear as calm as you do, even though he’s never cared so much about a single dinner before.

The place he picked is upscale but cozy, full of candlelight and quiet jazz that hums in the background. He watches as you scan the menu, oblivious to his attention on you, fully absorbed. It’s refreshing; you’re genuinely curious about what’s on the menu, unbothered by the scene he knows he can make in places like this. Normally, dinner with Tony Stark comes with a string of expectations and eyes on him—but tonight, he’s glad it’s just the two of you, tucked in a corner booth, your focus solely on him.

“So,” he starts, leaning back in his seat, “tell me: where did Dr. Wu find you? I don’t meet many people who can keep me on my toes the way you do.”

You shrug, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Dr. Wu and I met at MIT. He’s probably the only person who could make me feel like I didn’t know enough in a single afternoon.”

Tony laughs. He knows exactly what you mean. “Sounds like Wu, alright. So, what did he think when you said you were coming to work for me?”

Your smile widens, eyes dancing with amusement. “He said, ‘You might be the first person who isn’t charmed by him within five minutes.’ I think he was worried for your ego.”

Tony grins, holding his drink in the air. “To deflated egos.”

You clink glasses, and as you sip, he wonders how long he can keep himself in check, how long he can keep this light, keep it casual, without betraying how much he’s starting to feel for you. Because while this may have started as a silly bet—a challenge to make you fall for him—now it’s… different. He’s starting to look forward to these moments with you more than he expected. He isn’t sure when his own bet began to backfire, but he can feel it, slipping slowly out of his control.

Over the next few weeks, “work dinners” become a regular thing. No one in the lab says anything, but he knows Bruce has noticed, if the amused glances he sends Tony’s way are anything to go by. Every time Tony catches one, he just shrugs it off. He’s Tony Stark, after all. If he wants to grab dinner with his research assistant, it’s not anyone else’s business. And anyway, you don’t seem to mind.

The second “not-a-date” is Italian, at a small, family-owned spot he tells you he’s been “dying to try.” The third is sushi, which he’s surprised to learn you’ve only had once before. By the time the fourth rolls around, he notices you’ve stopped checking your watch. He takes it as a good sign, even though he’s not entirely sure why he cares so much.

After that, the “work dinners” turn into outings outside the lab, outings that don’t need any excuse. He brings you to an art exhibit that’s in town for a limited time, pretending he’s only taking you because he “figured you might find it interesting.” But really, he just wants an excuse to see you outside the sterile lights of the lab, wants to see how you react to something that isn’t made of metal and wires. When he watches your eyes widen at a particular piece, the way you study the brushstrokes with an intent focus, he has to swallow back a smile. He feels like he’s seeing you through a different lens, realizing how much depth there is to you, beyond the research and the numbers.

At the end of the night, he offers to walk you home, hands in his pockets to keep himself from offering his arm or some other foolish gesture. He catches himself hoping you’ll ask him to stay, to come in for a cup of coffee, maybe—but you just smile and thank him, and he feels an odd, unexpected ache when he watches you disappear up the stairs.

A few weeks later, Tony starts noticing something that surprises even him. When he sits in the lab with you, he’s not thinking about the project. He’s thinking about whether you’ve eaten lunch, whether you’ve taken any breaks, or even just whether you’ll smile at him when you catch him watching you. It’s frustrating, and it’s exhilarating, and for the first time, he feels like he’s the one chasing, the one on the hook.

One Friday night, he texts you out of the blue.

Tony Are you up for a drink?

Your response comes a few minutes later, and it makes him laugh.

You Tony, do you even know what ‘taking a break’ means?

He grins at his phone, knowing he’s won already.

Tony Well, there’s a first time for everything. Pick you up in 20.

Twenty minutes later, he’s outside your building, leaning against his car, watching the door with more anticipation than he’ll admit. You step out, looking a little surprised that he actually showed up. He swallows hard when he sees you in casual clothes—jeans, a sweater, hair falling loosely over your shoulders.

“Ready?” he asks, gesturing to the car with a small smile.

You nod, glancing down as you climb in. “Where are we going?”

He smirks. “Somewhere that’ll knock MIT’s socks off.”

He takes you to a rooftop bar with a stunning view of the city skyline, all twinkling lights and distant music. It’s beautiful, quiet, and for once, he doesn’t feel the urge to be Tony Stark, the billionaire genius. He just wants to be Tony, the guy who’s with you, wondering what you’re thinking as you look out over the city.

After a couple of drinks, he tells you stories—wild, outlandish ones from his younger days, stories about his first ridiculous inventions, and even a few that make you laugh so hard you nearly spill your drink. When he sees you laugh like that, unguarded and completely at ease, something in his chest feels tight, like he’s in over his head.

You lean on the railing, arms crossed, glancing over at him with a bemused smile. “So tell me,” you say, your voice soft, “was this what you had in mind with that bet?”

He blinks, caught off guard, and he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly? I didn’t expect to be the one falling for you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Your eyes widen, and he feels a thrill when he sees the faint color that rises in your cheeks. “You… what?”

There’s no going back now. He might as well lay it all out, admit it to you—and to himself. “Yeah,” he says, voice low and serious. “I fell for you somewhere along the way, MIT. Bet or no bet.”

You look at him, the city lights casting a warm glow over your face, and he wonders if you’ll walk away, if you’ll call him crazy, if you’ll tell him he’s crossed a line. But you don’t. You don’t say anything; instead, you just look at him, your gaze soft and questioning, as if you’re wondering how long he’s felt this way.

“So,” you say finally, voice quiet, “what does that mean for us?”

Tony smiles, surprised at how easily the words come. “It means I want this—want us—to be real. No games, no bets.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle between you. “If you want that, too.”

For a moment, you’re quiet, studying him, and he feels his heart racing, terrified that you’ll say no. But then you smile, a small, genuine smile that makes his heart feel like it’s about to explode.

“Alright,” you say softly. “Let’s see where this goes. No bets.”

From that night on, everything changes. Your “work dinners” turn into real dates—walks through Central Park, late-night coffees at quiet cafes, dinners at small, hidden places around the city. You both take it slow, careful, as if afraid to break whatever fragile thing is forming between you. But each night, when he drops you off at your door, he feels the pull, the urge to kiss you goodnight, to keep you close. And one night, he does.

It’s late, the city quiet around you, and as you turn to go inside, he can’t help himself. He reaches out, his fingers brushing yours, and when you look up at him, he leans down, his heart pounding in his chest. The kiss is gentle, careful, as if he’s afraid of scaring you off, but when you lean into him, his heart nearly stops.

You share inside jokes, stolen glances across the lab, the occasional “business meeting” that turns into hours of conversation about everything and nothing. Tony finds himself waking up each day with a renewed excitement, a sense of something he hasn’t felt in years: hope.

It’s the end of a long week, and somehow, you’ve both ended up in your apartment, the city a quiet hum beyond your windows. The two of you sit on the floor, leaning against the couch with a few empty wine glasses scattered around the table. You’ve got the TV on, and Tony managed to find a fake fireplace video with gentle crackling and flickering flames that cast warm, golden light around the room. It’s ridiculous, yet somehow perfect—a nod to that cliché romance neither of you ever thought you’d be in.

But here you are.

The quiet between you has a certain electricity, a kind of unspoken tension neither of you wants to name yet, though it’s impossible to ignore. Every so often, Tony’s knee brushes yours, or his shoulder leans just a little closer, and you feel the thrill of it like the first time, every time.

“So,” he says, breaking the silence, the familiar mischievous spark in his eyes. “What are we, exactly?”

You chuckle, glancing down at your glass, buying time with a sip of wine. “You mean… officially?”

He nods, his eyes warm but serious, searching yours. “Yeah. Officially.”

You tilt your head, feigning thoughtfulness, though you know exactly where this conversation is headed. “Well, I’d say we’re… colleagues.”

“Colleagues?” he scoffs, feigning offense. “You call this colleague behavior?” He gestures to the two of you, to the cozy setup that feels miles away from the cold lab. The corners of his mouth quirk up as he raises his eyebrows. “Would you share a fake fireplace with just anyone?”

You roll your eyes, laughing, and he leans a little closer, that soft, teasing look in his eyes. There’s something else in his gaze, though, something that’s been there since the beginning but has only grown stronger.

“Alright, fine,” you concede. “Maybe we’re… dating.”

His eyes light up at that, his grin widening. “Dating, huh? I like that. But it still sounds… I don’t know. Casual?”

You raise an eyebrow, your heart thudding just a bit faster. “Oh? So what do you want to call it, then, Mr. Stark?”

He shifts closer, his fingers tracing absentmindedly along the edge of his wine glass, his gaze fixed intently on you. “How about… ‘together’? Just you and me. Not just a bet or a fling. The real thing.” His voice drops, softer, more earnest than you’ve ever heard it. “I want this to be… official.”

Your breath hitches, and you can feel that tension building between you, thickening the air. “You really want that?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

He leans closer, his hand brushing against yours, warm and sure. “I think I’ve wanted it since day one. I just didn’t know it yet.”

His hand covers yours now, fingers intertwining, and the feel of his touch sends a shiver through you, every nerve ending suddenly on high alert. You hold his gaze, your heartbeat thundering in your ears, and the space between you feels charged, as if there’s something there that neither of you can ignore any longer.

“Then… I guess we’re together,” you whisper, feeling the weight of it settle over you, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Tony’s gaze darkens, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between you. His lips find yours, soft and seeking at first, but within seconds, the kiss deepens, the unspoken tension between you sparking into something electric. His hand comes up to cup your face, pulling you closer, and you feel the heat of him, the intensity that has simmered under the surface for so long finally released.

You’re barely aware of anything else as you both shift, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his lap as his mouth moves over yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. You lose track of time, of the fake fire flickering in the background, of anything but the way his hands feel on your skin, the way he holds you like he’s afraid to let you go.

His hands drift along your back, finding the hem of your shirt, and you feel a thrill as he slips his hands under the fabric, his touch warm and tantalizing against your bare skin. Your breath hitches as he trails kisses down your jaw, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, but his gaze filled with that same warmth, that tenderness that’s made you fall for him in ways you never expected.

You nod, pulling him closer, feeling a confidence and certainty that surprises you. “I’ve never been more sure.”

That’s all he needs. In a swift, smooth motion, he picks you up, carrying you toward the bedroom, his mouth finding yours again, and any last shred of hesitation disappears. He lays you down gently, his hands exploring, learning every inch of you as though he’s memorizing you, cherishing every moment. His lips trace a path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and you feel a thrill with every touch, every kiss, as if he’s igniting something within you that’s been waiting for him all along.

The night unfolds slowly, a delicious, intoxicating blur of touch and heat, a feeling of being completely and utterly consumed. Tony takes his time, savoring each moment, and with every touch, every whispered word, you feel yourself falling deeper, letting go of every last barrier. You’ve never felt so seen, so cherished, as you do with him, and by the time dawn breaks, you’re tangled together, breathless and completely, irrevocably his.

As the first light of morning filters in, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, his breath warm against your neck. For the first time, you let yourself relax into him fully, feeling that familiar warmth, that safety that only he can give.

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped up in his arms, you know that whatever label you put on this, it’s real.

You wake up to sunlight filtering through your curtains, a golden glow spilling across your bedroom. The warmth beside you, steady and comforting, reminds you of the night before. Tony’s arm is draped over you, his breathing soft and even. For a moment, you just lie there, letting yourself savor the stillness, the unexpected joy of waking up next to him.

As if sensing you’re awake, Tony stirs, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your shoulder. He opens his eyes, and a sleepy, boyish grin spreads across his face.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply, smiling back. There’s something so soft in his gaze that it takes you by surprise. “I could get used to this,” he adds, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You open your mouth to respond, but something nags at you—a fleeting thought that hits you like a cold splash of water. You glance at your alarm clock, and your eyes widen. “Oh no.”

“What?” Tony asks, still drowsy.

“We’re late,” you say, panic rising as you sit up. “We were supposed to be in the lab… half an hour ago!”

Tony’s eyes go wide. “Well, damn.” He runs a hand through his hair and laughs, but there’s urgency in his movements as he jumps out of bed. “Okay, so the lab, yeah? We can do this. Ten minutes and we’re there.”

In a flurry of movement, you both scramble to find your clothes. You pull on yesterday’s jeans and a shirt while Tony is somehow in his button-down and jacket in record time, still flashing that devil-may-care grin.

“Keys?” he asks, scanning the room like he’s trying to disarm a bomb.

You grab them from your nightstand, and in no time, you’re out the door, hurrying down the street to Stark Tower, laughing breathlessly at the absurdity of it all.

By the time you reach the lab, you’re both slightly out of breath, looking about as ruffled as you feel. You barely have time to steady yourself before the doors slide open and reveal Bruce, who glances up from his tablet with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, look who decided to join us,” he says, smirking just a little. His gaze shifts between the two of you, and you can feel him taking in the unmissable signs: Tony’s rumpled hair, your hastily buttoned shirt, and that lingering, unmistakable glow of… well, more than friendship.

“Sorry, Bruce,” you start, trying to sound casual as you lean over a workbench, flipping through some notes. “I, uh… I was doing things.”

Before you can stop him, Tony slides right up beside you, throwing in his signature smirk. “I am things.”

There’s a moment of silence before Bruce’s mouth falls open, the sheer shock plastered on his face.

“Oh,” Bruce manages, blinking like he’s trying to process what he’s just heard. “Oh, wow. Well, that’s… not the explanation I was expecting.”

Tony wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Surprised, Banner? Even geniuses have hearts, you know.”

Bruce shakes his head, but he’s grinning now, a mixture of amusement and something almost like pride. “I think the word you’re looking for, Tony, is priorities.”

You and Tony exchange a look, trying not to burst into laughter.

“So,” Bruce says, raising an eyebrow as he folds his arms, “am I supposed to welcome you to the lab as a couple now? Is that what’s happening?”

Tony glances at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, Bruce,” he says, voice filled with more warmth than usual. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”

Bruce groans but nods, resigned to the fact that the lab—and maybe all of Stark Tower—will never be the same. “Great. Just… try not to be late again tomorrow. Some of us still take the work schedule seriously.”

I love rom-com style, makes me so happy to write it <3 If you liked the story don't forget to leave a like and a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more!

[amazingmsme]

Special Delivery

AN: still catching up on tickletober & I just had to start with our favorite fish boy! Inspired by some headcanons I got a while ago with Hermes & Poseidon, & after 600 strike I think we all need this. Without further ado, here’s day 29’s fic!

Poseidon was dosing off on his throne when a familiar agitating voice startled him awake.

"Knock knock darling, I'm coming in," Hermes said, waltzing through the cave entrance to his lair like he owned the place. Poseidon leveled him with a glare.

"To what do I owe the displeasure?" he asked, propping his chin in his hands as he slumped forward. Hermes scoffed, taking a step back.

"Well excuse you, but I'm just doing my job!" he huffed as he dug through his satchel. "Special delivery," he held out a wax sealed envelope, yanking it back each time Poseidon tried to snatch it.

Hermes reeled back and tutted, shaking his head. "What's the magic word?"

Poseidon growled and snatched his wrist, yanking the paper from his hand. He yelped as he squeezed his wrist, trying to twist free to relieve the pressure.

"Okay ow, ow!" he complained, rubbing the soreness away.

"Oh shut up, I barely touched you. What is this, anyway?" Poseidon asked as he turned the black envelope over in his hands. It bore a crimson seal with three howling wolf heads. Great.

"A formal invitation down below. No rush, just whenever you get the chance to stop by," Hermes explained, sitting on the throne and making himself comfortable by throwing a leg over the arm of the chair. Poseidon sneered down at him.

"If my brother wants to speak to me, he can come up here himself. I'm not going back to that shit hole, I've got an ocean to run," he brushed him off.

"See, he knew you'd say that," Hermes mused. Poseidon rolled his eyes, yanking him up from his throne. Hermes giggled and held his hands up in surrender. "But he's completely swamped at the moment! Turns out sorting over 500 new souls is rather time consuming."

Poseidon couldn't help but smirk when hearing his brother's plight.

"I thought he'd appreciate the gift. He's always looking to expand his kingdom," he said thoughtfully, leaning back in the stone chair.

"Pft, yeah, good one," Hermes chuckled, nudging him in the ribs playfully. He didn't expect Poseidon to jerk away so violently, going completely stiff as he leveled him with a cold glare.

"Don't fucking touch me," he threatened through clenched teeth. Hermes gasped, a hand flying up to cover his delighted grin.

"What's this? Don't tell me the great, fearsome Poseidon is a little bit ti-"

"Don't you have more mail to deliver?" he cut him off, his tone harsh. Well, harsher.

"I think that is the rudest thing you've ever said to me," Hermes dramatically proclaimed, smirking when he Poseidon rolled his eyes. He could've sworn his lips twitched upwards, if only for a moment.

"It's not," he said matter of factly, leaning back in the throne. "Trust me."

"Do you just pride yourself in being an asshole?" he asked, his amusement only growing.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. Hermes tossed his head back with a shrill laugh. Poseidon winced away at the sound.

"You'll never be my favorite uncle with that kind of attitude," he taunted. Poseidon rolled his eyes.

"Yeah right, like Hades is so much better," he scoffed, but when Hermes didn't answer, he looked him up and down in shock. "Seriously? Ugh, whatever. I always knew you had bad tahahaste! I said dohohon't touch me!" he growled, reaching down where he felt Hermes scribbling his side. Only, there was nothing to grab.

"Whahahat the-"

"What's the problem?" he asked smugly, cocking his head. "I'm not touching you, am I?"

Poseidon didn't know what exactly he was doing, but he knew he was doing something. "Y-you lihittle shihihit! Stohop it right nohohow or I'll kihihill you!" he threatened. Hermes only laughed at him.

"Will you?" he taunted, flicking his wrist to shove Poseidon against the back of his throne. His arms were held down against the armrests, and he couldn't bring himself to stand no matter how hard he tried. "How exactly do you plan on going about it?" His casual tone was infuriating.

"You dohohon't wanna knohow," he choked through deep chuckles.

"Oh, so you're bluffing! Good to know!"

"I am nohohot! Lehet me gohoho now!" he demanded, but he sounded significantly less scary than he intended. The most he could do was arch his back and squirm.

"Thanks, but I'll pass. This is the most fun we've ever had together! Wouldn't you agree?" Hermes taunted, cocking his head to the side. He snapped his fingers, and it felt as though the sensations doubled. Poseidon yelled in frustration, tugging on the invisible bonds keeping him in place.

"Nohoho!" he snapped, muscles straining as he fought against the magic holding him there. If only he knew what exactly Hermes was doing, he could counter it. But that proved hard to do with the swirling, tingling sensation spreading over his skin.

"Pity. And here I thought we were finally bonding," he mused aloud, shaking his head solemnly. Then he added his hands, digging into his ribs.

Poseidon barked out a hearty laugh, trying to curl in on himself. "You wish! Noho wait!" He was lost to hysterics when Hermes began walking his fingers up his ribs.

"Still as stubborn as ever, huh? Don't worry, I can help with that!" Hermes chirped, happily squeezing down his sides.

"No! Dohohon't you dahahare!" he tried to sound intimidating, but wasn't very successful when every other word is filled with giggles.

"Oh, I dare," Hermes practically purred, skittering his fingers at a maddening pace. Poseidon grit his teeth together, determined to stop the free flowing mirth from escaping.

"You bahahastard! Lehet me go rihihight nohohohow!" " he demanded, muscles straining against the magic holding him still.

"Mmmm, I'd rather not. I'm pretty sure you'll kill me if I do that," Hermes pointed out with a giggle of his own. With another snap of his fingers, the tickling all but doubled, and Poseidon let out a desperate scream of laughter.

"I WIHIHILL IF YOU DOHOHON'T!" he held firm in his threats, even as he spiraled deeper into hysterics.

"Kill me if I do, kill me if I don't, there's no winning with you, is there?" he cried dramatically, tracing around his gills until he was a snorting, wheezing mess.

Poseidon couldn't bring himself to answer the probably rhetorical question, focusing all his efforts on breaking free from whatever spell or magic Hermes had placed on him.

Control slowly came back to his body as he twitched and squirmed, and if Hermes wasn't so distracted by his little power trip, he might have noticed the warning signs before it was too late.

He was scratching behind his ear fins and cooing about just how endearing he was like this when a hand suddenly yanked him back by the hair, throwing him to the side. Hermes yelped in shock and fear as he hit the ground, quickly standing up before Poseidon could do it again.

"Look, I'm sorry, but it was all in good fun, yeah? I promise, your secret's safe with me," he assured, trying to keep his nerves under wraps. Poseidon shot him a cold glare as he stood up from his throne.

"Like hell it is, you fuckin' blabber mouth."

"Okay, ouch! I'm not that bad!" he whined, shrieking when Poseidon took a step closer. He flew a little higher, just to stay out of reach. "Okay, maybe I got a little carried away, but I couldn't help myself! You know I'm a man of opportunity! I'm sure you would've done the same if you were me," he tried to justify.

Poseidon seemed to consider it for a moment before a sly smirk stretched across his face. Hermes felt his stomach sink as he realized the only exit was blocked.

"For once, I think you're right."

Oh he was so fucked. But it was worth it.

[writingforstraykids]

Letters Of Love - Jeongin🖤

Pairing: Jeongin x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 1026

Summary: Next on your list is Jeongin, remembering a day where the younger came home devastated after a mistake on stage.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst

A/N: Hii, I'm so sorry, life kept me busy and I had no chance finishing this little post. I hope to be back on track with the four remaining pairings and an eventual bonus chapter of how the boys react if you're interested in that🤭🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you scroll through your photo library, searching for the right image of Jeongin. When you find it, a wave of tenderness washes over you. The picture is from a few nights ago—one of those nights that left your heart aching for him and full of pride all at once. He’s sitting on the floor of the dressing room, his hair tousled and slightly damp with sweat, his makeup smudged around his eyes, staring down at the floor with his lips pressed tightly together. You’re beside him, one arm around his shoulders, your other hand resting gently on top of his. In the photo, his expression is one of frustration and self-doubt, brows furrowed, eyes downcast. But even in the midst of his struggle, there’s something undeniably beautiful about him—something strong and resilient.

You remember that night vividly. Jeongin had messed up a part of the choreography on stage. It was a minor mistake, something no one else probably noticed, but to him, it was huge. You’d seen it the moment he came off stage—the way his shoulders slumped, his gaze averted as if he didn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes. He’d forced a smile for the fans, held himself together until the lights went down, and then quietly slipped away to the dressing room, shoulders tense with self-reproach.

You’d followed him, heart aching, knowing how hard he can be on himself. He’d been sitting on the floor, looking so small and lost, shoulders trembling slightly as he tried to hold back his frustration. When you sat down beside him, he didn’t say a word—didn’t even look up. But you knew what he was feeling—the disappointment, the anger directed inward, the overwhelming need to be perfect.

“Hey, Innie love,” you’d whispered softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He’d flinched slightly, then let out a long, shuddering breath, still not looking at you.

“I messed up,” he murmured, voice strained, like the words were clawing at his throat. “Everyone else was perfect, and I… I ruined it.”

Your heart had tightened at the raw pain in his voice. “No, you didn’t,” you’d said gently. “Jeongin, it was just one tiny mistake. No one even noticed.”

But he’d just shaken his head, fists clenched on his knees. “I noticed. It’s my job to get it right, and I couldn’t. I’m supposed to be better than this.”

You’d stayed quiet, letting him speak, letting him vent. Then, without another word, you’d wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. He’d resisted at first, his whole body stiff and tense, but then the dam broke. He’d sagged against you, his face buried in your shoulder, his hands clutching desperately at your shirt as if holding on for dear life. His breathing was harsh and uneven, each exhale filled with a mix of anger and helplessness. All you could do was hold him, murmuring soft, comforting words, rubbing his back gently until the storm inside him started to calm.

“It’s okay, Innie. It’s okay to mess up sometimes. It doesn’t change how amazing you are. Not even a little.”

For a long time, you stayed like that, just holding him, feeling his body gradually relax against yours. He didn’t say anything, but you could sense the shift—the way the tension slowly drained out of him, replaced by a heavy, weary kind of acceptance.

Eventually, he’d pulled back, his eyes red but his expression softer, more resigned. “Thank you,” he’d whispered, voice still rough around the edges but steadier now. “I’m sorry I—”

“Don’t apologize,” you’d cut in gently, shaking your head. “You don’t have to be perfect, Jeongin. You just have to be you. That’s more than enough.”

You attach the picture to a new message, feeling the emotions from that night all over again. Fingers trembling slightly, you begin typing, knowing exactly what you want to say to the boy who tries so hard to be perfect, when all you want is for him to see just how perfectly imperfect he already is.

Message to Jeongin:

Hey Innie love,

I know this picture isn’t from your best moment, but I wanted to send it to you anyway because I think it’s a reminder of something important. That night, you were so frustrated with yourself, and I know how much that tiny mistake hurt you. But to me, this photo doesn’t show someone who messed up. It shows someone who’s strong enough to keep going, even when things don’t go perfectly. It shows someone who cares deeply about what he does, who wants to give his best every single time.

But you know what, Innie? It’s okay to stumble sometimes. It’s okay to have moments when things don’t go the way you planned. That’s what makes you human, and that’s what makes me love you even more. Because you always get back up, always push forward, always try to be better. But please remember—being perfect isn’t what makes you special. It’s your heart, your determination, your courage to show your vulnerable side.

I’m so proud of you, not just for your talent, but for your resilience. So, even on the days when you feel like you’ve let yourself down, I want you to know that I’ll always see the amazing person you are. No mistakes could ever change that.

Happy anniversary, Innie love. Here’s to more moments, both perfect and imperfect, and to loving every single one of them because they’re all a part of you.

Love you so much,

Your biggest fan and supporter.

You send the message, your heart aching with tenderness. You can already picture his reaction—how he’ll probably read it in silence, his eyes growing soft and misty. He might not say much in reply, might just send a quiet, heartfelt “thank you.” But you know it’ll mean everything to him, because Jeongin isn’t someone who needs grand gestures. He just needs to know that he’s enough, just as he is.

And that’s what you’ll keep reminding him, every single chance you get. Because he’s your Innie love—the one who shines brightest, even when he thinks his light is fading.

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin

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[rachxhjs]

Claiming you.

✧ A story where Soobin feels unwanted by his boyfriend because he had been away for a while. As soon as Yeonjun hears about this he's determined to change his lover's mindset.

♡

Requested by, anon ♡

Yeonjun x Soobin

✧ Tags;

Breeding kink, size kink, praise kink, edge play, bottom!soobin, top!yeonjun, smut, fluff

✧

"Honey, I told you it was just a trip.. nothing more than just a few days being away from each other. Just because I was gone it doesn't mean I don't want you anymore."

Soobin exhaled as he wrapped his arms around his cold legs, cheek mashed against his knee. It had been about two weeks since he had seen his boyfriend, and it affected him more than he thought it would.

Yeonjun's boss had told him that he, and a few other co-workers had to go to Las Vegas to settle a deal with a company that had reached out to them. And at first Soobin was over the moon, he was so proud of his boyfriend that he got to participate in such a big event, that the boss chose him as one of the best workers to handle such a job. But as the days passed it had only become worse and worse for him. It wasn't just that Yeonjun wasn't next to him. It was also because Yeonjun could barely go on his phone, and whenever he could Soobin would be asleep because of the time difference. It was horrible, and it felt like he didn't get to have a proper conversation with his lover in months.

"Baby.." Yeonjun called out again once his boyfriend didn't reply, sitting down next to him on their silk covered bed, bringing his hand up to caress his lover's cheek. "I'm sorry, yes? I didn't know it would be so.. how do I say this? So.. abstract? I expected to text you every day, to call you. But that didn't happen and I apologise.. you must have been lonely."

Soobin inhaled as he simply hugged his legs closer to his body, looking to the side with tear filled eyes, feeling more emotional than ever. Yeonjun finally returned from his trip, and he should've been happy. But he wasn't, it was the opposite, and he hated that.

"You don't want me anymore.."

"What?"

A moment of silence filled the room as Yeonjun stopped in his tracks, the hand that was brushing over his boyfriend's face froze in the air, hesitantly, and slowly pulling away.

"Soobin, don't say that." The older instantly scolded, furrowing his brows. "It was just a trip, and the time stamps were flipped around. There wasn't much I could do, I was busy. But hey.. maybe I'll get a higher position. And I'm here now, you should be happy."

Meanwhile Soobin just sniffed softly, covering his eyes to prevent himself from embarrassing himself in front of the shorter, it was embarrassing. Yeonjun was right, he should've been happy. But those two weeks of not hearing Yeonjun's voice made him feel a dark pitch in his stomach and heart. He was so used to being held to sleep every night that it felt rather damaging when it wasn't like that. He was so used to it. "I know.. but.. you haven't even touched me or shown any sign of you missing me when you came back.. hurts. I missed you, but you didn't miss me."

"Is that what this is about?"

Yeonjun inhaled as he carefully held Soobin's hand, kissing the corner of his lips before he laid the taller down, thinking. "Sweetheart. Of course I missed you, you're my everything. Looked at your pictures every night.. and I do need you, you're all I can think about." The male carefully hovered on top of his boyfriend as he gave him a warm, reassuring smile. Leaning in to kiss away the cold, sticky tears from Soobin's face, humming lowly. "You want to know how much I missed you?"

"Mhm.." Soobin shivered slightly when his lover kissed his delicate skin, hips already starting to buck up. Maybe this was just what he needed, an orgasm to forget about everything, to see how badly Yeonjun wanted him. "I want you to show me.. how badly you want me.. 'need it." He whispered, squirming under his boyfriend before Yeonjun pinned him down by his hips, nodding. "Okay baby.. I'm going to need you to relax for me then, hm? Let me do all the work.."

And before Soobin knew it, Yeonjun was stripping off all his clothes, leaving him completely naked and tracing down each curve of his body carefully, eyes full of love. "There we go.. my poor baby. You missed this, didn't you? I bet you jerked off whispering my name.. god. If only I could've seen you like that.." Yeonjun inhaled sharply as he thought about his lover pumping his own member needily, mouth agape while his tiny teeth poked out. It was one of his favourite things about Soobin, the way he resembled a bunny. And honestly, it wasn't just his features that reminded him of a bunny, but also the way he bounced on dick whenever he was needy, he always looked so cute when in heat.

"Yes.." Soobin's eyes squinted as his pupils followed each movement Yeonjun made, breathing rather loudly. He was getting so hot that his skin started to radiate heat like a furnace, cheeks red. "You took.. so long.. I was so alone, had to take care of myself.."

"Poor bunny." Yeonjun grinned a bit as he started to take off his own clothes in a slow manner, wanting to tease the other in each way possible. "But you did so good.. you're such a good boy for me. Did you think of me baby? Were you good?"

"Yes.." Soobin panted out again, mouth agape as his hips jerked up in need, wanting to get any sort of friction. But he knew that if he touched himself Yeonjun would scold him. Plus, the older had promised to take care of him, and he trusted him. "Watched old videos of us.. videos you sent me.. listened to your audios, your grunts. Imagined you were there with me.."

"Go on.. you're doing so good.. Keep talking." Yeonjun praised lowly, listening to his boyfriend while he tossed away his clothes. And then, he leaned down to press a dozen of kisses around his lover's thighs, humming softly against his soft skin and inhaling his boyfriend's scent, eyes closed. "Used a dildo.. bounced on it and listened to your voice, closed my eyes.. it felt so real. I needed you.. so bad.."

"I know.." The older inhaled sharply as he pulled away, sitting down on the floor of the end of their shared bed before he pulled his lover towards him by his legs, nose nuzzling into his balls. "But I'm here now.. and you did so.. so good. I'm so proud of you.. the best boy, hm?"

Soobin shivered when he felt Yeonjun's mouth being so close to his crotch, nodding and letting out a quiet cry as his hips jerked into him, trying to force himself inside of the male's mouth. But Yeonjun stopped him, wrapping his arms around the taller's legs. "Do you need me to tie you up? I thought you'd be good, baby. You don't want to be praised?"

"M' sorry.. I'll be good.." Soobin instantly stayed still as Yeonjun continued to kiss his thighs, member twitching in the air. "But you're teasing me.. I've been wanting this for a while and you're.. teasing me.." He protested, chest rising up and down as his doe eyes stared up at the ceiling, aching for more.

"I know, baby. But I want to savour this.. to enjoy this moment. Let me have this, hm? Won't you please hyung?" Yeonjun whispered, watching the way his boyfriend started to whine into his pillow, salivating against the silky white material. "Just like that love.. just stay still and look pretty for me, hm? Doing so good."

Soobin whimpered softly as he squirmed his hips slightly, starting to gasp into the sheets before he suddenly felt a cold sensation against his entrance, making him whine louder. Yeonjun had started to lubricate his entrance carefully, spurting the cold gel against his hole before he rubbed it in with his thumb, blowing softly as well to make the warm area tingle. "The better you are for me the quicker you'll get your release." The older promised, nuzzling into his thigh as he slowly pressed one finger inside of the younger's walls, rubbing and feeling against his prostate.

And soon enough, Soobin started to moan more loudly, back arching towards the ceiling as his legs started to shake, mouth agape. "Need it.. need it.. more.." He whimpered, walls clamping around Yeonjun's finger out of desperation. And soon enough, he felt another finger enter him, making him see stars.

"Shh.. be good and you'll get more. I've told you before.." Yeonjun bit his bottom lip as he started to pump his middle, and index finger into the younger, watching his chest rise up and down as he did his best hitting and rubbing into his boyfriend's gummy spots, eyebrow furrowed in focus. "There you go.."

Soobin's hands gripped onto the warm sheets under him as his mouth stayed open, eyes barely staying open as he finally felt what he had been aching for for days. He knew what Yeonjun said was true, so he did his best to be as good as possible, not moving too much and simply letting the male take care of him so he could have more, whimpering out of satisfaction. And before he knew it, a third finger entered his body, making his cock leak even more precum, dripping down to his abdomen.

"That's my good boy.. doing so good. I'm so proud of you.." Yeonjun whispered against Soobin's thigh, sucking some purple spots onto the skin as he slammed his palm against Soobin's ass, fingers pounding in and out of his walls. But as soon as he heard his boyfriend's voice getting higher and his walls tugging onto him harder he pulled away, watching how Soobin's entrance instantly gaped around nothing, length twitching needily.

When Soobin felt the sudden stop of friction he let out a soft cry, propping himself up onto his forearms so he could look down at his boyfriend, cheeks strained in tears of pleasure. "Wha.. where.. Yeonjun?" The male panted loudly as his member continued to throb, needing to release. But he couldn't, there wasn't any friction that would make him cum. "Shh.." Yeonjun smiled as he climbed on top of his boyfriend, sushing him warmly and rubbing his cock against his entrance, humming at the warm sensation. "So needy.."

"Cock.." Soobin instantly gasped, looking up at his boyfriend when the older pressed their foreheads together, feeling his stomach turn multiple times. There was something about the way Yeonjun stared at him that made him feel small and weak, but in the best way possible. It almost seemed like the older was seeing right through him, taking in his soul with his fierce gaze. But Soobin was soon distracted when he felt Yeonjun's hips harshly slam against him once, crying out loudly while the older let out a loud moan, keeping his boyfriend pressed against him.

"Can't.. I can't- it's too.. big.." Soobin whimpered, letting out quiet whines as Yeonjun carefully rolled himself against the male, wanting to get as deep as possible. "You can.. you've been good this entire time. Why not now? Hm? Look at that.." Yeonjun bit his bottom lip as he looked down at their bodies colliding, letting out a hiss when he noticed the obvious bulge in Soobin's stomach, eyebrows furrowed. "Fuck, baby.."

Soobin winced softly when he felt Yeonjun rub over the bulge, squirming his hips slightly as his mouth stayed agape, gasping needily. "I can't.." He repeated again. But Yeonjun simply pressed his hand against Soobin's mouth, sushing him once more. "You can.. you're taking it so well, love. Be good for me.." Yeonjun inhaled sharply as he pulled his member out, eyes flickering up at his boyfriend every now and then to check on his state before he laid his cock flat against the younger's stomach, watching how his tip reached all the way to his belly button. "It's just like that on the inside as well.. God. That's so fucking hot.."

Soobin stared down at the way Yeonjun compared his size to his stomach as he panted quietly, eager to feel his boyfriend again. "You're so tiny compared to my cock.. can you imagine? Me going in and out of you like this.. so deep. I'm filling you up so good." The older whispered lowly, grabbing his length again before he pressed it against his boyfriend once more. And then, he pulled Soobin towards him by his hips, manhandling him onto his dick. And slowly, he moved the male back and forth, watching how his stomach bulged each time, showing clearly how well he was fucking into the younger.

"Yeonjun-" Soobin cried out as he was moved onto his shaft, arms trembling before his back fell onto the mattress, arms laying flat. "Big.."

"I know.. you're doing so good.. look.. you're taking me so well." The older praised, letting out grunt as he kept Soobin's hips up, moving his boyfriend like a flesh light before he finally let his butt sink down on the mattress, focused. "I'm going to breed you.. going to give you all my babies.." Yeonjun growled as Soobin simply whined, feeling his stomach flutter. And soon enough, Yeonjun started to thrust his hips back and forth, watching how his boyfriend's delicate body moved up and down on the sheets. "Fucking shit.. you'll take them so well.. would be such a pretty daddy.."

Soobin let out a whimper whenever he felt Yeonjun hit the best spots inside of him, voice high and needy as he was fucked into like a toy, mouth open. Due to his boyfriend's big size he felt like he was filled to the brim, as if a thick brick was moving in and out of his body and leaving no room for air. But he loved it, he loved how good Yeonjun made him feel and how he reassured him so much. Sex with him was the best. "I'm going to cum.." The taller whined out, stomach continuing to bulge as Yeonjun rocked his hips back and forth, fingers piercing into his lover's skin. Though he didn't reply, being too focused on listening to Soobin's voice, wanting to hear his orgasm near. And once the male was on the verge of finishing, Yeonjun pulled out again, panting.

Just like before, Soobin let out a cry as his member continued to throb, leaking even more precum while his boyfriend flipped him onto his side, pressing his legs together. "Good boy.. almost. Doing so well, you'll feel so good.." The older whispered, spanking his ass hard once before he pushed himself into his entrance once more, grunting.

Soobin looked down at his member as it laid rock hard against his stomach, gazing down at the way he kept bulging and how he constantly leaked precum, moaning against the sheets loudly. "Good.. almost. Do you want me to breed you, hm? I'll give you.. everything. Fuck. You'll take it so well.. going to make sure you won't miss a drop.." The older murmured, biting his bottom lip as he pounded himself against Soobin's ass, balls slapping against his skin, hard, making the impact even more intense. And before he knew it, Yeonjun was cumming, hard. Pressing himself against his boyfriend as aggressively as possible so he could get as deep as he could, cumming in harsh, long and aggressive spurts. "Fuck-" Yeonjun growled, letting out a whine as well. "All of it.. take all of it.. you'll be.. having my babies.." The older whimpered, digging himself into Soobin's neck where he inhaled his scent and bit onto the skin, moaning as well.

And just like Yeonjun, Soobin came as well. Letting out cries of pleasure as he stained the sheets in thick strokes of white. It was much more than he thought it would be, but that was probably because he held it in for so long. And just like always, Yeonjun was right. Everything felt so much better like this.

After a few minutes of calming down Yeonjun wiped his forehead, taking his member and pulling it out carefully before he tilted Soobin's hips up so no cum would leave him, panting. "Stay like that.." he ordered in a tired, raspy tone. Grabbing one of Soobin's butt plugs and inserting it carefully, grinning at the sight. "Perfect.. you've got it all.. didn't miss a drop. Good boy.. you did so good today.." Soobin simply panted as his boyfriend laid down next to him, pulling him to his chest so he could listen to his heartbeat, gently stroking his hair.

"I'm so proud of you.. did so good, as always. Don't say that I don't want you ever again, hm? I love you so much.." Yeonjun whispered, kissing his lips.

Soobin breathed calmly against his boyfriend's chest as he smiled a bit to his words, humming. "I love you more.. thank you. I needed that.. didn't expect to be so grumpy.." He told honestly, rubbing his eyes a bit before he nuzzled more into the older's warm skin, starting to calm down his breathing. Meanwhile Yeonjun just hummed softly, playing with his hair, eyes full of love. He wished that Soobin would never feel like that again, because he did truly love him. Maybe he just didn't show it in the right ways. Or maybe his boyfriend was just sexually frustrated. But honestly, the cause of it wasn't too important to him at the moment. Right now he was focused on showing Soobin how much he truly did mean to him, rubbing over his waist. "And that's okay.. we've solved it now, hm? And I'm on break.. I'll be all yours for two weeks. Next time don't jump to conclusions yes? Just tell me how you feel and we'll fix it.. my everything."

Soobin hummed quietly as he breathed slowly, closing his eyes. He felt so comforted whenever he was with his boyfriend. And after such an intense orgasm he got really tired. So it was understandable that he fell asleep against Yeonjun's chest within a minute of them talking. It was actually cute, Yeonjun loved it. He loved how he was such a safe place for his lover. And hopefully, he could be that for the rest of Soobin's life.

♡

To, anon

I hope you enjoyed it and that it fit your expectations. And thank you so much for being my first submission, I enjoyed making this 😚

To, readers

Thank you so much for reading, and as a reminder my submissions are open if you'd like one of these as well. Have a great day, stay hydrated and remember that you're loved.

Thank you!

[beloveds-embrace]

DUKEDOM!141 AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙏🙏🙏🙏 (/nf please and thank you :])

Original post

Enjoy!! :D

Something all of them like to do is doll you up, and it becomes almost a private little routine between you and them.

John, as your husband (can you tell I love referring to him like this?), steadily takes control of deciding what you wear for the day even long before your request. It’s something that just… happens. He comes into your bedroom early in the mornings, and your maids scatter away to leave you both be with little giggles, excited at the prospect of you two finally getting ‘close’.

John doesn’t care for them. He greets you with a soft good morning (a few weeks later, he’d greet you the same but would gently caress your face with the back of his hand, the touch so gentle despite his roughened skin. It makes you into a blushing mess, though you tell yourself it’s just so that the peeking maids won’t suspect anything) and then goes straight to your closet, sweeping through the rows and rows of delicate, soft dresses with a discerning eye to select what attire you’ll wear for the day.

Of course, he does ask you what you feel like wearing, how you feel today in general, where you plan on going or meeting- everything to ensure the dress he’ll choose for you would be perfect. John doesn’t wait to see you in the dress, though.

He knows he’ll be seeing you all adorned and dressed up later, when you come down to dine with him. He can compliment you and pat himself on the back, then.

If he makes sure to match his cufflinks with the colors you are wearing, it will simply make whoever notice it think you two are such a lovely couple. And he still hopes that your maids will accidentally not tighten or cover up your hemline just so he can fix it himself for you.

John aside, Kyle takes care of your hair and jewelry. He makes you sit on the vanity, still alone and with none of your maids around, and then he begins the tender ritual of brushing your hair (if it’s not too curly for daily brushings). His hands, warm and careful and gentle, would then take care of oiling each strand. No oils or butters have been spared in the efforts of tending to you, and Kyle himself often turns the routine into a simple, but so effective, head massage session for you.

(Later, Kyle wonders what he needs to say and do to take over the job of the maids who help you bathe. You are always complimenting how good his hands feel on your hair, and he can show you how much better he is at using them for your body.)

Johnny eventually begins doing your makeup, on certain occasions. Once the truth comes out, the two of you are closer, and on one night, he tells you about his big family, his sisters and how they’d make him and his brothers help them get ready for events and parties.

It’s a simple question born out of your curiosity- what’s the makeup like where you were born, Johnny?- that has him in your bedroom often now, the other chefs taking care of the kitchen while his hands, clean and gentle, dab creams and whatnot on your face so delicately- like you are one of the cupacakes he decorates for your tea time.

He wants to kiss you so badly. You look so pretty like this, eyes closed and expression peaceful, patient and so trustful of his ministrations. He really, really wants to kiss you and see if the lipstick he’d applied on your pretty lips tastes as sweet as it smells.

Simon, though, is the one who slowly begins adding more and more to your dresses. John already supplies you with so much, but Simon is the one largely in charge of the silk and fabric importation and he knows well what styles will be popular next season, what styles will looks better on you and which colors suit you best. It’s not just dresses, but also matching fabrics and ribbons to go in your hair for when Kyle or your maids style, and for your pretty neck during more casual tea parties.

Not occasionally seeing you in the dresses he sends doesn’t bother him; you will be spoiling the others with the sight, and he can listen to them thank him in several ways afterwards and rest with the thought of you all dolled up, happy and thriving with them.

[purplemagics-blog]

ART THE CLOWN X FEM READER!!

“Baby your not good for me, your not good for me, but baby I want you I want you!”

“Scary? My god you’re divine!!”

WARNING: reader gets kidnapping, attempted suicidal, weapons, please tell me if I missed anything!

Lmao I wrote this laying in bed, listening to diet Mountain Dew and watching 100 days in Minecraft

I put like 2 will wood references in this and there both really close together and if you find them both put it in the comments and what song they are them and you can choose what the theme for the next fanfic! (I literally ran out of ideas so this)

Wow… this is a lot…

You had just put the little pale girl down to sleep and now you and Art were cuddling up on the couch. Well how did you get here? Welllll it’s a long story!

A couple years back you were really close to ending it. You didn’t have family or friends, your band was breaking up and that was your only job you had for income! There you were standing on the edge of a bridge your old looking dress with a flower print on it blowing in the wind, your white cardigan long forgotten on the ground and your black shoes with black bows? They were also forgotten on the ground. As you about to jump you felt something grabbed the back of your legs and forced you backwards! Fell into someone’s arms… a clown? Maybe it was a fan? Your band did have a clown theme to it. But next thing you know the clown with a creepy smile forced a white cloth over your mouth and he most definitely put something on it as you passed out. You woke up in some sort of strange dark place. You where inside of a small cage (like a dog cage) and as you looked around you saw a little creepy pale girl trying to get a tv to work and as you looked up you saw the same clown guy sitting at a desk making a wimp with a knife tied to the end!

••••••••••••••••✰☼✟♡✟☼✰••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••☆☆☆••••••••••••••••••••

Ok so he did try and kill you but every time the little pale girl stoped him! She real liked you and in some short of way she was a like a child to you and after a while Art started to get closer to you like letting you out the cage, sharing “food” with you, and even letting you go outside ones and a while. And well about a year later you just assumed you both were dating at least that’s how you took it when the little pale girl was making drawings with crans with you, Art and her as a… family..? I mean Art gave you gifts, kissed you, you helped him kill people ones and a while, just you guys just acted like a crazy couple!

You took Art and the little pale girl into your house after a while (the police were going to fine you guys so y’all needed to move lmao)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

So in the president, you had just put the little pale girl to bed and Art and you were cuddled up on the couch watching a scary movie. You were laying down and Art was laying on you with his face buried in your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. These days he was the biggest simp for you. You both looked so cute together to be fair! Your past left behind and the future with Art is ahead! As you both are cuddling the movie has a jump scare and you finch and Art? He jumps silently laughs and mocks your face! WHAT A DICK! You powdered and he just didn’t care what an ass! As the end of the movie happens the title pops up “love me normally! Why apologize for being blue and cold?” And when the actors and stuff. Art stands up and picks you up bride style and carries you to bed. He plops you on the bed and when he walks over to the other side of the bed and he lays down and pulls you close. You both cuddle close and he kisses your forehead before you both drift off to sleep.

ANYWAYS HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!