#we're adding a tag for this ask so i can always find it and that tag is:

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [3]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 8.8k

ao3 is down so I'll update it first here. Chapter got delayed since this wasn't originally part of the roster. its currently 1am so there will be mistakes I missed but that's for future Winter's problem.

edit: please comment if you want to be added to the tag list :DD

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For a guy with his heart on his sleeves and his emotions displayed so loudly on his face like neon signs with gigantic arrows, Taehyung is an enigma.

It didn’t help that he had experience in acting, if anything it made it harder to understand him.

One moment he's supportive of your quest for a perfect husband then another, he's raging with a jealousy even the power of the thousand burning suns couldn't replicate. Even when Guwon has long disappeared, Taehyung didn't stop from hanging off of your arm when the three of you had entered your home. 

In the short time they had stayed over, he made sure he was somehow close to you or having you within his sight while Jimin returned to being the sweet boy he had always presented himself as but the glint of something dark in his eyes never disappeared.

But it didn't make any sense. All of their behaviors, even Jimin, is confusing.

Taehyung had introduced a date to the group before, and had hooked up with a few people from the after-parties if the others’ words were anything to go by. Jimin is the same, although he took every chance to flirt with you at any time and everywhere, you always thought it was him being his playful self. But after last night?

You don't know.

And you hate not knowing.

To find out that Jin still liked you was shocking already, then comes this new realization—along with the impacts of Jungkook’s confession—to knock you off of your feet. You thought he had moved on like he had said years before, but last night's conversation had told you otherwise.

“That's the tenth time I've heard you sigh just this hour alone and we're only drinking coffee, what’s wrong?”

Your head shot up to meet the concerned gaze of the oldest make-up artist. Jihae is one of the original staff back from 2013, the woman who had picked you up when you tripped in front of the BigHit building crying with your bag spilled out, having been given a low grade in one of your subjects. 

They were lacking in staff back then, urgently searching for another body to help with the debut look and when she saw your cosmetic bag, she tugged you inside and told you to agree with whatever they were going to ask. 

Stunned, you followed the woman without question.

A month later, you dropped out of the nursing course your mother had insisted you take and pursued cosmetology.

Many times have you looked back at the memory and grimaced. It could've gone wrong, she might've been leading you into a trafficking ring but nonetheless, you're glad you had accepted it.

All because Jihae had seen you with mascara-stained tears and somehow deemed you skilled enough for the job. Up until today, you still wonder what she had seen in an emotional teenager who had comically tripped face-first in the company’s front yard, mascara running down her face and thought: ‘She’d be a good addition’. 

Whatever it is, you're thankful. 

“Hey, you still with us?”

Snapping out of your trance, you wearily smiled at her. “Yes I am, unnie. Just frustrated about something...”

At this, multiple heads turned to you, their stares a varying mix of curiosity and teasing. Suddenly reminded of the group lunch Jihae had proposed that day, a bonding exercise for the entire make-up artists roster, for better teamwork, she had said and internally facepalmed. You had forgotten that it wasn't just your friends sitting on the table with you and you had just aired your problem out in the open for them to hear.

Fuck Kim Taehyung and his confusing attitude. You should beat his ass next time you see him for being the catalyst to the dilemma haunting your mind.

Leaning closer to you, Nabi—another friend of yours—crossed her arms and flashed a shit-eating grin.

“Is it boy problems?”

Instantly, the table explodes into chatters, all of their questions drowning each other.

“Which one of them?”

“Did someone from Bangtan confess to you, unnie?”

“Is it Hoseok? Please say it is! I have a bet with someone from the styling department.”

“Was it Taehyung? I always thought he had a crush on you for a whi—”

“It's not any of them, please we're just friends.” You interjected before they dig further and find truth in their questions. “It's a different guy I've had two dates with.”

Never had you sounded more unsure of yourself until now and you had wished nobody had noticed. But one look around the table says differently. Your friends’ eyes glinted, all of them telling you that this discussion was far from over and you find yourself already dreading opening the groupchat once you're home. But unlike them, someone wasn't satisfied with your answer and crossed her arms from the other end of the table.

“Why so dismissive, unnie? We're all friends here, no need to be so defensive.”

Immediately, the ones closest to her snapped their heads at her with a scandalized look. Alexa was a new recruit, A half-Korean and half-Chinese who lived in the States for a better half of her life, had just joined the week before the first leg when one of the crew went into labor and had recommended her cousin as her last minute replacement until she could return.

In the short time she had been in the company, there had been whispers and none of them were positive. Rumors of an unhealthy obsession hidden beneath the skillfully applied make-up that granted her a younger and cuter appearance, hushed stories of their encounters where she'd reveal her soulmate mark—inked initials, and written on her wrist is a K.S.J, something she boasted around with a smug look, as if to imply something you refuse to entertain.

It was absurd. 

Seokjin was untethered, if he got a soulmate mark out in the open, he would've screamed it on top of the world. Delighted and in cloud nine at the thought of having someone destined for him. Not to mention, it meant that he didn't need to go through any of the shit you've gone through, going through dates after dates looking for someone better to settle down with only to be met with constant disappointment at the end of the day.

(You'd also be the first to know. He would've ran to you and asked if you manifested a mark too, but for your sanity, you pushed the thought at the back of your head as soon as it came.)

To say, to imply that Seokjin’s soulmate is the kid on the side of the table, it almost made you grimace.

“Hey Alexa, I know you're just new and a foreigner but that doesn't mean we'd let you disrespect your seniors!” Minhyuk, someone who had quickly wormed into your friend group last year, had jumped to your defense.

Alexa scoffed. “I'm just saying, no need to be so secretive, unnie. Everyone in this table knows how close Bangtan is to you. Everyone is wondering if you've at least dated one of them.”

“Hey Alexa, that's a bit…”

“Why are you guys looking at me like that? I'm just saying what you're all thinking,” She looks back at you. “I've seen how they look at you, surely you've at least had a fling with someone.”

Your brows shot up, incredulous and shocked by her audacity but before you could bite back, Minhyuk stood abruptly, face darkened with pure unadulterated anger.

“Oh this—” Nabi and you were quick to tug him back down to sit. 

At the commotion, everyone in the cafeteria shifted their attention to your table, inquisitive and curious of what might've set off the resident social butterfly, someone who everyone knows the name of and has been at the end of his constant kindness.

Minhyuk is a passionate soul, especially towards his job and friends. Having been kicked out for being himself, he turned to the very skill that had his father screaming expletives at him. Recommended by Jihae, who had been visiting a nearby friend at the time and was passing by his street, had found him crying in the rain, outside the gate of his family house. She had taken him home and the rest was history.

There's never been a time when you've all hung out, five emptied bottles of Sojus later, where he wouldn't be crying, thankful for the chance your eldest had given him before turning to you, sobbing loudly and hugging you and the rest of the group in a tight grip. Heart full of gratefulness for his new found family.

So there was no shock that he had been the first one to jump at the first sign of aggression towards your group.

“Everyone is looking, hyuk. Let's calm down.” Nabi whispered to him, eyes cautious and Minhyuk grunted.

“She's lucky we're in public, I would've torn her down for that comment.”

At the end of the table, Alexa scoffed, incredulous. “Are you seriously mad that I'm saying my opinion? Is it a crime to express their own opinion these days?”

“Not when it's as rude as yours.”

Jihae sighs. “Calm down the both of you. Remember that you're working right now.”

You didn't doubt that everyone in the company has speculated about your relationship with Bangtan. It's hard not to when the maknaes hang onto your words and comfortably play around with you, especially not when you have dinner at their dorm every other week so you didn't blame the newbie for being curious.

That's what you would've felt if she hadn't been going around planting ideas into people's heads that she might be Jin’s soulmate like the delusional slug she is.

You had half a mind to loosen your grip on Minhyuk and let him wipe the floor with her unnecessarily expensive work clothes.

Shrugging both your and Nabi’s arms from his, Minhyuk stands up again only to walk away from the table. Instantly, the rest of your group follows him as he marches through the gathered crowd in the cafeteria and in front of the closed elevator.

You trailed behind him, waiting for his eventual frustrated explosion as he always does after an encounter with Alexa since she was hired. Once you were all far enough, hidden away from the prying eyes of the public, he threw his head back and let out a loud, exasperated groan.

“That girl I fucking swear!” He growled as combed his long hair back. “Why did we even let her continue working after the tour?! We could've just found a better alternative, she's getting into my fucking nerves!”

Nabi sighed. “It's not like we have a final say in this, hyuk. Whether you like it or not, we'll be stuck with her until Hyuna comes back.”

“God,” He groaned. “You should've let me hit her once! I'm so tired of hearing her bullshit! Surely, you've heard the lie she's spreading around right?!”

“Like Nabi has said, we can't do anything unless it starts to hurt the reputation of the idol. She's smart for not saying it outright and somehow containing it within the styling departments.” Jihae responds with a defeated shake of her head.

The answer didn't satisfy Minhyuk, who then turned to you with a pout and wide puppy eyes before promptly stomping over and taking both your hands in his.

“Surely you can pull some strings, noona? Tattle off to Namjoon hyung or Seokjin hyung, surely one of them would do something, right?”

You almost considered his suggestion. Alexa had been grating your gears ever since she arrived to replace Hyuna. You had excused her lack of cooperation with the team for being a newbie and clumsy mistakes of haphazardly leaving her items everywhere for the stress of the new environment she was suddenly put in. But for her to go around implying Seokjin is her soulmate is another can of worms you didn't even want to open.

The mere thought of her existing on the same floor as Seokjin invokes an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

But unfortunately, even if you had tattled to Namjoon about her, nothing would happen since it's not too drastic of an event to fire someone over for. It's also just not a good idea overall. The tour is set next Wednesday and while Alexa doesn't cooperate with most of the team, she unfortunately got the skill to back her up. Her skills nearly compensate for her rude personality.

Almost.

“They won't fire someone over a small argument, Hyuk. Just suck it in until Hyuna returns.”

“Which will be in December after Japan,” He mulls it over before shaking his head. “Yeah no, I don't think I can tolerate her nasty ass that long.”

The elevator opens—Jihae had called it the moment they've arrived, bless her—and everyone piles in. It was a quick ride, the stylists being on the floor below the cafeteria. In a flash the metal doors parts opened and you all walked out. But before you could follow your friends back into your department, your phone vibrated from your pocket.

Slowing down, you pulled the device out and looked at who's texting you.

           [13:02] Hobi: can ask you a favor            [13:02] Hobi: just an itsy bitsy favor 🤏🤏            [13:02] Hobi: I promise it's harmless😁

There's also a text from Guwon not too long ago. Something you missed while you were lost in your thoughts earlier.

           [12:30] Guwon: Eat your lunch soon!            [13:03] You: hi sorry late reply, I was having lunch with my co-workers, couldn’t use my phone during.            [13:03] You: I hope your lunch was good😁

You grimaced at how robotic your reply sounded before returning to Hoseok who had sent another text.

           [13:03] Hobi: don't leave me on seen please😢            [13:03] Hobi: noona noona noona noona noona            [13:04] You: hoba hoba hoba hoba hoba            [13:04] Hobi: YAY            [13:04] You: how can I help you?            [13:05] Hobi: can you deliver lunch to hyung?😁            [13:05] Hobi: I would do it myself but I'm currently helping Seokjin hyung and Namjoon with the dance            [13:06] Hobi: and we both know Yoongi hyung wouldn't eat on time if I do it            [13:06] Hobi: can you do it for me?🥺            [13:06] You: sure, you guys still in the dance practice room?            [13:07] Hobi: ur a life saver            [13:07] Hobi: an angel in disguise            [13:07] Hobi: but yes😁            [13:08] Hobi: just knock on the door when you're here😁

“Y/N?” Jihae asks and you look back up to see your group waiting for you.

“Who is it?” Nabi adds.

“Better be news of Alexa getting fired. If not, I don't want to hear it.” Minhyuk says as he crosses his arms. You shook your head and he threw his hands up in frustration.

“Got asked to help with something but I'll be back in a moment.”

With a brief goodbye, you turned back to the elevator and directed yourself to the floor where the dance practice rooms are at. 

The walking distance from the elevator is not too far from the dance room but seeing five familiar teenage boys speaking in hushed whispers and hitting each other's arms in front of the vending machine just a feet away from the door easily distracted you.

If they had been crowding around the machine, you would've thought they were fighting over the last snack but instead they were all facing the same direction as your destination.

Sneaking up to the five giants, you're slowly introduced to the dilemma they were hitting and pushing each other for.

“You're the oldest, you should go and knock!”

“Just because I'm the oldest doesn't mean I should always be the first! Why are you even ordering me around?! Go ask Huening Kai instead!”

“Why me? I can't talk in Korean, I-I’m foreigner.”

“Oh don't you pull that shit on us. How are you only a foreigner when it matters?!”

“What are we talking about?”

Three shrill screams pierced through the air as the five of them jumped back, awkwardly long bodies falling against and clutching onto each other for dear life, all of them huddling onto the next body for protection. But once they recognize you, Yeonjun immediately regains composure and breaks off from the cluster to stomp over to you with his bottom lip jut out as he dramatically latches onto your arm.

“Noonaa, why would you scare us like that?!”

When you first met Yeonjun, he was standing in front of the cafeteria bar in front of the exhausted cashier and the long irritated line of workers, peering up onto the menu before looking down to count his money. He looked like a little kid lost in the sea of busy adults, painfully alone and helpless as the hungry customers behind him began to complain loudly.

He had been holding up the line as he recounted his change once more, hoping he had miscounted and that he could afford what he was eyeing. Seeing his hopeful expression crumble into defeat was enough to make you approach him and buy him lunch. 

Yoongi had teased you when he found you being trailed by another kid, saying you were collecting every doe eyed kid in the company and becoming their reliable older sister. Especially when his soulmates began to follow his footsteps.

“What were you guys doing? Fighting against who gets the last chip?”

Beomgyu then ran to wrap his arms around yours, the sweetest and most innocent smile plastered on his face as the two boys began to walk you forward, the destination? The dance studio.

“You know that we love you right, noona?”

Why these kids are genuinely intimidated by your sweet Hoba is beyond you. The man screams and flinches at the smallest of bugs daring to exist two feet away from him. Still, you entertained them with a raise of an eyebrow and Yeonjun continued.

“Our favorite make-up noona, the greatest sister figure we have ever had, my savior and my salvation, our dearest credit—”

“Okay, what do you guys want?”

You all stopped in front of the dance room door. IDOL was blasting on the other side of the wall, the floor vibrating with the beat. Although muffled, you could pick up the sound of shoes squeaking against the floor and heavy footsteps accompanying the song.

“Could you pretty please knock on the door?” Beomgyu asks, pleading and also hopeful and the rest of his brothers chimed from behind you with their own versions of the request which ended up sounding like a bunch of warbled words.

“Couldn't you have done that yourselves?”

“But they're busy and J-Hope sunbae is scary.” Taehyun quietly adds behind you.

“Hoba? He's the sweetest though?”

“Okay, let's not lie to ourselves now,” Huening Kai shoots back before motioning to the door. “Just… knock and we'll handle it from there. We promise!”

“Cross our hearts.” Taehyun says, drawing a cross over his chest. The other four follow.

Dance teacher Hoseok to you is a hoax. You've never been subjected to his intense scrutiny and harsh perfectionist side, always managing to slip past or only being able to meet him outside of the workplace where he'd be far relaxed and cheerful. 

Sure there's been plenty of photographic and recorded evidence posted in the group chat but you still find it hard to believe he's more frightening than the bugs that scare him off the room.

“He's not that scary, guys.”

Taehyun scoffs. “Easy for you to say.”

“Crush privileges.” Soobin quietly adds.

“What—”

The door swings open before you could ask what he meant and Jungkook steps out of the room. 

In a span of a second, the memories of his drunken confession flashed before your eyes. From the moment he had entered your home with bags of snacks to the way his voice had sounded, hushed and shaky, when he asked you for a kiss.

Seeing him again outside the concert where Namjoon and Yoongi had made sure there were no contacts between the two of you, evoked a weird sense of longing within you. Having absolutely no contact with Jungkook for two days had you missing and recollecting your past memories with him. In the short amount of time you've been away, you wondered about many things.

From something as headache-inducing variations of hows and whys questioning his attraction to you to something more simple and short like ‘how is he feeling right now?’.

It was a dumb question with an obvious answer yet you wanted to know. Curiosity and anxiety clawing at your chest. 

Is your friendship still okay? 

Did rejecting someone this time finally ruin your entire dynamic with the group? 

Should you have chosen someone like your sister had told you to do? 

They have plagued your mind and haunted you in your waking days yet the moment you finally see him, your mouth dries up and your voice dies in your throat.

But before you could even muster the courage to talk to him, he turned his attention to the boys who had retreated behind you the moment the door opened and greeted them with a short bow before walking away, completely ignoring you. Pain blooms in your chest like a thorned vine wrapping and strangling your heart tighter and tighter as you watch his back disappear around the corner.

“Did sunbae just ignore noona?”

“Is that even possible?”

“I didn't hallucinate that, right?”

“Noona, are you okay?” Soobin’s concerned voice, soft and cautious, brings you back to reality and you turn to them, a precariously built smile on your face.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The five shared a look as you stepped into the studio, exposing you to the two figures laid on the floor, heaving and panting. The main topics of your thoughts were sitting at the far corner next to the black plastic table while Hoseok stood in the middle of the room, unaffected by whatever had happened and was chugging the water from the small bottle in hand.

As if he had grown a sixth sense for you, he suddenly spun around, a wide grin brightening his stern face.

“Noona!”

At this, the two men on the floor perks up. Namjoon merely waves before promptly dropping back down, Jimin and Taehyung only smiled at you, looking spent from whatever routine Hoseok had them do before turning to the two tallest. Seokjin had pushed himself up to stand and approach the black plastic table from the other end of the room where a dozen take outs were.

As Hoseok approached you, his gaze then found the cluster of five heads peeking through the sides of the entrance and laughed.

“You’ve got five ducklings following you, noona, didn't know you started collecting more after our maknaes.” He jokes before turning to the teens and waving them over. The group then spread to occupy the space in the doorway and bowed. “What can I do for you guys?”

They suddenly disappear behind the wall but you hear them hitting each other and their whisper-shouts, it took a long while before Soobin was pushed out of the shadow and forced to talk to their sunbae. The painfully shy teen shuffles over, shoulders folded forward and taking the smallest of steps forward before stuttering a bow.

A wide smile brightens Hoseok's face, endeared by the boy’s overly formal actions.

“H-Hi sunbae.”

“Hello, Soobinie.”

“We-we we're just wondering if we-we could watch you guys? Practicing dancing I mean—Not that you sunbaes need it cause you're professionals!—I mean of course you still need to practice to be better at dancing and—wait no—”

“Yah Soobin, stop embarrassing us like this!” Yeonjun scolds and immediately, the boy almost broke his neck with how face he looked over his shoulder.

“Then go do it yourself!”

“We don't mind, as long as you guys stay in a corner like good kids then we'll all be good!” Hoseok cuts in before an argument ensues.

There's a tap on your shoulder and you look over to see Seokjin standing behind you, a gentle smile playing on his plush lips, both hands hidden behind him.

There's an awkwardness that hung in the air as you both gazed into each other's eyes before he cleared his throat and began.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes.” You lie. Jin caught it.

Turning to face him fully, he then takes one of your hands and forces your fingers to hold the neatly folded top of a paper takeout bag.

“I've packed Yoongi’s portion here as well as an extra for you.”

“You didn't need to, I already ate.”

“I even had them order some soft tofu soup, you were craving it last week, right?”

It was sweet being loved so selflessly by him. It tasted like the sweetest nectar from the garden of Eden with a foul aftertaste once your mind reminded you of your sins against the man and the thorned tendrils of guilt coiled tighter around your chest, its sourness easily overlapping the sweetness of his love.

After Jungkook pretending you didn't exist earlier, having Jin, someone who you didn't even know still admired you all these years while you had messed around with many faces and came to work with some of their marks on your skin, expressing his care had you almost bursting at the seams. 

It enrages you thinking about Alexa going around spreading her bullshit spiel about being Jin’s soulmate. As if she deserved a morsel of his attention.

Nobody deserves Seokjin, not even you.

“Thank you Jinnie, but I already ate.” You then remembered your promise to return to your friends soon. “And Jihae is expecting me back immediately.”

“Coffee and toast is not lunch.” He deadpans as he takes your hand and forces it to close around the pack. “Just eat it with Yoongi, he'd be happy to be able to eat with someone and I’ll handle Jihae noona.”

“How the hell did you know what I had for lunch?”

Shock crossed over his face and he brought a hand over his mouth. “I was right? I just had a hunch on what you ate.”

“That’s a bit creepy, old man.”

“Maybe it’s a soulmate mark manifesting.” He shrugs but you doubt he meant it in a joking way.

“You’re way past the age, give it up hyung.” 

You both turned to the door at Jungkook’s voice. Like earlier, he had strode in without acknowledging your presence, something Seokjin had noticed immediately. His eyes slid to the five boys tentatively pushing each other to the empty corner of the studio before looking back at their youngest.

“How could you insult me like this? I fed you with my hands, you should be addressing me formally with a full 90° bow!” 

“I should’ve bitten your hands at least once back then.” Jungkook jokingly muses.

Before you could witness their banter explode, there’s a tug on your shirt and you spun around to face Hoseok who had nudged his head to the door. Jin had already marched towards the maknae before you could even thank him so you left.

Once you were both outside the studio, Hoseok closed the door behind and hugged you.

“Wh-what is this?”

“A thank you hug for being the sacrifice and feeding the grumpy dragon instead.” He says with a laugh but you knew what he was trying to do. 

“I’m fine, Hoba. I didn’t expect us to be buddy buddy again after what happened.”

He sighed.

“He still shouldn’t have done that. I’m sure Seokjin hyung will talk to him about it later.”

Stepping back, you shook your head. “No need, I understand why he’s acting like that.”

His eyes regarded your face for a moment before pulling you back in for a hug and nuzzling his head on top of yours. “You don’t have to defend him noona, he’s acting like a child. It's our duty as his hyungs to fix that up.”

“Please don’t. It feels like you’re taking sides, he might think it's unfair.”

He laughs. “Are you kidding? ‘Cause from what I’m seeing, he’s being a petulant child. He should handle the rejection with more grace when it's his fault he’s in this predicament. You know Seokjin hyung warned him, right?”

“He told me when he and Tae took him home.”

“Then you should know better than defend him.” You opened your mouth to refute but he pressed a finger to your lips. “Don't start. He's not the same sixteen years old we had to raise back then, he needs correcting.”

With two hands on your shoulders, he then spun you around and began to push you towards the elevator, leaving no room for an argument. 

Once he had led you back to the locomotive, he briefly stepped in to push the correct button for the production floor and stepped back and waved as the elevator wall slowly closed to a shut.

“Now go feed hyung and yourself before you go back to work. Thank you again noona and see you later.

“Special delivery for a grumpy hairless cat!”

A beat.

Then came a grumbled: “Come in.”

Punching the proper strings of numbers on the door code, you open the door to the genius lab to find Yoongi sitting in front of his computer, one ear off of his headphones as he goes back to a specific second again and again.

Situating yourself on the couch next to the door, you place the paper bag on the coffee table and slowly unload all its contents, hoping its smell is enough to deter him from his work just for a second.

Taking one of the containers, you open it to see bulgogi generously sprinkled on top of rice. The savory smell of the dish wafting out almost immediately, and Yoongi visibly perks up from his table; if perking up meant him temporarily stopping his incessant clicking and head tilting a little to the side.

“Is it all bulgogi?”

Placing down the container, you opened the other one to reveal the same dish except this time with fried rice.

“Yeah, you want fried rice or no?”

“Whatever you like less.” He grumbled as he returned to his work.

“That's not a proper answer.”

“Just take whatever you want, I like either.” He muttered.

Staring at the food on the table, you found yourself at a crossroads. The fried rice looks more appetizing than the plain white rice on the other container but you've had enough sodium for the week, having challenged Taehyung, Jimin and Jin to who can eat more ramyeon in one sitting the day before the concert.

But today just doesn't feel like a plain rice type of day. 

But fried rice isn't healthy.

“Just choose please, I don't know what I want either.” You groaned out, frustrated.

With a grunt, the man took off his headphones and turned to face you before maneuvering himself closer to the table and picking up the container with the plain rice.

“Stop thinking so much about what is healthy or not,” He remarked as he took a pair of chopsticks from the paper bag. “I could hear your thoughts even with my headphones on and my back turned.”

“Then why tell me to choose if you already knew?”

Yoongi only shrugged as he took his first bite, prompting you to take yours. He seems to mull over something as he chews, staring at the food on the table for a while before placing the container down and leaving the room without a word.

You had learned not to question his confusing actions throughout the years, even then you couldn't help but be bewildered.

When he returned, he was carrying two drinks in one hand. Sprite and Kombucha. Settling back on his chair, he placed down the bottle of Kombucha in front of him before opening the can of sprite and placing it in front of you.

“I don't have any straws on me so you'll have to just chug it.”

People don't usually notice it but you think Jin and Yoongi are more similar in how they show their affections, just in different volumes. Seokjin’s care is always voiced out, always asking whether you want something or not and offering to do or make it for you while Yoongi just somehow always knows what you want and does it wordlessly. Both of them are always willing to provide.

If you had asked them for something as ludicrous as fried cotton candy with melted cheese on top, Jin would complain and express his disgust openly, ranting about the strenuous process while holding the handle of the pan and a spatula in the other while Yoongi would cook it without questioning your sanity.

Either way, it never fails to make your chest warm.

“Thank you, Yoongs.”

He suddenly takes a huge bite, bringing the container close to his face before humming out his response, easily flustered as ever.

You both eat your food in silence. With years of friendship under your belt, you have learned to enjoy the serenity Yoongi brings. It had been rough at the start, his quietness matched with his stoic expression had often led to misunderstandings where you often thought he thinks of you badly for being close to his brothers, especially after Jin’s confession.

He had confronted you once he heard it from Namjoon—who had immediately tattled onto his hyung after you had told him not to tell anyone—, saying he simply had problems expressing himself. You could remember how his hands, despite being entangled with each other, shook with his voice, could recall how he had forced himself to hold eye contact with you when he always had difficulties in holding one.

It was thoughtful and that was the first time you had felt the tingles of warmth in your chest. Teenage you had her feet swept off by a stuttering mess of a guy with eye contact issues.

Despite Jin being the first in the group to confess, Yoongi was the first to touch your heart.

“Why are you looking at me like that?’

You tilt your head. “Like what?”

A conflict of emotion crossed his eyes as he struggled to find the words but before he could, your phone vibrated from your pocket.

           [13:54] Guwon: I'm at the cafe close to your building

You almost choked on your spit, surprised by his message and Yoongi hurriedly put his food down to pat your back. His office was on the other side of the city, why would he drive so far just to get some coffee with you during work days? 

Love, a voice answers and you immediately waved it off.

There was no way he had fallen in love with you in such a short time. You have been on two dates with him yet he hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend when there's been multiple times throughout those days and nights he had the chance to do so.

During nights where you'd restlessly toss around on your bed, you found yourself facing one more problem outside of your friends.

You didn't notice when it started when Guwon began to make your stomach churn and it bothers you to the nines at how you were being suspicious of him.

Guwon is a genuinely nice guy with a legit and grand background from what you learned throughout the short time you've been hanging out, his case stories of helping out women stuck in abusive relationships and bringing justice to those the law has failed once proven true when you've typed his name on Naver. The man didn't deserve the doubt twisting in your stomach nor the aversion you were slowly gaining towards him.

Your conflicting feelings surrounding your friends' confessing and odd behaviors shouldn't be affecting your relationship with the man you will marry at some point yet it ended up doing so.

There was something foul and bitter simmering in your guts these days whenever you force yourself to think about him during your time. It burns like bile and tasted like betrayal, almost like unfaithfulness; you try not to think hard on why you feel this way but it's hard not to when Jimin and Taehyung's jealousy keeps flashing behind your eyelids with every blink.

           [13:55] You: Oh wow, which one?            [13:55] Guwon: The one on the left side, Areum Cafe.            [13:55] Guwon: Are you free to get a cup of coffee with me?            [13:56] Guwon: Sorry for springing this up on you            [13:55] Guwon: I missed you🙁

“Who is it?”

“It's Guwon,” You say, scratching your head. “He says he's at the cafe down the road and wants to meet up.”

Yoongi placed down his food and stared at you, long and hard. Cat-like eyes narrowed and observing as he leaned back on his chair. You feel his eyes regard your body language before sighing.

“I assume you need help getting out? I'm not as… bold as the younger ones but I think I can help… somehow”

His appearance would surely help tamper down the discomfort that had bloomed with the recent revelations. Yoongi is intimidating as he is caring, having him next to you would ensure you a shorter time spent with the man, as well as prohibit him from pulling another surprise kiss on you.

But why are you so uncomfortable spending time with Guwon anyways?

You didn't have any problems before, even wanted to sleep with him the night prior so why now?

“How’d you know I need help?”

“You looked like your mother just told you to come to another date.”

Immediately, you ironed out the frown you didn't realize had marred your face. 

“I thought you would've been delighted you've finally met your match?”

“I-I am.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, the sound echoing louder in the silence of the room. “Try again. A little more sure this time.”

You sighed and relented, knowing the man wouldn't let you take a step out of the door if you lied to him again.

“Everything just started feeling wrong for some reason.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, eyes widening with surprise. “How so?”

“You know, when Jimin and Taehyung came over last night to make sure I got home safe, they were acting strange towards Guwon.” When he made no move to respond, you continued. “When Guwon suddenly kissed me, Taehyung looked… scary. Jimin too, if you can believe it.”

“I actually do.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Yoongi goes silent again, mulling over something as his gaze finally met yours for the first time that day. “For someone so perceptive, you're a bit oblivious.”

“What is it?”

“I won't elaborate, I'll let you realize things on your own.”

You groaned, facepalming because ain't no way Yoongi just added more fuel to the forest fire that is your thoughts. The man doesn’t even look aware of what his words had done, reaching over and innocently sipping on his kombucha once more.

“Back to what you were saying, why do you think it felt wrong to see Guwon?”

With his calm voice and the deafening silence of the room, you found yourself comparing Yoongi, who even has his hands folded over his crossed jean-clad legs, to a therapist and laughed.

“Didn’t know I was due for a therapy session when I dropped off your lunch.”

“Well I did, so deal with it,” He placed down his bottle. “Do you need my help or not?”

“Is breathing important? Obviously yes.”

He nods and stands, but not before saying, “I hope you know this conversation is far from over.”

While his presence had given you more peace of mind, leaving the BigHit building with Yoongi—who had forgone his usual outdoor style of beanies and big prescription glasses matched with a black mask in order to appear more intimidating, claiming the beanie softens his edges, something you playfully rolled your eyes at—still felt like walking into your doom.

The moment he steps out of the building, suddenly everyone's eyes are on him. The cool stoicness surrounding him commanded attention and the people listened without complaint, not when Yoongi looked like every highschool teenager's bad boy wet dreams.

Strolling into the cafe is easier with Yoongi trailing behind you like a guard dog; or in his case, a guard panther.

There's something about having the rapper, who has never shown a hint of romantic attraction to you in all your years being their friend, accompanying you to meet the man you might marry once the discomfort born from conflicting feelings subsides. It makes your heart jittery and your stomach twisting uncomfortably, the nerves from meeting Guwon only adding fuel to the fire.

It felt improper somehow, as if you were breaking an invisible rule you're yet to uncover from the depths of your soul.

The tempting aroma of freshly baked buttery goods and roasted coffee beans greeted you the moment Yoongi had pushed the door open for the both of you. In the controlled volume of mixed chatters from different tables, a calm acoustic instrumental flies through the air and you almost forgot what you came here for. 

It didn't take long for you to find Guwon sitting on the table farthest from the entrance, secluded and away from the wide glass pane windows. When the door had opened with a chime, the man had raised his head from his phone and met your eyes. You try not to linger on how his expression stiffened when he realized you had Yoongi in tow before a smile wipes it away.

“You see him?” Yoongi’s voice grumbled from behind and you nod. Guwon stands, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor catching his attention. “That him?”

“Yeah, I don't think he's happy I brought you with me.”

He chuckled lightly. “Good.”

Guwon met you both halfway, arms opened wide to greet you with a hug and you let him. When you pull away, his hand casually falls to your waist and your skin scrawls. 

Immediately, Yoongi’s eyes drop to look at it but before any hint of emotion breaks onto his face, his cool eyes are already back on your suitor’s face.

“Which one of your kids am I given the pleasure of meeting this time?” Guwon asks before offering his free hand to Yoongi who had taken it with a carefully crafted blank expression and unrelenting stare.

Seeing him remain in eye contact with Guwon surprises you. The man, even after your years of being friends, had never held eye contact for longer than five seconds outside the time he had opened up to you about his struggle with expressing himself.

It made you curious. Why is he provoking him? Is he testing Guwon?

“I'm not one of her kids, I'm actually older than her. Min Yoongi.”

“Yoo Guwon, a pleasure to meet you.”

Even when both their hands had long pulled away from each other, their eyes lingered longer. Challenging on Guwon's part, and taunting on Yoongi's as he stared back, completely unfazed.

Seeing them silently engage in a dick measuring contest, something you didn’t expect Yoongi to ever partake in since he had been loud in his distaste for his own gender, irked you. The tightening grip on your waist didn't help, wanting nothing but to slap it off if it wasn't for your promise to your mother to not fuck this up.

‘If you don't tell them what you're uncomfortable with, then they'll continue on doing it. The other guys out there aren't like us who'd feel guilty if we knew, I fear that they might take advantage of you instead, noona.’ Hobi’s voice echoes in your mind.

Sorry Hoba, I'm trying to make this work. But if this behavior continues, then I'll listen to you.

“I thought you idols are often more busy than the average folk?”

Yoongi sucks air through his teeth before responding. “We were in the middle of a fitting prior. I hope you don't mind me keeping watch, can't have our staff getting distracted by heartthrobs like you.”

Guwon laughed, a little louder than usual.

“She's been telling you guys about me?”

“All the good things, don't worry.” He then turns to you, eyes searching your face for a hint of extreme discomfort before continuing. “I'll go order the others some food.”

Sparing one last nod of his head at the man next to you, Yoongi then turns towards the counter to order. The moment he was out of earshot, dread drops onto your stomach like an anvil and you looked up at the Guwon whose eyes were already trained onto yours, a lazy smile stretched on his lips.

“I assume you’ll be needed back once he’s done?”

“ Yeah, I’m sorry it's just… Wrong timing.”

He waves you off. “Nonsense, it’s my fault for bringing you out of your work. They won’t fine you for this, right?”

“I went with one of my bosses, of course they won’t.”

His eyes studied your face for a moment, searching. For what? You don’t want to know. When he had found whatever it was, his face melts into a softer, more mellow expression and your heart clenches. The outpouring of awe in his eyes felt heavy and thick, it clogs up your throat and weighs your already strained form.

“I missed you.” He whispers with the sweetest of voices. “Did you miss me?”

“I-I do, kept thinking about you...”

The lie weighted like lead on your tongue and burned like acid. Compared to the genuineness practically dripping from his lips, your words fall short in your ears. With the way his softened expression crumpled into a frown, you knew he also noticed the hesitance in your voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. With the tour being so close and more sponsorship offers coming in, it got a bit stressful than usual.”

When his arms reach around your shoulders and pull you flush to his chest, you will yourself not to tense. You were both hugging in the middle of the coffee shop and you could feel the nearby patrons’ stare pressing onto your body, judging and unpleasant. Embarrassment burns your cheeks and the desire to push him away grows.

Even Jimin and Taehyung doesn’t dare to get affectionate in public, none of your friends ever did anything more than a hand on your shoulder to lead you to the correct direction or a pat on the back when Jungkook had more sleep and food ingested, and was bouncing off the walls and you just happen to be assigned to him.

You wanted nothing more but to tell him to back off but the words got stuck in your throat. 

“Just a tip, she doesn’t like PDA so maybe step away?”

Immediately, Guwon scrambles off of you. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Guwon says, his hand falling from your shoulder and down to your arm. You shivered.

A firm and familiar hand lands on your shoulder before Yoongi tugs you back to stand next to him. There’s a set in jaw as his eyes narrowed down at Guwon, the hand replacing Guwon on your arm is tense and rigid but not enough to hurt. 

You sensed that he had a lot to say once you were out of sight, all of them expressing his distaste for the man you’re set to eventually marry. Even when you were all standing there, you could already imagine the curses and nitpicked details pouring out of his lips.

“We’ll be going back now,” Yoongi says to Guwon, voice tight as if holding back his emotions as he curtly bowed. “Our leader is already demanding us to come back so we’ll have to cut this meeting short. It was nice meeting you.”

Guwon looked incredulous at the turn of events, eyes shuttering before he nodded in understanding and turned to flash a smile at you.

“Message me when you’re home, alright?”

Yoongi didn’t even linger long enough for you to respond, already walking away. By the time you turned to look at him, he was three gaits away from leaving the coffee shop. With a dip of your head, you sprint to follow closely behind the man now pushing through the door. 

You could understand the reason for his irritation, always the most protective out of the bunch and the one with the most to say about men. To see your closest female friend be made uncomfortable by her suitor, a stranger in his eyes, there was no doubt he’d be livid.

But why does he have to walk so fast?! 

You’re not physically built to match his pace, he takes one step and you have to do three. It was infuriating but you couldn’t exactly scream at him to slow down in public, catching the attention of other people would only create more problems than you both could take on.

He eventually slows down to a halt in front of the double glass doors of the BigHit building and you were able to finally catch up to him. In the lobby, you both calmly approached the elevator, a complete juxtaposition of how hasty you two were not a moment before. 

But the moment the metal doors of the elevator shuts, isolating you and Yoongi from the rest, he begins.

“I don’t like him.”

It was stupid but you wanted to know what specific trait he had found irksome.

(Deep down, you knew you were finding a reason to stop, to let go of Guwon and stop this stupid charade.)

“He didn’t even notice you were uncomfortable earlier. When you told us that he’s good, I thought he’d be decent, not top grade bare minimum.”

“H-He was actually good, believe it or not.”

“So he's a pretentious prick?”

You sighed. “H-He just—”

“Hyung wouldn't approve.” Yoongi cuts in, his hardened eyes now piercing through yours, almost taunting you to bite back. “Not just him, everyone wouldn't. You'd break poor Jiminie’s heart if you continued seeing him once he found out how he acted today.”

You knew he was guilt tripping you and it was working. But you swore Guwon was better than the others, he had treated you with a gentleness and care your friends had shown yet something had changed after that night. 

Was Taehyung's clinginess, their presence in general, been the catalyst?

Had he felt threatened by them showing up? You had established early on that they're your boss and your mother would've mentioned your relationship with the boys in passing at least, so why would he feel threatened by them?

“I know what you're thinking but it doesn't work like that.” His voice, now softer than it had been earlier, pierces through the trance you’ve submerged into. “Even if you had said you’re only friends with them, it's human nature for us to still feel intimidated even if we're just friends.”

“That's dumb.”

He shrugged. “Men are dumb, I'm just slightly better than the rest.”

“That's debatable.” You joked and he raised an eyebrow.

“Your taste is questionable.” He shot back and you hit his arm in response, making him laugh but it dissolves as fast as it came. “I'm serious, hyung won't like it if you continue meeting Guwon.”

“I know, I can already hear him and we're not even there yet.”

“Don’t be dumb, if you want a husband so bad, tell aunt to wait for us to renew our contract this October then I'll marry you.” 

He meant it as a joke, you knew that, but you couldn't stop the butterflies in your stomach from fluttering wildly. You're suddenly reminded of a scene from years ago, his alcohol-flushed cheeks pulled taut by the dopey smile stretching his lips wide and his slurred voice admitting something you—until today—have no recollection of what had been uttered.

You both have been battered to the nines, drunken out of your minds and stumbling over the smallest rocks on the street by the time Seokjin and Namjoon had found you halfway home. It was a miracle you both got off unscathed with how giggly and dumbed down you both were.

“Bold of you to assume I'd say yes.”

“I got wealth, I got a good mug on me, what else would you need?”

“Seokjin also got those.”

He pondered long and hard, sucking air through his teeth before he turned to you again with a glint in his eyes.

“You know what they say about my tongue right?”

He couldn’t say he didn’t expect the punch in the arm that followed soon after.

When the elevator door opens and you both go straight for the dance studio, the conversation about Guwon is put on pause and you dread the moment Seokjin hears what had transpired in the coffee shop when suddenly, Yoongi stills and hissed out a curse.

“Shit, I forgot Jungkook’s muffins.”

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 6 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 4.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, mentions of adult themes (e.g., sex), this chapter is pretty light-hearted imo, the calm before the storm or so they say, buckle up for the ending!!!

a/n. we're 2/3 of the way, y'all! as the series nears its end, i'd love to hear about what reading it has been like for you! my replies, reblogs, and asks are always open <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter—it was a blast to write!

links. masterlist, ao3

The sound of wind chimes echoes throughout the crowded room, albeit slightly drowned out by the busy chatter of customers and waiters alike, coupled with the clanging noises emanating from what you think is the kitchen. Still, you’re quick to glance at the entrance when the ringing eventually reaches your ears.

Equal parts disappointment and relief flood through you when you catch sight of two people walking in who are decidedly not the guests of the hour.

“Nervous?” comes a sudden, low voice at your right.

You turn to look at the source, and what greets you is a Bakugou with an inexplicable expression on his face. You feel your eyebrows furrow ever so minutely—and you forgive yourself for it, because what the hell are you supposed to reply to that?

Acutely aware of the bug stuck firmly against your chest, though, you scramble for a natural response.

And really, what would be more natural than the truth?

“Would it be weird if I told you I am?”

You weren’t trying to be funny with that quip, but apparently Bakugou finds it humorous, because he chuckles before shaking his head. “Nah.”

He doesn’t expound much after that, to your chagrin. You shrug it off, though, opting to soothe yourself instead. The last thing you need is to seem frazzled—even if you are—not when you’re fully cognizant of Hiroto’s unassuming presence a few tables across from you.

Well, as far as a baseball cap, sunglasses indoors, and a flimsy mustache pass up for unassuming.

Another attempt of yours at a hasty glimpse at the door gets interrupted when Bakugou stretches out his left arm to check his sports watch. You manage to take a peek and see that it’s 11:21 AM. According to the man beside you, they didn’t agree to meet until half past eleven, but you’re here early, just as you planned the night before.

Needless to say, Masaki was understandably skeptical.

“And here I thought you’d know better than to easily believe chatter, Bakugou,” replied the leader when the pro-hero elaborated on his proposal.

“And here I thought you’d know better than to underestimate the word of mouth,” came Bakugou’s impatient response. “If there’s anything I learned working in the field, it’s that that sort of thing shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

“Rumors can escalate, especially if they’re as intriguing as the ones circulating about us. Besides,” he added, “We could use some fucking fresh air. Why don’t you try being cooped up for more than two weeks, hah?”

Masaki didn’t take the bait and counter with another wisecrack, evidently troubled by the newfound information and the fact that Bakugou was making sense. However, despite the ash-blonde’s persuasive argument, the man turned you down and sent you back to your activities after a moment’s consideration.

You went through the day masking as much as you could despite the defeat weighing down your steps, entirely convinced that you lost your one chance at informing the outside world about the plans of attack. Bakugou was extra cranky, too, blowing up all the targets in quirk training and leaving nothing but a pile of ashes for the rest of the members.

You were about to grab your pillow and duvet cover from the bed to make the nightly transfer when a series of knocks resounded from your room’s door. From where he was lounging on the mattress, Bakugou eyed you, and you took that as your cue to get up and figure out who the fuck was going to make your already shitty day even shittier.

It didn’t surprise you to find a stoic Hiroto on the other side, but what did surprise you was what he’d say next.

“He said you could go,” he started, seeming pained, as if it hurt him to say that. “On one condition.”

“What is it?” you asked, hopefulness rekindling, just as you heard Bakugou sit up behind you.

“I tail the both of you.”

Which leads you to the present, seated in a large booth beside Bakugou in one of his favorite katsu restaurants, with a disguised twin watching the two of you like a hawk, waiting.

And if you really think about it, you’re quite lucky things turned out this way—with Bakugou’s words of warning getting to this damned organization’s leader, even if you are being tailed—because otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this golden opportunity to communicate with the rest of the—

“Kacchan!”

You whip to look at the entrance—startled—and sure enough, standing by the glass doors are four people who you could recognize from a mile away.

Pro-heroes Chargebolt, Red Riot, Pinky, and Cellophane.

They’re all smiles as they march through the tables, as if their big introduction wasn’t enough, and normally you’d be sinking in your seat in embarrassment at how loud and flashy your companions are being. But for once, you’re actually thankful they are this way, reminding yourself that you’re not only here to pass a message.

No, you’re here to make a scene.

You stand up out of courtesy as the four arrive at the booth Bakugou selected when you arrived roughly thirty minutes earlier—positioned conveniently smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. Bakugou gingerly follows suit.

“Kacchan!” Chargebolt—Kaminari—repeats, flashing the man a toothy grin, before bringing in him for a hug, which the latter begrudgingly accepts.

“It’s been too long, bro!” the electric hero quips as they pull apart, his gaze then drifting to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “And who do we have here?”

“Don’t make her feel embarrassed, Denks,” comes a good-natured voice from beside him, and you shift to look at the man speaking. Kirishima—Red Riot—tosses you an apologetic smile, reaching out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Eijirou, one of Bakubro’s closest friends. It’s great to finally meet you, …?”

“Y/N,” you supply, smiling back at him as you shake his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you guys.”

“Bakugou’s finally got a girlfriend, huh?” Cellophane—Sero—who’s standing tall behind the redhead—comments, a teasing smirk plastered on his face.

“Watch it,” Bakugou warns from beside you, although it doesn’t have much bite to it.

“And she’s really pretty, too!” pipes up Pinky—Mina—who elbows Kaminari to the side to pull you into a hug, which you readily return. Not knowing what to say, you only laugh, shooting her a grateful look when you let go of each other.

“Thank you for coming out here despite the last-minute invite,” you offer, feeling a tad bit self-conscious. Still, you press on, gesturing towards the seats. “Please, sit down.”

A chorus of ‘Sure’s’ and ‘Thanks’ erupts from the group as they settle in, with Mina, Kaminari, and Sero sitting across you and Kirishima piling in your booth, situating himself beside Bakugou. As they do so, you take the opportunity to quickly scan the restaurant, and sure enough, virtually everyone has paused their respective conversations to look at what’s going on at your table, curious expressions etched on their faces.

“So,” Kirishima starts, leaning into the table to peer at you. “How does it feel to be the cause of Bakugou’s downfall as Japan’s hottest bachelor?”

You splutter, caught off guard by the question, but Bakugou comes to your rescue by punching the ridiculously buff man in the arm.

The latter only barks out a laugh.

“Shut it, shitty hair.”

“Alright, alright,” Kirishima huffs out, chuckling. “You can choose not to answer that. But y’all have to tell us how you met, though.”

At that, Mina squeals, like she just got reminded of that juicy opening. “Yes, please! We made a bet on the way here. Sero’s convinced you’re a paid actress, but I say you had an adorable meet-cute, like at the grocery or something!”

“The fuck?” Bakugou says just as you snort.

“Wait—” Sero straightens up in his seat, completely ignoring the ash-blonde. “What was that snort for? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You better fucking watch yourself, you—”

“Sorry, Sero,” you manage to get out, pulling a lie out of your ass just in time. “But Mina’s right.”

Said girl fist pumps the air while Sero visibly deflates. You feel Bakugou’s eyes trained on the side of your face.

“We met on the airplane,” you continue when nobody says a thing. “We were seatmates, he was reading a book that I loved, and we just hit it off from there.”

“Seriously?” Kaminari cries out, thankfully catching everyone’s attention from your definitely-not-just-made-up story. “It couldn’t have been that easy.”

You shrug, not really knowing how to respond to that, but gratefully you don’t have to because Bakugou chimes in.

“To you,” he taunts, before: “And what’re you complaining about? Aren’t you planning to ask Ears out?”

“Don’t—” Kaminari begins, before ultimately sighing in surrender, mouth formed into a pout. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“There, there,” Sero pats the blonde’s back, although he’s looking far from sympathetic. “Time and place for everything, bro. Now’s not the time for you, though.”

“I knew it!” Mina sing-songs, crushing your dreams of having successfully closed the ‘how did you meet’ chapter of this conversation. Still, you try not to let the dread show on your features.

“What drew you towards him, Y/N?” the acid hero furthers. “On that day at the plane.”

“What…drew me towards him?” you lamely parrot.

“Yeah!” she laughs. “You know, did you think he was cute? Did he smell good? Was he being a gentleman?”

“Do we really have to know all these?” Sero complains.

Mina looks away from you to regard the ebony-haired man, a playful frown decorating her pink face. “Now you’re just being a sore loser, Sero.”

You gulp, taking the short window of reprieve to think about what to say. How does one even come up with an acceptable answer? You chance a glance at Bakugou, and you try not to appear shocked when you find him already looking at you.

Well.

You swore you’d never walk through memory lane, at least the painfully humiliating one concerning Bakugou throughout the course of this mission, but it seems like current affairs call for old data.

And so you dig through the past for a response.

“I—uh…” you start, before trying again. “Well, just as you said, I found him attractive. Physically. But also, with the way he just carried himself. He was very into the, uh, book, and I found it endearing.”

To that, Mina drawls out a long ‘aww’ but gets interrupted by Kirishima, who leans forward again to look past Bakugou and right at you. “But he wasn’t a stranger to you, was he?”

“No, we—”

“Of course, not,” Kaminari cuts you off, “Kacchan here’s crazy popular. Ever since UA, remember?”

“Uh, no, actually…” you trail off, and everybody turns to look at you, questioning.

You take a deep breath.

“I’m actually from UA, too. But from the Gen Ed track. I was your…batchmate.”

“No way.”

“Seriously?”

“Why haven’t I heard of you?”

“I knew you seemed familiar,” the redhead proclaims, his booming voice overwhelming the rest. You shift to face him, shocked.

He beams at you. “You have that interesting quirk. What was it? I think it was luck—”

You gape at him. “Right.”

That causes him to grin wider. “Yeah! I remember Midoriya rambling about how unique your quirk was and how it had so much potential during our graduation ceremony.”

You only gawk at him just as Bakugou stirs in his seat. You steal a glimpse at the man, who, if you didn’t know any better, is looking miffed, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, you take the chance to smile at Kirishima, gratitude blooming in your chest at being remembered.

“Now I feel like shit for not recognizing you, babe,” Mina laments.

You shake your head. “No offense taken, Mina.”

“Still! I should’ve—”

“But wait,” Kaminari interjects, features morphed into an uncharacteristically serious expression. “If you found Kacchan attractive just by first impressions alone, wouldn’t that mean you would’ve had a crush on him back in UA?”

You blink.

Fuuuu—

“Quit spitting nonsense, dunce face,” Bakugou spews out of nowhere, stunning you into a lull and shutting everyone up.

“That’s faulty ass logic,” he finishes without further explication.

Silence.

“…I guess so,” replies the electric hero after a beat, sounding just as bewildered as you are.

But then Mina claps her hands together, and suddenly the tension dissipates. “Enough about the past, you guys! How about now, Y/N? What do you like about Bakugou here?”

“What are you, my old hag?” Bakugou swiftly retorts. “Quit fucking proddin—”

“We’re just curious, bro,” comes Kirishima’s easygoing reply. “We’re happy for you, and we’re keen on the details.”

“…Fine.”

You were about to whip to look at Bakugou, surprised at how easily he relented and all the while unceremoniously threw you under the bus, but you’re able to stop yourself from doing so in the nick of time.

Instead, you turn to look at his friends, who are all staring at you expectantly.

Jesus.

Here goes nothing, then.

“He cares…a lot,” you start, voice wobbly. “But I’m sure you guys knew that already. And, he’s very protective of me.”

“I feel safe and comfortable around him. Plus,” you pause, a chuckle unexpectedly bubbling in your throat. “He’s funny. I mean, he swears to god he doesn’t snore but he—”

“Wait, wait, wait—hold up.”

You freeze, and one look at Kaminari’s face is enough to let you know you fucked up.

Pro-hero Chargebolt grins at you. “You mean you sleep together?”

Shit.

You wouldn’t be lying if you said yes, would you?

Not that you can say no.

And so as you purse your lips, you nod.

“…Yeah.”

At that, and in a blink of an eye, the group erupts into a fit of cheers and shouting but Kaminari’s cry is the one that emerges on top of it all as he stands up.

“Kacchan’s finally getting some!” he practically announces to the entirety of the restaurant, before turning to the man in question, his arm raised. “Give me five, bro!”

Unsurprisingly, Bakugou only glares at him, seething. “Quit fucking talking about my sex life, you dipshit.”

“Not until you return my hi-five!”

“Fucking—”

You watch the two as they have a staredown, but only a few seconds in you can already tell Kaminari is nowhere near backing down. Bakugou must’ve noticed that, too, because a beat later, he averts his gaze—not before rolling his eyes—and acrimoniously slaps the former’s palm.

“Enough about us, though, right?” you assert—desperate to get the spotlight away from you and your fake relationship—just as Kaminari seats himself with a big, proud grin on his face. “What about you guys? What have you been up to?”

To your relief, Mina enthusiastically takes the lure and begins chatting up a storm. You listen with genuine interest as she goes on about starting her own agency and rising to 17th from 28th last year. Kirishima adds to the narrative by divulging how he’s since taken in a fresh UA graduate as a sidekick as per Midoriya’s recommendation. Eventually, you find yourself slowly relaxing as he continues, drawing parallels between his experience with Fat Gum and now being the main hero himself at 9th place in the HBJ.

You try asking Kaminari about how his agency is going, but no matter how he starts his storytelling, it always drifts back to the fact that his building is next to Jirou’s, which unfailingly goes to how it’s going with him and the Hearing hero.

“What did I tell you, bro?” Sero chastises him when Kaminari starts waxing poetic about the musician slash hero. “We’re here to celebrate the happy couple. Don’t go raining on their parade.”

“No—really, it’s oka—”

“I have to go to the restroom!” Mina throws in abruptly and as a matter of factly, completely disregarding the previous topic, before shifting to face you. “Care to join me, Y/N?”

Now, as much as you want to escape from the group and take a breather, you still find yourself hesitating at the invitation, although you manage not to shoot Bakugou a look lest you cause suspicion.

You talked about this—last night—how you’d secretly transmit the details of the attack to any of the four. Your plan requires you to be at the scene, prepared to use your quirk on anyone at any time if necessary, but even you can’t deny that it’d be odd if you declined Mina’s offer.

Girl code and all.

Sero must think the same, too, because the man comes up with an irritatingly badgering remark. “What, can’t bear to be away from Bakugou for even a second?”

“Sheesh,” Kaminari piles on while the rest aside from Bakugou—who’s turning red from what you’re sure is displeasure—snicker among themselves.

“Ha ha, very funny, Kaminari,” you laugh in an attempt to play it off, ultimately deciding to get up as Mina does the same thing from across you.

And you’re about to leave it at that and follow Mina to the girls’ restroom, but you’re stopped by your gut—and an inkling that Hiroto is closely watching the exchange.

Before you can even think twice about what you’re about to do, you spin on your heel and lean down and into Bakugou.

You barely register him shortcircuiting at the sudden proximity, too caught up in your own audacity, as you clench your eyes closed and hastily plant a chaste kiss on his absurdly soft lips.

And just as quickly as you invaded his space, you pull away, mouthing a soft ‘Be right back’ before once again spinning on your heels and starting the trek to the comfort room, willing yourself to ignore the hooting and whistling behind you.

Mina jogs after you, grinning when she catches up and offers you a low-five.

You return it.

“Atta girl.”

“I love your makeup, by the way,” Mina comments as she emerges from a stall behind you, while you wash your hands in one of the sinks.

“And your outfit, too,” she adds, and before you can say anything back: “Do you always look like this?”

You’re not about to tell her you usually look like you just rolled out of bed but are in the middle of a somewhat life-or-death mission hence the constantly put-together look, and so you just shrug sheepishly.

“Uh, I just try to look presentable, you know?”

“Girl, you look more than just presentable.”

You shoot her a thankful smile. “Thanks, Mina.”

That causes her to brighten up. “Don’t mention it! Though, you mind telling me what lip combo you’re wearing?”

Now you’re anything but a gatekeeper when it comes to beauty and your girlfriends, so you tell her. She promptly notes it down on her phone with the signature active-listening nod, thanking you when you finish answering her follow-up questions.

“Great! Now I have another excuse to go shopping.”

You laugh, moving to throw the tissue you used to dry your hands with and head out when she reaches for your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn to face her, eyebrows raised in question.

She beams at you.

“I’m really happy for the both of you, you know?”

You stammer, but Mina goes on—releasing her grip on you—before you can think about something to say back.

“You do know that you’re his first girlfriend, right?”

You did not know that.

You don’t let her know.

“You see, he’s always been popular with girls, especially ever since the end of the Great War. He really doesn’t know how to go about them, though. You’re the first one to really tame him like this.”

You can’t help it—you snort at her word choice. She snickers.

“Thanks, but I really don’t think there’s much to—”

“Girl,” Mina cuts you off, “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

You gulp. There’s absolutely no need for you to know about this, let alone be fed with delusion-fueling lies. Still, you can’t find it in you not to ask. “What about it?”

She giggles. “You really need me to spell it out? His gaze has always been intense but I don’t know—they seem extra piercing when he’s looking at you. And, he looks at you more than you think he does. Believe me, I’ve been studying him ever since we walked into this restaurant.”

Nah.

You wave her off as nicely as you can. “You’re too kind, Mina.”

And she really is, so much so that you’re actually feeling guilty over putting this whole act in front of them. The girl is just trying to hype you up, while you’re here flat-out lying to her face.

“Whatever,” she waves you off, and you’re just about to think the conversation’s finally over when, once again, she continues, a mischievous look on her face.

“About what Kaminari said, though—I know stuff was implied and forgive me—but I just have to ask. I promise this’ll stay between us, but…”

Oh, no.

“…Have you done it yet?”

You choke on your spit.

“Sorry! Sorry,” she talks over you, patting your back as you cough your lungs out. By the time you’ve gathered your bearings, she’s smiling at you guiltily, though something tells you she’s still waiting for an answer.

“Well?”

There you go.

And really, what’s left for you to do than confirm her suspicions? Especially after you quite literally choked like that?

You nod your head slowly, and she squeals.

Great, you think to yourself. Now Pro-hero Pinky, one of your great role models, thinks you’ve fucked one of her closest friends.

You try to console yourself by saying at least the rest of the Quirk Coalition is hearing this and probably getting more and more convinced about your sham relationship.

Copium, right?

“I swear, this secret stays with me, bestie!” Mina reassures you excitedly. “Just make sure y’all stay safe, okay?”

“O-of course, yes.”

“Great. Let’s head out, yeah?”

By the time you return to your table, some of the food’s already been served—everyone’s except Mina’s and Kaminari’s. You got so caught up in dealing with the rocks they threw at you mid-conversation and in managing being with Mina that you completely forgot about ordering food.

“Wait—I didn’t—” you sputter as Bakugou and Kirishima step aside to let you squeeze into the booth, following suit and sitting beside you once you’re in.

“You two were taking too long,” explains Kirishima. “Bakugou went ahead and ordered something for you, as well as Mina’s go-to dish.”

“Yay!” Mina claps, “Thanks, Bakugou!”

“Thanks…babe,” you say quietly, eyeing the ebi tempura katsu he got you.

“No problem,” comes his curt response.

Thankfully, no one comments on the fact that you just called Bakugou a pet name, distracted by the waiter serving the remaining food. Amidst the increasingly rare quiet, you look down at your own plate, before sneaking a glance at the ash-blonde’s beside you.

You didn’t notice you were already staring at his bowl of chicken curry when his deep, low voice rips you out of your stupor.

He eyes you. “You want mine?”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I’m good with the tempura.”

And, as if to prove your point, you pick one up with your chopsticks and bring it to your mouth, taking a small bite. You smile at him, “See?”

Bakugou studies you for a beat longer with his eyebrows furrowed, before he picks up his set of chopsticks and steals away your piece of shrimp.

“Hey—”

You don’t get to have a word in before he devours the tempura in one bite, nor when he swiftly switches your trays between the two of you.

“Bakugou—”

“Damn,” quips Kaminari, catching your attention. You quickly realize that everyone else is gawking at the both of you, too stunned to speak.

The vibrant blonde points to what’s become your dish of curry with his chopsticks. “He’s never done that for any of us before.”

“Yeah,” Sero piles on, eyes wide as saucers. “He loves his hot curry.”

“Bakugou,” you try again, reaching out for your plate, but he gently swats your hands away.

“Just—eat.”

You frown, though you know better than to argue the second time.

“God, I’m stuffed!”

You chuckle as you watch Kaminari rub his belly like a pregnant woman, while Mina and Sero beside him look just as maimed by a particularly debilitating case of food coma—if not more.

“I understand why this is your favorite lunch spot,” you offer, “The food’s amazing.”

“Right?” retorts Kaminari. “We used to go here a lot when we were still—”

“Excuse me,” the waiter—having seemingly emerged from thin air—cuts off the blonde, who instantly shrinks in himself at being interrupted. “Here’s your receipt, sir.”

Kirishima accepts the bill and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but Bakugou’s quick to snatch the leather pad away from him.

You straighten up just as the rest of the squad burst into a series of coos, teasing you about how cool your #2 pro-hero of a boyfriend is.

A remark that they instantly take back when said boyfriend busts out a pen, seemingly to help him double-check the bill and fill up the customer feedback form that was distributed during the middle of your meal.

You know better, though.

You barely catch the side eye Bakugou gives you, but you do, and you immediately ready yourself to use your quirk.

You try not to seem too interested in what he’s jotting down as he hastily scribbles on the form, opting to look at the three in front of you instead.

Almost instantaneously, you realize it’s a mistake.

“What’re you two planning on doing after this, Y/N?” asks Mina.

“We—uh—”

“Do you already have something planned?” interjects Sero, “Because if not, there’s this new place that I recommend you—”

“Actually,” you glance at Bakugou, but you don’t get to look at the paper before you return to face them. “I have—”

“What do you guys mean?” whines Kaminari, “Aren’t we still hanging out after this?”

You were just about to spew a dismissive remark when you feel something kick your shin, and you whip to look at Bakugou, but he’s not turned towards you. Instead, he’s facing down onto the piece of scrap, blocking everyone’s view of it while tapping on it with a pen.

Your eyes trail the length of the tool, and right at the tip of it is the word NOW, encased in a circle.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Bakugou must’ve noticed you getting the signal because he then moves to pat Kirishima on the shoulder, and as he does so, you look up to discreetly search for Hiroto amidst the crowd, spotting him in an instant.

You can’t say for sure, but you’re pretty certain he’s looking straight at you judging by the way his body’s oriented toward your table.

Either way, it’s not like you have the luxury of hesitation.

Once you believe you’ve locked eyes, that’s when you pull.

Hard.

Harder than the last two times.

Acute wariness into boundless relaxation.

And you see it—the way his frame instantly slouches from the tense stance it was just in. He even reaches down in what you think is an attempt to check if his shoelaces were untied, and you grab the opportunity and immediately turn to check on Kirishima.

His face is evidently contorted in confusion when your gaze lands on him, and a surge of panic shoots through you at the sight of it. You think Bakugou must be feeling the same way, but you don’t dare waste a millisecond to verify.

Instead, you call out the redhead’s name, to which he responds by looking at you.

Once again, you pull.

This time, palpable bewilderment into laser-sharp focus.

And just like you did with Hiroto, you watch as Kirishima’s features shift into that of a harmless boy next door to the #8 pro-hero Red Riot, before he calmly takes the piece of paper Bakugou slid across the table and pockets it.

Once you’ve made sure that the message is safely secured in Kirishima’s jean pocket, you risk a quick glance back at Hiroto, who’s only now stretching back up from checking his shoes.

It then dawns on you.

You did it.

And not only that, you managed to make a scene.

That is, if you were to go by the distinct camera shutters that’d been going off the moment you entered the restaurant with Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki you’re definitely not falling for again.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[lixie-phoria]

comforting bf!hyunjin

requested : yes | genre : angst with a happy ending | word count : 0.6k

Can I request y/n talking Hyunjin down from a breakdown and being there for him when he feels kinda numb after and helping him brush his hair, eat, and just being there for him through a hard time

an: this is my first time writing smth like this and I'm not sure how much I like how it's turned out :')

"Hyunjin. Let me in, please"

How long had it been? Half an hour? An hour? You weren't sure as you leaned your forehead against the door, cursing the locked barrier.

"Leave me alone."

His voice was raw, punctuated only by the soft sound of his stifled sobs.

"Jinnie, please. I want to help. Tell me what's wrong."

You were met with silence.

Hyunjin's practice had run late that night.

He'd been down for the past few days, so you stayed up to make sure he wouldn't return home to a cold, dark hall. But you hadn't expected him to storm in at 2 a.m, hair a mess and tear stains running down his cheeks. He didn't even give you a chance to speak. The first thing he'd done was lock himself into your shared bedroom, trying to muffle his sobs, but they seeped into the silence of the hall anyways.

"Babe, what's wrong? Did I do something?"

"No."

"Then let me in, please."

His reply was a strangled sob. "I don't want you seeing me like this. I'm a mess"

"I don't care how you look, hyunjin. I want to make sure you're alright."

It's a while before you hear the lock click, and you're on your feet immediately, pushing the door open to find your boyfriend seated at the foot of your bed, head in his hands and body shaking from sobs.

the sight broke your heart.

You're by his side in an instant, wrapping your arms around him as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, a fresh wave of sobs escaping him.

"What's wrong, hyune?"

"Do you love me?"

His question hung in the air, delicate and heart-wrenching.

"Of course I do. I love you. So much."

"But why?"

You rested your temple against his, sorrow digging a dagger into your heart. You hated seeing him like this.

"Where is all of this coming from?"

His hold around you tightens, but he doesn't answer.

"Is it the haters?"

You knew you had guessed correctly when he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"I don't want to talk about it right now."

"that's not healthy. you know that. let me help you, please."

"not today."

you sighed. you don't want to push it. he'll come around eventually, he always does.

"how about in the morning?"

he nods silently as you finally turn your body to face his, gently taking his face in your hands.

"you know i love you, right? i love you no matter what. always."

he leans into your touch, eyes closing. "thank you."

"And you are not the opinion of someone who doesn't know you."

Though he couldn't see it, a soft smile plays at your lips as you press a kiss to his furrowed brow.

"do you want to eat something?"

"it's 3 in the morning."

"screw that."

that earns a small chuckle from him as he meets your gaze, warm brown orbs staring into yours.

"thank you," he repeats.

"you don't have to thank me, hyune."

you help him up from the floor, standing on your toes to tuck the lose strands that had escaped from his hair tie.

"i didn't think you'd stay with me after seeing me like this."

"i'll stay with you no matter what."

As the night slowly yielded to the first hints of dawn, you found yourselves nestled together on the bed. Hyunjin's breathing had steadied, and his weary eyes met yours with a newfound warmth.

"We're in this together, always," you whisper, lacing his fingers with yours as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss.

At that moment, a meteorite could've come crashing down upon the earth, but what mattered was that you were in his arms. safe.

tags : @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @laylasbunbunny (send an ask to be added/removed)

©lixie-phoria, 2023

[oneofstarkskids]

i told her

part 2 of 'i chose you'

part 1

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

genre: fluffyyy

summary: now that bucky knows about the baby, it's time to tell the people closest to you.

warning: ⚠️ pregnancy ⚠️

finding out you were having a mini barnes was both the most exciting and terrifying moment of your life.

you shouldn't have expected it to be any easier when it came to telling your friends.

the first person you told was natasha, of course. it had been a week since you found out and despite the doubts you'd been searching for in your husband's mind, bucky seemed genuinely happy.

it probably should've been something you discussed together, but he was out with sam and you were at the apartment alone watching movies.

your phone rang and you saw natasha's name pop up on the screen for what seemed like the fiftieth time this week.

you chewed your lip nervously as you contemplated picking it up.

"nat?" you finally answered. "what's with you lately? i've been trying to get a hold of you for days," she said skeptically.

"oh. i've just been um... busy," you lied. she was unconvinced. "honey, you're an ex shield agent that got married to a hundred year old man. taking naps in the middle of the day is not busy."

you sighed. there was no use trying to lie to a trained assassin.

"fine. i'm..." your nerves stopped you for just a moment.

"i'm pregnant," you said out loud for only the second time.

it was completely silent for a moment too long and you began to worry.

"i'm coming over," natasha said ominously.

you tried to argue with her, but it was no use, "nat, no-"

"yes! i just found out i'm going to have a little niece or nephew. i'm coming over," she repeated.

your eyes teared up and your heart warmed at nat's implication. you always had seen her as a sister. since your very first heart to heart.

you knew that you'd always be there for her. what you hadn't expected, was that she would be just as supportive of you. other than bucky, nobody ever was.

but natasha...you could always count on her to make you smile.

and less than an hour later, there she was.

sipping a hot cup of tea on the couch with you as she asked you if you were afraid or excited.

"both," you replied with an anxious smile.

she nodded, "that makes sense. just know, that you don't have to go through any of it alone."

moments later bucky walks through the door, sam trailing closely behind.

"hey, doll. i'm home," he says before noticing natasha. immediately, he knows something is up. bucky can tell by the way the energy in the room feels a bit heavier.

"what's wrong?" he asks, brows furrowed.

you purse your lips, "i told her."

you give him an apologetic expression. the two of you had agreed to tell your friends together, but nat had been so persistent. bucky understood completely.

he gave you the sweetest smile and walked over to place a kiss on your forehead.

sam waved his hands around, "i feel like i'm missing something."

bucky looked to you for the 'go ahead'.

of course, you nodded with excitement.

"we're having a kid," he said with a glimmer in his eyes.

sam's eyebrows raised in surprise and you could tell he wasn't expecting that.

"you know, sam is a pretty gender neutral name," he eventually offered oh-so casually.

bucky rolled his eyes and you just giggled.

"how are we going to explain this one to cap?" sam asked.

you frowned, not understanding the question.

"like are we going with the stork metaphor or...?" he continued. nat put her hand up to her mouth as she suppressed her laughter.

bucky waved him away lovingly, "get out of my house."

sam shrugged, "i'm just saying. we can't have him knowing that you two...fondue."

tag list: @moviegurl2002 @hisredheadedgoddess28

lmk if you want to be added! <3

[kaleldobrev]

Blush

Pairing: Dean Winchester/F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Dean Winchester

Summary: For the first time in your life, you can say you’ve made Dean Winchester blush

Word Count: 389

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Mutual Pining (hinted), Pure Fluff & Embarrassed!Dean

Authors Note: Happy 45th birthday Dean Winchester ♡ | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You sighed as you watched the coffee maker slowly pour out the dark brown liquid that you so desperately craved, despite it being two in the morning.

Like normal after a hunt, for the life of you, you couldn't sleep. You had tossed and turned for the better part of two hours before you finally said, "fuck it," and came into the kitchen; making yourself a cup of coffee because why not? You were already wired from the adrenaline anyway.

As the coffee started to finish pouring itself into the carafe, you reached up into the cabinet above and grabbed your favorite mug; grateful that Dean had washed it for you after using it.

Taking the carafe in hand, you slowly poured the liquid into your mug, slightly inhaling the scent as you did so; before you sat down on the small kitchen table against the wall.

As you sipped your coffee, you heard footsteps coming from the other end of the hall — Dean — you could recognize the sounds of his footsteps from anywhere.

Walking into the kitchen, Dean smiled at you, and gestured to the mug that was currently still stationed in your hands. "Couldn't sleep either uh?" He asked, and you nodded in response.

"Always jealous that Sam can just conk out after a hunt," you said, as you started playing with the rim of your mug. "There's still some coffee left if you want any," you offered.

"Thanks," he nodded. At first, he wasn't going to take you up on your offer, but decided that he would, as his body was still full of adrenaline much like yourself. "Listen," he began, as he took the carafe and started pouring coffee into his mug. "If you ever find yourself unable to sleep, my door is always open."

A small smile formed on your lips at his offer. "Thanks. Might actually take you up on that sometime if you're being serious."

"Of course I'm serious," he said; his tone indicating that he was slightly offended by your comment. "We're...friends," the word friends coming off rather hesitant sounding.

"Just friends?" You teased, raising a brow. Dean's face went slightly flush then, almost embarrassed by your comment. You couldn't help but smile at the pinkness of his cheeks, finding it adorable that you had managed to make Dean Winchester blush.

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[https-furina]

okay okay so, since im already on the angst train and i want to hurt myself today, hear me out:

you and your lover are out doing wtv and you're ambushed and then, naturally, you guys fight the enemies right?

okay so you get hurt and youre losing a lot of blood and your lover realizes this and is completely heartbroken bc you dont have much time, the wound is deep

so um yeah the reader dies in their lover's arms basically, with albedo, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao and kaeya

theres so many characters im curious abt so please take your time mwah

(ps: i will not pay anyone's therapy okay i need it myself, my condolaences for hurting you)

✎ i wasn't ready to say goodbye [various men - part one]

ft. albedo, aether, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao & kaeya x fem!reader

content: do i need to say angst? i'm so sorry. major death + blood warnings. implied that reader can handle a weapon in most of them - unspecified if reader is a vision holder. hurt with absolutely no comfort. semi-spoilers for scaramouche/wanderer's story (end of the sumeru archon quests.)

notes: we added aether last second in the discord bc we summoned aki ( @kazumist - aly wanted you tagged ) some of them are awful and ooc i'm so sorry - officially managed this in just over 24 hours!

albedo treasures you more than he cares to admit verbally. it shows in all of his acts of love through physical means, lingering touches and making sure you're warm whenever you visit him on dragonspine. he hates you visiting him as much as he loves you - it's merely because it puts you in extreme danger every time. there's the temperatures, the wildlife, the lack of oxygen and of course, there's the monsters lurking around every corner of the inhabited mountain.

as the chief alchemist for the knights of favonius, there's always a warrant for albedo's life one way or another. the fatui are eager to stop his research - or steal it, maybe both.

there's a silence except for the howling winds that circle the snowy mountain. you're struggling to breathe, to get the sharp air into your lungs as you lowered your sword slowly. not far away, your boyfriend is finishing off the final fatui soldier, blood splattering onto his sleeve before he turns to face you. is it just you or does albedo look even more beautiful right now? you furrow your brows in confusion. albedo looks like he's seen a ghost, colour flushing from his face when he rushes forward. your knees give way under you and he barely manages to catch you in his arms, kneeling as he lets you lay against him. "bedo, love?" you mumble, unsure as to what's happening. you can hear the roar of your blood in your ears, your heart is beating whilst the adrenaline still pumps through your body. albedo hushes you softly, pupils dilated when he looks at your wound. "h-how do you feel?" his voice cracks when he asks the question, a gloved hand applying pressure to your side. you wince, the adrenaline is starting to fade and you feel faint. there's a cold sweat glistening on your forehead when you look down at where albedo's hand is, seeing the blood seep through your clothing. it's albedo's turn to watch your expression drop, your world starting to spin and mix together when the adrenaline is gone and you're aware of what happened. it feels as if there's a lump in your throat but when you try to cough it up, only blood spills in a small trickle out of your mouth. "love-" there's another cough, the blood is running down your jaw as albedo's hands start to shake. he has no means of saving you out here, you're nowhere near camp and he can't leave you here while he gets help, "i want to go home..." your voice is weak, trailing off and albedo isn't sure if he should let the tears brinking his ocean coloured eyes fall as your breaths become raspy. chapped lips open and close, trying to find the words to reply to you but all he can muster is a weak "we're going home, dear" when your chest ceases to rise again. his breathing is jagged, clutching you close to him as if you’ll disappear for good when he lets go.

aether clings to you like ivy to a brick building. you give him hope in this search for his twin sister - one he's beginning to think is failing, day by day. you reassure him, that bright smile and sparkling eyes setting him on the right path. he's certain he would have gave up ages ago if it wasn't for you. but aether realises that he is constantly in danger. you love to adventure with, crossing the rolling hills of mondstadt and gawking at the grand mountain peaks of liyue that pierce through clouds.

it was only so long before he faced the repercussions for so willingly letting you travel with him, tearing his hope away in the blink of an eye.

"a-aether?" your voice is wavering, aether is confused. you've been travelling with him for so long now, what could possibly have scared you about some hilichurls? but he turns to face you, blade at the ready - ready to protect you. his eyes fall on the arrow lodged in your chest, your eyes wide in fear as you stare at him in panic. it was already too late to protect you, he'd failed himself. aether drops the sword in his hand, paying no mind to how it clutters on the gravel below you both when he's rushing forward to ease you to the ground. you're stable - awake but for how long? you're in shock, it's going to fade and you'll succumb to the blood reddening your attire. aether swears lightly under his breath, unable to look you in the eyes out of pure guilt; this was his fault, he hadn't protected you. now not only had he lost his sister, he'd lost his partner too. "it hurts to breathe," you mumble, your eyelashes are fluttering gently. the sun behind aether is starting to burn at your eyes, "aether why are you crying?" the blond isn't even aware of the salty tears that glisten in the sunlight when they roll down his cheeks, dripping off his jaw and onto your shoulder where aether has laid your head onto his lap. it's comfortable, just as it always is. on days where you needed a break from walking, aether would often let you lay like this under a nearby tree. the thought makes aether choke out a sob. you smile sadly. "you can't leave me too," your hand cups his cheek, thumb weakly stroking at the tearstained skin when he hiccups, "no, this isn't fair." there isn't civilisation for days and he can't keep the arrow lodged in your chest nor does he have the means of stopping the blood if he pulls it out. aether is at a loss, unable to do anything while he watches the damage done to you internally take you from him beneath his own hands. "hey, you'll find her." you sound so certain, just as you always do and aether watches that positive spark die from your eyes when your breaths turn to rasps and he finds himself yelling at your body - at the sky, at anybody! he yells and yells, hoping someone listens to his cries for you to wake up. wake up, please.

heizou believes that of all the cases he's cracked, you're his favourite. he's read every line written into your skin as you age, the blemishes that litter your body and tell tales untold. you were his favourite mystery but now he had you like a stained glass window, beautiful and on display. although as a detective, heizou has destroyed many more lives than he is keen to admit. his suspects have families - lives, presumably before he has them in jail or worse, life sentence.

their families are hurt, angrily in denial that their own blood could commit such vile atrocities. heizou took something precious from them, what was stopping them from doing the same to him in an act of revenge?

heizou is more than used to his routine of coming home to you, being able to drown in the comfort of your arms after a long day of work. he's disturbed by the front door being open but albeit it's the peak of summer in inazuma, the humidity is drowning you, especially if you're not native to the islands. you're not quick to greet them when he steps in however, in fact he can't even see you. the house is untouched but the silence is deafening. "i'm home," heizou calls out, brows knitting together when he doesn't hear you chime his name back excitedly, "love?" the silence is killing heizou, it's unlike you at all but then he hears it, the meek sound of you calling his name out back. it sounds like you're in the bedroom and with a relieved smile, heizou finds himself heading to find you. but verdant eyes fall on the red smeared on the walls, staining the bedsheets and pooling around you. the relief is gone and his body is tense with dread as he drops the case files he'd been holding, quick to kneel with you and hug you close when you reach for him. "what happened?" his voice is panicked, he's barely breathing when he feels your blood soak through his clothes. he's searching you for your wound, shaking, "love, answer me." your chapped lips open but nothing seems to come out, you feel cold to the touch and all you can do is stare up at heizou. you knew the moment you was attacked that this was it for you but your biggest fear wasn't death, it was heizou. it was your witty detective, keen and full of intuition that he prides himself in; it was whether you'd see him one last time before your heart put in its final beat. heizou doesn't take your inability to speak lightly, letting out a flurry of curses that makes your brows furrow in distaste. you wasn't fond of him swearing when he got stressed but as you watch a tear fall down his cheek, you know you can't argue about his tongue anymore. he has every right to be mad when your bloody hand reaches up for him, the warm palm of his hand quick to grab your hand and coat his fingers. "i love you," you mumble, raspy and heizou is quick to shake his head - conserve your energy, "don't cry please." "you're not allowed to leave me," he chokes out, his lower lip tugged between his lips as his spare hand presses on your wound to try stop the bleeding. you wince but heizou doesn't lighten the pressure in fear, "i'll find who did this." your lips curl up at his words and heizou leans to press a kiss to your forehead, which is clammy and covered in a light sheen. by the time he pulls away, he's the only one left breathing in the room. heizou's shaking hands cup your cheeks, eyes darting around the room when he doesn't quite know what to do. he's used to this - the blood, the smell, the touch of a lifeless body but not when it's you. not when it's the love of his life. he wails in anguish, the taste in his mouth bitter when he swears revenge on whoever took you from him.

kazuha took his time warming up to you when you first met. you didn't blame him, you'd heard the tale of his late friend from captain beidou when you first came onboard the alcor. but your patience with him warmed his heart quicker than expected, leaving you inseparable as you travelled with the crew. even on land, kazuha was joined to your hip. he claimed he was there to protect you and that excuse expanded tenfold when you started dating.

he should have never taken his eyes off you, simply searching for firewood shouldn't have consequences like this.

when the last treasure hoarder falls limp to the dusty ground, kazuha finds himself enveloping you in his arms, eyes frantically scanning your face for signs of pain. you're unresponsive, eyelashes shut but your breathing is shallow while your body fights the unexpected blood loss. "fuck," he whispers, much out of his comfort zone when he's trying to find exactly where your wound is. your blood is staining his skin, getting under his nails where it'll haunt and remind him of what happened for weeks, "y/n? love?" your brows knit as if you can hear him but he's unsure if you're just reacting to the pain. your body is most likely in shock and kazuha is running out of time before the shock fades and you're left in excruciating pain until your last breath. the thought makes kazuha feel sick. he was gone for at least ten minutes, how did he lose you so quickly? he shouldn't have told you to stay at camp by yourself. you'd offered to go with him but kazuha trusted you'd be safe without him, even just for a few minutes. his face turns sour at his own thoughts. how foolish had he been to think you'd have been safe without him? "i-i love you," he stutters out, voice cracking as he presses a kiss to your head, burying his nose in your hair when he tries to blanket himself in your scent - begging to the archons that he'll wake up in bed, "come on, let's go back to the alcor, beidou will get help." he's speaking to you in the softest of tones, his voice hushed as to not disturb the silence of the countryside - or attract more unwanted attention. carefully, kazuha raises himself to his feet with you in his arms. he sees tomo in you for a moment, forcing himself to swallow when there's a suffocating lump in his throat. by the time kazuha has stumbled back to the alcor, beidou rushing over with her face void of colour, your heart is no longer thudding against your ribcage. kazuha will never again hear your heartbeat when he lays his head on your chest or feel your pulse in your wrist when he grabs hold of you.

wanderer figured it was foolish to fall in love after all he'd gone through. what was love when you've been betrayed so many times before? when the archons have so harshly ripped the ones you love away from you? he likes to scowl and shun the premise of love until he met you, an adventurer from the guild assisting in vahumana darshan commissions. you would stubbornly strike conversations up with him, following him as he walked away until he finally caved and would reply.

was it foolish to fall in love or rather was it foolish to place his fragile trust back in the hands of the archons?

his ears are ringing, was mawtiyima forest always this loud? no, it's not even loud - it's silent. the silence is buzzing in his ears, driving him insane as he watches you cough blood onto the dirt. you'd been tasked with clearing out the treasure hoarder camp within the glowing forest - but wanderer isn't stupid. to let you do that alone? he'd be a mad man. but now he isn't too sure if he should have tagged along. would it have hurt him less to find out you'd passed away out on a commission through the guild? or is it hurting less to watch as you splatter that precious red that you humans rely on all over the ground? wanderer finds himself barely able to utter a word. that's rare, he usually has something to say in that stark, rude tone he never explicitly dropped. it made him cold, it stopped people approaching and getting close. why didn't it work against you? "w-why are you looking at me like that?" you croak out, pupils dilated and staring at him in concern. he's as pale as the snow on dragonspine but the tip of his nose is a pink hue as tears well up and sting at his widened eyes. he's not crying, he refuses to cry - he puts it down to not having blinked for a while. so he blinks but you're still hunched over, impaled by a polearm before him. he finally moves forward, kneeling carefully to the side of you as you let out a choked sob, your hands gripping his cold ones tight in yours. he's confused, what did he do to deserve it this time? he didn't ask for this existence in the first place. cursing under his breath, his eyes land on your sword on the floor. it's worn, getting dull and wanderer questions if you was unable to protect yourself properly. no. he didn't protect you properly and the archons saw an opportunity, another jab at his curse of an existence. his eyes dart between you and the blade, then the polearm that isn't welcome where it is. you wince, hiccuping as you wail into the silence of mawtiyima forest. your vision is falling hazy in between the blur of your tears and you're struggling to keep your eyes on your boyfriend's familiar face. "no, no, no - don't go," wanderer panics. it's the first thing he's said since he offered to join you on this commission, "don't leave me, not you too." you let out a sad laugh, coughing blood once more as your breaths get shorter with every one you take. wanderer feels sick, the tears are falling down his cheeks and he can't deny them anymore. there's a last breath, raspy and suffocating before your body falls forward into his arms, limp like a doll. wanderer screams out into the night, hands clutching at the guild's uniform you would proudly wear. how many more times was he going to witness someone getting hastily robbed from him?

xiao keeps his distance, even as your beloved boyfriend that you struggle to be away from for extended periods. you were stubborn, believing he didn't have to succumb to his karma as an adeptus. no matter how much he would shuffle away, he could guarantee you would shuffle after him until he no longer moved away. you still gave him his space - you knew you could find him at wangshu inn.

or if you really needed him, in the midst of the night for a multitude of reasons, you could say his name.

there's a lump in xiao's throat, what the fuck happened? one moment he knows he hears your hurried screams of his name, there's a shrill panic in your tone and he's alert in seconds. he thought you was perhaps in danger but when golden eyes see how you're leaning back on a tree, blood soaking your shirt - and your blade, he realises the danger is gone. and in all of your stubbornness, you had defeated the danger alone but put your life on the line as a result. you smile at him weakly, his footsteps silent as he rushes over to your side. "i got it, don't worry, love." you sigh, tilting your head back on the bark. xiao scowls, you're losing consciousness from the blood now, it's starting to pool beneath you and run down the cracks of the bark behind you. this isn't a minor injury and yet you hadn't called for him sooner? "we need to get you out of here - morax- zhongli- he can help," he barely breathes in between his words, swallowing at the tight feeling in his throat when your eyes are closing, "keep your eyes open, please." his beg falls short of no one's ears other than his own and the stars above. xiao stops breathing himself, holding his breath when he hurries to press the pads of his fingers to your neck, your wrist, anywhere he can try find a pulse. but there's nothing, your body is still warm and xiao pulls you flush to his chest when tears begin to fall down his cheeks. "keep.. them open. please." he repeats in a whisper, nudging his nose against your head as he buries his face into your hair. he's begging in hushed whispers, words disappearing into the strands of your hair in silent prayers.

kaeya was the one who chased you first, lisa's darling library assistant. he'd never spent so much time in the library in his life, other than crepus' own library at the winery but he wasn't much fond of that collection. he isn't much fond of the knights' collection either, reading the same book every day. jean occasionally entrusts you to handle matters in the valleys of mondstadt, to which kaeya is quick to always interfere and say that he'll go with you.

history will always repeat itself until the lesson is learned and an innocent soul has to face the reality.

thunder booms over head, followed by a distant crack of lightning that illuminates the dark sky above mondstadt. kaeya is stood, motionless as he looks at you. his eyes are distant, there's a vacant look about him when the blood is running down your bare legs and mixing with the rain. you're both soaked but your clothes are staining red where a mitachurl's axe caught you in the side. the blood is coming quick and heavy, there isn't time for kaeya to get you back to the city. this scene is familiar when you fall to your knees in the mud, hands holding at your side for pressure. suddenly, your hair is a bright shade of red. is kaeya about to stand and do nothing for a second time, when history is repeating himself right in front of his very own eyes? he swallows but it's difficult, rushing to your side. you're losing consciousness but your eyes are scanning his face. the sun kissed skin, the worn leather eyepatch and his messy blue ponytail that now looks like waterfalls cascading around his face. you smile at the thought. you should visit the waterfalls of mondstadt when the weather picks up so you can gawk at them. "baby?" it comes out of his mouth, barely audible above the rain, "say something - are you okay?" you almost throw back a playful retort but your vision is darkening around the edges and you're grasping to what sight you have left to look at kaeya. your vision blurs when tears threaten to spill - are you scared? you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. kaeya's gloved hands cup your face, pressing his forehead against yours. "stay with me, love, i can't lose you," kaeya's frantic and his words are jumbling when he panics, "we'll stop the bleeding and take you to sister barbara-" kaeya pauses when he notices you haven't blinked despite the rain falling onto your face when he pulls his forehead away. there's a distant look in your eyes, the light has faded and he can't feel the hot, struggled breaths you was taking against his skin anymore. a flurry of angered swears leave his lips and he's careful when he carries you bridal style to the dawn winery. it's the first place he thinks to take you, back to his brother who can't bear to see kaeya stood in the rain again with blood drenching his clothes from the long walk to the winery's front door.

© https-heizou 2023.

[skzstannie]

“What about Ben?”

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member fem! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort wc: ~4,800 cw: reader has a panic attack and depression, Ben is ur lil bro

summary: your mom isn’t happy about your absence at your brother’s birthday party, but she takes her anger a step too far this time

A/N: Happy New Year everyone! I hope everyone has a blessed 2024! Part 2s for both the Felix and the Han fic are underway, so send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the tag list for either of them!

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"Mom, you know I can't just up and leave! What are you expecting me to do?"

You find yourself having the same conversation with your parents time and time again- they want you to come home, you can't come home, then they give you the silent treatment for a period of time until they want you to come home for something else.

It's mentally exhausting, having to deal with their constant negative remarks towards you job. You only do it for your little brother; him growing up without you is not in the cards for you. In fact, that's what this argument you're having with your mom is about this time.

"I expect you to put your family first for once in your life!" your mother yells back. You flinch, pulling the phone away from your ear.

"Mom, you know I wouldn't miss Ben's birthday unless I absolutely have to. I want to be there for him, I really do!" your words do little to convince her as she already has her mind made up about the type of person you are.

"This has happened one too many times. Missing the occasional family gathering is one thing, but it’s your brother's birthday." Her disgust easily wafts through the speaker of your phone, and you bite your lip to keep from absolutely lashing out at her.

Your parents were never understanding of your job. They always expected you to just pack up your bags and fly home for the smallest of things.

Your baby cousin said her first words? "Why aren't you here?"

Your little brother lost another tooth? "Why would you want to miss this important milestone?"

Your grandma got a new dog? "What kind of heartless person denies their grandparents?"

Over and over, you've been criticized for your job. You give them the same explanation each time, as it's the truth.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I want to be there; I really really do. It's just that-"

"Always with the excuses. Ya know what? I'm tired of the excuses," she pauses and your breath hitches in your throat.

"Ma?" your voice is choked up, and you find your lip wobbling from where it's pulled between your mouth.

Your mother sighs, her disappointment evident. "We're done with the excuses, Y/N. If you can't be here for us, I don't think this is going to work out."

You swear your heart stops upon hearing her words. "What do you mean?" the laugh you let out is far from humorous. It's desperate. "How could it not work out? I'm your daughter, there's nothing to work out. You're supposed to love me and care for me, unconditionally."

"You've crossed the line too many times. Don't try to spin this around and make me the bad guy. This is completely your fault, you and those stupid boys."

Your parents could talk trash about you all they want, but you never let them get away with saying stuff about your boys. "You can belittle me, argue with me, call me every name in your book, but I will not let you talk about the guys like that. They're my family, too," your almost able to catch yourself, but you realize your mistake far too late.

"Oh, yea? Well, if those guys are your family, why not spend the rest of your time with them, too. It’s not like you weren’t already planning to anyway. Spend your holidays with them, your birthdays with them. He’ll, what do you even need us for?”

Tears well in your eyes, a mix of anger and fear swelling deep in your gut. "Mom, you know that's not what I meant." You’re completely choked up, your words coming out just above a whisper in volume.

You've had fights, but they never go as far as this. Usually, your mom would've hung up by now, leaving you with nothing but radio silence for months on end.

As toxic as this is, she's your mom. You couldn't live this life without her. She's toxic now, using your vulnerability against you every chance she gets, but she wasn't always that way.

She was once a loving mother, one who packed your lunch every morning for school, sending you off with a kiss on your cheek. A mom who'd pay extra to get more of your school pictures so she could put them on her desk at work and in her car. She used to show her love for you as any mother does, but you havent felt that in so long.

The last time you were home was a little over two months ago, and not once did she hug you, kiss you, or even touch you. She was cold and emotionless towards you.

You should've seen it coming. All this tension building up for months on end, it was going to have to bottom out eventually.

As much as the above is true, the words that flew out her mouth next shocked you beyond belief, causing the tears to flow freely from your waterline.

"Don't come back home, Y/N. I'm serious. You've done too much damage to my family." There’s a beeping on the other end of the phone, and it drops from your shaking hand to the carpeted floor beneath you.

Don't come back?

You were always sorry, apology after apology leaving your lips when you had to miss something your family organized. You thought it'd be okay. Your mom would get over herself eventually, and you'd come home when the company allowed you to.

You pick up the phone, hands a trembling mess, and call back, praying for another chance to explain yourself. You’re met with an automated message, the robotic voice piercing your ear.

"I'm sorry, this customer is unavailable."

You hang up and call again. She wouldn't have blocked you. It was just a silly fight, right?

"I'm sorry, this customer is-" you hang up before the message finishes, throwing your phone onto the floor next to you.

Your sobs become audible, and your body crumbles onto the floor, your knees thankful for the soft surface the carpet provides. Your fingers claw at the skin around your eyes, looking for a relief from the emotional pain coursing through your body.

Red lines mark your face, leaving the areas tender and puffy.

Your heart constricts in betrayal.

How could she?

She raised you, gave birth to you. How was it so easy for her?

The thought of your little brother enters your jumbled thoughts, and your heart breaks further.

He’s only six years old, and he is the best little brother you could ever ask for. He loves with all his heart, and you are lucky enough to get to experience it, to be apart of that little circle he could wrap his arms around and squeeze with all his might.

The thought of never squishing his chubby cheeks again destroys you, and you're unable to express the amount of heartache you're feeling.

So you scream.

You scream loud, your emotions ripping through your throat like shards of glass through skin.

You’re too distraught to notice the door to your bedroom whipping open. Chan and Minho stand there in the doorway, their eyes wide and mouths agape.

They've never seen you like this before. They've never seen anybody like this before, actually. Your screams are manic as they bounce off the walls around you, echoing around the room.

Once their shock dies off, they rush over to you. Minho is gentle in his grip but firm as he pries your hands away from your face. He gasps when he sees the damage your nails have already done, your once soft features now blotchy with angry red streaks.

You continue to scream, your nails now digging into Minho's arm. Chan grabs you from behind, doing his best to soothe you out of your hysteria.

"Y/N, you have to calm down. Please, it's ok, shhh," he says, his hold around you tight in an attempt to give you some sense of security.

"What happened? Can you talk to us?" you ignore Minho.

They accept that you're too worked up too answer them, and they let you finish your episode, the two of them doing everything they can to try and soothe you.

The rest of the guys in the dorm stand in the doorway now, your cries too agonizing for them to ignore. Varying degrees of shock are spread across their faces as they watch.

Chan starts to mumble sweet words to you as you come out of your panic attack, your brain finally able to register your surroundings again.

“It hurts,” you whimper, chest aching. “It’s so hard to breathe.”

"It's ok, we're here," he repeats, his head pressed up against the side of yours.

"Tell us five things you can see right now," Minho says from beside you, his grip still tight around your sweaty hands.

Your voice is scratchy, your throat red and scarred from your screams, but you oblige, knowing this will help you ground yourself. "I see my alarm clock," your eyes scan your room, landing on the bright digital clock you have sitting on your bedside table.

"Good," he hums, "What else?"

Your eyes travel to the door and you see the scared faces of the rest of your members. You lock in on Felix, his hands clenched tightly in front of him as salty tears stream down his face.

"I see Felix," you whisper, the pain from your throat becoming more and more noticeable.

He nods his head. "Good, now three more things. What else do you see?"

You look to your opened closet, your eyes catching the way your clothes spill out of your messy dresser onto your floor. "I see my favorite hoodie. I see my curtains, and I see that stain on my wall."

"Perfect, Y/N. Take a few deep breaths now." You breathe with Minho, your erratic breaths eventually matching his steady ones.

Finally calmed down enough, you slump back into Chan's hold, completely exhausted from the panic attack.

The room is silent for a moment, all the guys letting you have a second to gather your bearings.

"What happened?" Changbin steps through the rest of the members, settling next to the three of you on the floor. The rest follow suit, some sitting on your bed and some sitting beside Changbin.

"It's my mom again. I don't even know, I think she like, kicked me out? Like, kicked me out of the family?" You're almost embarrassed to explain the situation. You don't know why, maybe in fear your members will think your mom's right. That maybe you have been missing too many family functions, and that you should’ve made more time for them.

"Y/N, that's awful," hums of agreeance come throughout the room, and Hyunjin's words help to reassure you. "You don't deserve that, not one bit."

"She's completely out of line. Nothing you did warranted this at all," Seungmin chimes in. He knows thoughts of uncertainty are swirling through your head, the gaslighting from your mother turning your thoughts to mush.

"What about Ben?"

"What about him? You know your mom's full of shit, and the minute you show up at her doorstep she'll welcome you in. She's bluffing," Changbin pipes up again, his shoulders tight with anger.

"I don't think she is this time."

~ ~ ~

It's another day, and you've spent it the exact same way you spent the last five- curled up in your bed with the lights off, mindlessly scrolling through your phone.

Chan's come in to check on you periodically, but you’ve been alone for the most part.

The knock at your door alerts you from your sleepy state, and you call them in.

“Hey, I brought you some soup. Minho made it earlier today, and I figured you might be hungry,” Chan says, giving you a timid smile.

“Thanks, Chan, but I’m not really hungry right now. Can you just set it there?” You point to the little table you have at the end of your bed, “I’ll eat it later, I promise.”

Your phone starts to ring, and you gasp when you see who’s calling.

Dad

You pick up immediately, and you’re met with the distant yells of your parents. Confused, you ask, “Hello, Dad?”

“Sissy,” comes through. It’s Ben. His voice is small, and fear seeps through the speaker.

“Buddy, what’s wrong?” You keep your tears at bay, knowing you need to be strong for him. Chan sits down beside you when he hears the little voice you’re talking to, and he rubs your back in comfort.

“Mom and Dad are fighting again,” he sniffles, the microphone personifying every bit of his sadness. “I miss you, Sissy.”

“I miss you, more, buddy, but I don't think we're gonna be able to see each other for a while," you choke back sobs.

“But I miss you so much,” he’s crying harder now, and it’s hard to hold yourself together knowing he’s struggling like he is.

“I know, buddy, I know. I’m so sorry I missed your birthday, I couldn’t get a day off work,” you explain. Chan brings his finger up to your cheek, catching your tear before it’s able to fall from your cheek.

You hear Ben gasp, and your heart beat picks up. “Ben, is everything ok? What happened?”

“Mommy’s coming, and I have to go. She told me I couldn’t talk to you, but I stole Dad’s phone. Love you, sissy,” and he’s gone before you can even say it back.

Chan eventually leaves your side upon your request to be alone for a while. The soup beside your bed grows cold as your sadness overwhelms you once again.

~ ~ ~ "Alright, rise and shine!" you're awoken from your slumber by the bright light shining in from your window. You groan, throwing your pillow over your head to block the light. Your curtains hadn’t been opened in weeks, and you were planning on keeping it that way for as long as possible.

"Nope," the intruder says, ripping the pillow from off your face.

"We've allowed you to wallow in this room long enough. If we're not performing or doing an interview, you're laying in the dark in bed." Your eyes open, crusty and sore from the crying you did before falling asleep the night before.

Hyunjin's face paints your irises, his features full of determination.

"Time to get up." He throws your pillow back on the bed beside you, turning to walk out your door. "Oh, and pack a bag, we're flying somewhere today."

You shoot up in bed at that. "Nothing's on the schedule for today, so where are we going?”

‘Is it something I can get out of?’ is what you really want to say, but you keep it to yourself.

"It’s a surprise. Get up and get dressed, we leave in an hour," he finishes, closing the door behind him.

You slide out of bed, your limbs dragging your covers onto the floor. You don't bother picking them up, too tired to care about the messy appearance of your room.

You quickly get ready, throwing on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. You pull your hair up into a ponytail, attempting to hide the grease that's accumulated over the past few days.

The ride to the airport is quiet and relatively peaceful. Everyone's happy to see you up and moving again, but the facade you've been putting on for the public has been washed away in your tired state, leaving your features drowsy. The dark circles under your eyes are prominent, your cheekbones sticking out more than usual. Your hair’s thinned a little, and your lips are cracked from your lack of hydration.

Through security and the rest of the way through the airport, you grip Jisung's arm, both of you needing the other's support in the overcrowded building.

Chan had explained to you that the managers wanted to start filming for the next SKZ Code a day early, fearing it might take longer than expected.

When you see the television next to your boarding terminal, your eyes practically bug out of your head.

Why would you be filming the next SKZ Code in your hometown?

That's the last place you want to go, your fight with your mom still fresh in your mind. You've been feeling the affects of it, her harsh words and actions sending you deep into a depressive episode.

Your members have noticed, trying their best to pull you from it, but nothing they did seem to work.

They can't begin to sympathize with you, none of them ever experiencing the kind of hurt you feel deep in your heart, wreaking havoc on your sanity. All they can do is offer you words of encouragement and love, assuring you that you still have a family, a very real one. While the nine of you may not be related by blood, the bond between all of you is strong.

They decided to take their efforts one step further, however, after seeing you begin to spiral. Your naps became longer and more frequent, often taking up most of the time you were supposed to be awake. You had been neglecting your self care routine, not even having enough energy to shower and brush your teeth most days.

Chan decided that enough is enough, so he convinced the managers to book you all a flight to your hometown to try and reconcile your family. As much as they wanted your mom out of your life, you were much more sane with her in it, and you needed your dad and your brother.

~ ~ ~

The flight was a success, everything going perfectly smooth.

You're now squished into the backseat of a car on the way to the house you'll all be staying at for the remainder of the filming.

The first thing you notice when pulling up into the driveway is how beautiful the house is. The front yard has the most angelic archways leading up to the house, with flowers lining the sidewalk and little statues spread about.

The house itself is amazing. Tall glass windows cover most of the front, the sunlight easily shining through, lighting up the front room.

The five of you- Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, I.N, and yourself- make your way into the house, and all of your previous worries disappear at the sight of the incredible interior. The walls are lined with expensive looking art, chandeliers hang from the tall ceilings, and the floors are marbled with white and gray.

Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, and Seungmin went to the store in the other van. They said they needed to pick up some last minute essentials for your stay.

Little did you know, they were actually going to your parents house. Their hopes were to get your mother to forgive you, or at least be civil so you could have a conversation with her.

Unfortunately, their visit did not go as planned, and it ended with your mother threatening to call the cops on them if they didn't leave the property immediately. This, of course, did not deter Lee Know from giving her a piece of his mind. His outburst was in Korean, and the insults he threw at her were so quick she'd never be able to recall them to look them up in a translator.

As much as they wanted to stay, to defend you and help you get your family back, they knew they couldn't. Getting law enforcement involved was the last thing they needed, knowing their managers would immediately regret sending them on this short getaway.

So, with that, they went back to the house with anger embedded in their hearts. They didn't want to have to tell you the real reason you all came here. They didn't know how you would react. Would you be thankful they tried to help? Would you feel betrayed that they'd went to your home without permission? They didn't know, but it was time to face the music; there was no SKZ Code to film, and they had no shopping bags in hand, so the truth was going to have to come out.

"Y/N," Chan sighs as he plops down next to you on the couch. You're both seated in the sunroom, looking out at the lake that sits in the backyard.

He gets your attention, and you slide your phone in your hoodie pocket, turning your body to face him. "What's up?"

He hates that he has to be the one to bring up your family again. You look so peaceful, your face no longer contorted with sorrow and pain like it'd been for weeks now, but he knows he has to tell you. It’s only fair to you. "So, please don't get mad, but this whole thing may or may not have been just a setup for you to see your family again."

Your heart beats out of your chest at the mention of seeing your family again. "Really, when can we go?" Your excitement radiates off of you, and you quickly stand to your feet.

Chan grabs ahold of your sleeve and gently guides you back down next to him, his eyes filled with pity. "Well, when we said we were going shopping earlier, we actually went to your house," he pauses, his eyes scanning your features; your face is blank, the excitement from seconds ago long gone. "Your mom wasn't exactly appreciative of our presence, and she kicked us out. Said she'd call the cops if we didn't leave. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

Your mind whirls with the information Chan just threw at you. "So, all of this," you gesture to your surroundings, "was for me? There's no SKZ Code?"

He shakes his head, his hand coming to rest on your arm, "No SKZ Code."

"And my mom still doesn't want to see me?"

He shakes his head again, slower this time. "I'm so sorry for doing this to you. I thought she'd be more open to talk to you, to us, but she wasn't. If I'd have known it'd end this way, I would've never done all this."

You sit there in silence, your gaze downcast. There's no sadness or anger in your heart, no tears welling up in your eyes. You expelled all the emotions you could over the past few weeks, and you've left yourself with nothing.

You stand, your only desire to go lay down on the plushy bed you found in one of the bedrooms when you were exploring earlier. As you walk away from Chan, he stops you.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I can come with you?"

"No thank you, I'll be fine," your voice is robotic as you decline his offer. You make your way to the room, climbing up the stairs to the second floor.

You're out like a light as soon as your head hits the feathery pillow, the day’s events catching up to you all at once.

~ ~ ~

You're rudely awoken by the sound of your phone ringing. You pull it out from your pocket, your eyes squinting at the brightness.

Your eyes widen at the contact name that appears on the screen.

Dad

You quickly press the answer button, scared if you wait too long the opportunity will disappear quicker than it showed up.

Your dad had always been a follower. He's the youngest of four siblings, so it was instinctual for him to do what they did. When he married your mom, he had been the same way. Whatever your mom said went.

Your dad loved you and your brother so much, with all his heart, but when your mom started to act up, he became distant. He was never mean to you; he just stopped calling one day, stopped texting. You knew it was because of your mom; a part of you thought he was scared of her.

The last few times you'd gone home, the tension between them was almost unbearable, but your dad always rolled with it. Essentially, he was your mom's very own punching bag. You felt bad for him, but only he had the power to do something about it. You certainly didn't want to say anything. You were already walking on eggshells with her, the last thing you wanted to do was upset her more.

You bring the phone up to your ear, a shaky 'Hello?' leaving your overly chapped lips.

"Hi, sweetie. It's Dad," his voice is as shaky as yours, and he sounds choked up.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"I can't do it anymore, Y/N. I cannot listen to her and let her treat you this way anymore."

Your heart breaks for him. All throughout your childhood they had been a happily married couple. The love they had for each other was immense.

"I'm getting a divorce, and I'm taking your brother with me."

Your heart is so conflicted. On one hand, this is the greatest news you've ever heard. You'll get your dad and brother back! On the other hand, you'd never wish divorce on anyone. While this experience would not be exceptionally hard for you, given your nonexistent relationship with your mom and the fact that you don't even live at home, it would certainly be hard for the people you love.

"After your band mates came and tried to talk some sense into your mother, it made me realize how blind I've been these past few years. She’s been so mean and cruel to you, and I just sat by and watched."

You don't know how your little brother will take it. Your mom has spoiled him with everything under the sun. This will surely devastate him.

Your dad, too, this can't be easy for him. You know it's not easy for him from the quiet sobs you hear on the other side of the phone.

You're not sure what to say as he continues to cry. "Dad-"

"Honey, please forgive me," he pleads, his voice cracking. "I've let your mom walk all over us for years now, and I'm so sorry."

"Dad, it's ok. It's not your fault."

He's quiet for a moment. "I have Ben at Grandma's house now. Can you come? He's crying so hard. It wasn't easy to leave, your mom put up a fight and was screaming. I think it scared him a bit."

"Yes, Dad, I will be there as soon as possible. I'm leaving now. Can you send me the address so I can give it to the driver?"

He sends the address and you hang up, promising you'll see him in just a few minutes.

You hurriedly put your shoes on and run down the stairs. All your members are sat in the living room, some video game lighting up the television.

"My dad’s getting a divorce, and he has my brother at my grandma's right now. I have to go see them," you quickly ramble out, looking in your purse to make sure you have everything.

The guys are stunned at your demeanor. They haven't seen you move with such determination in weeks.

"I'm coming with you," Chan says matter-of-factly, standing from the sofa to put his shoes on.

"Chan, you don't have-"

"I want to. I just want to make sure everything's alright," he sighs at the look you give him, your eyes boring into his. "I'll even stay in the car."

You roll your eyes at that, but you don't fight him. You suppose it doesn't really matter if he's there; you just want to see your family again.

~ ~ ~

One short car ride later and you're jumping out of the car, the seatbelt flinging back against the door. Your brother waits for you on the porch, the biggest smile gracing his lips.

You sprint at him, swinging him off his feet and embracing him tightly. "I've missed you sissy!" he cheers, his little arms wound tight around your neck. His tears have dried since your phone call with your dad, leaving little streaks down his cheeks.

"I've missed you more, Bubby," you tell him, thankful to have him in your arms again. Your eyes crinkle as your mouth splits into the biggest smile.

Your dad comes outside upon your arrival and wraps the two of you in a hug, giving you a tight squeeze. His eyes meet Chan's over your shoulder, who decided to step just outside of the car.

'Thank you,' your dad mouths to Chan, giving him a grateful smile.

‘Thank you’ for what? Chan wasn’t exactly sure. Bringing you to him? He’d do it a million times over. Taking care of you? He’d never let you struggle without him by your side.

Chan gives him a thumbs up in reply, just happy to see you happy again.

[ericshoney]

Secret Sister ~ Chapter two

Summary: After spending some time with your birth family, you join Nick, Matt and Chris in one of their YouTube videos.

Warnings: possible swearing, nicknames, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been over a week since you reunited with your birth family and things had been going well. You were getting along with your brothers and parents.

After having some time with you, Nick, Matt and Chris knew they would have to break the news to the fans. You were chilling on the sofa with Trevor curled up besides you, as the three walked in.

"Hey, we've got something to ask you." Nick said, taking a seat next to you.

"What's up?" You asked.

"So you know we showed you our YouTube channel?" Chris reminded.

"Yeah." You said.

"Would you consider joining a video with us, explaining everything to the fans and maybe doing like a Q&A?" Matt suggested.

"Yeah, sounds really cool!" You exclaimed.

"But I only have one concern." You added.

"What?" Nick called.

"What if the fans think we're lying, or hate me?" You asked.

"Then they can fuck off." He answered, making you laugh.

"You've got four older brothers who can fight your corner!" Chris shouted.

"Two minutes bud, two minutes." You said, patting his shoulder.

"I'm still older!" He shouted.

"I honestly don't believe that." Matt muttered.

You laughed and followed them to the car, ready to film the video. Nick got the camera as Matt drove to the car park. You were still in slight shock finding out you were a quadruplet, but also, your brothers do YouTube.

When you arrived, Matt parked the car as Chris set up the camera. Nick went to check if it was in focus as you sat, picking at your nails, something you did when you were anxious.

"You okay, kid?" Matt called from the front.

"Hmm? Yeah, just thinking." You answered.

"Don't worry about the comments, we barely look at them anyways." Chris said.

You nodded as Nick got back into the car. Matt pressed record on the camera as the guys did their intro.

"What is good Sturniolo fam!" Nick exclaimed.

"That's a new one." Matt said with a laugh.

"Shh." Now today, we have an announcement. We have some news!" Nick continued.

"Before you say shit and call us liars, we aren't. Don't leave shitty comments either!" Chris exclaimed.

"As you can see, we have a guest. This is Y/n Sturniolo." Matt introduced you, as you waved at the camera.

"She's our sister. Nick, Chris and I always thought we were triplets but actually we're quadruplets with Y/n." He continued.

"You can't really sit there and say shit or call us liars, I mean look at her! She looks like us!" Nick shouted, pulling you into a side hug.

"So today's video is really random. I know I said earlier to you we might do a Q&A but we can save that for the next video, the fans could send some questions in too." Nick said to you, making you nod.

"Okay, so we're just gonna talk random stuff?" You asked.

"That's a regular Sturniolo car video." Chris answered.

You laughed and nodded. Nick then shouted about some random thought he had. As you all continued chatting, throwing comments, reactions and thought out, you felt at ease. You laughed and joked with your brothers, as if you were never separated from them and totally forgot you were filming a car video with them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[barbiesmuse]

WELCOME TO NEW YORK ₊✧⋆

;ֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָjohn price + reader

summary: in which john finds a new column in the paper quite interesting, although he isn't the target audience he keeps coming back for more.

tags: perv!john, reader is somewhat slutty (but aren't we all?), talk of sex, reader and john masturbate, perv!john has a voice kink, john is also a hoe, reader is astute, john is painted in a more submissive way in reader's mind, when the true smut comes it won't be this way obv!! this is long as hell and i hate the way i wrote the end but i needed to get this out, reader being sexy as usual!!

HEAD BARBIE'S ANNOUNCEMENTS: hi gorgeous gorgeous people!! this is so silly and unexpected of me but with sex and the city being added to netflix we're going to celebrate!! i'm actually moving to NYC because this barbie has a boyfriend!! alright, now you may read. it's very long so beware!! also yes i did steal the name of carrie's blog i am not that creative i fear!! love you always, xoxo natty.

ps. y'alls little reblogs for better version headcanons & the fic were absolutely adorable i read them over and over!! your ideas and continuations were so so smart. i loved it soso much. if u ever have any thoughts send an ask!! thank you thank you thank you!! ₊✧⋆

Wednesday, October 20th.

John Price was a man who liked routine. If anything was even remotely out of order all hell would break loose. John saw it as a silly quirk, his past partners saw it as a deal breaker. Which is how he ended up here, watching his seventh girlfriend this year pack her things. He watched as she packed her belongings in a cluttered manner. He couldn't help but cringe at the sight. Her clothes overflowing as she stuffs them in the cardboard box. As she heads for the door, she and John make eye contact. John can't help but chuckle at her glare and wave her off, he told himself again and again that he was getting too damn old for this. As the girl walks out of his condo John can't help but sigh. It wasn't like he was attached to these women, they were just simple sleeves for his cock until he found a pretty little housewife. John runs a hand over his face, his beard hairs scratching against his palm. He lets out a low grunt before heading to bed, as he trudges up the stairs he spots the woman's red lace panties. He let out a quiet chuckle before picking them up and stuffing them inside his pocket. She'd left them on purpose. After all, John was a hard man to get over. He would worship you like you were a goddess, all to sneak out the next morning. Thursday, October 21st.

As John made his way into headquarters he picked up the newspaper, exchanged pleasantries with the secretaries, and even gave the nurse a nod. He was in a good mood, and when John was in a good mood all was right in the world. The sound of his heavy boots filled the halls as he made his way to the break room for his morning coffee. He threw the newspaper on the table before grabbing a mug, as Soap walks in he can't help but roll his eyes. He did not have the time for his childish banter. Not after he spent the whole night fisting himself with those red lace panties.

“Mornin' Cap, have a good weekend?” Soap says as he comes beside his Captain. He smelled of liquor and sex, his hair was disheveled, and his pants were unzipped. John let out a scoff before pouring the rest of the coffee into his mug. “No, but I can see you've had a good morning,” John says before licking the coffee that drips from the black pot. Soap lets out an embarrassed chuckle and takes a seat next to Price as he sits at a table.

Soap opens the newspaper and is met with the same column every time, written by a young female journalist. Soap would know because his wife practically lived off of it. He lets out an annoyed groan before turning to see any big news. There was none, the only interesting thing on the paper that morning was that damn fashion and gossip column. John quirked an eyebrow up at his exasperated expression, he didn't want to know, but the awkward silence in the room was slowly eating away at him.

“Sorry Cap, s' just this damn fashion column is what takes up the paper these days. S' all my wife talks about with her friends, I mean I get it. The journalist is a fuckin' babe. S' just annoyin', continue y'r coffee.” Soap rambles, although John doesn't really listen after the mention of Soap's wife. That woman had been eyeing him since Soap had joined the Task Force. John nods before speaking firmly, “We've got a briefing in less than twenty minutes, I suggest you fix yourself up now unless you have a kink for embarrassment.” Soap nods before scurrying out of the break room.

John grabs the newspaper and his eyes widen at the black and white picture of you. He could only imagine what you looked like in person, how fucking beautiful you were. You looked as if you belonged in the Louvre. His eyes trail down to your column, he can't help but chuckle at the name.

❝𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲!❞ The guide to Vogue, sex, and cigarettes.

John was more than intrigued he was captivated by you, even from words you had caught him by the balls. As he continued reading he couldn't help but start to wonder who you were. How did you get to be this mysterious woman who he craved to know more about? John grabbed the paper and left the break room, his coffee now cold and lonely. Hell, who needed it when you had given him just enough energy by showing the tiniest bit of cleavage! John walks into the briefing room as if he's in a hurry. He looks around at the men before mumbling, “Meetings canceled.” In ten minutes you had thrown John completely off of his game. Where was the order and routine he usually lived for? Had he thrown it all out the window for a pretty little minx such as yourself? Of course, because when John saw something he liked; he needed to have it. No matter what it took. John barges into his office and locks his door, he couldn't be seen reading some girly column in the paper. His eyes trailed down to your column, and he began reading his eyes squinting at the use of your tiny font.

❝𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲!❞ The guide to Vogue, sex, and cigarettes.

Why do all men have to be so complicated? I swear we women deserve a raise for the constant bullshit we put up with. It's almost impossible to find a man who isn't trying to keep his penis hard! Although I degrade men usually, one of my closest friends just got engaged! He's one of the few who deserve a pat on the back. The engagement was out of a movie almost! Although it's nowhere near close to happening for me, I can live vicariously through my friends. As I sit here and right to you I can't help but wonder if there actually is a man out there for me? I'm not as scary as I sound, I just have a passion for women's rights! What's so scary about that? It's not as if I'm some lock-ness monster trying to lure people in, just a woman who knows her worth. On a happier note, I've found a new bar called the “Cafe Society.” They open at five o'clock every day! They have some of the best espresso martinis I've ever had, and I consider myself a connoisseur of espresso martinis! I go every Thursday, come see me! Although this month's column is short I'll be back and better than ever before you know it. Might just need a man to pick me up and show me a good time, until then you might not know where to find me most of the time; but you can always find me on the 21st. Lots of love.

On the twenty-first, your column was in the newspaper every month. Finally, something else to look forward to besides fucking brainless women. He usually didn't like women who put up a fight, but you, God, there was something about you. You were such a breath of fresh air, you had opinions. He could tell you were able to hold a conversation. You were a woman. Not a girl, a fucking woman. John looked at the date, Thursday. What a perfect little setup, almost as if you planned it just for him. At least, that's what John would like to think. The time was currently 12:35 pm, he could last until five, only for a pretty girl like you.

Thursday, October 21st. 5:00.

As John walks into Cafe Society the first thing he sees is you, setting your purse on the bar counter and making conversation with the bartenders. He figured they knew you well considering you were a regular. He walked over to the bar, exhaling slowly. He takes a seat on the stool next to you. His cologne gently clouded your nose. You look over at him, your gorgeous eyes meet his cold brown eyes and he swears he's in heaven. “Captain John Price, a pleasure to meet you,” he trails off, waiting to be told your name. After hearing your name he swears he's been struck by Cupid himself. He can hear the winged baby chanting your name in his ear. Had you cast a spell on him? As a soft smile paints your sweet face he knows he's struck gold. You turn away, not sparing him another glance for the rest of the night. John's palms are sweaty, had he not charmed you enough? You were an enigma to him, and he was determined to figure you out.

As you get up from your seat, slinging your mini purse around your shoulder John smirks. You were such a pretty sight, the way your curves filled your skirt made him spiral. You shoot him a tight-lipped smile before walking out, your heels clicking echoing in his mind. He quickly gets up, placing a hundred-dollar bill in the bar to pay for his drink before rushing to find you. There you were, looking around for a taxi, he assumed.

“Ending the night so early?” John says, a chuckle escaping his lips as he accidentally startles you. He places his large hand on your shoulder. You let out a soft giggle, looking up at him with those same fiery eyes. “Well, unfortunately, the man at the bar didn't speak to me. I assumed he was married.” You say, a grin resting on your face. You were witty, John didn't usually like that in a woman. He liked more submissive women. But you, you were different. You held your own, you would be just fine without a husband. At least that's what you kept telling yourself after the failed relationships.

“Quite far from married, darlin',” He begins, his hand trailing down to your lower back. You shiver at his touch and he hesitates. You give him a reassuring glance and begin to walk, you wait for him to follow before letting out a playful sigh. “You coming or what?” You say and smile as he quickly catches up. The two of you walk side by side, a comforting silence cast over the two of you. “So besides being a captain, what do you do in your free time?” You ask, a bashful smile painting your face as your pinkies touch briefly.

“Not much, work usually takes up a lot of my time. What about you? What do you do for a living?” He asks, you look up at him and as you pass a newspaper stand you pick up a paper and point to your face. “Journalist, Mr. Captain.” You say with a cheeky smile, almost as if you knew he knew. It hurt your ego he didn't know who you were, almost everyone did. “Ah, interesting,” He says calmly, his eyes trailing down to your breasts, fuck. They were even better in person. He couldn't help but mentally facepalm as he felt a hard-on begin to grow.

“Quite,” you say, pronouncing your “T.” sharply. The silence is now not-so-comforting. Before you can say anything John quickly speaks, a hint of panic in his voice. What had changed in the last twenty-one seconds? The size of his hard-on, that's what. “As much as I'd love to stay n' chat doll, I've got to get home. Th-the missus needs me.” He says before quickly walking to his car. The missus? Didn't he say he wasn't married?

Men, what a bunch of fucking assholes.

Thursday, October 21st. 11:00.

As you lie in bed, your computer resting to your side, glasses perched on your face. Legs spread, lip drawn between your teeth you search for everything there is to know about Captain John Price. How old is he, what he truly does for a living, and if he is married or not. Various pictures of random men come up, none of them the sexy captain you'd met only a few hours earlier. You sigh and let out a sexually frustrated moan, how could there be absolutely no pictures of him. Just as you're about to give up you spot a picture of him with a woman, they're kissing and they seem to be in a tropical setting.

Intrigue takes over and you decide to click on her page, double-checking your incognito window before scrolling. You'd hit the jackpot. Several pictures of the woman and John flood your screen, some are more sensual others are simple selfies. Yet as you scroll you check for one thing, a ring and or wedding pictures. A small smile on your face as you find none. Gosh, he looks so damn sexy. It's shameful, truly. But you can't help but dip your hand down into your panties. Your pointer and middle finger rub gentle circles on your bud.

You can't help but slip a finger inside yourself at the thought of him touching you. He was just so perfect, you could only imagine how his rough beard would feel against your pussy as he laps at it. The burning feeling would feel good, you'd come right on his tongue. He'd be so needy for you, humping against the bed to get himself off while he pleasures you. He'd whimper against your clit, a chuckle escaping his lips as you whine from him blowing cold air on your pretty pussy.

Oh, you just know he'd touch you so well.

As John sits in his bed, his gray sheets crinkled as he fucks his fist at the sight of you. He'd searched the internet for you, needing to know everything about you. You made him crazy, you carried yourself in such a polite manner, he almost felt ashamed for wishing it was your hand wrapped around his veiny cock. You'd take him so well, he was sure of it. A sinister smirk painted his face as he clicked on an interview of you, it was recent and fuck you looked perfect. He couldn't help but imagine your plump lips wrapped around his cock, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat as he face-fucked you.

Not to mention how well you'd take him, you were such a good girl. Your moans would be so pretty against his pillow, he'd fuck you from behind so well you'd be shaking when he was done with you. Your sweet sounds only making him come quicker, he was sure he wouldn't be able to last long. And your voice, your sweet voice. You might've been a little firecracker but your voice was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. If only you'd moan his name, just for him. One day, you would and he was damn sure of it.

As you come down from your high you can't help but imagine the title for next month's column, “My shameful addiction to Mr. Captain.”

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 15

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: Thank you as always for the lovely responses on the previous chapter! It was a long one, so thank you for sticking through with me. We're about to lighten up a little with some Christmas spirit! ❄️🎁

**Also, if you're a fan of The Boys (and Soldier Boy), there's an awesome book you can check out, called Supes Ain’t Always Heroes: Inside the Complex Characters and Twisted Psychology of The Boys.

If you want to learn more about the book (including cast interviews and a character study on Soldier Boy), I wrote a review about it here!

Otherwise, on to some more firefighter!Dean!

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, tinge of angst, hurt/comfort, lots of feels.

Part 15: “The Good Part”

“How many damn arrests does that make?” Daniel asked. He gripped his pool cue with both hands while he leaned on it.

His son stood at the other end of the pool table, lining up his shot. He paused to think.

“Six,” Nick replied. His cue released, and it knocked two of his balls into the pocket.

“Six,” Daniel repeated, while Nick came his way to find an angle for his next turn.

Daniel shook his head. His lips were angrily pursed. His eyes might’ve been on the pool game, but he was playing chess in his mind. He had underestimated John Winchester for far too long, it seemed.

The man was stubborn as all hell. And he’d been busy lately, getting “Azazel’s” men busted for all manners of bullshit.

“Alastair’s mole says Winchester’s been calling in favors from his old friends in Narcotics, trying to bust our small fries,” Nick reported. “Getting them on everything from petty theft to drug possession, with intent to sell. But it’s nothing we can’t pull ‘em out of.”

“Time, money, added risk,” Daniel cited on his fingers all the reasons why John Winchester was a pain in his ass. “It’s only a matter of time before they get a warrant to rip apart Savage & Co., sweep the whole damn building. For forensic evidence, our files, all the jazz.”

Daniel’s fingers drummed thoughtfully against his chin. “A damn cop thinks he’s being cute.”

Nick missed his second turn. His hand fell against his thigh in annoyance, but he looked up.

“Dad, it’s your move.”

Daniel rubbed at his chin. His eyes were no longer seeing the board in front of him. Eventually, they slid up and met his son’s gaze.

“We’re going to start from the beginning,” he said.

Nick’s face gave away his confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Daniel just smiled.

It was Christmas Day, and John was late. Sam and Dean were used to that drill, so they weren’t expecting him until dinnertime.

Meanwhile, it gave you a chance to find your footing as you got to know Eileen. She had helped you bake the pies that were now cooling on the counter (pumpkin and berry crumble), and a few of the side dishes for dinner. Sam had covered cleaning up the rest of the house, while Dean tackled his favorites: the ham and the mac and cheese.

Now the guys were in the living room watching football while you and Eileen were still in the kitchen, decorating some gingerbread cookies you two had made. She enjoyed it; doing holiday crafts with her students had been bringing out her artistic side, she told you. You were happy for the help and the conversation.

You later tried to cover up your snort of laughter as she finished telling you the story of how Dean once dared Sam to wear women’s underwear for a whole week.

If he managed it, Dean had promised to do all the household chores for three months. If Sam couldn’t make it the whole week, then he would face the consequences: Dean would tell their dad about the bet.

“How old were they?” you asked.

Eileen scoffed. “Sam was a senior in college.”

You burst out laughing again. “So too old, is the answer… Did he win?”

Eileen gave you a mischievous smile.

“He did,” Dean said, as he appeared in the kitchen doorway with a familiar smirk. “I’ve got photographic evidence. It was a cheetah print thong, in case you were wondering.”

Your eyes widened on a laugh. “Oh my God.”

Cheetahlicious, you couldn’t help joking in your mind. Even if you’d rather not think of Sam wearing a pair of Victoria Secret’s best.  

Eileen giggled with you. Dean’s amusement gave way to curiosity as he eyed the little gingerbread men you two were icing. You warned him off with your eyes, but it took Eileen batting his hand when he tried to steal a cookie.

“Hey! Wait ‘til after dinner,” she said.

Dean pouted. “Come on, don’t be stingy.”

Rolling her eyes, Eileen sighed.

“You’re like one of my kids,” she said, while signing with her hands. But she caved and handed him a cookie. “Here. To tide you over.”

Dean smiled and signed back to her in ASL, Thank you.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he said. He leaned down to kiss her cheek in a brotherly gesture.

He shot you a wink before taking a bite of his prize. You shook your head at him, even though you were smiling. He came around to your side of the table. His hand rested on your back and he bent down towards your ear.  

“I actually came over for you,” he said. “Got a minute?”

Your brows rose, but you turned to Eileen in askance. “I’ll be right back. Is that okay?”

She nodded and made an “OK” gesture. “Of course.”

You smiled and let Dean lead you out of your chair, and even out of the apartment. He made sure you both grabbed your coats by the front door.

“Where are we going?” you asked. While you put on your coat over your sweater and jeans, you didn’t notice him grabbing two sets of keys.

“Just downstairs. No big deal,” he said, hefting on his own leather jacket.

You eyed him with some suspicion, but you walked with him down to the elevators and let him keep you close to his side. He smelled like the cologne you bought him for Christmas, and he was already wearing the new watch as well.

You’d struggled to find him the right gift. Nothing felt quite enough after everything he’d done for you the last few months. He’d assured you that he was grateful for both gifts, and had even tried to say the watch looked too expensive. (You’d shut him up with a kiss.)

Now, you had to wonder what he was up to as he led you into the parking lot, but not toward Baby. Instead, you two stopped in front of a shiny silver Chevy parked in a guest spot.

“Dean, what’d you do?” you asked, both excited and worried. He shot you a grin and dangled the keys in front of you.

“You like her?” he asked. His eyes were dancing. “You could keep her, if you ask nicely.”

Your face slackened. You looked between him and the sleek looking car.

“What?” You covered your mouth with both hands. Even after a few moments, your brain was still having a hard time computing. “No…what? Oh my God!”

You grabbed onto his jacket, just in case your legs failed you. Dean laughed and gathered you up in his arms. By the time you peeled your eyes away from the silver beauty to look up at your boyfriend, there were tears already swimming in your eyes.

“Dean, this is really too much. Where’d you find—”

“Bobby had it sitting in his garage for years,” he explained. His hand came up to brush your cheek, and the tears there. “I cleaned her up, dropped in a new engine, safe-proofed with new tires, new airbags, the works. Got her purring like a kitten.”

Your eyes grew a little wider with every admission. Then you softened, gripping the edges of his jacket while you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

“How much did he sell it to you for?” you asked. Dean dropped his head back with a sigh.

“Don’t you wanna take a test ride before we start hagglin’?”

You lightly smacked his chest. “Hey. How much?”

He let out another heavy sigh, but you eventually got it out of him. While the price wasn’t as bad as you might’ve expected, you still shook your head.

“I still have a decent chunk of insurance money left. I’m giving you at least half,” you said.

Dean shook his head. “This is my gift to you.”

Your lips pursed, despite the smile that wanted to peek through.

“Nice try,” you said wryly. “You already got me perfume.”

“That was just the decoy.” He grinned, and held you a bit tighter against him. He nodded towards the car. “She’s the main event.”

You wanted to sigh, but this conversation wasn’t over. You were definitely not letting him buy you a whole new…old car. You turned to look at it again.

“What model is this?” you asked.

“2002 Camaro Z28,” Dean rattled off. It sounded impressive, but you didn’t know much about cars.

He let go of you so you could get a closer look. Your hand passed over the hood, but didn’t touch, as if you were afraid of staining the paint with your fingerprints. He had to admit, he’d waxed it up good and managed to get rid of a lot of superficial nicks and scratches.

What he said was true though; Bobby had given him a frankly ridiculous deal. Because when Dean had told him what you’d been through after the car accident, dealing with your grandfather’s passing, and now your ever-mounting expenses, Bobby hadn’t let him walk away from Singer Salvage with anything else but this car. He’d even helped Dean get the new parts he needed to fix it up.

“Is it automatic or manual?” you asked, trying to peer through the driver’s window. “I haven’t driven stick in a hell of a long time.”

Dean came up from behind you and his warm hand found your hip. You let him draw you back into his arms, leaning against his chest.

His lips were close to your ear when he said, “I think you’re damn good at driving stick.”

It took you a second, but the heavily laden innuendo in his deep voice was hard to miss. You uttered a laugh and swatted his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said. You were still smiling when you turned and twined your arms around his neck. Then you leaned up for a kiss—one that kept getting deeper with the full force of your gratefulness, and your love for this man.

“It’s an automatic,” he answered, between kisses. You giggled against his lips.

You barely felt the chill on the air. Your heart was beating fast, even when you pulled away from him. Your eyes slowly opened and met his. He smiled down at you and curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. As usual, you had most of it clipped up.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was quiet, but steady.

You let out a shaky breath. Emotion was clogging your throat, making your tears burn anew.

“This is a bit more than a Christmas present,” you said. He gave a more self-deprecating smile.

“Well, it’s also kind of an apology,” he said. “For getting you mixed up in my ‘family business.’”

He still felt guilt beyond belief for putting you in danger. For your life being threatened. For being the reason you couldn’t go home.

You just shook your head. Your hand raised to press against his cheek. Your thumb drew tenderly along his chin.

“I thought you said you were part of my family now?” you said. “We’ll figure this out together, like everything else.”

Dean’s eventual smile lightened you, and his kiss warmed you down to your toes. 

“If you want, let’s go for a ride after dinner,” he said.

It was your turn to smirk. Your hands migrated under his jacket and teased at his belt.

“Well, I’m certainly down for a ride,” you said.

Dean laughed and squeezed your hips. “All right. I’m puttin’ you on my naughty list.”

When John finally arrived, the brothers welcomed him in first with big man hugs and good-natured ribbing for him being so damn late.

In Sam’s words, Upholding a Winchester family tradition.

John had taken that with a chuckle. “Smells damn good in here.”

“Yeah, food’s been done for an hour,” Dean prodded at him again. His grin betrayed his teasing, however. His welcoming hand stayed on his dad’s shoulder until they reached the living room, where Sam had set up a longer fold out table and chairs to function as the makeshift dining room, since the table near the kitchen only seated three.

There you were opening a bottle of Jack Daniels. You smiled up at John.

“Figured you were more of a whiskey than wine kind of guy,” you said. You were a bit nervous to see him again, no doubt with flour in your hair and frosting staining your hands. He clasped your shoulder with a hint of a smile.

“You’d be right. Good to see you, darlin’,” he said.

“You too,” you replied. Despite the fact that the first and last time you two had met, it had been in front of your house as the police rifled through your life, looking for more explosives. He graciously didn’t bring that up as he greeted Eileen next.

Once dinner was on the table, there was a lot of catching up between the brothers and their father while you and Eileen continued talking, even through dessert.

“This really is amazing,” she told you, pointing her fork at her slice of berry crumble. “I can see why you went to culinary school.”

You blushed as Sam, Dean, and even John echoed her praise. All three men had generous slices of both pies. 

“Well, thank you. I’m glad you guys enjoy it,” you said, and your smile was genuine.

You loved making good food, but you loved feeding people even more. Whether it was a simple hearty soup or a rich dessert, you liked putting smiles on their faces and giving them a good experience; one they could share with their family and friends. Even better if it was your family.

Or as Dean would say, Your people. 

To you, that was life.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you opened up a bakery you’d make a killing in this town,” Dean said. He nudged your hand with the one that held his fork; it held a precarious piece of pumpkin pie.

You shot him an amused look.

“Don’t you look at me sideways, I’m serious,” he said, laughing a little, but his gaze was steady.

Your cheeks warmed against your will. He believed in your dream, even when you couldn’t quite let yourself.

“Hey, if you ever want to look into applying for a loan, I could help,” Sam said, earning your attention. “I have a friend who works at a bank.”

Your brows raised. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we were pre-law together back in college, but he figured he was better with numbers.”

You smiled. “Well, it would make it easier knowing I was dealing with your friend.”

“Yeah, his name’s Brady. Let me know if you want me to call him,” he said.

You bit your lip, but you nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe you should start to believe in yourself, just a little bit more.

“This was all real delicious,” John said to you, when you came back from bringing the leftovers to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already arguing about who was doing the dishes and who was drying them. Meanwhile, Eileen was putting away the food (and probably rolling her eyes).

“Yeah, it was a team effort for sure,” you replied. “Dean’s actually a really good cook.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, well, he didn’t get that from me. I can barely boil a damn egg.”

You smiled to yourself; you could imagine Dean got it from his mother then.

Meanwhile, John was watching you stack the empty plates as he grew more contemplative. He’d always been proud of his sons. They were good men, with strong heads on their shoulders.

He often looked at Sam and saw that he seemed happy. Despite the demands of his job, he was learning to balance that with the life he led with Eileen. As a father, John looked forward to the day when they made a firm foundation, taking the next step towards building a life together.

But Dean had seemed to him, a little unstable. John was still proud of his eldest, but while he’d seen a glimpse of it that day at your house, he saw it even more today. Like his son finally had an anchor, tethering him to dry land.

Even so, he couldn’t help heaving a sigh. And he asked you something he knew he shouldn’t.

“Have you given any more thought to filing a report on Nick Savage?” he asked.

You paused in your plate and cup stacking. You looked up at him with a frown, but you thought about your words before you said something rude.

“Yes, I did,” you replied. “I decided my life and my peace were more important.”

He let out a short sigh. “I understand—”

“I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think you do,” you said. Your words were matter-of-fact, if a tad more sharp than you meant them to be. Your hands were starting to tremble.

You crossed your arms to try and steady yourself, but Dean ended up doing just that, by joining your side and resting a hand at the small of your back. He was frowning, glancing between you and his father.

“Tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are,” Dean said, addressing John in particular. “Not on damn Christmas.”

“Like you said, it’s her decision,” John replied. His gaze once again focused on you.

You let out a breath, mostly of exasperation.

“I’m going to bottom-line it for you. If I report that man, and you can’t guarantee me a job and safety until it’s all over, then I’m not poking the bear,” you said. “I plan to keep my head down until I can find another job. Until then, you can have at him all you want. Just leave me out of it.”

Part of you felt selfish. You knew what John was trying to accomplish, and you knew how personal this fight was for him, and for Sam and Dean for that matter. You just couldn’t shake your gut instincts here. You knew Nick far too well by now, and you didn’t want to underestimate him again.

“I agree,” said Dean. You gave him a grateful look.

John conceded with a nod, but all of you knew he wasn’t satisfied. It became a bitter ending to an otherwise brilliant day after he left for the night.

In your mind, it wasn’t quite over yet though. You had a plan up your sleeve for one Dean Winchester.

Sam and Eileen had their own time together while you and Dean went for a drive in your new car. You’d have to transfer your plate and registration and insurance, so it was technically an “illegal” drive, but it was already late and traffic was scarce.

By the time you pulled back into the parking lot, you were smiling from ear to ear, and Dean was giving you that smug grin that said, Aw yeah, I did good.

You couldn’t even fault him for it, because he did exactly that.

Even when you and Dean were getting ready for bed, it didn’t quite feel real. You were living with your boyfriend of just a few months, you now had a new car, and a crime lord had threatened your life.

You chose to focus on the new car. And on your boyfriend, who sat on the edge of his side of the bed, rubbing his right shoulder through his shirt. You knew it must still be sore, though he likely wouldn’t admit it.

Hence, you were about to enact Phase 1 of your plan…

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

You withdrew your hand from his arm, but you spoke close to his ear.

“Are you asking?”

He let out a small sigh, despite his lingering smile.

“All right. Will you please give me a lil’ massage?” he asked.

He couldn’t see your triumphant smile, but you happily kissed his cheek.

“I sure can,” you replied. You laid gentle hands on his shoulders, however briefly. “Stay right here. Don’t move, but take off your shirt.”

“All right, Miss Bossy,” he grumbled. You knew he was teasing by the amused look he threw your way.

“I thought you liked that,” you teased back.

You climbed off the bed before he could playfully grab you, and you giggled all the way to the bathroom. There you began Phase 2 of your plan. 

First, you collected a few different bottles from your designated drawer under the sink. Then, you made a quick wardrobe change, after popping back into the bedroom to grab something from your nightstand.

You also connected your phone to the speaker on his nightstand and put some music on a low volume. It was a playlist he’d made and shared with you a while ago, with songs he thought you’d like. The Eagles’ “Take It to the Limit” was definitely on the list.

By the time you returned to Dean, he was indeed shirtless, still in his sweatpants, and checking his watch.  

“I’m here, I’m here,” you said. You climbed across the bed with your small haul—a difficult feat with your hands full, but you managed.

Dean turned to look at the bottles of moisturizer you dropped next to him on the bed. He rose a brow.

“Twilight Woods. Japanese Cherry Blossom. Appletini. Are these my only options?” he asked. His face was half bemused, half reluctant.

You almost burst out laughing. “Which one strikes your fancy?”

He scratched the back of his head. You opened the second bottle first (your personal favorite), so he could smell.

“Not bad actually,” he muttered. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t giggle, but you managed to open the other two for him to get a whiff.

“Eh, the first one I guess,” he said.

Japanese Cherry Blossom. AKA: a classic from Bath & Body Works.

You finally had to laugh. “Just kidding. I’ve got this.”

You held up a jar you’d been hiding behind him. Its logo said: Massage Oil.

“I just wanted to see which girly moisturizer you secretly wanna slather all over yourself,” you said.

Dean shot you a wry look, but only then did he see what you were wearing.

“Oh, hold up,” he uttered.

Your hair was let loose, how you knew he liked, and you’d teased it out a little. You’d had to give away the red lingerie you’d bought, to rid both of you of its lingering memories of your work Christmas party. Instead, you’d found something in a vibrant emerald green: satin and lace.

Dean’s hand reached for your waist, probably to bring you closer. But you playfully slapped his hand.

“Eh-eh! Not yet,” you said to his surprised face. You smiled. “I have a plan for you tonight.”

Slowly, he smirked. His eyes still dipped to take in the rest of you, from your pretty face, to exposed skin and cleavage, to shiny satin that clung to your curves and draped down to mid-thigh. 

“I can see,” he said. His voice was a notch deeper. “Merry Christmas to me.”

Despite your blush and growing smile, you turned him back around by his shoulders.

“Just relax.”

You let your hands drift up the back of his neck to slide your fingers through his hair. There you began with a slow, gentle massage of his head. You felt him take a deep breath.

You couldn’t see it, but Dean’s eyes had closed at your ministrations. He secretly really liked the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It made his shoulders loosen; with tension he didn’t know he had releasing from the neck down.

Aside from the rigors of his job, he also had to work out and condition his body to keep up his stamina. He probably didn’t spend as much time as he should on this aspect of things, making sure he wasn’t overtaxing himself.

He appreciated what you were doing though. He knew you cared about him, that you loved him. But he liked that you were also a caring person, who tried to take care of him. Dean hadn’t really had that…from anyone before. Sometimes, it was hard for him to let you.

…Damn, we really got too much in common, he realized.

When you migrated back down his neck, your hands left for a moment to gather up some oil. It was warm against his skin when you started between his shoulders, digging with the heel of your hands.

He groaned deep, surprising even himself.

Behind him, your brows were furrowed. “You’re really knotted up here. When was the last time you had a massage?”

Dean chuckled. “Never.”

You frowned. “Hmm. Okay, we’re definitely doing this more often.”

“No complaints from me,” he said with a grin.

Of course, you gave special attention to his right shoulder. You were gentler there, asking what was tender and what felt good, or too much. By then you had an easier time getting the truth out of Dean. He let you know when the pressure was too much, and you even helped him stretch out that arm until the muscles and joints were warmed up and the pain was gone.

You encouraged him to lie on his stomach in the middle of the bed, so you could start on his back. Your hands glided down planes of muscle and smooth slopes while you straddled his thighs. The only sounds you heard from him were occasional moans and rumbling, pleased sounds. That was also what let you know that he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Okay, turn over,” you said, smiling when he groaned in protest. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

“What the hell’s the good part then?” he asked. His voice was muffled in the mattress, but when he turned around, flopping onto his back, his eyes once again took in the green satin and seemed to remember what your real intentions were.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. His grin was lazy, now that he was beyond relaxed, but his hands found purchase on your hips. You smiled down at him.

You let the remaining oil on your hands glide up his chest, until you lowered down for a kiss. It was unhurried and sweet.

“I love you, you know?” you said.

Dean swept his fingers through your hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear.

He smiled. “I’ve got some idea, yeah.”

You both laughed, soft and true. Your hand rested against his cheek as you pressed your lips to his, soft and slow at first, but soon gaining in both passion and urgency. You felt his grip on your hips tighten, grinding your center against his growing length.

He groaned. No goddamn panties on. Good.

You kissed your way from his lips to his neck. Your teeth grazed his ear while you rolled your hips into his. It was a tease for both of you, but not for long, as Dean grew impatient enough to slide his sweatpants down, followed by his hands slipping under the satin covering your thighs. They traveled further still, squeezing your breasts and rolling hardened nipples under the pads of his thumbs.

Your breath hitched, and your pleased hum was music to his ears. By now you were bracing yourself against the mattress, but you used his shoulders as leverage to raise yourself up.

You took his hands and encouraged them to bunch up the satin and pull it over your head. Dean sat up with you still in his lap, and once his strong arm wrapped around your waist, it was skin to flushed skin.

You held his face and brought him down to you for another fierce kiss. He held you tightly against him, hands splayed across your back and tangling in your hair. His arms were a cage you never wanted to escape.

But you did press away from him, just for a moment, so you could reach down between your bodies to take a firm hold of his cock. You guided it to your entrance. There was already a small flood between your legs, and your core ached for him.

There was almost no resistance when you slowly sunk your hips down and down, until he was buried deep inside you.

You both made sounds of pleasure, with labored breaths as Dean’s hand cradled your cheek. He laid open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, teeth grazing down your neck.

You clung to his shoulders and began to move, slow in the way you let almost the full length of his cock escape you, before you slid back down. Dean moaned into your skin, and you let out a shuddering sigh.

You pushed at Dean’s chest until he was lying back, and you continued rolling your hips against his. He helped you create a steady rhythm on top of him, but he was being treated to a feast of the eyes as well as the pleasure rocking through his body. He watched the way you swept your hair back. The way your eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip.

But he couldn’t stay still for long; he knew he was close enough to practically taste his end, but you had some miles to go. He gripped your thigh with one hand while the other glided up between them, to further part your folds. His fingers found your clit, circling insistently like it was a button. It had your hips stuttering.

“Oh, God,” you uttered. “Dean—”

He managed to smirk through panting breaths. “Right there, right baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You continued to move as steadily as you could, but the feeling of him deep inside combined with his talented fingers playing you like a five-string guitar—it finally made you tighten on him, shuddering deep inside. Tingles broke across your skin, zipping up your spine as you gasped.

Dean helped you with the last few hard thrusts that brought him along with you, and you felt his warmth spilling inside you.

It was a heady feeling, and you needed a moment just to recover. Even though you were on birth control, every time he came inside you still felt like a dangerous, delicious game.

But after you slid off his lap and practically rolled into his side, him welcoming you with an arm wrapping around your waist, it did make you think, as you caught your breath.

It made you think about the first time you and Dean slept together. It had been the first and last time you’d asked him to wear a condom. The next morning, he’d made a remark that still hung in the back of your mind…

“You like kids, huh?”

The thought still rattled through your mind now, after you and Dean shared a quick shower, ridding you both of the oil clinging to your skin. The thought remained when you slid into bed, under fresh sheets and thick covers, and close to your man. He cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes at the feeling.

Contrary to what this night had been, the whole “moving in together” thing hadn’t been all that easy. You two had bickered about the way he often left drawers and cabinets open and dirty clothes on the floor.

He had made remarks about your hair products taking up too much space in his drawers. Not to mention how morning routines needed to adjust because Dean liked to shower in the morning, but you needed the mirror not fogged up in order to do your makeup.

Right now, however, you had peace. You felt safe here, and you weren’t alone in a huge house filled with far too many memories.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Dean’s lips lingered on your forehead. “Hmm?”

“I know this situation is sort of temporary, me living here,” you said. “So much has happened that we haven’t really talked about…what we both want, down the line.”

He pulled back enough from you to see your face. His face betrayed a thread of confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean like…” you hesitated, but you realized you were probably going to have to be direct. “Are you a marriage and kids kind of guy? Is that even something you’ve thought about?”

Dean met your gaze. It took him a moment, but he let out a short sigh.

“You wanna know what made me want to start dating, for real?” he asked.

You blinked; you hadn’t expected that, but you nodded.

“I started thinking about what would happen if something happened to me on the job,” he said. You frowned, but before you could say anything, he raised a placating hand.

“I thought about what I’d leave behind,” said Dean. He quirked a wry smile. “It’s not much, besides my car.”

You frowned in earnest. Your hand flattened against his bare chest.

“That’s not true,” you said. “You have your brother, your father, and your friends. That’s plenty, Dean.”

He conceded that with a nod. “You’re right. But I just started thinking, maybe I want more. Like uh…like what my parents had, when they were happy. The house, each other, me and Sammy…a family.”

You couldn’t be certain in the near total darkness of the room, with only the moonlight filtering through the blinds and casting a glow behind him, but you thought you saw a shine in his eyes. Your hand crept up from beneath the covers to find his cheek. It was rough with stubble, yet you tenderly swept a thumb back and forth.

“I think that’s beautiful,” you replied.

Dean paused. He then huffed in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, hoping he could see it. 

“Then uh, is that something you’d be into?” he asked. You were amused by his tentative approach. 

“With you?” You pretended to think. Your fingers slipped into his hair. “Yeah, I think I’m into that.”

He chuckled. “Okay, then. Good to know.”

He grasped your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss into your palm.

And he spoke into the dark. “I love you too, you know.”

Your smile deepened as you rested your head against his arm. You whispered into the small space between your faces.

“Yeah, I’ve got some idea.”

AN: All righty, how'd you like that fluff overload?

...Ready for some more drama? 😏

Next Time:

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

Keep Reading: PART 16

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[somehow-a-human]

The angels don't have to ask to enter the bookshop.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

We've been operating under the assumption that BOTH the angels and demons have to ask to enter the bookshop, but I don't think that's true. I'm pretty sure it's one of our red herrings for season 2.

Continued under the cut.

When Gabriel shows up to the bookshop nude and oblivious, the doors are closed and (I believe) locked. Gabriel doesn't even know who or where he is, so he does what the default is... he knocks, and asks "Can I come in?" Aziraphale is frightened at first and tells him he can't come in but eventually our angels empathy wins and he says "Alright! Just... just get in!"

>> It's never clear that Gabriel would have physically been unable to come in otherwise.

When the Archangels show up Aziraphale literally cuts them off before they reach the door of the bookshop. Saraqael suggests, "Shall we discuss this inside?", and Aziraphale continues, "By all means. Would you like to come in?"

>> If Aziraphale hadn't rushed out to meet the angels, why wouldn't they have just walked into the bookshop like they did numerous times in season 1? Additionally I am fairly certain Aziraphale's "By all means. Would you like to come in?" was added in post via ADR. That doesn't necessarily add credence to anything, just an observation.

When Muriel arrives to surveil Aziraphale they ask, "Great! Well, could I come in and do it inside please? Only cause it's really noisy out here and I can't hear anything." Aziraphale replies, "By all means."

>> Muriel is an endearing angel who doesn't know much about life on earth, but had the shop been open and unlocked at the time of their arrival, they might've just wandered in as well.

We're never told the angels *can't* enter the bookshop explicitly like we are for the demons. We've always just assumed the same rules apply to all of the ethereal and occult beings.

But then, might I ask, why does Aziraphale tell us "Technically, this bookshop still counts as an Embassy"?

If the bookshop is still an embassy, the angels wouldn't need permission to enter, they would still have jurisdiction, and would still be able to monitor what's going on there... yes?

Let's compare this to the demons attempts to enter the bookshop, because Shax states clearly that she can't enter without permission. We see this again when she tries to get into the Bentley after it's canonically 'our car', and therefore at least partially owned by an angel.

I'm pretty sure John and Neil make a point of having the angels all ask in some way to enter, and Aziraphale seem to grant them permission as a red herring. They don't need to, but they want us to assume a false sense of security, to think that the bookshop is a safe space for our duo, outside of the reaches of both Heaven and Hell.

Technicalities are big in season 2 and I definitely think they're a huge underlying string running through all of Good Omens. In season 1, Crowley and Aziraphale stop Heaven and Hell from trying to restart Armageddon on a technicality. Gabriel and Beelzebub don't technically know if the great plan *is* the ineffable plan! It's definitely a favorite trope of Terry and Neil's to mock unfair, broken, bureaucratic systems, and Heaven and Hell are a PERFECT example of this.

**Somebody has written a meta on technicalities, I know I've seen it but I cannot for the life of me find it so if anyone could tag me so I could link it that would be brills! (Yeah that's right I'm adopting that from Charles from Dead Boy Detectives, 80's british slang ftw, I'm obsessed; please watch it, please, I need a second season.)

Neil has mentioned that the plot for season 3 might've had to be changed from he and Terry's original vision a bit, based on the political climate of the current day, and I'm sure that means we'll see some technicalities being the downfall of Heaven and Hells systems in Season 3 as well. I don't think the metatron is a villain, nor any of the other angels or demons. They're just fulfilling their function, following a set of rules, very much to a fault. This is all just God's big experiment after all, freewill, choice, eating the apple, and the angels and demons aren't exempt.

I wouldn't be surprised if there's some sort of technicality about the angels and demons themselves in season 3. We've seen that they're of the same stock, and we know Crowley at least is technically still the same person he was when he was an angel... more or less. Could the book of life end up revealing something like that the demons still exist perpetually as their angelsonas? A technicality, if you will?

Given the bookshop is still technically an embassy, is everything that happens inside observable by Heaven? Can they access the bookshop in their Earth Observation Files? There is some questionable blocking surrounding the bust in Aziraphale's bookshop, coupled with a curious record cover from Maggie's bookshop pointed out by @noneorother

Anyway... Let me know your thoughts. I haven't been posting as much, I have been mega busy and I'm trying to be thankful for it. Love you all, hope you have something nice happen for you today! <3

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 3

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: not edited, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, some cute fluff and as usual, as much angst as i can fit into a chapter <3 word count: 2.2k authors note: OK well not gonna lie, i cried writing the ending. i keep saying happy things are on the way and they are we're just slow getting there, ok? anyway i hope you all like this chapter & if you wanna, feed my writing soul and give me some feedback <3 i do have a tag list if you'd like to be tagged, there is a form below or you can leave a comment or dm me & i can tag you in the next part. thanks for all the love on this little story <3

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Co-parenting with Mat is interesting to say the least. Although, you’re not sure if you can even classify it as co-parenting because Nora still has no idea who Mat really is. She just knows that he now tags along with the two of you most places you go and she’s thrilled. Her questions for him are endless, asking about anything from hockey to what living in New York is like. She’s always been inquisitive, but this is a whole new level, even for her. 

You have mixed feelings about this because while you are happy that they’re getting along, you’re worried what will happen at the end of the summer when Mat has to return to New York. There’s no way you and Nora can follow him, and co-parenting between Vancouver and New York? Impossible. 

You’re sitting with Mat, both of you watching Nora play with some other kids on the playground. He’s been quiet but you can tell there’s something on his mind. Even though it’s been eight years, you still know Mat like the back of your hand and you know when he’s trying to decide whether or not to bring something up. You’re curious though, so you bump your knee against his and raise an eyebrow when he turns to you. 

“What’s on your mind?” you ask and he smiles sheepishly. 

“I was wondering if I could see some baby pictures,” he says quietly, and then adds, “of Nora,” as if he needs to specify. You were wondering when he was going to ask because his parents and Liana have already asked to see and asked for copies of all the pictures. Mat has been a little more reserved about most of it though, not asking questions about your pregnancy or for pictures of Nora as everyone else had.

“Yeah, of course,” you tell him, pulling your phone out and adding him to the shared album that his family is already in. 

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and you watch him swipe through pictures, pausing at certain ones although you can’t see which. You’re a little nervous because there are ultrasound photos and pictures of you throughout your pregnancy. You don’t know how he’ll react, because he still hasn’t really expanded on his feelings about you not telling him about her other than what he said at the coffee shop. He’s spoken to his parents, you know that much from Liana, but he hasn’t said anything more to you.

“She looks like you,” he eventually says, “got your nose.” 

“She has your eyes,” you counter and he smiles. 

“Yeah,” he whispers and before he can say anything else, Nora plops down on the bench next to him and peers at his phone.

“Hey! That’s me!” she exclaims, pointing to the picture of her from Halloween last year.

“Really?” you pretend to be surprised, smiling when she rolls her eyes dramatically. 

“Yes, mama. See? You said my eyes look like my dads.”

Mat tenses next to you. You’re sure he’s going to say something but instead he just smiles at Nora. 

“They’re pretty nice eyes,” he agrees, ruffling her hair before she ducks out of his reach with a giggle. 

“Mat, come push me on the swing!” she begs and he lets her pull him towards the swings without hesitation. You can’t help but grin at the pleased smile on Nora’s face and the way Mat does exactly what she wants without complaint. You know he would’ve definitely been the easygoing parent when Nora was younger and it makes you upset when you think too much about it because he should’ve been there for all her milestones and firsts. He should have been there when she crawled and then walked for the first time. He should have come with you when you dropped her off on her first day of Kindergarten and pretended he wasn't crying with you. 

There are so many firsts that he should have been next to you and it’s slowly eating away at you because you took that away from him.But it was the right thing to do. 

At least, that's what you tell yourself when you go to bed every night.

. . .

“So, how’s it going with Mat?” Jaxon asks, taking a sip of beer and giving you a knowing look. You regretted talking to Jax about your struggles the minute he started asking you the questions you didn’t want to hear. Your best friend is a little too observant sometimes and it always backfires. 

“Fine,” you say shortly, staring into your wine glass. Nora is staying at your moms tonight, so you decided to invite your friend over, hoping to get some advice that would help you feel better instead of feeling like you’re being interrogated. 

“Right,” he drawls, “that’s why you sent me a cryptic text and haven’t said anything else since “beer or wine?” right? I could be home with my boyfriend right now but you seemed like you were going to spiral and we all know exactly how that ends.” 

“Things are fine,” you grumble. “He’s been absolutely perfect with her.”

“Alright, then what’s bothering you?” 

“It’s just, I feel guilty, okay? Mat’s being better than I ever hoped to even think about and I feel like I shouldn’t have taken away his chance to be in her life before she was even born,” you say in one breath. “I keep thinking about the things he’s missed, and I feel like-”

Jax cuts you off before you can say anything else, holding up a hand. “Look, you did what you thought was best at the time. Was it necessarily fair? No. You can’t go back though, and you’re going to drive yourself insane if you keep thinking like this. You can’t change the past, but if he wants to be in her life now, and you’re okay with that, you need to make peace with your choices.”

Your shoulders deflate at his words, and you drink the remaining wine in your glass. He’s right about all of it and you hate that. You hate that he’s right and you hate that you can’t accept it.

“I need more wine,” you mumble, standing up and making your way to the kitchen. You don’t usually drink, definitely not since Nora, but you let yourself indulge every now and then. Besides, Jax has always been a bad influence. 

You’ve just finished pouring the glass when there’s a knock on your door. You look at the time on the microwave and frown, unsure who would be knocking at eleven o’clock on a Friday night. If anything was wrong, your mom would have called and you don’t have many friends that would make a late night visit. 

Abandoning your wine, you walk to the door and open it and come face to face with Mat who looks nervous and definitely like he would rather be anywhere but here. 

“Uh, hey?” you say but it sounds more like a question. He doesn't seem to be drunk and you don’t know what else would warrant a late night drop in. 

“Hey,” he says and just because you have the best luck, Jax decides that now is the right time to follow you to the door. 

“Your phone is ringing, and it’s your mom,” he says, freezing when he sees Mat standing there. He looks uncomfortable, and when you turn to Mat, all you see is fury. 

See, the problem is, despite nothing romantic going on between you and Jax, relationship talk wasn’t something that you and Mat had brought up. He didn’t bring up his girlfriend, and so far, nobody besides your mom has been around when Mat was with you and Nora. Also, throw in the fact that you’re sure Mat has no idea who Jax is, it’s easy to make assumptions. 

“Nevermind,” Mat says shortly, “I’ll leave you to your night.”

You grab his wrist before he can leave, wanting to clear all this up even though it shouldn’t really matter if you were dating someone. 

“Wait,” you say and he stops but keeps his back to you. 

“Nora woke up and wants to talk to you,” Jax says, breaking the silence and you hesitate, not wanting Mat to leave but knowing you need to talk to your daughter. He seems to sense your dilemma, because he hands you your phone, slips his shoes on and squeezes past you and Mat, calling out "I'll call an uber”, before walking down the hallway of your apartment building. 

You feel like an awful friend, and you’ll definitely be making it up to him but you pull Mat inside, shutting the door before holding the phone up to your ear. 

“Nora?”

“No,” your mom says softly, “I’ll put her on now.” 

You thank her quietly, waiting until you hear your daughter's voice. She’s sniffling, and tells you about the bad dream she had, asking if you can come pick her up. Your mom is trying to comfort her on the other line but it’s no use because she’s set on coming home.

You glance at your wine glass sitting on the counter and curse yourself because this is exactly why you try not to drink. 

Mat, as if he is reading your thoughts, says “I’ll go pick her up and bring her here.”

He still looks irritated but his expression softened since he heard Nora. You wouldn’t take him up on his offer but you know how much your mom hates driving in the dark so you just nod, watching him shake his hand out of yours and your face heats up when you realize you hadn’t let go. 

“Be back in twenty,” he says before leaving. 

“Mat’s on his way to get you, sweetie,” you tell Nora. “He’ll pick you up and bring you straight home, okay?”

She sniffles again and says a quiet, “okay,” before presumably handing the phone back to your mom who you tell that Mat is going to pick her up. She doesn't say anything, but you know she wants to. You realize she probably thinks that he was here with you and your instinct is to correct her but you don’t bother. You thank her and apologize, before bidding goodbye with a promise to let her know when Nora and Mat make it back home. 

You clean up while you’re waiting, dump your glass of wine down the sink and start making the couch up so Mat can just sleep here instead of going all the way back to his house after making the trip to pick Nora up. 

It’s not long before you hear the door open and close quietly and you look to see Mat carrying a sleeping Nora inside. 

“She fell asleep on the drive here,” he explains. “Didn’t want to wake her.”

You nod, pointing him in the direction of her room before sitting on the couch waiting until he comes back. You want to have whatever conversation the two of you need to have even though you know it won’t be a good one.

He’s quiet when he walks into the living room and hesitates before sitting on the couch next to you. You both sit in silence for a minute until you sigh, dropping your head into your hands. 

“Jax is a friend,” you mumble. “But even if he wasn’t, you have no place being mad about it.”

“I wasn’t mad,” he argues, “I was caught off guard. I didn’t know you were dating because you hadn’t brought it up.”

“I’m not dating,” you repeat and he sighs.

“I know.” 

Another minute of silence before you raise your head and look at him. 

“What about you? What happened to your girlfriend?” you ask, even though you know she left. 

He shrugs, “she left. Said she wanted no part in raising a child. Not that she would have had any place in Nora’s life if I had a say.”

“Of course you have a say,” you say. 

He looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You forget sometimes how good looking he is and it’s probably the alcohol that makes your brain fuzzy but all of a sudden, you just miss him. It’s not just physical attraction either, you can’t help but remember how considerate, loving and caring he was when you dated. You were both young, but it always felt like the two of you would be together forever even though you always knew in the back of your mind that he would have to leave one day and you wouldn’t be able to follow him. 

Despite doing your best to forget about him, to get over him the past eight years, the love you felt for him never went away. 

“Do you ever think about us? About what could’ve been?” you ask quietly.

“Always,” he says gently with a softness in his eyes that you’ve only seen directed towards Nora since he came back into your life.  

“Me too,” you whisper. 

He hesitates before lifting a hand and brushing a piece of loose hair that’s fallen in front of your face, tucking it behind your ear. His hand lingers for a moment, fingertips just barely brushing against your cheek. Your eyes close and you let yourself have this one moment, one minute where you can imagine that you’re seventeen again, laying on your bed with Mat’s arms holding you, whispering empty promises about forever to each other. Just kids in love, thinking forever was possible.

But you’ll never be those kids again.

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[writerastray]

So... can we still be together? { affection part 3 }

General Masterlist - Read this before interacting

Disclaimer:

⚠︎ My works are all protected. I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share my work.

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-> Word count: 5k

-> Relationships: Lee Minho/afab!Reader

-> Rating: 18+ → Mature/Explicit

->Genre/Tropes: Romance, Angst (a little bit?), Fluffy (do people use these tags?), Smut. Other Additional Tags to Be Added. (Spoiler tags: Something more than friends to Lovers?)

-> Warning tags: Explicit Sexual Content. Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

Final part of Affection.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You woke up with the taste of Minho lingering on your tongue. 

After you returned last night, Hyunjin and Felix were nowhere to be found, but you couldn't care less, not when you knew Minho was still behind you, painfully hard. 

You remember how surprised he was when you pulled him to your room, how he smiled when you asked if he'd let you suck him. 

The way he kissed you and begged in a whisper for your lips around him. His sounds, divine as your tongue swirled on his cock; his cum in your mouth; his languid kiss as he, at last, said goodnight. 

Turning in your bed, the faint light danced through the curtains, a gentle breeze whispered through the open window. The room was silent, save for the distant chirping of birds outside.

You wished Minho were behind you, as in the many mornings you spent together, his nose nuzzling your neck as he slept softly, his warmth comforting you.

There's no denying it now—you have feelings for Minho, regardless of what you may still feel for Felix. Your heart still raced at the thought of Minho, still yearned to hear his voice, still wanted to share your thoughts with him. You love when he understands you, when he sees all your secrets. His touch weakened your knees; and you cherished every moment spent with him—the laughing, the teasing, the flirting.  

In some moments, it feels like you've fallen out of lust, and into love with him.

But will you confess? Fear holds you back, and you don't know how to take the first step. 

Once you're ready and have left the room, only Hyunjin is awake. 

He smiles warmly and extends a cup of tea, its steam rising gently in the cool morning air, and you gladly accept it. 

"What's the plan?" you ask. 

The delicate aroma of freshly brewed tea fills the air, as you take a sip. Chamomile. 

Hyunjin snorts. "Felix asked me the same thing this morning."

"And then he just made his own plans, right?" You smiled.

He nods and makes a cup of tea with honey in it. You know it's for Felix. 

"We're going to town to get some things. Felix wants to see Changbin too.”

Footsteps approached, and Felix, with a drowsy face, joined you.

He takes the cup that Hyunjin places in front of him, chastely kisses him, and sits by your side. 

"Is Minho still sleeping?" he asks, looking at you, and your heart beats faster, thinking about last night.

"Not anymore," Minho's voice sounds from the corridor. 

Your eyes meet. He just got out of the shower, tiny droplets of water clinging to his tousled hair, trailing down his temple, neck, and collarbones—each spot once caressed by your lips. His tank top revealed his strong arms, making you want to crawl into his embrace. Minho is always warm when waking up. 

His gaze goes to your lips. You don't miss the corner of his lips slightly turning up, or the skip of your heart.

After breakfast, you all walk to town through cobblestone streets. A gentle breeze brushes against your skin, carrying a hint of chill in the air. You walked beside Felix. Minho was ahead, chatting with Hyunjin. 

Now that you've admitted to yourself that you have feelings for Minho, you can't stop your gaze from searching for him. 

Your body naturally longs to touch him, and you find yourself paying more attention to his every expression—all of them beautiful—or the way he walks, or how his voice sounds from afar, though you already know how it sounds in rushed tones in the middle of the night.

Along the way, butterflies flit among blossoming flowers, and Felix's voice echoes as he points out where their friends live and where they used to play as a child.

You learn about Felix's summer house being sold when he went to college and see Minho's house, which had a high wall with plants full of hanging flowers and is only occupied by his family in winter nowadays. 

Then Minho stops in front of another house, his expression guarded, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Do you think Jisung is home?" Felix asks, his voice filled with hesitation.

Your body froze at Felix's words. It was wrong to feel so afraid of Minho meeting Jisung, but you couldn’t help it. It made you anxious. You didn't want Minho to get hurt again, and the selfish part of you fears losing him. 

"Want to say hi?" Hyunjin suggests.

"Y/n and I will go ahead," Minho says, his voice gentle yet firm. They simply nodded in response. 

As you stroll down the street, relief settles in your chest. Minho is still yours for a bit more time.

Once you enter the town, you catch the scent of freshly baked pastries drifting from a bakery. A flower shop catches your eye, displaying an array of colorful blooms, while across the way, a closed painting studio stands. Nestled among the cozy houses, you spot a pizzeria. Locals mingle at the cafes or the bustling market.

Minho guides you to a charming store, right in front of the market, and you know immediately where you are.

"That's my mom’s store," he said.

A light yellow wood sign hangs on the door, bearing the store's name in elegant script. Peering through the large, ornate windows, you catch a glimpse of the interior. The display cases now sit empty, their glass surfaces reflecting the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight.

This is where Minho spent his childhood. It's where he grew up.

You can imagine him, running through the tables, greeting every client, helping his mother.

You didn't have that as a child; you spent your time in your room, watching something or studying. Your parents worked all day, so you were by yourself most of the time. Maybe that's why you suck at being honest with others.

Once inside, the scent of sweets lingers, even though it has been a while since it was last opened.

You look at him, and his gaze is lost inside, roaming every detail. You notice him relaxing, his breathing slowing, and his eyes softening with affection. Silence surrounds you, as if time stopped once you came inside, like a magical store where you could feel safe no matter your problems outside.

"I used to spend most of my days here helping her." His voice was tinged with fondness.

"Have you ever thought of reopening?" 

"Once, a long time ago," he answers, pulling you close. "Hyunjin loves her strawberry cake. Sometimes he calls her to get some of it."

"What was your favorite?" you ask, wanting to know more about his past.

He gives you a bittersweet smile. “A cheesecake. Me and Jisung made it once.”

He avoids meeting your eyes. You step closer, your hands traveling from his shoulders to his chest, and down his waist. You notice his breathing quickens, and he slightly shivers. 

Minho bites his lips, so pretty and full that you want to do it as well—feel them between your lips, lick them, taste them.

“You must think I'm an ass to keep talking about him when I'm with you.”

You gently place your hand on his cheek, urging him to meet your eyes. They betray a hidden desperation, as if he wanted to say more than he was ready to. 

“He was your best friend. I want to know. He’s important to you. I want you to share these memories with me.” Even if it hurts me.

Silence follows, his hold tightening. His hands cup your cheeks, and he kisses you so tenderly that it steals your breath away.

“Since when did you stop being a scared kitten?”

You punch him in the arm, and he laughs.

You can’t help but think, what if your paths had crossed at a young age? Would you have fallen for Minho instead of Felix? Would you have been his first love? 

Your hands move to his neck, wanting to comfort him, to make him stay with you in the present. So you kiss him, delicately and slowly.

"So, what should we do?" he asks, sliding his lips along your neck. You wanted him, but not just like this. Something nags at your heart. You need more. You distance yourself enough to see him. His eyebrows arch, and you have an idea.

"We should try making those blueberry muffins before we spend all our money at the café."

"You wanna bake?" he asks, surprise evident in his tone, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Why not? The market is on the other side of the street."

His eyes widen, and a smile spreads across his face. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself.

"Get the ingredients; I'll see what works here," he said.

“Yes, chef,” you said, passing by his side, and he playfully slapped your butt. You laugh, feeling hopeful that you could at least build new memories here with him. Maybe he can forget a little about his past. Was that too selfish of you to wish?

“You're a disaster,” Minho said, his voice in your ear as his hands held yours in an attempt to teach you how to mix the flour with the rest of the stuff.

“In all honesty, you should have known the outcome.”

“The idea was yours.”

“And the fool was you for thinking I could ever be good in the kitchen,” you bantered.

He chuckled against your neck, a little melody that echoed through the room as he leaned in to press a kiss on your head before returning to the task.

Minho looks incredibly attractive while cooking, from his furrowed brow of concentration to the way his hands work the batter—hands you wish were touching you now. As you gaze, he catches you staring.

"Are you going to help, or just keep looking at me?" he teases.

Your eyes lock, meeting his annoyed expression.

You roll your eyes, and reach for the pan to grease it with butter. Then Minho pours the batter into the muffin pan, and places it in the oven.

Then he turns and pulls you close, his lips brushing against yours. Your heart races as your eyes close, savoring the moment.

"So what now?" you ask, feeling his arms around your waist. You could never belong anywhere else, you think. 

"Now we clean." He distances himself and grabs a sponge and detergent.

You sighed. "We should’ve just make out instead of baking."

He laughed, and you joined him in drying the dishes.

You work in comfortable silence, and when everything is done, you rest on the counter.

He smiles, a caring one, and wraps his arms around you. You rest your head on his chest, surprised by the rapid beating of his heart. Just like yours.

“Can I kiss you, Y/n?" He asks softly.

You turn to him, and it's like you knew that the kiss, now, would not be the same as before. And you think he knows it too.

“Yes.”

Anticipation builds in your chest.

He holds your head in his hand, and his fingers gently stroke your cheeks before meeting your lips, softly, slowly.

It feels like rediscovering him all over again—the shape of his lips, the rhythm of his kiss, the warmth of his touch, his scent, the taste of his tongue on yours. Arms around his neck, one hand in his hair, drawing him closer. The kiss was devoid of rush, like a cloudy blue summer sky slowly passing by.

In the end, you almost burn the muffins, lost in each other. 

As Minho places the muffins in a container to take to Hyunjin's house, you feel the need to confess growing stronger. Like if you didn't tell now how you fell completely in love with him, your chance would escape. 

Soon. When the time is right, you promised yourself.

His eyes meet yours, and your heart skips a beat when you notice his lips, red from kissing you.

Felix called. He and Hyunjin were in the meadow, waiting near Changbin's house. 

You and Minho made your way back on the cobblestone path in silence, hands intertwined.

Minho hums a song, and you feel at peace, if only for a moment. For a minute, it was perfect; it was lovely.

"Minho?" a sweet voice interrupted. 

When you turned, your heart sank. 

Han Jisung stood before you. He looked just like the last photo you had seen of him, with doe eyes, small plump lips, and silky hair that begged for your fingers to run through it.

Minho stopped and froze, his hands still on yours. He didn't utter a word. 

Your heart beats so inexplicably fast that it might explode, and a knot forms in your stomach. You feel a sense of urgency, as if time is slipping away.

You’re scared. It's time. You had him for as long as you could. Now he would be gone. You should have confessed. 

You'll lose him because, once again, you were a coward.

"It's been a long time..." Han continued shyly, his gaze lingering on your intertwined hands. 

Sensing the tension, you gently let go. 

You try to muster a smile, but every inch of distance you put between yourself and Minho felt like a step toward a precipice.

"I'll go ahead," you finally managed to say. It was the first time Minho looked away from Han. He opened his mouth and closed it. 

You force back the tears that were begging to fall, and mouth, "It's okay. Good luck," before continuing on your path alone, wishing you had the courage to turn back, to stay by his side, to not let him go. 

It was when you realized how deeply you had fallen for Minho. Is it wrong to hope that Minho would choose you? You wanted Minho with you—to make him happy, to be the reason for his smile, to ease his burdens—just as he had done for you once.

You wanted to whisper “I love you” when the sun rose. And yet, you took one more step away from him.

You find Felix sitting on a swing, a bit further from Changbin's house. He's alone, and when your eyes meet, he smiles.

It was as if he knew everything that was happening inside your heart. 

You run to him, and soon you're enveloped in his arms, breathing in his scent, feeling warmth spreading through you. 

“Want to talk?” 

“Yeah.” 

And so you do. You tell him almost everything, from the day you spent with Minho on that winter night, skipping the part where your heart was broken by Felix, to how fearful you were of losing him to Han. 

Felix listened to all of it in silence, until he said, "So, you’re in love with him."

Not a question, a fact. His words make your heart race. It feels strange to admit this to someone you once had feelings for, but you're tired of lying to yourself. 

"I am," you admit. 

Felix gazes into your eyes. He looks at you with an expression you’ve never seen on his face before. You wonder what he was thinking. 

But before you could ask, he places his hands on your face, his fingers gently sweeping your cheek. 

"Then go after him. Don't give up." 

His words hang in the air, and you can't shake the feeling that there's more he wants to say.

You avert your eyes, noticing a distant house with a beautiful garden. When Felix doesn't say anything, the words finally escape you: "I'm afraid."

He furrows his brows slightly, and his hands hold yours. After a moment of hesitation, he asks, “Will you be able to live seeing him happy with someone else?”

You meet his gaze, knowing you could do it, knowing also how it was horribly painful to do so. 

You stay silent for a second, and then you decide. 

"No. I don't want to." 

"Then go,” Felix said with a gentle smile. Your heart tightens, not from hurt, but gratefulness to love him in every way, and for being his friend. 

You hug him, feeling his warmth one last time, before taking the first step back to the cobblestone path. Heart resolved.

You're determined not to make the same mistake again. You won't give up on Minho. “Thanks, Lix!” 

You do not look back as you run to Minho.

You run until you see him, crouched, patting a kitten. It reminds you of that winter. 

He looked soft, calm even, as if he hadn't just confronted a thunderstorm of feelings. 

What does that mean?  Your heart was pounding. Would that be a goodbye now? Was he prepared to leave you as well? Do the words you wanted to say matter? 

You didn't have an answer, but you took one more step in his direction.

His eyes widen as they meet yours, and you come to a stop. He walks the rest of the way to you. 

The sun is setting, and the sky is a soft purple, with a breeze of spring enveloping you, soothing your nerves while the scent of wildflowers surrounds you. 

You wait for him to speak, but he simply looks at you. Your heart ignited in anticipation. 

"How was it?" you finally ask. 

Minho's shoulders relax as he answers, his gaze softening toward you. "Everything it should have been," he says, his voice carrying a hint of contentment. 

You stay quiet, waiting for more. 

Are they back together or not? Hope flickers in your heart. 

His eyes search your face, as if waiting for a question. And you give in, finding a small drop of courage inside you.

"So..." you begin, almost too quietly, "can we still be together?" 

He tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. His fingers trail up your chin, and he says, "If you still want me. I’d love to." 

A smile lights up your face as your lips meet his, losing yourself in his taste, his embrace, the beating of his heart against yours, the soft strands of his hair, his sweet taste. You let every emotion show in your kiss, hoping he would see how much you love him. 

When he breaks the kiss, you notice his ears are all red, and you smile to yourself.

The next day, all of you woke up early. Minho was organizing the bags in the car, Hyunjin was checking the house, and you and Felix finished cleaning the kitchen.

“So, did you confess?" Felix asked quietly.

Your heart quickened at the memory of Minho's words. "Not yet." 

He looked at you, excitement in his eyes. “When?”

"I... I’ll say it once we're back."

He nodded while he took out the trash, and before he went to throw it outside, he said, “I'll go back with Hyunjin. Just so you know,” he winked at you and walked outside.

You snorted and grabbed the last of your bags before following Felix. It's still a little strange how your best friend, who you once had feelings for, is now playing wingman for you, but oddly comforting at the same time.

The night before, Minho didn't share anything more about his conversation with Jisung, and neither did you discuss your moment with Felix. There would be time for those conversations later, when the weight of the words didn't feel so heavy. You gave him space to sort out his thoughts; and you  needed it as well.

"Ready?" Minho's voice interrupted your thoughts. He leaned against the car, his hair tousled by the strong wind. Meeting his gaze, you felt a flutter in your chest, a warmth spreading through you.

"Yes."

He smiled, and you noticed how his eyes glanced at your lips for a second before turning and going inside his car.

Hyunjin and Felix waved goodbye as you followed Minho and sat in the passenger seat.

You couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in your stomach.

You had fallen for Minho, and though Felix still made your heartbeat a little faster, it wasn't like before. Slowly, he was being erased, and with time, you were more and more at peace with that.

Yet, there's still one problem. Minho's words made it clear he had feelings for you, but you couldn't be sure if it was to the same extent as your feelings or if he would want something serious with you now.

One thing is certain—Minho is worth the heartbreak, and you need to be honest and confess your feelings to him.

As soon as you step inside his apartment, Minho pulls you into a deep, languid kiss, making you melt in his arms. Then the pace slows down, and the kisses transform into something sweet, almost chaste, with you grazing your lips over his, feeling each other's warmth.

He smirks into the kiss before barely distancing himself. 

“So…” he says, a smile growing on his lips.

You are completely mesmerized by him.

“So…” you narrow your eyes, trying to scold him for kissing you suddenly.

Then his expression softens, his fingers tracing circles on your neck while the other hand is interlaced with yours.

"Before we say anything, did you talk to Felix?” 

You panic slightly.

"Yeah?" you answer.

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Kind of," you admit sheepishly.

Minho narrows his eyes. "Kind of?”

"He knows how I feel about you," you explain, hoping he understands.

A small smirk appears on Minho's lips, and he tilts his head. "And how do you feel about me?”

“You know,” you say, eyes falling to his chest.

“Do I?” His finger pulls your chin up until your eyes meet his. “You never said it.”

“Neither did you.”

Minho’s lips brush yours. Once. Twice. Soft as butterfly kisses as he teases your lips, until you're arching, your body searching for his. 

He chuckles. “Should I make up for that?” He says, his voice low and hungry. “I can show you how much I want to be yours.”

Your heart bursts and a yearning flutters in your gut. “Then please show me.”

His lips are hot, his mouth sweet. A heavy press of his lips and the silky stroke of his tongue are all he needs to drive you insane. You whimper and dig your fingernails into his back. His breath catches, kissing you even harder, his hands clutching your waist

It's a game of action-reaction, each of you drawing the other over the edges with a single touch. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue is perfect against yours, his hands reach down and grip one of your thighs, bringing it up to his hip.

“Bed. Now,” you say, craving for more.

He kisses you one more time before guiding you to his room. Both of you undress desperately to feel each other again. 

You didn't have time to remove your bra when Minho pulled you against the door, kissing you hard, his hands on your waist, and you could feel yourself getting wet. He helps you take it off, and when it's done, he distances himself to look at you.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says, and you could say the same of him. But you just get close enough to kiss him again, eager to feel him. 

You tumble into bed, his hand cupping your breast, playing with your nipple, and the other on your neck as he tops you. You stop him and push him to be under you. His  scent enveloping you, lips red from kissing yours, eyes gleaming with desire. You tried to memorize every detail. Then you gave in and leaned to nip at his neck.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

His breathing quickens and becomes erratic as you kiss down his throat, sucking his skin, licking over his pulse point. Minho shifts, and you gasp, pressing against him as you feel his cock through his thin boxer. 

Trailing wet kisses down his chest, you lick over his abs and bite gently on his waistband. He responds with a thrust and a sinful moan. You pull his pants off, and he helps you until you stop to see his cock, hard and throbbing for you. 

Your thumb brushes along the tip in a gentle, teasing motion, pre-cum on your fingers, and his breath hitches, winning a smirk on your lips.

You tighten your grip on Minho's cock, moving your hand in the rhythm you know pleases him. 

You notice Minho's half-closed eyes and parted lips. You love seeing him like that, weak to every touch of yours. Suddenly Minho shudders, his groan so deep that you feel it reverberate through his body. That's when he holds your hand.

“No,” he says, whimpering with the lack of your touch. His gaze fucked out. “Wanna come inside you.”

Something in your lower belly coils. You lean in to kiss him, swiping your tongue against his as you align your entrance with his cock. He holds your waist.

“Let me eat you out first,” he says, his hands roaming around your nipple, ass, then moving close to your core.

You hold his hands and interlace them with yours.

“I need your cock now, Minho.”

He whimpers. “Fuck, is that what you want?” He grabs your hips, tightening his grip. “Needy for my cock, hm?”

A little smirk plays on his lips, but his eyes are filled with desire.

“Fuck me, please.”

As he turns you and presses you against the mattress, you moan.

He swallows the sound, his rough kiss full of urgency and heat. He sucks on your tongue and grips the nape of your neck.

Pleasure inundates your mind with each sweep of his tongue against yours.

He presses his hard length against your core and your hips buck slightly. Minho aligns the tip of his cock with your entrance, and you gasp as he thrusts into you.

Minho groans, closing his eyes, as your pussy clenches around him.

Then he stares at you; his gaze passionate, full of longing and desire, searing your heart. 

“I’m yours, Y/n,” he whispers against your lips.

You see his eyes widen as if the phrase just slipped out of his mouth without him realizing. You kiss him harder, heart bursting out of your chest

“Again,” you said, almost begging.

“I’m yours,” he says, “only yours.”

With a smooth thrust, he pushes all the way inside you. You whimper, fingers intertwining with the soft strands of his hair.

He kisses you slowly as he rocks in and out of you, his thrusts steady and hard, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room.

You bury your fingers in his hair as you move your hips with him, meeting him eagerly and taking him so deeply that it almost hurts.

He leans back, his eyes on you as he cups your breast with his free hand, squeezing it then pinching your nipple. “So goddamn pretty.”

A familiar wave of pleasure builds inside you with each hard thrust of his.

You know you are about to come.

Keeping your eyes on him, your hand touches your clit.

Minho moans your name as you circle your fingers, your pleasure growing with each movement and your pussy clenching even more.

“Baby, fuck, just like that,” he says, whimpering, as he thrusts faster, your hand accompanying his rhythm.

Butterflies flutter in your chest as your lower belly coils and your pussy clenches. You come hard, and euphoria jolts inside you. Minho looks down at you as you moan his name.

Minho's muscles tense, and he lets out a shudder. His cock hardens even more, and he pushes deep, moaning as he releases inside you.

He kisses you again, clinging to you as he reaches his orgasm. Minho bites your bottom lip, then nestles his head in the crook of your neck.

You stroke his hair and softly kiss his ear, his jaw, his throat.

“My turn now?” he says against your skin, and before you can respond, he moves down and captures one of your nipples in his mouth.

When you feel his teeth graze your skin, a new wave of pleasure washes over your body.

He lightly bites your nipple before tracing his lips over it and moves to the other one. Kissing, licking, sucking before leaving a cruel bite that makes you arch for more.

Then he kisses his way down to the underside of your breast, biting gently. His hands spread your legs widely. His lips brush their way to your core, sending shivers through your body.

Your hands go to his hair as his lips touch yours. You moan with the sensation of him between your legs, and you hear—feel—him chuckle at your reaction.

Then, he kisses you, slowly and languidly. His tongue traces every inch of your pussy, and your hips jolt. With a firm grip, he spreads your thighs even farther apart.

He returns to your clit, flicking and licking it again and again until your thighs quiver with anticipation.

He makes out to your pussy, and you feel like you might break.

You bite your wrist to muffle the moans at the back of your throat. Minho’s fingers wrap around them, pressing against your side.

“I want to hear you,” he says, his lips brushing against you.

You couldn’t stifle your loud moan as the sound echoed throughout the room. 

Too quickly, that familiar tension coiled in your lower stomach, a tightness craving release. Minho didn't stop for a second, devouring you as if his life depended on it, until your toes curled, your fingers clutching the mattress, and his name escaped your lips. 

Minho kissed your pussy one last time before your hands searched for his chin, and your eyes met. He looked intoxicated by you. 

He came to you, and you kissed him, tasting yourself on his mouth. 

The words you wanted to say were on the tip of your tongue once more, but your eyelids felt heavier than your thoughts, and as Minho got up to prepare a bath, you fell asleep.

Morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a soft glow upon the tangled sheets.

You lay beside Minho, his steady breathing comforting against your ear.

With each rise and fall of his chest, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. This is the moment you could live forever in it.

As he stirred from sleep, Minho's eyes met yours, his gaze tender yet filled with unspoken words. 

Without a word, you knew, finally, what needed to be said. 

"Minho.” 

“Y/n.” His voice, lower from the morning, sent shivers down your spine. 

Gathering your courage, you whispered, “I’m in love with you.” 

He stopped, and his beautiful coffee eyes widened; then he smiled and drew you to a kiss. 

His lips brushed against yours as he said, “I’m in love with you, too.”

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Author's note: Hi! I hope you liked this story. English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love 💕

Copyright © 2023 by Writerastray.

[anistarrose]

You added an "image description" to my post - now what? (FAQ)

[Plain text: "You added an 'image description' to my post - now what? (FAQ)". End PT.]

While I'm literally always willing to answer (good faith) questions about image descriptions, alt text, and online accessibility writ large, I also know lots of people have social anxiety about sending DMs, doing IDs "wrong," or just not knowing what IDs are for in the first place. Hence, this FAQ.

If I added an ID to your post and/or asked you to do so, and you're confused about any aspect of that, this is where to start. You can absolutely still reach out to me, I just thought I should consolidate as many answers as possible.

"What is an ID and why does it matter?"

IDs, or "image descriptions," are a description of the content of an image, and can range from a transcript of a screenshot of text, to a description of a detailed piece of art. They should be in plain text, and placed on the line immediately following the image (unless it's alt text, more on those pros and cons later).

Before we can answer "why it matters," there are two brief but crucial pieces of prior knowledge we need to establish for this whole post.

Blind people use computers, and navigate the Internet, with technology like screen readers and Braille displays.

Blindness is a spectrum. Partial vision is common. Some blind and low vision people can't make out all the details of images, but can read enlarged text.

Now, we're ready to answer:

IDs are primarily for blind and low vision people, who need text alternatives to images as they use screen readers and/or enlarged text to navigate the internet.

IDs help others too, including lots of neurodivergent people. Check out this post (link) and the notes for more examples (dyslexics, migraine sufferers, people who can't interpret expressions, people with slow internet...)

IDs are important because without them, the Internet really sucks for people who need them. You probably don't realize how many undescribed images circulate on Tumblr every day, with no way for a lot of disabled people to engage with those posts.

A blind person talks in more detail about all of this here (link).

"I reblogged your ID, is that enough?"

It's not that I don't appreciate it, but editing it into the root post and then reblogging that is much more impactful, for a variety of reasons. It means people who need IDs don't have to dig through the notes for them, it means that Tumblr can't glitch by failing to load the notes and make the ID functionally disappear, and it means all people who find the post in the tags or on your blog will be sharing the accessible version.

To explain visually, the best thing to do is something like this:

[ID: two mock-up Tumblr posts to illustrate adding an ID from the notes to the root post. A blog named "your-blog" posts an image of text reading "something cool you posted" with the caption "check out this cool image I made!" In the notes, the blog "image-describer" reblogs with an ID, which is highlighted. This version of the post is labeled: "original post, reblogged via ID writer."

The second version of the post is from "your-blog" again, where they've added the ID directly under the image, with the same caption below the ID. This version is labeled "updated root post, with ID copy-pasted. End ID.]

"My commentary first, or ID first?"

Include the ID right under the image, followed by your commentary. Unless you're putting your commentary before the image itself, a sighted person will see "image, commentary" in that order, so to ensure the post flows the same way for screen reader users, use the order "image, ID, commentary."

Commentary frequently assumes that the reader has seen the image, after all! A person might not even realize the image is described if the ID is buried too deep, because they might lose patience and skip the post. Or, to explain visually:

[ID: two mock-up example posts with an ID, one formatted well and one poorly. They both start with an image, which is just the text "screenshot of a tweet or something." The first post includes the ID immediately under the image. Below, it continues: "commentary blah blah blah get a load of this guy can you believe it." The post is labeled "Like this!" in green with a check mark.

The second post includes the commentary first, then the ID after the commentary. It's labeled: "Reads awkwardly, deprives screen reader users of immediate context" in red with an X. End ID.]

"I want to make a change to the ID, is that okay?"

Yep! If you want me to change it on my blog too (whether it's characters' pronouns, some typo, etc), just message me.

"What if someone else adds an ID to my post? Would they also be okay with me editing it into the original post like you are?"

Almost certainly! I can't speak for everyone, but I've literally never met an ID writer who wouldn't be okay with it — because we all have the shared goal of maximizing accessibility. If you're unsure or nervous, you can always include credit, but most people are even fine with going uncredited.

"I put your ID in the alt text, is that enough?"

I will never tell you not to use alt text when the alternative is an undescribed post, but I really strongly suggest putting it in both the alt text and the post. Some people who use screen readers prefer the flow of alt text, for good reason — but it's also poorly implemented on Tumblr, and it can glitch and disappear on reblogs, in drafts, or just apropos of nothing.

Moreover, when a low-vision person or anyone else wants to read the alt text directly, Tumblr's display options aren't great. (Unless you use XKit Rewritten's AccessKit, which I will always plug, but that's not an option for mobile users.) Long alt text often extends off the page and gets cut off. Tumblr used to use a terrible eye-straining purple background for it, and could always do that again with no warning. It's just not ideal.

Here's a visually impaired person talking more about the pros and cons (link).

We're in need of a compromise, so what can you do? One option is to include the same alt text as image description (placing the ID directly under the image as always, because remember, flow for screen readers is important). I like to lead with "ID from alt," in order to clarify to screen reader users that they can skip the ID, and help differentiate it from the other option I'm about to describe. This should be self-explanatory, but here's an example of a post I did in this style (link).

Option two is to include a short description in the alt text, and a more detailed explanation in-post. This can let screen reader users instantly know that the post is described, and decide whether they're interested enough in it to stick with it, but it maintains an in-post description for others to benefit from too.

Example of me doing this in a post about IDs (link)

Example of my mutual describing art like this (link)

Also, it's the style I follow throughout this exact post! Take a look!

As usual, the ID is directly below the image in all these cases. This means screen readers move immediately from the alt text to the full description, and the post flows the same way it would for a sighted person.

If you're here because I wrote an ID for you, it might be easier for you to put it in the alt text and the post body identically. That's perfectly fine! But if you're confident writing one short sentence for the alt text and including my ID in the body, you can always go for that too!

"Do I need to keep the brackets or the words 'image description/ID' in the alt text?"

Nope, no need. Brackets are purely for the visual distinction, and most screen readers preface alt text with something like "Image" that fulfills the same purpose as the "ID" label. It's not the end of the world if they're there, but it's redundant, so feel free to remove them.

"Can I put the ID under a read more? Or in small text?"

Please don't. Read mores are glitchy, and oftentimes have to be opened in a new tab. Accessibility that requires jumping through extra hoops isn't accessibility. And worse, if you change your URL or get deactivated, that read more link is usually just gone for good, and the post is undescribed again.

A blind person talks about read mores, and why not to put IDs below them, in more detail here (link).

The exception is if the image itself is below the read more, of course. Then putting the ID below the image, also below the read more by extension, is fine.

You should also write your IDs in text without any fancy formatting (by which I mean, you should write them unformatted, just like the text I'm using in this paragraph). Small text, italics, colored text, and so on are bad for low vision people or others who read the IDs directly such as with increased font size. You should not use them for IDs.

The only type of formatting you might want to consider is an indent. As far as I know, indents are a perfectly accessible form of formatting that shouldn't mess up any screen readers, or impair readability — while still helping IDs stand out from the rest of the post. Indents are optional, but can help non-ID readers know what parts of the post they can skip, which can be helpful for anyone who gets overwhelmed by a lot of text. To demonstrate:

[ID: sample description that stands out from the rest of the post. End ID.]

And one more time, just to drive the point home: IDs always go immediately below the image!

I demonstrate the issues with fonts and small text in this post (link).

"Why do you sometimes copy italics and stuff as plain text? Is that a screen reader thing too?"

Same reason IDs shouldn't be in small text, italics, et cetera — because of sight readers with low vision. Font in weird styles, or in a fixed size regardless of device settings (to my knowledge, this includes headings) isn't very accessible, so I try to provide an accessible transcript.

Colored text is sometimes even inaccessible to sighted people using certain Tumblr themes! (I'm speaking from experience with regards to the lightest shade of blue text on the default white background, actually!) If Tumblr gave individual users the option to disable small text and colors on their dash, then I'd tell you to use them to your heart's content, but as it stands, they're not very accessible.

"Okay, I want to make my blog more accessible, but I don't feel capable of writing IDs on my own. How can I get help?"

Good news, this is my absolute favorite question! I strongly recommend the People's Accessibility Discord (invite link here, please let me know if it breaks).

It was created for this exact purpose of crowdsourcing IDs (and answering questions about them). I talk about it more in this post (link), but I also describe an alternative if you're like me and have massive social anxiety about Discord servers.

TL;DR: ask in the post if someone can add an image description, and edit it in once someone does! If you've read this far in the post, you're clearly an expert on how to do that.

In that post, I also recommend text extractors like OnlineOCR (link), OCR Space, and Google Lens to extract text from images and save you typing if it's just a twitter thread or something. I would always spot check the text, adjust formatting, and remove superfluous characters, but it usually saves you lots of time when you might not normally have the energy to describe something.

Lastly, a lot of description blogs take requests! I don't unless I specify otherwise, because I easily run out of spoons, but @accessible-art is a great example of a blog that does this for non-fandom art, and there are lots of fandom blogs out there that do similar.

"I want to learn how to write image descriptions for my posts! Do you have any resources?"

This is my image description masterpost (link). I get a little scared about linking it because it's long, and a lot of the linked posts are long too, and I don't want to overwhelm people — so please, start with the first few links to get the broad strokes, and then feel free to treat the rest like a index. That is, peruse it if you're looking for answers or advice on a specific topic!

While learning, keep in mind that different ID users want different things out of IDs, and that's okay. Some people, including many blind people, care quite a bit about color, but others don't, and that doesn't mean either is wrong about the types of IDs they prefer versus ones they find unnecessary.

Blind People Still Like to Know About Color, as a blind person explains it (link)

Overall, blind people have a massive range of lived experiences, and all the other people who benefit from IDs broaden that range even more. Generally, no one involved wants huge walls of text, but some people prefer super-minimal IDs, while others prefer a nice handful of (relevant) details. It's stuff like the difference between "Two characters hugging in a cozy-looking house," versus "Two characters hugging with their eyes closed, both smiling. Their house looks cozy and cluttered, with warm lighting."

Neither of those is objectively wrong, and there will be people who prefer either. Nor is it wrong for you, the ID writer, to make a subjective judgement, such as on the "cozy" mood. You don't want to misrepresent things, but subjectivity is usually unavoidable on some level, and therefore fine. Likewise, you don't want to let the ID get so long it's a slog to get through (here's an example of what NOT to do), but if you're describing a complicated image like some art might be, it's okay to add some details. Just start with the important stuff and general idea first.

The purpose of an image also matters. With memes, shorter is almost always better, and excessive detail is annoying (post with examples). You don't need in-depth detail to appreciate most quick jokes. But on the other hand, art is often shared for the purpose of appreciating the details. This post goes into detail about how context matters, and how longer IDs make sense for art sometimes. It puts it better than I could, so I really suggest reading it if this is something you're wondering about! Key word: not length, not brevity, but "relevancy."

In my opinion, IDs are easiest to learn by doing, but also by starting small. If you want to build up your "description muscles" and confidence by just transcribing screenshots of text, that's perfectly fine — and also, the path that myself and a lot of people I know have followed.

Lastly: follow some described blogs! Check out how other people do it! Writing IDs is an art, and though it has a few hard do's and don't's we've gone over, we've also gone over how it's subjective. Everyone brings a slightly different style, with a different level of lengthiness, and it's great to learn from multiple sources. Here's one list of blogs like those (link)!

"Why would this matter if I know I don't have any blind people following me?"

Consider the cycle of inaccessibility (link). If no one ever accommodates blind people, then of course you're not going to see them on Tumblr, in fandom, or in whatever internet circles! There are blind people who might want to use Tumblr, but left because they weren't welcomed and accommodated (link). And blind people aren't the only people who need image descriptions — again, consider this post, especially this addition (link).

Worst case scenario, even if you have no one who can benefit from IDs following you, and no people who need IDs would follow you even if you included them, you're still helping people who do maintain accessible blogs to do so — and moreover, normalizing image descriptions in general.

"I don't think blind people would be in this fandom. I mean, there's a huge visual component!"

Described comics and webcomics exist. Audio descriptions for TV shows and movies exist. Disabled people who find creative ways to play video games exist. People who watched a playthrough of a video game by a person who happened to read out the dialogue, and give descriptive commentary on the action, also exist. People who lose their vision over time, or gain other reasons to rely on IDs over time, also exist.

"Where can I learn more about blindness and related accessibility issues, especially from blind people themselves?"

Wonderful question — check out @askablindperson and @blindbeta for starters! BlindBeta focuses on blind characters in fiction, but discusses accessibility too, and both these users have wonderful and very informative pinned posts! I'll link a few additional posts/tags below, from both these bloggers and others:

BlindBeta on Myths That Harm Blind People

"For a lot of blind and visually impaired people, sight is a conscious effort."

Variation in blind experiences and accessibility needs

Ask A Blind Person's tag on Braille

[russellsppttemplates]

I want it all with you (Mick Schumacher)

A series of the moments that lead Mick and Y/N to decide that it was time they added to their bunch

Note: english is not my first language. I'm a sucker for dad!driver, and I must admit dad!Mick always gets me 🥹

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions dog sickness, starting a family, pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

The first time you felt what your friends called baby fever was when you saw Mick holding the youngest Vettel in his arms. When Hanna and Sebastian felt comfortable enough to have visitors, they sent texts to their friends and family letting them know that, only asking that they would tell them in advance so they didn't have everyone at the same time in the house.

"I already have the casserole packed and ready to go, and the small bag with the gift we got is also in the car", you went over the list on your head, seeing Mick grab the coats and your bag, "alright then, let's go!".

The trip to the Vettel household was fine, not a lot of traffic, allowing you and Mick to talk about what you had been up to that week and general catching up, sharing some gossip from your workplaces.

"I'll help you, one second", Mick called for you, fixing your coat's sleeve so you could walk comfortably to the door. Your boyfriend knocked on it, seeing Sebastian open the door soon after, "Hi, guys! I'm glad you could make it!", he greeted cheerfully.

"I have this one here, I spoke to Hanna on the phone yesterday, she said that this recipe was good for everyone", you smiled, setting the bag on the kitchen counter, "if you want it for tonight's dinner, you can just heat it up. If not, it's good to freeze, too".

"We don't have any dinner plans and the moment Mathilda and Emilie heard 'pasta bake from Y/N' they haven't talked about much else", he smiled, guiding you to the living room.

"I have some visitors, but you have to keep it on the quiet side, okay? Baby just got back to sleep and we'd appreciate that the situation stays that way", Sebastian said as you and Mick walked in with me, the girls coming up to hug you as quietly as they could, "Hi, Y/N! Hey, Mick!", they said, smiling up at you.

"Hi, girls! How are the best big sisters ever?", you asked, kneeling down, "we're good, come look at her!", Mathilda held your hand, pulling you to sit next to Hanna, who was sitting on the sofa, and look at the small basket, taking a peek of the sleeping baby girl, "Oh, look at those cheeks, she's so gorgeous, congratulations!", you beamed, looking at Sebastian and Hanna, "I helped mama pick her outfit today!", Emilie said, "well, she looks so pretty in it, you did such a good job!".

While Sebastian, Hanna and Mick exchanged conversation after Hanna whispered, "this is the only grown up conversation I've had since she was born that wasn't with my husband", she admitted, seeing you happily play with her oldest girls, you sat on the floor, giving the girls some attention. Raising three kids this little was no joke, and while Sebastian and Hanna seemed to be doing just fine, you figured you could catch up later and instead use your time to play with cars in a toy matt and with some of their dolls, even having time for some crafty activities.

"Do you think Mick will like this, too, Y/N??", Mathilda asked, helping Emilie press one of the stickers on the paper, "I bet he will love it, I'm sure it deserves a place on our fridge!", you complimented, "let's to and show him then!", Emilie suggested.

Going down the stairs and back to the living room, you stopped in your tracks when Emily said, "Oh, he's holding her, we'll come back later", finding her way to the kitchen after Hanna said something about snack time.

On the sofa, Hanna sat beside Mick as he held the youngest Vettel in his arms, gently caressing her cheek with his pinkie as he gave her her bottle, the little girl suckling on it in a peaceful yet attentive expression, looking mesmerised at your boyfriend, "you're hungry aren't you? All of that growing and sleeping is tough work!", he cooed, tapping the bottle a few times so the remainder of the milk would go into her mouth before setting the empty bottle on the table.

"Can you burp her? I'm going to see if Sebastian isn't secretly sleeping in the kitchen", she smirked, seeing him nod as he changed her position. Occupying her spot on the sofa, you grabbed a muslin cloth and placed it on Mick's shoulder, "here, in case she spits some out", you whispered, seeing her curious eyes look at you.

"Hi, baby girl, don't you look so cute", you cooed, smoothing her hairs, "she's is, isn't she?", Mick said as he patted her back. "I didn't know you were so skilled with babies", you noted, seeing his gentleness with her, "I don't have many little cousins now that I'm a grown up, but I visit Sebastian a lot and I have known the girls since they were little, so there are some basic things I know", he blushed. His hand looked massive as he rubbed her back soothingly, and that was the first time where you thought that he was going to be the father of your children.

.

For Mick, however, he didn't need to see you with a baby, at least a human one, and rather with his own four paw, furry one.

When you arrived home, Angie wasn't at the door with her usual cheek licking greeting, "Angie, where are you?", you called, figuring she was probably asleep and hadn't heard you properly the first time.

Walking to the living room, you saw her laying on the floor, "Oh, are you not feeling better, Angie?", you wondered sitting down next to her as she moved her head to rest on your thighs, "and you haven't been eating much either, have you?", you petted her fur. For the past few days, Angie had been feeling rough, not eating much, preferring to stay quiet and inside and, overall, not her usual self. Her vet ended up coming to the house the previous afternoon and give her a check-up, taking some fluids so she could do some other tests back at the clinic, "it's probably a bug like we humans also have, and she'll be good as new in a few days, but we'll let you know the results in the morning", she smiled reassuringly. The results came back normal, calming both you and Mick, as well as the fact that, when you left the house, Angie looked like she was getting better. But now, she looked like she was feeling sorry for herself.

"Well, how about we have a big cuddle on the sofa while we wait for papa, hm? I can give you as many belly rubs as you want", you added, helping the dog up on the sofa and essentially into your lap despite her size, "are you comfy? Yes, you are".

When Mick got home, the sight of you two in the sofa melted him. The way you cared about Angie was mesmerising and he appreciated it more than any words could express.

Approaching you, he tapped your arm, fluttery eyes finding his as you blinked before fully seeing him, "Hi, handsome", you yawned, "this little lady was feeling a bit sorry for herself, so we are having a good cuddle. She ate a good bit of dry food from my hand, and she played with me, but we fell asleep a little while ago, it seems", you said, looking at your watch.

"And you stayed like this? Isn't she hurting you? She isn't the lightest dog", Mick furrowed his brows, "it's fine, she needs the cuddles to feel better, and I'm fine like this if she is, which looks like it", you smiled, petting her snout, "I'll get started on dinner then, you two stay there, okay? Call if you need anything", your boyfriend said before he kissed your forehead and walked to the kitchen.

After dinner, Angie was already walking along the house, seemingly feeling better. Still, you worried, doting on her any time she approached you and checking if she remained the same, "her eyes are clear now", you commented, "she's just tired, I think, aren't you, Angie?", Mick rubbed her tummy before she got up and sat next to you, "yes, it's not easy being sick, but you're coming out of it, aren't you?".

It was a silly thought maybe, Mick figured, but you had been the most attentive to Angie, always checking on her, playing with her and cleaning any mishaps, and he couldn't help himself when he thought about what you would be like with a human baby instead of your furry baby. If how you cared for the Australian Shepherd was any indicator, Mick couldn't wait for you to have your own.

.

You didn't know that when you agreed to look after your little cousin for the weekend that it would make you think all of these thoughts.

After dinner, while Mick offered to tidy the rest of the kitchen, you went upstairs to change into pyjamas with Mila, sensing that the sleepy girl would fall asleep as soon as her head hit something soft enough and wanting to be prepared ahead so she could sleep comfortably, "is it good, Mila? Do you want this cardigan for some warmth?", you inquired, showing her a cardigan made out of the same material as her pyjamas, figuring that it must complete the set, "it's fine, I don't need it. I only use that one when it is really really cold", she noted, sitting on the bed and then placing her feet on the floor so you could join Mick downstairs again.

"Mick, Mick, Mick!", Mila yelled as she ran to the living room, "Look!", she pointed to herself once she was in front of him, "my pyjamas have Minnie and Mickey on them!", she said, pointing to you once you reached them, sitting next to your boyfriend, "you can be Mickey, because your name is the same, and Y/N can be Minnie!", she said before she climbed up the sofa, sitting next to Mick.

"Oh, now I feel like I should have a matching pyjama, too!", your boyfriend smiled, "for our next sleepover, then. You promise, Mick?", Mila held out her pinky for them to lace them into a real promise, "I promise, Mila".

The little girl moved around, ending up sitting on both of yours and Mick's thighs, claiming she was taller that way and could see the TV better. "We're going to watch a movie?", she asked, recognising the frames on the TV, "yes. Do you like any of these?", Mick asked her as he flipped through them, "Oh, that one, it looked like my Alfred!", she pointed to the 101 Dalmatians frame. She claimed it was for Angie to get to know her friend Alfred until they could meet in real life, but soon after, the little girl fell asleep holding onto Mick like a little koala, arms around his arm with her head snuggled on your chest, "the day must've tired her out, hm?", Mick said in a low voice, not wanting to wake her up, "I'll going to take her upstairs to the room, I already put up the side barriers so she can move all she wants", he said, effortlessly getting up while holding her.

When he laced her down on the bed, your heart fluttered: your boyfriend carefully combed her curly hair, making sure it wasnt tangled and pushing it away from her face, "Sweet dreams, Mila. Tomorrow we are going to have another day full with surprises".

.

Gina's son had the Schumacher genes and it showed, quite literally. The distinct light coloured eyes, the chubby cheeks and the ever so expressive brows made her little boy a sight to behold, "do you want to go to auntie Y/N for a bit so mama can go and change?", Gina cooed as she transfered him to your lap, "I'll be back quickly", she winked.

You and Mick had taken some time from your holidays to spend with his sister and her family, never missing out on spending time with the youngest family member, and while Mick and Gina's husband prepared some snacks for you, you kept the little boy entertained, watching him walk everywhere around the living room as he pointed out toys. He didn't say many words yet, but you decided to go along with him, pretending almost like you were in a play.

"Are you sure about that? That was not what I heard from my neighbour", you expressed, pretending to be very intrigued by his babbles, "Oh, well, if you look at it like that, maybe there is some truth to it", you said, exaggerating your expression so you could get your nephew to giggle loudly, giggling with him as you carried on.

By the door, Mick was resting there on his side, admiring you and his nephew. You were incredible with kids, wether they were little or already toddlers, you always managed to make them feel safe and happy, and you looked happy, too, when you spent tike in their company. Was it too soon? Your relationship was good, your routines and lifestyles more settled and predictable, and while he loved having you all to himself, Mick couldn't help but think that he will gladly share you with someone who is half you and half him.

Sitting down next to you after cleaning up, his sister and brother in law already upstairs getting ready for bed after putting their little one to sleep, Mick placed his hand on your thigh, "I've been thinking about something, liebling", he began, "and I want your opinion on it, because it matters to me the most, yes?".

Nodding, you urged him to continue, placing your hand on top of his, "I've been thinking a lot about having our own little one", he gulped, not entirely catching you by surprise if you were honest, "we have stability, we have the means, and seeing you with our nephew today just solidified the idea I have that you are going to be an amazing mother to our child, or children if we want them and are lucky enough to be able to have them, I want it all with you", he finished, looking nervously up at you.

"I've been thinking about it, too", you calmed him, "every time I see you with little kids, my ovaries do all these jumps and it took me a bit to figure out that I wanted to be the one to carry your children", you blushed, "okay, that sounded dirtier than I meant it to, but it's true! I want to start a family with you, too", you smiled, kissing his lips.

"Well, I think starting here would be a bit off, but when we get home, maybe? I'd love to start practicing", you said, moving to straddle him, kissing your husband's lips again as he carried you up to the bedroom, Angie following behind, not knowing that her parents were planning to add to the family.

[trulybetty]

happy birthday.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (no description, gif is to set the moooood) Word Count: 1,069 Warnings: 18+ this is soft smut - as is becoming standard, barely read through and posted for your thots Summary: happy birthday Joel Miller, I like to think of this as Sequins x Joel

A/N: on my bullshit again, apparently that whole Frankie situ plus the gif @rhoorl tagged me in has opened the floodgates for more smut. But this is a little softer... because remember, it's canon Joel likes it gentle, steady, nice and slow... 😏

happy birthday.

With his arms caging you in, wet kisses behind your ear, your neck and your jaw as he whispers - Joel moves slowly. The purpose isn't to race to an explosive finish - this is all about long, slow, savouring the moment. His lips explore your skin, kissing, licking and nipping. His teeth barely grazing and you feel a shudder run through you. You love his stubble, the feeling of it grazing you, the way it hurts just a little as it scrapes across your delicate skin. But it doesn't last long as his lips soon return to soothe it. 

The heat of him against you, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, his cock grazing just–the–right–spot. His lips find yours at the same time, and you groan into his mouth as his hips rock back again, a slow drag that leaves you crying out for him to fill you again. But this is slow, this is Joel taking his time, this is a steady climb.

He kisses you, with such passion and with such pure intensity as he continues to rock into you. When you do catch his eyes on you, the appraising look as he gazes down between the valley of your breasts, where your hips connect, his deep brown eyes melting as he takes all of you in.

His hand, the one that's not cradling your head as he leans on his elbow to hold himself up, is a gentle touch. Despite them being calloused, and rough, his touch feel so soft against your skin as he runs it over you. He brushes his fingers down to your hip, across your stomach, across your breasts, all while he places kisses at your collarbone. 

“Darlin', you're the best gift I could have asked for,” his voice is husky, his breath warm against your ear as he gently nips at your ear.

You bite your lip, the delicious curl of tension between your hips is pulling at your focus, the heady feel of the room, the sound of his laboured breathing mixed with yours isn't helping either.

“But it's supposed to be your birthday,” you suck in a breath as he rocks into you again, hitting that soft spot, you try and catch your breath, “and you're doing all the work.”

You can feel his smirk against your skin, you don’t need to see it to know it comes with the added glint in his eyes, the one that you know means he has something planned, “Oh darlin',” he drawls, that smooth Texan flourish to his voice that manages to tug at something in you every time, “we're far from done here.”

And with that, without warning, he flips you over, and you're now atop him. Those strong hands, the ones that always manage to distract you, they hold your hips as he settles into the mattress and you sink onto him, both of you crying out from the pleasure it brings. You both pause for a moment as you take the other in.

He looks up at you, his eyes full of adoration and love. You lean forward and kiss him deeply, your tongue wrapping around his as the intensity of this moment overtakes you both. 

His hands grip your hips firmly as he thrusts up into you, sending shockwaves through your body with each movement. You ride him slowly at first, savouring the feeling of the connection between the two of you.

You arch your back as the pleasure builds inside you with each movement. Joel alternates between wanting to watch your hips as you find a harmonious pace with his. To the length of your exposed neck when you throw your head back and bite your lip to stave off the impending climax.

But a climax is inevitable, especially given how this build-up started over dinner, dinner with his brother and wife, where you'd chosen to wear that outfit. The one he'd sat up with a little more attention when you'd shown him your options, things were soon going to reach their conclusion.

Soon your breathing is fast and ragged as you start to move faster. You can feel him swell inside you, and you know he's close too. His hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers pressing into soft flesh, as he pulls you down onto him with each thrust and you need to steady yourself, your palms splayed open now on his chest.

“Joel,” you breathe out, “I'm close.”

Joel looks up at you, those dark eyes filled with so much want, so much need, “Darlin',” he groans again beneath you, barely able to find the words to tell you he's almost there too.

You're so, so close, he's so close now too. You're both on the edge, both ready to tip over. You can feel it building inside you, the pleasure that always leaves you breathless and speechless…

You can feel it, you're both so close, it's–

“Oh god, Joel–” you cry out as you slip over that all-familiar edge and it's explosive and you almost want to stop, the feeling so overwhelming that you have to squeeze your eyes closed. Stars behind your eyelids, heat uncurling from the base of your spine, spreading across your hips and it's so warm. It has you hearing static between your ears as the rush washes over you and you fight to catch your breath.

“Shit, darlin',” Joel moans, pulling you back from your euphoric haze, and you can feel him seal his own climax with a few more thrusts into you.

The feel of him pulsing inside you is almost enough to push you over that edge again, but you hold on, you hold on and you ride it out.

You collapse onto Joel's chest, you're panting trying to catch your breath, his breathing is ragged as he tucks his head into your neck. It's a moment you love, one you'll never grow tired of. The afterglow, the closeness and connection of it all. His heart beating fast against yours and you can feel his breath against your neck.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you tight against his chest as he presses a gentle kiss to the underside of your jaw. 

“Happy Birthday, Joel,” you say, quiet and soft, a kiss to his temple.

His eyes, already on you since they never left, he smiles, “Thank you darlin'.”