#mj fluff

[taegimood]

— my girl (c.yj) ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, non-idol au, smut, fluff rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 6.1k warnings: unprotected sex, pwp (6k but most of it is smut tbh lol), softdom!yeonjun, inexperienced!reader, dry humping, oral + fingering (f receiving), squirting, petnames (baby, princess, doll, good girl, pretty girl), daddy kink (yeonjun refers to himself as daddy), spanking, creampie, multiple orgasms, light choking but not (he doesn’t squeeze), one instance of spitting, it’s established that jun is older than reader so OPPA IS USED AS AN HONORIFIC and idc if people hate it lol as a korean speaker i’m tired of westernizing shit

a/n - pls picture temptation era hair yeonjun 😵‍💫 this is inspired by a dream i had.. dreamt every part in his room up until the actual penetration 😮‍💨 cockblocked by my own brain

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yeonjun’s sheets are soft as you sit observing his bedroom, taking note of all the little details that his strong personality shines through, the first time you’ve seen the other side of his door — though how you even got to this point in the first place is still something you’re going over and over in your head as you wait for him to come back.

his soft smile is met with your nervous one as he enters the room with two water bottles in hand, shutting the door quietly behind him — your eyes follow his lithe fingers as he turns the lock — and you watch as he places the drinks on his nightstand before turning to you.

the air suddenly feels much warmer when he sits down on the bed beside you, so close that you’re almost touching, and that fond look on his face only serves to heighten your nerves as you remember that he knows what he’s doing, and you don’t.

well… sort of.

everything happened only a few hours before.

your best friend kai had invited you to hang out with him and his roommates, a chaotic group of guys who you’ve grown to call your friends as well; even yeonjun, who you may or may not have developed the hugest crush on ever from the minute that you’d first met him.

it’d been a few months of back-and-forth, sometimes convinced that it must be mutual and other times doubting your judgement completely — has he always been this flirty, or is it your imagination when his eyes linger just a little too long? — and it was on this fateful day at their apartment when it all fell apart.

(or should you say, all came together).

everyone knows to watch out once beomgyu’s got a couple of drinks in him, so it was only a matter of time before your unlucky day came when he’d decide that you would be his glorious first victim of the afternoon; and that was exactly where you found yourself as he took it upon himself to announce to everyone in the room that you and yeonjun needed to admit you wanna fuck each other already, or else he’d “just have to do something about it himself” (whatever that meant).

to say you wanted to crawl into a ditch and die would be the biggest understatement of the century.

your wide eyes were pinned to the floor as the room erupted into multiple reactions; soobin groaning with a smack upside beomgyu’s head as he scolded the younger not to say stuff like that, taehyun’s “damn,” as he knocked back his beer to cover a laugh, kai burying his head into his hands with a shriek — he swore he didn’t mean to spill your secret to beomgyu a few weeks ago, it just slipped out — and of course, the culprit in the center laughing his ass off unphased.

the only one who had yet to say anything was…

you steeled yourself and glanced up, meeting yeonjun’s eyes that were already watching you from across the living room.

your own widened marginally.

he didn’t look disgusted. he didn’t look put off. in fact, he looked…..

your breath caught. there was a small upturn to his lips, a confirmation, the hint of a smile that solidified as he quirked a brow as if in question. as if he was asking you,

“well? what should we do about it then?”

and everything changed from there.

~

it hadn’t taken long for beomgyu’s quick-moving attention span to be directed elsewhere thanks to some faithful effort on hyuka’s part, the others following suit to spare you from the spotlight — and it was only about an hour later when you found yourself alone in the kitchen for a breather, the sounds of your friend’s quarreling and laughter slightly less eardrum-shattering now from where you stood leaning against the sink.

a few minutes passed before the sound of someone else slipping into the room grabbed your attention.

your peace quickly morphed into apprehension.

“hi,” yeonjun whispered, a small smile on his face that read somewhere between gentle and amused.

his hands were in his pockets as he came to lean casually against the counter opposite you, head tilted slightly to the side as his eyes trailed over your expression, and you cursed your mouth for going dry at the sight of him.

his simple black tank top and sweatpants combo had you fighting to keep your eyes on his face — his face, pretty and framed so nicely by silky black hair that was grown out quite a bit longer than usual these days, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it as your thighs rubbed together subconsciously.

“…hi,” you whispered back.

he breathed out a small laugh.

“i wanted to talk to you, but i didn’t want the others to hear.. figured this was a good opportunity when i saw you get up.”

“r-right..”

why am i so awkward? what the fuck? oh god wait why is he coming closer-

your hands gripped the counter behind you as yeonjun stepped forward. his voice was low, quiet, meant only for you as he stood in front of you with a look on his face that had you melting in more ways than one.

“listen... i know that we’ve never talked about this thing between us. i didn’t wanna scare you off by being too forward, but now that beomgyu ran his mouth about it…”

with a feather-light touch, yeonjun reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“well, i’m not gonna deny what he said, and i’m pretty sure that i’m right when i say.. i think you want me the same way that i want you.”

you felt heat running down your entire body like a zap of electricity.

your fried brain didn’t even have the chance to fully process before you heard beomgyu shout from the living room, “hey, what’s taking so long?!” and the scent of yeonjun’s cologne was like a drug as he leaned in and whispered in your ear,

“if you feel ready to see where this goes.. stay here with me when they go out.”

and just like that he was gone, random assortment of snacks in hand to avoid suspicion as he called back to beomgyu, “i’m coming, just couldn’t decide what to eat!”

and you slumped against the counter with legs like jelly.

~

you received a chorus of groans and boos when you told the guys you were gonna go home instead of joining them elsewhere for dinner and drinks, earning brief suspicion only from taehyun as he eyed you questioningly for a moment — their focus primarily resting on yeonjun’s uncharacteristic opt-out that he’d blamed on a sudden migraine.

you felt ridiculous as you even headed down the elevator with them to the street outside, going out of your way to be believable, rounding the corner towards the subway station until they were well out of sight in the opposite direction before heading back up towards the apartment.

you’d’ve been lying if you said that you didn’t consider leaving yourself; your jittery nerves and quick-beating heart nearly convincing you, until you remembered the look in yeonjun’s eyes and the wetness between your legs returned.

yeonjun, choi yeonjun, one of the most popular and charismatic guys that you know — wants you.

and now here you are on his bed.

when you think about it, in your eyes yeonjun is a lot of things that you’re not; the way he just naturally draws people in, the way he carries himself, always making friends so easily; the fact that he’s genuinely cool, somehow good at everything he does and always looks hot doing it; he’s older than you — not by much, but still — and the number one thing on your mind right now:

he’s experienced.

now you’re no virgin, but your measly 1 past boyfriend is nothing in comparison to the fact that yeonjun’s ability to please a woman is a very well-checked box on his long list of skills (if beomgyu is correct about anything he’s blabbed about, at least. which today so far he seems to be).

and now, as he sits here so close to you with that same look on his face as before, that gentle smile and amused little twinkle in his eyes — well, you know right then that you’re a goner.

“hi,” he whispers, just like he did in the kitchen earlier, and you whisper it back with a shy smile.

this is the first time you’ve ever truly been alone with him.

he looks at you for a few moments, and you wonder if this is what amoebas feel like under a microscope until he places his hand on the bed beside you and rests his weight on it, by default leaning in even closer than before.

“i like you.” he says simply.

in panic mode, you resort to sarcasm - “y-yeah-“ you clear your throat - “um, yeah, i think we established that.”

his laugh sends tingles through you as a real smile not stricken with awkwardness finally blooms on your face, the ice slowly melting for you as you start to remember that right, okay, he’s a friend and not some unreachable deity (for the most part, at least).

“i.. like you too,” you respond sheepishly, and you bite your lip at the underlying shift in his tone as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and says,

“i know.”

the mood has suddenly deepened into something else.

his hand comes up to your cheek, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “is this okay?” and you don’t know when his face got so close to yours but your eyes are already threatening to flutter shut as you hum in response, lidded gaze glued to his full, pretty lips that you want so desperately all over your body.

“words, baby.” his voice is a whisper, breath warm against your lips, his own so close now that you can almost feel them —

“y-yes.”

and just like that, choi yeonjun is kissing you.

whatever you thought a real kiss was supposed to feel like, whatever kisses you had felt with your ex —

none of it compared to this.

you feel his smile when you quietly moan, his lips even softer than you had imagined, moving against yours slowly, deliberately, expertly, the hand that had been on your cheek sliding gently to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss.

his tongue is warm and soft as it traces along your bottom lip, and you don’t care how eager you probably seem as you let it in immediately, trying not to moan again as he slips it past your lips to caress yours; you melt as he sucks lightly on your tongue before giving a teasing, gentle bite to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

you can’t even imagine how dazed you must look — but his knowing smile tells you enough.

you can’t explain it, but in that moment you gain a hunger-fueled confidence. you want to give yeonjun everything.

fuck, you want him bad.

you’re pulling him back to you faster than you can chicken out otherwise, and the pleased noise he makes as you connect your lips again only spurs you on further to do what you’ve been so badly wanting to:

you touch him, hands sliding from his shoulders up to his soft hair, pulling at it gently as his lips travel down your jaw to suckle at the skin of your neck; you moan, freely this time, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back to give him all the access he wants as you wrap an arm around his shoulders and keep him close.

his hand slides around your waist to your lower back as he slowly guides you down to lay against his sheets, your legs instinctively widening for him as he slots his hips between them, and you groan at the bulge now resting comfortably against your clothed core.

it doesn’t take long before he gently rocks his hips forwards.

you whimper, clutching to his tank top as he continues to kiss and suckle along your neck; your legs tighten around his hips and his lips tilt into a smirk against your skin as your body responds to his like it’s what it was made for, and so he does it again, this time continuing into a steady rocking pace.

the hardness of his cock drags deliciously against your center as he rolls his hips into it again and again, slow enough so that you feel everything, but firm enough that it makes your head spin and your thighs twitch with need.

“oppa,” you whisper, pleadingly, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for but you know that you just need more.

“hm?” he hums back, lips still sucking pretty bruises into your neck,

and it’s like he can read your mind as he asks with another smirk against your skin - “want more, baby?”

you nod quickly with a weak, “mhm,” and your heart jumps as his lips move up to your ear.

“tell oppa what you want.”

the husk of his voice sends shivers straight downwards.

he pulls away just enough for you to meet his eyes and you feel like a rabbit hunted down by a fox, but in your case, you never want to escape from his grasp.

“i.. i-i want…”

you can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks, remembering once again how much you haven’t experienced, and you want to tell him exactly where you want him to put his mouth — but instead your eyes avert from his as you mumble in admission,

“i-i’ve never been… well i’ve never been eaten out before. s-so.. um..”

in your peripheral you can see yeonjun’s brows lift to his hairline in disbelief. “what?”

a finger beneath your chin gently draws your gaze back to his and the genuine bewilderment in his eyes is enough to deepen your blush as he asks, “how could that bastard have possibly survived never tasting you?”

your body buzzes with electricity as your eyes widen; there’s a hunger and determination dancing in yeonjun’s stare that you’ve never been looked at with before.

his intensity makes you shiver in anticipation and it’s like you can taste the honey dripping from his words when he says,

“let me make you feel good, baby. let me give you everything that he should’ve.”

your head spins.

you’ve never felt so desired.

the second that you say okay, yeonjun places one last dizzying kiss to your lips before he’s moving down your body, guiding you out of your shirt as he slowly maps out your skin with his lips — you breathe out a sigh at the way his large hands caress you, intentionality in every touch.

eventually he sits up on his knees, pulling back from a kiss to your navel to reach for the hem of your panties. you shiver when his fingers ghost over your hips.

“lift for me,” he instructs softly, and you do, biting your lip as he begins to slowly pull them down, eyes glued to your cunt, and you watch the way his breath hitches in his throat at the strings of wetness that cling to the fabric.

“fuck,” he whispers, practically groans,

“can’t believe no one’s ever tasted such a pretty pussy before… gonna eat you so good, baby..”

you’re going out of your mind with need, his words alone sending another gush of arousal to your heat, your hungry eyes traveling down to trace the imprint of his rock-hard cock in his sweatpants.

teasingly you ghost your foot over it as he slides your panties from your ankles, and his eyes flicker up to yours as you stare back innocently; his gaze narrows and lips quirk up into a lopsided smirk as his warm hands slide up your legs.

“getting brave, now, are we?” he taunts, stopping at your thighs as he wraps his hands around them and spreads your legs open.

slowly he lowers himself between them, all the while keeping his eyes on yours, and your hips jump at the whisper of his breath against your aching cunt when he says,

“better be careful, doll… any game you try to play, i can play it better.”

and when his fingers spread you open and his lips kiss your clit, you already know that he’s ruined you for any other man.

how could you even dream of anyone else when the tip of yeonjun’s velvety tongue slips out to trace teasingly up and down your slit, or when the pad of his finger circles so lightly around your leaking hole that you might even be imagining it?

no, there’s no way you could be imagining this, not as the warmth of his mouth caresses you as he closes his lips around your clit and gently begins to suck, your head tipping back with a shudder as you whine at the feeling.

“eyes on me, princess,” he murmurs against your cunt, and when you manage to bring your gaze back to his, the sight before you is sinful.

his foxlike eyes dark and dangerous and twinkling as he watches you through his lashes, pretty lips forming a smirk that you can only feel and not see as he whispers “good girl,” - before the next thing you know, his tongue is flattening against you as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy, big hands keeping your jerking hips in place as he begins to ravish you, sucking, licking, kissing, groaning shamelessly at the taste of you and sending vibrations straight through your quivering core as you unravel beneath his touch.

“so fucking good,” he moans, sliding a finger inside of you with ease as he begins to pump it steadily in and out, practically making out with your pussy as you whimper, hands instinctively flying to his hair — you almost pull them away when suddenly he adds another digit, the stretch causing your fingers to tighten in his dark strands as your hips instinctively grind forwards against his mouth.

you’re about to apologize when yeonjun moans even deeper than before.

“that’s it, baby,” he grunts, “use my face. want it so bad, don’t you? go ahead and chase it, cum all over daddy’s tongue.”

something unholy snaps inside of you at that.

“f-fuck-” you cry, doing exactly as he said; you can’t help it as you grind your clit down on his warm tongue over and over and over, hands tightening in his hair as his fingers work impossibly faster, and a new sensation takes over you as the dam breaks and you reach your peak;

you don’t realize what’s happening at first as you’re carried through the most mind-blowing orgasm, until you feel the unusual amount of wetness soaking his sheets and hear yeonjun groaning “fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby, that’s it -“ and he’s three fingers deep as you realize you’re squirting.

it’s as though he can read your body like a book the way he can tell when it’s suddenly too much, his pace slowing gradually until he gently slides his fingers from your sopping hole, placing a final feather-light kiss to your clit before his lips and hands move to soothe your quivering thighs.

“you did so good, baby, holy shit..” the bottom half of his face is soaked in your juices as he mouths along your skin, hands massaging and caressing whatever his lips aren’t kissing;

you’re still bewildered, and can feel the raging blush on your cheeks as you’re quick to blurt in embarrassment, “i-i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to-“

“y/n.” yeonjun looks up. “seriously, that was so fucking hot, you have no idea.”

you can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.

“r-really?”

he laughs, finally sitting up; “baby, i- fuck, like, you actually have no fucking idea how sexy you are.” he pushes his hair out of his face and it’s only then that you realize how heavy he’s breathing, the bulge straining against his pants somehow a million times more prominent than it was earlier.

“y/n, i’m so turned on right now that i can hardly think straight. please-“

you meet his eyes again quickly,

“please, i need to be inside you.”

apparently today is the day that you learn just how crazy choi yeonjun makes you, because despite your still-twitching thighs and your pussy so sensitive that you’re sure a slight breeze would send it into overdrive, your body is quick to betray you at his toe-curling words when your walls clench from the emptiness and a fresh wave of arousal gushes from your soaked heat.

“if you don’t fuck me right now i’m gonna go clinically insane.”

his brows lift only for a moment before he’s laughing, swooping down to catch your lips in a kiss. “well we can’t have that, now, can we?”

he gets off the bed, your eyes hungrily tracking his every move as he peels the tank top from his torso and casts it to the ground; “fuck,” you whisper as your gaze trails down the defined ridges of his abs; “fuck,” you groan when he hooks his thumbs around the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls them down with his boxers in one go.

his cock is long and slender and flushed pink, the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as you imagine the weight of it in your mouth.

if it were anyone else, you’d wanna slap the shit-eating grin right off of his face, but this is yeonjun, and the fact that he knows he’s all that only makes him 10x hotter.

you can’t tear your eyes away from his length as you sit up on your elbows to watch, and he enjoys it, pumping himself in his hand and smearing the pre-cum around his tip with a satisfied hum.

but as he reaches for the condoms in his desk drawer, you surprise both him and yourself when you stop him.

“no.”

he pauses, looking over his shoulder at you with quirked brows —

“want you to fuck me raw.”

his mouth goes dry. you can see the fire dancing in his eyes as he slowly straightens, keeping himself under control as he asks carefully,

“are you sure?”

you bite your lip and quickly nod. “wanna feel you,” you breathe, and that does it for yeonjun as he’s back on top of you in an instant, his lips pressing to yours in a searing kiss as you moan around his swirling tongue.

his hand is on your throat, not squeezing, just resting there as if to say you’re mine, and you whine deep in your chest when you feel the tip of his cock sliding through your slippery folds.

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy so full of my cum that it’ll be dripping out of it for days,” he rasps as he taps the head of his cock repeatedly over your clit, the lewd noise met with your whimpers as you grasp at his bicep.

“please,” you whine, “want it, please-!”

his hand slides from your neck down to squeeze your tit as he sits up and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder with his free hand.

“so good for me,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and lusting as he looks down at you, dragging his shaft back and forth along your slick pussy; “such a good girl, begging for daddy.”

and when he finally pushes the head of his cock past your entrance, stretching you open as he sinks inside, stars explode behind your eyes and you nearly cum again right there on the spot.

“fuuck..” he groans in a drawn-out moan, eyes sliding shut and head tipping back as your walls suck him in, mouth falling open before he catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth and looks back down at you through hazy eyes, giving another rough squeeze to your tit in his grasp.

he slides his hand down to press against your lower belly as he bottoms out, your hips twitching as you gasp, and with his other hand he grips your leg that’s slung over his shoulder as he begins to grind his hips against yours.

you can’t breathe, can’t speak, overwhelmed by how fucking good it all feels, the head of his cock massaging places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed as he rolls his hips over and over, whispering fucked-out nothings;

how tight you are, how good you feel, how he’s gonna make you forget your own name by tomorrow.

and when he starts really moving, hips separating from yours only to connect again with a lewd slap of skin on skin each time he delivers a slow, firm thrust to your cunt, holding you in place so you don’t jolt up the bed — well, you never knew that something so delicious existed, and now that you’ve had a taste, you’re already rendered insatiable.

you paw at any part of him that you can reach, hands finding purchase on his thighs as his pace picks up into a steady rhythm, your lips moaning and pleading and begging around words that you can hardly get out of your mouth.

“look at you,” yeonjun coos breathlessly, “so drunk on my cock already.. perfect pussy made just for me, hm? taking daddy so well? good baby.”

he looks as blissed out as you feel, face wracked in pleasure as he picks up the pace, his hand so large where it still presses over your lower belly that his thumb is able to reach your clit, and the added stimulation along with the pressure of his palm sends your head lolling as you twitch and tremble underneath him.

“j-jjunie..!” you whimper, and you can’t help the nickname from slipping between your lips; you’ve never called him so intimately before, never said his name so freely, but your accidental drop of honorifics seems to stir something inside of him as he groans and fucks you harder;

“say that again,” he grunts as you gasp out from the sudden increase in pace.

“jjunie,” you keen immediately, gripping the sheets, gripping his arms, gripping anything as a muttered curse leaves his lips and his thumb circles faster around your aching clit.

“love it when you say my name, fuck,” he groans, hips slamming into yours and jolting you like a ragdoll as you cry out for him, the knot in your stomach tightening so fast that you swear it’s about to snap, and when he leans forward with your leg still gripped over his shoulder and his cock pounding into you at a far deeper angle than before, fireworks fill your vision as you cum around him harder than you’ve ever came in your life.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck, that’s it, cream on my cock, baby, fuck you’re so- s-so tight, fuck- just like that, let go for me, baby, good girl-“

yeonjun’s voice sounds far away as you spasm around him, his thrusts growing sloppier as your cunt clenches him so tight that it nearly forces him out; he lowers your leg back down to the bed and slows down a little to let you catch your breath but he doesn’t stop, and your watery whimpers are like music to his ears as you clutch onto him desperately.

“t-too much, too much-!” you hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes at all the overwhelming sensations, but you don’t actually want him to stop and he knows it too — he coos at you, hand sliding up to rest on your throat again as he leans down and licks a stripe up your neck to your ear.

“you can give me one more, baby, can’t you?”

a shiver rolls down your spine at the devilish smile in his voice, sweet like honey as he catches your earlobe between his teeth.

“one more so daddy can stuff you nice and full.”

your pussy clenches. “w-want your cum,” you whimper dumbly in response, too fucked out to think of anything else, and yeonjun smiles as he leans back and runs his hands down your body until they reach your hips and squeeze.

“i know,” his thrusts are still steady as he watches you with twinkling eyes; “and i’m gonna give it to you.”

your eyes widen in protest as he suddenly slides out of you without a warning, but the words die in your throat and are replaced with a squeak of surprise when he flips you over onto your stomach instead.

“ass up for me, pretty girl.”

you obey immediately with what strength you have left in your shaky limbs, a quiet whine escaping your throat over not being able to see or touch him anymore.

his little laugh from behind you indicates that he caught it.

“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes as his hands massage over your ass, “we have all the time in the world.”

your heart doesn’t even have time to skip a beat at the promise of his words when suddenly his tongue is on your pussy, your knees nearly buckling at the heat of his mouth as he licks from your clit up to your fluttering hole, and you gasp as he spits on it before his cock enters you fully in one single thrust.

you cry out, knees buckling for real this time as he holds you up, sheets crumpled in your fists as his hips immediately pick up into a quick, dizzying pace.

“love the way you fall apart around me,” he murmurs from behind you, squeezing your ass, “love how you take me so well…”

you want to touch him so badly, want to see the pleasure pooling in his eyes; you don’t have time to respond before he lands a smack on your ass, your surprised squeak spurring him on as he does it again, drilling into your cute little hole like it was made just for him as he breathes out a moan.

from this angle he can see the way your pussy swallows him so hungrily, and his grip on your hips tightens as he drags you back and forth on his cock.

“love.. l-love your.. love this so much… w-wanna be yours…”

he almost misses your dazed mumbling over the loud sound of his hips slapping lewdly against your ass, but he makes out what you said, heart swelling in his chest and cock simultaneously twitching inside of you as he leans forward, his palm sliding up along your spine to brush the hair from your fucked-out face as he pushes your body down against the sheets, chest pressed to your back now and breath caressing your ear as he continues rocking his hips even deeper.

“you’re mine, baby, you’re mine..” he whispers between kisses along your jaw, a reassurance, your soft whimper of a response causing him to bite back a smile as he continues,

“i’ve wanted you for so long.. can’t believe i finally get to have you.” his hand slips beneath you to toy with your throbbing clit, and your ass grinds back against him as a result as you moan wantonly into his sheets.

“i’ve been yours since the.. fuck.. since the second i s-saw you..fuck, p-please don’t stop..!”

your hips are moving with his now as he works your clit faster, mustering your strength and pushing your weight back as you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, on his fingers, chasing the rising wave in your belly that’s threatening to break as he meets your quickening movements with his own.

“touch yourself for me, baby,” he murmurs in your ear before removing his hand and propping himself up on his forearms, allowing for a more concentrated angle as he ruts into you, your choked moan muffled by the sheets as you immediately slide one hand down to rub rapidly at your clit, your other one weakly moving to tangle your fingers with his the best that you can;

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whimper, drool pooling at your lips, the scent of yeonjun’s cologne and the weight of his body on yours like pure intoxication as he fucks you harder, breaths heavy and staggering in your ear as he grunts,

“cum for me, baby, need to feel it, cum all over my fucking cock-“

and when your third orgasm washes over you, you’re too weak to do anything but let it, body going limp as it wracks over you in pure bliss, the warm feeling of your clenching walls finally sending yeonjun over the edge this time as he shoots his cum into you with a loud and drawn-out moan, voice breaking as he spews filthy words and incoherent curses; he presses his hips impossibly deep against yours before stuttering into sloppy thrusts to fuck himself through the rest of his orgasm as your fluttering pussy milks his cock of every last drop.

the room grows silent save for your heavy breaths, both of your chests heaving as his forehead slumps down to rest against your back; you didn’t realize how tightly you were holding onto his hand until you carefully untangle your fingers from his.

he hisses from the sensitivity as he slides his twitching length out of you.

you look at yeonjun as he rolls off of your back and flops exhaustedly onto his side next to you, and when he meets your eyes, there’s only a passing moment of silence before you both giggle.

his smile is fond and blooming with affection as he rubs a hand up and down your back, moving to smoothe the hair from your face and gently brushing his knuckles across your cheek before resting his hand on top of yours.

“hi,” he whispers.

you giggle again.

“hi,” you whisper back.

“so.. would this be a good time to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

your heart skips a beat and you bite back a smile. “i was worried you’d just want to stick to the sex..” you admit.

yeonjun shakes his head, lips forming into an endearing pout as he laces his fingers with yours.

“nah, you’re stuck with me now, princess,” he grins. “i meant what i said… i’ve been wanting you for so long.”

an indescribable feeling flutters in your chest as you giddily turn your head to bury your face in the sheets, yeonjun laughing as he shuffles closer, rolling you over onto your back despite your giggle-ridden, poorly-executed attempts to fight him off.

you grin up at him and he grins down at you, hovering over you now with a hand on your cheek as his endeared eyes trail over each of your features as if to memorize them.

“my girl,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you tilt your head up to meet his lips when he leans in and kisses you softly, your hands playing with the long hair at the nape of his neck.

“i meant what i said too,” you murmur against him.

“mine since the second you saw me, huh?” yeonjun’s cocky grin is light and teasing as you scrunch your nose at him, flicking his forehead and sending him into another pout.

“yeah, yeah. whatever, pretty boy.”

instead of responding he buries his face in your neck in a flurry of kisses as you squeal in surprise, laughing as you wiggle around underneath him;“stop, that tickles!”

“gotta make up for all the lost time when i didn’t make a move,” he reasons as his kisses move to your cheeks, your nose, your lips — you’ve never seen this side of yeonjun before, so soft and gentle and sweet; the fact that it seems reserved only for you sends butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

you spend your evening like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as you talk about your relationship, talk about the feelings that led you here, talk about this and that and everything in-between;

“does this count as our first date?” you ask quizzically. he wrinkles his nose.

“no way, i’m gonna do the most romantic shit ever for that.”

you snort. “isn’t that what this is?”

but you don’t have the chance to tease him any further when the beeping sound of his apartment passcode being entered causes you both to freeze.

you were so caught up that neither of you considered the time; nor the fact that yeonjun does indeed have 4 other roommates who would in fact be coming home at some point or another.

that some point apparently being now as the rowdy chatter of your friends erupts into the foyer until you suddenly hear soobin’s tipsy mumble. “what the… what are y/n’s shoes doing here?”

you and yeonjun turn to look at each other as your friends’ voices fall silent.

the seconds pass and you almost wonder if you’re in the clear…

but of course, no peace lasts forever with beomgyu in the house.

“OH MY GOD,” he screams.

“THEY FUCKED!”

[reading-the-stars]

How I feel after reading this right before bed. This was so cute and sweet. So much fuzzy fluffiness. I love MJ so much!

Starting to Feel Like Spring (MJ x reader)

uh ohhh… back again!

Been listening to t-swift [pls don’t cancel me yall]

so I was listening to daylight and lover. that shit had me cheesing cause all I could think about was MJ

so this gonna be about my girl MJ [i love her sm]

warnings: kinda shy and anxious reader, fluff too sweet to handle. you've been warned (T ^ T) (i kinda leave yall on a cliffhanger lol don't hate me)

the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like saying you had a crush on MJ was an understatement. at this point in your high school career, she was all your mind would allow you to think about. her pretty curls, her crooked tooth, her snarky personality, everything about her completely took over your mind. and the worst part of it was...

she didn't even know you...

it started during your first year of high school when you saw her on the J train. she had headphones in her ears and her phone in her pocket. as she walked between the train doors she sat on the opposite end of your bench. she hadn't even seen your lingering gaze on her as you stared in awe at her pretty hair and gorgeous face.

you tried to resist looking at her for the entire train ride as more people began boarding the train and sitting between you two. you focused on your phone for the few more stops you had left until you got off. when you left the train onto the platform, thats when you saw her walk right past you.

she goes to the same school as me...

she was the first girl you knew in real life that you had ever really had a crush on. you had no idea what to do with this information and so you did what any normal gay person would do; you panicked.

what if she didn't like your personality? what if she thought you were weird? what if she wasn't into girls?

with all these questions floating around in your head, you chose to just watch and crush on her from afar. and so that's what you did.. for the next 3 years– and you did a pretty damn good job at it too might i add. she hadn't noticed you throughout high school which you were grateful for, but that didn't stop your heart from aching for her.

i've loved you three summers now honey, but i want them all.

looking at the clock tick for what seemed like forever, the bell had finally rung indicating lunchtime.

as you got up from your seat, you looked behind you to see mj struggling to put all her notes back into her bag. most people were gone, it was just you two and two other kids talking to the teacher after class. you were just staring at her for a hot second until you realized you probably looked like a damn creep. heart racing when mj finally looked up at your blank face, you quickly said, "d-do you want some help with that?"

"um, you're a little late to the game bud..."

you looked down to see her zipping up her bag, notes, and textbook already off the table. you felt like an idiot.

"oh, well sorry.." you said as you quickly turned around. you walked away as fast as you could to avoid having to face any more embarrassment than you already had. as you walked through the halls and down the stairwell all you could think about was what just happened three minutes ago. you decided that you would never make such a stupid mistake like that ever again. why would you even try to talk to her? you should have just left when you had the chance.

can i go where you go? can we always be this close?

as you walked to the main entrance of the school with your wallet in hand, a guy named ned from one of your AP seminar class came rushing past you, peter following close behind you assumed. you assumed correctly; you aren't close to the two or anything. you've only interacted with them separately a few times before, but that was only for school stuff. walking out of the double doors and into the real world, you walked towards your usual lunch spot under a tree with all the other trees and pungent-smelling flowers that always bloomed during the spring time. it was surely different from the usual new york smell you usually smelled every day. that's why you loved it so much. as you made your way over you could see people bathing in the sun and families having picnics. opening up the black plastic bag you carried in your backpack, you took out the deli sandwich and (snack of choice).

you put in some headphones and put on some tunes to match the vibe of the park. looking around and eating your sandwich, you spotted peter walking in the grass a few feet away from you. he was holding a pizza pie and ned was of course following behind him. unbeknownst to you, mj was behind ned walking with her eyes glued to her phone. the group of what you assumed to be two sat at a bench next to the tree you were sitting under.

and thats when you saw her.

right at the edge of the bench facing your direction. you chose to start packing all your shit up, determining that your usual lunch spot was no longer safe from her.

and at every table, i'll save you a seat.. lover

"hey! you're in my chem class right?"

you stopped what you were doing to look up at peter, who called you out.

"um yeah.. hey."

"cool come join us! there's a pie and it's extra large, enough to go around!"

you just stood there, staring yet again. you seemed to do that a lot.

peter stood up taking things into her own hands and took your hand in his. "c'mon theres enough."

"don't force the poor girl pete. does she even know you?"

mj... she was defending you from peter. or she was just being nice and didn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

"of course she knows me, don't you?"

"um, yeah sure," you didn't know what else to say. you walked with peter to the seat seemingly reserved for you right next to mj. you sat next to her looking at your lap not wanting to look up just yet.

"so, do you come here all the time? it's a cool place we just found it today," said ned with pizza in his mouth. you kept your head down, heart beating out of your chest.

mj scooted closer to you making butterflies erupt in your stomach. she leaned into your ear as she spoke to you and you alone

"you can leave if you want. just cause peter dragged you here against your will doesn't mean you have to stay if you're uncomfortable."

you quickly looked up to face her, head spinning from the interaction and how close she was, "i'm ok. thanks."

i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you

"ok just wanted to make sure."

she took a paper plate and a slice of pizza handing it to you. you took your hands off your lap to take the pizza out of her hand mumbling a small, "thanks."

"oh my god!" ned yelled out of literally nowhere.

"the star wars milllenium falcom set is on sale!"

"no way how much??" peter said grabbing neds phone to look at the set they were talking about.

mj turned to look at you as the other two debated buying an $800 lego set. "its every day with these guys and their lego sets. ignore them," she said turning to face you completely.

you nodded as you looked down again to avoid her looking at you. suddenly, your hands back in your lap seemed very interesting.

the both of you stayed silent for a while with peter and ned in the background talking their heads off. you chose to make a move, even though not even 20 minutes ago, you told yourself you would never speak to her again out of fear of saying something stupid.

"i really like flowers."

seriously???

"oh, umm well what kinds of flowers do you like?" she responded, deciding to humor you a bit.

"carnations... they're like all over the place at this park."

"oh? i don't think i've ever seen one.. or maybe i have and i just didn't know what it was," she said. this was your chance, your chance to talk to her, maybe even become friends.

you smiled a little as you stood up from the picnic bench. you reached your slightly sweating hand out to her hoping she would take it. "there are a bunch in this area, lemme show you."

please take my hand

she smiled as she took your hand.

she smiled at you.

i only see daylight daylight daylight daylight

as you walked through the park, you introduced mj to all the different flowers in the area that you knew, which was almost all of them. for the very few you didn't know, mj tried to help out by typing in very descriptive attributes of the flowers into google. as you walked through the grass and flowers of the grass, mj was picking flowers along the way. she pointed to a flower you knew all too well and said

"oh shit isn't this the one you were showing me before?"

"oh my gosh yes! oh my, they're gorgeous.. god i love them so much," you rambled on and on about the carnations talking to a mindless mj about how timeless they were and how their beauty never goes out of style. you didn't notice mj and the way she was admiring the reflection of the pretty flowers in your eyes.

you saw mj's hand reach for a flower to pick, assuming she was going to add it to the never growing bouquet in her hands. however, when her hand reached for your hair, you went quiet and wide-eyed.

"i thought it would look nice in your hair."

and i can still see it all (in my mind)

she was so close. her hand still in your hair slowly began to slip down to your face. she was so soft, not only her hand but her eyes, her expression, her breathing, her soul. in this moment you could feel all of her. she was so close, yet so far.

all of you, all of me (intertwined)

she took a step closer to me, her chest heaving a little quicker than before.

i once believed love would be (black and white)

"can i kiss you?"

but it's golden (golden)

your breathing began to pick up at a seemingly unhealthy rate. for all you knew, you were having a heart attack, but god you hoped not. not here, not now.

and i can still see it all (in my head)

"a-am i making you uncomfortable? im sorry i can leave if you want-" she panicked after earning no response from you. she backed away slightly, but when her soft hand was off your face, you snapped out of whatever trance you were in.

back-and-forth from new york (sneakin' in your bed)

you pulled her into you so your chests were basically smooshed together. you could feel the fast beating of her heart, as she could feel yours.

i once believed love would be (burning red)

you grabbed her face as you leaned into her kiss her like you've wanted to all these years.

if felt electric, like there were sparks between your lips. your breathing was heavy as her hands came up to cup your face. your arms around her waist as if they were made for holding her close.

her lips on yours felt right like this is something you should have been doing a long time ago. it felt like her lips had been on yours forever until she pulled away. you leaned into her even more chasing her lips to be on yours again. giggling, she said,

"i like you too.”

but it's golden ♡

AHHHHH I ALMOST THREW UP CAUSE OF HOW CUTE THIS SHIT WAS

this was pretty long i think.

but anything for my mj <3

this was kinda random lol sorry if it doesn't make sense

[forcebook]

i know i’m the world’s most suspicious person to talk about forcebook but MY GOD this episode of peaceful property filled me with awe and made me love force and book even more

so much of their characters was about physicality, communicating through dances and glances and playfulness (this last one being one of forcebook’s strongest points alskskks) and they did it all so well!

you could effortlessly tell book’s character was better at dancing than force’s and GODDDD BOOK KASIDET HOW FAR YOU’VE COME!!! THE ACTOR YOU’VE BECOME!!!! the sweetness he poured into vicha’s character, the silent but deep feelings running under the surface. his love was quieter but devastatingly powerful and losing phoom broke him beyond repairing

all with little dialogue and the world’s saddest face brought to you by an ever growing actor like book!!!

and force just took my breath away with the sad scenes. he’s become so good at showing vulnerability on screen and you could see all of phoom’s suffering and heartbreak. he was just a kid and his mother’s rage was far too strong for him to face but GOD phoom loved vicha, he loves him, always will!!!!!

phoom and vicha’s connection is so strong that vicha won’t leave this earth. they don’t really want to separate even though death already did it. it’s heartbreaking, it’s moving, it’s so very HUMAN

all portrayed beautifully by force and book!!!!! their chemistry is, as always, UNMATCHED!!!! and the actor who played older force too. what a performance!!! writing through my tears!!!! this was excellent tv!!!!

[michaelsfavgirl]

freaky friday

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!actress!reader

Synopsis: One ordinary night, you and Michael unexpectedly switch bodies, forcing him to navigate life as you. With no choice, he has to go on set and do his best to act like you.

Tags: switching bodies, established relationship, bit of fluff, jealousy.

Word Count: 9.1k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: hey...*crickets*

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, but it’s barely audible over Quentin Tarantino’s voice as he rambles on about some minute detail in the script, his words now a constant, steady stream of sound that filters through your ears but doesn't quite register. You've been in this room for hours, long enough for the sunlight streaming through the blinds to fade into the amber hue of early evening. You sit in a chair at the head of a large wooden table, posture more relaxed now, legs crossed, fingers lazily spinning a pen between them. Across from you, Quentin is pacing back and forth, script in hand, gesturing wildly as he talks. His energy seems endless, as if he could do this for days, while you feel the weight of exhaustion creeping in after such a long day.

“…and in this scene, I really want the tension to build, you know? Like, build, build, build, until it just explodes!” Quentin exclaims, throwing his hands up dramatically, making you wonder how his arms don't tire from all the gesturing. His face lights up with an excitement that borders on obsessive, eyes wide, pacing faster now. His energy is contagious in some moments, but tonight, it’s hard to keep up.

You nod absently, eyes drifting from him to the shelf behind his head. It’s cluttered, filled with mementos from over the years: awards, photographs, and odd little trinkets from his film sets. Your gaze lands on a photo, one you’ve seen many times before but somehow always pulls you in. It’s a candid shot taken at the Oscars last year. You and Quentin are at the center, surrounded by other actors, all of you dressed to the nines. You’d won your second Best Actress Oscar that night, a moment forever immortalized in that photo.

But what you remember more than the cheers or the weight of the golden statue in your hand is the way Michael, your husband, had looked at you from the audience. You can still picture his face, glowing with pride, those deep brown eyes locked on you with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat. He had been your plus one, and even in the crowd of Hollywood’s finest, no one else had mattered in that moment. The applause, the cameras, the stage, it had all blurred into the background as you looked down at him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude. 

“…and then we cut to the next shot. It’s gotta be quick, right? We don’t wanna linger too long. Keep the pace moving. Keep the audience on their toes.”

Quentin’s voice cuts through the haze of your memories, pulling you back into the present. You blink, refocusing on him. He’s still pacing, still talking a mile a minute, but you can’t help but feel the fatigue in your bones. The weariness of running through this script for what feels like the hundredth time today. 

You shift in your seat, fighting the urge to yawn, and give him a small nod as if you’ve been following every word. He’s grumbling now, something about the studio and time limits, and you watch as his expression darkens, his tone becoming more irritated.

"Those bastards are putting a time limit on this film," he growls, finally stopping his pacing to look at you directly, expecting some kind of outrage or agreement.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Quentin and his disdain for anything that constrains his creative process is almost comical at this point. The man would make a ten-hour film if he could, and still call it concise.

“Oh, how cruel,” you tease lightly, your voice dripping with faux concern. “Three hours is basically a short film.”

His eyes narrow into a glare, though you know it’s all in good fun. He pauses for a moment, mouth twitching as if he’s holding back a retort, but the glare softens just slightly. You’ve spent enough time with him over the years to know how to push his buttons in just the right way, and he enjoys the back-and-forth.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his lips as you stretch your arms over your head, standing up slowly, letting out a sigh. You glance at the clock—half past seven—and wonder how the hell you’re still here. The set’s calling your name, and tomorrow you’ll be there, in the thick of it, channeling everything into the role that’s consumed your life for the last few months. But tonight? Tonight you need to rest, to recharge, to find your center again.

You look back at Quentin, who’s still watching you, waiting, expecting something more. He’s always pushing, always wanting to squeeze out every last drop of energy you have for his vision. But not tonight.

“I think we should wrap this up, tin tin,” you say, voice firm but gentle. You meet his gaze, your expression softening just enough to let him know you appreciate his drive, but you’re done for the night. “We’ve been through this a hundred times. I need to get home.”

He bristles, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “But what about-”

You cut him off, taking a step toward the door, grabbing your coat from the back of the chair as you do. “Do you want me to give a perfect performance tomorrow?” you ask, your voice filled with a knowing tone. The words linger in the air, the challenge in your voice unmistakable.

He hesitates, blinking at you, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. He knows where this is going. Of course he wants a perfect performance—he demands nothing less. But he’s also not one to let go easily, not when he’s on a roll. You give him a small, raised eyebrow, waiting for him to catch up.

“Obviously,” he mutters, crossing his arms, a faint pout forming on his lips like a petulant child who didn’t get his way. 

“Then I need to rest in order to do that,” you say, pulling your coat around your shoulders and moving toward the door. There’s a finality to your tone, one that brooks no argument, and Quentin, despite his tenacity, knows when to concede. 

He opens his mouth, but you’re already one step ahead. You flash him a playful smile as your hand grips the door handle. 

“Arrivederci,” you say with a dramatic flair, throwing the goodbye over your shoulder like it’s the end of one of his own films. And before he can utter a single word in response, you pull the door open and step through, closing it firmly behind you.

With a soft chuckle, you adjust your coat and make your way toward the exit. Your thoughts drift back to Michael, to the way his eyes had sparkled that night at the Oscars, and you find yourself eager to get home. To slip into the warmth of his embrace, to hear his voice, to recharge in the comfort of your shared life before the madness of filming begins again tomorrow.

The gravel crunches softly under your feet as you walk along the familiar path that winds through Neverland Ranch. The late afternoon sun bathes everything in a golden glow, casting long shadows across the sprawling landscape. It’s peaceful here, a serene retreat away from the chaos of your everyday life. You smile at the sight of the gardeners, working diligently as always, their hands tending to the earth with precision and pride. You wave hello, receiving a warm smile in return, and for a moment, everything feels right with the world.

Without hesitation, you reach the front door and let yourself in. You’ve long since stopped ringing the bell; this is your home too, after all. The door clicks shut behind you, and as soon as you step inside, you’re greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of dinner. The rich smell of herbs and spices fills the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation. You know immediately that Michael has been in the kitchen, cooking up something special for the two of you. 

You follow the scent like a trail of breadcrumbs. The light in the house is soft and warm, casting everything in a cozy glow. It feels like home—safe, welcoming, and full of love.

In the kitchen, you see the spread he’s prepared—a feast for the senses. Without thinking, you grab a fork and take a bite of the nearest plate, the mouth watering taste hitting your tongue in a perfect combination. You close your eyes for a second, savoring the flavor.

But before you can take a second bite, you feel his presence behind you. His arms snake around your waist, his chest pressing gently into your back. You stiffen slightly in surprise, not having heard him approach. Startled, you almost drop the fork, and in your jolt, you nearly knock him off balance. His chuckle, low and soft, vibrates against you as his grip tightens, steadying you both.

“Easy, easy there, sweet girl,” he coos in your ear, his voice a soothing whisper, filled with amusement and affection. His breath is warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but laugh at your reaction. 

You turn in his arms, your body relaxing as you face him. Michael’s eyes sparkle with mischief, that familiar boyish grin tugging at his lips, and before you can say anything, he bends his head down, placing a series of slow, deliberate kisses along your neck. The sensation is electric, and you feel your muscles go lax as his lips trail up and down your skin, his kisses gentle, unhurried, as if he’s savoring every inch of you. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt for support as you melt into his embrace. 

“Hmm,” you hum softly, leaning into him, your body pressing closer to his lean frame, completely at ease in his arms. His touch has always had that effect on you—grounding you, making the world disappear until it’s just the two of you.

“Tired, baby?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a quiet, tender note of concern. His lips brush the curve of your jaw, and you hum again, the sound barely more than a sleepy sigh. You don’t have the energy to answer in full sentences, the weight of the day’s exhaustion catching up with you now that you’re in his arms.

Noticing how you’re practically sagging against him, he chuckles softly and shifts his hold on you. One arm slides around your back while the other scoops under your knees, and before you know it, he’s lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

“Let’s get you into something more comfortable,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You don’t protest, your head resting against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a peaceful haze. 

He carries you through the wide hallways to your shared bedroom. Michael sets you down gently on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering at your waist as he kneels in front of you, looking up with those dark, expressive eyes that always seem to see straight into your soul. He starts to help you out of your clothes, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your blouse, moving with slow, deliberate care.

“You were amazing today,” he says softly as he slides the fabric off your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin in the process. “I know it.” His praise is sincere, his voice filled with admiration. Even though he wasn’t there with you at the meeting, he always knows how to make you feel like you’ve conquered the world.

His hands move down to your shoes next, gently removing them one by one as he continues his soft praise. “You’ve been working so hard. You deserve to rest. Let me take care of you, okay?”

You smile down at him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude for this man who knows you so well, who always seems to know exactly what you need, even when you don’t say it out loud. He’s careful, meticulous as he helps you into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a soft t-shirt, all the while whispering sweet words of encouragement, each touch and each word meant to soothe you into complete relaxation.

Once you’re dressed, he stands and pulls you back into his arms for a moment, his hand running up and down your back in long, gentle strokes. “There,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now you’re ready to eat.”

Back in the dining room, you settle at the table, the delicious meal spread out before you like a banquet. Michael sits across from you, and the two of you dig in, the quiet comfort of home surrounding you as you enjoy the meal together.

“So,” he begins after a few bites, leaning back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you with a soft smile. “How was the meeting with Quentin?”

You roll your eyes playfully as you swallow your food, already anticipating the subtle interrogation that’s about to follow. “It was long,” you say with a sigh. “We went over the script again for what felt like the hundredth time. But it went well. We’re ready to start shooting tomorrow.”

Michael nods thoughtfully, taking another bite of his food. There’s a pause, just a beat too long, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s never been great at hiding his feelings, and you can sense the question coming before he even asks it.

“And… How's André?” he asks casually, too casually, as if he’s just making conversation. But the slight raise of his eyebrow, the way his eyes flicker with something more than curiosity, gives him away. 

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and teasing as you set your fork down and meet his gaze with an amused look. “Michael,” you say, your tone playful but firm. “Are you really asking about him?”

He shrugs, trying to maintain his nonchalant air, but there’s a spark of jealousy in his eyes that he can’t quite hide. “Just… curious. You know, he’s your co-star. You two have some pretty… close scenes together.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms as you study him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You’re never good at hiding your jealousy.”

He chuckles, looking down at his plate for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I’m not jealous,” he says, but there’s a playful lilt in his voice, and you know he’s not being entirely truthful. “I just… want to make sure everything’s professional. That’s all.”

You reach across the table, placing your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to worry about André. He’s a professional, and so am I. It’s just acting, Michael.”

He nods, but you can still see the way his jaw tenses slightly, the protective edge that always seems to come out when he talks about your work, especially when it involves other men. It’s endearing, in a way—his fierce devotion to you, the way he always wants to make sure you’re safe, loved, and protected. 

“Besides,” you add, your voice softening as you meet his gaze. “There’s only one person I’m coming home to at the end of the day.” 

The tension in his face melts away at that, and his smile returns, warm and genuine. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I know,” he says quietly, his eyes filled with love. “I just can’t help it sometimes.”

You smile back at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I know. And I love you for it.” The rest of dinner passes in comfortable conversation, the two of you talking about everything and nothing all at once. 

The ticking of the clock grows softer, fading into the background as the night deepens. It’s close to midnight, and the exhaustion of the day is catching up to you both. After a long, relaxing dinner and some quiet moments together, there’s only one thing left to do before you can finally collapse into bed: shower.

You two move in sync, heading to the spacious, marbled bathroom that’s become a familiar haven. The cool air in the room brushes against your skin, but the anticipation of the warm water about to cascade over you is enough to chase away the chill. Michael moves ahead of you, twisting the faucet, adjusting the temperature until steam starts to rise, filling the room with warmth. He steps inside first, and as the water begins to rain down over his lean frame, you can’t help but stare.

Droplets of water cling to his skin, gliding down his body, tracing the contours of his muscles. His curls loosen under the stream, sticking to his forehead. You stand frozen for a moment, captivated by the sight of him. There’s something about seeing him like this, vulnerable and intimate, that makes your breath hitch.

He looks at you, a teasing grin on his face. “You planning to stand there all night or are you getting in?”

You blink, snapping out of your daze, and laugh softly. “Just admiring the view.”

His grin widens, and he steps aside to make room for you. You join him under the shower’s warm spray, feeling the water wash away the day’s tension, soothing your sore muscles. The heat envelopes you both, the glass walls fogging up quickly.

He smiles softly, knowing exactly what you need without you having to say a word. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, and you let out a contented sigh as you rest your head against his chest. The feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his embrace, it all feels so right. You stay like that for a while, just letting the water wash over you, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment.

After a while, you both step out, toweling off and heading to bed. The sheets are cool against your skin as you settle into the plush pillows, and the comforting hum of the TV in the background lulls you into a sense of peace. Michael curls up beside you, the two of you cuddling close as the “The Nanny” plays softly in the background. You’re not really paying attention to the show anymore, too focused on the steady rhythm of Michael’s hand rubbing your back.

His touch is gentle, soothing in its familiarity, but when he stops, you immediately feel the absence. You whine softly, the sound barely a murmur, but enough to get his attention.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Alright. alright” he teases, his voice low and affectionate.

You pout in response, pressing closer to him. “Don’t stop…”

With a soft laugh, he resumes, his warm palm sliding across your back, fingers moving in slow, gentle strokes. His touch is everything—comforting, grounding, a constant reminder of his presence beside you. You shift slightly, settling deeper into the sheets.

“A little to the left,” you mumble sleepily, eyes closed as you surrender to the growing drowsiness.

Obligingly, he scratches your back to the left, his fingers grazing the spot that has been bothering you all day. His touch feels heavenly, chasing away any lingering tension in your body. 

“And a little lower…” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as sleep begins to pull you under.

He complies, his smile audible in his voice as he says, “Anything else, your majesty?”

You hum softly, too tired to respond, already halfway asleep. His hand moves in slow, soothing circles, the warmth of his body against yours lulling you further into unconsciousness. With a contented sigh, you let yourself drift, the comfort of the moment enveloping you completely. This has been such an ordinary day, right? Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary—just another day in your life with Michael. Right?

Little do you know, something extraordinary is about to happen.

Morning comes too soon, and the first thing you hear is the blaring sound of your alarm. Groggily, you reach over to your nightstand to turn it off, but your hand meets… nothing. Your brow furrows in confusion, and you fumble around blindly, your eyes still half-closed, trying to find the alarm. When your fingers finally close around the clock, it’s on Michael’s side of the bed. 

Why is it over there?

The thought is slow to form in your sleepy brain, but something feels off. You groan softly, not yet opening your eyes as you roll onto your back, rubbing your face to try to shake off the remnants of sleep. But the moment your hands touch your face, you freeze.

Your eyes snap open, and what you see makes your heart skip a beat. The hands in front of you… they’re not yours. They’re larger, rougher, with long fingers and a noticeable strength to them. Panic rises in your chest as you stare at them, and in a desperate move, you sit up and look down at your body.

Oh. Shit.

The body you’re looking at—it’s not yours. It’s Michael’s. Your breath catches in your throat, and your mind races, trying to process what the hell is going on. 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. 

You whip your head to the side, your heart pounding in your chest, and that’s when you see yourself—your actual body—sleeping peacefully beside you. Your chest tightens as you take in the sight of your own face, eyes closed, looking as serene as ever. But it’s not you. It’s not your consciousness inside that body. 

You’re in Michael’s body.

Your hand instinctively goes to your chest, and the moment your palm flattens against the unfamiliar, muscular plane of your torso, a wave of shock hits you. “What the fuck,” you whisper under your breath, your voice sounding completely foreign to your ears. Deep. Michael’s voice. 

Your eyes widen, and you glance down, your hands trembling slightly as they hover over the sheets. Curiosity, mixed with utter disbelief, gets the better of you, and before you can stop yourself, your hand slips under the covers, and you feel…it. 

You jerk your hand back immediately, your cheeks flushing with heat. “Oh my God,” you mutter, suddenly feeling like you’ve invaded his privacy in the most intimate way possible. Your mind is spinning, unable to wrap itself around what’s happening. You’re in his body. This can’t be real.

You leap out of bed, your heart racing as you start pacing back and forth, your hands running through Michael’s hair as you try to make sense of this bizarre situation. “I have to be dreaming,” you mutter to yourself. “This isn’t possible.”

But it feels real. Too real. The floor under your feet is solid, the cool air hitting your skin feels normal, and every move you make is controlled by Michael’s body. You glance back at the bed, at your body, still sleeping peacefully. How did this happen? How is this even possible?

Your alarm blares again, and you freeze. Set. The set! You have to be on set today.

“Oh god,” you groan, rubbing your face. You have to be on set in a few hours, and you’re stuck in Michael’s body. How are you supposed to shoot your scenes when you’re like this? 

Michael’s voice comes out in a groggy mumble as he snuggles his face into the pillow. “What’s all the fuss about?” he grumbles, clearly still half-asleep, his voice soft and pitched higher than usual. He shifts slightly, his hand lazily reaching out for the blanket, but then he freezes. The sound of his own voice – or rather, the sound of your voice – pulls him out of the last remnants of sleep. His eyes snap open in confusion.

He lifts his head slowly, blinking against the morning light, and when he finally looks over at you, his jaw drops. He stares at your(his) body, standing there looking every bit as stunned as he feels. His eyes widen in disbelief, and for a few seconds, it’s like his brain can’t catch up to the reality of what’s happening. He looks down at himself, or rather, at your body, and back up at you, back and forth in stunned silence.

“The hell…” he whispers, his voice coming out higher, more pitched. It sounds completely foreign to him, like someone else is speaking through his mouth.

You’re already pacing, hands running through his hair. Your body language is full of anxious energy, and he can tell right away you’re freaking out. Michael takes a deep breath and forces himself to move. Slowly, as calmly as possible, he slides out of the bed, every movement cautious like he’s trying not to break something.

Once on his feet, he takes a few shaky steps toward you. It feels weird and when he looks up at you he has to tilt his head to meet your eyes. The shift in perspective is jarring. He’s never realized how much taller he is than you until now. Is this what it’s like for you every day, looking up at him like this?

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath, still trying to keep calm. “Is this what I look like to you?”

You glance at him, still pacing in his body, and for a split second, your stress breaks. You can’t help but giggle. “How does it feel to be the short one now?”

He shoots you a look, your own sharp stare coming right back at you. “Not the time,” he says, his tone clipped. 

The giggle dies on your lips, and you nod, understanding this is serious. Michael begins pacing now, mirroring the frantic energy you had just moments before. Watching your own body pace back and forth is surreal. You’ve never seen yourself like this, and there’s something bizarre about seeing your body from an outsider’s perspective, especially when you’re inside someone else.

He rubs his hands over his face, feeling your softer skin, the shape of your cheeks, and the delicate jawline he knows so well, just not from this angle. He takes a deep breath, then another, as if trying to ground himself.

“It’s fine,” he says, more to himself than to you. “It’s all fine. We can figure this out.” He’s pacing faster now, his arms moving in that exaggerated way that always happens when he’s nervous. “We’ll just… call Deepak.” His voice is quiet, more like he’s thinking out loud. “He knows about this kind of stuff, right? Spirituality, body…switching?” His voice falters at the end, and you can tell he’s grasping for something, anything to make sense of this.

“Mike,” you say, stepping forward in his body, trying to stop his pacing. But he keeps going, muttering under his breath about having all day to figure this out, that everything will be okay by tonight. You watch him, knowing he’s doing that thing where he tries to rationalize everything, even when things are wildly out of control.

You step forward and place your—no, his—strong hands on his shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. The contrast between your hand’s size and the feel of your own body beneath them is striking, and it gives you a moment of pause, but you quickly focus on the situation at hand.

“Michael,” you say again, a little more firmly this time. “We don’t have all day.”

He frowns, still confused. “What do you mean?”

“I have to be on set in two hours.”

That’s when the realization hits. His eyes widen, which is weird to see on your own face. “Oh shit,” he mutters, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. His hands drop into his lap, and he stares blankly ahead, his mind obviously racing as he processes what you just said.

You sit down next to him, the bed dipping under your combined weight. For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The silence stretches, heavy with the weight of what this means. You have to be on set today. He has to be on set today. In your body. And as that thought fully settles in, you can see the dawning horror on his face.

He’s going to have to act.

Trying to break the tension, you give him a small, teasing smile. “Maybe now’s your time to finally become an actor.”

“Not funny sweetheart.” He groans, flopping back onto the bed in exasperation, your arm flinging dramatically over his face. “This isn’t happening,” he mutters, his voice muffled. “I can’t do this.”

You chuckle softly and nudge him with your elbow. “Come on, there’s no way around it. You already know the words from helping me rehearse. You’ve practically memorized the whole script.”

He peeks at you from under his arm, his expression somewhere between resigned and panicked. “Memorizing the lines is one thing. Actually being you on set in front of Quentin and the whole crew is… insane.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right. This is insane. But there’s no other option. “Look, we don’t have a choice. And you know how I behave. Just… do what I do.”

He groans again but sits up, running a hand through your hair, which looks bizarre from this perspective. He finally seems to accept that there’s no way out of this. With a deep breath, he stands up and squares his—your—shoulders.

“Okay,” he says, exhaling slowly. “I got this. I just have to act like you.”

You smile, relieved that he’s getting on board with the plan. “Yeah. Easy.”

He nods, his expression determined as he heads toward the bathroom. But then, as you watch him go, you notice the way he’s walking—his usual confident, masculine stride. It looks completely out of place in your body, and it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing. Watching your body walk like that, like a man, is almost too much.

Shaking your head, you flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe not so easy,” you mutter to yourself, a wry smile playing on your lips.

Michael disappears into the bathroom, and you hear the water running as he splashes his face, probably trying to snap himself out of the weirdness of the situation. Meanwhile, you lay there, your mind spinning with everything that’s about to happen.

You can’t help but wonder how this day is going to play out. You’re stuck in Michael’s body, and he’s stuck in yours, and somehow you’re both going to have to survive the day without anyone figuring out what’s happened. 

—

Michael steps out of the walk-in closet, fidgeting slightly as he tugs on the sleeves of the outfit he’s just put together. It’s a far cry from what you’d usually wear, but he’s trying his best to look like you, or at the very least, like a version of you that could exist on a casual day. He looks down at himself, feeling awkward as the clothes hang a little differently on your body than he imagined.

As soon as he steps into the bedroom, you take one look at him and blurt out, “What is that outfit?” 

His brow furrows, clearly a little offended. He glances down at the clothes he’s chosen and frowns. “What’s wrong with it?” he asks, arms spreading out as if to showcase the full look.

You fold your arms across your chest, tilting your head with an exasperated sigh. “Michael, you can’t go on set looking like that. No way. Come on, I’ll get you dressed.”

He huffs in protest, standing his ground. “I think it looks fine. It’s your stuff. What’s wrong with it?”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you move forward and start rifling through the closet, your movements confident and sure, despite being in his body. “Trust me, now’s not the time to argue about this. You’ve got less than an hour before you’re supposed to be on set, and you can’t be out there looking like…” You trail off, gesturing at his body. “…like that. Just—come on, let me fix it.”

Reluctantly, Michael steps back as you start throwing together an outfit—something that actually looks like you. As he watches you, he mutters under his breath, “So, what? Were you lying every time you complimented my outfits?” he grumbles as you sift through the hangers, picking out clothes that feel more like you.

Rolling your eyes, you toss a shirt at him. “I wasn’t lying. I like your outfits… on you. But right now, you’re supposed to look like me, remember?”

Michael grumbles but complies, changing into the outfit you’ve picked out with a few more muttered complaints. Once he’s dressed, he gives you a reluctant nod, clearly not thrilled but knowing better than to argue further. The clothes fit better, at least, and when he checks his reflection in the mirror, he has to admit that he looks more like you now than he did before.

With a deep breath, he finally heads out, ready, or as ready as he’ll ever be, to tackle the day ahead.

—

At your shared home, you're reclining on a deck chair, trying to relax despite the nagging feeling of unease that’s settled in your stomach. The ranch is gorgeous as always, the sun filtering through the trees and casting a warm glow over the rolling hills. But even with the idyllic setting, you can’t fully relax. Michael’s on set, in your body, about to spend the day pretending to be you. 

You trust him, of course. But still… it’s your job, your reputation on the line. What if something goes wrong? What if he messes up? What if-

You shake your head, trying to push the worries aside. There’s nothing you can do about it now. All you can do is wait.

—

Michael arrives on set, and the moment he steps out of the car, he can feel his heart rate spike. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but it’s hard when everything around him feels so foreign. He’s been to set with you a million times before, but never like this, never as you.

You make this look so effortless—walking onto set, greeting everyone with that natural charm, slipping into character like it’s second nature. But for him, it’s like stepping into a battlefield without any armor.

As he heads toward the dressing rooms, he mentally rehearses what little he knows. Smile. Be friendly. Act like nothing’s wrong. He can do that. Right?

Walking into the building, he forces a bright smile and greets the crew, trying to channel your energy. “Morning everyone.” The words feel awkward, but no one seems to notice.

He’s ushered into the makeup chair almost immediately, and the team starts fussing over him, brushing his hair, applying your makeup. Michael watches himself in the mirror, seeing your face reflected back at him. It’s a bizarre feeling, being on the other side of this.

The real test comes when he steps out of makeup and catches sight of Quentin across the set. His heart lurches. Oh no. Quentin’s eyes lock onto him, and Michael turns on his heel, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But before he can make his escape, Quentin’s voice booms across the room.

“Hey! There she is!” Quentin’s excitement is palpable, and Michael has no choice but to turn back, plastering a smile on his face.

“Hi, Quentin!” he calls, trying to mimic your usual enthusiasm. Inside, he’s screaming.

Quentin strides over, grinning widely. “We’re starting with the scene we worked on yesterday. Got everything prepped?”

Michael’s mind races. The scene we worked on yesterday? You hadn’t mentioned anything specific about yesterday’s rehearsals. He nods, playing along, though he has no clue what Quentin is talking about. “Yeah, of course. All good.”

Quentin gives him a thumbs-up and turns to the crew, calling for everyone to quiet down. “All right, everyone! Let’s get ready for the first shot!”

As the set falls into hushed activity, Michael makes his way toward the stage, scanning the room for any sign of what’s coming next. And then he spots Andre. Great. Michael narrows his eyes. If there’s any silver lining to this ridiculous situation, it’s that he finally gets to see firsthand if Andre has a thing for you.

Andre is already in position, lounging casually in a chair, his charming smile aimed right at you. As Michael approaches, Andre stands and strides over with a relaxed confidence. “Hey, you,” Andre says, flashing that charming smile. He goes in for a hug, pulling Michael in close. Does he always hug you like this? 

Michael stiffens, his mind spinning. He’s so lost in the flood of jealousy that he doesn’t even notice Andre’s hand reach up to adjust the collar of your shirt. It’s only when he feels fingers brush his neck that he snaps out of it, stepping back abruptly.

“What are you doing?” Michael blurts out, his tone more accusatory than he intended.

Andre chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Forgot what scene we’re shooting today?”

Michael’s stomach drops. “No, I- of course I remember. We’re shooting the… uh…” He trails off, hoping for some miraculous divine intervention. None comes.

Andre gives him a knowing look, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “The confession scene.”

Michael’s throat tightens. Oh, that scene. How wonderful.

“Right. That one,” he mutters, trying to keep his composure.

Andre mumbles under his breath, just enough to be heard but not enough to draw attention. “The kiss scene.”

Michael’s mind reels. The kiss?! He didn’t know about this. But before he can respond, Quentin’s voice shouts, “Action!”

The scene begins, and Michael’s instincts kick in. He’s watched you act a thousand times; he’s even helped you rehearse your lines. But now, actually performing? It’s a whole different ballgame. He tries to remember how you carry yourself, how you deliver lines with that natural charisma.

Andre begins, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I can’t keep this inside anymore. Every time I see you, it’s like… like I’m drowning in everything I feel for you.” His eyes are locked on Michael, stepping closer with every word. “It’s not just want. It’s need. You have me enchanted.”

Michael tries to respond, his voice trembling slightly. “I… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Don’t lie. You always knew,” Andre says, his tone softening. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment we met. And now, I can’t wait anymore. I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this.”

Andre leans in, his hand brushing against Michael’s arm, and Michael feels his body tense. Oh God. The kiss.

Panicking, Michael stumbles back a step, and in the process, his elbow knocks into a vase on a nearby table. It tips and crashes to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

“Cut!” Quentin’s voice roars across the set, filled with frustration. The entire crew freezes, staring at the broken vase, then at Michael.

Michael’s heart is pounding in his chest as he tries to breathe. He feels a surge of embarrassment flood through him, but before he can explain, Quentin marches over, rubbing his forehead.

“Are you okay?” Quentin asks, exasperated but not yet furious. “You were doing fine, and then…” He gestures to the broken vase. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Michael stammers, “I just… got distracted for a second.”

Andre smirks, clearly enjoying this far more than he should be. “You good, babe? You’re not usually this jumpy.”

Babe?! Who the hell is this bitch calling babe?

Michael clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. He forces a smile, trying to keep it together. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… got a little too into it, I guess.”

Quentin waves it off, already moving back to his director’s chair. “All right, let’s reset and go again.”

As the crew rushes to clean up the broken vase and reset the scene, Michael takes a deep breath, feeling the pressure mounting. He glances at Andre, who’s watching him with an unreadable expression. The kiss. It’s coming, and there’s no way around it.

Michael glances around, trying to steady his breathing as he walks back to his mark. He’s dreading this moment. Out of all the scenes in the script, why did they have to start with this one? It’s the first time André’s character confesses his feelings for yours, and of course, it culminates in a passionate kiss. Michael grits his teeth. He’s already feeling defensive just thinking about it.

André, ever the professional, strolls over, adjusting his shirt as he gets into position. He gives Michael a quick smile, one that seems way too charming for Michael’s liking.

“Ready?” André asks, flashing that same disarming grin that Michael now finds infuriating. He’s been watching this man flirt with you for days, and now he’s got to endure him up close—way too close.

Michael forces a nod, doing his best to look calm. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

Quentin’s voice cuts through the air. “And… action!”

The scene begins, and Michael tries to focus on the lines he’s practiced, mentally repeating them as he watches André deliver his dialogue with intense emotion. André’s character is pouring his heart out, stepping closer and closer with each sentence. Michael can feel the weight of the scene, but it’s hard to concentrate when he knows what’s coming.

And then it happens. André leans in, his face just inches away from Michael’s. Their lips touch, and Michael fights the urge to pull back. He tries to stay in character, tries to be professional. He can feel André’s hands sliding over your body, gently caressing your arms and then moving lower, fingertips grazing your waist. This definitely wasn’t in the script.

What the fuck? Michael thinks, his mind racing. He swears you told him this kiss was just supposed to be a brief peck, but here he is, locked in what feels like a full-on makeout session. André’s lips press harder against yours, the kiss deepening as if the two characters are consumed by the moment. Michael is struggling to keep it together. He stiffens, resisting the instinct to shove André away.

From the corner of his eye, Michael sees Quentin nodding approvingly, almost entranced by the scene. He’s probably thinking it’s going better than planned. But Michael is ready to crawl out of his own skin.

“Cut!” Quentin finally calls, his voice filled with satisfaction. “That was great! Really great!”

The moment Quentin’s voice echoes across the set, Michael pulls away, nearly stumbling as he breaks free from André’s hold. He wipes at his mouth instinctively, a grimace twisting his features as he meets André’s eyes.

André, seemingly unfazed, just smirks. “Nice job,” he says, his voice dripping with allure.

Michael shoots him a look that would’ve melted steel, but before he can say anything, Quentin announces, “Alright, five-minute break, everyone.”

Michael turns on his heel without a word, heading straight for your dressing room. He’s barely able to keep it together, anger simmering beneath the surface. His phone is in his hand before he even realizes it, and he’s dialing your number. The moment you pick up, he doesn’t wait for you to speak.

“You didn’t tell me I’d have to do the kissing scene today!” he says sharply, his voice laced with sass.

On the other end, you try to suppress a laugh, but Michael can hear the amusement in your tone when you respond, “Well, I didn’t want to stress you out more than you already were.”

He rolls his eyes, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “That’s real considerate of you,” he mutters sarcastically. “But can we talk about that mo-... him? Why is he so touchy-feely with you?”

You sigh, and Michael can picture you rolling your eyes in return. “Michael, that’s just the way he is. He’s an actor, he’s in the moment. No need to worry about it.”

“No need to worry?” Michael huffs. “He’s clearly into you. The way he was all over me—well, you—just now? That wasn’t acting.”

You groan on the other end of the line, clearly over this conversation. “Michael, please. We’ll talk about this nonsense when you get home, okay?”

“Nonsense?” He starts to protest, but you cut him off with a quick, “Love you,” and then the line goes dead.

Michael stares at the phone, groaning as he leans back against the wall of your dressing room. He lets out a long breath, staring into the mirror. There’s your face looking back at him, but it doesn’t feel like you. It feels alien, like he’s wearing a mask that’s too tight. He tries to calm down, closing his eyes for a second before pulling himself back together. He can’t afford to lose it now, not when he’s still got a full day of shooting ahead.

With another deep breath, he heads back to the set.

—

The shooting continues, and Michael does his best to stay in character, though it’s hard. He makes a few minor mistakes—forgetting to tilt his head just right, not delivering lines with the same nuance you do—but nothing too disastrous. Quentin doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he’s not calling Michael out on it. Still, every time Michael stumbles over a line or misses a cue, his stomach clenches. He feels like he’s walking a tightrope, balancing between passing as you and being found out.

But what bothers him more than the minor acting slip-ups is André. The guy is infuriating. Every time they reset the scene, André finds some excuse to get close to you, whether it’s fixing your wardrobe, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, or even offering casual compliments about how well you’re doing. To anyone else, it might look like André is just being friendly, but Michael knows better.

There’s an intensity in his eyes when he looks at you—an intensity that Michael’s certain he’s aimed at you a hundred times before. It makes his blood boil.

At one point, when they’re setting up for another scene, André sidles up to Michael, standing just a little too close for comfort. “You’re doing so well today,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “I knew you were talented, but this… this is something else.”

Michael grits his teeth, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Thanks,” he mutters, not wanting to engage more than necessary.

André leans in slightly, lowering his voice even more. “You know, I’ve always admired your dedication. It’s… inspiring.” His face is so close to yours that Michael feels his warm breath against his neck.

Michael glances at him out of the corner of his eye, his jaw tightening. He wants to say something, wants to tell André to back off, to stop being so damn flirty, but he knows he can’t afford to blow up here. Not in front of the crew. So instead, he forces a tight smile and steps away, pretending to check something on his phone.

André watches him for a moment, that same charming smile still on his face, before finally walking off to talk to one of the crew members.

Michael exhales, his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take this. If André pulls something like that again, he’s not sure he’ll be able to hold back.

As the day drags on, Michael somehow manages to get through the rest of the scenes without any major disasters. He stumbles a few more times, forgetting small details you’d usually nail without thinking, but overall, he manages to hold his own. The crew seems satisfied, and even Quentin gives him a few nods of approval.

But throughout it all, Michael’s focus is split. Half of his mind is on the task at hand—delivering lines, hitting marks, staying in character—but the other half is constantly tuned in to André. Every time the other actor gets too close, every time he touches Michael or says something with that smooth, flirtatious tone, Michael feels his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

By the time Quentin finally calls a wrap on the day’s shoot, Michael is more than ready to get the hell out of there. As soon as he hears those magical words, “That’s a wrap!” He practically bolts for your dressing room, eager to escape André’s lingering presence.

He pulls out his phone, sending you a quick text: Coming home. 

He doesn’t wait for a reply before grabbing his things and heading for the car. Today has been exhausting in more ways than one, and all he wants to do is get back to the ranch, collapse into bed, and forget this whole bizarre day ever happened.

—

As you lounge on the plush couch in the living room you stretch your legs, sinking deeper into the luxurious cushions, savoring the calmness that comes with being home. Thank god he had a day off today. 

The door swings open gently, and Michael walks in. His steps are a little heavier than usual, his shoulders slightly hunched in that familiar way he gets when he’s both tired and annoyed.

You raise your eyebrow, sensing his mood before he even says a word. “How did it go?” you ask, your voice laced with curiosity and a bit of playful teasing.

Michael doesn’t respond immediately, just sighs deeply, making his way over to the couch. He collapses next to you, laying his head against your chest, burying his face in what is now his own body. You chuckle softly at the sight—it’s still bizarre seeing him in your body, his movements awkward and slightly off, but endearing all the same.

“I think I didn’t do too bad,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin. His arm drapes lazily over your waist, and you stroke his hair gently.

You nod, encouraging him to continue, but something tells you there’s more. His expression gives it away, the way his brows are furrowed and his jaw is tight. He’s holding something back.

And then, as expected, he brings up André.

You let out a soft breath, your lips twitching into a smirk. You knew this was coming. “What about him?” you ask casually, trying to hide your amusement as Michael continues his jealous rant.

“He just—ugh, he’s so obvious! He keeps finding reasons to get close to you. Like, during the scene, he had his hands all over me, and I’m pretty damn sure it wasn’t in the script!” Michael grumbles, his head still resting on your chest. “It’s like he doesn’t even care that you’re married. He’s got no respect.”

You can’t help it, you breathe out a chuckle, the corner of your mouth lifting as you watch him get more worked up. His jealousy is kind of adorable, and you’ve always known he’s been protective of you, but seeing him like this—seeing him experience it firsthand—is on another level.

Interrupting his tangent, you sigh, your voice soft but knowing. “I know,” you say.

Michael’s head jerks up suddenly, his eyes wide as he looks at you in shock. “Wait, what? You know?”

You nod, giving him a shrug. “Yeah, I’m not blind, Michael. I know he likes me. It’s pretty obvious.”

He stares at you, looking like he’s just had the rug pulled out from under him. “You knew? And you didn’t say anything?”

You smile, brushing your hand through his hair. “What was I supposed to say? It’s not like I pay him any mind.”

He sits up now, fully engaged in the conversation, eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t?” he asks, and you can hear the underlying tension in his voice.

You tilt your head, smirking a little. “Of course not. Yeah, he’s cute—” you can see the slight shock flash across Michael’s face at that admission, “—but he doesn’t compare to you.”

Michael’s expression softens slightly at that, his shoulders relaxing a little as the words sink in. For a second, his jealousy seems to ease, and you can see the corners of his lips twitch, though he tries to hide it.

“So, he’s cute now, huh?” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to his words anymore, just a little playful teasing.

You laugh softly, giving his arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry, doo doo head. He’s not the one I’m married to,” you say with a wink. And that seems to settle him down, his head leaning back against the couch as he sighs, though his eyes still flicker with traces of that protective spark.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you break it with a new topic. “By the way, I called Deepak.”

Michael glances at you, now intrigued. “Yeah? What did he say?”

“He’ll be here in an hour or two,” you explain, your tone casual. “Says he can help us figure this out and hopefully get us back into our own bodies.”

Michael nods, seeming relieved. “Good. This whole thing is starting to really mess with my head.”

You let out a small sigh, leaning back into the cushions, and the silence stretches for a moment. Then, feeling a sudden mischievous urge, you turn to him with a grin and ask, “So… you gonna let me fuck you?”

Michael’s eyes widen in pure shock, his mouth dropping open as he stares at you, clearly taken aback. “What? No!” he blurts out, his voice shooting up an octave.

You pout playfully, leaning closer to him. “Come on,” you tease, your voice lilting with amusement. “I wanna know how I looks when you fuck me.”

His face heats up, and he shakes his head vigorously, his body tensing at the mere suggestion. “No. Absolutely not.”

You let out a groan of disappointment, falling back against the couch dramatically. “You’re no fun,” you grumble, casting him a playful glance out of the corner of your eye.

Michael finally lets out a chuckle, the tension easing as he watches you with that familiar smile of his. “I can’t believe you even suggested that,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief, though his laughter betrays his amusement.

“What? It was just an idea!” you defend, giggling as you nudge him with your shoulder.

He rolls his eyes, but his smile remains, and the tension from the day seems to melt away, replaced by the familiar comfort of being with you, his wife, even if you’re in his body for now.

The clock ticks softly in the background as the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, waiting for Deepak to arrive, but for now, content to just be here, together, even if things are a little upside down.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @leociinta @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @sirusxx @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson @virgomjj @michaels-nonbinary-child @veavixen @elthoughtzos @kingayanna

[heeheesang]

𝐚𝐧 (𝐮𝐧)𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑’𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 .

꩜ .ᐟ jaehyun tries to win his girl best friend’s heart with the help from her brother . they came up with a plan ( of course ) , it includes three phases and jaehyun has to execute the phases well or he is done for .

꩜ .ᐟ warnings ! angst , car crash mentioned . i cried writing this , so if you’re crying … you”re not the only one >< fluff fluff fluff ! not proofread :3

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⋮ PHASE ONE .

jaehyun has been super distant with you lately . despite considering him your all—time—bestfriend and going out with him and your brother’s friend group , he tries to maintain space between the two of you . which made you super curious , why would he distance himself from you ?

it was simple , he was afraid of rejection . he recently confessed to your brother that he likes you , and the first advice he received was to stay away from you . the explanation ? han taesan said , and jaehyun quotes , “ if she likes you , she’ll keep pestering you about the distance . if she leaves you in silence then she doesn’t like you . “

so there he is , maintaining a distance with you . i mean , were you weirded out by it ? definitely . he used to be affectionate but now he’s like a ball of nonchalant-ness . if you get what i mean . but you only managed to keep your cool for three days before running after him once the school bells rang , yelling straight at him in his face . “ did i do something wrong ?! why are you ignoring me … “

that was all jaehyun needed to bring a smile back on his face , a confrontation from you to show him that you cared about him . he lets out a short chuckle , “ you didn’t do anything wrong , ynie … i just wanted to see your reaction . did you do something wrong ? “

you rolled your eyes and slapped his arm , “ i thought i did something to upset you , stupid ! made me so worried about you , gosh . “ he laughed at your response , offering to buy you lunch for a week . you refused his offer , mumbling something about him not habing enough money but was he really paying attention to your nagging ? no , he was staring deep into your eyes , thinking if he could actually swim in them .

“ are you even paying attention ? “ you snapped at him as he giggled , nodding as he dragged you by the arm to the cafeteria , meeting your brother and his friends . jaehyun sat right next to you as he gave your brother a look , ‘ taesan i did it . ‘ kind of look .

bringing him to phase two of their plan .

⋮ PHASE TWO .

“ jaehyun , did you get me these ? “ you questioned the man through the video call as his ears perked and his eyes shift from whatever he was doing to his phone , nodding shyly as he replied . “ as an apology , for ignoring you . “ you rolled your eyes playfully , thinking it was one of his tricks .

but what you didn’t expect was — him getting you small gifts everytime you hung out with him . heck even if it you were out with the other five boys , he’d pull you aside just so he could give you a small gift he brought with him to see you reaction . and maybe to get you to himself , even if it was for a minute .

“ i love the gifts , myungjae . but what’s the occassion ? it’s … different because you usually offer to pay for food and now you’re giving me gifts everytime we hang out ? it’s like you have a crush on me , myungjae ~ “ you teased him as his ears grew red and hot , feeling embarrassed and praying taesan would come to his rescue .

he wanted you to know he has a huge — the biggest crush on you . he felt like confessing straight to your face and prayed that you would accept his confession . he thinks there is a fifty fifty chance you would accept him because he’s getting mixed signals from you as well . the other fifty ? maybe the friendship was too precious to break .

“ oh my god , myungjae , look at these ! “ you would point out every time you saw something that resembled the both of you . in this case , a puppy and kitten keychain . he absolutely loved the reactions you had , the big smile that would reach your eyes and the little excited jumps you would do .

every time the two of you — or seven of you , hung out , he would always send you home . if you wanted to walk and enjoy the moment before heading home , he would be there right by your side . if you wanted to take the bus , he would prepare some songs in his playlist that described you perfectly — as if he doesn’t already , as you shared a wired earpiece together . if you wanted to take a cab , he would stay in that cab with you to make sure you were safe and walk himself home . if you wanted to take the motor bike with your brother , he would fasten your helmet tightly and called you immediately when you arrived home to ensure your safety once again .

he was shocked when he noticed how affectionate you were with him recently , passing him sweets with sweet notes — he wants to call them love letters — and getting physical with him . giving him hugs and interlocking your hands together as you strolled through the park nearby your house . he was about seventy percent sure you like him back , which led him to phase three , the final phase .

⋮ PHASE THREE .

phase three … the most crucial phase , according to taesan . he had to prepare his confession and confess to you before graduation which was in exactly five days . after sharing whatever he felt with you to taesan , taesan expects it to be a success if it was to be carried out well .

“ myungjae , who are you asking to prom ? “ you continuously asked him as he sighed , placing the tray of food on the table as the two joined their friends . “ i’m going alone , ynie … now , eat . “ jaehyun shot a glare to taesan who was trying to hold in his laughter . you stayed silent , munching on the pasta before announcing , “ if nobody asks me out to prom , i’ll ask riwoo out ! “ everyone at the table dropped their cutleries as they broke out into fits of laughter .

“ i’m sure someone will ask you out , you have to be patient , yn … “ riwoo said between laughs as everyone continued eating . that’s when jaehyun knew , he had to speed up the confessions process . and that meant , rushing home after school and planning it out on his notebook . he ignored your messages and lied saying his phone was taken away , smirking when you took the bait .

for the past three days , you’ve been going home with your brother and didn’t have time to even say goodbye to jaehyun as he sprints out of school . “ taesan , why is jaehyun so weird these days ? he’s running home … “ you would ask your brother but he shrugs it off , saying it’s probably an emergency at home . but did that make you feel any better ? hell no , why wouldn’t he tell you if he had emergencies at home , his parents were very much well acquainted with you by now , even treated you as their own daughter .

“ yn ! could you come over ? it’s an emergency ! “ taesan called you as you panicked and hurriedly left the house and ran towards the boys’ usual hang out crib . what emergency ? did something happen to jaehyun ? wait … why did you assume it was jaehyun ? well … surprise surprise , you like jaehyun . why else would you have written those letters filled with love and hold hands with him ..?

as soon as you arrived , you knocked and yelled out for taesan and jaehyun’s names but there wasn’t any response . you unlocked the door with the spare key under the mat and entered the house in a messy state , you were in your pajamas with hair messy from running in the strong wind and your phone barely charged . what caught you offguard was a walkway of lilies leading to their dim litted living room .

you walked towards the front and turned on the light after fidgeting with a bunch of light switches . you almost fell in shock when all five boys stood infront of you , in a blouse along with some black trousers . you let out an awkward chuckle , “ what’s happening haha … is this a prank ? “

the moment you said that , jaehyun appeared in between taesan and riwoo , in a black suit and tie with flowers in his hand . suddenly , a background music was heard as jaehyun sang along , using the bouquet of flowers as a microphone . you were — shocked ? excited ? you weren’t exactly sure because you were still overwhelmed by the whole situation …

“ i’d get along with your dad , for you ~ “ he ended as he bowed like a prince and held the bouquet right in front of your face . your eyes widened in shock when everything registered in your head , did he just do a whole serenade for you ? in front of your brother snd shared friends ?! if you could see yourself right now , you were as red as a tomato . maybe even worse …

“ you … like me ? “ you asked as he stood up and straightened his back , running a hand through his hair awkwardly as he nodded . “ for a while actually … like , three months ? “ the moment those words left his mouth , your jaw dropped . three months and he’s already mustered the courage to do this ..? that’s myung jaehyun for you …

“ so … would you like to be my date for prom and have a date after that ? “ jaehyun asks as you smiled softly , taking the flowers from his hands as you nodded , “ i would gladly , go to prom and go on a date with you myungjae . “

you could still remember how happy he was . he jumped for joy , hugging each and every one of his friends as he reached you . lifting you in the air as he joked , “ now you don’t have to go with riwoo ! “

⋮ UNHAPPY ACCIDENTS .

“ today was fun , jaehyun ~ “ you complimented as you entered his car . it’s been a year since the both of you dated and he finally had a car . he was excited to bring you around in his car , especially since you were going to be his passenger princess .

he smiled in excitement , starting the car as he slowly got on the road . the drive was soothing and calm at first , until the both of you were suddenly crashed into a truck filled with gasoline . the next thing you knew , you woke up in the hospital with the five surrounding you .

“ where’s … where’s jaehyun … “ was the first thing you asked after waking up from a week coma . you sat up and straightened your body , taesan immediately hugging you tightly as he cried loudly . you were confused , what happened ? why was everyone crying ? why did you have burns on your body ?

and that’s when it hit you . you pushed taesan off as you stood up shakily , walking around the room to find jaehyun but to no avail . there was no way , right ..? you ran over to taesan and grabbed his arm tightly , “ jaehyun … where did he … go ? “ he couldn’t answer you at all . he turned to leehan who was also crying .

“ yn … i need you to sit down for this . “ riwoo said as calmly as he could despite the tears flowing from his eyes . tears were already pooling at the brim of your eyes , you could’ve sorta expected the outcome from this , but were you ready to accept it ? no , no you weren’t .

“ jaehyun … he didn’t make it yn . the policemen and doctors at scene said he was hugging you before you both rolled out of the car . he was … they tried to resuscitate him but it failed , horribly . he had no pulse and wasn’t breathing anymore … they didn’t expect you to make it as well , but you showed a single pulse . jaehyun really was … he was hopeless . they couldn’t detect anything from him .“ riwoo explained as you broke down , he hugged you before he lost his own life .

the moment you were discharged , the boys took you to his grave . you couldn’t help but break down yet again for the nth time this week . he was and still is your everything . he sacrificied himself to save you . the boys stood behind you as you wailed on his grave , “ why … why myungjae … it should’ve been me , you shouldn’t be there now ! fuck … i miss you . if you can hear me , i miss and love you a lot . you were an angel sent to me , and i’ll always remember you , myung jaehyun . i love you , always and forever . “

you reached into your pocket , pulling out the puppy and kitten matching keychains and placed one on his grave . you were probably seeing things but you could see him standing from afar , waving as he smiled at you . he was glowing , a white robe set on him as what seemed like a halo was hanging above his head . you broke out into tears at the thought of seeing him for the last time , smiling and waving back as with a single blink , he disappeared .

i love you forever and always , myung jaehyun . i’ll see you soon .

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꩜ .ᐟ permanent taglist — @hooneverse @sol3chu @yourssincerely-mimi @reikaxslvr @petralovesbonedo @enhabooks @mwahvvis @jaerisdiction @rairaiblog @jeonginontopforever @miukidoll

[sluttysanemi]

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

If genya attempted to plait your hair, the results would be slightly imprecise, but still presentable.

sanemi has more refined hands and would produce a more neat result, conceivably with the addition of a thin ribbon- if you so wished.

[fandomnerd9602]

Just the idea of Peter having Male Reader as the friend who acts gay but isn't gay and being frenemies with MJ

After patching up Peter

Ned: So we're going to head out now okay

Peter: Sure

Male Reader: Ok get well soon buddy *gives Peter a forehead kiss*

MJ: We'll see you tomorrow *Kisses Peter*

Male Reader: Wow really flexing your girlfriend privileges

MJ: Shut up your just jealous

Peter: Guys please not know I'm in pain

MJ: you’re totally gay for Peter!

Y/N: I am not!

Ned: when did this start?

Y/N: it all started when I held Peter’s hand during the movies hang out. MJ wouldn’t hold his hand so I did

MJ: I was holding my soda!

Y/N: your boyfriend needs his hand held during the movie and I stepped up. That’s called true friendship-relationship

Ned: a Bro-ship!

Y/N: thanks Ned

[plumppies]

Midnight at Club 30

 Michael Jackson

Synopsis: Your loving husband is not as honest as he claims to be. Tonight, you find out exactly what he's been hiding.

Pairing: Mafia boss!Michael Jackson x fem!Reader

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: Some sweating. Michael is nonchalant here ewww

Drea's note: I had so much fun writing this! Constructive criticism and suggestion are welcome in my inbox. Thank you for the request, babe. <3

March 1st, 1932

22:00

You take a deep breath in as you examine your surroundings. You can’t believe you’re going on a date with a man your friend, Aubrey, set you up with.

It had been a long time since your separation from your long-time boyfriend. The split was painful. You remember it every so often; sometimes the emotions of the split build up at random times of your day, leaving you teary and shaking with sadness. He promised you the world. Maybe that was the first sign of his infidelity. No man promises a woman the world three months into a relationship. It was all bull from the beginning, but could you have known? You were in your late teens, naive and lovestruck. You couldn’t have known.

Now, here you are, in front of Club 30, in a shimmery black dress, draped with a white fur shawl and sleek golden heels. Your hair is beautifully done in a top bun with a few loose curls draped behind your ears. You fiddle with one of the multiple rings you have on, contemplating whether you should go in. You take in one final breath before pushing open the heavy oak doors, ready for whatever the late night has in store for you.

The bass of the jazz band rumbles through the smokey air as you walk in. You notice a large crowd on the dance floor. Their bodies rock from side to side to the rhythm of the 4-count music. To the left are several tables designed for an assembly of friends. The booths are decorated in a simple brown leather with each table covered with wine-red cloths designed to give you an intimate feel as friends conversation.

There are 4 young men there right now. Their head all turned to you. You give them a small smile which excites them butyou ignore it and look to your right. That way is the bar. That’s where you’re expected. You clear your throat and slowly walk to the bar before taking a seat on one of the many high barstools. The array of alcohol beautifully decorates the large wall before you. From wine to whiskey, it’s all gracefully shelved, disguising the liquid poison as something beautiful.

“Can I get you something to drink?” The bartender interrupts your thoughts. His smile was genuine and calm, indicating his expertise in customer service.

You return the smile, your red lipstick morphing into a gracious grin as you speak. “I’m not too sure what to order. Any suggestions?”

“Of course, ma’am. Do you have a taste for a sweet or bitter drink?” He leans on the counter, clearly taken aback by your allure.

“Sweet, please.”

“I would suggest a lemonade or strawberry daiquiri.” He looks you up and down with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Strawberry, please.” You giggle, rolling your eyes as he nods before turning around to prepare your drink.

While the bartender works on your beverage, you fix your gaze on the large clock. 22:10. Aubrey had said your date would be by the bar by 22:00 but he’s not here yet. You decide to shrug it off and wait a little longer.

“Here you are, ma’am. A strawberry daiquiri.” He carefully slides the drink your way with a wink.

You take a long sip through the paper straw. The sweetness of the strawberry fizz compliments the thick rum. You’re quiteimpressed by the taste. Having never drank this before, your tongue enjoys every drop of it, and soon enough, you’re asking for another one.

22:30.

You huff.

“Are you expecting someone?” The bartender inquires, sliding you your second daiquiri.

“Yes, I am, but I’m afraid I’ve been stood up.” You take a sip of your drink with a frown.

“That happens here quite a lot, unfortunately,” he starts, “Just a few hours ago, an older lady sat here with me and waited for her date to arrive. Alas, he never did.”

You sigh and nod. Maybe the same fate had met you.

“Don’t fret. I’m sure he would have been a waste of time anyway.” He grins, tapping his fingers on the marble counter.

You nod again, accepting your circumstances. Instead of moping about your current fate, you turn to face the band across the bar. They play a more upbeat tune now. Something that has the dance floor cheering and whistling. The sight lifts your mood. Your head begins to rock to the rhythm.

“You should join the crowd, let loose!” The bartender encourages you.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” you lean back to turn the suggestion down.

“Oh come on, ma’am. I’m sure you’re great at it. Plus, why come to Club 30 if not to dance? This is the place to dance, and I know*-”*

The bartender’s words are cut off as he notices the large oak doors open again. The thick, smokey air in the club shifts, as if it’s being controlled by something greater than it; something that makes the jazz band mess up rhythmic jam.

“Oh no. Tonight of all nights?” He whispers behind you and you fix your gaze towards the two large men who you assume are bodyguards.

Before you can respond, another man walks in. He’s dressed differently from the black-suited large men behind him. You glance at his white tailored suit. The expensive fabric hugs his slim figure perfectly, accentuating his toned arms and legs. Beneath his white suit jacket is a soft pastel blue shirt sleekly complimented by a white tie. His hair, curly, thick, and longis topped off with a white fedora. His presence has undoubtedly changed the club’s mood. What you cannot decipher is if this shift is a good or bad one. What you do know, however, is that his arrival has garnered the attention of everyone in the club.

As swiftly as he arrived, his bodyguards escorted him to the far corner of the club. He sits between them as if he is royalty of some sort. He examines the room, seated in the perfect place to see every corner of the club; to see you.

You hadn’t noticed that you were staring at him the entire time he had sat there until he finally fixed his gaze on you. With a nervous smile, you wave at him. He tilts his head, but before he can do anything else, his table is surrounded by a cluster of girls ready to throw themselves at him.

“I wouldn't if I were you. That man is trouble.”

You turn to face the bartender whose face is painted with concern.

“Why’s that?” You smile inquisitively.

“He’s known for doing shady business around these parts of Chicago. Rumour has it that he’s taken a life just outside the club, in the back ally”

You scoff.

“I doubt that's true. If it was, we’d see news of a death on the papers, no?”

Before the bartender could answer, one of the large men from the corner table tapped you on your shoulder.

“Excuse me, ma’am. My boss would like to speak with you.” The large man speaks with an even tone.

You look at the bartender who shakes his head in disagreement with the request, but you; not having anything better to do here; smile and stand up to follow the black-suited man.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” You reassure the bartender before you walk to the designated table.

A dozen eyes watch you as you make it to the alluring man. The girls that once squealed with excitement at his arrival now fix their eyes on you with bitter jealousy. That doesn't stop the white-suited man from motioning you to sit beside him. You slowly scoot your way onto the leather seat, sitting just a few inches away from him.

“Leave us.” He commands, and as if they’re filled with fear, the two bodyguards make their way to the dance floor. The girls, on the other hand, linger.

“All of you. Now.” His voice is stern now, his piercing gaze scaring the girls away with those simple words.

Now, you’re left alone with him. With nobody around, his scent floods your nostrils. A deep sage with a mix of vanilla surrounds him. What an intoxicating scent, one you could inhale for aeons.

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing here all alone at this hour?” He asks.

His voice is surprisingly softer than the tough visual that he is. He shifts closer to you, closing the gap you had left before looking you dead in the eyes. His deep brown eyes glisten in the mellow lighting of the club. Something is confusing about those eyes. They appear so innocent, but something in them hints at a darker reality.

“I- I had a date tonight,” you fidget with your rings, “regrettably, he never showed.”

He takes a slow sip of his drink, which you’ll come to learn is whiskey. His gaze never leaves yours as he drinks.

“What a foolish man he is to leave a woman hanging like that, especially a woman of your…stature.”

You giggle. He loves that. The sound of your giggle eggs him on.

“My stature?” You probe and he nods.

“An enchanting woman like you shouldn’t be treated so poorly.”

You’re taken aback by his words. Looking away from him you fiddle with your rings. He notices this and gently places his hand on yours. You look at. It’s much larger than yours with veins travelling to and fro. You look up surprised and are greeted by a soft grin.

“The name’s Michael. Michael Jackson. Yours?”

Without a second to waste you tell him yours. His smile brightens at your response, a few crinkles surround his eyes as he smiles.

“It’s very nice to meet you, darlin'.” Michael whispers into your ear in a sultry tone, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“Now, tell me. What nonsense was our little bartender telling you about me, hmm?” He leans back into the leather seat.

“That you’re trouble.” You shrug bluntly, tapping your slim fingers on the table before you.

“Oh really?” He motions for his bodyguard, “What kind of trouble did he say I am?

Before you answer, he whispers something to his bodyguard before shooing him away. You watch the large man walk to the bar.

“That you’ve done some shady business here and even…”

“Even what, darling?” He coos.

The bodyguard returns to you and places a strawberry daiquiri in on the tabl before turning and leaving for the dance floor once again.

“Thank you.” “You smile and take a sip. “He said you’d killed someone in behind this very building.

Your words provoke a loud chuckle from him. His head tilts backwards as he laughs, exposing his Adam's apple.

“As you can see, Louis over there has quite the imagination.” He clears his throat and drops his expression into something more serious. “Don’t believe everything you hear about me around these parts. People love to gossip about my occupation. They know nothing of what they speak of.”

You sigh a sigh of relief and drink the last of your beverage, continuing the conversation. He remains calm and collected, only sharing enough to keep you intrigued, but not sufficient to satisfy your curiosity.

September 14th 1935

Three years into your relationship you’ve come to learn that Michael would always be that way. Not even the fact that you’re his wife could change that. Anytime you ask about his work, he’ll give you a short answer. Nothing too specific, just enough to reassure you that he’ll be safe on the next business trip he’d be heading to. Lately, things have changed. Your husband had no longer told you where he was headed. He’d simply leave a note alluding to where he’d be and what he’d be dealing with.

To say you were annoyed by his behaviour is an understatement. You spent the past 3 months with your housemaids. They knew the ins and outs of your new grand home, the home you moved into with Michael when he married you two and half years ago. You grew friendly to them in the early stages of your marriage which you thank yourself for doing because you can ask them what exactly your husband gets up to while you’re asleep or away with friends and family.

“Two weeks ago, he had three men here. They were all dressed in expensive-looking suits, and we were all ordered to serve them with whatever they pleased,” said Diane with an admitting tone.

“And a month before that, he had a woman here,” Claire adds, “but worry not. He did not lead her to your bedroom or anything of that sort.”

You listen to them intently, your fists clenching and relaxing as they tell you just how much Michael has been hiding from you.

“Do you know where he’ll be later tonight? You two are the eyes and ears of this house. I’m sure you heard word of his night excursion.” You look at them both.

“Yes. Of course!” Diane speaks. “I overheard him talk to his chauffeur, Bill, about being at Club 30 tonight at 11 pm for some business.”

“Perfect. Once he leaves for that, be sure to have a car for me to follow him there.”

Diane and Claire nod and disburse as your so-called honest husband makes his way to the kitchen where you’re situated.

“Good day, darling.” Michael coos, placing a soft and long kiss on your lips. “What were you all discussing just now?”

You kiss him back and hum, knowing not to tell him the truth. “We were planning for our housewarming party tomorrow.

“Ah, I see,” he sits beside you, placing his large hand on the small of your back, “I’ll make sure to get all the alcohol needed tonight, okay?”

You nod and cup his face with your warm hands, “Thank you, my love. You’re a lifesaver.”

He smiles, rubbing your back slowly before turning his attention to the newspaper. You notice his jaw clench as he reads the front cover, so you turn to the newspaper.

“Two Bodies Found at The Docking Pier Near Club 30”

“Oh my,” you gasp, catching Michael’s attention, “Poor souls.”

“It’s shocking indeed, darling,” he says not because he means it but because he has to in order not to alarm you. You can tell he knows more about these deaths than he’s saying so you probe.

“When did they find them?”

“The morning of September 9th.” He answers as he continues to read.

“Were you not there the night before?” you lean closer to him.

“What Are you sayin’?” He slowly turns towards you.

You huff and look him dead in his eyes. ”Surely you would have seen something.”

Michael’s Gaze hardens and his hand clutches the newspaper tightly. It’s not the first time you’ve angered him this way. There have been times when you asked him about his whereabouts, noticing how they always seemed to correlate with the discovery of a dead body. This time, however, you prob further. Gone are the days when you simply say “Okay fine” and let it go. Today, You want to know as much as he’ll tell you, even if it means he’ll be infuriated by your unwavering questioning.

“Darlin’…” He takes a deep breath to calm himself. “Why would I know a thing about this.” He asks irritated, shaking the paper firmly.

“Because you were they the night before, no?” He nods. “And the paper says there was a quarrel around the same you when there for a drink.”

You observe his increasing anger, his breath getting deeper as he attempts to keep himself from raising his voice at you. One thing is for sure; he has something to hide, but he won’t dare yell at you. He knows better than to treat his woman with such fury. He would rather die than create room in your heart for you to fear him. If he did that, he would have failed as a husband, as a man, but God, were you pissing him off right now.

“Darlin’, I do not witness the fights that break out at the club. I’m gone by then.” He speaks bluntly.

“So why’d you come home so late that night?”

“Listen,” He snaps but quickly lowers his voice, “what I do in my spare time is not your concern. All you need to worry about is the goings-on of our home and yourself. Is that clear, Darlin’?”

His tone is stern as if to discipline you like a child. He’s never used such a tone while addressing you. You knew now that he was not telling you the complete story.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to get ready for work.” That's the last thing he said to you that day before he disappeared out of the large wooden doors of your home to do God knows what.

19:00

Michael had arrived back from work an hour prior. He did not spend much time with you that evening, and soon, he was out the door. The only thing he said was that he’d be back with the alcohol for tomorrow’s housewarming. Why were you having a housewarming two years into moving here? You didn’t know, but that's not important. What's important is to figure out exactly what he has planned for the night.

23:17

“Mrs Jackson, the car is ready for you,” Diane whispers and you nod.

“Thank you, Diane. You and Claire be sure to take the day off tomorrow. We’ll have other servers here in your place.” Diane nods hastily at your words before she and Claire disappear into the servants’ quarters.

23:45

You thank the driver before stepping out of the car. Here you are, in front of Club 30 once again. It had been months since you were here, having feared that you’d meet the same fate as those two young men who were found dead this morning. That fear is now replaced with pent-up rage from your husband's lies. You were done with the secrets. Tonight, you’ll find out the truth, and nothing will stop you from completing that mission.

You walk into the ally and sneak your way into the club through the back door.

“Thank you, Louis. You’re a gem.” You give the bartender a soft kiss on the cheek as he helps you through the club’s kitchen.

“He’s here already. Two men came in shortly after him,” he blushed at the kiss, “Then two other men followed. They’re all seated together in his booth.”

You nod with a frown. “Do you know what they’re up to?”

“No, ma’am. They’ve had the jazz band playing to cover up their conversations, but the band will retire for the night soon.”

You follow him to the club’s end of the kitchen. To your surprise, the band has already left, leaving the five men, including Michael, to their own devices. Their conversation is clear as day. Both you and Louis lean on the door to listen in.

23:50

“How did they find the bodies?” Michael asks, his tone cold.

“We don’t know, boss. Don said he’d take care of it but-” One of the men tries to defend themself but is cut by the other.

“I never said I’d take care of anything!” You assume that is Don talking.

“Boss told you too! You always mess up the simplest jobs.”

“Enough!” You hear Michael shout as he delivers a loud bang to the table. “I will not tolerate such childish behaviour from anyone tonight. You all need to shut up and listen.”

A shiver runs down your back at his commanding voice. His soft-spoken nature seems to have shifted into something darker, something you didn’t recognise. Was this your husband? Of course, it was, but this was a side of him you were not acquainted with.

“But first. I must deal with something,” Michael begins, “Louis, bring her here.”

You dart your eyes to Louis, whose hand has already grasped yours, pulling you out of the kitchen and into the club's main room. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as Michael stands before you, his curls messy and suit well-kept. He clicks his tongue and circles you slowly, shooing Louis away with a knowing nod.

“Now, what do we have here?” Michael speaks with a disappointed tone.

You’re frozen in place. The shock of Louis having sold you out fogged your mind. All you can do is dart your eyes as he continues the torturous dance around you. At that moment, you feel small. Like a rabbit waiting for the cheetah before it to pounce. 

“I- I can explain-”

Michael chuckles. “What happened to all that spunk you had interrogating me this morning, Darlin’? Was it all a front?”

You have no choice but to look down abashedly. You’ve been caught, your plans ruined by someone you thought you could trust. Oh, once you get out of here, you’ll be ripping Louis a new one.

“Come. Sit.” Michael grabs your arm and leads you to the booth. You fall onto the leather seat and face the four men who sit across from you and Michael on hard wooden stools.

“Explain yourself, darlin’.” He commands.

The anger you’ve bottled up finally spills over as you begin: “Explain myself? You have a lot of nerve to say such a thing! How dare you lie to me about your life to this degree? Shame on you! Shame on all of you in this room right now!”

You’re seething with anger, your hands clench tight around nothing, your jaw tight, and your brows furrowed. Your eyes roam your surroundings. The four men facing you don’t react to your words. One, however, smiles contently.

“I never knew your wife could yell like that, Boss.” Don smiles.

“Neither did I,” Michael admits, “You’re full of surprises, young lady.”

“And you’re full of shit!” You spit at Michael, provoking a twitch of disapproval across his face.

“Watch yourself.” He lifts a finger, reprimanding your outburst. “I know you want answers, but I will not accept such foul language, darlin’. Understand?”

You shake your head, cross your arms and look anywhere but him or his lackeys. “Speak.”

Michael chuckles at your attempt to be tough. “Oh, you’re too cute, my love,” he says as he sits beside you, “As you wish. What would you like to know?”

“Who are these men?” You start with a simple question.

“These are Tony, Don, Trevor, and Allen. They’re my cleaners, my boys.” He sips his whiskey.

“Cleaners? Meaning what?” You raise a brow at them and they all bow their heads in acknowledgement.

“What an innocent mind you have” He coos. “They clean up after me. You know, after I deal with someone.”

“What?” You raise your voice.

“We get rid of anyone he kills, Mrs Jackson. That’s our job, but someone didn’t do it right on Friday.” Tony hits Don on the heads

Michael shifts in the seat and shakes his head. “You are all so childish.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Your husband, the man you love is a killer. A cold-blooded killer. How did he never show any sign of this sick side to him?

“Michael, you’re a killer?” You look at him with your cheeks red.

“Darlin’, it’s much more complicated than that-”

“Then explain yourself” You snap.

Michael sighs before nodding. He stands up, holding his hand out for you to take it, but you don't. Instead, you stand and follow him to the balcony on the second floor.

00:00

The hustle and bustle of Chicago has slowed down significantly at this hour. As you and Michael stand outside, you hear a dog bark from afar and a car rumble through the empty road. This calm view of the city lights does little to nothing to ease your stress. It seems as though nothing he has to say with change how you feel in the moment.

“Listen, I know what you’ve heard is concerning to you, but I must assure you, my love, that You have nothing to worry about.”

“Is that so?” You huff. “How am I supposed to do that when you’re running the streets killing people?”

Michael lifts his finger to hush you. The last thing he needs is to have the patrolling police listening to your heated conversation.

“It’s not that simple, my love.”

“Simplify it for me,” You cross your arms.

“You won’t believe me, but alas, I’ll explain.” He leans onto the rails, lighting a cigar before taking a long breath of the smoky substance.

“Remember when I told you about my upbringing? My family always had to move from state to state.” you nod. “Well, that was because my father was involved in criminal activity. But you know that part.”

You remember Michael telling you about how his father was killed in prison by a gang he worked in opposition with.

“Go on,” you command.

“When my father died, my older brothers wanted nothing to do with the life my father led, so I took over as boss.” Michael wraps his lips around the cigar, sucking on it as it fills his lungs with the smoky air. He puffs rings of smoke out as he watches for your reaction.

“You're some kind of mafia boss? here, in Chicago?” You cough as the aftersmoke hits your throat.

All Michael can do is nod. His eyes stay fixed on you as you take in everything you’ve heard. 

How long was he going to hide this? What would he have done if you were in trouble? What did he expect you to do if he got arrested or hurt?

“I would never let myself get hurt, let alone put you in any form of danger, darlin’. I swear.” He reassures you with one hand on your face and the other holding the burning cigar

“You’ve already endangered me by not telling me this from the beginning.” Your voice cracks.

“How could I tell a stranger that I’m a criminal?” He runs his fingers through his curls.

“You’re calling your wife a stranger? Jee, Michael. I never knew you were this cruel.” Your head shakes as tears roll down your cheeks.

“Darlin’…I meant no harm. believe me.” Michael wipes a tear from your eye which does nothing to soothe your sorrow.

“I cannot do this right now.” You turn away from him.

“My love…” his voice falls small.

“You’ve lied to me for three years, Michael. Three years.” You sigh and take a step away from him. “I cannot bear to look at you without feeling betrayed. I cannot be around you right now.”

You walk away, leaving him on the balcony with a cigar in his hand and a tear threatening to fall from his beautiful brown eyes.

00:38

As you hastily pack an overnight bag, you look at your shared bed with teary eyes. The thought of you sharing a be with a killer haunts your mind and breaks your heart. You had to get away from here, from him.

Right now, nothing could stop you from seeing him as a monster, and that hurt to admit.

You married a criminal. You married a killer.

March 1st, 1932

22:00

You take a deep breath in as you examine your surroundings. You can’t believe you’re going to do this, going on a date with a man your friend, Aubrey, set you up with.

It had been a long time since your separation from your long-time boyfriend. The split was painful. You remember it every so often; the emotions of that day build up at random times of your day, leaving you teary and shaking with sadness. He promised you the world. Maybe that was the first sign of his infidelity. No man promises a woman the world three months into a relationship. It was all bull from the beginning, but could you have known? You were in your late teens, naive and lovestruck. You couldn’t have known.

Now, here you are, in front of Club 30, in a silky red dress and sleek golden heels. Your hair is done beautifully in a top bun with a few loose curls draped behind your ears. You fiddle with one of the multiple rings you have on, contemplating whether or not you should go in. You take in one final breath before pushing open the heavy oak doors, ready for whatever the late night has in store for you.

The bass of the jazz band rumbles through the smoky air as you walk in. You notice a large crowd on the dance floor. Their bodies rock from side to side to the rhythm of the 4-count music. To the left are tables designed for an assembly of friends. The booths are decorated in a simple brown leather, with each table covered with wine-red cloths designed to give you an intimate feel as friends converse.

There are five young men there right now. Their heads all turned to you. You give them a small smile, which excites them, but you ignore it and look to your right. That way is the bar. That’s where you’re expected. You clear your throat and slowly walk to the bar before taking a seat on one of the many high barstools. The array of alcohol beautifully decorates the large wall before you. From wine to whisky, it’s all gracefully shelved in a way that makes you forget that all those liquids are poison.

“Can I get you something to drink?” The bartender interrupts your thoughts. His smile is genuine and calm, indicating his expertise in customer service.

You return the smile. Your red lipstick morphs into a beautiful grin as you speak. “I’m not too sure what to order. Any suggestions?”

“Of course, ma’am. Do you have a taste for a sweet or bitter drink?” He leans on the counter, clearly taken aback by your allure.

“Sweet, please.”

“I would suggest a lemonade or strawberry daiquiri.” He looks you up and down with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Strawberry, please.” You giggle and roll your eyes, and he nods before turning around to prepare your drink.

While the bartender works on your beverage, you fix your gaze on the large clock. 22:10. Aubrey had said your date would be by the bar by 22:00, but he’s not here yet. You decide to shrug it off and wait a little longer.

“Here you are, ma’am. A strawberry daiquiri.” He carefully slides the drink your way with a wink.

You take a long sip through the paper straw. The sweetness of the strawberry fizz is complemented by the thick rum.You’re impressed by the taste. Having never drunk this before, your tongue enjoys every drop of it, and soon enough, you’re asking for another one.

22:30.

You huff.

“Are you expecting someone?” The bartender enquires, sliding you your second daiquiri.

“Yes. I am, but I’m afraid I’ve been stood up.” You take a sip of your drink with a frown.

“That happens here quite a lot, unfortunately,” he starts, “Just a few hours ago, an older lady sat here with me and waited for her date to arrive. Alas, he never did.”

You sigh and nod. Maybe the same fate had met you.

“Don’t fret. I’m sure he would have been a waste of time anyway.” He grins, tapping his fingers on the marble counter.

You nod again, accepting your circumstances. Instead of moping about your current fate, you turn to face the band across the bar. They play a more upbeat tune now. Something that has the dance floor cheering and whistling with joy. The sight lifts your mood. Your head begins to rock to the rhythm.

“You should join the crowd, let loose,” The bartender encourages you.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” you lean back to turn the suggestion down.

“Oh, come on, ma’am. I’m sure you’re great at it. Plus, why come to Club 30 if not to dance? This is the place to dance, and I know—”

The bartender’s words are cut off as he notices the large oak doors open. The thick, smoky air in the club shifts, as if it’s being controlled by something—something that makes the jazz band mess up rhythmic jam.

“Oh no. Tonight of all nights?” He whispers behind you, and you fix your gaze on the two large men who you assume are bodyguards.

Before you can respond, another man walks in. He’s dressed differently from the large, black-suited men behind him. You glance at his white tailored suit. The expensive fabric hugs his slim figure perfectly, accentuating his toned arms and legs. Beneath his white suit jacket is a soft pastel blue shirt sleekly complemented by a white tie. His black curls upon his head are topped off with a simple white fedora. His presence has undoubtedly changed the mood of the club. What you cannot decipher is if the shift is a good or bad one. What you do know, however, is that his arrival has garnered the attention of everyone in the club.

As swiftly as he arrived, his bodyguards escorted him to the far corner of the club. He sits between them as if he’s royalty of some sort. He examines the room; he’s seated in the perfect place to see every corner of the club, to see you.

You hadn’t noticed that you were staring at him the entire time he had sat there until he finally fixed his gaze on you. With a nervous smile, you wave at him. He tilts his head, but before he can do anything else, his table is surrounded by a cluster of girls ready to throw themselves at him.

“I wouldn't if I were you. That man is trouble.”

You turn to face the bartender, whose face shows concern.

“Why’s that?” You smile inquisitively.

“He’s known for doing shady business around these parts. Rumour has it that he’s taken a life just outside the club, in the back alley.”

You scoff.

“I doubt that's true. If it were, we’d see news of a death in the papers, no?”

Before the bartender could answer, one of the large men at the corner table tapped you on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, ma’am. My boss would like to speak with you.” The large man speaks with an even tone.

You look at the bartender, who shakes his head in disagreement with the request, but you, not having anything better to do here, smile and stand up to follow the black-suited man.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” You reassure the bartender before you walk to the designated table.

A dozen eyes watch you as you make it to the alluring man. The girls that once squealed with excitement at his arrival now fix their eyes on you with bitter jealousy. That doesn't stop the white-suited man from motioning you to sit beside him. You slowly scoot your way onto the leather seat, sitting just a few inches away from him.

“Leave us.” He commands, and as if they’re filled with fear, the two bodyguards make their way to the dance floor. The girls, on the other hand, linger.

“All of you. Now.” His voice is stern now, his piercing gaze scaring the girls away with those simple words.

Now, you’re left alone with him. Without others around, his scent floods your nostrils. A deep sage with a mix of vanilla scent surrounds him. What an intoxicating scent, one you could inhale for aeons.

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing here all alone at this hour?” He asks.

His voice is surprisingly softer than the tough visual that he is. He shifts closer to you, closing the gap you had left before looking you dead in the eyes. His deep brown eyes glisten in the mellow lighting of the club. Something is confusing about those eyes. They appear so innocent, but something in them hints at a darker reality.

“I had a date tonight,” you fidget with your rings, “regrettably, he never showed.”

He takes a slow sip of his drink, which you’ll come to learn is whisky. His gaze never leaves yours as he drinks.

“What a foolish man he is to leave a woman hanging like that, especially a woman of your…stature.”

You giggle. The sound of your giggle eggs him on. “My stature?” You probe, and he nods.

“An enchanting woman like you shouldn’t be treated so poorly.”

You’re taken aback by his words. Looking away from him, you fiddle with your rings. He notices this and gently places his hand on yours. You look at. It’s larger than yours, with veins travelling to and fro. You look up surprised and he shoots you a soft grin.

“The name’s Michael. Michael Jackson. Yours?”

Without a second to waste, you tell him yours. His smile brightens at your response; a few crinkles surround his eyes as he smiles.

“It’s very nice to meet you, darlin',” Michael whispers into your ear in a sultry tone that causes a shiver to run down your spine.

“Now, tell me. What nonsense was our little bartender telling you about me, hmm?” He leans back into the leather seat.

“That you’re trouble.” You shrug bluntly, tapping your slim fingers on the table before you.

“Oh really?” He motions for his bodyguard, “What kind of trouble did he say I am?

Before you answer, he whispers something to his bodyguard before shooing him away. You watch the large man stand at the bar, and the bartender fixes up a drink.

“That you’ve done some shady business here and even…”

“Even what, darling?” He coos.

The bodyguard makes his way back to you and places a strawberry daiquiri in front of you before turning and leaving for the dance floor once again.

“Thank you.” “You smile and take a sip. “He said you’d killed someone behind this very building.

Your words provoke a loud chuckle from him. His head tilts back as he laughs, exposing his Adam's apple.

“As you can see, Louis over there has quite the imagination.” He clears his throat and drops his expression into something more serious. “Don’t believe everything you hear about me around these parts. People love to gossip about my occupation. They know nothing of what they speak of.”

You sigh a sigh of relief and drink the last of your beverage, continuing, the conversation with Michael. He remains calm and collected, only sharing enough to keep you wondering.

14 September 1935

Three years into your relationship, you’ve come to learn that Michael would always be that way. Not even the fact that you’re his now could change. Anytime you ask about his work, he’ll give you a short answer. Nothing too specific, just enough to reassure you that he’ll be safe on the next business trip he’ll be heading to. Lately, things have changed. Your husband had no longer told you where he was headed. He’d simply leave a note alluding to where he’d be and what he’d be dealing with.

To say you were annoyed by his behaviour is an understatement. You spent the past 3 months with your housemaids. They knew the ins and outs of your new grand home, the home you moved into with Michael when he married you two and a half years ago. You grew friendly with them in the early stages of your marriage, which you now thank yourself for doing because you can now ask them what exactly your husband gets up to while you’re asleep or away with friends and family.

“Two weeks ago, he had three men here. They were all dressed in expensive-looking suits, and we were all ordered to serve them with whatever they pleased,” said Diane with an admitting tone.

“And a month before that, he had a woman here,” Claire adds, “but worry not. He did not lead her to your bedroom or anything of that sort.”

You listen to them intently, your fists clenching and relaxing as they tell you just how much Michael has been hiding from you.

“Do you know where he’ll be later tonight? You two are the eyes and ears of this house. I’m sure you heard word of his night excursion.” You look at them both.

“Yes. Of course!” Diane speaks. “I overheard him talk to his chauffeur, Bill, about being at Club 30 tonight at 11 pm for some business.”

“Perfect. Once he leaves for that, be sure to have a car for me to follow him there, please.”

Diane and Claire nod at your plan and disperse as your so-called honest husband makes his way to the kitchen where you’re situated.

“Good day, darling.” Michael coos, placing a soft and long kiss on your lips. “What were you all discussing just now?”

You kiss him back and hum, knowing not to tell him the truth. “We were planning for the housewarming party you and I are hosting tomorrow.

“Ah, I see,” he sits beside you, placing his large hand on the small of your back, “I’ll make sure to get all the alcohol needed tonight, okay?”

You nod and cup his face with your warm hands, “Thank you, my love. You’re a lifesaver.”

He smiles, rubbing your back slowly before turning your attention to the daily newspaper. You notice his jaw clench as he reads the front cover, so you turn to the newspaper too.

“2 Bodies Found at the Docking Pier Near Club 30”

“Oh my,” you gasp, catching Michael’s attention, “Poor souls.”

“It’s shocking indeed, darling,” he says not because he means it but because he has to in order not to alarm you.

You can tell he knows more about these deaths than he’s saying, so you probe.

“When did they find them?”

“The morning of September 9th.” He answers as he continues to read.

“Were you not there the night before?” You lean closer to him.

“What are you sayin’?” He slowly turns towards you.

You huff and look him dead in his eyes. ”Surely you would have seen something.”

Michael’s gaze hardens, and his hand clutches the newspaper tightly. It’s not the first time you’ve angered him this way. There have been times when you asked him about his whereabouts, noticing how they always seemed to correlate with the discovery of a dead body. This time, however, you probably went further. Gone are the days when you simply say, “Okay, fine,” and let it go. Today, you want to know as much as he’ll tell you, even if it means he’ll be infuriated by your unwavering questioning.

“Darlin’…” He takes a deep breath to calm himself. “Why would I know a thing about this?” He asks, irritated, shaking the paper firmly.

“Because you were there the night before, no?” He nods. “And the paper says there was a quarrel around the same time you were there for a drink.”

You observe his increasing anger, his breath getting deeper as he attempts to keep himself from raising his voice at you. One thing is for sure; he has something to hide, but he won’t dare yell at you. He knows better than to treat his woman with such fury. He would rather die than create room in your heart for you to fear him. If he did that, he would have failed as a husband, as a man, but God, were you pissing him off right now?

“Darlin’, I do not witness the fights that break out at that club. I’m gone by then.” He speaks bluntly.

“So why’d you come home so late that night?”

“Listen,” He snaps but quickly lowers his voice, “What I do in my spare time is not your concern. All you need to worry about is the going-ons of our home and yourself. Is that clear, Darlin’?”

His tone is stern as if to discipline you like a child. He’s never used such a tone while addressing you. You knew now that he was not telling you the complete story.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to get ready for work.” That's the last thing he said to you that day before he disappeared out of the large wooden doors of your home to do God knows what.

19:00

Michael had arrived back from work an hour prior. He did not spend much time with you that evening, and soon, he was out the door. The only thing he said was that he’d be back with the alcohol for tomorrow’s housewarming. Why were you having a housewarming two years into moving here? You didn’t know, but that's not important. What's important is to figure out exactly what he has planned for the night.

23:17

“Mrs. Jackson, the car is ready for you,” Diane whispers, and you nod.

“Thank you, Diane. You and Claire be sure to take the day off tomorrow. We’ll have other servers here in your place.” Diane nods hastily at your words before she and Claire disappear into the servants’ quarters.

23:45

You thank the driver before stepping out of the car. Here you are, in front of Club 30 once again. It had been months since you were here, having feared that you’d meet the same fate as those two young men who were found dead this morning. That fear is now replaced with pent-up rage from your husband's lies. You were done with the secrets. Tonight, you’ll find out the truth, and nothing will stop you from completing that mission.

You walk into the alley and sneak your way into the club through the back door.

“Thank you, Louis. You’re a gem.” You give the bartender a soft kiss on the cheek as he helps you through the club’s kitchen.

“He’s here already. Two men came in shortly after him,” he blushes at the kiss, “Then two other men followed. They’re all seated together in this booth.”

You nod with a frown. “Do you know what they are up to?”

“No, ma’am. They’ve had the jazz band playing to cover up their conversations, but the band will retire for the night soon.”

You follow him to the club’s end of the kitchen. To your surprise, the band has already left, leaving the five men, including Michael, to their own devices. Their conversation is clear as day. Both you and Louis lean on the door to listen in.

23:50

“How did they find the bodies?” Michael asks, his tone cold.

“We don’t know, boss. Don said he’d take care of it, but—” One of the men tries to defend himself but is interrupted by the other.

“I never said I’d take care of anything!” You assume it is Don talking.

“Boss told you too! You always mess up the simplest jobs.”

“Enough!” You hear Michael shout as he delivers a loud bang to the table. “I will not tolerate such childish behaviour from anyone tonight. You all need to shut up and listen.”

A shiver runs down your back at his commanding voice. His soft-spoken nature seems to have shifted into something darker, something you didn’t recognise. Was this your husband? Of course, it was, but this was a side of him you were not acquainted with.

“But first. I must deal with something,” Michael begins. “Louis, bring her here.”

You dart your eyes to Louis, whose hand has already grasped yours, pulling you out of the kitchen and into the main room of the club. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and fear as Michael stands before you, his curls messy and his suit well-kept. He clicks his tongue and circles you slowly, shooing Louis away with a knowing nod.

“Now, now. What do we have here?” Michael speaks with a disappointed tone.

You’re frozen in place. The shock of Louis having sold you out is still fogging your mind. All you can do is dart your eyes from left to right as he continues the torturous dance around you. At that moment, you feel small. Like a rabbit waiting for the cheetah before it pounces. Its heart thumps uncontrollably as it awaits its demise.

“I—I can explain—”

Michael chuckles. “What happened to all that spunk you had interrogating me this morning, Darlin’? Was it all a front?”

You have no choice but to look down abashedly. You’ve been caught, your plans ruined by someone you thought you could trust. Oh, once you get out of here, you’ll be ripping Louis a new one.

“Come. Sit.” Michael grabs your arm and leads you to the booth. You fall onto the leather seat and face the four men who sit across from you and Michael on hard wooden stools.

“Explain yourself, darlin’.” He commands.

The anger you’ve bottled up finally spills over as you begin, “No! You have a lot of nerve to do such a thing! How dare you lie to me about your life to this degree? Shame on you! Shame on all of you in this room right now!”

You’re seething with anger, your hands clench tight around nothing, your jaw tight, and your brows furrowed. Your eyes roam your surroundings. The four men facing you don’t react to your words. One, however, smiles contently.

“I never knew your wife could yell like that, Boss.” Don smiles.

“Neither did I,” Michael admits, “You’re full of surprises, young lady.”

“And you’re full of shit!” You spit at Michael, provoking a twitch of disapproval across his face.

“Watch yourself.” He lifts a finger, reprimanding your outburst. “I know you want answers, but I will not accept such foul language, darlin’. Got it?”

You shake your head, cross your arms, and look anywhere but at him or his lackeys. “Speak.”

Michael chuckles at your attempt to be tough. “Oh, you’re too cute, my love,” he says as he sits beside you, “As you wish. What would you like to know?”

“Who are these men?” You start with a simple question.

“These are Tony, Don, Trevor, and Allen. They’re my cleaners, my boys.” He sips his whisky.

“Cleaners? Meaning what?” You raise a brow at them, and they all bow their heads in acknowledgement.

“What an innocent mind you have, darlin’.” He coos. “They clean up after me. You know, after I deal with someone.”

“What?” You raise your voice.

“We get rid of anyone he kills, Mrs. Jackson. That’s our job, but someone didn’t do it right on Friday.” Tony hits Don on the head.

Michael shifts in the seat and shakes his head. “You are all so childish.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Your husband, the man you love, is a killer. A cold-blooded killer. How couldn’t you have known? How did he never show any sign of this sick side?

“Michael, you’re a killer?” You look at him with your cheeks red.

“Darlin’, it’s much more complicated than that—”

“Then explain yourself!” You snap.

Michael sighs. He stands up, holding out his hand for you to take it, but you don't. Instead, you stand and follow him to the balcony on the second floor.

00:00

The hustle and bustle of Chicago has slowed down significantly at this hour. As you and Michael stand outside, you hear a dog bark from afar and a car rumble through the empty road. This calm view of the city lights does little to nothing to ease your stress. It seems as though nothing he has to say will change how you feel in the moment.

“Listen, I know what you’ve heard is concerning to you, but I must assure you, my love, that you have nothing to worry about.”

“Is that so?” You huff. “How am I not to worry when you’re running the streets killing people?”

Michael lifts his finger to hush you. The last thing he needs is to have the patrolling police listening in on your heated conversation.

“It’s not that simple, my love.”

“Simplify it for me.” You cross your arms.

“You won’t believe me, but alas, I’ll explain.” He leans onto the rails, lighting up a cigar before taking a long breath of the smoky substance.

“Remember when I told you about my upbringing? My family always had to move from state to state,” you nod. “Well, that was because my father was involved in criminal activity. But you know that part.”

Your memory is sparked, and you remember Michael telling you about how his father was killed in prison by a gang member he worked in opposition with.

“Go on,” you command.

“When my father died, my older brothers wanted nothing to do with the life he led, so I took over as boss.” Michael wraps his lips around the cigar, sucking on it as it fills his lungs with the smoky air. He puffs rings of smoke out as he watches for your reaction.

“You're some kind of mafia boss? here, in Chicago?” You cough as the aftersmoke hits your throat.

All Michael can do is nod. His eyes stay fixed on you as you take in everything you’ve heard. How long was he going to hide this? What would he have done if you were in trouble? What did he expect you to do if he got arrested or hurt?

“I would never let myself get hurt, let alone put you in any form of danger, darlin’. I swear.” He reassures you with one hand on your face and the other holding the burning cigar.

“You’ve already endangered me by not telling me this from the beginning.” Your voice cracks.

“How could I tell a stranger that I’m a criminal?” He runs his fingers through his curls.

“You’re calling your wife a stranger? Jeez, Michael. I never knew you were this cruel.” Your head shakes as tears roll down your cheeks.

“Darlin’…I meant no harm. believe me.” Michael wipes a tear from your eye, which does nothing to soothe your sorrow.

“I cannot do this right now.” You turn away from him.

“My love…” His voice falls small.

“You’ve lied to me for three years, Michael.” You take a step away from him. “I cannot bear to look at you without feeling betrayed. I cannot be around you right now. I don't even recognise you anymore”

You walk away, leaving him on the balcony with a cigar in his hand and a tear threatening to fall from his beautiful brown eyes.

00:38

As you pack an overnight bag, you look at your shared bed with teary eyes. The thought of you sharing a bed with a killer haunts your mind and breaks your heart. You had to get away from here, from him. Nothing could stop you from seeing him as a monster.

You married a killer. You married a criminal.

[iloveacronix]

I love Krux and Acronix. Best best bros. Best bros. Woag. Krux and Acronix. Silly war criminals!! Woag! I love Krux and Acronix!! I hope nothing bad happens to them! Woag! Krux! Acronix! Krux and Acronix! Woo! Woag! Watch hands of time and see how supportive they are to each other! Krux waited 40 years for his brother to come back! Woag! So sweet! Best bros! I love Krux and Acronix!

I hope they both die in each other's arms, pleading each other to keep going, to let go of the other, to continue living. I hope they both cry and break down into tears when they realize that they, once again, have been separated by time itself. Their power. The one thing that connected them had also torn them apart. I hope they hug terribly after finding each other again, only to find out that their nice little reunion was just a dream. I hope they spend years separated. Anything for the angst, trust trust....

[homeofhousechickens]

Seeing your ex with her new husband

[taegimood]

alright i need y’all to buckle up and hear me out cuz this is gonna be a long one…. bunny hybrid!soobin.

bunny hybrid!soobin w his long white ears that flop down instead of standing up just like his chikai chibi hat ❤️‍🩹

bunny hybrid!soobin who’s soooooooooo shy and nervous when you first bring him home… nervous twitching little tail and warm cheeks, bad at making eye contact, shifting awkwardly in one spot in the living room cuz it’s not home to him yet 🤧 also easily startled but you come to realize later that that’s just part of his personality so you try not to sneak up too much even on accident <3

he’s SO HUGE but such a baby !!! it takes him a while to warm up to you but not in any nasty way, just shy and hesitant, and you always give him space while making it known that the option to join you or be close to you is always open to him and eventually he starts to take it 🥺

at first he would sit stiff as a board on the complete opposite end of the couch from you LMAO but eventually over time he gets comfortable coming closer, until eventually his favorite thing becomes laying his head in your lap while you stroke his ears or sitting on the floor by your feet and leaning into your legs (but don’t point it out to him or he’ll get too shy and retreat).

i know that for rabbits, especially males, there’s not really a specific mating season because they literally will just want to breed any time of the year (lol rip 24/7 horny soobin) — but for hybrids, since they are.. hybrids, literally.. then let’s say that they do go into a regular heat, and let’s say that soobin’s is coming fairly soon after you first take him home.

only a month or two has passed so even though he’s comfortable with you now, he’s still a little reserved and shy with certain things, and so for his sake you’re dreading the coming conversation as you sit him down and gently try to bring up the topic of a breeding partner. the way he would get SO red, tail twitching and leg bouncing in his seat.. he’s refusing to make eye contact as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap and stammers “i-it’s okay, i-i don’t need one..” ears drooping forward to shadow over his face cuz he’s too busy looking down at his hands 😖

you’re gently trying to convince him that he does need one or he’ll be miserable, that it’s totally normal and expected and most people find breeding partners for their hybrids every season so it’s nothing to be ashamed of !!! you say most people because the other percentage are the ones who let their hybrids use them instead COUGH HACK but he doesn’t need to know that

you try to explain that there are services and programs just for this reason and it would be so easy peasy, just for a couple weeks, but soobin is NAWT HAVING IT as he suddenly springs up from his seat and darts out of the room — having gotten progressively redder and more jittery over the course of your attempted convincing.

he’s never bad or disobedient, would normally never run away like that while you’re in the middle of talking to him, but he just got SO unbearably embarrassed and shy,,,,, not to mention: the guilty filthy shameful (in his mind) secret that he has…… and that is, he actually doesn’t want it to be anyone else but you.

he feels safe with you, he trusts you, he’s already bonded to you more than you realize and part of the reason why he got so freaked out and ran away was because all his mind kept going back to was BREEDING YOU INSTEAD 😩 and little do the two of you know, but all the adrenaline from his little freak out ended up kickstarting his heat EARLY and when you find him later in his room after giving him some space for the day, he’s feverish, sweating and whimpering and writhing around uncomfortably in his blankets, hugging one of your sweatshirts to his face as he breathes in your scent. (a sweatshirt that you thought you’d lost, but turns out he had secretly taken for himself).

“binnie!!!” you’re rushing to him immediately cuz you’re so worried but that was a mistake or was it because the second you touch him, the second your scent fully wafts over him, there’s no going back. eyes shooting open and pupils blown out as they lock onto yours, and the next thing you know you’re face down in his blankets as he’s pounding you from behind, chest pressed flush against your back as his hips slam against your ass over and over and over again and he’s whining and whimpering into your ear, telling you how he didn’t want anyone else, didn’t want some bunny girl, he just wanted you, and he keeps apologizing but he can’t stop 🤧

you can finally admit that you fucking love it though because surprise surprise, you ALSO had some filthy secrets of your own and there was a part of you already that sometimes wondered what it’d be like to let him use you instead; on nights when it was hard to sleep and you’d lay awake in bed thinking of his big, gentle frame and pillowy lips, his soft eyes that contrasted so harshly with his strong hands and the outline of that huge cock in his pants that you tried so hard to pretend you never noticed.

it was especially difficult on nights when you could hear him from his designated room, his soft moans and little gasps as he would touch himself that never left your head — eventually causing even your own hand to wander into your panties with a mind of its own.

the kicker was that one time when you were relaxed together on the couch petting his ears as usual and thought, would he like it if i scratched behind them too?

….liking it is an understatement, because the moan that he let out as a result was enough to cut the evening short, him hiding away in his room from sheer embarrassment while you didn’t catch a wink of sleep that night, because all you could think was: i want to hear it again.

for a while after that he would get jumpy when you tried to touch his ears and you were worried you did something wrong to make him scared of you or something, but in reality he was just scared of HIMSELF and was convinced that he’d have to dig a hole and die of embarrassment if he ever moaned like that in front of you again. but don’t worry, the distance didn’t last long cuz he’s just too weak for you and can’t resist your nightly head pets <3

but i digress;;; basically the both of you just wanting each other so bad and not even knowing it, both feeling so guilty and shameful over it until now. now.. right now, as his big cock is buried so deep inside of you that you can’t think of anything else even if you wanted to; right now as he’s fucking you with so much desperation that the bedframe is gashing the paint right off of the rattling wall.

there wasn’t even the chance for clothes to fully come off, but you have plenty of time, and after that the two of you end up barely leaving his room for his entire one or two week heat other than for necessity because you know what they say about rabbits….

as fucked out of your mind as you are, you take such good care of him between waves with what energy you have left — placing wet cloths over his forehead and wiping the sheen of sweat from his neck and collarbones to ease his fever, trying to clean up as much cum and mess as you can before the next round hits, keeping his damp hair from his dazed, half-lidded eyes that watch you so gratefully, poor baby so vulnerable and exhausted between the waves of frenzy… and after everything’s finally over and it passes, he treats you like a FUCKING QUEEN trying to make up for battering you to death with his monster bunny cock all that time <3 you literally Cannot Walk

side note moablr is always talking abt soobin w a breeding kink but imagine BUNNY SOOBIN ???!!!!! holy shit logically he knows it’s not possible to get you pregnant but THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE WON’T TRY 😫 balls deep inside you babbling on and on about how he’s gonna breed you so good and fill you with his babies and he’ll do so well for you he promises - cums BUCKETS, thick and sticky and so much everywhere but cough anyway this is a whole other can of worms

after that first heat your relationship is obviously different but you’re always willing to give soobin whatever he needs. you learn very quickly that those pretty bunny lips have an oral fixation, always wanting something to suckle on; good thing you have tits !! and fingers 🥰

you’re laying on the couch watching a movie and he’ll walk over, just hovering hesitantly, fiddling with his hands, bunny lips pursed as if he wants to say something but isn’t… you immediately know what he wants and sigh with an endearing smile, murmuring “c’mere,” and opening your arms to him. he grins shyly and immediately flops on top of you, nestling into your arms, nuzzling his face into your chest before gradually his lips start suckling lightly at the part of your breasts he can get at, and then he’s pawing at your tank top, eventually getting it pushed down enough that your tits are free and he just lays there sucking and licking at your nipples for ages while you watch your movie, the occasional little moan slipping past his lips as his hips shift against you.

eventually you have to literally pull him off of you when you get too sensitive and he’s so whiny and sad. sighing and running your fingers over his lips instead; caressing your thumb over his pouty bottom lip, swollen from all the suckling, his glazed eyes watching you in anticipation, and as you slowly push your thumb past his lips he immediately moans and obediently begins to suck on that too, eyes sliding shut as his hot tongue swirls around it.

which brings me to soobin sucking on your fingers with barely-open eyes as you ride him — he’s so blissed out, fucked out look on his face as he drools around your fingers, hands weakly reaching for your plush thighs, your waist, your tits; just so fucking content as he lays there and takes everything you give him, moaning around your fingers with half-lidded eyes and his soft pretty bunny ears splayed out on the pillows, framing his handsome face <3

soobin always being too shy to go full out cock monster on you unless he’s desperate for it, so you like to purposefully get him to that point by cockwarming him, chilling on the couch not letting him move as you sit and read your book or play on your phone; he’s trying so hard to be a good boy and wait for your direction, but with the way your warm pussy keeps tightening around him he just can’t take it anymore and desperate frenzied soobin is unlocked as he flips you over and fucks you into the couch cushions like a madman.

and a final thought for now is tugging lightly on his ears or his tail whenever he’s getting too ahead of himself and it only makes him more of a whiny mess; he’d spend the whole day with his mouth buried between your thighs if he could, so tug on his soft ears and it gets him all teary-eyed as you’re holding his face back mere centimeters from your cunt that he wants to bury his face in so badly </3

if your nipples are too sensitive at the moment to handle his oral fixation or if your hands are too busy doing something else, then you can always find soobin between your legs, mouthing at your pussy and humping the air or the couch as his little whimpers send delicious vibrations up through your core.

aaaaanyway.. i love hybrid aus man. just soft sweet bunny soobin who loves and trusts you so much and always wants to be inside you, close to you, connected to you in some way. just so so happy to be yours ❤️‍🩹

p.s… i may or may not have hybrid thoughts for other members as well 👀

[indyanapolis898]

Mastermind

Peter Parker x f!reader

Synopsis: Peter has a crush on you from afar. One day you ask him to tutor you and things go from there.

Note: This really doesn't follow any specific canon from the movies.

"You know staring at Y/N won't make her like you."

Peter's head shot up at the sound of a voice behind him, that of MJ's. 

"W-what are you talking about?" Peter chuckled awkwardly, doing a horrible job of lying. 

"Me and Ned notice how much you watch Y/N. You always bring up any interaction you two have- and so much more! You like her. Just admit it, nerd," MJ explained amid the noisy school cafeteria. 

"So what if I do?" Peter shrugged as MJ sat next to him. 

"You should make a move- oh wait- you're too scared," MJ said with a sly smirk, begging him to fight back, which he did. 

"Nervous? I'm an Avenger! I don't get nervous!" Peter hissed.

"Then go talk to her, Avenger" MJ shrugged like it was the only obvious option.

"Well- I- I just don't want her to think I'm weird."

"Well, then you're out of luck in that regard," she joked dryly. "You two used to be close. Why can't you spark up a conversation about, like, the past?" 

"'Cause it's random, and also, we were friends in middle school! That was a while ago, MJ!"

"OK, Parker, I give up. Enjoy your futile people-watching."

Peter watched as MJ walked away to the lunch line. She wasn't wrong. He was too scared to even consider being near Y/N. 

The boy sighed, going back to eating his lunch after you left the room. 

___

"Alrighty!" Mr. Harrington clapped his hands together. "We have a new member for this semester's Academic Decathlon!"

The club whispered among themselves in anticipation of who it could be. Peter glanced up from his book when, of course, you entered the classroom with a new copy of the textbook. 

"I'm sure you all know Y/N, so welcome her into the club and help her get acquainted with the material for today's practice."

You smiled shyly at the group, waving and going to take a seat in the open chair next to Flash.

Peter silently groaned, letting his head fall onto the desk. Of course, it was you, and of course, you had to sit next to Flash. Flash had an obvious crush on you as well. 

"Peter. Wanna start off today's practice?" Mr. Harrington asked, staring directly at Peter as he lifted his head off his desk. Everyone was looking at him.

Peter sighed, standing up with his textbook to go to the podium to call the questions. 

The first round went by fast. You answered three times, getting all answers right. Peter could feel himself smile every time you rang the bell. 

Peter tried his best to compliment you when you answered during the second round. 

At one point, Peter asked a question the Flash rang in for. Peter watched as the boy mouthed to you: watch this. 

Flash got the question wrong, making you slightly giggle. Peter chucked, as did the rest of the class, at Flash's misplaced confidence. However, Peter wasn't laughing at Flash this time- he was laughing because you laughed. Peter wanted to cling on to any bit of you he could. He was glad Flash's terrible attempt to show off failed. 

After a few more rounds, Peter traded off with another student. Peter didn't want to be like Flash and do a flashy show-off of his skills, but he did want to impress you. 

Peter heard the first question- ringing in as soon as he could. He wasn't confident with his odds but gave a shaky answer, which was revealed to be correct. 

Peter smiled slightly. When he glanced to the left, you were smiling at him, presumably because he aced the question. He smiled back at you, hoping this was some sort of connection. You were noticing him!

If that was what it took, he could do it. Peter answered every question he could, getting almost all right. He got a thumbs-up from you once after a question!

___

After practice ended, he was packing his bag to leave when you approached him. Peter felt his heart speeding up dramatically.

"Hey, Peter. Love the jacket," you started things off, making Peter smile and examine his jacket, vowing to wear it more often. 

"Thank you. I... like your shirt. Um- you did good on your first day," Peter gave a tightlipped smile, trying to act normal. 

"Thanks, but you were on fire! Like seriously, some of those questions were insane," you gushed, grinning the whole time.

"Oh, wow, uh, thank you!" Peter stuttered out, causing you to giggle. "You gave great answers, too!" He rushed to follow up.

"Yeah, about that... those were the bare minimum. I joined this club to help raise my grades. Clearly you know your stuff, so... I have the biggest favor to ask."

Peter raised his brows. "Uh, yeah, what's that?"

"So, it's OK if you say no because it's so random, but could you tutor me in some of the subjects covered here? I could really use the help, but again it's OK if y-"

"I'll do it," Peter agreed quickly, blushing at how eager he sounded. You grinned largely. 

"Seriously? 'Cause I could pay you if that's necessary." 

"Y/N, you don't have to pay anything. Honestly, I mean, it's the least I can do for the girl who defended me from Jose in 8th grade," Peter recalled a memory from their past, mentally punching himself for saying something that most likely meant nothing to her.

"You still remember that? Wow, I didn't know I could even make an impact like that," you said, surprised in a good way.

Peter decided to roll with it. "Uh, yeah, I mean, Jose was a jerk, so I was just glad someone stood up for me. So, uh, yeah," Peter awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Anytime. But yeah, thank you so much for agreeing. When are you free to go over the material?"

Peter supposed one evening without Spider-Man wouldn't hurt. "Tonight," he said right away. "Um, like five?"

"Can do. At the library?"

"Absolutely."

"See you then, Peter. Thanks again," you waved at him as you left the class to go to your next. 

___

"So, you're telling me that all you had to do was be nerdy, and she just came up to you?" MJ recounted Peter's story in a tone laced with disbelief.

"Yes! Seriously. If you didn't have to miss today's practice for your re-do test, you would've seen it! So, believe it or not, I've gotta get to the library soon and tutor Y/N," Peter said cockily, standing up from the barstool at the cafe MJ part-timed at. 

MJ just rolled her eyes but gave a genuine smile. "Good luck. Don't screw it up."

"Thanks? I'll try not to."

With that, Peter slung his bag onto his back and left the shop, library-bound. 

___

The library wasn't awfully busy that weekday, making it easy to find a table in a corner. Peter laid his books and notebooks out, realizing you wouldn't know where he was, nor did he have your number to text you. 

Everything worked out, however, when you wandered into the back section he was sitting, looking lost. Your eyes lit up at the sight of him, making Peter's stomach churn in a good way.

You walked with a purpose over to the table, sitting your stuff down. "I was looking all over for you," you grinned, not meaning it in a guilt-tripping way. 

Peter realized he actually had to reply instead of staying in a daydream. "Oh- yeah. I sat here and realized you might not be able to find me, but luckily you did."

"Yeah, it only took like, seven different aisles," you laughed before opening your notebook.

Peter couldn't tell if he was just nervous or if he just loved the sound of your laugh, but his heart raced. 

"So, I was thinking... we could piggyback off what we did in practice today?"

"Sounds good. I'm sure whatever I learn will be good when you're teaching it," you said, laying your chin on the palm of your hand. 

Peter could feel his face heat up. He ducked his head down to the textbook and chuckled. "Yeah... I- uh- just start in on page five right here."

For thirty minutes, Peter was able to impart some knowledge your way. After you two finished a chapter, you turned to Peter with a closed-mouth smile. "This has been really helpful, thank you."

Peter frowned. "You're done?"

You continued smiling. "Just for today, yeah. But I'm really hungry... do you wanna get something to eat?"

Peter perked up at the invitation to continue spending time together. "Yeah, I'd love to!" He said very excitedly, to which you just giggled. 

"OK, c'mon. I'll show you this really good Thai place I like down the block."

You and Peter collected your things, exiting the library together to walk down the sidewalk to the restaurant of choice.

"So, you had that Stark Internship, right?"

"Yeah- still do, actually. I'm still just the young guy, though."

"Hey, they'll realize what a dedicated worker you are, and when they do, they'll have to give you more opportunities."

"You think so?"

"You seem like you have a great work ethic, Peter, so yeah, I do think so."

Peter just grinned, looking down at the sidewalk. You were making him nervous.

___

The restaurant you two entered was moderately nice for a casual New York City restaurant. 

You both ordered at the counter and then sat at an empty table.

Peter wanted to try and flirt, but he knew he'd be super awkward and make things weird. Nevertheless, he still attempted to gain your favor.

"You caught on really fast with the Academic stuff. It was like you already knew it! So, I guess you're a natural."

You looked away and grinned. "Thank you. I- um- guess I just needed a few reminders, is all."

Peter cocked a brow, but their food was placed in front of them at that moment. The two ate, sharing conversation about middle school and how annoying some of their classes were now. 

Somehow, the topic got moved on to Flash. 

"You know Flash has a thing for you," Peter decided to throw bait into the water as the pair left the restaurant, being that they had finished their food.

You furrowed your brows. "Yeah, I know. We actually have two classes together- three counting Decathalon now. He hits on me every day. It gets tiring really fast."

"What?" Peter exclaimed in fake shock. "You don't appreciate all his futile attempts to be a womanizer?"

You laughed and shook your head. "Crazy, right? I might be the only one who doesn't. I just- I just already have my eyes on someone else."

"Oh," Peter mumbled aloud, regretting how disappointed he sounded. "Um... is it weird to ask-"

"Who it is?" you cut him off. "Yeah, I was hoping you would've guessed by now," you stopped walking, Peter doing the same, peering at you with confusion. 

"I-I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be invasive. I-"

"It's you, Peter. I've been trying to flirt with you and give you hints, hoping you'd make a move," you chuckled to fill the air.

"Oh... Oh!" Peter put a hand to his chest. "You," he pointed at you, then back at himself. "Like me?"

"Yes!" You desperately hoped he felt the same.

"I- woah. I really like you too, Y/N," Peter sputtered out.

"Really? Because I was starting to think my plan failed."

"Plan?"

"You said it yourself in the restaurant... I already knew that stuff we were learning. I don't need tutoring. I just decided to ask you so... I dunno," you looked away embarrassed. "So we could do something outside of school."

When you looked back up, Peter was grinning widely. "You made a plan just to be with me?" 

You nodded. 

"That's- wow. I was trying to drop hints all day too, but I suck at anything flirting-wise. I was just excited you kept asking to do stuff, but you planned this all along. You made the dominoes fall until we were here."

"I didn't know this would be how I confessed, but yeah. I don't need tutoring when I'm the mastermind," you joked and shrugged.

"Maybe it's my turn to do something..." Peter looked into your eyes, searching your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You leaned in, letting that be your answer. His lips met yours as you two kissed in the darkening evening. The cool Queens air hit the side of your face as you pulled away, catching your breath. 

"Was that good? Because I'm definitely not an expert."

You just giggled. "Yes, it was great, Peter."

"Can I walk you home?" Peter pursed his lips, waiting for an answer.

You nodded and thanked him graciously with another kiss. With that, you two set off toward your apartment as the street lights flickered on in the chilled air.

___

"...And then we kissed. Boom! In your face!"

MJ rolled her eyes and laughed while Ned clapped Peter on the back.

"Dude! You got a girlfriend!"

Peter chuckled at Ned's enthusiasm. Peter's phone dinged at that moment. It was a text from you. 

"Gotta go, guys. Peter has a second date today with Y/N."

"Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?" 

"Yep, deal with it!" Peter called, already out the door of the cafe. 

___

You were waiting at the subway station. Peter jogged down the stairs, joining you to enter the train and go ice skating. 

You reached your hand out, Peter taking it as you two entered the train. 

It was only the second date, but you knew Peter was going to make you happy. You simply looked up at Peter, smiling, which he returned with his signature grin.

The train's doors shut, and you two were carried away down the tracks, ready for what was to come. 

[ellanainthetardis]

Am I kickstarting this week? It's the 21st here and if I don't do it now I will forget so... Here you go!

Theme 1 of Hayffie week is Forced Proximity so here have a snow storm in 12 post war book!verse.

A Bubble In Time

Effie had had a lot of preconceived notions about what living in Twelve with Haymitch would be like.

She had expected it to be difficult on a good day and properly awful on bad ones. She had thirteen years of experience sharing a penthouse, after all. The couple of months they had shared a room and then her apartment after the war somehow didn’t seem to count. She had only been half there in her mind and Haymitch had been walking on eggshells, desperate to take care of her in any way he could to assuage his guilt about what had happened to her during the war.

Or at least that was what she had thought.

She had run to Twelve because she had been out of options. Out of air, really. The only alternative she had been able to see at the time was of the more permanent nature and the thought of actually hurting herself had been tempting enough that it had properly scared her. She had jumped on a train and she had never looked back.

She had expected it to be difficult or awful.

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[michaelsfavgirl]

he takes care of you when you're sick

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Tags: established relationship, fluff, Mike being husband material

Word Count: 500+

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: first hcs on this blog lets gooo

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

Oh boy, let’s get into it

Michael is very protective of you as it is

But when you’re sick Michael's protective instincts kick into overdrive (affectionately)

Doesn't care whether it's just a common cold or something miniscule

He’s immediately treating you like fragile porcelain

But god forbid If it's a fever or a more serious ailment, he's practically glued to your hip 24/7

Good luck getting any personal space during those times

He fusses over you constantly, asking if you need him to fetch you something, making sure you're comfortable

“Feeling any better, sweet girl?”

“Are you getting cold? Lemme just quickly grab your favorite blanket” 

This man can cook, okay? So expect him to whip up all kinds of soups to make you feel better.

Don't you even dare to disrespect him by opening the fridge and trying to make a meal for yourself

he won't hear of it

“Ah ah, none of that, don’t want my girl strainin herself for no reason” 

“Mike i just want to eat-” 

“shh, i’m here to take care of you, let’s get you back into bed hm? You go take a little nap while I make you something okay baby?” you nod defeatedly and take your ass back to bed 

Is very serious when it comes to taking medicine

Doesn't care if you say it tastes like dookie

You’re taking it, end of conversation

He’ll revoke your kisses and cuddles privileges if you don’t comply

He’s pretty cruel as you can tell 

But he’s so sweet afterwards, showering you with praise and kisses

“That wasn’t so difficult now was it?” He says and kisses your pout away 

Will 100% help you shower if you’re feeling weak 

Even when you're not sick, he enjoys doing domestic things with you; it makes him feel fuzzy and warm inside

Michael refuses to put any distance between you in bed, no matter how much you protest that he'll get sick too

This man looks at you like -_- ‘You think I care bout that?’

He'll wrap you securely in his arms and pull the sheets up to your neck

His huge hands gently caressing your skin and humming a soothing tune

As you start to feel better Michael feels a little guilty and selfish

 Of course he wants his precious angel to be healthy and all, but he really gets used to taking care of you so intimately very quickly and wishes it could go on a little longer

You have to remind him that y’all live together and spend most of your time in each other's presence.

It doesn’t get any closer than that but he’s still pouting like a baby, saying he’ll miss taking care of you

As if he doesn’t already do everything for you and spoil you rotten

This man will be the death of you…and you wouldn’t have it any other way <3

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @anivkye @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The hard days

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: reader has been struggling a bit and her girls step in.

TW: depression? Sadness

A/n I want people to know I’m still now writing much marvel but this was a special request so … yeah.

To say you felt bad would be an understatement. It had been a hard day. No. It had been a hard week filled with hard days and it just seemed to be never ending. Today you decided to tell whoever was pulling the strings to kindly fuck off. Whatever cruel game they were playing could play without you for just one day. Sure, it wouldn’t fix anything, but the bed was so comfy. The team could survive one day without you. They were big kids, and they could suck it up for once. Today was a pj and bed day. The only reason you were leaving this bed was for the bathroom and snacks.

Nat had been up since dawn as she was every day. You can take the girl out of training, but you can’t take the training out of the girl. Nat was in the gym, the boys were all away on a trip to some space conference or something Tony wasn’t in a sharing mood, so they were either in space or somewhere else, for once nat didn’t care.

After a solid three hours in the gym, she threw in the towel. Using the fluffy sports towels Tony kept in the gym nat took a shower and changed into comfier clothes. She has been up before the sun and already gone for a run before she came to the gym.

After what could only be described as the best shower of her life, nat walked to the lift and caught it to the communal floors for a hearty breakfast. Quietly she padded down the hall and into the kitchen. For once it was only Wanda at the table and they exchanged a puzzled look.

“I thought y/n was with you?” Wanda said covering her mouth which was full of jam and toast.

“I assumed she was here?” Nat responded coming to lean on the bench.

“Nope, haven’t seen her at all today.”

“Neither.” Nat frowned, you had seemed rather blue and tired when you went to bed last night but nat was willing to dismiss it as stress combined with fatigue.

“We should probably go check on her. Right?” Wanda asked putting down her half-eaten toast.

“Yeah… yeah, probably.” Nat said trying to stop herself from biting her lip. She usually did her best to suppress her anxious habits to make it easier to slide into character for missions. Wanda slides a comforting arm up and down nat arm.

“She’ll be alright. She probably just overslept.” Wanda said but they both knew you never overslept.

The two women took the lift to the floor with everyone’s rooms. Walking down to the hall at the end nat forwent knocking as her nerves got the better of her while her mind ran circles around her heart.

Opening the door, she frowned at the fact the curtains were still drawn. She looked to the bed to see a y/n sized lump cover head to toe by the blankets. Wanda stood in the doorway ready to provide backup of nat needed it.

“Y/n.” Nat said poking the lump.

“No.” Came a mumbled response.

“No?” Nat asked.

“No.” you said again.

“Y/n what’s wrong you never sleep in?” Nat asked shuffling up the bed to wrap her arms around you as best she could in this position. “Baby we just want to help.” She said softly.

“It’s … it’s all too hard.” You sobbed and Nat gently peeled back the blanket to see your tear-stained face.

“Oh honey.” She cooed and slide under the blankets to wrap you in her arms. She ran her hands through your hair while she tucked your face under her chin. “It’s ok my sweet girl. It’s ok. It will all be ok. I won’t let anything happen to you. We love you so much baby girl.” She cooed holding you tight into her chest. Over your head she shot Wanda a look and Wanda nodded and disappeared.

You must have cried for hours. To Nat’s credit she never left your side. She held you the whole time, uncaring of her tear-soaked clothes, you were more important.

“Baby? Do you want me to braid your hair?” Nat whispered and felt you nod into her collarbone. Gently she sat you up and grabbed the hairbrush from the bedside. After brushing out the knots which was a slow process due to her wanting to tease them all so you weren’t in pain, she started braiding. She began by sectioning your hair, running her nails over your scalp to seperate it into chunks. After it was properly parted she began twisting the strands, grabbing more hair as she went to create a beautiful design that ran across your head and fell into two of the cleanest braids you had ever seen. When nat was done she pressed a kiss to each of you cheeks and rubbed her thumb over your cheekbone.

“Oh my love, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t know how I’d survive without your little notes it find around the tower. Or the endless ideas you have on missions. Your so special my dove, never forget that. The world would be lonely without you. Everyone is unique to loose you would be to loose something so unique it will never return. We need you. Not just as an agent, but as a person. You are loved my baby. You are so so loved.” Nat said and pressed a kiss to your nose. You let out a small sniffle and nuzzled into her neck.

Wanda came back to the door and sent nat a nod over your head.

“Hey y/n/n?” Nat asked softly.

“What?” You asked in a small shy voice.

“I think you might want to come to the cinema.” Nat said and helped you up. You shot her a confused look and nodded to tired to disagree.

“Ok.” You mumbled.

“Thank you baby.” Nat said and before you could react she scooped you into her arms. Your fronts pressed together as she held onto you like a toddler. You buried your face in the side of her neck and let the up and down motion of her steps lull you into a soft hazy daze.

After a minute you felt nat sit down on something soft. She held you close to her and whispered in your ear. “Open your eyes sweetie.” She said and you looked up. And you have never loved Wanda more.

Starting with the table, Wanda has dragged a table into the room which was covered in snack and drinks as well as just about every takeaway box from New York. She had made a pile of blankets which was made into a makeshift bed the size of almost the whole cinema floor. Pepper was sat cross legged tapping on a tablet and looked up to meet your gaze with a tender smile. Carol was tossing jellybeans into her mouth and sent you a wink when she caught your eyes. Mj was doodling in her sketchbook down the back and waved when she saw you. Yelena and Kate were throwing food at each other which was being eaten by Kate’s dog lucky.

You looked over to Wanda with tears in your eyes. “You did this for me?” You asked gazing around and noticing your favourite movie cued up to play.

“Of course y/n. The boys don’t get to have all the fun.” Wanda grinned and you sniffled.

“Thanks guys. It really means a lot.”

“Anytime boo.” Carol shot you finger guns and a grin.

“Not a problem at all y/n. I love free snacks.” MJ grinned.

“I needed a break.” Pepper sighed.

“Clint’s been driving me crazy, this is the perfect escape.” Kate said and elbowed Yelena from where she was trying to steal her pizza back off lucky.

“Oh… yeah… free pizza and a movie, plus a chance to annoy my favourite sister? Wouldn’t miss it for the world bubs.” Yelena grinned and lunged at the dog who darted out of the way and she landed on Kate who pushed her off.

“It wasn’t that hard. Plus you deserved it.” Wanda said and Nat just placed a tender kiss to your lips leaving the taste of her chapstick she stole from you a month back.

“Ready?” Wanda asked and you nodded as she pressed play.

It was safe to say you had never felt more loved and safe. Life was full of hard times, but without them the good wouldn’t feel so great. You were needed. You were loved.

[ur-girl0]

imagine negan pulling you onto his lap, he brushes a few stray hairs from your face and cups your cheek before giving you a soft kiss and saying smth like,

“just so you know you’re my favorite”

“my pretty, smart, perfect girl”

“all mine”